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THE ADVENTURES OF
PEREGRINE PICKLE
In which are included Memoirs of a Lady of Quality
By Tobias Smollett
VOLUME I.
CONTENTS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
An Account of Mr. Gamaliel Pickle—The Disposition of his Sister described—He yields to her Solicitations, and returns to the Country.
An Account of Mr. Gamaliel Pickle—The Attitude of his Sister described—He gives in to her requests and goes back to the Country.
In a certain county of England, bounded on one side by the sea, and at the distance of one hundred miles from the metropolis, lived Gamaliel Pickle, esq.; the father of that hero whose fortunes we propose to record. He was the son of a merchant in London, who, like Rome, from small beginnings had raised himself to the highest honours of the city, and acquired a plentiful fortune, though, to his infinite regret, he died before it amounted to a plum, conjuring his son, as he respected the last injunction of a parent, to imitate his industry, and adhere to his maxims, until he should have made up the deficiency, which was a sum considerably less than fifteen thousand pounds.
In a certain county in England, bordered on one side by the sea and about one hundred miles from the capital, lived Gamaliel Pickle, Esq.; the father of the hero whose adventures we plan to recount. He was the son of a merchant in London who, like Rome, rose from humble beginnings to achieve the highest honors in the city and amassed a considerable fortune. However, to his great regret, he died before his fortune reached a significant amount, urging his son, as a final request from a parent, to follow his hard work and stick to his principles until he could make up the shortfall, which was a sum well under fifteen thousand pounds.
This pathetic remonstrance had the desired effect upon his representative, who spared no pains to fulfil the request of the deceased: but exerted all the capacity with which nature had endowed him, in a series of efforts, which, however, did not succeed; for by the time he had been fifteen years in trade, he found himself five thousand pounds worse than he was when he first took possession of his father's effects; a circumstance that affected him so nearly, as to detach his inclinations from business, and induce him to retire from the world to some place where he might at leisure deplore his misfortunes, and, by frugality, secure himself from want, and the apprehensions of a jail, with which his imagination was incessantly haunted. He was often heard to express his fears of coming upon the parish; and to bless God, that, on account of his having been so long a housekeeper, he was entitled to that provision. In short, his talents were not naturally active, and there was a sort of inconsistency in his character; for, with all the desire of amassing which any citizen could possibly entertain, he was encumbered by a certain indolence and sluggishness that prevailed over every interested consideration, and even hindered him from profiting by that singleness of apprehension, and moderation of appetites, which have so frequently conduced to the acquisition of immense fortunes; qualities which he possessed in a very remarkable degree. Nature, in all probability, had mixed little or nothing inflammable in his composition; or, whatever seeds of excess she might have sown within him, were effectually stifled and destroyed by the austerity of his education.
This sad complaint had the desired effect on his representative, who did everything possible to fulfill the deceased's request. He put in all the effort he could muster, but despite his attempts, he failed. After fifteen years in business, he found himself five thousand pounds worse off than when he first took over his father's assets. This situation affected him deeply, leading him to lose interest in business and withdraw from society to a place where he could quietly lament his misfortunes and live frugally to avoid poverty and the constant fear of jail that haunted him. He often voiced his worries about needing to rely on the parish and thanked God that, since he had been a housekeeper for so long, he was entitled to that support. In short, he wasn't naturally driven, and there was an inconsistency in his character; for, despite having all the desire to accumulate wealth that any citizen could have, he was weighed down by a certain laziness and lethargy that overshadowed any self-interest, even preventing him from benefiting from his clarity of thought and moderation in desires, which often lead to great wealth—qualities he had in abundance. Nature probably included very little that could ignite passion in him; or, whatever tendencies towards excess she might have given him were effectively suppressed and eliminated by the strictness of his upbringing.
The sallies of his youth, far from being inordinate or criminal, never exceeded the bounds of that decent jollity which an extraordinary pot, on extraordinary occasions, may be supposed to have produced in a club of sedate book-keepers, whose imaginations were neither very warm nor luxuriant. Little subject to refined sensations, he was scarce ever disturbed with violent emotions of any kind. The passion of love never interrupted his tranquility; and if, as Mr. Creech says, after Horace,
The escapades of his youth, far from being excessive or wrong, never went beyond the limits of that respectable fun that an exceptional drink, on special occasions, might be expected to bring about in a group of serious accountants, whose imaginations weren't particularly vivid or lush. Rarely affected by refined feelings, he was hardly ever troubled by intense emotions of any kind. The passion of love never disrupted his calm; and if, as Mr. Creech says, after Horace,
Not to admire is all the art I know;
To make men happy, and to keep them so;
Not admiring is the only skill I have;
To make people happy, and to keep them that way;Mr. Pickle was undoubtedly possessed of that invaluable secret; at least, he was never known to betray the faintest symptom of transport, except one evening at the club, where he observed, with some demonstrations of vivacity, that he had dined upon a delicate loin of veal.
Mr. Pickle definitely had that priceless secret; at least, he was never seen to show the slightest hint of excitement, except one evening at the club, where he noted, with some signs of enthusiasm, that he had enjoyed a tender loin of veal for dinner.
Notwithstanding this appearance of phlegm, he could not help feeling his disappointments in trade; and upon the failure of a certain underwriter, by which he lost five hundred pounds, declared his design of relinquishing business, and retiring to the country. In this resolution he was comforted and encouraged by his only sister, Mrs. Grizzle, who had managed his family since the death of his father, and was now in the thirtieth year of her maidenhood, with a fortune of five thousand pounds, and a large stock of economy and devotion.
Despite his calm exterior, he couldn't shake off his disappointments in business. After the collapse of a certain underwriter, which cost him five hundred pounds, he announced his intention to quit trading and move to the countryside. He found comfort and support in his only sister, Mrs. Grizzle, who had taken care of the family since their father's death. Now in her thirties, she had a fortune of five thousand pounds, along with a considerable amount of practicality and dedication.
These qualifications, one would think, might have been the means of abridging the term of her celibacy, as she never expressed any aversion to wedlock; but, it seems, she was too delicate in her choice, to find a mate to her inclination in the city: for I cannot suppose that she remained so long unsolicited; though the charms of her person were not altogether enchanting, nor her manner over and above agreeable. Exclusive of a very wan (not to call it sallow) complexion, which, perhaps, was the effects of her virginity and mortification, she had a cast in her eyes that was not at all engaging; and such an extent of mouth, as no art or affectation could contract into any proportionable dimension; then her piety was rather peevish than resigned, and did not in the least diminish a certain stateliness in her demeanour and conversation, that delighted in communicating the importance and honour of her family, which, by the bye, was not to be traced two generations back by all the power of heraldry or tradition.
These qualifications might lead one to think that she would have had a shorter time being single, as she never showed any dislike for marriage; but it seems she was too picky to find someone she liked in the city. I can’t believe she went so long without any suitors, though her looks were not exactly captivating, and her personality wasn’t particularly charming either. Aside from her very pale (not to mention slightly unhealthy-looking) complexion, which may have been the result of her purity and self-denial, she had a gaze that was far from inviting, and her mouth was so wide that no trick or pretense could make it seem any smaller. Additionally, her piety came off as more irritable than accepting, and it did nothing to soften the certain pride in her demeanor and conversations, which seemed to relish in highlighting the importance and prestige of her family, which, by the way, couldn’t be traced back more than two generations by all the resources of heraldry or tradition.
She seemed to have renounced all the ideas she had acquired before her father served the office of sheriff; and the eye which regulated the dates of all her observation, was the mayoralty of her papa. Nay, so solicitous was this good lady for the support and propagation of the family name, that, suppressing every selfish motive, she actually prevailed upon her brother to combat with his own disposition, and even surmount it so far, as to declare a passion for the person whom he afterwards wedded, as we shall see in the sequel. Indeed, she was the spur that instigated him in all his extraordinary undertakings; and I question, whether he would or not have been able to disengage himself from that course of life in which he had so long mechanically moved, unless he had been roused and actuated by her incessant exhortations. London, she observed, was a receptacle of iniquity, where an honest, unsuspecting man was every day in danger of falling a sacrifice to craft; where innocence was exposed to continual temptations, and virtue eternally persecuted by malice and slander; where everything was ruled by caprice and corruption, and merit utterly discouraged and despised. This last imputation she pronounced with such emphasis and chagrin, as plainly denoted how far she considered herself as an example of what she advanced; and really the charge was justified by the constructions that were put upon her retreat by her female friends, who, far from imputing it to the laudable motives that induced her, insinuated, in sarcastic commendations, that she had good reason to be dissatisfied with a place where she had been so overlooked; and that it was certainly her wisest course to make her last effort in the country, where, in all probability, her talents would be less eclipsed, and her fortune more attractive.
She seemed to have abandoned all the ideas she had formed before her father became sheriff; and the perspective that shaped all her views was her dad's position as mayor. In fact, this caring woman was so determined to uphold and promote the family name that, putting aside any selfish motives, she managed to convince her brother to fight against his own feelings and even overcome them enough to admit his love for the person he later married, as we will see later. She was indeed the driving force behind all his remarkable endeavors; I wonder if he would have been able to break free from the routine he had been stuck in for so long if it hadn't been for her constant encouragement. She noticed that London was a hub of wickedness, where an honest, unsuspecting man was at risk every day of falling prey to deceit; where innocence faced constant temptation and virtue was endlessly attacked by malice and gossip; where everything was ruled by whims and corruption, and true merit was completely overlooked and despised. She emphasized this last point with such passion and frustration that it was clear how much she viewed herself as a reflection of her claims; and honestly, the accusation was validated by the interpretations her female friends made about her withdrawal, who, instead of attributing it to the commendable reasons that motivated her, suggested with sarcastic praise that she had every reason to be unhappy in a place where she had been so ignored; and that it was definitely her best option to make one last effort in the countryside, where her skills would likely shine more and her fortunes be much better.
Be this as it will, her admonitions, though they were powerful enough to convince, would have been insufficient to overcome the languor and vis inertiae of her brother, had she not reinforced her arguments, by calling in question the credit of two or three merchants, with whom he was embarked in trade.
Be that as it may, her warnings, while strong enough to persuade, wouldn't have been enough to shake off her brother's laziness and inertia if she hadn't strengthened her arguments by questioning the reliability of two or three merchants he was trading with.
Alarmed at these hints of intelligence, he exerted himself effectually; he withdrew his money from trade, and laying it out in Bank-stock, and India-bonds, removed to a house in the country, which his father had built near the sea-side, for the convenience of carrying on a certain branch of traffic in which he had been deeply concerned.
Alarmed by these signs of intelligence, he took decisive action; he pulled his money out of trade and invested it in bank stocks and India bonds, moving to a house in the countryside that his father had built near the seaside for the convenience of conducting a specific branch of trade he had been heavily involved in.
Here then Mr. Pickle fixed his habitation for life, in the six-and-thirtieth year of his age; and though the pangs he felt at parting with his intimate companions, and quitting all his former connections, were not quite so keen as to produce any dangerous disorder in his constitution, he did not fail to be extremely disconcerted at his first entrance into a scene of life to which he was totally a stranger. Not but that he met with abundance of people in the country, who, in consideration of his fortune, courted his acquaintance, and breathed nothing but friendship and hospitality; yet, even the trouble of receiving and returning these civilities was an intolerable fatigue to a man of his habits and disposition. He therefore left the care of the ceremonial to his sister, who indulged herself in all the pride of formality; while he himself, having made a discovery of a public-house in the neighbourhood, went thither every evening and enjoyed his pipe and can; being very well satisfied with the behaviour of the landlord, whose communicative temper was a great comfort to his own taciturnity; for he shunned all superfluity of speech, as much as he avoided any other unnecessary expense.
Here, Mr. Pickle settled down for good at the age of thirty-six. Although he felt some sadness leaving behind his close friends and his previous life, it wasn't intense enough to seriously affect his health. However, he was definitely uneasy stepping into a new world that felt entirely foreign to him. He did encounter quite a few people in the area who, because of his wealth, sought to befriend him and offered nothing but hospitality. Still, the effort of greeting and reciprocating their kindness was exhausting for a man like him. As a result, he let his sister handle all the formalities and enjoy the pride that came with it. Meanwhile, he discovered a local pub and went there every evening to enjoy his drink and smoke. He was pleased with the landlord, whose friendly nature was a great relief to his own reserved personality, as he preferred to avoid unnecessary chatter just as much as he avoided unnecessary spending.
CHAPTER II.
He is made acquainted with the Characters of Commodore Trunnion and his Adherents—Meets with them by Accident, and contracts an Intimacy with that Commander.
He gets to know the characters of Commodore Trunnion and his followers—meets them by chance and forms a close friendship with that commander.
This loquacious publican soon gave him sketches of all the characters in the county; and, among others, described that of his next neighbour, Commodore Trunnion, which was altogether singular and odd. “The commodore and your worship,” said he, “will in a short time be hand and glove, he has a power of money, and spends it like a prince—that is, in his own way—for to be sure he is a little humorsome, as the saying is, and swears woundily; though I'll be sworn he means no more harm than a sucking babe. Lord help us! it will do your honour's heart good to hear him tell a story, as how he lay alongside of the French, yard-arm and yard-arm, board and board, and of heaving grapplings, and stink-pots, and grapes, and round and double-headed partridges, crows and carters. Lord have mercy upon us! he has been a great warrior in his time, and lost an eye and a heel in the service. Then he does not live like any other Christian land-man; but keeps garrison in his house, as if he were in the midst of his enemies, and makes his servants turn out in the night, watch and watch as he calls it, all the year round. His habitation is defended by a ditch, over which he has laid a draw-bridge, and planted his court-yard with patereroes continually loaded with shot, under the direction of one Mr. Hatchway, who had one of his legs shot away while he acted as lieutenant on board the commodore's ship; and now, being on half-pay, lives with him as his companion. The lieutenant is a very brave man, a great joker, and, as the saying is, hath got the length of his commander's foot—though he has another favourite in the house called Tom Pipes, that was his boatswain's mate, and now keeps the servants in order. Tom is a man of few words, but an excellent hand at a song concerning the boatswain's whistle, hustle-cap, and chuck-farthing—there is not such another pipe in the county—so that the commodore lives very happy in his own manner; though he be sometimes thrown into perilous passions and quandaries, by the application of his poor kinsmen, whom he can't abide, because as how some of them were the first occasion of his going to sea. Then he sweats with agony at the sight of an attorney, just, for all the world, as some people have an antipathy to a cat: for it seems he was once at law, for striking one of his officers, and cast in a swinging sum. He is, moreover, exceedingly afflicted with goblins that disturb his rest, and keep such a racket in his house, that you would think (God bless us!) all the devils in hell had broke loose upon him. It was no longer ago than last year about this time, that he was tormented the livelong night by the mischievous spirits that got into his chamber, and played a thousand pranks about his hammock, for there is not one bed within his walls. Well, sir, he rang his bell, called up all his servants, got lights, and made a thorough search; but the devil a goblin was to be found. He had no sooner turned in again, and the rest of the family gone to sleep, than the foul fiends began their game anew. The commodore got up in the dark, drew his cutlass, and attacked them both so manfully, that in five minutes everything in the apartment went to pieces, The lieutenant, hearing the noise, came to his assistance. Tom Pipes, being told what was the matter, lighted his match, and going down to the yard, fired all the patereroes as signals of distress. Well, to be sure the whole parish was in a pucker: some thought the French had landed; others imagined the commodore's house was beset by thieves; for my own part, I called up two dragoons that are quartered upon me, and they swore, with deadly oaths, it was a gang of smugglers engaged with a party of their regiment that lies in the next village; and mounting their horses like lusty fellows, rode up into the country as fast as their beasts could carry them. Ah, master! These are hard times, when an industrious body cannot earn his bread without fear of the gallows. Your worship's father (God rest his soul!) was a good gentleman, and as well respected in this parish as e'er a he that walks upon neat's leather; and if your honour should want a small parcel of fine tea, or a few ankers of right Nantes, I'll be bound you shall be furnished to your heart's content. But, as I was saying, the hubbub continued till morning, when the parson being sent for, conjured the spirits into the Red Sea; and the house has been pretty quiet ever since. True it is, Mr. Hatchway makes a mock of the whole affair; and told his commander, in this very blessed spot, that the two goblins were no other than a couple of jackdaws which had fallen down the chimney, and made a flapping with their wings up and down the apartment. But the commodore, who is very choleric, and does not like to be jeered, fell into a main high passion, and stormed like a perfect hurricane, swearing that he knew a devil from a jackdaw as well as e'er a man in the three kingdoms. He owned, indeed, that the birds were found, but denied that they were the occasion of the uproar. For my own part, master, I believe much may be said on both sides of the question; though to be sure, the devil is always going about, as the saying is.”
This talkative innkeeper soon gave him sketches of all the characters in the county; and, among others, described his next neighbor, Commodore Trunnion, who was quite unique and strange. “You and the commodore,” he said, “will soon be best buddies; he’s got a lot of money and spends it like a prince—at least in his own way—because he’s a bit eccentric, as they say, and swears a lot; though I’d swear he means no more harm than a baby. Goodness! it will do your honor's heart good to hear him tell a story about how he was side by side with the French, yard-arm to yard-arm, and of grappling and stink-pots, and grapes, and round and double-headed partridges, crows, and carters. Lord have mercy! he’s been a great warrior in his time, losing an eye and a heel in service. Plus, he doesn’t live like any other regular person; he keeps a garrison at his house, as if he were amidst enemies, and makes his servants turn out at night, what he calls ‘watch and watch’ all year round. His home is protected by a ditch with a drawbridge over it, and his courtyard is filled with loaded cannons, all supervised by Mr. Hatchway, who had a leg blown off while serving as a lieutenant on the commodore's ship; now, on half-pay, he lives with him as a companion. The lieutenant is a brave guy, a great joker, and, as the saying goes, he knows how to match his commander’s mood—though he also has another favorite in the house named Tom Pipes, who was his boatswain's mate and now keeps the servants in line. Tom doesn’t say much, but he’s great at singing about the boatswain's whistle, hustle-cap, and chuck-farthing—there’s no one like him in the county—so the commodore lives quite happily in his own way; although he occasionally gets into dangerous rages because of his annoying relatives, who he can’t stand, since they were part of the reason he went to sea in the first place. Then, he freaks out at the sight of a lawyer, just like some people can't stand cats: it seems he once got into legal trouble for hitting one of his officers and ended up owing a hefty sum. Additionally, he's plagued by spirits that disturb his sleep, making such noise in his house you'd think (God bless us!) that all the devils from hell had broken loose on him. Just last year around this time, he was kept awake all night by mischievous spirits that entered his room and played tricks around his hammock, since he doesn’t have a proper bed in his place. He rang his bell, called up all his servants, got the lights, and conducted a thorough search, but he couldn’t find a single goblin. As soon as he got back into bed and the rest of the household fell asleep, the pesky spirits started up again. The commodore got up in the dark, drew his sword, and bravely fought them off, causing everything in the room to get smashed in five minutes. The lieutenant, hearing the commotion, rushed to help him. Tom Pipes, being informed of the situation, lit his match and ran to the yard, firing all the cannons as distress signals. Well, you can be sure the whole parish was in a tizzy: some thought the French had landed, others imagined thieves were attacking the commodore's house; for my part, I woke up two dragoons stationed with me, and they swore, with fierce oaths, that it was a gang of smugglers against a party from their regiment that was in the next village; and they mounted their horses like real soldiers and rode off into the countryside as fast as they could. Ah, master! These are tough times when a hardworking person can’t earn a living without fearing the gallows. Your father (God rest his soul!) was a good man and well-respected in this parish like no other walking on leather shoes; and if you need a small batch of fine tea, or a few barrels of good Nantes wine, I’m sure you’ll get what you want. But, as I was saying, the ruckus went on until morning, when the parson was called, and he banished the spirits back into the Red Sea; and the house has been pretty quiet ever since. It’s true that Mr. Hatchway makes light of the whole situation and told his commander right here that the two goblins were just a couple of jackdaws that fell down the chimney and were flapping around the room. But the commodore, who has a bad temper and hates being mocked, got really furious and raged like a hurricane, insisting he could tell a devil from a jackdaw better than anyone in all three kingdoms. He admitted the birds were found but denied they caused the chaos. For my part, master, I believe both sides have a point, though it’s clear that the devil is always on the move, as they say.”
This circumstantial account, extraordinary as it was, never altered one feature in the countenance of Mr. Pickle, who, having heard it to an end, took the pipe from his mouth, saying, with a look of infinite sagacity and deliberation, “I do suppose he is of the Cornish Trunnions. What sort of a woman is his spouse?” “Spouse!” cried the other; “odds-heart! I don't think he would marry the queen of Sheba. Lack-a-day! sir, he won't suffer his own maids to be in the garrison, but turns them into an out-house every night before the watch is set. Bless your honour's soul, he is, as it were, a very oddish kind of a gentleman. Your worship would have seen him before now; for, when he is well, he and my good master Hatchway come hither every evening, and drink a couple of cans of rumbo a piece; but he has been confined to his house this fortnight by a plaguy fit of the gout, which, I'll assure your worship, is a good penny out of my pocket.”
This detailed story, as unusual as it was, didn’t change a thing about Mr. Pickle's expression, who, after listening to it completely, took the pipe from his mouth and said, with an air of great wisdom and thoughtfulness, “I suppose he’s from the Cornish Trunnions. What kind of woman is his wife?” “Wife!” exclaimed the other; “good heavens! I doubt he would even marry the queen of Sheba. Honestly! He doesn’t even let his own maids stay in the barracks; he sends them to an out-building every night before the watch is set. Believe me, he’s quite a peculiar sort of gentleman. Your honor would have noticed him by now; he and my good master Hatchway come here every evening and have a couple of mugs of rum each; but he’s been stuck at home for the past two weeks with a nasty bout of gout, which, I can assure you, has cost me quite a bit of money.”
At that instant, Mr. Pickle's ears were saluted with such a strange noise, as even discomposed the muscles of his face, which gave immediate indications of alarm. This composition of notes at first resembled the crying of quails, and croaking of bull-dogs; but as it approached nearer, he could distinguish articulate sounds pronounced with great violence, in such a cadence as one would expect to hear from a human creature scolding through the organs of an ass; it was neither speaking nor braying, but a surprising mixture of both, employed in the utterance of terms absolutely unintelligible to our wondering merchant, who had just opened his mouth to express his curiosity, when the starting up at the well-known sound, cried, “Odd's niggers! there is the commodore with his company, as sure as I live,” and with his apron began to wipe the dust off an elbow-chair placed at one side of the fire, and kept sacred for the ease and convenience of this infirm commander. While he was thus occupied, a voice, still more uncouth than the former, bawled aloud, “Ho! the house, a-hoy!” Upon which the publican, clapping a hand to each side of his head with his thumbs fixed to his ears, rebellowed in the same tone, which he had learned to imitate, “Hilloah.” The voice again exclaimed, “Have you got any attorneys aboard?” and when the landlord replied, “No, no,” this man of strange expectation came in, supported by his two dependents, and displayed a figure every way answerable to the oddity of his character. He was in stature at least six feet high, though he had contracted a habit of stooping, by living so long on board; his complexion was tawny, and his aspect rendered hideous by a large scar across his nose, and a patch that covered the place of one eye. Being seated in his chair, with great formality the landlord complimented him upon his being able to come abroad again; and having in a whisper communicated the name of his fellow-guest, whom the commodore already knew by report, went to prepare, with all imaginable despatch, the first allowance of his favourite liquor, in three separate cans (for each was accommodated with his own portion apart), while the lieutenant sat down on the blind side of his commander; and Tom Pipes, knowing his distance, with great modesty took his station in the rear.
At that moment, Mr. Pickle heard such a strange noise that it even disturbed the muscles in his face, showing his alarm immediately. At first, the sounds resembled the crying of quails and the barking of bulldogs; but as it got closer, he could make out loud, articulate words that sounded like a person scolding through the voice of a donkey. It wasn't exactly speaking or braying, but a surprising mix of both, filled with words that were completely unintelligible to our astonished merchant, who had just opened his mouth to express his curiosity when, startled by the familiar sound, he shouted, “Odd's niggers! there’s the commodore with his crew, I swear,” and began to wipe the dust off an armchair next to the fire, which was kept for the comfort of this frail commander. While he was busy, a voice, even stranger than the previous one, called out, “Ho! the house, ahoy!” The pub owner, putting his hands to the sides of his head with his thumbs in his ears, echoed back in that same tone he had learned to mimic, “Hilloah.” The voice shouted again, “Do you have any lawyers on board?” and when the landlord answered, “No, no,” this oddly expectant man entered, supported by two followers, displaying a figure that matched his peculiar character. He stood at least six feet tall, though he had developed a stoop from living aboard for so long; his skin was dark, and his appearance made hideous by a large scar across his nose and a patch covering one eye. After sitting in his chair, the landlord formally praised him for being able to come out again; and having whispered the name of his fellow guest, whom the commodore already knew about, he hurriedly prepared the first round of his favorite drink in three separate mugs (each getting their own portion), while the lieutenant sat down on the blind side of his commander, and Tom Pipes, knowing his place, modestly took a position in the back.
After a pause of some minutes, the conversation was begun by this ferocious chief, who, fixing his eye upon the lieutenant with a sternness of countenance not to be described, addressed him in these words: “D— my eyes! Hatchway, I always took you to be a better seaman than to overset our chaise in such fair weather. Blood! didn't I tell you we were running bump ashore, and bid you set in the ice-brace, and haul up a wind?”—“Yes,” replied the other, with an arch sneer, “I do confess as how you did give such orders, after you had run us foul of a post, so as that the carriage lay along, and could not right herself.”—“I run you foul of a post!” cried the commander: “d— my heart! you're a pretty dog, an't you, to tell me so above-board to my face? Did I take charge of the chaise? Did I stand at the helm?”—“No,” answered Hatchway; “I must confess you did not steer; but, howsomever, you cunned all the way, and so, as you could not see how the land lay, being blind of your larboard eye, we were fast ashore before you knew anything of the matter, Pipes, who stood abaft, can testify the truth of what I say.”—“D— my limbs!” resumed the commodore, “I don't value what you or Pipes say a rope-yarn. You're a couple of mutinous—I'll say no more; but you shan't run your rig upon me, d— ye, I am the man that learnt you, Jack Hatchway, to splice a rope and raise a perpendicular.”
After a brief pause, the fierce chief started the conversation, looking at the lieutenant with an intensity that was hard to describe. He said, “D— my eyes! Hatchway, I always thought you were a better sailor than to tip our carriage over in such nice weather. Damn! Didn’t I warn you we were headed straight for the shore and told you to set the ice-brace and head into the wind?”—“Yes,” replied the other with a sly grin, “I admit you gave those orders, but only after you had run us into a post, causing the carriage to tip over and unable to right itself.” —“I ran you into a post!” shouted the commander. “D— my heart! You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you, saying that to my face? Did I take control of the carriage? Did I steer it?”—“No,” said Hatchway, “I’ll admit you didn’t steer, but you directed the entire way, and since you couldn’t see how things were from your blind left eye, we got stuck on the shore before you even realized it; Pipes, who was standing behind, can back up what I’m saying.” —“D— my limbs!” the commodore shot back, “I don’t care what you or Pipes say, not a bit. You're a couple of mutinous—I'll say no more; but you won’t get one over on me, damn you, I’m the one who taught you, Jack Hatchway, how to splice a rope and raise a vertical sail.”
The lieutenant, who was perfectly well acquainted with the trim of his captain, did not choose to carry on the altercation any further; but taking up his can, drank to the health of the stranger, who very courteously returned the compliment, without, however, presuming to join in the conversation, which suffered a considerable pause. During this interruption, Mr. Hatchway's wit displayed itself in several practical jokes upon the commodore, with whom he knew it was dangerous to tamper in any other way. Being without the sphere of his vision, he securely pilfered his tobacco, drank his rumbo, made wry faces, and, to use the vulgar phrase, cocked his eye at him, to the no small entertainment of the spectators, Mr. Pickle himself not excepted, who gave evident tokens of uncommon satisfaction at the dexterity of this marine pantomime.
The lieutenant, who was well aware of his captain's temperament, decided not to continue the argument; instead, he raised his cup and toasted the stranger, who politely returned the gesture but didn't feel it appropriate to join the conversation, which fell into a considerable silence. During this lull, Mr. Hatchway showcased his humor with several practical jokes aimed at the commodore, knowing it was risky to approach him in any other way. Out of the commodore's sight, he discreetly swiped his tobacco, drank his rum, made funny faces, and, to put it bluntly, gave him cheeky looks, much to the amusement of onlookers, including Mr. Pickle, who clearly showed great enjoyment of this marine antics.
Meanwhile, the captain's choler gradually subsided, and he was pleased to desire Hatchway, by the familiar and friendly diminutive of Jack, to read a newspaper that lay on the table before him. This task was accordingly undertaken by the lame lieutenant, who, among paragraphs, read that which follows, with an elevation of voice which seemed to prognosticate something extraordinary: “We are informed, that Admiral Bower will very soon be created a British peer, for his eminent services during the war, particularly in his late engagement with the French fleet.”
Meanwhile, the captain's anger gradually faded, and he happily asked Hatchway, using the friendly nickname Jack, to read a newspaper that was on the table in front of him. The lame lieutenant took on the task and, among various articles, read the following with a raised voice that hinted at something significant: “We have been informed that Admiral Bower will soon be made a British peer for his outstanding services during the war, especially in his recent battle with the French fleet.”
Trunnion was thunderstruck at this piece of intelligence: the mug dropped front his hand, and shivered into a thousand pieces; his eye glistened like that of a rattle-snake; and some minutes elapsed before he could pronounce, “Avast! overhaul that article again!”
Trunnion was stunned by this piece of news: the mug dropped from his hand and shattered into a thousand pieces; his eyes glinted like a rattlesnake's; and it took him several minutes to say, “Wait! Check that item again!”
It was no sooner read the second time, than, smiting the table with his fist, he started up, and, with the most violent emphasis of rage and indignation, exclaimed, “D— my heart and liver! 'tis a land lie, d'ye see; and I will maintain it to be a lie, from the sprit-sail yard to the mizen-top-sail haulyards! Blood and thunder! Will. Bower a peer of this realm! a fellow of yesterday, that scarce knows a mast from a manger! a snotty-nose boy, whom I myself have ordered to the gun, for stealing eggs out of the hen-coops! and I, Hawser Trunnion, who commanded a ship before he could keep a reckoning, am laid aside, d'ye see, and forgotten! If so be as this be the case, there is a rotten plank in our constitution, which ought to be hove down and repaired, d— my eyes! For my own part, d'ye see, I was none of your Guinea pigs: I did not rise in the service by parlamenteering interest, or a handsome b— of a wife. I was not over the bellies of better men, nor strutted athwart the quarter-deck in a laced doublet, and thingumbobs at the wrists. D— my limbs! I have been a hard-working man, and served all offices on board from cook's shifter to the command of a vessel. Here, you Tunley, there's the hand of a seaman, you dog.”
As soon as he read it a second time, he slammed his fist on the table, jumped up, and shouted with intense anger and indignation, “Damn my heart and liver! It’s a land lie, you see; and I’ll stand by that from the sprit-sail yard to the mizen-top-sail halyards! Blood and thunder! Will Bower a peer of this realm! Some guy from yesterday who hardly knows a mast from a manger! A snotty-nosed kid whom I’ve sent to the gun for stealing eggs from the hen-coops! And I, Hawser Trunnion, who commanded a ship before he could even keep track of things, am pushed aside, you see, and forgotten! If this is how it is, there’s something seriously wrong with our system that needs to be fixed, damn my eyes! For my part, you see, I didn’t climb the ranks through political connections or a pretty wife. I didn’t step over the backs of better men, nor pranced around the quarter-deck in a fancy uniform and frills on my sleeves. Damn my limbs! I’ve been a hard-working man, and I’ve held every position on board from cook’s helper to the captain of a ship. Here, you Tunley, feel this hand of a seaman, you dog.”
So saying, he laid hold on the landlord's fist, and honoured him with such a squeeze, as compelled him to roar with great vociferation, to the infinite satisfaction of the commodore, whose features were a little unblended by this acknowledgment of his vigour; and he thus proceeded, in a less outrageous strain: “They make a d—d noise about this engagement with the French: but, egad! it was no more than a bumboat battle, in comparison with some that I have seen. There was old Rook and Jennings, and another whom I'll be d—d before I name, that knew what fighting was. As for my own share, d'ye see, I am none of those that hallo in their own commendation: but if so be that I were minded to stand my own trumpeter, some of those little fellows that hold their heads so high would be taken all aback, as the saying is: they would be ashamed to show their colours, d— my eyes! I once lay eight glasses alongside of the Flour de Louse, a French man-of-war, though her mettle was heavier, and her complement larger by a hundred hands than mine. You, Jack Hatchway, d— ye, what d'ye grin at! D'ye think I tell a story, because you never heard it before?”
So saying, he grabbed the landlord's fist and gave it such a squeeze that it made him yell loudly, much to the delight of the commodore, whose expression showed a bit of surprise at this show of strength. He then continued, in a calmer tone: “They make a huge noise about this engagement with the French: but honestly, it was nothing more than a minor skirmish compared to some battles I've seen. There were old Rook and Jennings, plus another guy I'll be damned before I name, who knew what real fighting was. As for me, I'm not one to brag about myself: but if I wanted to be my own trumpet-blower, some of those little guys who act so important would be totally shocked, as they say; they'd be embarrassed to show their true selves, damn it! I once went toe-to-toe with the Flour de Louse, a French warship, even though she had heavier firepower and a crew that was a hundred men bigger than mine. You, Jack Hatchway, damn you, what are you grinning at! Do you think I'm just making this up because you haven't heard it before?”
“Why, look ye, sir,” answered the lieutenant, “I am glad to find you can stand your own trumpeter on occasion; though I wish you would change the tune, for that is the same you have been piping every watch for these ten months past. Tunley himself will tell you he has heard it five hundred times.”—“God forgive you! Mr. Hatchway,” said the landlord, interrupting him; “as I am an honest man and a housekeeper, I never heard a syllable of the matter.”
“Why, look here, sir,” the lieutenant replied, “I’m glad to see you can handle your own trumpeter sometimes; though I wish you’d change the tune, because it’s the same one you’ve been playing every watch for the last ten months. Tunley himself will tell you he’s heard it five hundred times.” — “God forgive you! Mr. Hatchway,” the landlord interrupted, “as I’m an honest man and a landlord, I’ve never heard a word about it.”
This declaration, though not strictly true, was extremely agreeable to Mr. Trunnion, who, with an air of triumph, observed, “Aha! Jack, I thought I should bring you up, with your gibes and your jokes: but suppose you had heard it before, is that any reason why it shouldn't be told to another person? There's the stranger, belike he has heard it five hundred times too; han't you, brother?” addressing himself to Mr. Pickle; who replying, with a look expressing curiosity, “No, never;” he thus went on: “Well, you seem to be an honest, quiet sort of a man; and therefore you must know, as I said before, I fell in with a French man-of-war, Cape Finistere bearing about six leagues on the weather bow, and the chase three leagues to leeward, going before the wind: whereupon I set my studding sails; and coming up with her, hoisted my jack and ensign, and poured in a broadside, before you could count three rattlins in the mizen shrouds; for I always keep a good look-out, and love to have the first fire.”
This declaration, while not entirely accurate, was very pleasing to Mr. Trunnion, who, with a triumphant demeanor, remarked, “Aha! Jack, I thought I would get you with your teasing and jokes: but even if you had heard it before, does that mean it shouldn’t be told to someone else? There’s the stranger; maybe he has heard it five hundred times too, right?” speaking to Mr. Pickle, who replied, with a look of curiosity, “No, never;” thus Mr. Trunnion continued: “Well, you seem like a decent, quiet sort of guy; so you must understand, as I mentioned earlier, I ran into a French man-of-war, with Cape Finisterre about six leagues off to the weather bow, and the chase three leagues to leeward, moving before the wind: so I set my studding sails; and as I approached her, I raised my jack and ensign, and unleashed a broadside before you could even count to three on the mizen shrouds; because I always keep a good watch and like to have the first shot.”
“That I'll be sworn,” said Hatchway: “for the day we made the Triumph you ordered the men to fire when she was hull-to, by the same token we below pointed the guns at a flight of gulls; and I won a can of punch from the gunner by killing the first bird.”
"Can you believe it?" said Hatchway. "On the day we launched the Triumph, you ordered the crew to fire when she was hull-to, and down below, we aimed the guns at a flock of gulls; I even won a can of punch from the gunner by taking out the first bird."
Exasperated at this sarcasm, he replied, with great vehemence, “You lie, lubber! D— your bones! what business have you to come always athwart my hawse in this manner? You, Pipes, was upon deck, and can bear witness whether or not I fired too soon. Speak, you blood of a ——, and that upon the word of a seaman: how did the chase bear of us when I gave orders to fire?”
Frustrated by the sarcasm, he responded forcefully, “You’re lying, you fool! Damn your bones! What right do you have to constantly get in my way like this? You, Pipes, were on deck and can confirm whether I fired too soon or not. Speak up, you son of a —, and say it like a sailor: how was the chase positioned when I ordered the shot?”
Pipes, who had hitherto sat silent, being thus called upon to give his evidence, after divers strange gesticulations, opened his mouth like a gasping cod, and with a cadence like that of the east wind singing through a cranny, pronounced, “Half a quarter of a league right upon our lee-beam.”
Pipes, who had been silent until now, was suddenly asked to give his testimony. After a few odd gestures, he opened his mouth like a fish out of water and, with a sound like the east wind whistling through a crack, said, “Half a quarter of a league right on our lee-beam.”
“Nearer, you porpuss-faced swab,” cried the commodore, “nearer by twelve fathom: but, howsomever, that's enough to prove the falsehood of Hatchway's jaw—and so, brother, d'ye see,” turning to Pickle, “I lay alongside of the Flour de Louse, yard-arm and yard-arm, plying out great guns and small arms, and heaving in stink-pots, powder-bottles, and hand-grenades, till our shot was all expended, double-headed, partridge and grape: then we loaded with iron crows, marlin-spikes, and old nails; but finding the Frenchman took a good deal of drubbing, and that he had shot away all our rigging, and killed and wounded a great number of our men, d'ye see, I resolved to run him on board upon his quarter, and so ordered our grapplings to be got ready; but monsieur, perceiving what we were about, filled his topsails and sheered off, leaving us like a log upon the water, and our scuppers running with blood.”
“Come closer, you porpuss-faced swab,” yelled the commodore, “closer by twelve fathoms: but anyway, that’s enough to show the lies in Hatchway's story—and so, brother, you see,” turning to Pickle, “I lined up alongside the Flour de Louse, yard-arm to yard-arm, firing our big guns and small arms, and throwing stink-pots, powder bottles, and hand grenades, until we ran out of double-headed, partridge, and grape shots: then we loaded up with iron bars, marlin spikes, and old nails; but seeing that the Frenchman was taking quite a beating, and that he had shot away all our rigging and killed and wounded many of our crew, you see, I decided to board him from his quarter, so I ordered our grappling hooks to be readied; but monsieur, noticing what we were up to, filled his topsails and pulled away, leaving us like a log on the water, with our scuppers running with blood.”
Mr. Pickle and the landlord paid such extraordinary attention to the rehearsal of this exploit, that Trunnion was encouraged to entertain them with more stories of the same nature; after which he observed, by way of encomium on the government, that all he had gained in the service was a lame foot and the loss of an eye. The lieutenant, who could not find in his heart to lose any opportunity of being witty at the expense of his commander, gave a loose to his satirical talent once more, saying,—“I have heard as how you came by your lame foot, by having your upper decks over-stowed with liquor, whereby you became crank, and rolled, d'ye see, in such a manner, that by a pitch of the ship your starboard heel was jammed in one of the scuppers; and as for the matter of your eye, that was knocked out by your own crew when the Lightning was paid off: there's poor Pipes, who was beaten into all the colours of the rainbow for taking your part, and giving you time to sheer off; and I don't find as how you have rewarded him according as he deserves.”
Mr. Pickle and the landlord paid such close attention to the rehearsal of this adventure that Trunnion was encouraged to share more stories of the same kind; after which he remarked, as a compliment to the government, that all he had gained in the service was a lame foot and the loss of an eye. The lieutenant, who couldn’t resist the chance to be witty at his commander's expense, once again let loose his sarcastic talent, saying, “I’ve heard that you got your lame foot because you had too much liquor on board, which made you cranky, and you rolled, you see, in such a way that by the ship pitching, your starboard heel got stuck in one of the scuppers; and as for your eye, that was knocked out by your own crew when the Lightning was decommissioned: there's poor Pipes, who got beaten black and blue for backing you up and giving you a chance to escape; and I don’t see how you’ve rewarded him as he deserves.”
As the commodore could not deny the truth of these anecdotes, however unseasonably they were introduced, he affected to receive them with good humour, as jokes of the lieutenant's own inventing; and replied, “Ay, ay, Jack, everybody knows your tongue is no slander; but, howsomever, I'll work you to an oil for this, you dog.” So saying, he lifted up one of his crutches, intending to lay it gently across Mr. Hatchway's pate; but Jack, with great agility, tilted up his wooden leg, with which he warded off the blow, to the no small admiration of Mr. Pickle, and utter astonishment of the landlord, who, by the bye, had expressed the same amazement, at the same feet, at the same hour, every night, for three months before. Trunnion then, directing his eye to the boatswain's mate, “You, Pipes,” said he, “do you go about and tell people that I did not reward you for standing by me, when I was bustled by these rebellious rapscallions? D— you, han't you been rated on the books ever since?”
As the commodore couldn't deny the truth of these stories, no matter how awkwardly they were brought up, he pretended to take them with good humor, as if they were jokes made up by the lieutenant. He replied, “Yeah, yeah, Jack, everyone knows your words aren’t slander; but, just so you know, I’ll make you pay for this, you rascal.” With that, he lifted one of his crutches, planning to gently tap Mr. Hatchway on the head; but Jack, with impressive speed, propped up his wooden leg to block the blow, much to Mr. Pickle’s amazement and the landlord’s utter shock, who, by the way, had shown the same surprise at the same scene at the same time every night for the past three months. Trunnion then turned his gaze to the boatswain’s mate, “You, Pipes,” he said, “are you going around telling people that I didn’t reward you for standing with me when those rebellious rascals crowded me? Damn you, haven’t you been listed on the records ever since?”
Tom, who indeed had no words to spare, sat smoking his pipe with great indifference, and never dreamed of paying any regard to these interrogations; which being repeated and reinforced with many oaths, that, however, produced no effect, the commodore pulled out his purse, saying, “Here, you b— baby, here's something better than a smart ticket;” and threw it at his silent deliverer, who received and pocketed his bounty, without the least demonstration of surprise or satisfaction; while the donor, turning to Mr. Pickle, “You see, brother,” said he, “I make good the old saying; we sailors get money like horses, and spend it like asses: come, Pipes, let's have the boatswain's whistle, and be jovial.”
Tom, who really had nothing to say, sat smoking his pipe with great indifference and never thought to respond to these questions. When they were repeated and backed up with a lot of swearing, which didn’t change anything, the commodore pulled out his wallet and said, “Here, you baby, here’s something better than a smart ticket,” and tossed it at his silent rescuer, who accepted it and tucked it away without showing any surprise or satisfaction. The donor then turned to Mr. Pickle and said, “You see, brother, I prove the old saying; we sailors make money like horses and spend it like fools. Come on, Pipes, let’s have the boatswain’s whistle and celebrate.”
This musician accordingly applied to his mouth the silver instrument that hung at the button-hole of his jacket, by a chain of the same metal, and though not quite so ravishing as the pipe of Hermes, produced a sound so loud and shrill, that the stranger, as it were instinctively, stopped his ears, to preserve his organs of hearing from such a dangerous invasion. The prelude being thus executed, Pipes fixed his eyes upon the egg of an ostrich that depended from the ceiling, and without once moving them from that object, performed the whole cantata in a tone of voice that seemed to be the joint issue of an Irish bagpipe and a sow-gelder's horn: the commodore, the lieutenant, and landlord, joined in the chorus, repeating this elegant stanza:—
This musician then brought the silver instrument that hung from his jacket's buttonhole, connected by a chain of the same metal, to his mouth. Although it wasn't as enchanting as Hermes' pipe, it produced a sound so loud and shrill that the stranger instinctively covered his ears to protect his hearing from such a harsh assault. Once the prelude was completed, Pipes fixed his gaze on the ostrich egg hanging from the ceiling and, without looking away from it, performed the entire cantata in a voice that seemed to blend an Irish bagpipe with a pig's horn. The commodore, the lieutenant, and the landlord joined in the chorus, repeating this elegant stanza:—
Bustle, bustle, brave boys!
Let us sing, let us toil,
And drink all the while,
Since labour's the price of our joys.
Hurry, hurry, brave boys!
Let’s sing, let’s work,
And drink the whole time,
Since hard work is the cost of our happiness.The third line was no sooner pronounced, than the can was lifted to every man's mouth with admirable uniformity; and the next word taken up at the end of their draught with a twang equally expressive and harmonious. In short, the company began to understand one another; Mr. Pickle seemed to relish the entertainment, and a correspondence immediately commenced between him and Trunnion, who shook him by the hand, drank to further acquaintance, and even invited him to a mess of pork and pease in the garrison. The compliment was returned, good-fellowship prevailed, and the night was pretty far advanced, when the merchant's man arrived with a lantern to light his master home; upon which, the new friends parted, after a mutual promise of meeting next evening in the same place.
The third line was barely spoken when the can was raised to everyone's lips in perfect unison; and the next word was picked up at the end of their drink with a sound that was equally expressive and pleasant. In short, the group started to connect with one another; Mr. Pickle seemed to enjoy the gathering, and a conversation quickly started between him and Trunnion, who shook his hand, proposed a toast to their growing friendship, and even invited him to a meal of pork and peas at the garrison. The compliment was reciprocated, camaraderie took over, and the night was well along when the merchant's man arrived with a lantern to guide his boss home; at which point, the new friends said goodbye after agreeing to meet again the next evening in the same spot.
CHAPTER III.
Mrs. Grizzle exerts herself in finding a proper Match for her Brother; who is accordingly introduced to the young Lady, whom he marries in due Season.
Mrs. Grizzle works hard to find a suitable match for her brother; he is then introduced to the young lady, whom he marries in due time.
I have been the more circumstantial in opening the character of Trunnion, because he bears a considerable share in the course of these memoirs; but now it is high time to resume the consideration of Mrs. Grizzle, who, since her arrival in the country, had been engrossed by a double care, namely, that of finding a suitable match for her brother, and a comfortable yoke-fellow for herself.
I have provided more details about Trunnion's character because he plays a significant role in these memoirs; however, it's now time to focus again on Mrs. Grizzle, who, since coming to the country, has been preoccupied with two concerns: finding a suitable partner for her brother and a comfortable husband for herself.
Neither was this aim the result of any sinister or frail aggression, but the pure dictates of that laudable ambition, which prompted her to the preservation of the family name. Nay, so disinterested was she in this pursuit, that, postponing her nearest concern, or at least leaving her own fate to the silent operation of her charms, she laboured with such indefatigable zeal in behalf of her brother, that before they had been three months settled in the country, the general topic of conversation in the neighbourhood was an intended match between the rich Mr. Pickle and the fair Miss Appleby, daughter of a gentleman who lived in the next parish, and who though he had but little fortune to bestow upon his children, had, to use his own phrase, replenished their veins with some of the best blood in the country.
Neither was this goal the result of any malicious or weak aggression, but the genuine drive of a commendable ambition, which motivated her to preserve the family name. In fact, she was so selfless in this pursuit that, putting aside her own concerns, or at least leaving her fate to the subtle power of her charms, she worked with such tireless enthusiasm for her brother that within three months of their settling in the area, the main topic of conversation among the neighbors was a planned match between the wealthy Mr. Pickle and the lovely Miss Appleby, daughter of a gentleman who lived in the neighboring parish, and who, although he had little fortune to pass onto his children, had, to use his own words, filled their veins with some of the finest blood in the country.
This young lady, whose character and disposition Mrs. Grizzle had investigated to her own satisfaction, was destined for the spouse of Mr. Pickle; and an overture accordingly made to her father, who, being overjoyed at the proposal, gave his consent without hesitation, and even recommended the immediate execution of the project with such eagerness, as seemed to indicate either a suspicion of Mr. Pickle's constancy, or a diffidence of his own daughter's complexion, which perhaps he thought too sanguine to keep much longer cool. The previous point being thus settled, our merchant, at the instigation of Mrs. Grizzle, went to visit his future father-in-law, and was introduced to the daughter, with whom he had, that same afternoon, an opportunity of being alone. What passed in that interview I never could learn, though from the character of the suitor, the reader may justly conclude that she was not much teased with the impertinence of his addresses. He was not, I believe, the less welcome for that reason: certain it is she made no objection to his taciturnity; and when her father communicated his resolution, acquiesced with the most pious resignation. But Mrs. Grizzle, in order to give the lady a more favourable idea of his intellects than his conversation could possibly inspire, resolved to dictate a letter, which her brother should transcribe and transmit to his mistress as the produce of his own understanding, and had actually composed a very tender billet for this purpose; yet her intention was entirely frustrated by the misapprehension of the lover himself, who, in consequence of his sister's repeated admonitions, anticipated her scheme, by writing, for himself, and despatching the letter one afternoon, while Mrs. Grizzle was visiting at the parson's.
This young woman, whose character and personality Mrs. Grizzle had thoroughly checked to her satisfaction, was meant to be Mr. Pickle's wife. An approach was made to her father, who was thrilled with the proposal and quickly gave his consent. He even eagerly suggested that the plans be carried out immediately, which seemed to imply either that he doubted Mr. Pickle's loyalty or felt insecure about his own daughter's temperament, which he might have thought was too hot to stay calm for long. With that matter settled, our merchant, at Mrs. Grizzle's urging, went to visit his future father-in-law and was introduced to the daughter. He had, that same afternoon, a chance to be alone with her. What happened during that meeting I could never find out, but given the nature of the suitor, it’s fair to assume she wasn’t bothered much by his awkwardness. I believe he was still welcome for that reason. It’s clear she had no problem with his quietness, and when her father shared his decision, she accepted it with a peaceful resignation. However, Mrs. Grizzle wanted to give the lady a better impression of his intelligence than his conversation could provide. She decided to write a letter for her brother to copy and send to his love as if it were his own work and had actually come up with a very sweet note for this purpose. Yet her plan was completely undone by the misunderstanding of the suitor himself, who, following his sister's repeated reminders, jumped the gun by writing his own letter and sending it one afternoon while Mrs. Grizzle was visiting the parson.
Neither was this step the effect of his vanity or precipitation; but having been often assured by his sister that it was absolutely necessary for him to make a declaration of his love in writing, he took this opportunity of acting in conformity with her advice, when his imagination was unengaged or undisturbed by any other suggestion, without suspecting in the least that she intended to save him the trouble of exercising his own genius. Left, therefore, as he imagined, to his own inventions, he sat down, and produced the following morceau, which was transmitted to Miss Appleby, before his sister and counsellor had the least intimation of the affair:—
Neither was this step driven by his vanity or haste; rather, after being repeatedly told by his sister that it was essential for him to declare his love in writing, he decided to follow her advice when his mind was clear and free from other distractions, not realizing at all that she aimed to spare him the effort of using his own creativity. So, believing he was left to his own devices, he sat down and came up with the following piece, which was sent to Miss Appleby before his sister and advisor had any idea about the situation:—
“Miss Sally Appleby.
“Madam,—Understanding you have a parcel of heart, warranted
sound, to be disposed of, shall be pleased to treat for said
commodity, on reasonable terms; doubt not, shall agree for
same; shall wait on you for further information, when and where
you shall appoint. This the needful from—Yours, etc.
“Gam. Pickle.”
“Miss Sally Appleby.
“Madam,—I understand you have a healthy heart for sale. I would be happy to negotiate the terms for this. I have no doubt we can come to an agreement. I will wait for your instructions on when and where to meet. This is all I need to say—Yours, etc.
“Gam. Pickle.”This laconic epistle, simple and unadorned as it was, met with as cordial a reception from the person to whom it was addressed, as if it had been couched in the most elegant terms that delicacy of passion and cultivated genius could supply; nay, I believe, was the more welcome on account of its mercantile plainness; because when an advantageous match is in view, a sensible woman often considers the flowery professions and rapturous exclamations of love as ensnaring ambiguities, or, at best, impertinent preliminaries, that retard the treaty they are designed to promote; whereas Mr. Pickle removed all disagreeable uncertainty, by descending at once to the most interesting particular.
This brief letter, straightforward and unembellished, was received as warmly by the person it was intended for as if it had been written in the most refined language that sensitivity and artistic talent could provide. In fact, I believe it was even more appreciated because of its plainness; when a promising match is on the table, a practical woman often views elaborate declarations and passionate expressions of love as misleading distractions, or, at best, unnecessary delays that hinder the agreement they aim to facilitate. In contrast, Mr. Pickle eliminated all unpleasant uncertainty by getting straight to the most important details.
She had no sooner, as a dutiful child, communicated this billet-doux to her father, than he, as a careful parent, visited Mr. Pickle, and, in presence of Mrs. Grizzle, demanded a formal explanation of his sentiments with regard to his daughter Sally. Mr. Gamaliel, without any ceremony, assured him he had a respect for the young woman, and, with his good leave, would take her for better, for worse. Mr. Appleby, after having expressed his satisfaction that he had fixed his affections in his family, comforted the lover with the assurance of his being agreeable to the young lady; and they forthwith proceeded to the articles of the marriage-settlement, which being discussed and determined, a lawyer was ordered to engross them; the wedding-clothes were bought, and, in short, a day was appointed for the celebration of their nuptials, to which everybody of any fashion in the neighbourhood was invited. Among these, commodore Trunnion and Mr. Hatchway were not forgotten, being the sole companions of the bridegroom, with whom, by this time, they had contracted a sort of intimacy at their nocturnal rendezvous.
She had barely, as a dutiful daughter, shared this love letter with her father when he, as a concerned parent, visited Mr. Pickle and, in front of Mrs. Grizzle, demanded a clear explanation of his feelings toward his daughter Sally. Mr. Gamaliel, without any fuss, assured him that he respected the young woman and, with his blessing, would take her for better or worse. Mr. Appleby, after expressing his pleasure that his affections had settled within the family, comforted the suitor with the assurance that he was agreeable to the young lady; they then moved on to discuss the terms of the marriage settlement. Once they were finalized, a lawyer was called to draft them; the wedding clothes were purchased, and, in short, a date was set for the celebration of their marriage, to which everyone of any standing in the neighborhood was invited. Among those invited, Commodore Trunnion and Mr. Hatchway were not overlooked, being the only companions of the groom, with whom they had by then developed a sort of camaraderie during their late-night meetings.
They had received a previous intimation of what was on the anvil, from the landlord, before Mr. Pickle thought proper to declare himself; in consequence of which, the topic of the one-eyed commander's discourse, at their meeting, for several evenings before, had been the folly and plague of matrimony, on which he held forth with great vehemence of abuse, leveled at the fair sex, whom he represented as devils incarnate, sent from hell to torment mankind; and in particular inveighed against old maids, for whom he seemed to entertain a singular aversion; while his friend Jack confirmed the truth of all his allegations, and gratified his own malignant vein at the same time by clenching every sentence with a sly joke upon the married state, built upon some allusion to a ship or sea-faring life. He compared a woman to a great gun loaded with fire, brimstone, and noise, which, being violently heated, will bounce and fly, and play the devil, if you don't take special care of her breechings. He said she was like a hurricane that never blows from one quarter, but veers about to all points of the compass. He likened her to a painted galley, curiously rigged, with a leak in her hold, which her husband would never be able to stop. He observed that her inclinations were like the Bay of Biscay; for why? because you may heave your deep sea lead long enough without ever reaching the bottom; that he who comes to anchor on a wife may find himself moored in d—d foul ground, and after all, can't for his blood slip his cable; and that, for his own part, though he might make short trips for pastime, he would never embark in woman on the voyage of life, he was afraid of foundering in the first foul weather.
They had gotten an earlier heads-up about what was coming from the landlord, before Mr. Pickle decided to speak up; because of this, during their meetings over the past few evenings, the topic of the one-eyed commander’s rants had been the foolishness and curse of marriage, which he passionately criticized, targeting women as if they were demons from hell sent to torment men. He particularly expressed a strong dislike for old maids, while his friend Jack backed up all his claims and amused himself with sly jokes about married life, making references to ships and the sea. He compared a woman to a powerful cannon loaded with fire, brimstone, and noise, which, if not properly cared for, would explode and cause chaos. He said she was like a hurricane that doesn’t blow consistently, shifting in every direction. He likened her to a beautifully decorated ship with a leak in the hull that her husband would never be able to fix. He noted that a woman's moods were like the Bay of Biscay; you could drop your anchor for a long time without ever reaching the depths. He warned that a man who tries to settle down with a wife might find himself anchored in really bad territory and, no matter what, wouldn’t be able to escape; and for his own part, although he might take short trips for fun, he would never commit to a woman for the journey of life, fearing he’d sink in rough seas.
In all probability, these insinuations made some impression on the mind of Mr. Pickle, who was not very much inclined to run great risks of any kind; but the injunctions and importunities of his sister, who was bent upon the match, overbalanced the opinion of his sea friends, who finding him determined to marry, notwithstanding all the hints of caution they had thrown out, resolved to accept his invitation, and honoured his nuptials with their presence accordingly.
In all likelihood, these hints had some effect on Mr. Pickle, who wasn’t particularly eager to take big risks; however, his sister’s insistence and pressure to go through with the match outweighed the advice from his friends at sea. Despite all their warnings, his friends saw that he was determined to get married, so they decided to accept his invitation and attended the wedding as planned.
CHAPTER IV.
The Behaviour of Mrs. Grizzle at the Wedding, with an Account of the Guests.
The Behavior of Mrs. Grizzle at the Wedding, with a Description of the Guests.
I hope it will not be thought uncharitable, if I advance, by way of conjecture, that Mrs. Grizzle, on this grand occasion, summoned her whole exertion to play off the artillery of her charms on the single gentlemen who were invited to the entertainment; sure I am, she displayed to the best advantage all the engaging qualities she possessed; her affability at dinner was altogether uncommon, her attention to the guests was superfluously hospitable, her tongue was sheathed with a most agreeable and infantine lisp, her address was perfectly obliging, and though conscious of the extraordinary capacity of her month, she would not venture to hazard a laugh, she modelled her lips into an enchanting simper, which played on her countenance all day long; nay, she even profited by that defect in her vision we have already observed, and securely contemplated those features which were most to her liking, while the rest of the company believed her regards were disposed in a quite contrary direction. With what humility of complaisance did she receive the compliments of those who could not help praising the elegance of the banquet; and how piously did she seize that opportunity of commemorating the honours of her sire, by observing that it was no merit in her to understand something of entertainments, as she had occasion to preside at so many, during the mayoralty of her papa!
I hope it won't be seen as unkind if I suggest, as a guess, that Mrs. Grizzle, on this big occasion, pulled out all the stops to show off her charms to the single men invited to the event; I'm sure she showcased all her best qualities. Her friendliness at dinner was truly remarkable, her attention to the guests was overly generous, she spoke with a charming and childlike lisp, her manner was completely accommodating, and even though she was aware of her impressive ability to speak, she didn't dare to laugh. Instead, she formed her lips into a captivating smile that lingered on her face all day. In fact, she even took advantage of that vision issue we previously noted, looking at the features she found most appealing while the rest of the guests thought she was looking elsewhere. With what humble grace did she receive compliments from those who couldn’t help but praise the elegance of the meal! And how proudly did she use that moment to honor her father by noting that it wasn’t really her achievement to know a thing or two about entertaining since she had to oversee so many events during her father’s time as mayor!
Far from discovering the least symptom of pride and exultation when the opulence of her family became the subject of conversation, she assumed a severity of countenance; and, after having moralized on the vanity of riches, declared that those who looked on her as a fortune were very much mistaken; for her father had left her no more than a poor five thousand pounds, which, with what little she had saved of the interest since his death, was all she had to depend on: indeed, if she had placed her chief felicity in wealth, she should not have been so forward in destroying her own expectations, by advising and promoting the event at which they were now so happily assembled; but she hoped she should always have virtue enough to postpone any interested consideration, when it should happen to clash with the happiness of her friends. Finally, such was her modesty and self-denial that she industriously informed those whom it might concern, that she was no less than three years older than the bride; though had she added ten to the reckoning, she would have committed no mistake in point of computation.
Far from showing any signs of pride or joy when her family's wealth came up in conversation, she put on a serious expression. After reflecting on the superficiality of riches, she stated that anyone who viewed her as a financial catch was greatly mistaken; her father had left her only a modest five thousand pounds, which, along with what little she had saved from the interest since his death, was all she could rely on. In fact, if she had placed her happiness in wealth, she wouldn’t have been so quick to undermine her own prospects by supporting and encouraging the event at which they were now so joyfully gathered. However, she hoped she’d always have enough integrity to set aside any self-serving thoughts when they conflicted with the happiness of her friends. Ultimately, her humility and selflessness were such that she diligently informed those who needed to know that she was at least three years older than the bride; although, if she had added ten to that age, she wouldn't have been wrong in her calculations.
To contribute as much as lay in her power to the satisfaction of all present, she in the afternoon regaled them with a tune on the harpsichord, accompanied with her voice, which, though not the most melodious in the world, I dare say, would have been equally at their service could she have vied with Philomel in song; and as the last effort of her complaisance, when dancing was proposed, she was prevailed on, at the request of her new sister, to open the ball in person.
To do everything she could to make everyone happy, she entertained them in the afternoon with a song on the harpsichord, singing along. While her voice might not have been the best in the world, I believe it would have pleased them just as much if she could have competed with Philomel in singing. As a final act of kindness, when someone suggested dancing, her new sister convinced her to personally start the dance.
In a word, Mrs. Grizzle was the principal figure in this festival, and almost eclipsed the bride; who, far from seeming to dispute the pre-eminence, very wisely allowed her to make the best of her talents; contenting herself with the lot to which fortune had already called her and which she imagined would not be the less desirable if her sister-in-law were detached from the family.
In short, Mrs. Grizzle was the main attraction at this festival and almost overshadowed the bride, who, instead of trying to compete, smartly let her shine. She was happy with her place that fate had already set for her and thought it would still be appealing even if her sister-in-law were no longer part of the family.
I believe I need scarce advertise the reader that, during this whole entertainment, the commodore and his lieutenant were quite out of their element; and this, indeed, was the case with the bridegroom himself, who being utterly unacquainted with any sort of polite commerce, found himself under a very disagreeable restraint during the whole scene.
I think I hardly need to tell the reader that, throughout this entire event, the commodore and his lieutenant were completely out of their comfort zone; and this was true for the groom as well, who, being totally unfamiliar with any kind of social interaction, felt very uncomfortable during the whole situation.
Trunnion, who had scarce ever been on shore till he was paid off, and never once in his whole life in the company of any females above the rank of those who herd on the Point at Portsmouth, was more embarrassed about his behaviour than if he had been surrounded at sea by the whole French navy. He had never pronounced the word “madam” since he was born; so that, far from entering into conversation with the ladies, he would not even return the compliment, or give the least note of civility when they drank to his health, and, I verily believe, would rather have suffered suffocation than allowed the simple phrase—“your servant,” to proceed from his mouth. He was altogether as inflexible with respect to the attitudes of his body; for, either through obstinacy or bashfulness, he sat upright without motion, insomuch that he provoked the mirth of a certain wag, who, addressing himself to the lieutenant, asked whether that was the commodore himself, or the wooden lion that used to stand at his gate?—an image, to which, it must be owned, Mr. Trunnion's person bore no faint resemblance.
Trunnion, who had rarely been on land until he was paid off and had never spent a moment in the presence of any women above the level of those who gather at the Point in Portsmouth, felt more awkward about his behavior than if he had been surrounded at sea by the entire French navy. He had never said the word “madam” in his life; so, instead of engaging in conversation with the ladies, he wouldn’t even acknowledge them or respond when they toasted to his health. Honestly, I believe he would have preferred to suffocate than to let the simple phrase—“your servant”—escape his lips. He was equally rigid in his posture, as either a result of stubbornness or shyness; he sat upright without moving, which made a certain joker tease the lieutenant by asking whether that was the commodore himself or the wooden lion that used to stand at his gate—a likeness that, to be fair, Mr. Trunnion did resemble quite a bit.
Mr. Hatchway, who was not quite so unpolished as the commodore, and had certain notions that seemed to approach the ideas of common life, made a less uncouth appearance; but then he was a wit, and though of a very peculiar genius, partook largely of that disposition which is common to all wits, who never enjoy themselves except when their talents meet with those marks of distinction and veneration, which, in their own opinion, they deserve.
Mr. Hatchway, who wasn't as rough around the edges as the commodore and had some ideas that were more in line with everyday life, came across as less awkward. However, he was a clever guy, and although he had a very unique style, he shared a common trait with all witty people: they only feel content when their talents receive the recognition and admiration they believe they deserve.
These circumstances being premised, it is not to be wondered at, if this triumvirate made no objections to the proposal, when some of the graver personages of the company made a motion for adjourning into another apartment, where they might enjoy their pipes and bottles, while the young folks indulged themselves in the continuance of their own favourite diversion. Thus rescued, as it were, from a state of annihilation, the first use the two lads of the castle made of their existence, was to ply the bridegroom so hard with bumpers, that in less than an hour he made divers efforts to sing, and soon after was carried to bed, deprived of all manner of sensation, to the utter disappointment of the bridemen and maids, who, by this accident, were prevented from throwing the stocking, and performing certain other ceremonies practised on such occasions. As for the bride, she bore this misfortune with great good humour, and indeed, on all occasions, behaved like a discreet woman, perfectly well acquainted with the nature of her own situation.
Given these circumstances, it's not surprising that this trio had no objections when some of the more serious members of the group suggested moving to another room, where they could enjoy their drinks and relax, while the younger crowd continued with their favorite activities. Saved, in a way, from total boredom, the two young men in the castle immediately set to work making the groom drink so much that within an hour, he struggled to sing and soon after was taken to bed, completely out of it, much to the disappointment of the groomsmen and bridesmaids, who were prevented from throwing the stocking and carrying out other traditional rituals. As for the bride, she took this setback in stride and, in fact, always acted like a sensible woman, fully aware of her own circumstances.
CHAPTER V.
Mrs. Pickle assumes the Reins of Government in her own Family—Her Sister-in-law undertakes an Enterprise of great Moment, but is for some time diverted from her Purpose by a very interesting Consideration.
Mrs. Pickle takes control of her family’s affairs—Her sister-in-law embarks on a significant venture, but for a while, she is sidetracked by a very intriguing thought.
Whatever deference, not to say submission, she had paid to Mrs. Grizzle before she nearly allied to her family, she no sooner became Mrs. Pickle, than she thought it encumbent on her to act up to the dignity of the character; and, the very day after the marriage, ventured to dispute with her sister-in-law on the subject of her own pedigree, which she affirmed to be more honourable in all respects than that of her husband; observing that several younger brothers of her house had arrived at the station of lord-mayor of London, which was the highest pitch of greatness that any of Mr. Pickle's predecessors had ever attained.
Whatever respect, or rather submission, she had shown to Mrs. Grizzle before she nearly joined the family, as soon as she became Mrs. Pickle, she felt it was her duty to uphold the dignity of that role. The very day after the wedding, she dared to argue with her sister-in-law about her own family background, claiming it to be more honorable in every way than her husband's. She pointed out that several younger brothers from her family had reached the position of Lord Mayor of London, which was the greatest achievement any of Mr. Pickle's ancestors had ever accomplished.
This presumption was like a thunderbolt to Mrs. Grizzle, who began to perceive that she had not succeeded quite so well as she imagined, in selecting for her brother a gentle and obedient yoke-fellow, who would always treat her with that profound respect which she thought due to her superior genius, and be entirely regulated by her advice and direction: however, she still continued to manage the reins of government in the house, reprehending the servants as usual; an office she performed with great capacity, and in which she seemed to take singular delight, until Mrs. Pickle, on pretence of consulting her ease, told her one day she would take that trouble on herself, and for the future assume the management of her own family. Nothing could be more mortifying to Mrs. Grizzle than such a declaration; to which, after a considerable pause, and strange distortion of look, she replied: “I shall never refuse or repine at any trouble that may conduce to my brother's advantage.”—“Dear madam,” answered the sister, “I am infinitely obliged for your kind concern for Mr. Pickle's interest, which I consider as my own, but I cannot bear to see you a sufferer by your friendship; and, therefore, insist on exempting you from the fatigue you have borne so long.”
This assumption hit Mrs. Grizzle like a bolt from the blue, making her realize that she hadn't done as well as she thought in picking a gentle and obedient partner for her brother—someone who would treat her with the respect she believed her superior intellect deserved and follow her advice completely. Still, she continued to run things at home, scolding the servants as usual; a role she handled effectively and seemed to enjoy immensely, until Mrs. Pickle, under the guise of wanting to relax, told her one day that she would take that burden upon herself and manage her own household from now on. Nothing could be more humiliating for Mrs. Grizzle than such a statement. After a long pause and a strange expression, she replied, “I will never refuse or complain about any trouble that benefits my brother.” “Dear madam,” her sister responded, “I truly appreciate your concern for Mr. Pickle's well-being, which I also consider my own, but I can’t stand to see you suffer because of your kindness; so, I insist on relieving you from the effort you've put in for so long.”
In vain did the other protest that she took pleasure in the task: Mrs. Pickle ascribed the assurance to her excess of complaisance; and expressed such tenderness of zeal for her dear sister's health and tranquility, that the reluctant maiden found herself obliged to resign her authority, without enjoying the least pretext for complaining of her being deposed.
In vain did the others protest that she enjoyed the task: Mrs. Pickle thought her reassurances were just a sign of her extreme willingness to please; and she showed such heartfelt concern for her dear sister's health and happiness that the unwilling young woman felt she had no choice but to give up her authority, without having any real reason to complain about being pushed aside.
This disgrace was attended by a fit of peevish devotion that lasted three or four weeks; during which period she had the additional chagrin of seeing the young lady gain an absolute ascendency over the mind of her brother, who was persuaded to set up a gay equipage, and improve his housekeeping, by an augmentation in his expense, to the amount of a thousand a year at least: though his alteration in the economy of his household effected no change in his own disposition, or manner of life; for as soon as the painful ceremony of receiving and returning visits was performed, he had recourse to the company of his sea friends, with whom he spent the best part of his time. But if he was satisfied with his condition, the case was otherwise with Mrs. Grizzle, who, finding her importance in the family greatly diminished, her attractions neglected by all the male sex in the neighbourhood, and the withering hand of time hang threatening over her head, began to feel the horror of eternal virginity, and, in a sort of desperation, resolved at any rate to rescue herself from that reproachful and uncomfortable situation.
This disgrace was accompanied by a period of cranky devotion that lasted about three or four weeks; during this time, she had the extra frustration of watching the young lady gain complete influence over her brother's mind, convincing him to get a flashy carriage and upgrade his household by increasing his spending by at least a thousand a year. However, his change in household management did not affect his own attitude or lifestyle; as soon as the awkward process of social visits was over, he went back to hanging out with his sea friends, spending most of his time with them. But while he was content with his situation, Mrs. Grizzle was not. She found her importance in the family significantly diminished, her appeal ignored by all the men in the neighborhood, and the relentless passage of time looming over her, which made her increasingly anxious about remaining single. In a sort of desperation, she decided that she would do whatever it took to escape that shameful and uncomfortable situation.
Thus determined, she formed a plan, the execution of which to a spirit less enterprising and sufficient than hers, would have appeared altogether impracticable: this was no other than to make a conquest of the commodore's heart, which the reader will easily believe was not very susceptible of tender impressions; but, on the contrary, fortified with insensibility and prejudice against the charms of the whole sex, and particularly prepossessed to the prejudice of that class distinguished by the appellation of old maids, in which Mrs. Grizzle was by this time unhappily ranked. She nevertheless took the field, and having invested this seemingly impregnable fortress, began to break ground one day, when Trunnion dined at her brother's, by springing certain ensnaring commendations on the honesty and sincerity of sea-faring people, paying a particular attention to his plate, and affecting a simper of approbation at everything which he said, which by any means she could construe into a joke, or with modesty be supposed to hear: nay, even when he left decency on the left hand, which was often the case, she ventured to reprimand his freedom of speech with a grin, saying, “Sure you gentlemen belonging to the sea have such an odd way with you.” But all this complacency was so ineffectual, that, far from suspecting the true cause of it, the commodore, that very evening, at the club, in presence of her brother, with whom by this time he could take any manner of freedom, did not scruple to d— her for a squinting, block-faced, chattering p— kitchen; and immediately after drank “Despair to all old maids.” The toast Mr. Pickle pledged without the least hesitation, and next day intimated to his sister, who bore the indignity with surprising resignation, and did not therefore desist from her scheme, unpromising as it seemed to be, until her attention was called off, and engaged in another care, which for some time interrupted the progress of this design.
Determined, she came up with a plan that would have seemed completely impractical to anyone less bold and capable than her: she intended to win over the commodore's heart, which many would understand was not easily swayed by romantic feelings. On the contrary, he was hardened by indifference and had a strong bias against women in general, especially towards those labeled as old maids, a category to which Mrs. Grizzle unfortunately belonged by this point. Nevertheless, she pressed on and, having laid siege to this seemingly impenetrable fortress, began her approach one day while Trunnion was dining at her brother's house. She started by giving flattering praise to the honesty and sincerity of sailors, paying special attention to his plate, and putting on a smile of approval at everything he said that she could twist into a joke or modestly claim to appreciate; even when he spoke inappropriately, which happened often, she would lightly scold him with a grin, saying, “You sea gentlemen have such a strange way about you.” But all her efforts proved fruitless; far from recognizing her true intentions, the commodore that very evening at the club, in front of her brother, with whom he had grown comfortable, didn’t hesitate to insult her by calling her a squinting, block-faced, chatterbox of a old maid, and then raised a toast to “Despair to all old maids.” Mr. Pickle raised his glass without hesitation, and the next day he suggested to his sister, who accepted the insult with surprising calmness, that she should not abandon her plan, despite how hopeless it seemed, until her focus shifted to another concern that temporarily interrupted her progress.
Her sister had not been married many months, when she exhibited evident symptoms of pregnancy, to the general satisfaction of all concerned, and the inexpressible joy of Mrs. Grizzle, who, as we have already hinted, was more interested in the preservation of the family name than in any other consideration whatever. She therefore no sooner discovered appearances to justify and confirm her hopes, than, postponing her own purpose, and laying aside that pique and resentment she had conceived from the behaviour of Mrs. Pickle, when she superseded her authority; or perhaps, considering her in no other light than that of the vehicle which contained, and was destined to convey, her brother's heir to light, she determined to exert her uttermost in nursing, tending, and cherishing her during the term of her important charge. With this view she purchased Culpepper's Midwifery, which with that sagacious performance dignified with Aristotle's name, she studied with indefatigable care; and diligently perused the Complete Housewife, together with Quincy's Dispensatory, culling every jelly, marmalade, and conserve which these authors recommend as either salutary or toothsome, for the benefit and comfort of her sister-in-law, during her gestation. She restricted her from eating roots, pot-herbs, fruit, and all sorts of vegetables; and one day, when Mrs. Pickle had plucked a peach with her own hand, and was in the very act of putting it between her teeth, Mrs. Grizzle perceived the rash attempt, and running up to her, fell on her knees in the garden, entreating her, with tears in her eyes, to desist such a pernicious appetite. Her request was no sooner complied with, than recollecting, that if her sister's longing was balked, the child might be affected with some disagreeable mark or deplorable disease, she begged as earnestly that she would swallow the fruit, and in the mean time ran for some cordial water of her own composing, which she forced on her sister, as an antidote to the poison she had received.
Her sister hadn’t been married for long when she began to show clear signs of pregnancy, much to the delight of everyone involved, especially Mrs. Grizzle. As we’ve mentioned before, Mrs. Grizzle was more focused on preserving the family name than anything else. So, as soon as she noticed signs that confirmed her hopes, she set aside her own plans and any resentment she felt towards Mrs. Pickle for taking over her authority. Or maybe she just saw Mrs. Pickle as the means to bring her brother's heir into the world. She decided to fully dedicate herself to caring for and supporting her during this significant time. To do this, she bought Culpepper's Midwifery, along with Aristotle’s notable work, which she studied tirelessly. She also read through the Complete Housewife and Quincy's Dispensatory, picking out every jelly, marmalade, and conserve recommended for the health and comfort of her sister-in-law during her pregnancy. She restricted her diet to avoid roots, greens, fruits, and all kinds of vegetables. One day, when Mrs. Pickle had picked a peach herself and was about to bite into it, Mrs. Grizzle noticed the risky move, rushed over, knelt in the garden, and begged her, tearfully, to stop such a harmful craving. As soon as Mrs. Pickle complied, Mrs. Grizzle remembered that if her sister's cravings were denied, the baby might be born with some undesirable mark or illness. She then pleaded with her to eat the fruit instead, and in the meantime, she ran to get some homemade cordial water, which she insisted her sister drink as an antidote to the “poison” she had already ingested.
This excessive zeal and tenderness did not fail to be very troublesome to Mrs. Pickle, who, having resolved divers plans for the recovery of her own ease, at length determined to engage Mrs. Grizzle in such employment as would interrupt that close attendance, which she found so teasing and disagreeable. Neither did she wait long for an opportunity of putting her resolution in practice. The very next day a gentleman happening to dine with Mr. Pickle, unfortunately mentioned a pine-apple, part of which he had eaten a week before at the house of a nobleman, who lived in another part of the country, at the distance of a hundred miles at least.
This over-the-top enthusiasm and kindness really annoyed Mrs. Pickle, who, determined to find some peace for herself, decided to engage Mrs. Grizzle in activities that would interrupt the constant attention she found so irritating and unpleasant. She didn’t have to wait long to act on her decision. The very next day, a gentleman dining with Mr. Pickle unfortunately brought up a pineapple, part of which he had eaten a week earlier at a nobleman's house located at least a hundred miles away.
The name of this fatal fruit was no sooner pronounced, than Mrs. Grizzle, who incessantly watched her sister's looks, took the alarm, because she thought they gave certain indications of curiosity and desire; and after having observed that she herself could never eat pine-apples, which were altogether unnatural productions, extorted by the force of artificial fire out of filthy manure, asked, with a faltering voice, if Mrs. Pickle was not of her way of thinking? This young lady, who wanted neither slyness nor penetration, at once divined her meaning, and replied, with seeming unconcern, that for her own part she should never repine if there was no pine-apple in the universe, provided she could indulge herself with the fruits of her own country.
The name of this deadly fruit was barely spoken when Mrs. Grizzle, who constantly watched her sister's expressions, got worried because she thought they showed signs of curiosity and craving. Noticing that she could never eat pineapples, which she considered strange creations born from artificial heat and disgusting waste, she asked, in a shaky voice, if Mrs. Pickle felt the same way. This young woman, who was neither sneaky nor oblivious, immediately understood her meaning and replied casually that she would never complain if there were no pineapples in the world, as long as she could enjoy the fruits from her own country.
This answer was calculated for the benefit of the stranger, who would certainly have suffered for his imprudence by the resentment of Mrs. Grizzle, had her sister expressed the least relish for the fruit in question. It had the desired effect, and re-established the peace of the company, which was not a little endangered by the gentleman's want of consideration. Next morning, however, after breakfast, the pregnant lady, in pursuance of her plan, yawned, as it were by accident, full in the face of her maiden sister, who being infinitely disturbed by this convulsion, affirmed it was a symptom of longing, and insisted upon knowing the object in desire; when Mrs. Pickle affecting a smile told her she had eaten a most delicious pine-apple in her sleep. This declaration was attended with an immediate scream, uttered by Mrs. Grizzle, who instantly perceiving her sister surprised at the exclamation, clasped her in her arms, and assured her, with a sort of hysterical laugh, that she could not help screaming with joy, because she had it in her power to gratify her dear sister's wish; a lady in the neighbourhood having promised to send her, as a present, a couple of delicate pine-apples, which she would on that very day go in quest of.
This response was made for the benefit of the stranger, who would definitely have faced consequences for his carelessness due to Mrs. Grizzle's irritation, had her sister shown even the slightest interest in the fruit in question. It worked as intended and restored peace among the group, which was seriously jeopardized by the gentleman's lack of thoughtfulness. The next morning, though, after breakfast, the pregnant lady, following her plan, yawned seemingly on purpose right in front of her unmarried sister, who was extremely unsettled by this action and claimed it was a sign of cravings, insisting on knowing what she desired. Mrs. Pickle, trying to smile, told her she had dreamt of eating a delicious pineapple. This statement was met with an immediate scream from Mrs. Grizzle, who, noticing her sister's surprise at the outburst, hugged her tightly and, with a sort of hysterical laugh, assured her that she couldn’t help but scream with joy because she was able to fulfill her dear sister's wish; a lady in the neighborhood had promised to send her a couple of fine pineapples as a gift, which she would go fetch that very day.
Mrs. Pickle would by no means consent to this proposal, on pretence of sparing the other unnecessary fatigue; and assured her, that if she had any desire to eat a pine-apple, it was so faint, that the disappointment could produce no bad consequence. But this assurance was conveyed in a manner, which she knew very well how to adopt, that, instead of dissuading, rather stimulated Mrs. Grizzle to set out immediately, not on a visit to that lady, whose promise she herself had feigned with a view of consulting her sister's tranquility, but on a random Search through the whole country for this unlucky fruit, which was like to produce so much vexation and prejudice to her and her father's house.
Mrs. Pickle absolutely refused to agree to this suggestion, claiming it would save the other from unnecessary exhaustion; and she assured her that if she had any desire to eat a pineapple, it was so weak that the disappointment wouldn't lead to any negative outcome. However, this reassurance was delivered in a way that she knew would actually motivate Mrs. Grizzle to set off immediately, not to visit that lady, whose promise she had pretended for the sake of keeping her sister calm, but to embark on a wild quest across the whole country for this troublesome fruit, which was likely to cause so much frustration and trouble for her and her father's household.
During three whole days and nights did she, attended by a valet, ride from place to place without success, unmindful of her health, and careless of her reputation, that began to suffer from the nature of her inquiry, which was pursued with such peculiar eagerness and distraction, that everybody with whom she conversed, looked upon her as an unhappy person, whose intellects were not a little disordered.
For three whole days and nights, she, accompanied by a servant, rode from place to place without success, ignoring her health and careless about her reputation, which started to suffer due to the nature of her inquiry. Her relentless eagerness and distraction made everyone she spoke to see her as an unfortunate person whose mind was clearly a bit disturbed.
Baffled in all her researches within the country, she at length decided to visit that very nobleman at whose house the officious stranger had been (for her) so unfortunately regaled, and actually arrived, in a post-chaise, at the place of his habitation, when she introduced her business as an affair on which the happiness of a whole family depended. By virtue of a present to his lordship's gardener, she procured the Hesperian fruit, with which she returned in triumph.
Baffled in all her searches within the country, she finally decided to visit the nobleman whose house the meddlesome stranger had unfortunately entertained her, and she arrived, in a carriage, at his home. She explained her business as something that affected the happiness of an entire family. With a gift for his lordship's gardener, she managed to get the Hesperian fruit, which she brought back triumphantly.
CHAPTER VI.
Mrs. Grizzle is indefatigable in gratifying her Sister's Longings—Peregrine is born, and managed contrary to the Directions and Remonstrances of his Aunt, who is disgusted upon that account, and resumes the Plan which she had before rejected.
Mrs. Grizzle is tireless in fulfilling her sister's desires—Peregrine is born and raised against the advice and objections of his aunt, who is irritated by this and goes back to the plan she had previously dismissed.
The success of this device would have encouraged Mrs. Pickle to practise more of the same sort upon her sister-in-law, had she not been deterred by a violent fever which seized her zealous ally, in consequence of the fatigue and uneasiness she had undergone; which, while it lasted, as effectually conduced to her repose, as any other stratagem she could invent. But Mrs. Grizzle's health was no sooner restored, than the other, being as much incommoded as ever, was obliged, in her own defence, to have recourse to some other contrivance; and managed her artifices in such a manner, as leaves it at this day a doubt whether she was really so whimsical and capriccios in her appetites as she herself pretended to be; for her longings were not restricted to the demands of the palate and stomach, but also affected all the other organs of sense, and even invaded her imagination, which at this period seemed to be strangely diseased.
The success of this device would have motivated Mrs. Pickle to try more of the same on her sister-in-law, if she hadn’t been held back by a severe fever that struck her eager ally due to the exhaustion and discomfort she had experienced; this, while it lasted, helped her rest as effectively as any other scheme she could come up with. But as soon as Mrs. Grizzle's health was back, the other, still as bothered as ever, was forced to come up with some alternative strategy for her own defense; and she maneuvered her tricks in such a way that it remains uncertain to this day whether she was genuinely as quirky and unpredictable in her cravings as she claimed to be; for her desires were not limited to what her palate and stomach needed, but also involved all her other senses and even took hold of her imagination, which at this point seemed strangely troubled.
One time she longed to pinch her husband's ear; and it was with infinite difficulty that his sister could prevail upon him to undergo the operation. Yet this task was easy, in comparison with another she undertook for the gratification of Mrs. Pickle's unaccountable desire; which was no other than to persuade the commodore to submit his chin to the mercy of the big-bellied lady, who ardently wished for an opportunity of plucking three black hairs from his beard. When this proposal was first communicated to Mr. Trunnion by the husband, his answer was nothing but a dreadful effusion of oaths, accompanied with such a stare, and delivered in such a tone of voice, as terrified the poor beseecher into immediate silence; so that Mrs. Grizzle was fain to take the whole enterprise upon herself, and next day went to the garrison accordingly, where, having obtained entrance by means of the lieutenant, who, while his commander was asleep, ordered her to be admitted for the joke's sake, she waited patiently till he turned out, and then accosted him in the yard, where he used to perform his morning walk. He was thunderstruck at the appearance of a woman in a place he had hitherto kept sacred from the whole sex, and immediately began to utter an apostrophe to Tom Pipes, whose turn it was then to watch; when Mrs. Grizzle, falling on her knees before him, conjured him, with many pathetic supplications, to hear and grant her request, which was no sooner signified, than he bellowed in such an outrageous manner that the whole court re-echoed the opprobrious term b—, and the word damnation, which he repeated with surprising volubility, without any sort of propriety or connection; and retreated into his penetralia, leaving the baffled devotee in the humble posture she had so unsuccessfully chosen to melt his obdurate heart.
One time she really wanted to pinch her husband's ear, and it took a lot of effort for his sister to convince him to go along with it. But that task was easy compared to another one she took on to satisfy Mrs. Pickle's strange desire, which was to persuade the commodore to let the big-bellied lady pluck three black hairs from his beard. When this idea was first brought up to Mr. Trunnion by his husband, he responded with a horrible outburst of curses, accompanied by a look and tone that scared the poor requester into silence. So, Mrs. Grizzle had to take the whole thing on herself and went to the garrison the next day, where she gained entry through the lieutenant, who, while his commander was sleeping, let her in just for laughs. She waited patiently until he came out and then approached him in the yard where he liked to take his morning walk. He was shocked to see a woman in a place he had always kept off-limits to women, and he immediately began shouting at Tom Pipes, who was on duty. Mrs. Grizzle knelt before him and begged, imploring him to hear her request. As soon as she made her request known, he yelled so loudly that the entire courtyard echoed with the vulgar term b— and the word damnation, which he repeated in a chaotic manner without any sense or order, before retreating into his quarters, leaving the frustrated supplicant still kneeling in a failed attempt to melt his stubborn heart.
Mortifying as this repulse must have been to a lady of her stately disposition, she did not relinquish her aim, but endeavoured to interest the commodore's counsellors and adherents in her cause. With this view she solicited the interest of Mr. Hatchway, who, being highly pleased with a circumstance so productive of mirth and diversion, readily entered into her measures, and promised to employ his whole influence for her satisfaction; and as for the boatswain's mate, he was rendered propitious by the present of a guinea, which she slipped into his hand. In short, Mrs. Grizzle was continually engaged in this negotiation for the space of ten days, during which, the commodore was so incessantly pestered with her remonstrances, and the admonitions of his associates, that he swore his people had a design upon his life, which becoming a burden to him, he at last complied, and was conducted to the scene like a victim to the altar, or rather like a reluctant bear, when he is led to the stake amidst the shouts and cries of butchers and their dogs. After all, this victory was not quite so decisive as the conquerors imagined; for the patient being set, and the performer prepared with a pair of pincers, a small difficulty occurred: she could not for some time discern one black hair on the whole superficies of Mr. Trunnion's face, when Mrs. Grizzle, very much alarmed and disconcerted, had recourse to a magnifying-glass that stood upon her toilet; and, after a most accurate examination, discovered a fibre of a dusky hue, to which the instrument being applied, Mrs. Pickle pulled it up by the roots, to the no small discomposure of the owner, who, feeling the smart much more severe than he had expected, started up, and swore he would not part with another hair to save them all from damnation.
As embarrassing as this rejection must have been for a woman of her dignified nature, she didn’t give up on her goal. Instead, she tried to get the commodore’s advisors and supporters interested in her cause. To that end, she sought the help of Mr. Hatchway, who, finding the situation quite amusing and entertaining, eagerly joined her efforts and promised to use all his influence for her benefit. The boatswain's mate was persuaded with a guinea that she slipped into his hand. In short, Mrs. Grizzle was engaged in this negotiation for ten days, during which the commodore was so persistently hassled by her complaints and the urgings of his colleagues that he claimed his crew was plotting against his life. Eventually, overwhelmed by it all, he gave in and was led to the scene like a victim to the altar, or rather like a reluctant bear dragged to the stake amidst the cheers and howls of butchers and their dogs. However, this so-called victory wasn’t as decisive as the winners thought; after preparing the patient and getting ready with a pair of pincers, they hit a small snag: she couldn’t find a single black hair on Mr. Trunnion’s entire face. Alarmed and flustered, Mrs. Grizzle resorted to a magnifying glass from her vanity; after a careful inspection, she discovered a dark fiber. Using the tool, Mrs. Pickle pulled it out by the roots, much to the discomfort of the owner, who felt the sting more intensely than he had anticipated. He jumped up and swore he wouldn’t give up another hair to save anyone from damnation.
Mr. Hatchway exhorted him to patience and resignation; Mrs. Grizzle repeated her entreaties with great humility; but finding him deaf to all her prayers, and absolutely bent upon leaving the house, she clasped his knees, and begged for the love of God that he would have compassion upon a distressed family, and endure a little more for the sake of the poor infant, who would otherwise be born with a gray beard upon its chin. Far from being melted, he was rather exasperated by this reflection; to which he replied with great indignation, “D— you for a yaw-sighted b—! I'll be hanged, long enough before he has any beard at all:” so saying, he disengaged himself from her embraces, flung out at the door, and halted homewards with such surprising speed, that the lieutenant could not overtake him until he had arrived at his own gate; and Mrs. Grizzle was so much affected with his escape, that her sister, in pure compassion, desired she would not afflict herself, protesting that her own wish was already gratified, for she had plucked three hairs at once, having from the beginning been dubious of the commodore's patience.
Mr. Hatchway urged him to be patient and accept the situation; Mrs. Grizzle repeated her pleas with great humility. But when she found him unresponsive to all her requests and determined to leave the house, she grabbed his knees and begged him, for the love of God, to have compassion on a struggling family and to hold on just a little longer for the sake of the poor baby, who would otherwise be born with a gray beard on its chin. Instead of being softened by her words, he became more irritated by this thought and replied angrily, “D-- you for a near-sighted b--! I’ll be hanged long before he has any beard at all.” With that, he freed himself from her grasp, burst out the door, and hurried home at such a surprising speed that the lieutenant couldn't catch up to him until he reached his own gate. Mrs. Grizzle was so shaken by his departure that her sister, out of pure pity, urged her not to distress herself, claiming that her own wish was already fulfilled since she had pulled out three hairs at once, having doubted the commodore’s patience from the start.
But the labours of this assiduous kinswoman did not end with the achievement of this adventure: her eloquence or industry was employed without ceasing in the performance of other tasks imposed by the ingenious craft of her sister-in-law, who at another time conceived an insuppressible affection for a fricassee of frogs, which should be the genuine natives of France; so that there was a necessity for despatching a messenger on purpose to that kingdom; but as she could not depend upon the integrity of any common servant, Mrs. Grizzle undertook that province, and actually set sail in a cutter for Boulogne, from whence she returned in eight-and-forty hours with a tub full of those live animals, which being dressed according to art, her sister did not taste them, on pretence that her fit of longing was past: but then her inclinations took a different turn, and fixed themselves upon a curious implement belonging to a lady of quality in the neighbourhood, which was reported to be a great curiosity: this was no other than a porcelain chamber-pot of admirable workmanship, contrived by the honourable owner, who kept it for her own private use, and cherished it as a utensil of inestimable value.
But the hard work of this dedicated relative didn’t stop with the completion of this task: her skill and effort were constantly put to use for other duties assigned by her sister-in-law, who at another time developed an uncontrollable craving for a frog fricassee made with authentic French frogs. This meant sending a messenger specifically to France; however, since she couldn't rely on the honesty of a regular servant, Mrs. Grizzle took on the task herself and actually set sail in a small boat for Boulogne. She returned in just forty-eight hours with a tub full of live frogs. Although they were prepared by a skilled cook, her sister didn't try them, claiming that her craving had passed. Instead, her interests shifted to a unique item owned by a noblewoman in the area, which was said to be a great curiosity: a beautifully crafted porcelain chamber pot, cherished by its owner as an invaluable personal possession.
Mrs. Grizzle shuddered at the first hint, she received of her sister's desire to possess this piece of furniture; because she knew it was not to be purchased; and the lady's character, which was none of the most amiable in point of humanity and condescension, forbad all hopes of borrowing it for a season: she therefore attempted to reason down this capricious appetite, as an extravagance of imagination which ought to be combated and repressed; and Mrs. Pickle, to all appearance was convinced and satisfied by her arguments and advice; but, nevertheless, could make use of no other convenience, and was threatened with a very dangerous suppression. Roused at the peril in which she supposed her to be, Mrs. Grizzle flew to the lady's house, and, having obtained a private audience, disclosed the melancholy situation of her sister, and implored the benevolence of her ladyship, who, contrary to expectation, received her very graciously, and consented to indulge Mrs. Pickle's longing. Mr. Pickle began to be out of humour at the expense to which he was exposed by the caprice of his wife, who was herself alarmed at this last accident, and for the future kept her fancy within bounds; insomuch, that without being subject to any more extraordinary trouble, Mrs. Grizzle reaped the long-wished fruits of her dearest expectation in the birth of a fine boy, whom her sister in a few months brought into the world.
Mrs. Grizzle shuddered at the first sign of her sister's desire to have that piece of furniture because she knew it was not for sale, and the lady's character, which wasn't the most pleasant in terms of kindness and generosity, ruled out any hope of borrowing it for a while. She tried to talk her out of this sudden urge, considering it an extravagant whim that should be challenged and suppressed. Mrs. Pickle, to all appearances, seemed convinced and satisfied by her arguments and advice; however, she had no other option and was at risk of a serious emotional breakdown. Alarmed by what she thought was her sister’s danger, Mrs. Grizzle rushed to the lady's house, and after getting a private audience, shared her sister's troubling situation and begged for her ladyship's kindness. Surprisingly, she received a warm welcome and agreed to indulge Mrs. Pickle’s wish. Mr. Pickle grew frustrated with the costs incurred by his wife's whims, who herself became worried about this recent incident and, moving forward, kept her desires in check. Consequently, without facing any more unusual troubles, Mrs. Grizzle finally enjoyed the long-awaited joy of having a beautiful baby boy, whom her sister brought into the world a few months later.
I shall omit the description of the rejoicings, which were infinite on this important occasion, and only observe that Mrs. Pickle's mother and aunt stood godmothers, and the commodore assisted at the ceremony as godfather to the child, who was christened by the name of Peregrine, in compliment to the memory of a deceased uncle. While the mother confined to her bed, and incapable of maintaining her own authority, Mrs. Grizzle took charge of the infant baby by a double claim, and superintended, with surprising vigilance, the nurse and midwife in all the particulars of their respective offices, which were performed by her express direction. But no sooner was Mrs. Pickle in a condition to reassume the management of her own affairs, when she thought proper to alter certain regulations concerning the child, which had obtained in consequence of her sister's orders, directing, among other innovations, that the bandages with which the infant had been so neatly rolled up, like an Egyptian mummy, should be loosened and laid aside, in order to rid nature of all restraint, and give the blood free scope to circulate; and, with her own hands she plunged him headlong every morning into a tub full of cold water. This operation seemed so barbarous to the tender-hearted Mrs. Grizzle, that she not only opposed it with all her eloquence, shedding abundance of tears over the sacrifice when it was made; and took horse immediately, and departed for the habitation of an eminent country physician, whom she consulted in these words: “Pray, doctor, is it not both dangerous and cruel to be the means of letting a poor tender infant perish by sousing it in water as cold as ice?”—“Yes,” replied the doctor, “downright murder, I affirm.”—“I see you are a person of great learning and sagacity,” said the other; “and I must beg you will be so good as to signify your opinion in your own handwriting.” The doctor immediately complied with her request, and expressed himself upon a slip of paper to this purpose:—
I’ll skip the details about the celebrations, which were endless for this big event, and just mention that Mrs. Pickle's mother and aunt were the godmothers, and the commodore stood in as godfather for the child, who was named Peregrine in honor of a deceased uncle. While the mother was stuck in bed and unable to assert her authority, Mrs. Grizzle took care of the baby for two reasons and closely supervised the nurse and midwife in all their duties, directing them specifically. However, as soon as Mrs. Pickle was well enough to take charge of her own affairs, she decided to change some rules about the child that had been established by her sister's orders. Among other changes, she directed that the bandages wrapping the baby up tight like an Egyptian mummy should be loosened and removed to allow natural movement and let the blood circulate freely; and she personally immersed him in a tub of cold water every morning. This routine seemed so harsh to the kind-hearted Mrs. Grizzle that she not only protested vigorously, shedding lots of tears over the purported harm of it, but also immediately rode off to consult a well-respected country doctor, asking him, “Doctor, isn’t it both dangerous and cruel to let a poor, delicate infant suffer by plunging it into water as cold as ice?”—“Yes,” the doctor replied, “that's outright murder, I’d say.” —“I see you are very knowledgeable and insightful,” she said. “I kindly ask you to put your opinion in writing.” The doctor readily agreed and wrote down his thoughts on a piece of paper, stating:—
“These are to certify whom it may concern, that I firmly
believe, and it is my unalterable opinion, that who soever
letteth an infant perish, by sousing it in cold water, even
though the said water should not be so cold as ice, is in
effect guilty of the murder of the said infant, as witness
my hand,
“Comfit Colocynth.”
“This is to certify to whom it may concern that I firmly believe, and it is my unwavering opinion, that anyone who allows an infant to perish by submerging it in cold water, even if the water isn't as cold as ice, is effectively guilty of murdering that infant, as witness my hand,
“Comfit Colocynth.”Having obtained this certificate, for which the physician was handsomely acknowledged, she returned, exalting, and hoping, with such authority, to overthrow all opposition. Accordingly, next morning, when her nephew was about to undergo his diurnal baptism, she produced the commission, whereby she conceived herself empowered to overrule such inhuman proceedings, but she was disappointed in her expectation, confident as it was; not that Mrs. Pickle pretended to differ in opinion from Dr. Colocynth, “for whose character and sentiments,” said she, “I have such veneration, that I shall carefully observe the caution implied in this very certificate, by which, far from condemning my method of practice, he only asserts that killing is murder; an asseveration, the truth of which, it is to be hoped, I shall never dispute.”
Having gotten this certificate, for which the doctor was nicely recognized, she returned, uplifted and hopeful, believing she had the authority to overcome any opposition. So, the next morning, when her nephew was about to have his daily baptism, she brought out the commission that she thought empowered her to stop such cruel actions, but she was let down by her expectations, as confident as they were; not that Mrs. Pickle claimed to disagree with Dr. Colocynth, “for whom I have such respect,” she said, “that I will carefully follow the caution implied in this very certificate, which, far from condemning my way of practicing, merely states that killing is murder; a statement, the truth of which, I hope, I will never contest.”
Mrs. Grizzle, who, sooth to say, had rather too superficially considered the clause by which she thought herself authorized, perused the paper with more accuracy, and was confounded at her own want of penetration. Yet, though she was confuted, she was by no means convinced that her objections to the cold bath were unreasonable; on the contrary, after having bestowed sundry opprobrious epithets on the physician, for his want of knowledge and candour, she protested in the most earnest and solemn manner the pernicious practice of dipping the child—a piece of cruelty which, with God's assistance, she should never suffer to be inflicted on her own issue; and washing her hands of the melancholy consequence that would certainly ensue, shut herself up in her closet to indulge her sorrow and vexation. She was deceived, however, in her prognostic. The boy, instead of declining in point of health, seemed to acquire fresh vigour from every plunge, as if he had been resolved to discredit the wisdom and foresight of his aunt, who in all probability could never forgive him for this want of reverence and respect. This conjecture is founded upon her behaviour to him in the sequel of his infancy, during which she was known to torture him more than once, when she had opportunities of thrusting pins into his flesh, without any danger of being detected. In short, her affections were in a little time altogether alienated from this hope of her family, whom she abandoned to the conduct of his mother, whose province it undoubtedly was to manage the nurture of her own child; while she herself resumed her operations upon the commodore, whom she was resoled at any rate to captivate and enslave. And it must be owned that Mrs. Grizzle's knowledge of the human heart never shone so conspicuous as in the methods she pursued for the accomplishment of this important aim.
Mrs. Grizzle, who, to be honest, hadn’t given the clause she believed authorized her much thought, read the document more closely and was shocked by her own lack of insight. Yet, even though she was proven wrong, she didn’t think her objections to the cold bath were unreasonable. On the contrary, after calling the doctor a few harsh names for his ignorance and lack of honesty, she vehemently claimed that the practice of submerging the child was harmful—a cruel act that, with God's help, she would never allow inflicted on her own child. Washing her hands of the unfortunate consequences that would surely follow, she locked herself in her room to wallow in her sadness and frustration. However, she was mistaken in her prediction. The boy, instead of getting worse health-wise, seemed to gain new energy from every dip, as if he was determined to prove his aunt's wisdom and foresight wrong, which she would probably never forgive him for. This assumption is based on how she treated him throughout the rest of his childhood, where she was known to torment him more than once when she had the chance to poke pins into his skin without fear of being caught. In short, her feelings were soon completely distant from this hope of her family, which she left in the hands of his mother, who was undoubtedly responsible for raising her own child, while she went back to her efforts with the commodore, whom she was resolved to charm and control at any cost. It's clear that Mrs. Grizzle's understanding of human nature was particularly evident in the tactics she employed to achieve this crucial goal.
Through the rough unpolished hulk that cased the soul of Trunnion, she could easily distinguish a large share of that vanity and self-conceit that generally predominate even in the most savage beast; and to this she constantly appealed. In his presence she always exclaimed against the craft and dishonest dissimulation of the world, and never failed of uttering particular invectives against those arts of chicanery in which the lawyers are so conversant, to the prejudice and ruin of their fellow-creatures; observing that in a seafaring life, as far as she had opportunities of judging or being informed, there was nothing but friendship, sincerity, and a hearty contempt for everything that was mean or selfish.
Through the rough, unpolished exterior that surrounded Trunnion's soul, she could easily see a large amount of vanity and self-importance that often exists even in the most brutal animals; and she constantly pointed this out. In his presence, she always criticized the deceit and dishonesty of the world and never missed a chance to blast the tricks and scams that lawyers are so good at, which harm and ruin their fellow humans. She noted that in a life at sea, from what she could judge or had heard, there was only friendship, honesty, and a strong disdain for anything that was petty or selfish.
This kind of conversation, with the assistance of certain particular civilities, insensibly made an impression on the mind of the commodore, and the more effectual as his former prepossessions were built upon very slender foundations. His antipathy to old maids, which he had conceived upon hearsay, began gradually to diminish when he found they were not quite such infernal animals as they had been presented; and it was not long before he was heard to observe, at the club, that Pickle's sister had not so much of the core of b— in her as he had imagined. This negative compliment, by the medium of her brother, soon reached the ears of Mrs. Grizzle, who, thus encouraged, redoubled in her arts and attention; so that, in less than three months after, he in the same place distinguished her with the epithet of a d—d sensible jade.
This kind of conversation, with the help of certain polite gestures, quietly made an impression on the commodore's mind, especially since his earlier beliefs were based on pretty flimsy reasons. His dislike for old maids, which he had developed based on hearsay, started to fade when he realized they weren't the terrible creatures he had been led to believe. It didn't take long before he was heard saying at the club that Pickle's sister wasn't as much of a nightmare as he had thought. This backhanded compliment, through her brother, quickly found its way to Mrs. Grizzle, who, feeling encouraged, intensified her efforts and attention. So, in less than three months, he referred to her at the same place as a “damn sensible woman.”
Hatchway, taking the alarm at this declaration, which he feared foreboded something fatal to his interest, told his commander, with a sneer, that she had sense enough to bring him to under her stern; and he did not doubt but that such an old crazy vessel would be the better for being taken in tow. “But howsomever,” added this arch adviser, “I'd have you take care of your upper-works; for if once you are made fast to her poop, egad! She'll spank it away, and make every beam in your body crack with straining.”
Hatchway, feeling alarmed by this statement, which he feared might spell disaster for his interests, told his commander with a sneer that she was smart enough to bring him under her control; and he had no doubt that such an old, rickety ship would benefit from being towed. “But still,” added this cunning adviser, “I suggest you watch your upper-works; because once you’re fastened to her stern, I swear! She’ll take off and make every joint in your body creak from the strain.”
Our she-projector's whole plan had like to have been ruined by the effect which this malicious hint had upon Trunnion, whose rage and suspicion being wakened at once, his colour changed from tawny to a cadaverous pale, and then shifting to a deep and dusky red, such as we sometimes observe in the sky when it is replete with thunder, he, after his usual preamble of unmeaning oaths, answered in these words:—“D— you, you jury-legg'd dog, you would give all the stowage in your hold to be as sound as I am; and as for being taken in tow, d'ye see, I'm not so disabled that I can lie my course, and perform my voyage without assistance; and, egad! no man shall ever see Hawser Trunnion lagging astern, in the wake of e'er a b— in Christendom.”
Our projector's entire plan was nearly ruined by the effect this nasty remark had on Trunnion, whose anger and suspicion flared up instantly. His face changed from a tan to a sickly pale and then shifted to a deep, dark red, like the sky can look when it’s filled with thunder. After his usual rambling of meaningless oaths, he replied with these words:—“D— you, you wooden-legged fool, you’d give up all the cargo space in your hold to be as fit as I am; and as for being towed, let me tell you, I’m not so disabled that I can’t stay on course and finish my journey without help; and, by God! no one will ever see Hawser Trunnion lagging behind the wake of any bastard in Christendom.”
Mrs. Grizzle, who every morning interrogated her brother with regard to the subject of his night's conversation with his friends, soon received the unwelcome news of the commodore's aversion to matrimony; and justly imputing the greatest part of his disgust to the satirical insinuations of Mr. Hatchway, resolved to level this obstruction to her success, and actually found means to interest him in her scheme. She had indeed, on some occasions, a particular knack at making converts, being probably not unacquainted with that grand system of persuasion which is adopted by the greatest personages of the age, and fraught with maxims much more effectual than all the eloquence of Tully or Demosthenes, even when supported by the demonstrations of truth; besides, Mr. Hatchway's fidelity to his new ally was confirmed by his foreseeing, in his captain's marriage, an infinite fund of gratification for his own cynical disposition. Thus, therefore, converted and properly cautioned, he for the future suppressed all the virulence of his wit against the matrimonial state; and as he knew not how to open his mouth in the positive praise of any person whatever, took all opportunities of excepting Mrs. Grizzle, by name, from the censures he liberally bestowed upon the rest of her sex. “She is not a drunkard, like Nan Castick, of Deptford,” he would say; “not a nincompoop, like Peg Simper, of Woolwich; not a brimstone, like Kate Koddle, of Chatham; nor a shrew, like Nell Griffin, on the Point, Portsmouth” (ladies to whom, at different times, they had both paid their addresses); “but a tight, good-humoured, sensible wench, who knows very well how to box her compass; well-trimmed aloft, and well-sheathed alow, with a good cargo under her hatches.” The commodore at first imagined this commendation was ironical; but, hearing it repeated again and again, was filled with astonishment at this surprising change in the lieutenant's behaviour; and, after a long fit of musing, concluded that Hatchway himself harboured a matrimonial design on the person of Mrs. Grizzle.
Mrs. Grizzle, who every morning grilled her brother about his conversations with friends from the night before, soon got the unwelcome news that the commodore was against marriage. Realizing that much of his dislike was due to Mr. Hatchway's sarcastic remarks, she decided to remove this obstacle to her success and actually found a way to get him interested in her plan. She was known for having a special talent for winning people over, likely familiar with the great persuasion techniques used by the most influential people of her time, armed with principles much more effective than all the rhetoric of Cicero or Demosthenes, even when backed by the truth. Furthermore, Mr. Hatchway's loyalty to his new ally was strengthened by his anticipation that his captain's marriage would provide him with endless amusement for his cynical nature. Therefore, converted and properly warned, he began to hold back all the sharpness of his humor about marriage; and since he didn’t know how to genuinely praise anyone, he made sure to mention Mrs. Grizzle specifically whenever he criticized women in general. “She isn't a drunk like Nan Castick from Deptford,” he would say; “not an airhead like Peg Simper from Woolwich; not a firecracker like Kate Koddle from Chatham; nor a nag like Nell Griffin from Point, Portsmouth” (ladies to whom they had both courted at various times); “but a sharp, good-natured, sensible woman who knows how to navigate life; well put together up top and well-structured below, with a good load under her decks.” At first, the commodore thought this praise was sarcastic; however, after hearing it repeatedly, he was astonished by this unexpected shift in the lieutenant’s attitude. After pondering for a long time, he concluded that Hatchway might have romantic intentions toward Mrs. Grizzle.
Pleased with this conjecture, he rallied jack in his turn, and one night toasted her health as a compliment to his passion—a circumstance which the lady learned next day by the usual canal of her intelligence; and interpreting as the result of his own tenderness for her, she congratulated herself on the victory she had obtained; and thinking it unnecessary to continue the reserve she had hitherto industriously affected, resolved from that day to sweeten her behaviour towards him with such a dash of affection as could not fail to persuade him that he had inspired her with a reciprocal flame. In consequence of this determination, he was invited to dinner, and while he stayed treated with such cloying proofs of her regard, that not only the rest of the company, but even Trunnion perceived her drift; and taking the alarm accordingly, could not help exclaiming, “Oho! I see how the land lies, and if I don't weather the point, I'll be d—d.” Having thus expressed himself to his afflicted inamorata, he made the best of his way to the garrison, in which he shut himself up for the space of ten days, and had no communication with his friends and domestics but by looks, which were most significantly picturesque.
Pleased with this idea, he teased Jack in return, and one night raised a toast to her health as a nod to his feelings—a detail the lady found out the next day through her usual sources. Interpreting this as a sign of his affection for her, she congratulated herself on the victory she had achieved; deciding it was unnecessary to maintain the distance she had been carefully observing, she resolved from that day on to sweeten her interactions with him with a hint of affection that would surely convince him he had ignited her own feelings. As a result of this decision, he was invited to dinner, and during his visit, she treated him with such overwhelming signs of her affection that not only the other guests but even Trunnion noticed what was going on; alarmed, he couldn't help exclaiming, “Oh, I see how things stand. If I don't get the upper hand, I'll be damned.” After making this remark to his distressed love interest, he hurried back to the garrison, where he shut himself away for ten days, communicating with his friends and staff only through looks, which were very expressive.
CHAPTER VII.
Divers Stratagems are invented and put in practice, in order to overcome the obstinacy of Trunnion, who, at length, is teased and tortured into the Noose of Wedlock.
Different tricks are created and used to deal with Trunnion's stubbornness, who eventually is pressured and pushed into marriage.
This abrupt departure and unkind declaration affected Mrs. Grizzle so much, that she fell sick of sorrow and mortification; and after having confined herself to her bed for three days, sent for her brother, told him she perceived her end drawing near, and desired that a lawyer might be brought, in order to write her last will. Mr. Pickle, surprised at her demand, began to act the part of a comforter, assuring her that her distemper was not at all dangerous, and that he would instantly send for a physician, who would convince her that she was in no manner of jeopardy; so that there was no occasion at present to employ any officious attorney in such a melancholy task. Indeed, this affectionate brother was of opinion that a will was altogether superfluous at any rate, as he himself was heir-in-law to his sister's whole real and personal estate. But she insisted on his compliance with such determined obstinacy, that he could no longer resist her importunities; and, a arriving, she dictated and executed her will, in which she bequeathed to Commodore Trunnion one thousand pounds, to purchase a mourning ring, which she hoped he would wear as a pledge of her friendship and affection. Her brother, though he did not much relish this testimony of her love, nevertheless that same evening gave an account of this particular to Mr. Hatchway, who was also, as Mr. Pickle assured him, generously remembered by the testatrix.
This sudden departure and cruel declaration affected Mrs. Grizzle so deeply that she became ill with sadness and embarrassment. After staying in bed for three days, she called for her brother, told him she felt her end was near, and requested that a lawyer be brought in to write her will. Mr. Pickle, surprised by her request, tried to comfort her, assuring her that her condition wasn’t dangerous and that he would immediately send for a doctor, who would show her that she was in no real danger; therefore, there was no need to involve any pushy lawyer in such a sad affair. In fact, this caring brother believed a will was entirely unnecessary since he was the heir to his sister's entire estate anyway. However, she insisted on her request with such determination that he could no longer ignore her pleas; so when the lawyer arrived, she dictated and signed her will, in which she left Commodore Trunnion one thousand pounds to buy a mourning ring, which she hoped he would wear as a symbol of her friendship and affection. Her brother, although he didn't really appreciate this show of love, still told Mr. Hatchway that same evening about this detail, who, as Mr. Pickle assured him, was also generously remembered by the deceased.
The lieutenant, fraught with this piece of intelligence, watched for an opportunity; and as soon as he perceived the commodore's features a little unbended from that ferocious contraction they had retained so long, ventured to inform him that Pickle's sister lay at the point of death, and that she had left him a thousand pounds in her will. This piece of news overwhelmed him with confusion; and Mr. Hatchway, imputing his silence to remorse, resolved to take advantage of that favourable moment, and counselled him to go and visit the poor young woman, who was dying for love of him. But his admonition happened to be somewhat unseasonable. Trunnion no sooner heard him mention the cause of her disorder, than his morosity recurring, he burst out into a violent fit of cursing, and forthwith betook himself again to his hammock, where he lay, uttering, in a low growling tone of voice, a repetition of oaths and imprecations, for the space of four-and-twenty hours, without ceasing. This was a delicious meal to the lieutenant, who, eager to enhance the pleasure of the entertainment, and at the same the conduce to the success of the cause he had espoused, invented a stratagem, the execution of which had all the effect he could desire. He prevailed on Pipes, who was devoted to his service, to get on the top of the chimney, belonging to the commodore's chamber, at midnight, and lower down by a rope a bunch of stinking whitings, which being performed, he put a speaking-trumpet to his mouth, and hallooed down the vent, in a voice like thunder, “Trunnion! Trunnion! turn out and be spliced, or lir still and be d—.”
The lieutenant, burdened with this piece of information, waited for a chance; and as soon as he noticed the commodore's expression soften a bit from the fierce scowl it had worn for so long, he took the plunge to tell him that Pickle's sister was on her deathbed and had left him a thousand pounds in her will. This news left him completely taken aback. Mr. Hatchway, thinking his silence was due to guilt, decided to seize the moment and advised him to go see the poor young woman, who was dying for love of him. Unfortunately, his advice came at the wrong time. As soon as Trunnion heard the reason for her illness, his bad mood returned, and he exploded into a furious outburst of cursing. He then retreated to his hammock, where he lay for twenty-four hours, muttering a stream of oaths and curses under his breath without stopping. This provided a great opportunity for the lieutenant, who, eager to make the most of the situation and further the cause he had taken on, came up with a plan that worked perfectly. He convinced Pipes, who was loyal to him, to climb to the top of the chimney of the commodore's room at midnight and lower a bunch of rotten fish down the flue with a rope. After that, he shouted into the chimney with a voice like thunder, “Trunnion! Trunnion! Get up and get married, or lie still and be damned.”
This dreadful note, the terror of which was increased by the silence and darkness of the night, as well as the cello of the passage through which it was conveyed, no sooner reached the ears of the astonished commodore, than turning his eyes towards the place from whence this solemn address seemed to proceed, he beheld a glittering object that vanished in an instant. Just as his superstitious fear had improved the apparition into some supernatural messenger clothed in shining array, his opinion was confirmed by a sudden explosion, which he took for thunder, though it was no other than the noise of a pistol fired down the chimney by the boatswain's mate, according to the instructions he had received; and he had time enough to descend before he was in any danger of being detected by his commodore, who could not for an hour recollect himself from the amazement and consternation which had overpowered his faculties.
This terrifying note, made even more chilling by the silence and darkness of the night, as well as the eerie way it was delivered, reached the astounded commodore. He quickly looked toward the source of the solemn message and saw a bright object that disappeared in an instant. Just as his superstitious fear turned the sight into some supernatural being in shining attire, a loud bang followed, which he mistook for thunder, but was actually just the sound of a pistol fired down the chimney by the boatswain's mate, acting on his orders. He had enough time to get away before the commodore could notice him, who, for an hour, was too stunned and shocked to regain his composure.
At length, however, he got up, and rang his bell with great agitation. He repeated the summons more than once; but no regard being paid to this alarm, his dread returned with double terror, a cold sweat bedewed his limbs, his knees knocked together, his hair bristled up, and the remains of his teeth were shattered in pieces in the convulsive vibrations of his jaws.
At last, he got up and rang his bell anxiously. He called out several times, but since no one responded to his alarm, his fear came back even stronger. A cold sweat covered his body, his knees shook uncontrollably, his hair stood on end, and his teeth rattled in the convulsive tremors of his jaws.
In the midst of this agony he made one desperate effort, and, bursting open the door of apartment, bolted into Hatchway's chamber, which happened to be on the same floor. There he found the lieutenant in a counterfeit swoon, who pretended to wake from his trance in an ejaculation of “Lord have mercy upon us!” and being questioned by the terrified commodore with regard to what had happened, assured him he had heard the same voice and clap of thunder by which Trunnion himself had been discomposed.
In the middle of this pain, he made one last attempt, and, flinging open the door to the apartment, rushed into Hatchway's room, which was on the same floor. There, he found the lieutenant in a fake faint, who acted like he was coming out of his daze with a shout of “Lord have mercy on us!” When the frightened commodore asked what had happened, the lieutenant reassured him that he had heard the same voice and clap of thunder that had unsettled Trunnion himself.
Pipes, whose turn it was to watch, concurred in giving evidence to the same purpose; and the commodore not only owned that he had heard the voice, but likewise communicated his vision, with all the aggravation which his disturbed fancy suggested.
Pipes, who was on watch duty, agreed to give testimony for the same reason; and the commodore not only admitted that he had heard the voice, but also shared what he saw, along with all the added drama that his troubled imagination suggested.
A consultation immediately ensued, in which Mr. Hatchway gravely observed that the finger of Heaven was plainly perceivable in those signals, and that it would be both sinful and foolish to disregard its commands, especially as the match proposed was, in all respects, more advantageous than any that one of his years could reasonably expect; declaring that for his own part he would not endanger his soul and body by living one day longer under the same roof with a man who despised the will of Heaven; and Tom Pipes adhered to the same pious resolution.
A consultation quickly took place, where Mr. Hatchway seriously noted that the hand of Heaven was clearly evident in those signs, and that it would be both wrong and unwise to ignore its directives, especially since the proposed match was, in every way, more beneficial than anything a man of his age could realistically hope for; he declared that for his part, he would not risk his soul and body by living another day under the same roof as someone who disrespected the will of Heaven; and Tom Pipes supported the same devout decision.
Trunnion's perseverance could not resist the number and diversity of considerations that assaulted it; he revolved in silence all the opposite motives that occurred to his reflection; and after having been, to all appearance, bewildered in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, and, heaving a piteous groan, yielded to their remonstrances in these words: “Well, since it must be so, I think we must ev'n grapple. But d— my eyes! 'tis a d—d hard case that a fellow of my years should be compelled, d'ye see, to beat up to windward all the rest of my life against the current of my own inclination.”
Trunnion's determination couldn't withstand the barrage of thoughts that overwhelmed him; he silently considered all the conflicting reasons that came to mind, and after seeming entirely lost in the maze of his own reflections, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and, letting out a pained groan, gave in to their arguments with these words: “Well, since it has to be this way, I guess we have to face it. But damn it! It's really unfair that a guy my age should be forced to struggle against my own desires for the rest of my life.”
This important article being discussed, Mr. Hatchway set out in the morning to visit the despairing shepherdess, and was handsomely rewarded for the enlivening tidings with which he blessed her ears. Sick as she was, she could not help laughing heartily at the contrivance, in consequence of which her swain's assent had been obtained, and gave the lieutenant ten guineas for Tom Pipes, in consideration of the part he acted in the farce.
This important article being discussed, Mr. Hatchway set out in the morning to visit the troubled shepherdess and was generously rewarded for the uplifting news he brought her. Despite being unwell, she couldn't help but laugh wholeheartedly at the scheme that led to her lover's agreement and gave the lieutenant ten guineas for Tom Pipes due to the role he played in the act.
In the afternoon the commodore suffered himself to be conveyed to her apartment, like a felon to execution, and was received by her in a languishing manner, and genteel dishabille, accompanied by her sister-in-law, who was, for very obvious reasons, extremely solicitous about her success. Though the lieutenant had tutored him touching his behaviour it this interview, he made a thousand wry faces before he could pronounce the simple salutation of “How d'ye?” to his mistress; and after his counsellor had urged him with twenty or thirty whispers, to each of which he had replied aloud, “D— your eyes, I won't,” he got up, and halting towards the couch on which Mrs. Grizzle reclined in a state of strange expectation, he seized her hand and pressed it to his lips; but this piece of gallantry he performed in such a reluctant, uncouth, indignant manner, that the nymph had need of all her resolution to endure the compliment without shrinking; and he himself was so disconcerted at what he had done, that he instantly retired to the other end of the room, where he sat silent, and broiled with shame and vexation.
In the afternoon, the commodore allowed himself to be taken to her apartment, like a criminal heading to execution, and was greeted by her in a weak, weary manner, dressed in elegant but casual clothing, along with her sister-in-law, who was understandably anxious about her success. Even though the lieutenant had coached him on how to behave during this meeting, he made a variety of grimaces before he could manage to say the simple greeting, “How are you?” to his lover; and after his advisor had nudged him with twenty or thirty whispers, to which he replied out loud, “D— your eyes, I won’t,” he got up. He walked awkwardly towards the couch where Mrs. Grizzle lay in a state of anxious anticipation, seized her hand, and pressed it to his lips; however, he did this act of gallantry in such a reluctant, clumsy, and resentful manner that she had to muster all her strength to accept the compliment without flinching. He was so embarrassed by what he had done that he quickly retreated to the other end of the room, where he sat in silence, boiling with shame and frustration.
Mrs. Pickle, like a sensible matron, quitted the place, on pretence of going to the nursery; and Mr. Hatchway, taking the hint, recollected that he had left his tobacco-pouch in the parlour, whither he descended, leaving the two lovers to their mutual endearments. Never had the commodore found himself in such a disagreeable dilemma before. He sat in an agony of suspense, as if he every moment dreaded the dissolution of nature; and the imploring sighs of his future bride added, if possible, to the pangs of his distress. Impatient of this situation, he rolled his eye around in quest of some relief, and, unable to contain himself, exclaimed, “D—n seize the fellow and his pouch too! I believe he has sheered off, and left me here in the stays.”
Mrs. Pickle, being a sensible woman, left the room under the excuse of going to the nursery; and Mr. Hatchway, taking the hint, remembered that he had left his tobacco pouch in the parlor, so he headed downstairs, leaving the two lovers to their affectionate moments. Never before had the commodore found himself in such an uncomfortable situation. He sat there in agony, as if he feared the end of the world was near; and the pleading sighs of his future bride only added to his distress. Frustrated with this predicament, he looked around for some kind of escape, and unable to hold back, he exclaimed, “Damn it, get that guy and his pouch too! I think he’s made himself scarce and left me hanging here.”
Mrs. Grizzle, who could not help taking some notice of this manifestation of chagrin, lamented her unhappy fate in being so disagreeable to him, that he could not put up with her company for a few moments without repining; and began in very tender terms to reproach him with his inhumanity and indifference. To this expostulation he replied, “Zounds! what would the woman have? Let the parson do his office when he wool: here I am ready to be reeved in the matrimonial block, d'ye see, and d— all nonsensical palaver.” So saying, he retreated, leaving his mistress not at all disobliged at his plain dealing. That same evening the treaty of marriage was brought upon the carpet, and, by means of Mr. Pickle and the lieutenant, settled to the satisfaction of all parties, without the intervention of lawyers, whom Mr. Trunnion expressly excluded from all share in the business; making that condition the indispensable preliminary of the whole agreement. Things being brought to this bearing, Mrs. Grizzle's heart dilated with joy; her health, which, by the bye, was never dangerously impaired, she recovered as if by enchantment; and, a day being fixed for the nuptials, employed the short period of her celibacy in choosing ornaments for the celebration of her entrance into the married state.
Mrs. Grizzle, who couldn’t help but notice his obvious disappointment, lamented her unfortunate fate of being so unbearable to him that he couldn’t tolerate her company for even a few moments without complaining. She began to gently reproach him for his insensitivity and indifference. He responded, “What does this woman want? Let the priest do his job when he wants: here I am ready to be tied down in marriage, you see, and I don’t have time for all this nonsense.” With that, he stepped back, leaving his mistress unfazed by his bluntness. That same evening, the marriage proposal was brought up, and with the help of Mr. Pickle and the lieutenant, it was settled to everyone's satisfaction without involving lawyers, who Mr. Trunnion specifically excluded from any part of the agreement, making that a non-negotiable condition. With this arrangement in place, Mrs. Grizzle’s heart swelled with happiness; her health, which by the way had never been seriously compromised, seemed to bounce back as if by magic. Once a date was set for the wedding, she spent her remaining time as a single woman choosing decorations for the celebration of her new married life.
CHAPTER VIII.
Preparations are made for the Commodore's Wedding, which is delayed by an Accident that hurried him the Lord knows whither.
Preparations are in full swing for the Commodore's Wedding, which is postponed due to an accident that took him off to who knows where.
The fame of this extraordinary conjunction spread all over the county; and, on the day appointed for their spousals, the church was surrounded by an inconceivable multitude. The commodore, to give a specimen of his gallantry, by the advice of his friend Hatchway, resolved to appear on horseback on the grand occasion, at the head of all his male attendants, whom he had rigged with the white shirts and black caps formerly belonging to his barge's crew; and he bought a couple of hunters for the accommodation of himself and his lieutenant. With this equipage, then, he set out from the garrison for the church, after having despatched a messenger to apprise the bride that he and his company were mounted. She got immediately into the coach, accompanied by her brother and his wife, and drove directly to the place of assignation, where several pews were demolished, and divers persons almost pressed to death, by the eagerness of the crowd that broke in to see the ceremony performed. Thus arrived at the altar, and the priest in attendance, they waited a whole half-hour for the commodore, at whose slowness they began to be under some apprehension, and accordingly dismissed a servant to quicken his pace. The valet having ridden something more than a mile, espied the whole troop disposed in a long field, crossing the road obliquely, and headed by the bridegroom and his friend Hatchway, who, finding himself hindered by a hedge from proceeding farther in the same direction, fired a pistol, and stood over to the other side, making an obtuse angle with the line of his former course; and the rest of the squadron followed his example, keeping always in the rear of each other, like a flight of wild geese.
The news of this amazing event spread throughout the county, and on the day set for the wedding, the church was surrounded by an unimaginable crowd. The commodore, wanting to show off his flair, decided to ride on horseback for the big day, as suggested by his friend Hatchway. He gathered all his male attendants and dressed them in the white shirts and black caps that used to belong to his barge's crew. He also bought a couple of horses for himself and his lieutenant. With this setup, he left the garrison for the church after sending a messenger to let the bride know that he and his group were mounted. She immediately got into the carriage with her brother and his wife, and they drove straight to the venue, where several pews were wrecked, and many people were nearly crushed by the enthusiastic crowd pushing to see the ceremony. Once they reached the altar and the priest was ready, they waited a full half-hour for the commodore, whose delay started to cause some concern, prompting them to send a servant to hurry him along. The valet, after riding a little over a mile, saw the whole group lined up in a long field, crossing the road at an angle, led by the groom and his friend Hatchway. Hatchway, finding a hedge blocking his path, fired a pistol and moved to the other side, creating an angle with his original path, and the rest of the group followed suit, keeping close behind one another like a flock of wild geese.
Surprised at this strange method of journeying, the messenger came up, and told the commodore that his lady and her company expected him in the church, where they had tarried a considerable time, and were beginning to be very uneasy at his delay, and therefore desired he would proceed with more expedition. To this message Mr. Trunnion replied, “Hark ye, brother, don't you see we make all possible speed? go back, and tell those who sent you, that the wind has shifted since we weighed anchor, and that we are obliged to make very short trips in tacking, by reason of the narrowness of the channel; and that as we be within six points of the wind, they must make some allowance for variation and leeway.”—“Lord, sir!” said the valet, “what occasion have you to go zig-zag in that manner? Do but clap spurs to your horses, and ride straight forward, and I'll engage yea shall be at the church-porch in less than a quarter of an hour.”—“What? right in the wind's eye?” answered the commodore; “ahey! brother, where did you learn your navigation? Hawser Trunnion is not to be taught at this time of day how to lie his course, or keep his own reckoning. And as for you, brother, you best know the trim of your own frigate.”
Surprised by this strange way of traveling, the messenger approached and told the commodore that his lady and her group were waiting for him in the church, where they had already spent quite a while and were starting to get really anxious about his delay. They asked him to speed things up. Mr. Trunnion replied, “Hey, buddy, can’t you see we’re going as fast as we can? Go back and tell those who sent you that the wind has changed since we set sail, and we have to make really short trips while tacking because the channel is so narrow. Since we’re within six points of the wind, they need to account for some variation and leeway.” —“Good Lord, sir!” said the valet, “what's the point of going back and forth like that? Just kick your horses into gear and ride straight ahead, and I bet you’ll be at the church porch in less than fifteen minutes.” —“What? Directly into the wind?” replied the commodore; “Hey, buddy, where did you learn your navigation? Hawser Trunnion isn’t the kind of guy you need to teach how to set his course or keep track of his path. And as for you, my friend, you know your own ship best.”
The courier, finding he had to do with people who would not be easily persuaded out of their own opinions, returned to the temple, and made a report of what he had seen and heard, to the no small consolation of the bride, who had begun to discover some signs of disquiet. Composed, however, by this piece of intelligence, she exerted her patience for the space of another half-hour, during which period, seeing no bridegroom arrive, she was exceedingly alarmed; so that all the spectators could easily perceive her perturbation, which manifested itself in frequent palpitations, heart-heavings, and alterations of countenance, in spite of the assistance of a smelling-bottle which she incessantly applied to her nostrils.
The courier, realizing he was dealing with people who wouldn’t easily change their minds, returned to the temple and reported what he had seen and heard, which provided significant comfort to the bride, who had started to feel anxious. However, reassured by this news, she tried to stay patient for another half hour. During that time, when she saw that the groom still hadn’t arrived, she became very worried; so much so that all the onlookers could easily see her distress, which showed in her frequent heart palpitations, heavy breathing, and changes in her expression, despite her constantly using a smelling salts bottle at her nose.
Various were the conjectures of the company on this occasion: some imagined he had mistaken the place of rendezvous, as he had never been at church since he first settled in that parish; others believed he had met with some accident, in consequence of which his attendants had carried him back to his own house; and a third set, in which the bride herself was thought to be comprehended, could not help suspecting that the commodore had changed his mind. But all these suppositions, ingenious as they were, happened to be wide of the true cause that detained him, which was no other than this: the commodore and his crew had, by dint of turning, almost weathered the parson's house that stood to windward of the church, when the notes of a pack of hounds unluckily reached the ears of the two hunters which Trunnion and the lieutenant bestrode. These fleet animals no sooner heard the enlivening sound, than, eager for the chase, they sprang away all of a sudden, and strained every nerve to partake of the sport, flew across the fields with incredible speed, overleaped hedges and ditches, and everything in their way, without the least regard to their unfortunate riders. The lieutenant, whose steed had got the heels of the other, finding it would be great folly and presumption in him to pretend to keep the saddle with his wooden leg, very wisely took the opportunity of throwing himself off in his passage through a field of rich clover, among which he lay at his ease; and seeing his captain advancing, at full gallop, hailed him with the salutation of “What cheer? Ho!” The commodore, who was in infinite distress, eyeing him askance as he passed, replied, with a faltering voice, “O, d— ye!—you are safe at an anchor. I wish to God I were as fast moored.”
The group had all sorts of theories about what happened: some thought he had gotten the meeting place wrong since he hadn’t been to church since moving to the parish; others believed he might have had an accident, and his crew took him back home; and a third group, which included the bride, suspected that the commodore had simply changed his mind. But despite their clever guesses, none of them figured out the real reason for his delay. The truth was that the commodore and his crew had almost passed the parson's house, which was upwind from the church, when the sounds of a pack of hounds suddenly reached the ears of the two hunters on their backs. As soon as those eager dogs heard the exciting noise, they took off in a flash, bolting across the fields with astonishing speed, jumping fences and ditches without a care for their unfortunate riders. The lieutenant, whose horse was faster than the other, realized that trying to stay in the saddle with his wooden leg would be a bad idea. So, he wisely jumped off and landed in a field of soft clover, where he relaxed. When he saw his captain charging toward him, he called out, “What’s up? Hey!” The commodore, who was in great distress, glanced at him as he passed and responded with a shaky voice, “Oh, damn you! You’re safe where you are. I wish to God I were as securely anchored.”
Nevertheless, conscious of his disabled heel, he would not venture to try the experiment which had succeeded so well with Hatchway but resolved to stick as close as possible to his horse's back, until Providence should interpose in his behalf. With this view he dropped his whip, and with his right hand laid fast hold on the pommel, contracting every muscle in his body to secure himself in the seat, and grinning most formidably in consequence of this exertion. In this attitude he was hurried on a considerable way, when all of a sudden his view was comforted by a five-bar gate that appeared before him, as he never doubted that there the career of his hunter must necessarily end. But, alas! he reckoned without his host. Far from halting at this obstruction, the horse sprang over it with amazing agility, to the utter confusion and disorder of his owner, who lost his hat and periwig in the leap, and now began to think, in good earnest, that he was actually mounted on the back of the devil. He recommended himself to God; his reflections forsook him; his eyesight and all his other senses failed; he quitted the reins, and fastening by instinct on the mane, was in this condition conveyed into the midst of the sportsmen, who were astonished at the sight of such an apparition. Neither was their surprise to be wondered at, if we reflect on the figure that presented itself to their view. The commodore's person was at all times an object of admiration; much more so on this occasion, when every singularity was aggravated by the circumstances of his dress and disaster.
Nevertheless, aware of his hurt heel, he wouldn’t dare try the trick that had worked so well for Hatchway but decided to stick as close as possible to his horse's back until fate intervened on his behalf. With this in mind, he dropped his whip and gripped the pommel with his right hand, tightening every muscle in his body to hold himself in the saddle, and grinning fiercely due to this effort. In this position, he was rushed along quite a way when suddenly his eyes were reassured by a five-bar gate that appeared in front of him, as he was sure that this was where his ride would come to an end. But, unfortunately, he didn’t account for his host. Instead of stopping at this barrier, the horse sprang over it with incredible agility, leaving his owner in complete disarray, who lost his hat and wig in the jump and began to genuinely think that he was riding the devil. He prayed to God; his thoughts abandoned him; his vision and all his other senses failed him; he let go of the reins and instinctively grabbed the mane, and in this state was carried right into the midst of the hunters, who were astonished by this sight. Their surprise was understandable, considering the sight that confronted them. The commodore’s figure was always a source of admiration; even more so this time, when every oddity was highlighted by the aspects of his attire and the chaos he found himself in.
He had put on, in honour of his nuptials, his best coat of blue broad-cloth, cut by a tailor of Ramsgate, and trimmed with five dozen of brass buttons large and small; his breeches were of the same piece, fastened at the knees with large bunches of tape; his waistcoat was of red plush lappelled with green velvet, and garnished with vellum holes; his boots bore an infinite resemblance, both in colour and shape, to a pair of leather buckets; his shoulder was graced with a broad buff belt, from whence depended a huge hanger with a hilt like that of a backsword; and on each side of his pommel appeared a rusty pistol rammed in a case covered with a bearskin. The loss of his tie-periwig and laced hat, which were curiosities of the kind, did not at all contribute to the improvement of the picture, but, on the contrary, by exhibiting his bald pate, and the natural extension of his lantern jaws, added to the peculiarity and extravagance of the whole.
He had dressed up for his wedding in his best blue broadcloth coat, made by a tailor from Ramsgate, and trimmed with sixty brass buttons, both large and small. His breeches matched the coat and were tied at the knees with big loops of tape. His waistcoat was made of red plush with green velvet lapels and decorated with vellum holes. His boots looked a lot like a pair of leather buckets, both in color and shape. He sported a wide buff belt from which hung a large sword with a hilt similar to a backsword. On each side of the pommel were rusty pistols stuffed into a bearskin-covered case. The absence of his fancy wig and lace hat, which were quite extraordinary, did nothing to enhance his appearance; instead, revealing his bald head and prominent jaws only added to the overall oddity and flair of the look.
Such a spectacle could not have failed of diverting the whole company from the chase had his horse thought proper to pursue a different route; but the beast was too keen a sporter to choose any other way than that which the stag followed and therefore, without stopping to gratify the curiosity of the spectators, he in a few minutes outstripped every hunter in the field. There being a deep hollow betwixt him and the hounds, rather than ride round, about the length of a furlong, in a path that crossed the lane, he transported himself at one jump, to the unspeakable astonishment and terror of a waggoner who chanced to be underneath, and saw this phenomenon fly over his carriage. This was not the only adventure he achieved. The stag, having taken a deep river that lay in his way, every man directed his course to a bridge in the neighbourhood; but our bridegroom's courser, despising all such conveniences, plunged into the stream without hesitation, and swam in a twinkling to the opposite shore. This sudden immersion into an element of which Trunnion was properly a native, in all probability helped to recruit the exhausted spirits of his rider, at his landing on the other side gave some tokens of sensation, by hallooing aloud for assistance, which he could not possibly receive, because his horse still maintained the advantage he had gained, and would not allow himself to be overtaken.
Such a spectacle surely distracted everyone from the chase if his horse had chosen a different path; however, the horse was too sharp a hunter to follow any route other than the one the stag took. So, without pausing to entertain the curious spectators, he quickly outran every other hunter in the field. With a deep dip between him and the hounds, instead of going around the long way that crossed the lane, he leaped over in one bound, leaving a waggoner below utterly astonished and terrified as he witnessed this spectacle soaring over his cart. This wasn’t the only adventure he had. When the stag crossed a deep river in its path, everyone headed for a nearby bridge, but our bridegroom’s horse, dismissing all such conveniences, jumped straight into the water without hesitation and swam effortlessly to the other side. This sudden plunge into an element that Trunnion was naturally skilled in likely helped revive his rider’s exhausted spirits. When they landed on the other side, the horse showed some signs of feeling by calling out for help, which he couldn’t receive because his horse kept its lead and wouldn’t let itself be caught.
In short, after a long chase that lasted several hours, and extended to a dozen miles at least, he was the first in at the death of the deer, being seconded by the lieutenant's gelding, which, actuated by the same spirit, had, without a rider, followed his companion's example.
In short, after a long chase that lasted several hours and covered at least a dozen miles, he was the first to reach the dying deer, assisted by the lieutenant's horse, which, driven by the same spirit, had followed its companion's lead without a rider.
Our bridegroom, finding himself at last brought up, or, in other words, at the end of his career, took the opportunity of this first pause, to desire the huntsmen would lend him a hand in dismounting; and by their condescension, safely placed on the grass, where he sat staring at the company as they came in, with such wildness of astonishment in his looks, as if he had been a creature of another species, dropped among them from the clouds.
Our groom, finally coming to a stop, or in simpler terms, at the end of his journey, took the chance during this first break to ask the hunters for help getting off. With their assistance, he was safely set down on the grass, where he sat staring at the guests as they arrived, his expression full of bewilderment, as if he were an alien who had just landed among them from the sky.
Before they had fleshed the hounds, however, he recollected himself; and, seeing one of the sportsmen take a small flask out of his pocket and apply it to his mouth, judged the cordial to be no other than neat Cognac, which it really was; and expressing a desire of participation, was immediately accommodated with a moderate dose, which perfectly completed his recovery.
Before they had released the hounds, though, he gathered himself; and, noticing one of the hunters pull a small flask from his pocket and take a sip, he figured the drink was nothing other than straight Cognac, which it actually was; and expressing a wish to join in, he was promptly given a reasonable amount, which fully restored him.
By this time he and his two horses had engrossed the attention of the whole crowd: while some admired the elegant proportion and uncommon spirit of the two animals, the rest contemplated the surprising appearance of their master, whom before they had only seen en passant; and at length, one of the gentlemen, accosting him very courteously, signified his wonder at seeing him in such an equipage, and asked if he had not dropped his companion by the way. “Why look ye, brother,” replied the commodore, “mayhap you think me an odd sort of a fellow, seeing me in this trim, especially as I have lost part of my rigging; but this here is the case, d'ye see: I weighed anchor from my own house this morning, at ten A.M. with fair weather, and a favourable breeze at south-south-east, being bound to the next church on the voyage of matrimony: but howsomever, we had not run down a quarter of a league, when the wind shifting, blowed directly in our teeth; so that we were forced to tack all the way, d'ye see, and had almost been up within sight of the port, when these sons-of-b—s of horses, which I had bought but two days before (for my own part, I believe they are devils incarnate), luffed round in a trice, and then, refusing the helm, drove away like lightning with me and my lieutenant, who soon came to anchor in an exceeding good berth. As for my own part, I have been carried over rocks, and quicksands; among which I have pitched away a special good tie-periwig, and an iron-bound hat; and at last, thank God! am got into smooth water and safe riding; but if ever I venture my carcass upon such a hare'um scare'um blood-of-a-b— again, my name is not Hawser Trunnion, d— my eyes!”
By now, he and his two horses had caught the attention of the entire crowd: some admired the graceful build and unique spirit of the animals, while others took in the surprising sight of their master, whom they'd only glimpsed briefly before. Eventually, one of the gentlemen, addressing him politely, expressed his astonishment at seeing him in such a setup and asked if he had lost his companion along the way. “Well, you see, brother,” the commodore replied, “you might think I'm a bit odd, seeing me like this, especially since I've lost part of my gear; but here's the situation: I set off from my house this morning at ten A.M. with clear weather and a favorable breeze coming from the south-southeast, heading towards the nearest church for my wedding. However, we hadn’t traveled a quarter of a league when the wind changed and hit us head-on; so we had to tack all the way, you see, and we were almost in sight of the port when these damn horses, which I just bought two days ago (I swear they must be devils in disguise), suddenly turned around and then, refusing to listen, took off like lightning with me and my lieutenant, who soon found themselves anchored in a pretty good spot. As for me, I’ve been tossed over rocks and quicksand; during which I lost a really nice wig and a sturdy hat; and finally, thank God! I’ve made it into calm waters and can ride safely; but if I ever put myself in such a crazy situation again, my name isn’t Hawser Trunnion, damn my eyes!”
One of the company, struck with this name, which hee had often heard, immediately laid hold on his declaration at the close of this singular account, and, observing that his horses were very vicious, asked how he intended to return. “As for that matter,” replied Mr. Trunnion, “I am resolved to hire a sledge or waggon, or such a thing as a jackass; for I'll be d—d if ever I cross the back of a horse again.”—“And what do you propose to do with these creatures?” said the other, pointing to the hunters; “they seem to have some mettle; but then they are mere colts, and will take the devil-and-all of breaking: methinks this hinder one is shoulder-slipped.”—“D— them,” cried the commodore, “I wish both their necks were broke, thof the two cost me forty good yellow-boys.”.-“Forty guineas!” exclaimed the stranger, who was a squire and a jockey, as well as owner of the pack, “Lord! Lord! how a man may be imposed upon! Why, these cattle are clumsy enough to go to plough; mind what a flat counter; do but observe how sharp this here one is in the withers; then he's fired in the further fetlock.” In short, this connoisseur in horse-flesh, having discovered in them all the defects which can possibly be found in this species of animal, offered to give him ten guineas for the two, saying he would convert them into beasts of burden. The owner, who, after what had happened, was very well disposed to listen to anything that was said to their prejudice, implicitly believed the truth of the stranger's asseverations, discharged a furious volley of oaths against the rascal who had taken him in, and forthwith struck a bargain with the squire, who paid him instantly for his purchase; in consequence of which he won the plate at the next Canterbury races.
One of the men from the company, taken by this name that he had often heard, immediately seized on Mr. Trunnion’s statement at the end of this unusual story. Noticing that his horses were very wild, he asked how he planned to get back. “As for that,” replied Mr. Trunnion, “I’m determined to rent a sled or wagon, or something like a donkey; because I swear I will never ride a horse again.” “And what do you plan to do with these animals?” the other man asked, pointing to the hunting horses. “They seem like they have some spirit, but they’re just young horses and will be a pain to break in: I think this one here has a shoulder problem.” “Screw them,” shouted the commodore, “I wish both their necks were broken, even though they cost me forty good golden coins.” “Forty guineas!” exclaimed the stranger, who was both a squire and a jockey and the owner of the pack. “Goodness! How can a man be so fooled! These animals are clumsy enough to work in the fields; look at that flat back; just check how sharp this one is in the withers; then he’s injured in the back leg.” In short, this horse expert, having spotted all the flaws that could be found in those animals, offered to pay him ten guineas for the two, saying he would turn them into pack animals. The owner, who, after what had happened, was quite willing to listen to anything negative said about the horses, believed the stranger's claims completely, let loose a furious stream of curses against the scoundrel who had cheated him, and quickly made a deal with the squire, who paid him on the spot for his purchase; as a result, he won the prize at the next Canterbury races.
This affair being transacted to the mutual satisfaction of both parties, as well as to the general entertainment of the company, who laughed in their sleeves at the dexterity of their friend, Trunnion was set upon the squire's own horse, and led by his servant in the midst of this cavalcade, which proceeded to a neighbouring village, where they had bespoke dinner, and where our bridegroom found means to provide himself with another hat and wig. With regard to his marriage, he bore his disappointment with the temper of a philosopher; and the exercise he had undergone having quickened his appetite, sat down at table in the midst of his new acquaintance, making a very hearty meal, and moistening every morsel with a draught of the ale, which he found very much to his satisfaction.
This affair was wrapped up to the satisfaction of both parties, as well as for the entertainment of the company, who chuckled to themselves at their friend’s cleverness. Trunnion was put on the squire's own horse and led by his servant amid this procession, which headed to a nearby village where they had arranged for dinner, and where our groom managed to get himself another hat and wig. As for his marriage, he accepted the disappointment with the calmness of a philosopher; the activity he had gone through had sharpened his appetite, so he sat down to a hearty meal with his new companions, enjoying every bite and washing it down with the ale, which he found very satisfying.
CHAPTER IX.
He is found by Lieutenant—Reconducted to his own House—Married to Mrs. Grizzle, who meets with a small misfortune in the Night, and asserts her Prerogative next Morning, in consequence of which her Husband's Eye is endangered.
He is discovered by the Lieutenant—brought back to his own house—married to Mrs. Grizzle, who experiences a small mishap during the night and claims her rights the next morning, which puts her husband's eye at risk.
Meanwhile Lieutenant Hatchway made shift to hobble to the church, where he informed the company of what had happened to the commodore: and the bride behaved with great decency on the occasion; for, as she understood the danger to which her future husband was exposed, she fainted in the arms of her sister-in-law, to the surprise of all the spectators, who could not comprehend the cause of her disorder; and when she was recovered by the application of smelling-bottles, earnestly begged that Mr. Hatchway and Tom Pipes should take her brother's coach, and go in quest of their commander.
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Hatchway struggled to make his way to the church, where he informed the group about what had happened to the commodore. The bride handled the situation with a lot of grace; when she realized the danger her future husband was in, she fainted in her sister-in-law's arms, shocking all the onlookers, who couldn't understand why she was upset. Once she was revived with smelling salts, she urgently requested that Mr. Hatchway and Tom Pipes take her brother's coach and go search for their commander.
This task they readily undertook, being escorted by all the rest of his adherents on horseback; while the bride and her friends were invited to the parson's horse, and the ceremony deferred till another occasion.
This task they eagerly accepted, being accompanied by all of his supporters on horseback; while the bride and her friends were invited to the parson's horse, and the ceremony was postponed until another time.
The lieutenant, steering his course as near the line of direction in which Trunnion went off, as the coach-road would permit, got intelligence of his track from one farm-house to another; for such an apparition could not fail of attracting particular notice; and one of the horsemen having picked up his hat and wig in a by-path, the whole troop entered the village where he was lodged, about four o'clock in the afternoon. When they understood he was safely housed at the George, they rode up to the door in a body, and expressed their satisfaction in three cheers; which were returned by the company within, as soon as they were instructed in the nature of the salute by Trunnion, who, by this time, had entered into all the jollity of his new friends, and was indeed more than half-seas-over. The lieutenant was introduced to all present as his sworn brother, and had something tossed up for his dinner. Tom Pipes and the crew were regaled in another room; and, a fresh pair of horses being put to the coach, about six in the evening the commodore, with all his attendants, departed for the garrison, after having shook hands with every individual in the house.
The lieutenant, steering his course as close as possible to the direction Trunnion had taken, as the coach road allowed, got updates on his path from one farmhouse to another; an event like that couldn’t help but attract attention. One of the horsemen found his hat and wig in a side path, and the whole group rode into the village where he was staying around four o'clock in the afternoon. When they found out he was safely at the George, they rode up to the door together and cheered three times, which the people inside returned once Trunnion explained the salute to them. By this time, he had really joined in the fun with his new friends and was more than a little tipsy. The lieutenant was introduced to everyone as Trunnion’s sworn brother and was given something to eat for dinner. Tom Pipes and the crew were treated in another room, and after fresh horses were hitched to the coach, around six in the evening, the commodore, along with all his entourage, left for the garrison after shaking hands with everyone in the house.
Without any further accident, he was conveyed in safety to his own gate before nine, and committed to the care of Pipes, who carried him instantly to his hammock, while the lieutenant was driven away to the place where the bride and her friends remained in great anxiety, which vanished when he assured them that his commodore was safe, being succeeded by abundance of mirth and pleasantry at the account he gave of Trunnion's adventure.
Without any more mishaps, he was safely brought to his own gate before nine and handed over to Pipes, who took him straight to his hammock. Meanwhile, the lieutenant was taken to where the bride and her friends waited anxiously, but their worries disappeared when he reassured them that his commodore was okay. Laughter and jokes followed as he shared the story of Trunnion's adventure.
Another day was fixed for the nuptials; and in order to balk the curiosity of idle people, which had given great offence, the parson was prevailed upon to perform the ceremony in the garrison, which all that day was adorned with flags and pendants displayed; and at night illuminated, by the direction of Hatchway, who also ordered the patereroes to be fired, as soon as the marriage-knot was tied. Neither were the other parts of the entertainment neglected by this ingenious contriver, who produced undeniable proofs of his elegance and art in the wedding-supper, which had been committed to his management and direction. This genial banquet was entirely composed of sea-dishes; a huge pillaw, consisting of a large piece of beef sliced, a couple of fowls, and half a peck of rice, smoked in the middle of the board: a dish of hard fish, swimming in oil, appeared at each end; the sides being furnished with a mess of that savoury composition known by the name of lub's-course, and a plate of salmagundy. The second course displayed a goose of a monstrous magnitude, flanked with two Guinea-hens, a pig barbacued, a hock of salt pork, in the midst of a pease-pudding, a leg of mutton roasted, with potatoes, and another boiled, with yams. The third service was made up of a loin of fresh pork, with apple-sauce, a kid smothered with onions, and a terrapin baked in the shell; and last of all, a prodigious sea-pie was presented, with an infinite volume of pancakes and fritters. That everything might be answerable to the magnificence of this delicate feast, he had provided vast quantifies of strong beer, flip, rumbo, and burnt brandy, with plenty of Barbadoes water for the ladies; and hired all the fiddles within six miles, which, with the addition of a drum, bagpipe, and Welsh harp, regaled the guests with a most melodious concert.
Another day was set for the wedding, and to avoid the curiosity of nosy people, which had caused some upset, the parson agreed to hold the ceremony in the garrison. It was decorated with flags and banners all day, and at night it was lit up under Hatchway's direction, who also arranged for the cannons to be fired as soon as the couple was married. The other aspects of the celebration were not overlooked by this clever planner, who showcased his style and skill in the wedding feast, which was entrusted to him. This festive meal was entirely made up of seafood dishes; a massive pilaw containing a large piece of beef, two chickens, and half a peck of rice was the centerpiece on the table. A platter of hard fish swimming in oil was presented at each end; the sides featured a savory dish called lub's-course and a plate of salmagundy. The second course showcased a gigantic goose, accompanied by two guinea hens, a barbecued pig, a hock of salt pork amidst a pea pudding, a roasted leg of mutton with potatoes, and another boiled with yams. The third course included a loin of fresh pork with apple sauce, a kid smothered with onions, and a terrapin baked in its shell; finally, a huge seafood pie was served, along with a mountain of pancakes and fritters. To match the grandeur of this exquisite feast, he had supplied large quantities of strong beer, flip, rum, and burnt brandy, with plenty of Barbadian water for the ladies; he also hired every fiddler within six miles, and with the addition of a drum, bagpipe, and Welsh harp, the guests were treated to a delightful concert.
The company, who were not at all exceptions, seemed extremely well pleased with every particular of the entertainment; and the evening being spent in the most social manner, the bride was by her sister conducted to her apartment, where, however, a trifling circumstance had like to have destroyed the harmony which had been hitherto maintained.
The company, who were certainly no exception, appeared really happy with every aspect of the entertainment; and as the evening was spent in the most sociable way, the bride was taken by her sister to her room, where, however, a small incident almost disrupted the harmony that had been maintained so far.
I have already observed, that there was not one standing bed within the walls; therefore the reader will not wonder that Mrs. Trunnion was out of humour, when she found herself under the necessity of being confined with her spouse in a hammock, which, though enlarged with a double portion of canvas, and dilated with a yoke for the occasion, was at best but a disagreeable, not to say dangerous situation. She accordingly complained with some warmth of this inconvenience, which she imputed to disrespect; and, at first, absolutely refused to put up with the expedient; but Mrs. Pickle soon brought her to reason and compliance, by observing that one night will soon be elapsed, and next day she might regulate her own economy.
I’ve already noticed that there wasn’t a single permanent bed inside the walls; so it’s no surprise that Mrs. Trunnion was in a bad mood when she found herself stuck sharing a hammock with her husband. Although it was made bigger with extra canvas and expanded for the occasion, it was still an uncomfortable, not to mention risky situation. She complained quite a bit about this inconvenience, which she thought showed a lack of respect; at first, she flat out refused to accept the arrangement. But Mrs. Pickle quickly talked her into going along with it by pointing out that one night would pass quickly, and the next day she could take charge of her own situation.
Thus persuaded, she ventured into the vehicle, and was visited by her husband in less than an hour, the company being departed to their own homes, and the garrison left to the command of his lieutenant and mate. But it seems the hooks that supported this swinging couch were not calculated for the addition of weight which they were now destined to bear; and therefore gave way in the middle of the night, to the no small terror of Mrs. Trunnion, who perceiving herself falling, screamed aloud, and by that exclamation brought Hatchway with a light into the chamber. Though she had received no injury by the fall, she was extremely discomposed and incensed at the accident, which she even openly ascribed to the obstinacy and whimsical oddity of the commodore, in such petulant terms as evidently declared that she thought her great aim accomplished, and her authority secured against all the shocks of fortune. Indeed her bedfellow seemed to be of the same opinion, by his tacit resignation; for he made no reply to her insinuations, but with a most vinegar aspect crawled out of his nest, and betook himself to rest in another apartment; while his irritated spouse dismissed the lieutenant, and from the wreck of the hammock made an occasional bed for herself on the floor, fully determined to provide better accommodation for the next night's lodging.
Convinced, she got into the vehicle and was visited by her husband in less than an hour, after the company had gone home and the garrison was left under the command of his lieutenant and mate. However, it seems that the hooks holding up the swinging couch weren’t designed to support the extra weight they were now expected to bear; so in the middle of the night, they gave way, causing quite a scare for Mrs. Trunnion. Realizing she was falling, she screamed, which brought Hatchway with a light into the room. Although she wasn’t hurt from the fall, she was extremely upset and angry about the incident, which she openly blamed on the commodore's stubbornness and quirky nature, expressing her frustration in a way that made it clear she believed she had achieved her goal and secured her authority against any misfortune. Indeed, her bedfellow seemed to share this view, as he silently accepted the situation; he didn’t respond to her comments but with a sour look crawled out of bed and moved to another room to sleep. Meanwhile, his annoyed wife sent the lieutenant away and, using the remnants of the hammock, made herself a makeshift bed on the floor, fully determined to arrange better accommodations for the next night.
Having no inclination to sleep, her thoughts, during the remaining part of the night, were engrossed by a scheme of reformation she was resolved to execute in the family; and no sooner did the first lark bid salutation to the morn, than, starting from her humble couch, and huddling on her clothes, she sallied from her chamber, explored her way through paths before unknown, and in the course of her researches perceived a large bell, to which she made such effectual application as alarmed every soul in the family. In a moment she was surrounded by Hatchway, Pipes, and all the rest of the servants half-dressed; but seeing none of the feminine gender appear, she began to storm at the sloth and laziness of the maids, who, she observed, ought to have been at work an hour at least before she called; and then, for the first time, understood that no woman was permitted to sleep within the walls.
Not feeling tired, her thoughts for the rest of the night were consumed by a plan for reform she was determined to carry out in the family. As soon as the first lark greeted the morning, she jumped out of her small bed, quickly put on her clothes, and rushed out of her room. She navigated through unfamiliar paths and during her exploration, she noticed a big bell, which she rang loudly enough to wake up everyone in the house. Soon, she found herself surrounded by Hatchway, Pipes, and all the other servants, who were half-dressed. But when she didn’t see any women appear, she began to complain about the slothfulness and laziness of the maids, who she noted should have already been working for at least an hour before she called them. It was then that she realized that no woman was allowed to sleep within the walls.
She did not fail to exclaim against this regulation; and being informed that the cook and chambermaid lodged in a small office-house that stood without the gate, ordered the drawbridge to be let down, and in person beat up their quarters, commanding them forthwith to set about scouring the rooms, which had not been hitherto kept in a very decent condition, while two men were immediately employed to transport the bed on which she used to lie from her brother's house to her new habitation; so that, in less than two hours, the whole economy of the garrison was turned topsy-turvy, and everything involved in tumult and noise. Trunnion, being disturbed and distracted with the uproar, turned out in his shirt like a maniac, and, arming himself with a cudgel of crab-tree, made an irruption into his wife's apartment, where, perceiving a couple of carpenters at work in joining a bedstead, he, with many dreadful oaths and opprobrious invectives, ordered them to desist, swearing he would suffer no bulkheads nor hurricane-houses to stand where he was master: but finding his remonstrances disregarded by these mechanics, who believed him to be some madman belonging to the family, who had broken from his confinement, he assaulted them both with great fury and indignation, and was handled so roughly, in the encounter, that in a very short time he measured his length on the floor, in consequence of a blow that he received from a hammer by which the sight of his remaining eye was grievously endangered.
She didn't hold back in complaining about the rule; and when she found out that the cook and chambermaid were staying in a small office outside the gate, she ordered the drawbridge to be lowered and personally went to check on them, telling them to immediately start cleaning the rooms, which had not been in great shape. At the same time, two men were quickly hired to move the bed she used to sleep on from her brother's house to her new place. So, in less than two hours, the entire setup of the garrison was thrown into chaos, filled with noise and confusion. Trunnion, annoyed and distracted by the racket, came out in his shirt like a madman and, grabbing a crab-apple club, barged into his wife's room. There, he saw two carpenters working on a bed frame and, cursing loudly and throwing insults, ordered them to stop, insisting he wouldn’t allow any partitions or hurricane-houses where he was in charge. But when his demands were ignored by these workers, who thought he was just a crazed family member who had escaped from his confinement, he attacked them both in a fury. He was treated so roughly in the scuffle that it wasn't long before he ended up on the floor, suffering a blow from a hammer that seriously endangered the sight in his remaining eye.
Having thus reduced him to a state of subjection, they resolved to secure him with cords, and were actually busy in adjusting his fetters, when he was exempted from the disgrace by the accidental entrance of his spouse, who rescued him from the hands of his adversaries, and, in the midst of her condolence, imputed his misfortune to the inconsiderate roughness of his own disposition.
Having brought him under control, they decided to tie him up and were in the process of fastening his restraints when his wife unexpectedly walked in. She saved him from his enemies and, while comforting him, blamed his misfortune on his careless and harsh nature.
He breathed nothing but revenge, and made some efforts to chastise the insolence of the workmen, who, as soon as they understood his quality, asked forgiveness for what they had done with great humility, protesting that they did not know he was master of the house. But, far from being satisfied with this apology, he groped about for the bell, the inflammation of his eye having utterly deprived him of sight; and the rope being, by the precaution of the delinquents, conveyed out of his reach, began to storm with incredible vociferation, like a lion roaring in the toil, pouring forth innumerable oaths and execrations, and calling by name Hatchway and Pipes, who, being within hearing, obeyed the extraordinary summons, and were ordered to put the carpenters in irons, for having audaciously assaulted him in his own house.
He was consumed by revenge and tried to punish the workers who, once they realized who he was, begged for forgiveness with great humility, claiming they didn’t know he was the master of the house. However, instead of being satisfied with their apology, he fumbled around for the bell, his eye inflammation completely blinding him. The rope, cleverly moved out of his reach by the offenders, led him to yell furiously, like a lion roaring in a trap, unleashing a torrent of curses and insults, and specifically calling out Hatchway and Pipes. Hearing his extraordinary summons, they complied and were told to put the carpenters in chains for outrageously attacking him in his own home.
His myrmidons, seeing he had been evil-treated, were exasperated at the insult he had suffered, which they considered as an affront upon the dignity of the garrison; the more so as the mutineers seemed to put themselves in a posture of defence and set their authority at defiance; they therefore unsheathed their cutlasses, which they commonly wore as badges of their commission; and a desperate engagement in all probability would have ensued, had not the lady of the castle interposed, and prevented the effects of their animosity, by assuring the lieutenant that the commodore had been the aggressor, and that the workmen, finding themselves attacked in such an extraordinary manner, by a person whom they did not know, were obliged to act in their own defence, by which he had received that unlucky contusion.
His followers, seeing that he had been mistreated, were furious about the insult he had endured, which they viewed as a blow to the garrison's honor; especially since the rebels appeared to take a defensive stance and openly defied their authority. They drew their cutlasses, which they usually carried as symbols of their rank; and a fierce fight was likely to break out, had the lady of the castle not stepped in, calming them by assuring the lieutenant that the commodore had started it, and that the workers, finding themselves unexpectedly attacked by someone they didn't recognize, had to defend themselves, resulting in him getting that unfortunate bruise.
Mr. Hatchway no sooner learnt the sentiments of Mrs. Trunnion, than, sheathing his indignation, he told the commodore he should always be ready to execute his lawful commands; but that he could not in conscience be concerned in oppressing poor people who had been guilty of no offence.
Mr. Hatchway barely learned how Mrs. Trunnion felt before he calmed his anger and told the commodore that he would always be ready to carry out his lawful orders; however, he couldn’t, in good conscience, be involved in oppressing poor people who had done nothing wrong.
This unexpected declaration, together with the behaviour of his wife, who in his hearing desired the carpenters to resume their work, filled the breast of Trunnion with rage and mortification. He pulled off his woollen night-cap, pummeled his bare pate, beat the floor alternately with his feet, swore his people had betrayed him, and cursed himself to the lowest pit of hell for having admitted such a cockatrice into his family. But all these exclamations did not avail; they were among the last essays of his resistance to the will of his wife, whose influence among his adherents had already swallowed up his own, and peremptorily told him that he must leave the management of everything within-doors to her, who understood best what was for his honour and advantage. She then ordered a poultice to be prepared for his eye, which being applied, he was committed to the care of Pipes, by whom he was led about the house like a blind bear growling for prey, while his industrious yoke-fellow executed every circumstance of the plan she had projected; so that when he recovered his vision he was an utter stranger in his own house.
This unexpected announcement, along with his wife's behavior, who asked the carpenters to continue their work while he was listening, filled Trunnion with anger and frustration. He took off his wool nightcap, pounded his bare head, stomped his feet on the floor, cursed his people for betraying him, and damned himself to the lowest depths of hell for letting such a schemer into his family. But all these outbursts were futile; they were among his last attempts to resist his wife's will, whose influence over his supporters had already eclipsed his own, firmly telling him that he had to leave all the household management to her, as she knew best what was for his honor and benefit. She then ordered a poultice for his eye, which, once applied, left him under the care of Pipes, who led him around the house like a blind bear growling for food, while his hardworking wife took care of every detail of her plan; so that when he regained his sight, he was a complete stranger in his own home.
CHAPTER X.
The Commodore being in some cases restive, his Lady has recourse to Artifice in the Establishment of her Throne—She exhibits Symptoms of Pregnancy, to the unspeakable joy of Trunnion, who, nevertheless, is balked in his expectation.
The Commodore, at times difficult, prompts his Lady to use clever tactics to secure her position—she shows signs of being pregnant, much to Trunnion's immense delight, yet he is still left disappointed in his hopes.
These innovations were not effected without many loud objections on his part; and divers curious dialogues passed between him and his yoke-fellow, who always came off victorious from the dispute; insomuch, that his countenance gradually fell: he began to suppress, and at length entirely devoured, his chagrin; the terrors of superior authority were plainly perceivable in his features; and in less than three months he became a thorough-paced husband. Not that his obstinacy was extinguished, though overcome. In some things he was as inflexible and mulish as ever; but then he durst not kick so openly, and was reduced to the necessity of being passive in his resentments. Mrs. Trunnion, for example, proposed that a coach and six should be purchased, as she could not ride on horseback, and the chaise was a scandalous carriage for a person of her condition. The commodore, conscious of his own inferior capacity in point of reasoning, did not think proper to dispute the proposal but lent a deaf ear to her repeated remonstrances, though they were enforced with every argument which she thought could soothe, terrify, shame or decoy him into compliance. In vain did she urge the excess of affection she had for him as meriting some return of tenderness and condescension: he was even proof against certain menacing hints she gave touching the resentment of a slighted woman; and he stood out against all the considerations of dignity or disgrace like a bulwark of brass. Neither was he moved to any indecent or unkind expressions of contradiction, even when she upbraided him with his sordid disposition, and put him in mind of the fortune and honour he had acquired by his marriage, but seemed to retire within himself, like a tortoise when attacked, that shrinks within its shell, and silently endured the scourge of her reproaches, without seeming sensible of the smart.
These innovations didn’t happen without a lot of loud objections from him; and various curious conversations took place between him and his wife, who always came out on top in the arguments. Gradually, his demeanor fell; he started to suppress his frustrations, eventually swallowing them entirely. The fear of higher authority was clearly visible on his face; and within less than three months, he became a complete husband. Not that his stubbornness disappeared, even though it was conquered. In some matters, he was just as unyielding and stubborn as ever; but he no longer dared to openly rebel and had to remain passive in his resentments. For instance, Mrs. Trunnion suggested buying a coach and six horses since she couldn’t ride on horseback, and a chaise was simply not appropriate for someone of her status. The commodore, aware of his own limited reasoning skills, didn’t feel it was right to argue against her suggestion, so he ignored her repeated protests, even though she used every argument she thought could placate, intimidate, shame, or persuade him into agreement. She tried in vain to emphasize the deep affection she had for him, expecting some response of kindness and compromise: he even brushed off certain threatening hints she made about the anger of a slighted woman; and he stood firm against all appeals to dignity or disgrace like a brass wall. He was also unmoved by any rude or unkind comments, even when she called him out for his stingy nature and reminded him of the wealth and honor he gained from their marriage, instead retreating into himself, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell when threatened, silently enduring her reproaches without showing any sign of hurt.
This, however, was the only point in which she had been baffled since her nuptials; and as she could by no means digest the miscarriage, she tortured her invention for some new plan by which she might augment her influence and authority. What her genius refused was supplied by accident; for she had not lived four months in the garrison, when she was seized with frequent qualms and retchings; in a word, she congratulated herself on the symptoms of her own fertility; and the commodore was transported with joy at the prospect of an heir of his own begetting.
This, however, was the only thing that had thrown her off since getting married; and since she couldn’t accept this failure, she racked her brain for a new plan to increase her influence and authority. What her creativity couldn’t come up with was provided by chance; because she hadn’t lived in the garrison for four months when she began to experience frequent nausea and retching; in short, she was pleased with the signs of her own fertility; and the commodore was overjoyed at the idea of having an heir of his own.
She knew this was the proper season for vindicating her own sovereignty, and accordingly employed the means which nature had put in her power. There was not a rare piece of furniture or apparel for which she did not long; and one day, as she went to church, seeing Lady Stately's equipage arrive, she suddenly fainted away. Her husband, whose vanity had never been so perfectly gratified as with this promised harvest of his own sowing, took the alarm immediately; and in order to prevent relapses of that kind, which might be attended with fatal consequence to his hope, gave her leave to bespeak a coach, horses, and liveries, to her own liking. Thus authorized, she in a very little time exhibited such a specimen of her own taste and magnificence as afforded speculation to the whole country, and made Trunnion's heart quake within him; because he foresaw no limits to her extravagance which also manifested itself in the most expensive preparations for her lying-in.
She realized this was the right time to assert her own independence, so she used the resources that nature had given her. There wasn't a unique piece of furniture or clothing that she didn't desire; and one day, while heading to church, she saw Lady Stately's carriage arrive and suddenly fainted. Her husband, whose pride had never been so completely satisfied as with this anticipated success from his own efforts, panicked immediately. To avoid any episodes like that which could jeopardize his hopes, he allowed her to order a coach, horses, and uniforms to her liking. With that permission, she quickly showcased her own taste and grandeur, attracting attention from the entire region, and making Trunnion's heart race because he realized there were no limits to her extravagance, which was also evident in her lavish preparations for childbirth.
Her pride, which had hitherto regarded the representative of her father's house, seemed now to lose all that hereditary respect, and prompt her to outshine and undervalue the elder branch of her family. She behaved to Mrs. Pickle with a sort of civil reserve that implied a conscious superiority; and an emulation in point of grandeur immediately commenced between the two sisters. She every day communicated her importance to the whole parish, under pretence of taking the air in her coach, and endeavoured to extend her acquaintance among people of fashion. Nor was this an undertaking attended with great difficulty, for all persons whatever capable of maintaining a certain appearance, will always find admission into what is called the best company, and be rated in point of character according to their own valuation, without subjecting their pretensions to the smallest doubt or examination. In all her visits and parties she seized every opportunity of declaring her present condition, observing that she was forbid by her physicians to taste such a pickle, and that such a dish was poison to a woman in her way; nay, where she was on a footing of familiarity, she affected to make wry faces, and complained that the young rogue began to be very unruly, writhing herself into divers contortions, as if she had been grievously incommoded by the mettle of this future Trunnion. The husband himself did not behave with all the moderation that might have been expected. At the club he frequently mentioned this circumstance of his own vigour as a pretty successful feat to be performed by an old fellow of fifty-five, and confirmed the opinion of his strength by redoubled squeezes of the landlord's hand, which never failed of extorting a satisfactory certificate of his might. When his companions drank to the Hans en kelder, or Jack in the low cellar, he could not help displaying an extraordinary complacence of countenance, and signified his intention of sending the young dog to sea as soon as he should be able to carry a cartridge, in hopes of seeing him an officer before his own death.
Her pride, which had previously respected the representative of her father's family, now seemed to lose all that inherited respect and prompted her to outshine and look down on the older branch of her family. She acted toward Mrs. Pickle with a kind of polite distance that suggested she felt superior; and a competition for status quickly began between the two sisters. Every day, she let the entire parish know about her importance, under the guise of taking a drive in her coach, and tried to broaden her circle among fashionable people. This was not a difficult task since anyone who could maintain a certain appearance would always find their way into what is known as the best company, rated based on their own self-assessment without any scrutiny or doubt. During all her visits and gatherings, she seized every chance to announce her current state, saying that her doctors forbade her from tasting this pickle or that such a dish was harmful for a woman in her condition; indeed, where she was friendly enough, she pretended to grimace and complained that the young rogue was becoming quite unruly, contorting herself as if she were seriously troubled by the energy of this future Trunnion. The husband himself did not act with the restraint one might expect. At the club, he often mentioned this aspect of his own vitality as a notable achievement for a guy of fifty-five, confirming his strength with extra squeezes of the landlord's hand, which always resulted in a satisfactory endorsement of his might. When his friends toasted to the Hans en kelder, or Jack in the low cellar, he could not help but show an extraordinary level of satisfaction on his face and expressed his intention to send the young lad to sea as soon as he was able to handle a cartridge, hoping to see him become an officer before he died.
This hope helped to console him under the extraordinary expense to which he was exposed by the profusion of his wife, especially when he considered that his compliance with her prodigality would be limited to the expiration of the nine months, of which the best part was by this time elapsed: yet, in spite of all this philosophical resignation, her fancy sometimes soared to such a ridiculous and intolerable pitch of insolence and absurdity, that his temper forsook him, and he could not help wishing in secret that her pride might be confounded in the dissipation of her most flattering hopes, even though he himself should be a principal sufferer by the disappointment. These, however, were no other than the suggestions of temporary disgusts, that commonly subsided as suddenly as they arose, and never gave the least disturbance to the person who inspired them, because he took care to conceal them carefully from her knowledge.
This hope helped to comfort him during the huge costs he faced because of his wife's extravagance, especially when he thought about how his acceptance of her spending would only last for nine months, most of which had already gone by. Yet, despite this philosophical acceptance, her imagination sometimes reached such a ridiculous and unbearable level of arrogance and absurdity that he lost his temper and secretly wished for her pride to be crushed by the collapse of her most ambitious dreams, even if he himself would be greatly hurt by that disappointment. However, these were just fleeting feelings of annoyance that usually faded as quickly as they appeared and never really bothered the person who caused them, since he made sure to hide them from her completely.
Meanwhile she happily advanced in her reckoning, with the promise of a favourable issue: the term of her computation expired, and in the middle of the night she was visited by certain warnings that seemed to bespeak the approach of the critical moment. The commodore got up with great alacrity, and called the midwife, who had been several days in the house; the gossips were immediately summoned, and the most interesting expectations prevailed; but the symptoms of labour gradually vanished, and as the matrons sagely observed, this was no more than a false alarm.
Meanwhile, she joyfully continued with her calculations, hopeful for a positive outcome: the time for her evaluation was up, and in the middle of the night, she received certain signs that hinted at the arrival of a crucial moment. The commodore got up quickly and called the midwife, who had been staying in the house for several days; the neighbors were quickly gathered, and excitement filled the air with great expectations. However, the signs of labor slowly faded away, and as the women wisely noted, this was nothing more than a false alarm.
Two nights after they received a second intimation, and as she was sensibly diminished in the waist, everything was supposed to be in a fair way; yet this visitation was not more conclusive than the former; her pains wore off in spite of all her endeavours to encourage them, and the good women betook themselves to their respective homes, in expectation of finding the third attack decisive, alluding to the well-known maxim, that “number three is always fortunate.” For once, however, this apophthegm failed; the next call was altogether as ineffectual as the former; and moreover, attended with a phenomenon which to them was equally strange and inexplicable: this was no other than such a reduction in the size of Mrs. Trunnion as might have been expected after the birth of a full-grown child. Startled at such an unaccountable event, they sat in close divan; and concluding that the case was in all respects unnatural and prodigious, desired that a messenger might be immediately despatched for some male practitioner in the art of midwifery.
Two nights after they received a second notice, and as she appeared noticeably smaller in the waist, everything was thought to be going well; yet this occurrence was no more decisive than the last; her pains faded away despite all her efforts to encourage them, and the good women returned to their homes, expecting the third attack to be the turning point, referencing the well-known saying that "third time's the charm." However, for once, this saying did not hold true; the next visit was just as ineffective as the previous one and was accompanied by a phenomenon that was both strange and inexplicable to them: this was nothing less than a reduction in Mrs. Trunnion's size that one would expect after giving birth to a full-term baby. Alarmed by such an unusual event, they gathered closely together and, concluding that the situation was entirely unnatural and extraordinary, requested that a messenger be sent immediately for a male practitioner skilled in midwifery.
The commodore, without guessing the cause of her perplexity, ordered Pipes immediately on this piece of duty, and in less than two hours they were assisted by the advice of a surgeon of the neighbourhood, who boldly affirmed that the patient had never been with child. This asseveration was like a clap of thunder to Mr. Trunnion, who had been, during eight whole days and nights, in continual expectation of being hailed with the appellation of father.
The commodore, unaware of the reason for her confusion, immediately assigned Pipes to this task, and in less than two hours, they were joined by a local surgeon who confidently declared that the patient had never been pregnant. This statement hit Mr. Trunnion like a bolt of lightning, as he had spent eight entire days and nights waiting to be called a father.
After some recollection, he swore the surgeon was an ignorant fellow, and that he would not take his word for what he advanced, being comforted and confirmed in his want of faith by the insinuations of the midwife, who still persisted to feed Mrs. Trunnion with hopes of a speedy and safe delivery; observing that she had been concerned in many a case of the same nature, where a fine child was found, even after all signs of the mother's pregnancy had disappeared. Every twig of hope, how slender soever it may be, is eagerly caught hold on by people who find themselves in danger of being disappointed. To every question proposed by her to the lady, with the preambles of “Han't you?” or “Don't you?” answer was made in the affirmative, whether agreeable to truth or not, because the respondent could not find in her heart to disown any symptom that might favour the notion she had so long indulged.
After thinking it over, he was convinced the surgeon was clueless and that he wouldn’t take his word for what he said. He felt reassured in his doubt by the midwife’s suggestions, who continued to give Mrs. Trunnion hope for a quick and safe delivery. She pointed out that she had been involved in many similar cases where a healthy baby was born, even after all signs of the mother's pregnancy had vanished. Every glimmer of hope, no matter how small, is eagerly grasped by those who fear disappointment. To every question the midwife asked the lady, prefaced with “Haven’t you?” or “Don’t you?” the answer was always yes, regardless of the truth, because the woman couldn’t bring herself to deny any sign that might support the idea she had held onto for so long.
This experienced proficient in the obstetric art was therefore kept in close attendance for the space of three weeks, during which the patient had several returns of what she pleased herself with believing to be labour pains, till at length, she and her husband became the standing joke of the parish; and this infatuated couple could scarce be prevailed upon to part with their hope, even when she appeared as lank as a greyhound, and they were furnished with other unquestionable proofs of their having been deceived. But they could not for ever remain under the influence of this sweet delusion, which at last faded away, and was succeeded by a paroxysm of shame and confusion, that kept the husband within-doors for the space of a whole fortnight, and confined his lady to her bed for a series of weeks, during which she suffered all the anguish of the most intense mortification; yet even this was subdued by the lenient hand of time.
This experienced expert in obstetrics was kept nearby for three weeks, during which the patient had several moments where she convinced herself she was experiencing labor pains. Eventually, she and her husband became the running joke of the parish; this deluded couple could hardly be convinced to give up their hope, even when she looked as thin as a greyhound, and they had other clear evidence that they had been misled. However, they couldn’t stay under the influence of this comforting delusion forever, and it eventually faded away, leading to a wave of shame and embarrassment that kept the husband indoors for a full two weeks and left his wife confined to bed for many weeks, during which she endured all the pain of intense humiliation. Yet even that was eased by the gentle passage of time.
The first respite from her chagrin was employed in the strict discharge of what are called the duties of religion, which she performed with the most rancorous severity, setting on foot a persecution in her own family, that made the house too hot for all the menial servants, even ruffled the almost invincible indifference of Tom Pipes, harassed the commodore himself out of all patience, and spared no individual but Lieutenant Hatchway, whom she never ventured to disoblige.
The first break from her frustration was spent strictly following what are known as the duties of religion, which she carried out with intense severity, starting a persecution in her own family that made the house unbearable for all the servants, even annoyed the usually unbothered Tom Pipes, drove the commodore to his breaking point, and showed no mercy except to Lieutenant Hatchway, whom she never dared to upset.
CHAPTER XI.
Mrs. Trunnion erects a Tyranny in the Garrison, while her Husband conceives an affection for his Nephew Perry, who manifests a peculiarity of disposition even in his tender years.
Mrs. Trunnion sets up a dictatorship in the Garrison, while her husband develops a fondness for his nephew Perry, who shows an unusual personality even at a young age.
Having exercised herself three months in such pious amusements, she appeared again in the world; but her misfortune had made such an impression on her mind, that she could not bear the sight of a child, and trembled whenever conversation happened to turn upon a christening. Her temper, which was naturally none of the sweetest, seemed to have imbibed a double proportion of souring from her disappointment; of consequence, her company was not much coveted, and she found very few people disposed to treat her with those marks of consideration which she looked upon as her due. This neglect detached her from the society of an unmannerly world; she concentrated the energy of all her talents in the government of her own house, which groaned accordingly under her arbitrary sway; and in the brandy-bottle found ample consolation for all the affliction she had undergone.
After spending three months engaged in such religious activities, she reemerged into society; however, her misfortune had left a deep mark on her psyche, making it hard for her to tolerate the sight of a child, and she would flinch whenever the topic of a christening came up. Her temperament, which was never the sweetest, seemed to have taken on an even harsher edge due to her disappointment; as a result, people were not eager to spend time with her, and she encountered very few who were willing to show her the respect she believed she deserved. This rejection pushed her away from the company of a rude world; she focused all her energy on managing her own home, which suffered under her strict control, and she found considerable comfort in the bottle of brandy to cope with all the pain she had endured.
As for the commodore, he in a little time weathered his disgrace, after having sustained many severe jokes from the lieutenant, and now his chief aim being to be absent from his own house as much as possible, he frequented the public-house more than ever, more assiduously cultivated the friendship of his brother-in-law, Mr. Pickle, and in the course of their intimacy conceived an affection for his nephew Perry, which did not end but with his life. Indeed it must be owned that Trunnion was not naturally deficient in the social passions of the soul, which though they were strangely warped, disguised, and overborne by the circumstance of his boisterous life and education, did not fail to manifest themselves occasionally through the whole course of his behaviour.
As for the commodore, he quickly bounced back from his embarrassment after enduring a lot of harsh jokes from the lieutenant. Now, his main goal was to stay away from his own home as much as possible, so he drank at the pub more than ever and worked hard to maintain his friendship with his brother-in-law, Mr. Pickle. During their time together, he developed a deep affection for his nephew Perry that lasted until the end of his life. It must be said that Trunnion wasn't naturally lacking in social feelings, which, although twisted and suppressed by his rough lifestyle and upbringing, still occasionally showed through in his behavior.
As all the hopes of propagating his own name had perished, and his relations lay under the interdiction of his hate, it is no wonder that through the familiarity and friendly intercourse subsisting between him and Mr. Gamaliel, he contracted a liking for the boy, who by this time entered the third year of his age, and was indeed a very handsome, healthy, and promising child; and what seemed to ingratiate him still more with his uncle, was a certain oddity of disposition, for which he had been remarkable even from his cradle. It is reported of him, that before the first year of his infancy was elapsed, he used very often, immediately after being dressed, in the midst of the caresses which were bestowed upon him by his mother, while she indulged herself in the contemplation of her own happiness, all of a sudden to alarm her with a fit of shrieks and cries, which continued with great violence till he was stripped to the skin with the utmost expedition by order of his affrighted parent, who thought his tender body was tortured by the misapplication of some unlucky pill; and when he had given them all this disturbance and unnecessary trouble, he would lie sprawling and laughing in their faces, as if he ridiculed the impertinence of their concern. Nay, it is affirmed, that one day, when an old woman who attended in the nursery had by stealth conveyed a bottle of cordial waters to her mouth, he pulled his nurse by the sleeve, by a slight glance detected the theft, and tipped her the wink with a particular slyness of countenance, as if he had said, with a sneer, “Ay, ay, that is what you must all come to.” But these instances of reflection in a babe nine months old are so incredible, that I look upon them as observations, founded upon imaginary recollection, when he was in a more advanced age, and his peculiarities of temper became much more remarkable; of a piece with the ingenious discoveries of those sagacious observers, who can discern something evidently characteristic in the features of any noted personage whose character they have previously heard explained. Yet without pretending to specify at what period of his childhood this singularity first appeared, I can with great truth declare, that when he first attracted the notice and affection of his uncle, it was plainly perceivable.
As all his hopes of making a name for himself had faded, and with his family estranged by his animosity, it's no surprise that the close friendship he developed with Mr. Gamaliel led him to take a liking to the boy, who had just turned three. The child was quite handsome, healthy, and showed great promise; what endeared him even more to his uncle was his quirky personality that had been evident since infancy. It's said that before he was even a year old, he would often scream and cry suddenly after being dressed, startling his mother, who was lost in her own happiness. The outbursts would only stop when she hurriedly stripped him down, fearing he was suffering from some mishap. After causing all that commotion, he would grin and laugh at them as if he found their worry amusing. There's even a story about how one day, an old woman in the nursery secretly sipped from a bottle of cordial. The boy caught her, tugged at his nurse’s sleeve, and gave her a sly look, as if to say, “Yeah, that’s what you all are coming to.” However, these accounts of a nine-month-old's cleverness seem too incredible to be true; I suspect they’re memories imagined later on when his unusual traits became more prominent—much like astute observers who claim to recognize defining features in famous people they’ve only heard about. Without pinpointing when this uniqueness first emerged in his childhood, I can truthfully say that when he first caught his uncle's attention and affection, it was clearly evident.
One would imagine he had marked out the commodore as a proper object of ridicule, for almost all his little childish satire was leveled against him. I will not deny that he might have been influenced in this particular by the example and instruction of Mr. Hatchway, who delighted in superintending the first essays of his genius. As the gout had taken up its residence in Mr. Trunnion's great toe, from whence it never removed, no not for a day, little Perry took great pleasure in treading by accident on this infirm member; and when his uncle, incensed by the pain, used to damn him for a hell-begotten brat, he would appease him in a twinkling, by returning the curse with equal emphasis, and asking what was the matter with old Hannibal Tough? an appellation by which the lieutenant had taught him to distinguish this grim commander.
One would think he had singled out the commodore as a prime target for mockery, because almost all his little childish jabs were aimed at him. I won't deny that he might have been influenced in this by Mr. Hatchway, who took great pleasure in overseeing the early development of his talent. Since gout had made itself at home in Mr. Trunnion's big toe and never left, not even for a day, little Perry took great delight in accidentally stepping on this sore spot. When his uncle, furious from the pain, would curse him as a hellish brat, he would quickly calm him down by returning the insult just as strongly and asking what was up with old Hannibal Tough?—a nickname the lieutenant had taught him to use for this stern commander.
Neither was this the only experiment he tried upon the patience of the commodore, with whose nose he used to take indecent freedoms, even. while he was fondled on his knee. In one month he put him to the expense of two guineas in seal-skin; by picking his pocket of divers tobacco-pouches, all of which he in secret committed to the flames. Nor did the caprice of his disposition abstain from the favourite beverage of Trunnion, who more than once swallowed a whole draught in which his brother's snuff-box had been emptied, before he perceived the disagreeable infusion; and one day, when the commodore had chastised him by a gentle tap with his cane, he fell flat on the floor as if he had been deprived of all sense and motion, to the terror and amazement of the striker; and after having filled the whole house with confusion and dismay, opened his eyes, and laughed heartily at the success of his own imposition.
He didn't stop there with the experiments he put the commodore through, even going so far as to be inappropriate with his nose while he was sitting on his knee. In just one month, he cost the commodore two guineas in seal-skin by swiping his tobacco pouches, which he secretly burned. His unpredictable nature also targeted Trunnion's favorite drink; more than once, Trunnion ended up swallowing an entire drink that had been emptied of his brother's snuff, only realizing the unpleasant mix afterward. One day, after the commodore gave him a light tap with his cane, he suddenly collapsed on the floor as if he had lost all sense and movement, shocking and confusing the commodore. After causing chaos and alarm throughout the house, he finally opened his eyes and laughed heartily at how well his trick had worked.
It would be an endless and perhaps no very agreeable task, to enumerate all the unlucky pranks he played upon his uncle and others, before he attained the fourth year of his age; about which time he was sent, with an attendant, to a day-school in the neighbourhood, that (to use his good mother's own expression) he might be out of harm's way. Here, however, he made little progress, except in mischief, which he practised with impunity, because the school-mistress would run no risk of disobliging a lady of fortune, by exercising unnecessary severities upon her only child. Nevertheless, Mrs. Pickle was not so blindly partial as to be pleased with such unseasonable indulgence. Perry was taken out of the hands of this courteous teacher, and committed to the instruction of a pedagogue, who was ordered to administer such correction as the boy should in his opinion deserve. This authority he did not neglect to use, his pupil was regularly flogged twice a day; and after having been subjected to this course of discipline for the space of eighteen months, declared the most obstinate, dull, and untoward genius that ever had fallen under his cultivation; instead of being reformed, he seemed rather hardened and confirmed in his vicious inclinations, and was dead to all sense of fear as well as shame.
It would be an endless and possibly not very pleasant task to list all the unlucky pranks he pulled on his uncle and others before he turned four. Around that time, he was sent with an attendant to a local day school so that, as his good mother put it, he could be kept safe. However, he made little progress there, except in causing trouble, which he got away with because the schoolmistress didn't want to risk upsetting a wealthy lady by being too harsh on her only child. Still, Mrs. Pickle wasn't so blindly partial that she approved of such inappropriate leniency. Perry was taken from this accommodating teacher and put under the care of a strict educator, who was instructed to give him whatever punishment he deemed necessary. He certainly didn't hesitate to do that; his student was regularly whipped twice a day. After enduring this strict regime for eighteen months, the teacher declared him to be the most stubborn, dull, and difficult child he had ever encountered. Instead of improving, Perry seemed to become even more hardened in his bad behavior, and he was completely indifferent to any sense of fear or shame.
His mother was extremely mortified at these symptoms of stupidity, which she considered as an inheritance derived from the spirit of his father, and consequently insurmountable by all the efforts of human care. But the commodore rejoiced over the ruggedness of his nature, and was particularly pleased when, upon inquiry, he found that Perry had beaten all the boys in the school; a circumstance from which he prognosticated everything that was fair and fortunate in his future fate: observing, that at his age he himself was just such another. The boy, who was now turned of six, having profited so little under the birch of his unsparing governor, Mrs. Pickle was counselled to send him to a boarding-school not far from London, which was kept by a certain person very eminent for his successful method of education. This advice she the more readily embraced, because at that time she found herself pretty far gone with another child that she hoped would console her for the disappointment she had met with in the unpromising talents of Perry, or at any rate divide her concern, so as to enable her to endure the absence of either.
His mother was really embarrassed by these signs of ignorance, which she thought were inherited from his father’s spirit and could not be overcome by any amount of care. But the commodore was pleased with his tough nature and was especially happy when he found out that Perry had beaten all the boys in school; he saw this as a sign of a bright and fortunate future for him, noting that at Perry's age, he had been just like that. Now over six years old, the boy had gained little from the harsh discipline of his strict teacher, so Mrs. Pickle was advised to send him to a boarding school not far from London, run by a well-known educator famous for his successful teaching methods. She was more than happy to take this advice since she was also expecting another child, whom she hoped would make up for her disappointment in Perry’s lack of talent or at least help her manage her feelings about either child’s absence.
CHAPTER XII.
Peregrine is sent to a boarding-school—Becomes remarkable for his Genius and Ambition.
Peregrine is sent to a boarding school—He stands out for his talent and drive.
The commodore, understanding her determination, to which her husband did not venture to make the least objection, interested himself so much in behalf of his favourite, as to fit him out at his own charge, and accompany him in person to the place of his destination; where he defrayed the expense of his entrance, and left him to the particular care and inspection of the usher, who having been recommended to him as a person of parts and integrity, received per advance a handsome consideration for the task he undertook.
The commodore, recognizing her determination, which her husband didn't even try to contest, took a keen interest in his favorite. He covered the expenses himself and personally accompanied him to his destination, where he paid for his entrance and entrusted him to the care and supervision of the usher. This usher, having been recommended to him as a capable and trustworthy individual, received a generous advance for the responsibilities he was taking on.
Nothing could be better judged than this piece of liberality; the assistant was actually a man of learning, probity, and good sense; and though obliged by the scandalous administration of fortune to act in the character of an inferior teacher, had, by his sole capacity and application, brought the school to that degree of reputation, which it never could have obtained from the talents of its superior. He had established an economy, which, though regular, was not at all severe, by enacting a body of laws suited to the age and comprehension of every individual; and each transgressor was fairly tried by his peers, and punished according to the verdict of the jury. No boy was scourged for want of apprehension, but a spirit of emulation was raised by well-timed praise and artful comparison, and maintained by a distribution of small prizes, which were adjudged to those who signalized themselves either by their industry, sobriety, or genius.
Nothing could better illustrate this act of generosity; the assistant was truly a knowledgeable, trustworthy, and sensible man. Even though he was forced by the unfairness of fate to work as a junior teacher, he brought the school to a level of respectability that it could never have achieved without his skills and dedication. He established a system that was organized but not harsh, creating rules that were appropriate for the age and understanding of every student; each violator was judged fairly by their peers and punished based on the jury's decision. No boy was punished for simply not understanding, but a sense of competition was fostered through timely praise and clever comparisons, and it was maintained by awarding small prizes to those who excelled in hard work, self-control, or talent.
This tutor, whose name was Jennings, began with Perry, according to his constant maxim, by examining the soil; that is, studying his temper, in order to consult the bias of his disposition, which was strangely perverted by the absurd discipline he had undergone. He found him in a state of sullen insensibility, which the child had gradually contracted in a long course of stupefying correction; and at first he was not in the least actuated by that commendation which animated the rest of his school-fellows; nor was it in the power of reproach to excite his ambition, which had been buried, as it were, in the grave of disgrace; the usher, therefore, had recourse to contemptuous neglect, with which he affected to treat this stubborn spirit; foreseeing that if he retained any seeds of sentiment, this weather would infallibly raise them into vegetation; his judgment was justified by the event; the boy in a little time began to make observations; he perceived the marks of distinction with which virtue was rewarded, grew ashamed of the despicable figure he himself made among his companions, who, far from courting, rather shunned his conversation, and actually pined at his own want of importance.
This tutor, named Jennings, started with Perry, following his usual principle, by examining the foundation; that is, assessing his temperament to understand his disposition, which had been oddly twisted by the ridiculous discipline he had experienced. He found Perry in a state of gloomy indifference, a result of prolonged, mind-numbing correction; initially, he showed none of the enthusiasm that motivated his classmates; nor could insults spark his ambition, which seemed buried in disgrace. Therefore, Jennings resorted to treating him with dismissive neglect, believing that if Perry had any flicker of feeling left, this approach would surely stir it to life. His judgment was confirmed when, after a while, the boy began to observe his surroundings differently; he noticed the recognition that virtue received, felt embarrassed by how pitiable he appeared among his peers, who not only ignored him but actively avoided his company, leaving him to feel insignificant.
Mr. Jennings saw and rejoiced at his mortification, which he suffered to proceed as far as possible, without endangering his health. The child lost all relish for diversion, loathed his food, grew pensive, solitary, and was frequently found weeping by himself. These symptoms plainly evinced the recovery of his feelings, to which his governor thought it now high time to make application; and therefore by little and little altered his behaviour from the indifference he had put on, to the appearance of more regard and attention. This produced a favourable change in the boy, whose eyes sparkled with satisfaction one day, when his master expressed himself, with a show of surprise, in these words: “So, Perry! I find you don't want genius, when you think proper to use it.” Such encomiums kindled the spirit of emulation in his little breast; he exerted himself with surprising alacrity, by which he soon acquitted himself of the imputation of dullness, and obtained sundry honorary silver pennies, as acknowledgments of his application; his school-fellows now solicited his friendship as eagerly as they had avoided it before; and in less than a twelvemonth after his arrival, this supposed dunce was remarkable for the brightness of his parts; having in that short period learnt to read English perfectly well, made great progress in writing, enabled himself to speak the French language without hesitation, and acquired some knowledge in the rudiments of the Latin tongue. The usher did not fail to transmit an account of his proficiency to the commodore, who received it with transport, and forthwith communicated the happy tidings to the parents.
Mr. Jennings saw and took pleasure in the boy's embarrassment, which he allowed to continue as long as it didn't harm his health. The child lost all interest in games, hated his food, became withdrawn, and was often found crying alone. These signs clearly showed that he was regaining his feelings, and his teacher thought it was time to step in. Gradually, he shifted his behavior from indifference to showing more care and attention. This brought about a positive change in the boy, whose eyes lit up with satisfaction one day when his teacher said, with a hint of surprise, “So, Perry! I see you do have talent when you choose to use it.” Such praise ignited a competitive spirit in him; he worked hard and quickly proved he wasn't dull, earning several silver pennies as recognition for his efforts. His classmates now sought his friendship with the same enthusiasm they had previously shown in avoiding him. Less than a year after he arrived, this supposed slowpoke became known for his intelligence. In that short time, he learned to read English very well, made significant progress in writing, became fluent in French, and picked up some basics of Latin. The teacher made sure to inform the commodore of his progress, who received the news with delight and immediately shared the happy news with the boy's parents.
Mr. Gamaliel Pickle, who was never subject to violent emotions, heard them with a sort of phlegmatic satisfaction, that scarce manifested itself either in his countenance or expressions; nor did the child's mother break forth into that rapture and admiration which might have been expected, when she understood how much the talents of her first-born had exceeded the hope of her warmest imagination. Not but that she professed herself well pleased with Perry's reputation; though she observed that in these commendations the truth was always exaggerated by schoolmasters, for their own interest; and pretended to wonder that the usher had not mingled more probability with his praise. Trunnion was offended at her indifference and want of faith and believing that she refined too much in her discernment, swore that Jennings had declared the truth, and nothing but the truth; for he himself had prophesied, from the beginning, that the boy would turn out a credit to his family. But by this time Mrs. Pickle was blessed with a daughter, whom she had brought into the world about six months before the intelligence arrived; so that her care and affection being otherwise engrossed, the praise of Perry was the less greedily devoured. The abatement of her fondness was an advantage to his education, which would have been retarded, and perhaps ruined, by pernicious indulgence, and preposterous interposition, had her love considered him as an only child; whereas her concern being now diverted to another object, that shared, at least, one-half of her affection, he was left to the management of his preceptor, who tutored him according to his own plan, without any let or interruption. Indeed all his sagacity and circumspection were but barely sufficient to keep the young gentleman in order; for now that he had won the palm of victory from his rivals in point of scholarship, his ambition dilated, and he was seized with the desire of subjecting the whole school by the valour of his arm. Before he could bring his project to bear, innumerable battles were fought with various success; every day a bloody nose and complaint were presented against him, and his own visage commonly bore some livid marks of obstinate contention. At length, however, he accomplished his aim; his adversaries were subdued, his prowess acknowledged, and he obtained the laurel in war as well as in wit. Thus triumphant, he was intoxicated with success: his pride rose in proportion to his power and, in spite of all the endeavours of Jennings, who practised every method he could invent for curbing his licentious conduct, without depressing his spirit, he contracted a large proportion of insolence, which series of misfortunes that happened to him in the sequel could scarce effectually tame. Nevertheless there was a fund of good nature and generosity in his composition; and though he established a tyranny among his comrades, the tranquility of his reign was maintained by the love rather than by the fear of his subjects.
Mr. Gamaliel Pickle, who was never really prone to strong emotions, took in the news with a sort of calm satisfaction that barely showed on his face or in his words. Nor did the child's mother react with the joy and admiration you might expect when she learned just how much her firstborn had surpassed her highest hopes. She claimed to be pleased with Perry's reputation, but pointed out that schoolmasters always exaggerated the truth for their own gain; she even feigned surprise that the assistant hadn’t mixed in more reality with his compliments. Trunnion was offended by her indifference and lack of faith, believing that she was overly critical, and insisted that Jennings had spoken only the truth; he had believed from the start that the boy would bring credit to his family. By this point, Mrs. Pickle had also welcomed a daughter, born about six months before the good news arrived. With her attention mostly on her new child, her enthusiasm for Perry’s accolades was somewhat diminished. This reduction in her affection benefitted his education, which could have been hindered or even ruined by overindulgence if she had viewed him as her only child. Instead, with her attention now divided, at least half of her affection went to the new baby, allowing his tutor to manage his education according to his own plan without any interference. In fact, all of Jennings’ wisdom and caution were barely enough to keep the young gentleman in line; now that he had outshone his classmates in academics, his ambition grew, and he became determined to conquer the entire school through physical prowess. Before he could execute his plans, countless fights ensued with varying results; each day he came home with a bloody nose and complaints against him, and his own face usually showed some bruises from stubborn clashes. Eventually, though, he achieved his goal; his rivals were defeated, his bravery acknowledged, and he earned accolades in both battle and brains. With this victory, he became intoxicated with success: his pride swelled along with his power, and despite all Jennings’ attempts to rein in his reckless behavior while keeping his spirits high, he developed a significant amount of arrogance that a series of setbacks later on could hardly tame. Nonetheless, there was a core of good-naturedness and generosity within him; and although he established a reign of terror among his peers, the peace of his rule was maintained more by their affection than by fear.
In the midst of all this enjoyment of empire he never once violated that respectful awe with which the usher had found means to inspire him; but he by no means preserved the same regard for the principal master, an old illiterate German quack, who had formerly practised corn-cutting among the quality, and sold cosmetic washes to the ladies, together with teeth-powders, hair-dyeing liquors, prolific elixirs, and tinctures to sweeten the breath. These nostrums, recommended by the art of cringing, in which he was consummate, ingratiated him so much with people of fashion, that he was enabled to set up school with five-and-twenty boys of the best families, whom he boarded on his own terms and undertook to instruct in the French and Latin languages, so as to qualify them for the colleges of Westminster and Eton. While this plan was in its infancy, he was so fortunate as to meet with Jennings, who, for the paltry consideration of thirty pounds a year, which his necessities compelled him to accept, took the whole trouble of educating the children upon himself, contrived an excellent system for that purpose, and, by his assiduity and knowledge, executed all the particulars to the entire satisfaction of those concerned, who, by the bye, never inquired into his qualifications, but suffered the other to enjoy the fruits of his labour and ingenuity.
In the middle of all this enjoyment of power, he never once broke the respectful admiration that the usher had managed to instill in him; however, he definitely didn’t feel the same respect for the headmaster, an old, uneducated German charlatan who had once practiced corn-cutting among the elite and sold beauty products to women, including teeth powders, hair dye, fertility potions, and breath fresheners. These remedies, promoted through his skillful flattery, won him so much favor with fashionable people that he was able to start a school with twenty-five boys from the best families, whom he housed on his own terms and promised to teach French and Latin to prepare them for Westminster and Eton. While this plan was still getting started, he was lucky enough to meet Jennings, who, for the meager sum of thirty pounds a year, which he had to accept due to his circumstances, took on the entire responsibility of teaching the children himself, came up with an excellent system for that purpose, and, through his hard work and expertise, carried out everything to the complete satisfaction of those involved, who incidentally, never questioned his qualifications, but let the other enjoy the benefits of his efforts and talent.
Over and above a large stock of avarice, ignorance, and vanity, this superior had certain ridiculous peculiarities in his person, such as a hunch upon his back, and distorted limbs, that seemed to attract the satirical notice of Peregrine, who, young as he was, took offence at his want of reverence for his usher, over whom he sometimes chose opportunities of displaying his authority, that the boys might not misplace their veneration. Mr. Keypstick, therefore, such as I have described him, incurred the contempt and displeasure of this enterprising pupil, who now being in the tenth year of his age, had capacity enough to give him abundance of vexation. He underwent many mortifying jokes front the invention of Pickle and his confederates; so that he began to entertain suspicion of Mr. Jennings, who he could not help thinking had been at the bottom of them all, and spirited up principles of rebellion in the school, with a view of making himself independent. Possessed with this chimera, which was void of all foundation, the German descended so low as to tamper in private with the boys, from whom he hoped to draw some very important discovery; but he was disappointed in his expectations; and this mean practice reaching the ears of his usher, he voluntarily resigned his employment. Finding interest to obtain holy orders in a little time after, he left the kingdom, hoping to find a settlement in some of our American plantations.
Beyond having a huge amount of greed, ignorance, and vanity, this supervisor had some amusing quirks, like a hunch on his back and twisted limbs, which caught the mocking attention of Peregrine. Despite his young age, Peregrine was offended by the supervisor's lack of respect towards his assistant, occasionally seizing chances to assert his authority so the boys wouldn't wrongly direct their admiration. Mr. Keypstick, as I described him, faced the disdain and anger of this ambitious student, who, now ten years old, had enough intelligence to give him plenty of trouble. He endured many humiliating pranks from Pickle and his friends; as a result, he began to suspect Mr. Jennings, whom he couldn't help but think was behind all the schemes, stirring up rebellion in the school to make himself independent. Obsessed with this unfounded idea, the German stooped to secretly plotting with the boys, hoping to extract some significant information from them; however, he was let down by his expectations. When this underhanded behavior came to the usher's ears, he chose to resign from his position. Shortly after, he found a chance to obtain holy orders and left the country, hoping to settle in one of our American plantations.
The departure of Mr. Jennings produced a great revolution in the affairs of Keypstick, which declined from that moment, because he had neither authority to enforce obedience, nor prudence to maintain order among his scholars: so that the school degenerated into anarchy and confusion, and he himself dwindled in the opinion of his employers, who looked upon him as superannuated, and withdrew their children front his tuition.
The departure of Mr. Jennings caused a major shift in the operations of Keypstick, which started to decline from that point on, as he had no authority to enforce rules or the judgment to keep order among his students. As a result, the school fell into chaos and disorder, and he himself lost credibility with his employers, who viewed him as outdated and pulled their children out of his classes.
Peregrine seeing this dissolution of their society, and finding himself every day deprived of some companion, began to repine at his situation, and resolved, if possible, to procure his release from the jurisdiction of the person whom he both detested and despised. With this view he went to work, and composed the following billet, addressed to the commodore, which was the first specimen of his composition in the epistolary way:—
Peregrine, witnessing the downfall of their community and losing a friend each day, started to feel frustrated with his situation. He decided that he would try to free himself from the control of the person he both hated and looked down on. With this goal in mind, he set to work and wrote the following note to the commodore, which was his first attempt at writing a letter:—
“Honoured and Loving Uncle,—Hoping you are in good health,
this serves to inform you, that Mr. Jennings is gone, and
Mr. Keypstick will never meet with his fellow. The school
is already almost broke up, and the rest daily going away;
and I beg of you of all love to have me fetched away also,
for I cannot bear to be any longer under one who is a perfect
ignoramus, who scarce knows the declination of musa, and is
more fit to be a scarecrow than a schoolmaster; hoping you
will send for me soon, with my love to my aunt, and my duty
to my honoured parents, craving their blessing and yours. And
this is all at present from, honoured uncle, your well-beloved
and dutiful nephew and godson, and humble servant to command
till death,
“Peregrine Pickle.”
“Dear Uncle,—I hope you’re doing well. I’m writing to let you know that Mr. Jennings has left, and Mr. Keypstick will never equal him. The school is nearly closed, and more students are leaving every day. I kindly ask you to come and get me too, as I can't stand being under someone so ignorant, who barely knows the basics and is more suited to be a scarecrow than a teacher. I hope you can send for me soon. Please give my love to Aunt and my respects to my dear parents, asking for their blessing and yours. That's all for now from your loving and obedient nephew and godson, and humble servant at your service until death,
“Peregrine Pickle.”Trunnion was overjoyed at the receipt of this letter, which he looked upon as one of the greatest efforts of human genius, and as such communicated the contents to his lady, whom he had disturbed for the purpose in the middle of her devotion, by sending a message to her closet, whither it was her custom very frequently to retire. She was out of humour at being interrupted, and therefore did not peruse this specimen of her nephew's understanding with all the relish that the commodore himself had enjoyed; on the contrary, after sundry paralytical endeavours to speak (for her tongue sometimes refused its office), she observed that the boy was a pert jackanapes, and deserved to be severely chastised for treating his betters with such disrespect. Her husband undertook his godson's defence, representing with great warmth that he knew Keypstick to be a good-for-nothing pimping old rascal, and that Perry showed a great deal of spirit and good sense in desiring to be taken from under his command; he therefore declared that the boy should not live a week longer with such a shambling son of a b—, and sanctioned this declaration with abundance of oaths.
Trunnion was thrilled to receive this letter, which he viewed as one of the greatest examples of human creativity. He shared its contents with his lady, whom he interrupted during her prayers by sending a message to her private space, where she often retreated. She was annoyed at the interruption and didn't appreciate her nephew's writing as much as the commodore did. Instead, after struggling to find her words (since her speech sometimes failed her), she remarked that the boy was a sassy little brat and deserved a serious punishment for being disrespectful to his superiors. Her husband jumped to his godson's defense, passionately arguing that he knew Keypstick was a useless, conniving old creep and that Perry showed a lot of spirit and common sense by wanting to escape his authority. He insisted that the boy shouldn't stay with such a shambling son of a b— for another week, punctuating his statement with plenty of curses.
Mrs. Trunnion, composing her countenance into a look of religious demureness, rebuked him for his profane way of talking; and asked, in a magisterial tone, if he intended never to lay aside that brutal behaviour. Irritated at this reproach, he answered, in terms of indignation, that he knew how to behave himself as well as e'er a woman that wore a head, bade her mind her affairs, and with another repetition of oaths gave her to understand that he would be master in his own house.
Mrs. Trunnion, putting on a serious and pious expression, scolded him for his disrespectful language and asked, in a commanding tone, if he ever planned to stop his harsh behavior. Annoyed by this criticism, he replied, with indignation, that he knew how to conduct himself just as well as any woman, told her to mind her own business, and with another round of curses made it clear that he would be in charge of his own home.
The insinuation operated upon her spirits like friction upon a glass globe: her face gleamed with resentment, and every pore seemed to emit particles of flame. She replied with incredible fluency of the bitterest expressions: he retorted equal rage in broken hints and incoherent imprecations: she rejoined with redoubled fury; and in conclusion he was fain to betake himself to flight, ejaculating curses against her; and muttering something concerning the brandy-bottle, which, however, he took care should never reach her ears.
The suggestion affected her mood like rubbing a glass globe: her face shone with anger, and every pore seemed to emit sparks. She responded with an impressive flow of the harshest words; he shot back with equal fury in fragmented comments and incoherent curses. She answered with even more rage; and in the end, he was forced to retreat, shouting curses at her and mumbling something about the bottle of brandy, though he made sure she never heard it.
From his own house he went directly to visit Mrs. Pickle, to whom he imparted Peregrine's epistle, with many encomiums upon the boy's promising parts: and, finding his commendations but coolly received, desired she would permit him to take his godson under his own care.
From his own house, he went straight to visit Mrs. Pickle, to whom he shared Peregrine's letter, praising the boy's promising qualities. However, when he noticed that his compliments were met with a lukewarm response, he requested her permission to take his godson under his wing.
This lady, whose family was now increased by another son, who seemed to engross her care for the present, had not seen Perry during a course of four years, and, with regard to him, was perfectly weaned of that infirmity known by the name of maternal fondness: she therefore consented to the commodore's request with great condescension, and a polite compliment to him on the concern he had all along manifested for the welfare of the child.
This woman, whose family now included another son who seemed to take up all her attention for the time being, hadn’t seen Perry in four years. As far as he was concerned, she had completely shed that weakness known as maternal affection. So, she agreed to the commodore’s request with great grace and offered him a polite compliment for his ongoing concern for the child's well-being.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Commodore takes Peregrine under his own care—The Boy arrives at the Garrison—Is strangely received by his own Mother—Enters into a Confederacy with Hatchway and Pipes, and executes a couple of waggish Enterprises upon his Aunt.
The Commodore looks after Peregrine himself—The Boy shows up at the Garrison—Is greeted in a strange way by his own Mother—Joins forces with Hatchway and Pipes, and pulls off a couple of funny pranks on his Aunt.
Trunnion having obtained this permission, that very afternoon despatched the lieutenant in a post-chaise to Keypstick's house, from whence in two days he returned with our young hero, who being now in the eleventh year of his age, had outgrown the expectation of all his family, and was remarkable for the beauty and elegance of his person. His godfather was transported at his arrival, as if he had been actually the issue of his own loins: he shook him heartily by the hand, turned him round and round, surveyed him from top to bottom, bade Hatchway take notice how handsomely he was built; and squeezed his hand again, saying,—“D— ye, you dog, I suppose you don't value such an old crazy son of a b— as me a rope's end. You have forgot how I was wont to dandle you on my knee, when you was a little urchin no bigger than a davit, and played a thousand tricks upon me, burning my 'bacco-pouches and poisoning my rumbo. O! d— ye, you can grin fast enough I see; I warrant you have learnt more things than writing and the Latin lingo.”
Trunnion, having received this permission, that very afternoon sent the lieutenant in a coach to Keypstick's house, from where he returned two days later with our young hero, who at this point was in his eleventh year and had surpassed what everyone in his family expected of him. He was notable for the beauty and elegance of his appearance. His godfather was overjoyed at his arrival, as if he were actually his own child: he shook his hand warmly, turned him around, looked him over from head to toe, told Hatchway to notice how well-built he was, and squeezed his hand again, saying, “Damn you, you rascal, I bet you don’t think much of an old, crazy man like me. You’ve forgotten how I used to bounce you on my knee when you were just a little squirt, playing all sorts of tricks on me, burning my tobacco pouches and ruining my rum. Oh! Damn you, I see you can grin well enough; I bet you’ve learned more than just writing and Latin.”
Even Tom Pipes expressed uncommon satisfaction on this joyful occasion; and, coming up to Perry, thrust forth his fore paw, and accosted him with the salutation of “What cheer, my young master? I am glad to see thee with all my heart.” These compliments being passed, his uncle halted to the door of his wife's chamber, at which he stood hallooing, “Here's your kinsman, Perry: belike you won't come and bid him welcome.”—“Lord, Mr. Trunnion,” said she, “why will you continually harass me in this manner with your impertinent intrusion?”—“I harrow you!” replied the commodore: “'sblood! I believe your upper works are damaged: I only came to inform you that here was your cousin, whom you have not seen these four long years; and I'll be d—d if there is such another of his age within the king's dominions, d'ye see, either for make or mettle: he's a credit to the name, d'ye see: but, d— my eyes, I'll say no more of the matter: if you come, you may; if you won't, you may let it alone.”—“Well, I won't come, then,” answered his yoke-fellow, “for I am at present more agreeably employed.”—“Oho! you are. I believe so too,” cried the commodore, making wry faces and mimicking the action of dram-drinking. Then, addressing himself to Hatchway, “Prithee, Jack,” said he, “go and try thy skill on that stubborn hulk: if anybody can bring her about, I know you wool.”
Even Tom Pipes showed rare happiness on this joyful occasion; and, walking up to Perry, extended his hand, greeting him with, “What’s up, my young master? I’m really glad to see you.” After exchanging pleasantries, his uncle stopped at the door of his wife’s room and shouted, “Here’s your cousin, Perry: you should come and welcome him.” —“Goodness, Mr. Trunnion,” she replied, “why do you keep bothering me with your annoying interruptions?” —“Bother you!” said the commodore. “Blast it! I think your mind might be wandering: I just came to tell you that your cousin is here, and you haven’t seen him in four long years; and I’ll be damned if there’s anyone his age in the entire kingdom like him, either in looks or spirit: he’s a credit to the family, you see: but, damn my eyes, I won’t say more about it: if you want to come, you can; if not, that’s fine too.” —“Well, I won’t come, then,” answered his wife, “because I’m currently busy with something much more pleasant.” —“Oh! You are, huh? I believe that too,” exclaimed the commodore, making faces and pretending to drink. Then, turning to Hatchway, he said, “Come on, Jack, go and see if you can handle that stubborn hulk: if anyone can get her to cooperate, I know it’s you.”
The lieutenant accordingly, taking his station at the door, conveyed his persuasion in these words: “What, won't you turn out and hail little Perry? It will do your heart good to see such a handsome young dog; I'm sure he is the very moral of you, and as like as if he had been spit out of your own mouth, as the saying is: do show a little respect for your kinsman, can't you?” To this remonstrance she replied, in a mild tone of voice, “Dear Mr. Hatchway, you are always teasing one in such a manner: sure I am, nobody can tax me with unkindness, or want of natural affection.” So saying, she opened the door, and, advancing to the hall where her nephew stood, received him very graciously and observed that he was the very image of her papa.
The lieutenant, standing by the door, expressed his persuasion like this: “What, won’t you come out and greet little Perry? It’ll warm your heart to see such a handsome young guy; I’m sure he looks just like you, as if he had been spit out of your own mouth, as the saying goes: show a little respect for your relative, can’t you?” In response, she replied in a gentle tone, “Dear Mr. Hatchway, you always tease me like this: I’m sure no one can say I’m unkind or lack natural affection.” With that, she opened the door and walked over to the hall where her nephew was standing, welcomed him warmly, and commented that he was the spitting image of her dad.
In the afternoon he was conducted by the commodore to the house of his parents; and, strange to tell, no sooner was he presented to his mother, than her countenance changed, she eyed him with tokens of affliction and surprise, and, bursting into tears, exclaimed her child was dead, and this was no other than an impostor whom they had brought to defraud her sorrow. Trunnion was confounded at this unaccountable passion, which had no other foundation than caprice and whim; and Gamaliel himself was so disconcerted and unsettled in his own belief, which began to waver, that he knew not how to behave towards the boy, whom his godfather immediately carried back to the garrison, swearing all the way that Perry should never cross their threshold again with his good-will. Nay, so much was he incensed at this unnatural and absurd renunciation, that he refused to carry on any further correspondence with Pickle, until he was appeased by his solicitations and submission, and Peregrine owned as his son and heir. But this acknowledgment was made without the privity of his wife, whose vicious aversion he was obliged, in appearance, to adopt. Thus exiled from his father's house, the young gentleman was left entirely to the disposal of the commodore, whose affection for him daily increased, insomuch that he could scarcely prevail upon himself to part with him, when his education absolutely required that he should be otherwise disposed of.
In the afternoon, the commodore took him to his parents' house; and, oddly enough, as soon as he was introduced to his mother, her expression changed. She looked at him with signs of distress and disbelief, and, bursting into tears, shouted that her child was dead and that this was just an imposter brought in to deceive her in her grief. Trunnion was baffled by this strange outburst, which seemed to stem from nothing but whim and fancy; even Gamaliel felt so thrown off that his own beliefs started to waver, leaving him unsure how to treat the boy. His godfather immediately took him back to the garrison, swearing along the way that Perry would never step foot in their home again with his blessing. In fact, he was so angry about this unnatural and ridiculous rejection that he refused to continue any communication with Pickle until he was calmed down by his pleas for forgiveness and acknowledgment of Peregrine as his son and heir. However, this recognition was made without his wife's knowledge, as he felt he had to outwardly conform to her evident disdain. Thus, banished from his father's house, the young man was completely left to the care of the commodore, whose affection for him grew stronger every day, to the point where he could hardly bring himself to let him go when it was necessary for his education to be managed differently.
In all probability, this extraordinary attachment was, if not produced, at least riveted by that peculiar turn in Peregrine's imagination, which we have already observed; and which, during his residence in the castle, appeared in sundry stratagems he practised upon his uncle and aunt, under the auspices of Mr. Hatchway who assisted him in the contrivance and execution of all his schemes. Nor was Pipes exempted from a share in their undertakings; for, being a trusty fellow, not without dexterity in some cases, and altogether resigned to their will, they found him a serviceable instrument for their purpose, and used him accordingly.
In all likelihood, this unusual bond was, if not created, at least strengthened by that unique aspect of Peregrine's imagination we've already noted; and which, during his time at the castle, showed up in various tricks he played on his uncle and aunt, with the help of Mr. Hatchway, who supported him in both planning and carrying out all his schemes. Pipes also had a role in their activities; being a dependable guy, reasonably skilled at times, and completely compliant with their plans, they found him to be a useful tool for their objectives and used him as such.
The first sample of their art was exhibited upon Mrs. Trunnion. They terrified that good lady with strange noises when she retired to her devotion. Pipes was a natural genius in the composition of discords: he could imitate the sound produced by the winding of a jack, the filing of a saw, and the swinging of a malefactor hanging in chains; he could counterfeit the braying of an ass, the screeching of a night-owl, the caterwauling of cats, the howling of a dog, the squeaking of a pig, the crowing of a cock; and he had learned the war-whoop uttered by the Indians in North America. These talents were exerted successively, at different times and places, to the terror of Mrs. Trunnion, the discomposure of the commodore himself, and the consternation of all the servants in the castle. Peregrine, with a sheet over his clothes, sometimes tumbled before his aunt in the twilight, when her organs of vision were a little impaired by the cordial she had swallowed; and the boatswain's mate taught him to shoe cats with walnut-shells, so that they made a most dreadful clattering in their nocturnal excursions.
The first sample of their art was showcased to Mrs. Trunnion. They startled her with strange noises when she went off to pray. Pipes was a natural talent at creating dissonance: he could replicate the sound of a jack in motion, the filing of a saw, and the swinging of a criminal in chains; he could mimic the braying of a donkey, the screeching of an owl, the yowling of cats, the barking of a dog, the squealing of a pig, and the crowing of a rooster; he had even picked up the war-whoop used by Native Americans in North America. These skills were used at different times and places, causing terror for Mrs. Trunnion, discomfort for the commodore himself, and panic among all the servants in the castle. Peregrine, dressed in a sheet, sometimes tumbled before his aunt in the dim light, when her vision was a bit blurred from the drink she’d had; and the boatswain's mate taught him to put walnut shells on cats’ feet, which created a terrible noise during their nighttime adventures.
The mind of Mrs. Trunnion was not a little disturbed by these alarms, which, in her opinion, portended the death of some principal person in the family; she redoubled her religious exercises, and fortified her spirits with fresh potations; nay, she began to take notice that Mr. Trunnion's constitution was very much broken, and seemed dissatisfied when people observed that they never saw him look better. Her frequent visits to the closet, where all her consolation was deposited, inspired the confederates with a device which had like to have been attended with tragical consequences. They found an opportunity to infuse jalap in one of her case-bottles; and she took so largely of this medicine, that her constitution had well nigh sunk under the violence of its effect. She suffered a succession of fainting fits that reduced her to the brink of the grave, in spite of all the remedies that were administered by a physician, who was called in the beginning of her disorder.
The mind of Mrs. Trunnion was quite troubled by these alarms, which she believed meant that some important person in the family was going to die. She doubled down on her religious practices and boosted her spirits with more drinks. In fact, she started to notice that Mr. Trunnion's health was really declining and seemed unhappy when people said they had never seen him look better. Her frequent trips to the closet, where she kept all her comfort items, inspired her conspirators to come up with a plan that nearly led to tragic consequences. They found a chance to mix jalap into one of her medicine bottles, and she took so much of this remedy that her health almost gave out from its harsh effects. She experienced a series of fainting spells that brought her close to death, despite all the treatments provided by a doctor who was called in at the start of her illness.
After having examined the symptoms, he declared that the patient had been poisoned with arsenic, and prescribed only draughts and lubricating injections, to defend the coats of the stomach and intestines from the vellicating particles of that pernicious mineral; at the same time hinting, with a look of infinite sagacity, that it was not difficult to divine the whole mystery. He affected to deplore the poor lady, as if she was exposed to more attempts of the same nature; thereby glancing obliquely at the innocent commodore, whom the officious son of Aesculapius suspected as the author of this expedient, to rid his hands of a yoke-fellow for whom he was well known to have no great devotion. This impertinent and malicious insinuation made some impression upon the bystanders, and furnished ample field for slander to asperse the morals of Trunnion, who was represented through the whole district as a monster of barbarity. Nay, the sufferer herself, though she behaved with great decency and prudence, could not help entertaining some small diffidence of her husband; not that she imagined he had any design upon her life, but that he had been at pains to adulterate the brandy with a view of detaching her from that favourite liquor.
After looking at the symptoms, he stated that the patient had been poisoned with arsenic and prescribed only drinks and lubricating injections to protect the stomach and intestines from the irritating particles of that dangerous substance; at the same time, he hinted, with a knowing look, that it wasn't hard to guess the whole situation. He pretended to sympathize with the poor lady, as if she was vulnerable to more attempts like this, subtly implying that the innocent commodore was suspected as the one behind this scheme to free himself from a partner he clearly didn't care much for. This rude and spiteful suggestion had an impact on those present and provided plenty of fodder for gossip about Trunnion’s character, painting him throughout the area as a cruel monster. Even the victim herself, although she acted very well and sensibly, couldn’t help but feel a bit unsure about her husband; not that she thought he wanted to harm her, but that he might have gone to the trouble of tampering with the brandy to try to wean her off her favorite drink.
On this supposition, she resolved to act with more caution for the future, without setting on foot any inquiry about the affair; while the commodore, imputing her indisposition to some natural cause, after the danger was past, never bestowed a thought upon the subject; so that the perpetrators were quit of their fear, which, however, had punished them so effectually, that they never would hazard any more jokes of the same nature.
On this assumption, she decided to be more careful in the future, without starting any investigation into the matter; meanwhile, the commodore, attributing her discomfort to some natural cause, after the danger had passed, didn’t give the subject another thought; as a result, the culprits were free from their fear, which, however, had punished them so effectively that they would never take the risk of making similar jokes again.
The shafts of their wit were now directed against the commander himself, whom they teased and terrified almost out of his senses. One day, while he was at dinner, Pipes came and told him that there was a person below that wanted to speak with him immediately, about an affair of the greatest importance, that would admit of no delay; upon which he ordered the stranger to be told that he was engaged, and that he must send up his name and business. To this demand he received for answer a message importing that the person's name was unknown to him, and his business of such a nature, that it could not be disclosed to any one but the commodore himself, whom he earnestly desired to see without loss of time.
The sharpness of their humor was now aimed at the commander himself, who they teased and freaked out almost to the point of losing his mind. One day, during dinner, Pipes came in and told him that someone downstairs needed to talk to him right away about a matter of utmost importance that couldn’t be delayed. The commander instructed that the stranger be told he was busy and that he should send up his name and the reason for his visit. In response, he received a message stating that the person's name was unknown and that the nature of his business was such that it could only be revealed to the commodore himself, whom he urgently wished to see as soon as possible.
Trunnion, surprised at this importunity, got up with great reluctance, in the middle of his meal, and descending to a parlour where the stranger was, asked him, in a surly tone, what he wanted with him in such a d—d hurry, that he could not wait till he had made an end of his mess? The other, not at all disconcerted at this rough address, advanced close up to him on his tiptoes, and, with a look of confidence and conceit, laying his mouth to one side of the commodore's head, whispered softly in his car, “Sir, I am the attorney whom you wanted to converse with in private.”—“The attorney?” cried Trunnion, staring, and half-choked with choler. “Yes, sir, at your service,” replied this retainer of the law; “and, if you please, the sooner we despatch the affair the better; for 'tis an old observation, that delay breeds danger.”—“Truly, brother,” said the commodore, who could no longer contain himself, “I do confess that I am very much of your way of thinking, d'ye see, and therefore you shall be despatched in a trice.” So saying, he lifted up his walking-staff, which was something between a crutch and a cudgel, and discharged it with such energy on the seat of the attorney's understanding, that if there had been anything but solid bone, the contents of his skull must have been evacuated.
Trunnion, taken aback by this sudden interruption, reluctantly got up in the middle of his meal and went down to the parlor where the stranger was. He asked him, in a grumpy tone, what he wanted so urgently that he couldn’t wait until Trunnion finished his food. The stranger, completely unfazed by the rude greeting, tiptoed closer and, with a look of confidence and arrogance, leaned in close to Trunnion's ear and whispered, “Sir, I’m the attorney you wanted to speak with privately.” “The attorney?” Trunnion exclaimed, staring and nearly choking with anger. “Yes, sir, at your service,” the lawyer replied. “And if you don’t mind, the sooner we handle this matter, the better; it’s an old saying that delay can lead to danger.” “You know, my friend,” said the commodore, unable to hold back any longer, “I completely agree with you, and so I’ll deal with you right away.” With that, he raised his walking stick, which was a mix between a crutch and a club, and struck it down with such force that if there had been anything but solid bone, the attorney’s brains would have been splattered everywhere.
Fortified as he was by nature against all such assaults, he could not withstand the momentum of the blow, which in an instant laid him flat on the floor, deprived of all sense and motion; and Trunnion hopped upstairs to dinner, applauding himself in ejaculations all the way for the vengeance he had taken on such an impudent pettifogging miscreant.
Fortified by nature against all these attacks, he couldn’t resist the force of the blow, which instantly knocked him flat on the floor, leaving him unconscious and motionless; and Trunnion bounced upstairs for dinner, patting himself on the back with exclamations all the way for the revenge he had taken on such an audacious, petty rogue.
The attorney no sooner awaked from his trance, into which he had been so unexpectedly killed, than he cast his eyes around in quest of evidence, by which he might be enabled the more easily to prove the injury he had sustained, but not a soul appearing, he made shift to get upon his legs again, and, with the blood trickling over his nose, followed one of the servants into the dining-room, resolved to come to an explanation with the assailant, and either extort money from him by way of satisfaction, or provoke him to a second application before witnesses. With this view, he entered the room in a peal of clamour, to the amazement of all present, and the terror of Mrs. Trunnion, who shrieked at the appearance of such a spectacle; and addressing himself to the commodore, “I'll tell you what, sir,” said he; “if there be law in England, I'll make you smart for this here assault.” You think you have screened yourself from a prosecution by sending all your servants out of the way; but that circumstance will appear upon trial to be a plain proof of the malice prepense with which the fact was committed; especially when corroborated by the evidence of this here letter, under your own hand, whereby I am desired to come to your own house to transact an affair of consequence. So he produced the writing, and read the contents in these words:—
The lawyer barely woke from the shock of being attacked when he quickly scanned the room for any evidence to help support his claim of injury. However, with no one around, he managed to stand up again, blood dripping from his nose. He followed one of the servants into the dining room, determined to confront his attacker and either demand money for compensation or provoke him into another fight in front of witnesses. With that in mind, he burst into the room, creating a loud scene that astonished everyone present and frightened Mrs. Trunnion, who screamed at the sight. Addressing the commodore, he said, “Let me tell you something, sir: if there's any justice in England, you’ll pay for this assault.” You think you've avoided prosecution by sending all your servants away, but that will just show the premeditated malice behind your actions, especially when supported by this letter you wrote, inviting me to your home for an important matter. He then pulled out the letter and read its contents aloud:—
“Mr. Roger Ravine.
Sir,—Being in a manner prisoner in my own house, I desire
you will give me a call precisely at three o'clock in the
afternoon, and insist upon seeing myself, as I have an affair
of great consequence, in which your particular advice is
wanted by your humble servant,
“Hawser Trunnion.”
“Mr. Roger Ravine.
Sir,—Since I feel like a prisoner in my own home, I would like you to come by at exactly three o'clock this afternoon and demand to see me, as I have a very important matter that requires your specific advice.
“Hawser Trunnion.”The one-eyed commander, who had been satisfied with the chastisement he had already bestowed upon the plaintiff, hearing him read this audacious piece of forgery, which he considered as the effect of his own villainy, started up from table, and seizing a huge turkey that lay in a dish before him, would have applied it, sauce and all, by way of poultice, to his wound, had he not been restrained by Hatchway, who laid fast hold on both his arms, and fixed him to his chair again, advising the attorney to sheer off with what he had got. Far from following this salutary counsel, he redoubled his threats: set Trunnion at defiance, telling him he not a man of true courage, although he had commanded a ship of war, or else he would not have attacked any person in such a cowardly and clandestine manner. This provocation would have answered his purpose effectually, had not his adversary's indignation been repressed by the suggestions of the lieutenant, who desired his friend, in a whisper, to be easy, for he would take care to have the attorney tossed in a blanket for his presumption. This proposal, which he received with great approbation, pacified him in a moment: he wiped the sweat from his forehead, and his features relaxed into a grim smile.
The one-eyed commander, pleased with the punishment he had already given the plaintiff, jumped up from the table when he heard him read this bold forgery, which he thought was the result of his own wrongdoing. He reached for a gigantic turkey sitting on a dish in front of him and would have used it, sauce and all, as a poultice for his injury if Hatchway hadn’t grabbed both his arms and forced him back into his chair, telling the attorney to back off with what he had said. Instead of listening to this sensible advice, the attorney intensified his threats, challenging Trunnion and claiming he wasn’t a man of real courage, even though he had commanded a warship, since he wouldn’t have attacked anyone in such a sneaky and cowardly way. This provocation would have effectively served his purpose if Trunnion’s anger hadn’t been subdued by the lieutenant’s suggestion, who whispered to his friend to stay calm, promising he would ensure the attorney got tossed in a blanket for his arrogance. This suggestion, which Trunnion accepted enthusiastically, calmed him instantly: he wiped the sweat from his forehead, and a grim smile spread across his face.
Hatchway disappeared; and Ravine proceeded with great fluency of abuse, until he was interrupted by the arrival of Pipes, who, without any expostulation, led him out by the hand, and conducted him to the yard, where he was put into a carpet, and in a twinkling sent into the air by the strength and dexterity of five stout operators, whom the lieutenant had selected from the number of domestics for that singular spell of duty.
Hatchway vanished, and Ravine continued with a stream of insults until he was interrupted by Pipes, who, without any argument, took him by the hand and led him to the yard. There, he was placed on a carpet and, in no time, launched into the air by the strength and skill of five strong workers that the lieutenant had chosen from the household staff for that unique task.
In vain did the astonished vaulter beg, for the love of God, that they would take pity upon him, and put an end to his involuntary gambols: they were deaf to his prayers and protestations, even when he swore, in the most solemn manner, that if they would cease tormenting him, he would forget and forgive what was past, and depart in peace to his own habitation; and continued the game till they were fatigued with the exercise.
In vain did the shocked vaulter plead, for the love of God, that they would have mercy on him and stop his involuntary flips: they ignored his pleas and protests, even when he solemnly swore that if they would stop tormenting him, he would forget and forgive what had happened and leave in peace to his own home; and they kept playing until they were exhausted from the activity.
Ravine being dismissed in a most melancholy plight, brought an action of assault and battery against the commodore, and subpoenaed all the servants as evidences in the cause; but as none of them had seen what happened, he did not find his account in the prosecution, though he himself examined all the witnesses, and, among their questions, asked, whether they had not seen him come in like another man? and whether they had ever seen any other man in such condition as that in which he had crawled off. But this last interrogation they were not obliged to answer, because it had reference to the second discipline he had undergone, in which they, and they only, were concerned; and no person is bound to give testimony against himself.
Ravine, feeling pretty down after being dismissed, sued the commodore for assault and battery and called all the servants as witnesses. However, since none of them had actually seen what happened, the case didn’t go his way, even though he personally questioned all the witnesses. He asked them if they hadn’t seen him come in looking like a different person and whether they had ever seen anyone else in the state he was in when he crawled away. But they didn’t have to answer that last question because it was about the second punishment he faced, which only involved them, and no one is required to testify against themselves.
In short, the attorney was nonsuited, to the satisfaction of all who knew him, and found himself under the necessity of proving that he had received, in course of post, the letter which was declared in court a scandalous forgery, in order to prevent an indictment with which he was threatened by the commodore, who little dreamt that the whole affair had been planned and executed by Peregrine and his associates.
In short, the lawyer was let off, much to the relief of everyone who knew him, and he had to prove that he had received, through the mail, the letter that the court declared a scandalous forgery, to avoid the charges the commodore was threatening him with—completely unaware that the entire situation had been orchestrated by Peregrine and his friends.
The next enterprise in which this triumvirate engaged, was a scheme to frighten Trunnion with an apparition, which they prepared and exhibited in this manner: to the hide of a large ox, Pipes fitted a leathern vizor of a most terrible appearance, stretched on the jaws of a shark, which he had brought from sea, and accommodated with a couple of broad glasses instead of eyes. On the inside of these he placed two rushlights, and, with a composition of sulphur and saltpetre, made a pretty large fusee, which he fixed between two rows of the teeth. This equipage being finished, he, one dark night chosen for the purpose, put it on, and, following the commodore into a long passage, in which he was preceded by Perry with a light in his hand, kindled his firework with a match, and began to bellow like a bull. The boy, as it was concerted, looked behind him, screamed aloud, and dropped the light, which was extinguished in the fall; when Trunnion, alarmed at his nephew's consternation, exclaimed, “Zounds! what's the matter?” and turning about to see the cause of his dismay, beheld a hideous phantom vomiting blue flame, which aggravated the horrors of its aspect. He was instantly seized with an agony of fear, which divested him of his reason: nevertheless, he, as it were mechanically, raised his trusty supporter in his own defence, and, the apparition advancing towards him, aimed it at this dreadful annoyance with such a convulsive exertion of strength, that had not the blow chanced to light upon one of the horns Mr. Pipes would have had no cause to value himself upon his invention. Misapplied as it was, he did not fail to stagger at the shock; and, dreading another such salutation, closed with the commodore, and having tripped up his heels, retreated with great expedition.
The next venture this trio took on was a plan to scare Trunnion with a ghost. They set it up like this: Pipes fitted a fierce-looking leather mask onto a large ox hide, stretched over the jaws of a shark he had brought from the sea, and added a couple of big glasses in place of eyes. Inside these, he placed two candles and created a fairly large firecracker with a mix of sulfur and saltpeter, which he secured between two rows of teeth. Once everything was ready, on a chosen dark night, he put it on and followed the commodore down a long hallway, where Perry was ahead of him holding a light. He lit his firework with a match and started to roar like a bull. The boy, as they had planned, looked back, screamed, and dropped the light, which went out when it fell. Trunnion, alarmed by his nephew’s terror, shouted, “What the hell’s going on?” Turning around to see what caused the fright, he saw a hideous ghost spewing blue flames, which made its appearance even scarier. He was immediately hit with a wave of fear that made him lose his wits. Despite this, he instinctively raised his trusty weapon to defend himself, and as the ghost moved toward him, he aimed it at the terrifying creature with such a desperate burst of strength that if the blow hadn’t landed on one of the horns, Mr. Pipes wouldn’t have had any reason to take pride in his invention. Even though the blow was misdirected, he staggered from the impact, and fearing another such encounter, he grappled with the commodore and quickly tripped him up before retreating in a hurry.
It was then that Peregrine, pretending to recollect himself a little, ran, with all the marks of disturbance and affright, and called up the servants to the assistance of their master, whom they found in a cold sweat upon the floor, his features betokening horror and confusion. Hatchway raised him up, and having comforted him with a cup of Nantz, began to inquire into the cause of his disorder: but he could not extract one word of answer from his friend, who, after a considerable pause, during which he seemed to be wrapt in profound contemplation, pronounced aloud, “By the Lord! Jack, you may say what you wool; but I'll be d— if it was not Davy Jones himself. I know him by his saucer eyes, his three rows of teeth, his horns and tail, and the blue smoke that came out of his nostrils. What does the blackguard hell's baby want with me? I'm sure I never committed murder, except in the way of my profession, nor wronged any man whatsomever since I first went to sea.” This same Davy Jones, according to the mythology of sailors, is the fiend that presides over all the evil spirits of the deep, and is often seen in various shapes, perching among the rigging on the eve of hurricanes, shipwrecks, and other disasters, to which a seafaring life is exposed; warning the devoted wretch of death and woe. No wonder then that Trunnion was disturbed by a supposed visit of this demon, which, in his opinion, foreboded some dreadful calamity.
It was then that Peregrine, pretending to pull himself together a bit, ran in, clearly shaken and scared, and called the servants to help their master, who they found on the floor in a cold sweat, his face showing horror and confusion. Hatchway lifted him up, and after giving him a comforting cup of Nantz, began to ask what had caused his distress. But he couldn’t get a single word out of his friend, who, after a long pause during which he seemed lost in deep thought, declared loudly, “By the Lord! Jack, you can say what you want; but I swear it was Davy Jones himself. I know him by his saucy eyes, his three rows of teeth, his horns and tail, and the blue smoke that came out of his nostrils. What does that scoundrel want with me? I know I’ve never committed murder, aside from in my line of work, nor wronged any man whatsoever since I first went to sea.” This same Davy Jones, according to sailors' lore, is the demon that rules over all the evil spirits of the deep, often appearing in various forms, perched among the rigging on the eve of hurricanes, shipwrecks, and other disasters that a life at sea brings; warning the doomed soul of death and misfortune. It’s no surprise then that Trunnion was troubled by what he thought was a visit from this demon, which, in his mind, signaled some terrible calamity.
CHAPTER XIV.
He is also, by their device, engaged in an Adventure with the Exciseman, who does not find his Account in his own Drollery.
He is also, according to their plan, involved in an adventure with the tax collector, who isn't benefiting from his own humor.
Howsomever preposterous and unaccountable that passion may be which prompts persons, otherwise generous and sympathizing, to afflict and perplex their fellow-creatures, certain it is, our confederates entertained such a large proportion of it, that not satisfied with the pranks they had already played, they still persecuted the commodore without ceasing. In the course of his own history, the particulars of which he delighted to recount, he had often rehearsed an adventure of deer-stealing, in which, during the unthinking impetuosity of his youth, he had been unfortunately concerned. Far from succeeding in that achievement, he and his associates had, it seems, been made prisoners, after an obstinate engagement with the keepers, and carried before a neighbouring justice of the peace, who used Trunnion with great indignity, and with his companions committed him to jail.
However ridiculous and inexplicable that passion may be which drives people, otherwise kind and empathetic, to harm and confuse their fellow beings, it's clear that our allies had a significant amount of it. They were not satisfied with the pranks they had already pulled and continued to relentlessly pursue the commodore. In recounting his own history, which he loved to share, he often told the story of a deer-stealing incident where, in the reckless impulsiveness of his youth, he was unfortunately involved. Instead of succeeding in that endeavor, he and his friends ended up being captured after a stubborn fight with the keepers and brought before a nearby justice of the peace, who treated Trunnion with great disrespect and sent him and his companions to jail.
His own relations, and in particular an uncle on whom he chiefly depended, treated him during his confinement with great rigour and inhumanity and absolutely refused to interpose his influence in his behalf, unless he would sign a writing, obliging himself to go to sea within thirty days after his release, under the penalty of being proceeded against as a felon. The alternative was, either to undergo this voluntary exile, or remain in prison disowned and deserted by everybody, and, after all, suffer an ignominious trial, that might end in a sentence of transportation for life. He therefore, without much hesitation, embraced the proposal of his kinsman, and, as he observed, was, in less than a month after his discharge, turned adrift to the mercy of the wind and waves.
His family, especially an uncle he relied on the most, treated him very harshly during his time in confinement. They absolutely refused to help him unless he agreed to sign a document committing to go to sea within thirty days after his release, with the threat of being treated as a criminal if he didn’t. The only choices he had were to accept this voluntary exile or stay in prison, completely abandoned by everyone, and possibly face a humiliating trial that could result in a life sentence of transportation. So, without much thought, he accepted his relative's proposal and, as he noted, less than a month after he was released, he was cast out to the mercy of the wind and waves.
Since that period he had never maintained any correspondence with his relations, all of whom had concurred in sending him off; nor would he ever pay the least regard to the humiliations and supplications of some among them, who had prostrated themselves before him, on the advancement of his fortune: but he retained a most inveterate resentment against his uncle, who was still in being, though extremely old and infirm, and frequently mentioned his name with all the bitterness of revenge.
Since that time, he had never kept in touch with his family, all of whom had agreed to send him away; nor would he ever pay the slightest attention to the humiliations and pleas of some of them, who had grovelled before him after his success: but he held a deep-seated resentment towards his uncle, who was still alive, though very old and frail, and he often spoke his name with all the bitterness of revenge.
Perry being perfectly well acquainted with the particulars of this story, which he had heard so often repeated, proposed to Hatchway that a person should be hired to introduce himself to the commodore, with a supposititious letter of recommendation from this detested kinsman; an imposition that, in all likelihood, would afford abundance of diversion.
Perry, who was already very familiar with the details of this story he had heard many times, suggested to Hatchway that they hire someone to meet the commodore with a fake letter of recommendation from this hated relative; a trick that would probably provide plenty of entertainment.
The lieutenant relished the scheme and young Pickle having composed an epistle for the occasion, the exciseman of the parish, a fellow of great impudence and some humour, in whom Hatchway could confide, undertook to transcribe and deliver it with his own hand, and also personate the man in whose favour it was feigned to be written. He, accordingly, one morning arrived on horseback at the garrison, two hours at least before Trunnion used to get up, and gave Pipes, who admitted him, to understand, that he had a letter from his master, which he was ordered to deliver to none but the commodore himself. This message was no sooner communicated, than the indignant chief (who had been waked for the purpose) began to curse the messenger for breaking his rest, and swore he would not budge till his usual time of turning out. This resolution being conveyed to the stranger, he desired the carrier to go back and tell him, he had such joyful tidings to impart, that he was sure the commodore would think himself amply rewarded for his trouble, even if he had been raised from the grave to receive them.
The lieutenant enjoyed the plan, and since young Pickle had written a letter for the occasion, the local exciseman, a guy with a lot of nerve and a sense of humor whom Hatchway trusted, agreed to copy and deliver it himself, even pretending to be the person it was supposedly addressed to. So, one morning, he rode to the garrison, arriving at least two hours before Trunnion usually got up, and told Pipes, who let him in, that he had a letter from his master that he could only deliver to the commodore himself. As soon as that message was passed on, the annoyed commodore (who had been woken up for this) started cursing the messenger for interrupting his sleep, insisting he wouldn’t move until his usual wake-up time. When this was relayed to the messenger, he asked Pipes to go back and let the commodore know that he had such great news to share that the commodore would feel more than justified for the disruption, even if he had been dragged back from the dead to hear it.
This assurance, flattering as it was, would not have been powerful enough to persuade him, had it not been assisted with the exhortations of his spouse, which never failed to influence his conduct. He therefore crept out of bed, though not without great repugnance; and wrapping himself in his morning gown, was supported down-stairs, rubbing his eye, yawning fearfully, and grumbling in the way. As soon as he popped his head into the parlour, the supposed stranger made divers awkward bows, and with a grinning aspect accosted him in these words: “Your most humble servant, most noble commodore! I hope you are in good health; you look pure and hearty; and if it was not for that misfortune of your eye, one would not desire to see a more pleasant countenance in a summer's day. Sure as I am a living soul, one would take you to be on this side of threescore. Lord help us, I should have known you to be a Trunnion, if I had met with one in the midst of Salisbury Plain, as the saying is.”
This compliment, as flattering as it was, wouldn’t have been enough to convince him if it hadn’t been backed up by his wife's encouragement, which always influenced his actions. So, he reluctantly crawled out of bed, and after putting on his morning robe, he was helped downstairs, rubbing his eyes, yawning loudly, and grumbling along the way. As soon as he peeked into the living room, the supposed stranger awkwardly bowed several times and with a grin said to him, “Your most humble servant, noble commodore! I hope you’re doing well; you look fresh and healthy. If it weren’t for that eye problem, no one would wish for a more pleasant face on a summer day. As sure as I’m alive, I would have thought you were under sixty. Goodness, I would have recognized you as a Trunnion even if I ran into one in the middle of Salisbury Plain, as the saying goes.”
The commodore, who was not at all in the humour of relishing such an impertinent preamble, interrupted him in this place, saying, with a peevish accent, “Pshaw! pshaw! brother, there's no occasion to bowse out so much unnecessary gun; if you can't bring your discourse to bear on the right subject, you had much better clap a stopper on your tongue, and bring yourself up, d'ye see; I was told you had something to deliver.”—“Deliver!” cried the waggish impostor, “odds heart! I have got something for you that will make your very entrails rejoice within your body. Here's a letter from a dear and worthy friend of yours. Take, read it, and be happy. Blessings on his old heart! one would think he had renewed his age, like the eagle's.” Trunnion's expectation being thus raised, he called for his spectacles, adjusted them to his eye, took the letter, and being curious to know the subscription, no sooner perceived his uncle's name, then he started back, his lip quivered, and he began to shake in every limb with resentment and surprise; eager to know the subject of an epistle from a person who had never before troubled him with any sort of address, he endeavoured to recollect himself, and perused the contents, which were these;—
The commodore, who was not in the mood to appreciate such an annoying preamble, interrupted him, saying in a grouchy tone, “Pshaw! pshaw! brother, there’s no need to ramble on with so much unnecessary talk; if you can’t get to the point, it’s better to keep quiet and gather yourself, you know; I heard you had something to share.” — “Share!” exclaimed the joking fraud, “good grief! I’ve got something that will make your very insides rejoice. Here’s a letter from a dear and worthy friend of yours. Go on, read it, and be happy. Bless his old heart! You’d think he’d found a way to renew his youth, like an eagle.” With his curiosity piqued, Trunnion called for his glasses, adjusted them to his eyes, took the letter, and as he was eager to know who it was from, the moment he saw his uncle's name, he recoiled, his lip trembled, and he started shaking all over with anger and surprise; wanting to understand the reason for a letter from someone who had never before reached out to him, he tried to gather himself and read the contents, which were as follows;—
“Loving Nephew,—I doubt not but you will be rejoiced to
hear of my welfare; and well you may, considering what a
kind uncle I have been to you in the days of your youth, and
how little you deserved any such thing; for yet, was always
a graceless young man, given to wicked courses and bad company,
whereby you would have come to a shameful end, had it not been
for my care in sending you out of mischief's way. But this is
not the cause of my present writing. The bearer, Mr. Timothy
Trickle, is a distant relation of yours, being the son of the
cousin of your aunt Margery, and is not over and above well as
to worldly matters. He thinks of going to London, to see for
some post in the excise or customs if so be that you will
recommend him to some great man of your acquaintance, and give
him a small matter to keep him till he is provided. I doubt not,
nephew, but you will be glad to serve him, if it was no more
but for the respect you bear to me, who am,—Loving nephew,
your affectionate uncle, and servant to command,
“Tobiah Trunnion.”
“Dear Nephew, — I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that I’m doing well; and you have every reason to be, given how kind I’ve been to you in your younger days, and how little you deserved it. You were always a reckless young man, getting into trouble and hanging out with the wrong crowd, which could have led to a terrible end if I hadn’t stepped in to keep you out of trouble. However, that’s not the reason I’m writing to you now. The person delivering this, Mr. Timothy Trickle, is a distant relative of yours—he's the son of your Aunt Margery’s cousin—and he’s not in a great place financially. He’s thinking about heading to London to look for a job in the excise or customs, and would appreciate it if you could recommend him to someone influential you know, and maybe give him a little support until he finds something. I’m sure you’ll be eager to help him, especially out of respect for me. Yours affectionately, your uncle who is always here to help, “Tobiah Trunnion.”
It would be a difficult task for the inimitable Hogarth himself to exhibit the ludicrous expression of the commodore's countenance while he read this letter. It was not a stare of astonishment, a convulsion of rage, or a ghastly grin of revenge; but an association of all three, that took possession of his features. At length, he hawked up, with incredible straining, the interjection, “Ah!” that seemed to have stuck some time in his windpipe; and thus gave vent to his indignation: “Have I come alongside of you at last, you old stinking curmudgeon? You lie, you lousy hulk! ye lie! you did all in your power to founder me when I was a stripling; and as for being graceless and wicked, and keeping bad company, you tell a d—d lie again, you thief! there was not a more peaceable lad in the county, and I kept no bad company but your own, d'ye see. Therefore, you Trickle, or what's your name, tell the old rascal that sent you hither, that I spit in his face, and call him horse; that I tear his letter into rags, so; and that I trample upon it as I would upon his own villainous carcase, d'ye see.” So saying, he danced in a sort of frenzy upon the fragments of the paper, which he had scattered about the room, to the inexpressible satisfaction of the triumvirate, who beheld the scene.
It would be a tough job for the one and only Hogarth himself to capture the ridiculous look on the commodore's face as he read this letter. It wasn’t just shock, rage, or an evil grin; it was a mix of all three that showed on his face. Finally, after a lot of effort, he let out an “Ah!” that seemed to have been stuck in his throat for a while and vented his anger: “Have I finally come up against you, you old stinking cheapskate? You’re lying, you filthy hulk! You lie! You did everything you could to sink me when I was a kid; and claiming I’m graceless and wicked, and hanging out with bad company, you’re telling a damned lie again, you thief! There wasn’t a more peaceful kid in the county, and the only bad company I kept was your own, you see. So, you Trickle, or whatever your name is, tell the old scoundrel who sent you here that I spit in his face and call him a horse; that I’m tearing his letter into shreds, like this; and that I’m stomping on it just like I would on his filthy carcass, you see.” With that, he danced in a sort of frenzy on the pieces of the letter he had scattered around the room, to the absolute delight of the trio watching the scene.
The exciseman having got between him and the door, which was left open for his escape, in case of necessity, affected great confusion and surprise at his behaviour, saying, with an air of mortification, “Lord be merciful unto me! is this the way you treat your own relations, and the recommendation of your best friend? Surely all gratitude and virtue has left this sinful world! What will cousin Tim, and Dick, and Tom, and good mother Pipkin; and her daughters cousin Sue, and Prue, and Peg, with all the rest of our kinsfolks, say, when they hear of this unconscionable reception that I have met with? Consider, sir, that ingratitude is worse than the sin of witchcraft, as the Apostle wisely observes; and do not send me away with such unchristian usage, which will lay a heavy load of guilt upon your poor miserable soul.”—“What, you are on a cruise for a post, brother Trickle, an't ye?” said Trunnion, interrupting him, “we shall find a post for you in a trice, my boy. Here, Pipes, take this saucy son of a b— and help him to the whipping-post in the yard. I'll teach you to rouse me in the morning with such impertinent messages.”
The tax collector, standing between him and the door that was left open for his escape if needed, pretended to be greatly confused and surprised by his behavior. With a look of mortification, he said, “Lord have mercy on me! Is this how you treat your own family and the recommendation of your best friend? Surely all gratitude and virtue have left this sinful world! What will cousin Tim, and Dick, and Tom, and good mother Pipkin; and her daughters cousin Sue, and Prue, and Peg, along with all the rest of our relatives, say when they hear about this outrageous treatment I’ve received? Remember, sir, that ingratitude is worse than witchcraft, as the Apostle wisely pointed out; and don’t send me away with such unchristian treatment, which will weigh heavily on your poor miserable soul.” —“What, you’re looking for a job, brother Trickle, aren’t you?” said Trunnion, interrupting him. “We’ll find a job for you in no time, my boy. Here, Pipes, take this cheeky son of a b— and help him to the whipping post in the yard. I'll teach you to wake me up in the morning with such rude messages.”
Pipes, who wanted to carry the joke farther than the exciseman dreamt of, laid hold of him in a twinkling, and executed the orders of his commander, notwithstanding all his nods, winking, and significant gestures, which the boatswain's mate would by no means understand; so that he began to repent of the part he acted in this performance, which was like to end so tragically; and stood fastened to the stake, in a very disagreeable state of suspense; casting many a rueful look over his left shoulder, while Pipes was absent in quest of a cat-o'-nine-tails, in expectation of being relieved by the interposition of the lieutenant, who did not, however, appear. Tom, returning with the instrument of correction, undressed the delinquent in a trice, and whispering in his ear, that he was very sorry for being employed in such an office, but durst not for his soul disobey the orders of his commander, flourished the scourge about his head, and with admirable dexterity made such a smarting application to the offender's back and shoulders, that the distracted gauger performed sundry new cuts with his feet, and bellowed hideously with pain, to the infinite satisfaction of the spectators. At length, when he was almost flayed from his rump to the nape of his neck, Hatchway, who had purposely absented himself hitherto, appeared in the yard, and interposing in his behalf, prevailed upon Trunnion to call off the executioner, and ordered the malefactor to be released.
Pipes, who wanted to take the joke further than the exciseman ever imagined, grabbed him in an instant and followed his commander's orders, despite all the nods, winks, and meaningful gestures that the boatswain's mate simply wouldn't understand. He started to regret his role in this situation, which was about to end so badly, and stood tied to the stake in a very uncomfortable state of suspense, casting many a regretful glance over his left shoulder while Pipes went off to find a cat-o'-nine-tails, hoping to be rescued by the lieutenant, who didn’t show up. Tom, returning with the punishment tool, quickly stripped the delinquent and whispered in his ear that he was really sorry to be doing this but couldn’t disobey his commander. He swung the whip over his head and skillfully applied it to the offender's back and shoulders, causing the distressed gauger to kick around in agony and scream in pain, to the delight of the onlookers. Finally, when he was nearly skinned from his backside to the back of his neck, Hatchway, who had intentionally stayed away until now, showed up in the yard and intervened on his behalf, convincing Trunnion to stop the punishment and ordered the offender to be released.
The exciseman, mad with the catastrophe he had undergone, threatened to be revenged upon his employers, by making a candid confession of the whole plot; but the lieutenant giving him to understand, that in so doing, he would bring upon himself a prosecution for fraud, forgery, and imposture, he was fain to put up with his loss; and sneaked out of the garrison, attended with a volley of curses discharged upon him by the commodore, who was exceedingly irritated by the disturbance and disappointment he had undergone.
The tax collector, furious about the disaster he had been through, threatened to get back at his bosses by revealing the entire scheme; but the lieutenant made it clear that doing so would lead to charges of fraud, forgery, and deception against him. Reluctantly, he accepted his loss and left the garrison, followed by a barrage of curses from the commodore, who was extremely annoyed by the trouble and letdown he had experienced.
CHAPTER XV.
The Commodore detects the Machinations of the Conspirators, and hires a tutor for Peregrine, whom he settles in Winchester School.
The Commodore notices the plots of the Conspirators and hires a tutor for Peregrine, who he enrolls in Winchester School.
This was not the least affliction he had suffered from the unwearied endeavours and unexhausted invention of his tormentors, who harassed him with such a variety of mischievous pranks, that he began to think all the devils in hell had conspired against his peace; and accordingly became very serious and contemplative on the subject.
This was not the only suffering he endured from the relentless efforts and endless creativity of his tormentors, who bothered him with so many annoying tricks that he started to believe all the demons in hell had teamed up against his happiness; and as a result, he became very serious and reflective about it.
In the course of his meditations, when he recollected and compared the circumstances of every mortification to which he had been lately exposed, he could not help suspecting that some of them must have been contrived to vex him; and, as he was not ignorant of his lieutenant's disposition, nor unacquainted with the talents of Peregrine, he resolved to observe them both for the future with the utmost care and circumspection. This resolution, aided by the incautious conduct of the conspirators, whom, by this time, success had rendered heedless and indiscreet, was attended with the desired effect. He in a little time, detected Perry in a new plot; and by dint of a little chastisement, and a great many threats, extorted from him a confession of all the contrivances in which he had been concerned. The commodore was thunderstruck at the discovery, and so much incensed against Hatchway for the part he had acted in the whole, that he deliberated with himself, whether he should demand satisfaction with sword and pistol, or dismiss him from the garrison, and renounce all friendship with him at once. But he had been so long accustomed to Jack's company, that he could not live without him; and upon more cool reflection, perceiving that what he had done was rather the effect of wantonness than malice, which he himself would have laughed to see take place upon any other person, he determined to devour his chagrin, and extended his forgiveness even to Pipes, whom, in the first sally of his passion, he had looked upon in a more criminal light than that of a simple mutineer. This determination was seconded by another, which he thought absolutely necessary for his own repose, and in which his own interest, and that of his nephew, concurred.
During his reflections, when he recalled and compared all the challenges he had faced recently, he couldn’t help but think that some of them were designed to annoy him. Knowing his lieutenant’s nature and being aware of Peregrine’s skills, he decided to keep a close watch on both of them moving forward. This decision, combined with the careless actions of the conspirators, who by then had become reckless from their previous success, led to the outcome he wanted. Soon enough, he caught Perry in a new scheme and, through a little punishment and many threats, got him to confess to all the plots he had been involved in. The commodore was shocked by this revelation and was so angry at Hatchway for his role in everything that he considered whether to demand satisfaction with sword and pistol or to kick him out of the garrison and end their friendship for good. However, he had been so used to Jack’s company that he couldn’t imagine life without him. After some cooler reflection, realizing that Hatchway’s actions stemmed more from playfulness than malice—something he would have found funny if it had happened to someone else—he decided to swallow his anger and even forgave Pipes, whom he had initially viewed as more than just a simple mutineer in the heat of the moment. This decision was also supported by another one that he thought was crucial for his peace of mind, aligning his own interests with those of his nephew.
Peregrine, who was now turned of twelve, had made such advances under the instruction of Jennings, that he often disputed upon grammar, and was sometimes thought to have the better in his contests, with the parish-priest, who, notwithstanding this acknowledged superiority of his antagonist, did great justice to his genius which he assured Mr. Trunnion would be lost for want of cultivation, if the boy was not immediately sent to prosecute his studies at some proper seminary of learning.
Peregrine, who was now over twelve, had made such progress under Jennings' instruction that he often debated grammar and was sometimes considered to have the upper hand in his arguments with the parish priest. Despite this recognized superiority of his opponent, the priest acknowledged his talent and assured Mr. Trunnion that it would be wasted without proper guidance if the boy wasn't sent right away to continue his studies at a suitable school.
This maxim had been more than once inculcated upon the commodore by Mrs. Trunnion, who, over and above the deference she paid to the parson's opinion, had a reason of her own for wishing to see the house clear of Peregrine, at whose prying disposition she began to be very uneasy. Induced by these motives, which were joined by the solicitation of the youth himself, who ardently longed to see a little more of the world, his uncle determined to send him forthwith to Winchester, under the immediate care and inspection of a governor, to whom he allowed a very handsome appointment for that purpose. This gentleman, whose name was Mr. Jacob Jolter, had been school-fellow with the parson of the parish, who recommended him to Mrs. Trunnion as a person of great worth and learning, in every respect qualified for the office of a tutor. He likewise added, by way of eulogium, that he was a man of exemplary piety and particularly zealous for the honour of the church, of which he was a member, having been many years in holy orders, though he did not then exercise any function of the priesthood. Indeed, Mr. Jolter's zeal was so exceedingly fervent, as, on some occasions, to get the better of his discretion; for, being a high churchman and of consequence a malcontent, his resentment was habituated into an insurmountable prejudice against the present disposition of affairs, which, by confounding the nation with the ministry, sometimes led him into erroneous, not to say absurd calculations; otherwise, a man of good morals, well versed in mathematics and school divinity, studies which had not at all contributed to sweeten and unbend the natural sourness and severity of his complexion.
This saying had been repeatedly emphasized to the commodore by Mrs. Trunnion, who, in addition to respecting the parson's opinion, had her own reasons for wanting Peregrine out of the house, as his nosy nature was starting to make her uncomfortable. Motivated by these reasons, along with the pleading from the young man himself, who was eager to experience more of the world, his uncle decided to send him right away to Winchester, under the direct supervision of a tutor, for whom he provided a generous salary. This gentleman, named Mr. Jacob Jolter, had been a schoolmate of the parish parson, who recommended him to Mrs. Trunnion as someone of great worth and knowledge, fully qualified for the role of tutor. He also added, as a compliment, that Mr. Jolter was a man of strong faith and particularly dedicated to the honor of the church, of which he had been a member for many years, although he was not currently performing any priestly duties. In fact, Mr. Jolter's zeal was so intense that it sometimes overshadowed his judgment; being a high churchman and consequently a malcontent, his anger had turned into a deep-seated bias against the current state of affairs, which, by confusing the nation with the ministry, sometimes led him to make misguided, if not outright absurd, calculations. Otherwise, he was a man of good morals, well versed in mathematics and church doctrine, subjects that had not done much to soften the naturally sour and stern aspect of his demeanor.
This gentleman being destined to the charge of superintending Perry's education, everything was prepared for their departure; and Tom Pipes, in consequence of his own petition, put into livery, and appointed footman to the young squire. But, before they set out, the commodore paid the compliment of communicating his design to Mr. Pickle, who approved of the plan, though he durst not venture to see the boy; so much was he intimidated by the remonstrances of his wife, whose aversion to her first-born became every day more inveterate and unaccountable. This unnatural caprice seemed to be supported by a consideration which, one would imagine, might have rather vanquished her disgust. Her second son Gam, who was now in the fourth year of his age, had been rickety from the cradle, and as remarkably unpromising in appearance as Perry was agreeable in his person. As the deformity increased, the mother's fondness was augmented, and the virulence of her hate against the other son seemed to prevail in the same proportion.
This gentleman was assigned to oversee Perry's education, and everything was ready for their departure. Tom Pipes, after his own request, was put in a uniform and appointed as footman to the young squire. However, before they left, the commodore made sure to inform Mr. Pickle about his plans, which Mr. Pickle approved of, even though he was too intimidated by his wife’s objections to see the boy. Her dislike for her firstborn grew more intense and unexplainable every day. This strange behavior seemed to be fueled by a fact that, one would think, would have lessened her aversion. Her second son, Gam, who was now four years old, had been rickety since birth and was as unappealing in appearance as Perry was charming. As Gam’s deformities became more pronounced, the mother’s affection for him grew, while her hatred for her other son seemed to increase in equal measure.
Far from allowing Perry to enjoy the common privileges of a child, she would not suffer him to approach his father's house, expressed uneasiness whenever his name happened to be mentioned, sickened at his praise, and in all respects behaved like a most rancorous step-mother. Though she no longer retained that ridiculous notion of his being an impostor, she still continued to abhor him, as if she really believed him to be such; and when any person desired to know the cause of her surprising dislike, she always lost her temper, and peevishly replied, that she had reasons of her own, which she was not obliged to declare: nay, so much was she infected by this vicious partiality, that she broke off all commerce with her sister-in-law and the commodore, because they favoured the poor child with their countenance and protection.
Far from letting Perry enjoy the simple privileges of childhood, she wouldn’t let him go near his father’s house, acted uneasy whenever his name came up, got upset when he was praised, and generally behaved like a really spiteful stepmother. Although she no longer held on to the silly idea that he was a fraud, she still couldn’t stand him, as if she truly believed he was. When someone asked her why she had such a surprising dislike for him, she would always lose her cool and snappily respond that she had her own reasons that she didn’t need to share. In fact, she was so affected by this unfair bias that she cut off all ties with her sister-in-law and the commodore because they supported the poor child.
Her malice, however, was frustrated by the love and generosity of Trunnion, who, having adopted him as his own son, equipped him accordingly, and carried him and his governor in his own coach to the place of destination, where they were settled on a very genteel footing, and everything regulated according to their desires.
Her spite, however, was thwarted by Trunnion's love and generosity. He had taken him in as his own son, outfitted him accordingly, and drove him and his caretaker in his own carriage to their destination, where they were established in a very respectable manner, and everything was arranged according to their wishes.
Mrs. Trunnion with great decency at the departure of her nephew, to whom, with a great many pious advices and injunctions to behave with submission and reverence towards his tutor, she presented a diamond ring of small value, and a gold medal, as tokens of her affection and esteem. As for the lieutenant, he accompanied them in the coach; and such was the friendship he had contracted for Perry, that when the commodore proposed to return, after having accomplished the intent of his journey, Jack absolutely refused to attend him, and signified his resolution to stay where he was.
Mrs. Trunnion showed great decorum when her nephew left, giving him a modest diamond ring and a gold medal as symbols of her love and respect, along with a lot of heartfelt advice about being respectful and obedient to his tutor. The lieutenant rode with them in the coach, and he had developed such a close friendship with Perry that when the commodore suggested going back after completing his journey, Jack firmly declined to go and expressed his intention to stay where he was.
Trunnion was the more startled a this declaration, as Hatchway was become so necessary to him in almost all the purposes of his life, that he foresaw he should not be able to exist without his company. Not a little affected with this consideration, he turned his eye ruefully upon the lieutenant, saying, in a piteous tone, “What! leave me at last, Jack, after we have weathered so many hard gales together? D— my limbs! I thought you had been more of an honest heart: I looked upon you as my foremast, and Tom Pipes as my mizen: now he is carried away, if so be as you go too, my standing rigging being decayed, d'ye see, the first squall will bring me by the board. D— ye, if in case I have given offence, can't you speak above-board? and I shall make you amends.”
Trunnion was even more shocked by this declaration, as Hatchway had become so essential to him in nearly every aspect of his life that he feared he wouldn’t be able to manage without his company. Quite affected by this thought, he looked sadly at the lieutenant and said in a pitiful tone, “What! Are you really going to leave me, Jack, after we've weathered so many tough times together? Damn my limbs! I thought you had a more honest heart: I saw you as my mainstay, and Tom Pipes as my support. Now that he's gone, if you leave too, my whole structure will fall apart, and the first storm will take me down. Damn you, if I’ve upset you in any way, can’t you be straight with me? I’ll make it right.”
Jack, being ashamed to own the true situation of his thoughts, after some hesitation, answered with perplexity and incoherence, “No, d— me! that an't the case neither: to be sure you always used me in an officer-like manner, that I must own, to give the devil his due, as the saying is; but for all that, this here is the case, I have some thoughts of going to school myself to learn your Latin lingo: for, as the saying is, Better late mend than never: and I am informed as how one can get more for the money here than anywhere else.”
Jack, feeling embarrassed about his true feelings, after some hesitation, replied with confusion and mixed-up words, “No, damn it! That’s not the case either: I’ll admit you’ve always treated me like an officer, which I give you credit for, as the saying goes; but still, here’s the thing, I’m thinking about going to school myself to learn your Latin language: because, as the saying goes, better late than never: and I’ve heard that you can get more for your money here than anywhere else.”
In vain did Trunnion endeavour to convince him of the folly of going to school at his years, by representing that the boys would make game of him, and that he would become a laughing-stock to all the world: he persisted in his resolution to stay, and the commodore was fain to have recourse to the mediation of Pipes and Perry, who employed their influence with Jack, and at last prevailed upon him to return to the garrison, after Trunnion had promised he should be at liberty to visit them once a month. This stipulation being settled, he and his friend took leave of the pupil, governor, and attendant, and next morning, set out for their habitation, which they reached in safety that same night.
Trunnion tried in vain to convince him that going to school at his age was a mistake, saying the other boys would tease him and that he would become a joke to everyone. Despite this, he was determined to stay, so the commodore had to turn to Pipes and Perry for help. They managed to persuade Jack to return to the garrison after Trunnion promised he could visit them once a month. Once this agreement was made, he and his friend said goodbye to the student, the governor, and the attendant, and the next morning, they set off for home, arriving safely that same night.
Such was Hatchway's reluctance to leave Peregrine, that he is said, for the first time in his life, to have looked misty at parting: certain I am, that on the road homewards, after a long pause of silence, which the commodore never dreamt of interrupting, he exclaimed all of a sudden, “I'll be d—d if the dog ha'nt given me some stuff to make me love him!” Indeed, there was something congenial in the disposition of these two friends, which never failed to manifest itself in the sequel, howsoever different their education, circumstances, and connections happened to be.
Hatchway was so unwilling to leave Peregrine that it's said he finally seemed misty at their farewell: I'm certain that on the way home, after a long stretch of silence that the commodore never thought to break, he suddenly shouted, “I’ll be damned if that dog hasn’t given me something to make me love him!” There was definitely a bond between these two friends that always showed itself later on, no matter how different their backgrounds, experiences, and social circles were.
CHAPTER XVI.
Peregrine distinguishes himself among his School-fellows, exposes his Tutor, and attracts the particular Notice of the Master.
Peregrine stands out among his classmates, reveals his teacher's flaws, and catches the special attention of the headmaster.
Thus left to the prosecution of his studies, Peregrine was in a little time a distinguished character, not only for his acuteness of apprehension, but also for that mischievous fertility of fancy, of which we have already given such pregnant examples. But as there was a great number of such luminaries in this new sphere to which he belonged, his talents were not so conspicuous while they shone in his single capacity, as they afterwards appeared, when they concentrated and reflected the rays of the whole constellation.
Thus focused on his studies, Peregrine quickly became a notable figure, not only for his sharp understanding but also for that playful creativity we’ve already showcased. However, since there were many bright minds in this new environment he was part of, his abilities weren’t as obvious when he operated alone, as they later became when they combined and amplified the brilliance of the entire group.
At first he confined himself to piddling game, exercising his genius upon his own tutor, who attracted his attention, by endeavouring to season his mind with certain political maxims, the fallacy of which he had discernment enough to perceive. Scarce a day passed in which he did not find means to render Mr. Jolter the object of ridicule: his violent prejudices, ludicrous vanity, awkward solemnity, and ignorance of mankind, afforded continual food for the raillery, petulance, and satire of his pupil, who never neglected an opportunity of laughing, and making others laugh, at his expense.
At first, he stuck to minor games, showcasing his talent on his own tutor, who caught his attention by trying to impart certain political ideas, the flaws of which he was sharp enough to notice. Hardly a day went by where he didn’t find a way to make Mr. Jolter a target of mockery: his extreme biases, ridiculous ego, clumsy seriousness, and lack of understanding of people provided endless material for the teasing, irritation, and criticism from his student, who never missed a chance to laugh and make others laugh at his expense.
Sometimes in their parties, by mixing brandy in his wine, he decoyed this pedagogue into a debauch, during which his caution forsook him, and he exposed himself to the censure of the company. Sometimes, when the conversation turned upon intricate subjects, he practised upon him the Socratic method of confutation, and, under pretence of being informed, by an artful train of puzzling questions insensibly betrayed him into self-contradiction.
Sometimes at their parties, by mixing brandy into his wine, he led this teacher into a wild night, during which his caution left him, and he exposed himself to criticism from the group. Other times, when the conversation shifted to complex topics, he used the Socratic method to challenge him, pretending to be curious, and with a clever series of confusing questions, subtly trapped him into contradicting himself.
All the remains of authority which he had hitherto preserved over Peregrine soon vanished; so that, for the future, no sort of ceremony subsisted between them, and all Mr. Jolter's precepts were conveyed in hints of friendly advice, which the other might either follow or neglect at his own pleasure. No wonder then that Peregrine gave a loose to his inclinations, and, by dint of genius and an enterprising temper, made a figure among the younger class of heroes in the school.
All the authority he had previously held over Peregrine quickly disappeared, so from then on, there was no formal relationship between them. Mr. Jolter’s advice was offered as friendly suggestions, which Peregrine could choose to follow or ignore as he liked. It's no surprise that Peregrine let his inclinations take over and, thanks to his talent and adventurous spirit, stood out among the younger heroes at the school.
Before he had been a full year at Winchester, he had signallized himself in so many achievements, in defiance to the laws and regulations of the place, that he was looked upon with admiration, and actually chosen dux, or leader, by a large body of his contemporaries. It was not long before his fame reached the ears of the master, who sent for Mr. Jolter, communicated to him the informations he had received, and desired him to check the vivacity of his charge, and redouble his vigilance in time to come, else he should be obliged to make a public example of his pupil for the benefit of the school.
Before he had completed a full year at Winchester, he had distinguished himself with so many accomplishments, disregarding the rules and regulations of the place, that he was regarded with admiration and actually elected dux, or leader, by a large group of his peers. It wasn't long before his reputation reached the master, who summoned Mr. Jolter, shared the information he had received, and asked him to rein in the enthusiasm of his student and increase his vigilance moving forward; otherwise, he would have to make a public example of his pupil for the sake of the school.
The governor, conscious of his own unimportance, was not a little disconcerted at this injunction, which it was not in his power to fulfil by any compulsive means. He therefore went home in a very pensive mood, and after mature deliberation, resolved to expostulate with Peregrine in the most familiar terms, and endeavour to dissuade him from practices which might affect his character as well as interest. He accordingly frankly told him the subject of the master's discourse; represented the disgrace he might incur by neglecting this warning; and, putting him in mind of his own situation, hinted the consequences of the commodore's displeasure, in case he should be brought to disapprove of his conduct. These insinuations made the greater impression as they were delivered with many expressions of friendship and concern. The young gentleman was not so raw, but that he could perceive the solidity of Mr. Jolter's advice, to which he promised to conform, because his pride was interested in the affair, and he considered his own reformation as the only means of avoiding that infamy which even in idea he could not bear.
The governor, aware of his own insignificance, was quite unsettled by this order, which he couldn’t enforce through any means. He went home feeling very thoughtful and, after careful consideration, decided to talk to Peregrine in a friendly manner and try to persuade him against actions that might harm his reputation as well as his interests. He openly shared with him what the master had discussed; pointed out the disgrace he could face by ignoring this warning; and, reminding him of his own situation, hinted at the possible repercussions of the commodore’s anger if he disapproved of his actions. These suggestions made a strong impact since they were communicated with genuine expressions of friendship and concern. The young man wasn’t so naive that he couldn’t see the value in Mr. Jolter’s advice, which he agreed to follow, as his pride was at stake and he viewed his own improvement as the only way to avoid the shame that he couldn’t even bear to think of.
His governor, finding him so reasonable, profited by these moments of reflection; and, in order to prevent a relapse, proposed that he should engage in some delightful study that would agreeably amuse his imagination, and gradually detach him from those connections which had involved him in so many troublesome adventures. For this purpose, he, with many rapturous encomiums, recommended the mathematics, as yielding more rational and sensible pleasures to a youthful fancy than any other subject of contemplation; and actually began to read Euclid with him that same afternoon.
His governor, seeing how reasonable he was, took advantage of these moments of reflection and suggested that he get involved in some enjoyable study that would pleasantly engage his imagination and help him slowly distance himself from the connections that had led to so many troublesome adventures. To this end, he enthusiastically recommended mathematics, claiming it offered more rational and sensible pleasures for a young mind than any other subject could. He even started reading Euclid with him that very afternoon.
Peregrine entered upon this branch of learning with all that warmth of application which boys commonly yield on the first change of study; but he had scarce advanced beyond the Pons Asinorum, when his ardour abated; the test of truth by demonstration did not elevate him to those transports of joy with which his preceptor had regaled his expectation; and before he arrived at the forty-seventh proposition, he began to yawn drearily, make abundance of wry faces, and thought himself but indifferently paid for his attention, when he shared the vast discovery of Pythagoras, and understood that the square of the hypotenuse was equal to the squares of the other two sides of a right-angled triangle. He was ashamed, however, to fail in his undertaking, and persevered with great industry, until he had finished the first four books, acquired plane trigonometry, with the method of algebraical calculation, and made himself well acquainted with the principles of surveying. But no consideration could prevail upon him to extend his inquiries farther in this science; and he returned with double relish to his former avocations, like a stream, which, being dammed, accumulates more force, and, bursting over its mounds, rushes down with double impetuosity.
Peregrine jumped into this area of study with the enthusiasm that boys usually show when they start something new. However, he barely got past the basics when his excitement began to fade. The rigorous tests of truth didn’t give him the joy he expected from his teacher, and by the time he reached the forty-seventh proposition, he started to yawn, make faces, and felt that his efforts weren't really worth it when he learned about Pythagoras’ major revelation—that the square of the hypotenuse equals the sum of the squares of the other two sides of a right triangle. He felt embarrassed to give up, though, and worked hard until he finished the first four books, learned plane trigonometry, got the hang of algebraic calculation, and became familiar with the principles of surveying. But nothing could convince him to dig deeper into this subject, and he went back to his previous interests with even more enthusiasm, like a stream that, when blocked, builds up momentum and then rushes down with greater force.
Mr. Jolter saw with astonishment and chagrin, but could not resist the torrent. His behaviour was now no other than a series of license and effrontery; prank succeeded prank, and outrage followed outrage with surprising velocity. Complaints were every day preferred against him; in vain were admonitions bestowed by the governor in private, and menaces discharged by the masters in public; he disregarded the first, despised the latter, divested himself of all manner of restraint, and proceeded in his career to such a pitch of audacity, that a consultation was held upon the subject, in which it was determined that this untoward spirit should be humbled by a severe and ignominious flogging for the very next offence he should commit. In the mean time, Mr. Jolter was desired to write in the masters name to the commodore, requesting him to remove Tom Pipes from the person of his nephew, the said Pipes being a principal actor and abettor in all his malversations; and to put a stop to the monthly visitations of the mutilated lieutenant, who had never once failed to use his permission, but came punctual to a day, always fraught with some new invention. Indeed, by this time Mr. Hatchway was as well known, and much better beloved, by every boy in the school than the master who instructed him, and always received by a number of scholars, who used to attend Peregrine when he went forth to meet his friend, and conduct him to his lodging with public testimonies of joy and applause.
Mr. Jolter watched in shock and frustration but couldn’t resist the overwhelming chaos. His behavior had turned into nothing but a string of misdeeds and boldness; one prank followed another, and shocking acts came at an astonishing speed. Every day, complaints were made against him; the governor's private warnings and the masters' public threats were in vain; he ignored the first and scoffed at the latter, throwing off all restraint and pushing his audacity to such an extreme that a meeting was called to discuss the issue, where it was decided he would be punished with a severe and humiliating flogging for his next offense. In the meantime, Mr. Jolter was instructed to write to the commodore, on behalf of the masters, asking him to remove Tom Pipes from his nephew’s life, as Pipes was a key player and accomplice in all his wrongdoings; and to put an end to the monthly visits from the injured lieutenant, who never missed a chance to come on schedule, always bringing some new trouble. By this time, Mr. Hatchway was just as well-known and even more liked by every boy in the school than the master who taught them, and he was always welcomed by a group of students who would accompany Peregrine to meet his friend and escort him to his place with loud cheers and joy.
As for Tom Pipes, he was not so properly the attendant of Peregrine, as master of the revels of the whole school. He mingled in all their parties, and superintended the diversions, deciding between boy and boy, as if he acted by commission under the great seal. He regulated their motions by his whistle, instructed the young boys in the games of hustle-cap, leap-frog, and chuck-farthing; imparted to those of a more advanced age the sciences of cribbage and all-fours, together with the method of storming the castle, acting the comedy of Prince Arthur, and other pantomimes, as they commonly exhibited at sea; and instructed the seniors, who were distinguished by the appellation of bloods, in cudgel-playing, dancing the St. Giles's hornpipe, drinking flip, and smoking tobacco. These qualifications had rendered him so necessary and acceptable to the scholars, that exclusive of Perry's concern in the affair, his dismission, in all probability, would have produced some dangerous convulsion in the community. Jolter, therefore, knowing his importance, informed his pupil of the directions he had received, and very candidly asked how he should demean himself in the execution; for he durst not write to the commodore without this previous notice, fearing that the young gentleman, as soon as he should get an inkling of the affair, would follow the example, and make his uncle acquainted with certain anecdotes, which it was the governor's interest to keep concealed. Peregrine was of opinion that he should spare himself the trouble of conveying any complaints to the commodore; and if questioned by the master, assure him he had complied with his desire: at the same time he promised faithfully to conduct himself with such circumspection for the future, that the masters should have no temptation to revive the inquiry. But the resolution attending this extorted promise was too frail to last, and in less than a fortnight our young hero found himself entangled in an adventure from which he was not extricated with his usual good fortune.
As for Tom Pipes, he wasn't just Peregrine's attendant; he was the master of fun for the whole school. He was involved in all their gatherings and managed the activities, settling disputes between boys as if he had official authority. He directed their actions with his whistle, taught the younger boys games like hustle-cap, leap-frog, and chuck-farthing, and introduced the older ones to cribbage and all-fours, as well as how to storm the castle, perform the play Prince Arthur, and engage in other skits they usually put on by the sea. He also taught the older boys, known as "bloods," about cudgel-fighting, dancing the St. Giles's hornpipe, drinking flip, and smoking tobacco. His skills made him so important and liked by the students that, aside from Perry's involvement, getting rid of him would likely have caused serious unrest in the school. Knowing this, Jolter informed his pupil about the instructions he had received and honestly asked how he should handle it, since he didn’t want to write to the commodore without a heads-up. He worried that once the young gentleman caught wind of the situation, he would follow suit and inform his uncle of certain stories that the governor wanted to keep hidden. Peregrine thought he should skip the trouble of sending any complaints to the commodore and, if questioned by the master, assure him he had followed his wishes. He also promised to behave carefully in the future so that the masters wouldn’t have any reason to bring the matter up again. However, the resolve behind this forced promise was too weak to last, and within two weeks, our young hero found himself caught up in a situation from which he wasn't rescued with his usual luck.
CHAPTER XVII.
He is concerned in a dangerous Adventure with a certain Gardener—Sublimes his Ideas, commences Gallant, and becomes acquainted with Miss Emily Gauntlet.
He is involved in a risky adventure with a gardener—elevates his ideas, becomes a gentleman, and meets Miss Emily Gauntlet.
He and some of his companions one day entered a garden in the suburbs, and, having indulged their appetites, desired to know what satisfaction they must make for the fruit they had pulled. The gardener demanded what, in their opinion, was an exorbitant price, and they with many opprobrious terms refused to pay it. The peasant, being surly and untractable, insisted upon his right; neither was he deficient or sparing in the eloquence of vulgar abuse. His guests attempted to retreat; a scuffle ensued, in which Peregrine lost his cap; and the gardener, being in danger from the number of his foes, called to his wife to let loose the dog, which instantly flew to his master's assistance, and, after having torn the leg of one and the shoulder of another, put the whole body of scholars to flight. Enraged at the indignity which had been offered them, they solicited a reinforcement of their friends, and, with Tom Pipes at their head, marched back to the field of battle. Their adversary, seeing them approach, called his apprentice, who worked at the other end of the ground, to his assistance, armed him with a mattock, while he himself wielded a hoe, bolted his door on the inside, and, flanked with his man and mastiff, waited the attack without flinching.
He and a few friends entered a garden on the outskirts one day, and after having satisfied their hunger, they wanted to know how much they owed for the fruit they had picked. The gardener asked for what they thought was an outrageous price, and they refused to pay it, hurling many insults. The farmer, being grumpy and stubborn, insisted on his rights and didn’t hold back with his rude language. The group tried to leave, but a scuffle broke out, resulting in Peregrine losing his cap. The gardener, feeling threatened by their numbers, yelled to his wife to let the dog loose, which immediately came to his rescue and, after injuring one person’s leg and another's shoulder, scared the whole group of scholars away. Furious about the humiliation they faced, they sought backup from their friends and, led by Tom Pipes, marched back to confront the gardener. Seeing them approach, he called his apprentice, who was working at the other end of the garden, for help, armed him with a mattock while he grabbed a hoe, locked his door from the inside, and stood ready for the attack with his apprentice and mastiff beside him, unflinching.
He had not remained three minutes in this posture of defence, when Pipes, who acted as the enemy's forlorn hope, advanced to the gate with great intrepidity, and, clapping his foot to the door, which was none of the stoutest, with the execution and despatch of a petard, split it into a thousand pieces. This sudden execution had an immediate effect upon the apprentice, who retreated with great precipitation, and escaped at a postern; but the master placed himself, like another Hercules, in the breach; and when Pipes, brandishing his cudgel, stepped forward to engage him, leveled his weapon with such force and dexterity at his head, that had the skull been made of penetrable stuff, the iron edge must have cleft his pate in twain. Casemated as he was, the instrument cut sheer even to the bone, on which it struck with such amazing violence, that sparks of real fire were produced by the collision. And let not the incredulous reader pretend to doubt the truth of this phenomenon, until he shall have first perused the ingenious Peter Kolben's Natural History of the Cape of Good Hope, where the inhabitants commonly used to strike fire with the shin-bones of lions which had been killed in that part of Africa.
He had barely been in this defensive stance for three minutes when Pipes, who acted as the enemy's front line, boldly approached the gate and, kicking it with force—since it wasn't the strongest door—shattered it into a thousand pieces, just like a firecracker. This sudden act immediately affected the apprentice, who quickly backed away and fled through a side door; but the master stood firm, like another Hercules, in the gap. When Pipes, swinging his club, stepped forward to confront him, he aimed his weapon with such power and skill at Pipes’ head that if the skull had been made of anything softer, the sharp edge would have split it in half. Despite being protected, the weapon hit hard enough that it cut down to the bone, creating such force that real sparks flew from the impact. And let not the skeptical reader doubt this occurrence until they have first read the clever Peter Kolben's Natural History of the Cape of Good Hope, where locals would often strike fire using the shin bones of lions killed in that region of Africa.
Pipes, though a little disconcerted, far from being disabled by the blow, in a trice retorted the compliment with his truncheon, which, had not his antagonist expeditiously slipped his head aside, would have laid him breathless across his own threshold; but, happily for him, he received the salutation upon his right shoulder, which crashed beneath the stroke, and the hoe dropped instantly from his tingling hand. Tom, perceiving, and being unwilling to forego, the advantage he had gained, darted his head into the bosom of this son of earth, and overturned him on the plain, being himself that instant assaulted by the mastiff, who fastened upon the outside of his thigh. Feeling himself incommoded by this assailant in his rear, he quitted the prostrate gardener to the resentment of his associates, who poured upon him in shoals, and turning about, laid hold with both his hands of this ferocious animal's throat, which he squeezed with such incredible force and perseverance, that the creature quitted his hold; his tongue lolled out of his jaws, the blood started from his eyes, and he swung a lifeless trunk between the hands of his vanquisher.
Pipes, though a bit taken aback, was far from being out of the fight after the hit. In no time, he swung back with his club, which would have knocked his opponent out cold if he hadn't quickly dodged to the side. Luckily for him, the blow landed on his right shoulder, which crumpled under the impact, causing the hoe to drop from his numbed hand. Tom, noticing this and not wanting to lose his advantage, charged into the gardener's chest and knocked him down flat. But at that moment, he was attacked by the mastiff, which clamped onto his thigh. Feeling frustrated by this dog biting him from behind, he left the downed gardener to the anger of his friends, who rushed in from all sides. Turning around, he grabbed the throat of the fierce dog with both hands and squeezed with such amazing strength and determination that it let go. The dog’s tongue hung out of its mouth, blood poured from its eyes, and it dangled lifelessly in the hands of its conqueror.
It was well for his master that he did not longer exist: for by this time he was overwhelmed by such a multitude of foes, that his whole body scarce afforded points of contact to all the fists that drummed upon him; consequently, to use a vulgar phrase, his wind was almost knocked out, before Pipes had leisure to interpose in his he behalf, and persuade his offenders to desist, by representing that the wife had gone to alarm the neighbourhood, and in all probability they would be intercepted in their return. They accordingly listened to his remonstrances, and marched homewards in triumph, leaving the gardener in the embraces of his mother earth, from which he had not power to move when he was found by his disconsolate helpmate and some friends whom she had assembled for his assistance. Among these was a blacksmith and farrier, who took cognizance of his carcase, every limb of which having examined, he declared there was no bone broken, and taking out his fleam, blooded him plentifully as he lay. He was then conveyed to his bed, from which he was not able to stir during a whole month. His family coming upon the parish, a formal complaint was made to the master of the school, and Peregrine represented as the ringleader of those who committed this barbarous assault. An inquiry was immediately set on foot; and the articles of impeachment being fully proved, our hero was sentenced to be severely chastised in the face of the whole school. This was a disgrace, the thoughts of which his proud heart could not brook. He resolved to make his elopement rather than undergo the punishment to which he was doomed; and having signified his sentiments to his confederates, they promised one and all to stand by him, and either screen him from chastisement or share his fate.
It was fortunate for his master that he was no longer around: by this time, he was overwhelmed by so many enemies that his entire body barely had enough space for all the fists hitting him; as a result, to put it bluntly, he was nearly winded before Pipes had a chance to step in on his behalf and convince his attackers to stop by pointing out that the wife had gone to alert the neighborhood, and they would likely be caught on their way back. They listened to his pleas and headed home in triumph, leaving the gardener sprawled on the ground, unable to move when his distraught wife and some friends she had gathered found him. Among them was a blacksmith and farrier, who examined his body and, after checking every limb, declared that no bones were broken. He then took out his tool, bled him thoroughly while he lay there, and he was carried to his bed, from which he couldn’t move for an entire month. His family, relying on public assistance, formally complained to the schoolmaster, and Peregrine was identified as the leader of those who carried out this brutal attack. An investigation was launched, and when the evidence against him was thoroughly established, our hero was sentenced to be publicly punished in front of the entire school. This disgrace was something his proud heart couldn’t tolerate. He decided to escape rather than face the punishment ahead; after sharing his thoughts with his friends, they all pledged to support him, either protecting him from punishment or sharing in his fate.
Confiding in this friendly protestation, he appeared unconcerned on the day that was appointed for his punishment; and when he was called to his destiny, advanced the scene, attended by the greatest part of the scholars, who intimated their determination to the master, and proposed that Peregrine should be forgiven. The superior behaved with that dignity of demeanour which became his place, represented the folly and presumption of their demand, reprehended them for their audacious proceeding, and ordered every boy to his respective station. They obeyed his command, and our unfortunate hero was publicly horsed, in terrorem of all whom it might concern.
Confiding in this friendly plea, he seemed unfazed on the day set for his punishment; and when he was called to face his fate, he approached the scene with most of the students, who expressed their intention to the teacher and suggested that Peregrine should be pardoned. The teacher maintained the dignity appropriate to his position, pointed out the foolishness and arrogance of their request, reprimanded them for their bold actions, and sent every student to their respective places. They followed his orders, and our unfortunate hero was publicly humiliated, as a warning to all those involved.
This disgrace had a very sensible effect upon the mind of Peregrine, who, having by this time, passed the fourteenth year of his age, began to adopt the pride and sentiments of a man. Thus dishonourably stigmatized, he was ashamed to appear in public as usual; he was incensed against his companions for their infidelity and irresolution, and plunged into a profound reverie that lasted several weeks, during which he shook off his boyish connections, and fixed his view upon objects which he thought more worthy of his attention.
This shame deeply affected Peregrine, who, now that he was fourteen, started to embrace the pride and feelings of an adult. Stigmatized in such a dishonorable way, he felt embarrassed to be seen in public as he usually would; he was angry with his friends for their betrayal and lack of commitment, and he fell into a deep reflection that lasted for several weeks. During this time, he distanced himself from his childish relationships and focused on things he deemed more deserving of his attention.
In the course of his gymnastic exercises, at which he was very expert, he contracted intimacies with several youths who were greatly his superiors in point of age, and who, pleased with his aspiring genius and address, introduced him into parties of gallantry which strongly captivated his inclination. He was by nature particularly adopted for succeeding in all adventures of this kind: over and above a most engaging person that improved with his years, he possessed a dignified assurance, an agreeable ferocity which enhanced the conquest of the fair who had the good fortune to enslave him, unlimited generosity, and a fund of humour which never failed to please. Nor was he deficient in the more solid accomplishments of youth: he had profited in his studies beyond expectation; and besides that sensibility of discernment which is the foundation of taste, and in consequence of which he distinguished and enjoyed the beauties of the classics, he had already given several specimens of a very promising poetic talent.
During his gymnastic training, in which he excelled, he formed close friendships with several older youths who, impressed by his ambition and charm, introduced him to social gatherings that greatly interested him. He was naturally suited to succeed in these kinds of adventures: in addition to being very attractive, which only improved with age, he had a confident demeanor, an appealing fierceness that made him more attractive to the women fortunate enough to win his attention, boundless generosity, and a sense of humor that always delighted others. He also wasn't lacking in more substantial skills typical of youth: he had excelled in his studies beyond expectations; and besides having the discernment that forms the basis of taste, which allowed him to appreciate the beauty of the classics, he had already shown promising talent in poetry.
With this complexion and these qualifications, no wonder that our hero attracted the notice and affections of the young Delias in town, whose hearts had just begun to flutter for they knew not what. Inquiries were made concerning his condition; and no sooner were his expectations known, than he was invited and caressed by all the parents, while the daughters vied with each other in treating him with particular complacency. He inspired love and emulation wherever he appeared: envy and jealous rage followed of course; so that he became a very desirable, though a very dangerous acquaintance. His moderation was not equal to his success: his vanity took the lead of his passions, dissipating his attention, which might otherwise have fixed him to one object; and he was possessed with the rage of increasing the number of his conquests. With this view he frequented public walks, concerts, and assemblies, became remarkably rich and fashionable in his clothes, gave entertainments to the ladies, and was in the utmost hazard of turning out a most egregious coxcomb.
With his looks and impressive qualities, it’s no surprise that our hero caught the attention and affections of the young women in town, whose hearts had just started to flutter for reasons they didn’t quite understand. People started asking about his background, and as soon as his prospects became known, he was invited and showered with attention by all the parents, while the daughters competed to treat him with particular kindness. He inspired love and rivalry wherever he went: envy and jealousy naturally followed, making him a highly desirable, yet risky, acquaintance. His self-control couldn’t keep up with his popularity: his vanity overshadowed his emotions, scattering his focus, which could have otherwise anchored him to one person; instead, he was consumed with the desire to increase his number of admirers. With this in mind, he began to frequent public parks, concerts, and social gatherings, dressed in particularly fashionable and expensive clothes, hosted events for the ladies, and was at great risk of becoming an unbearable show-off.
While his character thus wavered between the ridicule of some and the regard of others, an accident happened which by contracting his view to one object, detached him from those vain pursuits that would in time have plunged him into an abyss of folly and contempt. Being one evening at the ball which is always given to the ladies at the time of the races, the person acted as master of the ceremonies, knowing how fond Mr. Pickle was of every opportunity to display himself, came up, and told him, that there was a fine young creature at the other end of the room, who seemed to have a great inclination to dance a minuet, but wanted a partner, the gentleman who attended her being in boots.
While his character fluctuated between the mockery of some and the admiration of others, an incident occurred that focused his attention on one thing and pulled him away from those pointless pursuits that would eventually have led him into a pit of foolishness and disdain. One evening at the ball held for the ladies during the races, the master of ceremonies, aware of how much Mr. Pickle enjoyed any chance to showcase himself, approached him and mentioned that there was a beautiful young woman at the far end of the room who seemed eager to dance a minuet but was in need of a partner, as the gentleman accompanying her was wearing boots.
Peregrine's vanity being aroused at this intimation, he went up to reconnoitre the young lady, and was struck with admiration at her beauty. She seemed to be of his own age, was tall, though slender, exquisitely shaped; her hair was auburn, and in such plenty, that the barbarity of dress had not been able to prevent it from shading both sides of her forehead, which was high and polished; the contour of her face was oval; her nose very little raised into the aquiline form, that contributed to the spirit and dignity of her aspect; her mouth was small; her lips plump, juicy, and delicious, her teeth regular and white as driven snow, her complexion incredibly delicate, and glowing with health; and her full blue eyes beamed forth vivacity and love: her mien was at the same time commanding and engaging, her address perfectly genteel, and her whole appearance so captivating, that our young Adonis looked, and was overcome.
Peregrine's vanity was piqued by this hint, so he went to check out the young lady and was struck by her beauty. She seemed to be around his age, tall but slender, and exquisitely shaped; her hair was auburn and so abundant that her dress couldn’t keep it from framing both sides of her high, polished forehead. Her face had an oval shape; her nose was slightly aquiline, adding to the spirit and dignity of her features; her mouth was small, with plump, juicy, and delicious lips, and her teeth were neat and as white as snow. Her complexion was incredibly delicate, glowing with health, and her full blue eyes shone with liveliness and affection. Her presence was both commanding and charming, her manner perfectly refined, and her entire appearance was so captivating that our young Adonis was left mesmerized.
He no sooner recollected himself from his astonishment, than he advanced to her with a graceful air of respect, and begged she would do him the honour to walk a minuet with him. She seemed particularly pleased with his application, and very frankly complied with his request. This pair was too remarkable to escape the particular notice of the company; Mr. Pickle was well known by almost everybody in the room, but his partner was altogether a new face and of consequence underwent the criticism of all the ladies in the assembly. One whispered, “She has a good complexion, but don't you think she is a little awry?” a second pitied her for her masculine nose; a third observed, that she was awkward for want of seeing company; a fourth distinguished something very bold in her countenance; and, in short, there was not a beauty in her whole composition which the glass of envy did not pervert into a blemish.
He barely collected himself from his shock when he approached her with a respectful charm and asked if she would honor him by dancing a minuet with him. She seemed genuinely pleased by his request and readily agreed. This couple was too striking to go unnoticed by the others in the room; Mr. Pickle was recognized by almost everyone present, but his partner was an entirely new face and therefore attracted the scrutiny of all the ladies in attendance. One whispered, “She has a nice complexion, but don’t you think she’s a bit off?” another felt sorry for her because of her strong nose; a third commented that she seemed awkward from not being in society; a fourth noticed something quite bold in her expression; and, in short, there wasn’t a single aspect of her appearance that envy didn’t twist into a flaw.
The men, however, looked upon her with different eyes; among them her appearance produced a universal murmur of applause: they encircled the space on which she danced, and were enchanted by her graceful motion. While they launched out in the praise of her, they expressed their displeasure at the good fortune of her partner, whom they d—d for a little finical coxcomb, that was too much engrossed by the contemplation of his own person, to discern or deserve the favour of his fate. He did not hear, therefore could not repine at these invectives; but while they imagined he indulged his vanity, a much more generous passion had taken possession of his heart.
The men, however, viewed her differently; her presence sparked a wave of admiration among them: they surrounded the area where she danced, captivated by her graceful movements. While they praised her, they voiced their annoyance at the luck of her partner, whom they criticized as a vain show-off, too absorbed in his own appearance to appreciate or deserve his good fortune. He didn’t hear them, so he couldn't be upset by their insults; but while they thought he was feeding his ego, a much deeper feeling had taken hold of his heart.
Instead of that petulance of gaiety for which he had been distinguished in his public appearance, he now gave manifest signs of confusion and concern: he danced with an anxiety which impeded his performance, and blushed to the eyes at every false step he made. Though this extraordinary agitation was overlooked by the men, it could not escape the observation of the ladies, who perceived it with equal surprise and resentment; and when Peregrine led this fair unknown to her seat, expressed their pique in an affected titter, which broke from every mouth at the same instant—as if all of them had been informed by the same spirit.
Instead of the playful joy he was known for in public, he now showed clear signs of confusion and worry: he danced with a nervousness that hindered his performance and blushed deeply with every misstep he took. While the men overlooked this unusual agitation, the women noticed it with equal surprise and displeasure; and when Peregrine took this beautiful stranger to her seat, they expressed their annoyance with a fake giggle that erupted from everyone at the same moment—as if they had all been prompted by the same thought.
Peregrine was nettled at this unmannerly mark of disapprobation, and, in order to increase their chagrin, endeavoured to enter into particular conversation with their fair rival. The young lady herself, who neither wanted penetration nor the consciousness of her own accomplishments, resented their behaviour, though she triumphed at the cause of it, and gave her partner all the encouragement he could desire. Her mother, who was present, thanked him for his civility in taking such notice of a stranger, and he received a compliment of the same nature from the young gentleman in boots, who was her own brother.
Peregrine was irritated by this rude show of disapproval and, wanting to make them even more uncomfortable, tried to engage in a conversation with their attractive rival. The young lady herself, who was neither lacking in insight nor unaware of her own talents, took offense at their behavior, even though she reveled in the reason behind it, and gave her partner all the support he could want. Her mother, who was there, thanked him for being polite and paying such attention to a stranger, and he received a similar compliment from the young gentleman in boots, who was her brother.
If he was charmed with her appearance, he was quite ravished with her discourse, which was sensible, spirited, and gay. Her frank and sprightly demeanour excited his own confidence and good-humour; and he described to her the characters of those females who had honoured them with such a spiteful mark of distinction, in terms so replete with humorous satire, that she seemed to listen with particular complacency of attention, and distinguished every nymph thus ridiculed with such a significant glance as overwhelmed her with chagrin and mortification. In short, they seemed to relish each other's conversation, during which our young Damon acquitted himself with great skill in all the duties of gallantry: he laid hold of proper opportunities to express his admiration of her charms, had recourse to the silent rhetoric of tender looks, breathed divers insidious sighs, and attached himself wholly to her during the remaining part of the entertainment.
If he was captivated by her looks, he was completely enchanted by her conversation, which was smart, lively, and cheerful. Her open and lively demeanor boosted his confidence and good spirits; he described to her the personalities of the women who had given them such a spiteful badge of distinction, using words full of humorous satire, which made her listen with particular pleasure and pay special attention to each girl he mocked, giving them such a significant glance that it left her overwhelmed with embarrassment and frustration. In short, they seemed to enjoy each other's company, during which our young Damon proved himself very skilled in all the acts of courtliness: he took the right moments to express his admiration for her beauty, used the silent language of tender glances, let out various suggestive sighs, and devoted himself entirely to her for the rest of the event.
When the company broke up, he attended her to her lodgings, and took leave of her with a squeeze of the hand, after having obtained permission to visit her next morning, and been informed by the mother that her name was Miss Emilia Gauntlet.
When the company ended, he walked her to her place and said goodbye with a handshake after getting permission to see her the next morning. Her mother informed him that her name was Miss Emilia Gauntlet.
All night long he closed not an eye, but amused himself with plans of pleasure, which his imagination suggested in consequence of this new acquaintance. He rose with the lark, adjusted his hair into an agreeable negligence of curl, and dressing himself in a genteel gray frock trimmed with silver binding, waited with the utmost impatience for the hour of ten, which no sooner struck than he hied him to the place of appointment, and inquiring for Miss gauntlet, was shown into a parlour. Here he had not waited above ten minutes, when Emilia entered in a most enchanting undress, with all the graces of nature playing about her person, and in a moment riveted the chains of his slavery beyond the power of accident to unbind.
All night long, he couldn’t sleep, but entertained himself with plans for fun that his imagination came up with because of this new acquaintance. He woke up with the sunrise, styled his hair in a casually tousled way, and dressed in a smart gray coat trimmed with silver. He waited eagerly for ten o’clock, and as soon as the hour struck, he rushed to the meeting spot. After asking for Miss Gauntlet, he was shown into a parlor. He hadn’t waited more than ten minutes when Emilia walked in, looking absolutely stunning in her casual attire, with all the natural charms surrounding her, instantly binding him in a way that nothing could ever break.
Her mother being still abed, and her brother gone to give orders about the chaise, in which they proposed to return that same day to their own habitation, he enjoyed her company a whole hour, during which he declared his love in the most passionate terms, and begged that he might be admitted into the number of those admirers whom she permitted to visit and adore her.
Her mother was still in bed, and her brother had gone to arrange the carriage they planned to take back home that day, so he got to spend a whole hour with her. During that time, he declared his love in the most passionate way and begged to be included among the admirers she allowed to visit and adore her.
She affected to look upon his vows and protestations as the ordinary effect of gallantry, and very obligingly assured him that were she to live in that place she should be glad to see him often; but as the spot on which she resided was at a considerable distance, she could not expect he would go so far, upon such a trifling occasion, as to take the trouble of providing himself with her mamma's permission.
She pretended to view his promises and claims as just typical flirting, and kindly told him that if she lived there, she'd be happy to see him often. However, since she lived quite a distance away, she couldn't really expect him to travel that far for such a minor matter like getting her mom's permission.
To this favourable hint he with all the eagerness of the most fervent passion, that he had uttered nothing but the genuine dictates of his heart; that he desired nothing so much as an opportunity of evincing the sincerity of his professions; and that, though he lived at the extremity of the kingdom, he would find means to lay himself at her feet, provided he could visit her with her mother's consent, which he assured her he would not fail to solicit.
To this encouraging suggestion, he responded with all the eagerness of his deepest feelings, insisting that he had expressed nothing but the true desires of his heart; that he wanted nothing more than a chance to prove the sincerity of his words; and that, even though he lived at the farthest edge of the kingdom, he would find a way to lay himself at her feet, as long as he could visit her with her mother’s permission, which he assured her he would definitely ask for.
She then gave him to understand that her habitation was about sixteen miles from Winchester, in a village which she named, and where, as he could easily collect from her discourse, he would be no unwelcome guest.
She then let him know that her home was about sixteen miles from Winchester, in a village she mentioned, and where, as he could easily gather from what she said, he would be a welcome guest.
In the midst of this communication they were joined by Mrs. Gauntlet, who received him with great courtesy, thanking him again for his politeness to Emy at the ball, and anticipated his intention by saying that she should be very glad to see him at her house, if ever his occasions should call him that way.
In the middle of their conversation, Mrs. Gauntlet joined them and greeted him warmly, thanking him once more for being so kind to Emy at the ball. She anticipated his intention by saying she would be very happy to have him at her house if he ever happened to be in the area.
CHAPTER XVIII.
He inquires into the Situation of this young Lady, with whom he is enamoured—Elopes from School—Is found by the Lieutenant, conveyed to Winchester, and sends a Letter with a copy of verses to his Mistress.
He asks about the situation of the young woman he's in love with—runs away from school—gets found by the Lieutenant, taken to Winchester, and sends a letter with a poem to his girlfriend.
He was transported with pleasure at this invitation, which he assured her he should not neglect; and after a little more conversation on general topics, took his leave of the charming Emilia and her prudent mamma, who had perceived the first emotions of Mr. Pickle's passion for her daughter, and been at some pains to inquire about his family and fortune.
He was thrilled by this invitation, which he promised he wouldn’t ignore; and after chatting a bit more about general topics, he said goodbye to the lovely Emilia and her sensible mom, who had noticed the early signs of Mr. Pickle's feelings for her daughter and had made some effort to learn about his family and wealth.
Neither was Peregrine less inquisitive about the situation and pedigree of his new mistress, who, he learned, was the only daughter of a field-officer, who died before he had it in his power to make suitable provision for his children; that the widow lived in a frugal though decent manner on her pension, assisted by the bounty of her relations; that the son carried arms as a volunteer in the company which his father had commanded; and that Emilia had been educated in London, at the expense of a rich uncle, who was seized with the whim of marrying at the age of fifty-five; in consequence of which his niece had returned to her mother, without any visible dependence, except on her own conduct and qualifications.
Peregrine was just as curious about the background and situation of his new mistress. He found out that she was the only daughter of a field officer who had died before he could provide for his children. The widow managed to live a modest but decent life on her pension, helped by the generosity of her relatives. Her son served as a volunteer in the company his father had commanded. Emilia was educated in London, funded by a wealthy uncle who decided to marry at fifty-five. Because of this, his niece returned to her mother without any apparent support other than her own abilities and character.
This account, though it could not diminish his affection, nevertheless alarmed his pride; for his warm imagination had exaggerated all his own prospects; and he began to fear that his passion for Emilia might be thought to derogate from the dignity of his situation. The struggle between his interest and love produced a perplexity which had an evident effect upon his behaviour: he became pensive, solitary, and peevish; avoided public diversions; and grew so remarkably negligent in his dress, that he was scarce distinguishable by his own acquaintance. This contention of thoughts continued several weeks, at the end of which the charms of Emilia triumphed over every other consideration. Having received a supply of money from the commodore, who acted towards him with great generosity, he ordered Pipes to put up some linen and other necessaries in a sort of knapsack, which he could conveniently carry; and, thus attended, set out early one morning on foot for the village where his charmer lived, at which he arrived before two o'clock in the afternoon; having chosen this method of travelling that his route might not be so easily discovered, as it must have been had he hired horses, or taken a place in the stage-coach.
This account, while it couldn't lessen his feelings, did worry his pride; his imaginative mind had blown his expectations out of proportion, and he began to fear that his love for Emilia might be seen as beneath his social status. The conflict between his personal interests and his feelings created a confusion that clearly affected his behavior: he became thoughtful, withdrawn, and irritable; he avoided social events and became so careless about his appearance that even his friends barely recognized him. This internal struggle lasted for several weeks, after which Emilia's charm overcame every other concern. After receiving a generous sum of money from the commodore, he instructed Pipes to pack some clothes and other necessities into a small backpack that he could easily carry. With that, he set out early one morning on foot for the village where his beloved lived, arriving before two o'clock in the afternoon; he chose this method of travel to keep his route less obvious, as it would have been if he had rented horses or taken a stagecoach.
The first thing he did was to secure a convenient lodging at the inn where he dined; then he shifted himself, and, according to the direction he had received, went to the house of Mrs. Gauntlet in a transport of joyous expectation. As he approached the gate, his agitation increased; he knocked with impatience and concern, the door opened, and he had actually asked if Mrs. Gauntlet was at home, before he perceived that the portress was no other than his dear Emilia. She was not without emotion at the unexpected sight of her lover, who instantly recognising his charmer obeyed the irresistible impulse of his love, and caught the fair creature in his arms. Nor did she seem offended at this forwardness of behaviour, which might have displeased another of a less open disposition, or less used to the freedom of a sensible education; but her natural frankness had been encouraged and improved by the easy and familiar intercourse in which she had been bred; and therefore, instead of reprimanding him with a severity of look, she with great good humour rallied him upon his assurance, which, she observed, was undoubtedly the effect of his own conscious merit; and conducted him into a parlour, where he found her mother, who, in very polite terms, expressed her satisfaction at seeing him within her house.
The first thing he did was book a comfortable room at the inn where he had dinner; then he changed and, following the directions he received, headed to Mrs. Gauntlet's house, full of joyful anticipation. As he got closer to the gate, his excitement grew; he knocked with impatience and worry, the door swung open, and he had actually asked if Mrs. Gauntlet was home before he realized that the person answering the door was none other than his dear Emilia. She felt a wave of emotion at the sudden sight of her lover, who, immediately recognizing his beloved, couldn't resist the urge of his love and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t seem upset by this bold move, which might have bothered someone else with a more reserved personality or less accustomed to the freedoms of an enlightened upbringing; her natural openness had been nurtured by the easy and familiar relationships she had grown up with. So, rather than scolding him with a harsh look, she playfully teased him about his confidence, which she noted was surely a result of his own self-worth, and led him into a sitting room, where he found her mother, who politely expressed her pleasure at having him in her home.
After tea, Miss Emy proposed an evening walk, which they enjoyed through a variety of little copses and lawns, watered by a most romantic stream, that quite enchanted the imagination of Peregrine.
After tea, Miss Emy suggested an evening walk, which they enjoyed through a variety of small woods and lawns, refreshed by a charming stream that completely captivated Peregrine's imagination.
It was late before they returned from this agreeable excursion, and when our lover wished the ladies good night, Mrs. Gauntlet insisted upon his staying to supper, and treated him with particular demonstrations of regard and affection. As her economy was not encumbered with an unnecessary number of domestics, her own presence was often required in different parts of the house, so that the young gentleman was supplied with frequent opportunities of promoting his suit by all the tender oaths and insinuations that his passion could suggest. He protested her idea had taken such entire possession of his heart, that finding himself unable to support her absence one day longer, he had quitted his studies, and left his governor by stealth, that he might visit the object of his adoration, and be blessed in her company for a few days without interruption.
It was late when they got back from this enjoyable outing, and as our lover bid the ladies goodnight, Mrs. Gauntlet insisted he stay for supper and showed him special signs of affection and regard. Since she didn't have too many staff members around, she often needed to be in different parts of the house, which gave the young man plenty of chances to woo her with all the sweet promises and hints his feelings could come up with. He declared that her image had completely taken over his heart, and feeling unable to bear her absence for even a day longer, he had sneaked away from his studies and left his tutor quietly so he could visit the object of his affection and enjoy her company for a few days without any interruptions.
She listened to his addresses with such affability as denoted approbation and delight, and gently chided him as a thoughtless truant, but carefully avoided the confession of a mutual flame; because she discerned, in the midst of all his tenderness, a levity of pride which she durst not venture to trust with such a declaration. Perhaps she was confirmed in this caution by her mother, who very wisely, in her civilities to him, maintained a sort of ceremonious distance, which she thought not only requisite for the honour and interest of her family, but likewise for her own exculpation, should she ever be taxed with having encouraged or abetted him in the imprudent sallies of his youth; yet, notwithstanding this affected reserve, he was treated with such distinction by both, that he was ravished with his situation, and became more and more enamoured every day.
She listened to his speeches with such friendliness that showed her approval and delight, and gently teased him as a careless wanderer, but carefully avoided admitting any mutual feelings; because she sensed, beneath all his tenderness, a pridefulness that she didn’t dare trust with such a confession. Maybe her caution was reinforced by her mother, who very sensibly, in her courtesies to him, kept a sort of formal distance, which she believed was necessary for the honor and interest of their family, and also for her own protection, in case she was ever accused of encouraging or supporting him in the reckless antics of his youth; yet, despite this affected reserve, he was treated with such distinction by both that he was thrilled with his position and became more and more infatuated every day.
While he remained under the influence of this sweet intoxication, his absence produced great disturbance at Winchester. Mr. Jolter was grievously afflicted at his abrupt departure, which alarmed him the more, as it happened after a long fit of melancholy which he had perceived in his pupil. He communicated his apprehensions to the master of the school, who advised him to apprise the commodore of his nephew's disappearance, and in the mean time inquire at all the inns in town, whether he had hired horses, or any sort of carriage, for his conveyance, or was met with on the road by any person who could give an account of the direction in which he travelled.
While he was still caught up in this sweet intoxication, his absence caused a lot of trouble in Winchester. Mr. Jolter was seriously troubled by his sudden departure, which worried him even more because it came after a long period of sadness he had noticed in his student. He shared his concerns with the schoolmaster, who suggested that he inform the commodore about his nephew's disappearance, and in the meantime, check with all the inns in town to see if he had rented horses or any kind of carriage for travel, or if anyone on the road had seen him and could provide information on which way he went.
The scrutiny, though performed with great diligence and minuteness, was altogether ineffectual; they could obtain no intelligence of the runaway. Mr. Trunnion was well distracted at the news of his flight; he raved with great fury at the imprudence of Peregrine, whom in his first transports he d—d as an ungrateful deserter; then he cursed Hatchway and Pipes, who he swore had foundered the lad by their pernicious counsels; and, lastly, transferred his execrations upon Jolter, because he had not kept a better look-out; finally, he made an apostrophe to that son of a b— the gout, which for the present disabled him from searching for his nephew in person. That he might not, however, neglect any means in his power, he immediately despatched expresses to all the sea-port towns on that coast, that he might be prevented from leaving the kingdom; and the lieutenant, at his own desire, was sent across the country, in quest of this young fugitive.
The investigation, although carried out with great care and attention to detail, was completely useless; they couldn't get any information about the runaway. Mr. Trunnion was completely thrown off by the news of his escape; he raged with such anger at Peregrine, whom he initially cursed as an ungrateful traitor; then he blamed Hatchway and Pipes, insisting they had led the boy astray with their harmful advice; and finally, he turned his anger on Jolter for not keeping a better watch. In the end, he even cursed the gout that was preventing him from personally searching for his nephew. Nevertheless, he didn't want to miss any opportunity, so he quickly sent messages to all the seaside towns on that coast to stop him from leaving the country; and the lieutenant, at his own request, was sent across the countryside in search of the young runaway.
Four days had he unsuccessfully carried on his inquiries with great accuracy, when, resolving to return by Winchester, where he hoped to meet with some hints of intelligence by which he might profit in his future search, he struck off the common road to take the benefit of a nearer cut; and finding himself benighted near a village, took up his lodgings at the first inn to which his horse directed him. Having bespoke something for supper, and retired to his chamber, where he amused himself with a pipe, he heard a confused noise of rustic jollity, which being all of a sudden interrupted, after a short pause his ear was saluted with the voice of Pipes, who, at the solicitation of the company, began to entertain them with a song.
He had spent four days trying to gather information without success. Deciding to head back through Winchester, where he hoped to find some useful leads for his future search, he left the main road to take a shortcut. As night fell near a village, he found an inn and decided to stay there. After ordering some food for supper, he went to his room, where he relaxed with a pipe. Suddenly, he heard a noisy gathering of locals enjoying themselves, which abruptly stopped. After a brief silence, he heard the voice of Pipes, who began to sing at the urging of the crowd.
Hatchway instantly recognised the well-known sound, in which, indeed, he could not possibly be mistaken, as nothing in nature bore the least resemblance to it; he threw his pipe into the chimney, and, snatching up one of his pistols, ran immediately to the apartment from whence the voice issued; he no sooner entered, than, distinguishing his old ship-mate in a crowd of country peasants, he in a moment sprang upon him, and, clapping his pistol to his breast, exclaimed, “ D—n you, Pipes, you are a dead man, if you don't immediately produce young master.”
Hatchway instantly recognized that familiar voice, which he knew he couldn’t mistake, since nothing in nature sounded like it. He tossed his pipe into the fireplace and grabbed one of his pistols, rushing straight to the room where the voice was coming from. As soon as he entered, he spotted his old shipmate among a group of local peasants. Without hesitation, he jumped on him and pressed his pistol against his chest, shouting, “Damn you, Pipes, you’re a dead man if you don’t bring out young master right now.”
This menacing application had a much greater effect upon the company than upon Tom, who, looking at the lieutenant with great tranquility, replied, “Why so I can, Master Hatchway.”—“What! safe and sound?” cried the other. “As a roach,” answered Pipes, so much to the satisfaction of his friend Jack, that he shook him by the hand, and desired him to proceed with his song. This being performed and the reckoning discharged, the two friends adjourned to the other room, where the lieutenant was informed of the manner in which the young gentleman had made his elopement from college, as well as of the other particulars of his present situation, as far as they had fallen within the sphere of his comprehension.
This intimidating situation had a bigger impact on the company than on Tom, who looked at the lieutenant calmly and replied, “Of course I can, Master Hatchway.” “What! Safe and sound?” exclaimed the other. “Like a cockroach,” answered Pipes, which made his friend Jack so happy that he shook his hand and asked him to continue with his song. After the performance and settling the bill, the two friends moved to another room, where the lieutenant learned how the young gentleman had escaped from college, as well as other details about his current situation, as far as he understood.
While they sat thus conferring together, Peregrine, having taken leave of his mistress for the night, came home, and was not a little surprised, when Hatchway, entering his chamber in his sea attitude, thrust out his hand by way of salutation. His old pupil received him as usual, with great cordiality, and expressed his astonishment at meeting him in that place; but when he understood the cause and intention of his arrival, he started with concern; and, his visage glowing with indignation, told him he was old enough to be judge of his own conduct, and, when he should see it convenient, would return of himself; but those who thought he was to be compelled to his duty, would find themselves egregiously mistaken.
While they were sitting together discussing things, Peregrine, having said goodnight to his girlfriend, came home and was quite surprised when Hatchway entered his room in his usual sailor way and reached out his hand to greet him. His former student welcomed him warmly, expressing his surprise at finding him there; but when he learned the reason and purpose of Hatchway’s visit, he became visibly distressed. His face flushed with anger, he told Hatchway that he was old enough to be in charge of his own actions and that he would return on his own when he felt it was right, but anyone who thought he could be forced into his responsibilities would find themselves seriously mistaken.
The lieutenant assured him, that for his own part he had no intention to offer him the least violence; but, at the same time, he represented to him the danger of incensing the commodore, who was already almost distracted on account of his absence: and, in short, conveyed his arguments, which were equally obvious and valid, in such expressions of friendship and respect, that Peregrine yielded to his remonstrances, and promised to accompany him next day to Winchester.
The lieutenant assured him that he had no intention of causing him any harm. However, he pointed out the risk of angering the commodore, who was already nearly frantic due to his absence. In short, he communicated his arguments, which were clear and reasonable, in such friendly and respectful terms that Peregrine agreed to his requests and promised to go with him to Winchester the next day.
Hatchway, overjoyed at the success of his negotiation, went immediately to the hostler and bespoke a post-chaise for Mr. Pickle and his man with whom he afterwards indulged himself in a double can of rumbo, and, when the night was pretty far advanced, left the lover to his repose, or rather to the thorns of his own meditation; for he slept not one moment, being incessantly tortured with the prospect of parting with his divine Emilia, who had now acquired the most absolute empire over his soul. One minute he proposed to depart early in the morning, without seeing this enchantress, in whose bewitching presence he durst not trust his own resolution; then the thoughts of leaving her in such an abrupt and disrespectful manner interposed in favour of his love and honour. This war of sentiments kept him all night upon the rack, and it was time to rise before he had determined to visit his charmer, and candidly impart the motives that induced him to leave her.
Hatchway, thrilled with the success of his negotiation, immediately went to the stable and ordered a post-chaise for Mr. Pickle and his servant. He then treated himself to a double can of rum, and when the night was well advanced, he left the lover to his rest, or rather to the thorns of his own thoughts; for he did not sleep at all, being constantly tormented by the idea of parting with his beautiful Emilia, who now had complete control over his heart. One moment, he considered leaving early in the morning without seeing this enchantress, as he didn’t trust himself to stay strong in her captivating presence; but then he was troubled by the thought of leaving her in such a sudden and disrespectful way, which called his love and honor into question. This inner conflict kept him awake all night, and it was time to rise before he finally decided to visit his beloved and honestly share the reasons that compelled him to leave her.
He accordingly repaired to her mother's house with a heavy heart, being attended to the gate by Hatchway, who did not choose to leave him alone; and being admitted, found Emilia just risen, and, in his opinion, more beautiful than ever.
He headed to her mother's house with a heavy heart, accompanied to the gate by Hatchway, who didn't want to leave him alone; and when he was let in, he found Emilia just getting up and, in his view, more beautiful than ever.
Alarmed at his early visit, and the gloom that overspread his countenance, she stood in silent expectation of hearing some melancholy tidings; and it was not till after a considerable pause, that he collected resolution enough to tell her he was come to take his leave. Though she strove to conceal her sorrow, nature was not to be suppressed: every feature of her countenance saddened in a moment; and it was not without the utmost difficulty that she kept her lovely eyes from overflowing. He saw the situation of her thoughts, and, in order to alleviate her concern, assured her he should find means to see her again in a very few weeks: meanwhile he communicated his reasons for departing, in which she readily acquiesced; and having mutually consoled each other, their transports of grief subsided: and before Mrs. Gauntlet came downstairs, they were in a condition to behave with great decency and resignation.
Alarmed by his early visit and the sadness on his face, she stood silently waiting for some bad news. After a long pause, he finally gathered the courage to tell her he was there to say goodbye. Although she tried to hide her sorrow, she couldn’t help it; every feature of her face fell instantly, and it was with great effort that she held back her tears. He recognized how she felt, and to ease her worry, he promised he would find a way to see her again in just a few weeks. He explained his reasons for leaving, which she agreed to, and after they comforted each other, their intense grief began to fade. By the time Mrs. Gauntlet came downstairs, they were able to act with great composure and acceptance.
This good lady expressed her concern when she learned his resolution, saying, she hoped his occasions and inclinations would permit him to favour them with his agreeable company another time.
This kind woman shared her worries when she found out his decision, saying she hoped his circumstances and interests would allow him to spend time with them again.
The lieutenant, who began to be uneasy at Peregrine's stay, knocked at the door, and, being introduced by his friend, had the honour of breakfasting with the ladies; on which occasion his heart received such a rude shock from the charms of Emilia, that he afterwards made a merit with his friend of having constrained himself so far, as to forbear commencing his professed rival.
The lieutenant, feeling increasingly uneasy about Peregrine's extended visit, knocked on the door and, upon his friend’s introduction, had the privilege of having breakfast with the ladies. During this meal, he experienced a jarring surprise from Emilia's beauty, which later led him to take pride in his self-control for not openly competing with his friend.
At length they bade adieu to their kind entertainers; and in less than an hour setting out from the inn, arrived about two o'clock in Winchester, where Mr. Jolter was overwhelmed with joy at their appearance.
At last, they said goodbye to their gracious hosts; and in under an hour after leaving the inn, they arrived in Winchester around two o'clock, where Mr. Jolter was filled with happiness at their arrival.
The nature of this adventure being unknown to all except those who could be depended upon, everybody who inquired about the cause of Peregrine's absence, was told that he had been with a relation in the country, and the master condescended to overlook his indiscretion; so that Hatchway, seeing everything settled to the satisfaction of his friend, returned to the garrison, and gave the commodore an account of his expedition.
The details of this adventure were known only to those who could be trusted, so everyone who asked why Peregrine was missing was told he had been visiting a relative in the countryside, and the master chose to overlook his mistake. With everything wrapped up to his friend's satisfaction, Hatchway went back to the garrison and reported to the commodore about his trip.
The old gentleman was very much startled when he heard there was a lady in the case, and very emphatically observed, that a man had better be sucked into the gulf of Florida than once get into the indraught of a woman; because, in one case, he may with good pilotage bring out his vessel safe between the Bahamas and the Indian shore; but in the other there is no outlet at all, and it is in vain to strive against the current; so that of course he must be embayed, and run chuck upon a lee-shore. He resolved, therefore, to lay the state of the case before Gamaliel Pickle, and concert such measures with him as should be thought likeliest to detach his son from the pursuit of an idle amour, which could not fail of interfering in a dangerous manner with the plan of his education.
The old man was really shocked when he heard there was a woman involved, and he firmly stated that a man would be better off getting sucked into the Gulf of Florida than getting caught up in a woman's pull; because, in one case, he might successfully navigate his ship safely between the Bahamas and the Indian shore, but in the other, there's no way out, and fighting against the current is pointless. He would inevitably end up stranded and in trouble. So, he decided to discuss the situation with Gamaliel Pickle and come up with a plan that would likely steer his son away from pursuing a pointless romance that could seriously disrupt his education.
In the mean time, Perry's ideas were totally engrossed by his amiable mistress, who, whether he slept or waked, was still present in his imagination, which produced the following stanzas in her praise:—
In the meantime, Perry's thoughts were completely consumed by his charming mistress, who, whether he was asleep or awake, was always on his mind, leading him to create the following verses in her honor:—
Adieu! ye streams that smoothly flow;
Ye vernal airs that softly blow;
Ye plains, by blooming spring arrayed;
Ye birds that warble through the shade.
Unhurt from you my soul could fly,
Nor drop one tear, nor heave one sigh;
But forced from Celia's charms to part,
All joy deserts my drooping heart.
O' fairer than the rosy morn,
When flowers the dewy fields adorn;
Unsallied as the genial ray,
That warms the balmy breeze of May;
Thy charms divinely bright appear,
And add new splendour to the year;
Improve the day with fresh delight,
And gild with joy the dreary night.
Goodbye! you streams that flow so smoothly;
You spring breezes that blow softly;
You plains, dressed in blooming spring;
You birds that sing through the shade.
Free from you, my soul could take flight,
Not shedding a tear, nor letting out a sigh;
But separated from Celia's charms,
All happiness leaves my aching heart.
O, fairer than the rosy dawn,
When flowers adorn the dewy fields;
Pure as the warm rays of sunshine,
That heat the pleasant May breeze;
Your charms shine brightly divine,
And bring new beauty to the year;
Enrich the day with fresh joy,
And light up the dreary night with happiness. This juvenile production was enclosed in a very tender billet to Emilia, and committed to the charge of Pipes, who was ordered to set out for Mrs. Gauntlet's habitation with a present of venison, and a compliment to the ladies; and directed to take some opportunity of delivering the letter to miss, without the knowledge of her mamma.
This young piece of writing was sent with a very sweet note to Emilia, and entrusted to Pipes, who was instructed to head to Mrs. Gauntlet's place with a gift of venison and a compliment for the ladies; he was also told to find a chance to give the letter to the young lady without her mother's knowledge.
CHAPTER XIX.
His Messenger meets with a Misfortune, to which he applies a very extraordinary Expedient that is attended with strange Consequences.
His messenger encounters a misfortune, which he addresses with a very unusual solution that leads to bizarre consequences.
As a stage-coach passed within two miles of the village where she lived, Tom bargained with the driver for a seat on the box, and accordingly departed on this message, though he was but indifferently qualified for commissions of such a nature. Having received particular injunctions about the letter, he resolved to make that the chief object of his care, and very sagaciously conveyed it between the stocking and the sole of his foot, where he thought it would be perfectly secure from all injury or accident. Here it remained until he arrived at the inn where he had formerly lodged, when, after having refreshed himself with a draught of beer, he pulled off his stocking, and found the poor billet sullied with dust, and torn in a thousand tatters by the motion of his foot in walking the last two miles of his journey. Thunderstruck at this phenomenon, he uttered it loud whew! which was succeeded by an exclamation of “D— my old shoes! a bite by G—!” then he rested his elbows on the table, and his forehead upon his two fists, and in that attitude deliberated with himself upon the means of remedying this misfortune.
As a stagecoach passed within two miles of the village where she lived, Tom struck a deal with the driver for a seat on the front, and set off on this message, even though he wasn't really cut out for tasks like this. After receiving specific instructions about the letter, he decided to make that his main concern, and cleverly tucked it between his sock and the sole of his foot, thinking it would be safe from any damage. It stayed there until he reached the inn where he had stayed before. After refreshing himself with a pint of beer, he took off his sock and found the poor letter dirty and torn into a thousand pieces from the movement of his foot during the last two miles. Shocked by this, he exclaimed, “Wow!” followed by, “D— my old shoes! A bite by G—!” Then, he rested his elbows on the table and his forehead on his fists, contemplating how to fix this disaster.
As he was not distracted by a vast number of ideas he soon concluded that his best expedient would be to employ the clerk of the parish, who he knew was a great scholar, to write another epistle according to the directions he should give him; and never dreaming that the mangled original would in the least facilitate this scheme, he very wisely committed it to the flames, that it might never rise up in judgment against him.
Since he wasn't overwhelmed by a lot of ideas, he quickly decided that his best option would be to hire the parish clerk, who he knew was very knowledgeable, to write another letter based on the instructions he would provide. Without considering that the damaged original would help his plan in any way, he wisely burned it so it would never come back to haunt him.
Having taken this wise step, he went in quest of the scribe, to whom he communicated his business, and promised a full pot by way of gratification. The clerk, who was also schoolmaster, proud of an opportunity to distinguish his talents, readily undertook the task; and repairing with his employer to the inn, in less than a quarter of an hour produced a morsel of eloquence so much to the satisfaction of Pipes, that he squeezed his hand by way of acknowledgment, and doubled his allowance of beer. This being discussed, our courier betook himself to the house of Mrs. Gauntlet with the haunch of venison and this succedaneous letter, and delivered his message to the mother, who received it with great respect, and many kind inquiries about the health and welfare of his master, attempting to tip the messenger a crown, which he absolutely refused to accept, in consequence of Mr. Pickle's repeated caution. While the old gentlewoman turned to a servant in order to give directions about the disposal of the present, Pipes looked upon this as a favourable occasion to transact his business with Emilia, and therefore shutting one eye, with a jerk of his thumb towards his left shoulder, and a most significant twist of his countenance he beckoned the young lady into another room as if he had been fraught with something of consequence, which he wanted to impart. She understood the hint, howsoever strangely communicated, and, by stepping to one side of the room gave him an opportunity of slipping the epistle into her hand, which he gently squeezed at the same time in token of regard: then throwing a side-glance at the mother, whose back was turned, clapped his finger on the side of his nose, thereby recommending secrecy and discretion.
Having made this smart decision, he went looking for the scribe, to whom he explained his situation and promised a full pot as a reward. The clerk, who was also a schoolmaster, eager to showcase his skills, quickly agreed to help; and after going with his employer to the inn, in less than fifteen minutes, he produced a piece of writing so impressive that Pipes squeezed his hand in gratitude and increased his beer allowance. After discussing this, our courier headed to Mrs. Gauntlet’s house with a haunch of venison and the accompanying letter, delivering his message to her, which she received with great respect and many kind questions about her master’s health and well-being. She attempted to tip the messenger a crown, but he politely refused to accept it due to Mr. Pickle's earlier warnings. While the elderly lady turned to instruct a servant on how to handle the gift, Pipes saw this as a good chance to handle his business with Emilia. So, shutting one eye, gesturing with his thumb towards his left shoulder, and giving a significant twist of his face, he motioned for the young lady to step into another room, as if he had something important to share. She understood the strange signal and, by stepping to one side of the room, allowed him to slip the letter into her hand, which he gently squeezed as a sign of affection. Then, glancing at her mother, who was turned away, he tapped his finger on the side of his nose, signaling for secrecy and discretion.
Emilia, conveying the letter into her bosom, could not help smiling at Tom's politeness and dexterity; but lest her mamma should detect him in the execution of his pantomime, she broke off this intercourse of signs, by asking aloud when he proposed to set out on his return to Winchester? When he answered, “To-morrow morning.” Miss Gauntlet recommended him to the hospitality of her own footman, desiring him to make much of Mr. Pipes below, where he was kept to supper, and very cordially entertained. Our young heroine, impatient to read her lover's billet, which made her heart throb with rapturous expectation, retired to her chamber as soon as possible, with a view of perusing the contents, which were these:—
Emilia, tucking the letter into her dress, couldn't help but smile at Tom's politeness and skill; however, to avoid her mom catching him in his silent act, she interrupted their nonverbal communication by asking out loud when he planned to leave for Winchester. When he replied, “Tomorrow morning,” Miss Gauntlet suggested he take advantage of her footman’s hospitality, telling him to take good care of Mr. Pipes downstairs, where he was treated to supper and warmly welcomed. Eager to read her lover’s note, which made her heart race with excited anticipation, our young heroine quickly returned to her room to read the contents, which were as follows:—
“Divine Empress Of My Soul,—If the refulgent flames of your
beauty had not evaporated the particles of my transported
brain, and scorched my intellects into a cinder of stolidity,
perhaps the resplendency of my passion might shine illustrious
through the sable curtain of my ink, and in sublimity transcend
the galaxy itself, though wafted on the pinions of a gray goose
quill! But, ah! celestial enchantress! the necromancy of thy
tyrannical charms hath fettered my faculties with adamantine
chains, which, unless thy compassion shall melt I must eternally
remain in the Tartarean gulf of dismal despair. Vouchsafe,
therefore, O thou brightest luminary of this terrestrial sphere!
to warm, as well as shine; and let the genial rays of thy
benevolence melt the icy emanations of thy disdain, which hath
frozen up the spirits of angelic pre-eminence.—Thy most
egregious admirer and superlative slave,
“Peregrine Pickle.”
“Divine Empress of My Soul,—If the brilliant flames of your beauty hadn't overwhelmed my mind and turned my thoughts to ash, maybe the intensity of my passion could shine through the dark curtain of my ink, and rise above even the galaxy itself, carried on the wings of a gray goose quill! But, ah! celestial enchantress! the magic of your powerful charms has bound my abilities with unbreakable chains, and unless your compassion melts them, I must remain forever in the dark abyss of despair. So, please, O you brightest light of this earthly realm! warm me as well as illuminate me; let the warm rays of your kindness melt the cold chill of your disdain, which has frozen the spirits of angelic superiority.—Your most devoted admirer and ultimate slave,
“Peregrine Pickle.”Never was astonishment more perplexing than that of Emilia, when she read this curious composition, which she repeated verbatim three times before she would credit the evidence of her own senses. She began to fear in good earnest that love had produced a disorder in her lover's understanding; but after a thousand conjectures by which she attempted to account for this extraordinary fustian of style, she concluded that it was the effect of mere levity, calculated to ridicule the passion he had formerly professed. Irritated by this supposition, she resolved to balk his triumph with affected indifference, and in the mean time endeavoured to expel him from that place which he possessed within her heart. And indeed such a victory over her inclinations might have been obtained without great difficulty; for she enjoyed an easiness of temper that could accommodate itself to the emergencies of her fate; and her vivacity, by amusing her imagination, preserved herself from the keener sensations of sorrow. Thus determined and disposed, she did not send any sort of answer, or the least token of remembrance by Pipes, who was suffered to depart with a general compliment from the mother, and arrived at Winchester the next day.
Never had Emilia been more confused than when she read this strange letter, which she repeated word for word three times before she would trust her own senses. She started to genuinely worry that love had caused a change in her lover’s mind; but after countless attempts to make sense of this ridiculous writing, she decided it was just a result of his lightheartedness, meant to mock the feelings he had once expressed. Annoyed by this idea, she resolved to undermine his triumph by acting indifferent, while also trying to push him out of her heart. And honestly, she could have won that battle over her feelings without much struggle; she had a naturally easygoing temperament that could adapt to whatever life threw her way, and her lively spirit kept her entertained, protecting her from the sharper pains of sorrow. With this resolve and mindset, she didn’t send any response or even a small token of remembrance with Pipes, who was allowed to leave with a general greeting from her mother, and he arrived in Winchester the next day.
Peregrine's eyes sparkled when he saw his messenger come in, and he stretched out his hand in full confidence of receiving some particular mark of his Emilia's affection; but how was he confounded, when he found his hope so cruelly disappointed! In an instant his countenance fell. He stood for some time silent and abashed, then thrice repeated the interrogation of “What! not one word from Emilia?” and dubious of his courier's discretion, inquired minutely into all the particulars of his reception. He asked if he had seen the young lady, if she was in good health, if he had found an opportunity of delivering his letter, and how she looked, when he put it into her hand? Pipes answered, that he had never seen her in better health or better spirits; that he had managed matters so as not only to present the billet unperceived, but also to ask her commands in private before he took his leave, when she told him that the letter required no reply. This last circumstance he considered as a manifest mark of disrespect, and gnawed his lips with resentment. Upon further reflection, however, he supposed that she could not conveniently write by the messenger, and would undoubtedly favour him by the post. This consideration consoled him for the present, and he waited impatiently for the fruits of his hope; but after he had seen eight days elapse without reaping the satisfaction with which he had flattered himself, his temper forsook him, he raved against the whole sex, and was seized with a fit of sullen chagrin; but his pride in a little time came to his assistance, and rescued him from the horrors of the melancholy fiend. He resolved to retort her own neglect upon her ungrateful mistress; his countenance gradually resumed its former serenity; and though by this time he was pretty well cured of his foppery, he appeared again at public diversions with an air of gaiety and unconcern, that Emilia might have a chance of hearing how much, in all likelihood, he disregarded her disdain.
Peregrine's eyes lit up when he saw his messenger arrive, and he reached out his hand, fully expecting some sign of his Emilia's affection. But he was taken aback when his hopes were so harshly dashed! In an instant, his expression fell. He stood there for a while, silent and embarrassed, then asked three times, "What! Not even a word from Emilia?" Doubting his messenger's judgment, he grilled him about every detail of his visit. He wanted to know if he had seen the young lady, if she was well, if he had managed to give her the letter, and what she looked like when he handed it to her. Pipes replied that he had never seen her in better health or higher spirits; he had cleverly managed to present the note without being noticed and had even asked her for any messages in private before leaving, to which she said the letter needed no reply. He viewed this last detail as a clear sign of disrespect and ground his teeth in frustration. After further thought, however, he figured she couldn't easily write back through the messenger and would surely send him something by post. This idea comforted him for the moment, and he waited eagerly for the outcome of his hopes. But after eight days passed without receiving the satisfaction he had anticipated, he lost his temper, venting his frustrations at all women, and fell into a bout of gloomy irritation. However, his pride soon kicked in and pulled him out of the depths of despair. He decided to turn her neglect back on her ungrateful mistress; his expression gradually returned to its previous calmness. By now, he was mostly over his vanity, yet he attended public events again with a cheerful and indifferent demeanor, so Emilia might hear just how much he likely dismissed her disdain.
There are never wanting certain officious persons, who take pleasure in promoting intelligence of this sort. His behaviour soon reached the ears of Miss Gauntlet, and confirmed her in the opinion she had conceived from his letter; so that she fortified herself in her former sentiments, and bore his indifference with great philosophy, Thus a correspondence, which had commenced with all the tenderness and sincerity of love, and every promise of duration, was interrupted in its infancy by a misunderstanding occasioned by the simplicity of Pipes, who never once reflected upon the consequences of his deceit.
There are always some meddlesome people who enjoy spreading this kind of gossip. His actions quickly got back to Miss Gauntlet, which reinforced her opinion based on his letter; as a result, she strengthened her earlier feelings and dealt with his indifference with remarkable composure. Thus, a relationship that started with all the tenderness and sincerity of love, and every promise of lasting commitment, was cut short in its early stages due to a misunderstanding caused by Pipes, who never thought about the consequences of his lies.
Though their mutual passion was by these means suppressed for the present, it was not altogether extinguished, but glowed in secret, though even to themselves unknown, until an occasion, which afterwards offered, blew up the latent flame, and love resumed his empire in their breasts. While they moved, as it were, without the sphere of each other's attraction, the commodore, hearing that Perry was in danger of involving himself in some pernicious engagement, resolved, by advice of Mr. Jolter and his friend the parish priest, to recall him from the place where he had contracted such imprudent connections, and send him to the university, where his education might be completed, and his fancy weaned from all puerile amusements.
Though their shared passion was currently suppressed, it never fully died out; it smoldered secretly, even unknown to themselves, until an opportunity later arose that reignited the hidden flame, and love regained its hold in their hearts. While they seemed to move outside each other's pull, the commodore, learning that Perry might get himself caught up in some risky situation, decided, with the advice of Mr. Jolter and the local priest, to pull him away from where he had formed such careless connections and send him to university, where he could finish his education and be distracted from childish pastimes.
This plan had been proposed to his own father, who, as hath been already observed, stood always neuter in everything that concerned his eldest son; and as for Mrs. Pickle, she had never heard his name mentioned since his departure with any degree of temper or tranquility, except when her husband informed her that he was in a fair way of being ruined by this indiscreet amour. It was then she began to applaud her own foresight, which had discerned the mark of reprobation in that vicious boy, and launched out in comparison between him and Gammy, who, she observed, was a child of uncommon parts and solidity, and, with the blessing of God, would be a comfort to his parents, and an ornament to the family.
This plan had been suggested to his father, who, as has already been mentioned, always stayed neutral in matters concerning his eldest son. As for Mrs. Pickle, she hadn't heard his name mentioned since his departure without some level of anger or unease, except when her husband informed her that he was on his way to being ruined by this reckless love affair. It was then that she began to appreciate her own foresight, which had recognized the flaws in that troublesome boy, and she started comparing him to Gammy, whom she noted was an exceptionally talented and solid child, and, with God's blessing, would be a comfort to his parents and an asset to the family.
Should I affirm that this favourite whom she commended so much, was in every respect the reverse of what she described; that he was a boy of mean capacity, and, though remarkably distorted in his body, much more crooked in his disposition; and that she had persuaded her husband to espouse her opinion, though it was contrary to common sense, as well as to his own perception;—I am afraid the reader will think I represent a monster that never existed in nature, and be apt to condemn the economy of my invention: nevertheless, there is nothing more true than every circumstance of what I have advanced; and I wish the picture, singular as it is, may not be thought to resemble more than one original.
Should I say that the favorite she praised so much was, in every way, the complete opposite of what she described? That he was a boy of limited ability and, although physically deformed, his character was even worse? And that she had convinced her husband to agree with her opinion, even though it went against common sense and his own judgment?—I worry that the reader will believe I'm portraying a monster that never really existed and will be quick to criticize the way I've crafted my story. Yet, nothing is truer than all the details I've shared; I hope this unusual depiction isn’t thought to reflect more than one real person.
CHAPTER XX.
Peregrine is summoned to attend his Uncle—Is more and more hated by his own Mother—Appeals to his Father, whose Condescension is defeated by the Dominion of his Wife.
Peregrine is asked to visit his Uncle—He is increasingly disliked by his own Mother—He turns to his Father, whose willingness to help is overshadowed by his Wife's control.
But, waiving these reflections, let us return to Peregrine, who received a summons to attend his uncle, and in a few days arrived with Mr. Jolter and Pipes at the garrison, which he filled with joy and satisfaction. The alteration, which, during his absence, had happened in his person, was very favourable to his appearance, which, from that of a comely boy, was converted into that of a most engaging youth. He was already taller than a middle-sized man, his shape ascertained, his sinews well knit, his mien greatly improved, and his whole figure as elegant and graceful as if it had been cast in the same mould with the Apollo of Belvedere.
But putting those thoughts aside, let's go back to Peregrine, who got a call to see his uncle and soon arrived at the garrison with Mr. Jolter and Pipes, bringing joy and satisfaction. The changes that had taken place in his appearance during his absence were quite favorable; he had transformed from a handsome boy into a remarkably charming young man. He was already taller than an average man, his build well-defined, his muscles toned, his demeanor greatly improved, and his entire figure was as elegant and graceful as if he had been sculpted like the Apollo of Belvedere.
Such an outside could not fail of prepossessing people in his favour. The commodore, notwithstanding the advantageous reports he had heard, found his expectation exceeded in the person of Peregrine, and signified his approbation in the most sanguine terms. Mrs. Trunnion was struck with his genteel address, and received him with uncommon marks of complacency and affection: he was caressed by all the people in the neighbourhood, who, while they admired his accomplishments, could not help pitying his infatuated mother, for being deprived of that unutterable delight which any other parent would have enjoyed in the contemplation of such an amiable son.
Such a person couldn't help but win people over. The commodore, despite the positive things he had heard, found his expectations exceeded by Peregrine and expressed his approval in the most enthusiastic terms. Mrs. Trunnion was impressed by his polished demeanor and welcomed him with extraordinary warmth and affection: he was adored by everyone in the neighborhood, who, while admiring his talents, couldn’t help but feel sorry for his misguided mother, missing out on the immense joy that any other parent would have felt at having such a wonderful son.
Divers efforts were made by some well-disposed people to conquer, if possible, this monstrous prejudice; but their endeavours, instead of curing, served only to inflame the distemper, and she never could be prevailed upon to indulge him with the least mark of maternal regard. On the contrary, her original disgust degenerated into such inveteracy of hatred, that she left no stone unturned to alienate the commodore's affection for this her innocent child, and even practised the most malicious defamation to accomplish her purpose. Every day, did she abuse her husband's ear with some forged instance of Peregrine's ingratitude to his uncle, well knowing that it would reach the commodore's knowledge at night.
Various attempts were made by some kind-hearted people to overcome this terrible prejudice, but instead of fixing the issue, their efforts only made things worse. She never could be convinced to show even a hint of maternal affection towards him. In fact, her initial disgust turned into a deep-seated hatred, and she went to great lengths to destroy the commodore's love for her innocent child. She even engaged in the most malicious slander to achieve her goals. Every day, she would fill her husband's ears with some made-up story about Peregrine's ungratefulness to his uncle, knowing full well that he would hear about it from the commodore at night.
Accordingly Mr. Pickle used to tell him at the club, that his hopeful favourite had ridiculed him in such a company, and aspersed his spouse on another occasion; and thus retail the little scandalous issue of his own wife's invention. Luckily for Peregrine, the commodore paid no great regard to the authority of his informer, because he knew from what channel the intelligence flowed; besides, the youth had a staunch friend in Mr. Hatchway, who never failed to vindicate him when he was thus unjustly accused, and always found argument enough to confute the assertions of his enemies. But, though Trunnion had been dubious of the young gentleman's principles, and deaf to the remonstrances of the lieutenant, Perry was provided with a bulwark strong enough to defend him from all such assaults. This was no other than his aunt, whose regard for him was perceived to increase in the same proportion as his own mother's diminished; and, indeed, the augmentation of the one was, in all probability, owing to the decrease of the other; for the two ladies, with great civility, performed all the duties of good neighbourhood, and hated each other most piously in their hearts.
Accordingly, Mr. Pickle would often tell him at the club that his hopeful favorite had mocked him in front of others and slandered his wife on another occasion; and thus, he would share the small scandalous tale that his own wife had created. Luckily for Peregrine, the commodore didn't pay much attention to his informant, because he knew where the information was coming from; besides, the young man had a loyal friend in Mr. Hatchway, who always defended him when he was unfairly accused and consistently found enough arguments to counter the claims of his foes. However, even though Trunnion had doubts about the young gentleman's character and ignored the lieutenant’s warnings, Perry had a strong enough shield to protect him from all these attacks. This shield was none other than his aunt, whose affection for him seemed to grow just as his own mother's decreased; indeed, the increase in one was likely due to the decrease in the other, for the two women, while being very polite, performed all the duties of good neighbors and secretly harbored deep hatred for each other.
Mrs. Pickle, having been disobliged at the splendour of her sister's new equipage, had, ever since that time, in the course of her visiting, endeavoured to make people merry with satirical jokes on the poor lady's infirmities; and Mrs. Trunnion seized the very first opportunity of making reprisals, by inveighing against her unnatural behaviour to her own child; so that Peregrine, as on the one hand he was abhorred, so on the other was he caressed, in consequence of this contention; and I firmly believe that the most effectual method of destroying his interest at the garrison, would have been the show of countenancing him at his father's house; but, whether this conjecture be reasonable or chimerical, certain it is the experiment was never tried, and therefore Mr. Peregrine ran no risk of being disgraced. The commodore, who assumed, and justly too, the whole merit of his education, was now as proud of the youth's improvements as if he had actually been his own offspring; and sometimes his affection rose to such a pitch of enthusiasm, that he verily believed him to be the issue of his own loins. Notwithstanding this favourable predicament in which our hero stood with his aunt and her husband, he could not help feeling the injury he suffered from the caprice of his mother; and though the gaiety of his disposition hindered him from afflicting himself with reflections of any gloomy cast, he did not fail to foresee, that if any sudden accident should deprive him of the commodore, he would in all likelihood find himself in a very disagreeable situation. Prompted by this consideration, he one evening accompanied his uncle to the club, and was introduced to his father, before that worthy gentleman had the least inkling of his arrival.
Mrs. Pickle, frustrated by the lavishness of her sister's new carriage, had, ever since that time, tried to make people laugh with sarcastic jokes about the poor lady's weaknesses during her visits; and Mrs. Trunnion jumped at the first chance to retaliate by criticizing her unnatural behavior towards her own child. As a result, Peregrine was both hated and spoiled due to this conflict, and I truly believe that the best way to ruin his standing at the garrison would have been to show him support at his father's home; however, whether this assumption is sensible or fanciful, it's clear that this experiment was never attempted, and thus Mr. Peregrine faced no risk of disgrace. The commodore, who rightly took full credit for his education, was now as proud of the young man's progress as if he had been his own son; sometimes his affection reached such heights that he genuinely believed Peregrine was his biological child. Despite this favorable situation with his aunt and her husband, our hero couldn't ignore the pain caused by his mother's unpredictable behavior; and although his cheerful nature kept him from dwelling on dark thoughts, he was aware that if something were to suddenly happen to the commodore, he would likely find himself in a very difficult position. Motivated by this thought, one evening he joined his uncle at the club and was introduced to his father, before that esteemed gentleman had the slightest idea of his presence.
Mr. Gamaliel was never so disconcerted as at this reencounter. His own disposition would not suffer him to do anything that might create the least disturbance, or interrupt his enjoyment; so strongly was he impressed with the terror of his wife, that he durst not yield to the tranquility of his temper: and, as I have already observed, his inclination was perfectly neutral. Thus distracted between different motives, when Perry was presented to him, he sat silent and absorbed, as if he did not or would not perceive the application; and when he was urged to declare himself by the youth, who pathetically begged to know how he had incurred his displeasure, he answered, in a peevish strain, “Why, good now, child, what would you have me to do? your mother can't abide you.”—“If my mother is so unkind, I will not call it unnatural,” said Peregrine, the tears of indignation starting from his eyes, “as to banish me from her presence and affection, without the least cause assigned; I hope you will not be so unjust as to espouse her barbarous prejudice.”
Mr. Gamaliel was never more unsettled than at this reunion. His nature wouldn't allow him to do anything that might cause even the slightest disturbance or interrupt his enjoyment; he was so intimidated by his wife that he couldn’t let his calm demeanor take over. As I already pointed out, he was completely neutral by nature. Torn between conflicting feelings, when Perry was introduced to him, he sat quietly, lost in thought, as if he didn’t notice or didn’t want to acknowledge the situation. When the young man pressed him to explain himself, pathetically asking why he had upset him, Mr. Gamaliel replied irritably, “Well, really now, kid, what do you expect me to do? Your mother can't stand you.” “If my mother is so unkind, I won't call it unnatural,” Peregrine said, tears of anger welling in his eyes, “to banish me from her presence and affection for no reason at all; I hope you won’t be so unjust as to side with her cruel bias.”
Before Mr. Pickle had time to reply to his expostulation, for which he was not at all prepared, the commodore interposed, and enforced his favourite's remonstrance, by telling Mr. Gamaliel that he was ashamed to see any man drive in such a miserable manner under his wife's petticoat. “As for my own part,” said he, raising his voice, and assuming a look of importance and command, “before I would suffer myself to be steered all weathers by any woman in Christendom, d'ye see, I'd raise such a hurricane about her ears, that—” Here he was interrupted by Mr. Hatchway, who thrusting his head towards the door, in the attitude of one that listens, cried, “Ahey, there's your spouse come to pay us a visit.” Trunnion's features that instant adopted a new disposition; fear and confusion took possession of his countenance; his voice, from a tone of vociferation, sank into a whisper of, “Sure, you must be mistaken, Jack;” and, in great perplexity, he wiped off his sweat which had started on his forehead at this false alarm. The lieutenant, having thus punished him for the rodomontade he had uttered, told him, with an arch sneer, that he was deceived with the sound of the outward door creaking upon its hinges, which he mistook for Mrs. Trunnion's voice, and desired him to proceed with his admonitions to Mr. Pickle. It is not to be denied that this arrogance was a little unseasonable to the commodore, who was in all respects as effectually subdued to the dominion of his wife as the person whose submission he then ventured to condemn; with this difference of disposition—, Trunnion's subjection was like that of a bear, chequered with fits of surliness and rage; whereas Pickle bore the yoke like an ox, without repining. No wonder, then, that this indolence, this sluggishness, this stagnation of temper rendered Gamaliel incapable of withstanding the arguments and importunity of his friends, to which he at length surrendered. He acquiesced in the justice of their observations: and, taking his son by the hand, promised to favour him for the future with his love and fatherly protection.
Before Mr. Pickle had a chance to respond to his outburst, which he wasn't expecting at all, the commodore jumped in and supported his favorite’s complaint, telling Mr. Gamaliel that he was embarrassed to see any man acting so pitifully under his wife's control. “As for me,” he said, raising his voice and putting on an important and commanding expression, “I’d rather create such a storm around her that—” He was cut off by Mr. Hatchway, who leaned his head toward the door, as if listening, and exclaimed, “Hey, your wife is here to visit us.” Trunnion’s face instantly transformed; fear and confusion took over his expression; his voice went from loud to a whisper, saying, “You must be mistaken, Jack;” and, in a state of panic, he wiped the sweat that had appeared on his forehead from this false alarm. The lieutenant, having taught him a lesson for his earlier bravado, told him with a sly grin that he had been misled by the sound of the front door creaking, which he mistook for Mrs. Trunnion's voice, and urged him to continue his warnings to Mr. Pickle. It’s undeniable that this arrogance was a bit out of place for the commodore, who was just as effectively under his wife’s rule as the person whose submission he dared to criticize; the only difference being that Trunnion’s submission was like that of a bear, marked by bursts of stubbornness and anger; whereas Pickle accepted his fate like an ox, without complaining. It’s no surprise, then, that this laziness, this lethargy, this stagnation in temperament made Gamaliel unable to resist the arguments and insistence of his friends, and he eventually gave in. He agreed with their points: and taking his son by the hand, he promised to show him more love and protection as a father in the future.
But this laudable resolution did not last. Mrs. Pickle, still dubious of his constancy, and jealous of his communication with the commodore, never failed to interrogate him every night about the conversation that happened at the club, and to regulate her exhortations according to the intelligence she received. He was no sooner, therefore, conveyed to bed (that academy in which all notable wives communicate their lectures), when her catechism began; and she in a moment perceived something reluctant and equivocal in her husband's answers. Aroused at this discovery, she employed her influence and skill with such success, that he disclosed every circumstance of what had happened; and after having sustained a most severe rebuke for his simplicity and indiscretion, humbled himself so far as to promise that he would next day annul the condescensions he had made, and for ever renounce the ungracious object of her disgust. This undertaking was punctually performed in a letter to the commodore, which she herself dictated in these words:—
But this admirable resolution didn't last. Mrs. Pickle, still unsure of his loyalty and jealous of his chats with the commodore, never missed a chance to interrogate him every night about the conversation at the club, adjusting her comments based on the information she got. As soon as he was tucked into bed (that space where all notable wives share their lectures), her questioning began; and she quickly noticed something hesitant and unclear in her husband's responses. Alarmed by this realization, she used her influence and skills so effectively that he revealed every detail of what had happened; after receiving a severe scolding for his naivety and indiscretion, he humbled himself enough to promise that he would cancel the concessions he had made the next day and permanently cut off contact with the source of her displeasure. He carried out this promise promptly in a letter to the commodore, which she dictated in these words:—
“Sir—Whereas my good-nature being last night imposed upon, I
was persuaded to countenance and promise I know not what to
that vicious youth, whose parent I have the misfortune to be;
I desire you will take notice that I will revoke all such
countenance and promises, and shall never look upon that man
as my friend who will, in such a cause, solicit,—
Sir, yours, etc.
“Gam. Pickle.”
“Sir—Last night, my good nature was taken advantage of, and I was convinced to support and promise who knows what to that troublesome young man, whose parent I unfortunately am; I want you to know that I will take back all such support and promises, and I will never regard someone as my friend who, in such matters, would ask for it,— Sir, yours, etc.
“Gam. Pickle.”CHAPTER XXI.
Trunnion is enraged at the conduct of Pickle—Peregrine resents the Injustice of his Mother, to whom he explains his Sentiments in a Letter-Is entered at the University of Oxford, where he signalizes himself as a Youth of an enterprising Genius.
Trunnion is furious about Pickle's behavior—Peregrine is upset about the unfairness of his mother, and he shares his feelings in a letter. He enrolls at the University of Oxford, where he stands out as a young man with an ambitious mind.
Unspeakable were the transports of rage to which Trunnion was incensed by this absurd renunciation: he tore the letter with his gums (teeth he had none), spit with furious grimaces, in token of the contempt he entertain the for the author, whom he not only damned as a lousy, scabby, nasty, scurvy, skulking lubberly noodle, but resolved to challenge to single combat with fire and sword; but, he was dissuaded from this violent measure, and appeased by the intervention and advice of the lieutenant and Mr. Jolter, who represented the message as the effect of the poor man's infirmity, for which he was rather an object of pity than of resentment, and turned the stream of his indignation against the wife, whom he reviled accordingly. Nor did Peregrine himself bear with patience this injurious declaration, the nature of which he no sooner understood from Hatchway than, equally shocked and exasperated, he retired to his apartment, and, in the first emotions of his ire, produced the following epistle, which was immediately conveyed to his mother,—
Trunnion was filled with indescribable rage at this ridiculous rejection: he shredded the letter with his gums (since he had no teeth), spat furiously, and grimaced in disgust at the author, whom he cursed as a filthy, scabby, nasty, lowlife fool. He even decided to challenge him to a duel with fire and sword; however, the lieutenant and Mr. Jolter talked him out of this extreme reaction, suggesting that the man’s message was the result of his weakness, making him more deserving of pity than anger. Trunnion then redirected his fury at the man’s wife, whom he berated instead. Peregrine was also deeply upset by this insulting message. As soon as he learned about it from Hatchway, he was both shocked and furious, so he retreated to his room and, in the heat of the moment, wrote the following letter, which was promptly sent to his mother,—
“Madam,—Had nature formed me a bugbear to the sight, and
inspired me with a soul as vicious as my body was detestable,
perhaps I might have enjoyed particular marks of your affection
and applause; seeing you have persecuted me with such unnatural
aversion, for no other visible reason than that of my differing
so widely in shape as well as disposition from that deformed
urchin who is the object of your tenderness and care. If these be
the terms on which alone I can obtain your favour, I pray God
you may never cease to hate,—Madam, your much-injured son,
“Peregrine Pickle.”
“Madam,—If nature had made me a terrifying creature to look at, and given me a soul as evil as my appearance was awful, I might have won your affection and praise; considering you have tormented me with such unnatural hatred, for no other clear reason than that I look and act so differently from that ugly little boy who is the focus of your love and care. If these are the only conditions under which I can earn your favor, I hope God never allows you to stop hating,—Madam, your very wronged son, “Peregrine Pickle.”
This letter, which nothing, but his passion and inexperience could excuse, had such an effect upon his mother as may be easily conceived. She was enraged to a degree of frenzy against the writer; though, at the same time, she considered the whole as the production of Mrs. Trunnion's particular pique, and represented it to her husband as an insult that he was bound in honour to resent, by breaking off all correspondence with the commodore and his family. This was a bitter pill to Gamaliel, who, through a long course of years, was so habituated to Trunnion's company, that he could as easily have parted with a limb as have relinquished the club all at once. He therefore ventured to represent his own incapacity to follow her advice, and begged that he might, at least, be allowed to drop the connection gradually, protesting that he would do his endeavour to give her all manner of satisfaction.
This letter, which only his passion and inexperience could justify, had a reaction from his mother that is easy to imagine. She was furious to the point of madness at the person who wrote it; however, she also saw it as the result of Mrs. Trunnion's personal spite and told her husband that he had to respond honorably by cutting off all contact with the commodore and his family. This was a tough pill for Gamaliel to swallow, as he had become so used to Trunnion's company over many years that giving it up felt like losing a part of himself. He therefore tried to express his inability to follow her advice and asked if he could at least distance himself gradually, insisting that he would do everything possible to satisfy her wishes.
Meanwhile preparations were made for Peregrine's departure to the university, and in a few weeks he set out, in the seventeenth year of his age, accompanied by the same attendants who lived with him at Winchester. His uncle laid strong injunctions upon him to avoid the company of immodest women, to mind his learning, to let him hear of his welfare as often as he could find time to write, and settled his appointments at the rate of five hundred a year, including his governor's salary, which was one-fifth part of the sum. The heart of our young gentleman dilated at the prospect of the figure he should make with such a handsome annuity the management of which was left to his own discretion; and he amused his imagination with the most agreeable reveries during his journey to Oxford, which he performed in two days. Here, being introduced to the head of the college, to whom he had been recommended, accommodated with genteel apartments, entered as gentleman commoner in the books, and provided with a judicious tutor, instead of returning to the study of Greek and Latin, in which he thought himself already sufficiently instructed, he renewed his acquaintance with some of his old school-fellows, whom he found in the same situation, and was by them initiated in all the fashionable diversions of the place.
Meanwhile, preparations were made for Peregrine's departure to university, and in a few weeks he set out at the age of seventeen, accompanied by the same attendants who had been with him at Winchester. His uncle strongly urged him to avoid the company of inappropriate women, focus on his studies, keep him updated on his well-being as often as he could manage to write, and arranged for his finances at the rate of five hundred a year, which included his governor's salary, one-fifth of the total amount. The prospect of the lifestyle he could lead with such a generous allowance, which he would manage on his own, thrilled him; he entertained himself with pleasant daydreams during his journey to Oxford, which took two days. Upon arrival, he was introduced to the head of the college, who had been recommended to him, given nice accommodations, enrolled as a gentleman commoner in the records, and assigned a knowledgeable tutor. Instead of returning to studying Greek and Latin—subjects he felt he already knew well—he reconnected with some of his old school friends, who were in the same situation, and they introduced him to all the popular activities in the area.
It was not long before he made himself remarkable for his spirit and humour, which were so acceptable to the bucks of the university, that he was admitted as a member of their corporation, and in a very little time became the most conspicuous personage of the whole fraternity. Not that he valued himself upon his ability in smoking the greatest number of pipes, and drinking the largest quantity of ale: these were qualifications of too gross a nature to captivate his refined ambition. He piqued himself on his talent for raillery, his genius and taste, his personal accomplishments, and his success at intrigue. Nor were his excursions confined to the small villages in the neighbourhood, which are commonly visited once a week by the students for the sake of carnal recreation. He kept his own horses, traversed the whole country in parties of pleasure, attended all the races within fifty miles of Oxford, and made frequent jaunts to London, where he used to be incognito during the best part of many a term.
It didn't take long for him to stand out for his energy and humor, which were so well-received by the university's elite that he was welcomed into their circle. Before long, he became the most prominent figure in the entire group. He didn't pride himself on being able to smoke the most pipes or drink the most beer; those were too crude for his refined ambitions. Instead, he took pride in his wit, his talent and taste, his personal skills, and his knack for romance. His adventures weren't limited to the small towns nearby that students typically visited weekly for some fun. He owned his own horses, traveled across the countryside in leisure groups, attended every race within fifty miles of Oxford, and frequently took trips to London, where he would often go incognito for much of the term.
The rules of the university were too severe to be observed by a youth of his vivacity; and therefore he became acquainted with the proctor betimes. But all the checks he received were insufficient to moderate his career; he frequented taverns and coffee-houses, committed midnight frolics in the streets, insulted all the sober and pacific class of his fellow-students: the tutors themselves were not sacred from his ridicule; he laughed at the magistrate, and neglected every particular of college discipline. In vain did they attempt to restrain his irregularities by the imposition of fines; he was liberal to profusion, and therefore paid without reluctance. Thrice did he scale the windows of a tradesman, with whose daughter he had an affair of gallantry; as often was he obliged to seek his safety by a precipitate leap; and one night would, in all probability, have fallen a sacrifice to an ambuscade that was laid by the father, had not his trusty squire Pipes interposed in his behalf, and manfully rescued him from the clubs of his enemies.
The university's rules were way too strict for a lively guy like him, so he got to know the proctor pretty early on. But all the punishments he faced weren’t enough to slow him down; he hung out at bars and coffee shops, partied in the streets late at night, and disrespected all the serious students. Even the tutors weren’t safe from his jokes; he laughed at the authorities and ignored every part of college rules. They tried to control his bad behavior by imposing fines, but he had money to burn and paid without a second thought. Three times, he climbed into the window of a shopkeeper whose daughter he was romantically involved with; each time, he had to jump out quickly to escape trouble. One night, he likely would have fallen victim to a trap set by the father if his loyal friend Pipes hadn’t stepped in to save him and bravely fought off his attackers.
In the midst of these excesses, Mr. Jolter, finding his admonitions neglected and his influence utterly destroyed, attempted to wean his pupil from his extravagant courses, by engaging his attention in some more laudable pursuit. With this view he introduced him into a club of politicians, who received him with great demonstrations of regard, accommodated themselves more than he could have expected to his jovial disposition, and while they revolved schemes for the reformation of the state, drank with such devotion to the accomplishment of their plans, that, before parting, the cares of their patriotism were quite overwhelmed.
In the middle of all this excess, Mr. Jolter, seeing that his advice was ignored and his influence completely shattered, tried to steer his pupil away from his reckless behavior by getting him involved in more respectable activities. To this end, he brought him into a political club, where they welcomed him warmly, adjusted to his cheerful personality more than he expected, and while they brainstormed ideas for improving the government, they drank so heavily in support of their initiatives that, by the time they broke up, their patriotic concerns were entirely forgotten.
Peregrine, though he could not approve of their doctrine, resolved to attach himself for some time to their company, because he perceived ample subject for his ridicule in the characters of these wrong-headed enthusiasts. It was a constant practice with them, in their midnight consistories, to swallow such plentiful draughts of inspiration, that their mysteries commonly ended like those of the Bacchanalian orgia; and they were seldom capable of maintaining that solemnity of decorum which, by the nature of their functions, most of them were obliged to profess. Now, as Peregrine's satirical disposition was never more gratified than when he had an opportunity of exposing grave characters in ridiculous attitudes, he laid a mischievous snare for his new confederates, which took effect in this manner:—In one of their nocturnal deliberations, he promoted such a spirit of good fellowship by the agreeable sallies of his wit, which were purposely leveled against their political adversaries, that by ten o'clock they were all ready to join in the most extravagant proposal that could be made. They broke their glasses in consequence of his suggestion, drank healths out of their shoes, caps, and the bottoms of the candlesticks that stood before them, sometimes standing with one foot on a chair, and the knee bent on the edge of the table; and when they could no longer stand in that posture, setting their bare posteriors on the cold floor. They huzzaed, hallooed, danced, and sang, and, in short, were elevated to such a pitch of intoxication, that when Peregrine proposed that they should burn their periwigs, the hint was immediately approved, and they executed the frolic as one man. Their shoes and caps underwent the same fate by the same instigation, and in this trim he led them forth into the street, where they resolved to compel everybody they should find to subscribe to their political creed, and pronounce the Shibboleth of their party. In the achievement of this enterprise, they met with more opposition than they expected; they were encountered with arguments which they could not well withstand; the noses of some, and eyes of others, in a very little time bore the marks of obstinate disputation. Their conductor having at length engaged the whole body in a fray with another squadron which was pretty much in the same condition, he very fairly gave them the slip, and slyly retreated to his apartment, foreseeing that his companions would soon be favoured with the notice of their superiors: nor was he deceived in his prognostic; the proctor, going his round, chanced to fall in with this tumultuous uproar, and, interposing his authority, found means to quiet the disturbance. He took cognizance of their names, and dismissed the rioters to their respective chambers, not a little scandalized at the behaviour of some among them, whose business and duty it was to set far other examples for the youth under their care and direction.
Peregrine, although he didn't agree with their beliefs, decided to stick around with them for a while because he saw plenty of opportunities to mock the ridiculous nature of these misguided enthusiasts. It was their usual practice during their late-night meetings to indulge so deeply in their misguided inspirations that their gatherings often resembled Bacchanalian revelries; they rarely maintained the seriousness that their roles required. Peregrine found great satisfaction in exposing serious characters in ridiculous situations, so he set a playful trap for his new companions that worked out like this: during one of their late-night discussions, he encouraged a spirit of camaraderie with his humorous remarks, deliberately aimed at their political opponents, which led them to eagerly embrace the wildest ideas. They broke their glasses as a result of his suggestion, drank toasts from their shoes, caps, and the bases of the candlesticks in front of them, sometimes standing with one foot on a chair, knee bent on the edge of the table; when they could no longer maintain that position, they sat down on the cold floor. They cheered, shouted, danced, and sang, and they reached such a level of drunkenness that when Peregrine suggested they should burn their wigs, everyone immediately agreed, and they carried out the prank enthusiastically. Their shoes and caps met the same fate due to his encouragement, and in this state, he led them out into the street, where they decided to force everyone they encountered to subscribe to their political beliefs and say the password of their party. In trying to do this, they faced more resistance than they had anticipated; they were confronted with arguments they couldn't easily counter, and soon some had bruised noses and swollen eyes from stubborn debates. Eventually, as Peregrine managed to get them all into a brawl with another group in a similar state, he cleverly slipped away and quietly retreated to his room, knowing his friends would soon attract the attention of their superiors. He was right; the proctor was making his rounds and stumbled upon the chaotic scene, and using his authority, he managed to bring the disorder under control. He noted their names and sent the troublemakers back to their rooms, somewhat shocked by the behavior of some among them, who should have been setting better examples for the youth they were responsible for.
About midnight, Pipes, who had orders to attend at a distance, and keep an eye upon Jolter, brought home that unfortunate governor upon his back, Peregrine having beforehand secured his admittance into the college; and among other bruises, he was found to have received a couple of contusions on his face, which next morning appeared in a black circle that surrounded each eye.
About midnight, Pipes, who had orders to watch from a distance and keep an eye on Jolter, brought the unfortunate governor home on his back, with Peregrine having already arranged for his entry into the college. Among other bruises, he was discovered to have a couple of welts on his face, which the next morning showed up as dark circles around each eye.
This was a mortifying circumstance to a man of his character and deportment, especially as he had received a message from the proctor, who desired to see him forthwith. With great humility and contrition he begged the advice of his pupil, who being used to amuse himself with painting, assured Mr. Jolter that he would cover those signs of disgrace with a slight coat of flesh-colour so dexterously, that it would be almost impossible to distinguish the artificial from the natural skin. The rueful governor, rather than expose such opprobrious tokens to the observation and censure of the magistrate, submitted to the expedient. Although his counsellor had overrated his own skill, he was persuaded to confide in the disguise, and actually attended the proctor, with such a staring addition to the natural ghastliness of his features, that his visage bore a very apt resemblance to some of those ferocious countenances that hang over the doors of certain taverns and ale-houses, under the denomination of the Saracen's head.
This was an embarrassing situation for a man like him, especially since he had just received a message from the proctor asking to see him immediately. Feeling very humble and regretful, he asked his pupil for advice. The pupil, who enjoyed painting, assured Mr. Jolter that he could cleverly hide those signs of shame with a light coat of skin tone that would make it nearly impossible to tell the fake from the real skin. The unhappy governor, not wanting to reveal such shameful marks to the proctor's scrutiny and judgment, agreed to the plan. Although his advisor had overestimated his own skills, Mr. Jolter decided to trust the disguise and went to see the proctor, sporting such an exaggerated element added to his already unsettling appearance that his face looked quite similar to some of the fierce faces that hang above the doors of certain inns and pubs, known as the Saracen's head.
Such a remarkable alteration of physiognomy could not escape the notice of the most undiscerning beholder, much less the penetrating eye of his severe judge, already whetted with what he had seen over-night. He was therefore upbraided with this ridiculous and shallow artifice, and, together with the companions of his debauch, underwent such a cutting reprimand for the scandalous irregularity of his conduct, that all of them remained crest-fallen, and were ashamed, for many weeks, to appear in the public execution of their duty.
Such a significant change in appearance couldn't go unnoticed by even the most oblivious observer, especially not by his strict judge, who was already sharp from what he had witnessed the night before. He was thus criticized for this absurd and superficial trick, and along with his party animals, he faced such a harsh reprimand for their scandalous behavior that they all felt deflated and were embarrassed to carry out their duties in public for weeks.
Peregrine was too vain of his finesse, to conceal the part he acted in this comedy, with the particulars of which he regaled his companions, and thereby entailed upon himself the hate and resentment of the community whose maxims and practices he had disclosed: for he was considered as a spy, who had intruded himself into their society, with a view of betraying it; or, at best, as an apostate and renegado from the faith and principles which he had professed.
Peregrine was too proud of his skills to hide the role he played in this situation, sharing the details with his friends and, in doing so, earning the hatred and resentment of the community whose beliefs and practices he revealed. He was seen as a spy who had infiltrated their society to betray it, or at best, as a traitor who had abandoned the beliefs and principles he once followed.
CHAPTER XXII.
He is insulted by his Tutor, whom he lampoons—Makes a considerable Progress in Polite Literature; and, in an Excursion to Windsor, meets with Emilia by accident, and is very coldly received.
He is insulted by his tutor, whom he mocks—makes significant progress in polite literature; and, during a trip to Windsor, he accidentally runs into Emilia, who receives him very coolly.
Among those who suffered by his craft and infidelity was Mr. Jumble, his own tutor, who could not at all digest the mortifying affront he had received, and was resolved to be revenged on the insulting author. With this view he watched the conduct of Mr. Pickle with the utmost rancour of vigilance, and let slip no opportunity of treating him disrespect, which he knew the disposition of his pupil could less brook than any other severity it was in his power to exercise.
Among those who suffered because of his skills and betrayal was Mr. Jumble, his own tutor, who couldn't handle the humiliating insult he had received and was determined to get back at the disrespectful author. To this end, he kept a close eye on Mr. Pickle with intense resentment and seized every chance to treat him with disrespect, knowing that his pupil's temperament would tolerate this form of punishment far less than any other harshness he could impose.
Peregrine had been several mornings absent from chapel; and as Mr. Jumble never failed to question him in a very peremptory style about his non-attendance, he invented some very plausible excuses; but at length his ingenuity was exhausted: he received a very galling rebuke for his proffigacy of morals; and, that he might feel it the more sensibly, was ordered, by way of exercise, to compose a paraphrase in English verse upon these two lines in Virgil:—
Peregrine had missed chapel for several mornings, and since Mr. Jumble always demanded to know why he hadn’t shown up, he made up some pretty convincing excuses. But eventually, he ran out of ideas: he got a painful scolding for his bad behavior, and to make sure he felt it more keenly, he was given the task of writing a paraphrase in English verse based on these two lines from Virgil:—
Vane Ligur, frustraque animis elate superbis,
Nequicquam patrias tentasti lubricus artes.
Vane Ligur, with your proud spirit lifted for no reason, You tried to use slippery skills on your homeland in vain.
The imposition of this invidious theme had all the desired effect upon Peregrine, who not only considered it as a piece of unmannerly abuse leveled against his own conduct, but also a retrospective insult on the memory of his grandfather, who, as he had been informed, was in his lifetime more noted for his cunning than candour in trade.
The enforcement of this nasty theme had the exact impact on Peregrine that was intended. He saw it not only as rude criticism of his own behavior but also as a disrespectful jab at the memory of his grandfather, who, as he had been told, was more known for his cunning than honesty in business during his lifetime.
Exasperated at this instance of the pedant's audacity, he had well nigh, in his first transports, taken corporal satisfaction on the spot; but, foreseeing the troublesome consequences that would attend such a flagrant outrage against the laws of the university, he checked his indignation, and resolved to revenge the injury in a more cool and contemptuous manner. Thus determined, he set on foot an inquiry into the particulars of Jumble's parentage and education. He learnt that the father of this insolent tutor was a brick-layer, that his mother sold pies, and that the son, in different periods of his youth, had amused himself in both occupations, before he converted his views to the study of learning. Fraught with this intelligence, he composed the following ballad in doggerel rhymes; and next day, presented it as a gloss upon the text which the tutor had chosen:—
Frustrated by the audacity of the know-it-all, he was almost ready, in his initial anger, to lash out right then and there; but, anticipating the messy fallout that would follow such a blatant violation of university rules, he restrained his anger and decided to get back at him in a cooler, more contemptuous way. With this in mind, he started looking into Jumble's background and upbringing. He found out that the arrogant tutor's father was a bricklayer, his mother sold pies, and that the son had dabbled in both jobs at various times in his youth before he shifted his focus to academia. Armed with this information, he wrote the following silly ballad in bad rhymes and the next day, presented it as a commentary on the text that the tutor had chosen:—
Come, listen, ye students of every degree;
I sing of a wit and a tutor perdie,
A statesman profound, a critic immense,
In short a mere jumble of learning and sense;
And yet of his talents though laudably vain,
His own family arts he could never attain.
His father, intending his fortune to build,
In his youth would have taught him the trowel to wield,
But the mortar of discipline never would stick,
For his skull was secured by a facing of brick;
And with all his endeavours of patience and pain,
The skill of his sire he could never attain.
His mother, a housewife neat, artful, and wise,
Renown'd for her delicate biscuit and pies,
soon alter'd his studies, by flattering his taste,
From the raising of walls to the rearing of paste!
But all her instructions were fruitless and vain;
The pie-making mystery he ne'er could attain.
Yet true to his race, in his labours were seen
A jumble of both their professions, I ween;
For, when his own genius he ventured to trust,
His pies seemed of brick, and his houses of crust.
Then good Mr. Tutor, pray be not so vain,
Since your family arts you could never attain.
Come, listen, you students of every level;
I sing of a witty tutor, indeed,
A deep thinker, a critical mind,
In short, a mix of knowledge and sense;
And yet, despite his talents being commendably vain,
He could never master his family’s skills.
His father, wanting to build his fortune,
In his youth tried to teach him to use a trowel,
But the discipline never quite stuck,
Because his head was hard as brick;
And despite all his father’s patience and effort,
He could never gain his dad’s skill.
His mother, a neat and clever housewife,
Famous for her delicate cookies and pies,
Soon changed his focus by catering to his tastes,
From building walls to baking dough!
But all her lessons were useless and pointless;
He never could master the art of pie-making.
Yet true to his background, in his work one could see
A mix of both their trades, I believe;
For, when he trusted his own talent,
His pies looked like bricks and his houses like crusts.
So, dear Mr. Tutor, don’t be so proud,
Since you could never master your family’s skills.This impudent production was the most effectual vengeance he could have taken on his tutor, who had all the supercilious arrogance and ridiculous pride of a low-born pedant. Instead of overlooking this petulant piece of satire with that temper and decency of disdain that became a person of his gravity and station, he no sooner cast his eye over the performance, than the blood rushed into his countenance, and immediately after exhibited a ghastly pale colour. With a quivering lip, he told his pupil, that he was an impertinent jackanapes; and he would take care that he should be expelled from the university, for having presumed to write and deliver such a licentious and scurrilous libel. Peregrine answered, with great resolution, that when the provocation he had received should be known, he was persuaded that he should be acquitted by the opinion of all impartial people; and that he was ready to submit the whole to the decision of the master.
This bold production was the best revenge he could have taken on his tutor, who had all the arrogant self-importance and ridiculous pride of a low-born know-it-all. Instead of dismissing this bothersome satire with the calm and dignified disdain that suited someone of his seriousness and status, the moment he glanced at the work, blood rushed to his face, and then he turned a sickly pale. With a quivering lip, he told his student that he was an insolent little brat, and he would make sure he got expelled from the university for daring to write and present such an outrageous and nasty piece. Peregrine replied, with great determination, that once the provocation he had faced was known, he was confident that he would be exonerated by the judgment of all fair-minded people; and that he was ready to leave the final decision to the master.
This arbitration he proposed, because he knew the master and Jumble were at variance; and, for that reason, the tutor durst not venture to put the cause on such an issue. Nay, when this reference was mentioned, Jumble, who was naturally jealous, suspected that Peregrine had a promise of protection before he undertook to commit such an outrageous insult; and this notion had such an effect upon him, that he decided to devour his vexation, and wait for a more proper opportunity of gratifying his hate. Meanwhile, copies of the ballad were distributed among the students, who sang it under the very nose of Mr. Jumble, to the tune of “A Cobbler there was” etc.; and the triumph of our hero was complete. Neither was his whole time devoted to the riotous extravagancies of youth. He enjoyed many lucid intervals, during which he contracted a more intimate acquaintance with the classics, applied himself to the reading of history, improved his taste for painting and music, in which he made some progress; and, above all things, cultivated the study of natural philosophy. It was generally after a course of close attention to some of these arts and sciences, that his disposition broke out into those irregularities and wild sallies of a luxuriant imagination, for which he became so remarkable; and he was perhaps the only young man in Oxford who, at the same time, maintained an intimate and friendly intercourse with the most unthinking, as well as the most sedate students at the university.
This arbitration he suggested, because he knew the master and Jumble were at odds; and for that reason, the tutor didn’t dare to bring the case up like that. When this reference was mentioned, Jumble, who was naturally jealous, suspected that Peregrine had some sort of protection promised to him before he dared to commit such a bold insult; and this idea impacted him so much that he decided to swallow his anger and wait for a better chance to take revenge. Meanwhile, copies of the ballad were handed out to the students, who sang it right in front of Mr. Jumble, to the tune of “A Cobbler there was," etc.; and our hero's triumph was complete. However, his entire time wasn't spent on the reckless antics of youth. He enjoyed many clear-headed moments, during which he developed a deeper understanding of the classics, focused on reading history, refined his taste for painting and music, in which he made some progress; and above all, he pursued the study of natural philosophy. It was usually after delving deeply into some of these arts and sciences that his personality erupted into the irregularities and wild bursts of a rich imagination for which he became so well-known; and he was perhaps the only young man in Oxford who simultaneously maintained close and friendly relationships with both the most thoughtless and the most serious students at the university.
It is not to be supposed that a young man of Peregrine's vanity, inexperience, and profusion, could suit his expense to his allowance, liberal as it was—for he was not one of those fortunate people who are born economists, and knew not the art of withholding his purse when he saw his companion in difficulty. Thus naturally generous and expensive, he squandered away his money, and made a most splendid appearance upon the receipt of his quarterly appointment; but long before the third month was elapsed, his finances were consumed: and as he could not stoop to ask an extraordinary supply, was too proud to borrow, and too haughty to run in debt with tradesmen, he devoted those periods of poverty to the prosecution of his studies, and shone forth again at the revolution of quarter-day.
It shouldn't be assumed that a young man like Peregrine, with his vanity, inexperience, and tendency to waste money, could manage to live within his means, no matter how generous those means were—he wasn't one of those lucky people born with a knack for budgeting and didn't know how to hold back his spending when he saw a friend in need. Naturally generous and extravagant, he blew through his cash and lived lavishly when he received his quarterly allowance; however, long before the third month was up, he was out of money. Unable to swallow his pride and ask for extra funds, too proud to borrow, and too arrogant to run up debts with merchants, he spent those times of financial struggle focusing on his studies and would emerge again when quarter-day rolled around.
In one of these eruptions he and some of his companions went to Windsor, in order to see the royal apartments in the castle, whither they repaired in the afternoon; and as Peregrine stood contemplating the picture of Hercules and Omphale, one of his fellow-students whispered in his car, “Zounds! Pickle, there are two fine girls!” He turned instantly about, and in one of them recognized his almost forgotten Emilia; her appearance acted upon his imagination like a spark of fire that falls among gun-powder; that passion which had lain dormant for the space of two years, flashed up in a moment, and he was seized with a trepidation. She perceived and partook of his emotion; for their souls, like unisons, vibrated with the same impulse. However, she called her pride and resentment to her aid, and found resolution enough to retire from such a dangerous scene.
In one of these outings, he and some friends went to Windsor to see the royal apartments in the castle in the afternoon. As Peregrine was admiring the painting of Hercules and Omphale, one of his fellow students leaned in and said, “Wow! Pickle, there are two gorgeous girls!” He immediately turned around and recognized his almost forgotten Emilia; seeing her ignited a spark in him like fire hitting gunpowder. The passion that had been dormant for two years flared up in an instant, and he was hit with a wave of nervousness. She sensed and shared his feelings because their souls seemed to resonate with the same force. However, she summoned her pride and anger and found the strength to step away from such a risky situation.
Alarmed at her retreat, he recollected all his assurance, and, impelled by love, which he could no longer resist, followed her into the next room, where, in the most disconcerted manner, he accosted her with “Your humble servant, Miss Gauntlet;” to which salutation she replied, with an affectation of indifference, that did not, however, conceal her agitation, “Your servant, sir;” and immediately extending her finger toward the picture of Duns Scotus, which is fixed over one of the doors, asked her companion, in a giggling tone, if she did not think he looked like a conjurer? Peregrine, nettled into spirits by this reception, answered for the other lady, “that it was an easy matter to be a conjurer in those times, when the simplicity of the age assisted his divination; but were he, or Merlin himself, to rise from the dead now, when such deceit and dissimulation prevail, they would not be able to earn their bread by the profession.”—“O! Sir,” said she, turning full upon him, “without doubt they would adopt new maxims; 'tis no disparagement in this enlightened age for one to alter one's opinion.”—“No, sure, madam,” replied the youth, with some precipitation, “provided the change be for the better.”—“And should it happen otherwise,” retorted the nymph, with a flirt of her fan, “inconstancy will never want countenance from the practice of mankind.”—“True, madam,” resumed our hero, fixing his eyes upon her; “examples of levity are every where to be met with.”—“Oh Lord, sir,” cried Emilia, tossing her head, “you'll scarce ever find a fop without it.”
Alarmed by her retreat, he gathered all his confidence and, driven by love that he could no longer resist, followed her into the next room. There, feeling quite flustered, he greeted her with, “Your humble servant, Miss Gauntlet,” to which she responded, pretending to be indifferent, though her agitation showed through, “Your servant, sir.” She then pointed toward the portrait of Duns Scotus above one of the doors and asked her companion, giggling, if he thought it looked like a magician. Peregrine, irritated yet spirited by her response, replied on behalf of the other lady, “It was easy to be a magician back in those days when the simplicity of the age helped with their tricks; but if he, or Merlin himself, were to rise from the dead now, with all the deceit and pretending going on, they wouldn’t be able to make a living in that profession.” “Oh! Sir,” she said, turning to him fully, “without a doubt they’d come up with new principles; it’s no shame in this enlightened age for someone to change their mind.” “No, of course not, madam,” the young man replied eagerly, “as long as the change is for the better.” “And if it turns out to be the opposite,” she shot back, flipping her fan, “inconsistency will always have support from how people behave.” “True, madam,” our hero continued, his gaze locked on her, “there are examples of shallowness everywhere.” “Oh Lord, sir,” Emilia exclaimed, tossing her head, “you’ll hardly find a dandy without it.”
By this time his companion, seeing him engaged with one of the ladies, entered into conversation with the other; and, in order to favour his friend's gallantry, conducted her into the next apartment, on pretence of entertaining her with the sight of a remarkable piece of painting.
By now, his friend, noticing him talking to one of the ladies, started chatting with the other. To support his friend's charm, he led her into the next room, pretending to show her a remarkable painting.
Peregrine, laying hold on this opportunity of being alone with the object of his love, assumed a most seducing tenderness of look, and, heaving a profound sigh, asked if she had utterly discarded him from her remembrance. Reddening at this pathetic question, which recalled the memory of the imagined slight he had put upon her, she answered in great confusion, “Sir, I believe I once had the pleasure of seeing you at a ball in Winchester.”—“Miss Emilia,” said he, very gravely, “will you be so candid as to tell me what misbehaviour of mine you are pleased to punish, by restricting your remembrance to that single occasion?”—“Mr. Pickle,” she replied, in the same tone, “it is neither my province nor inclination to judge your conduct; and therefore you misapply your question when you ask such an explanation of me”—“At least” resumed our lover, “give me the melancholy satisfaction to know for what offence of mine you refused to take least notice of that letter which I had the honour to write from Winchester by your own express permission.”—“Your letter,” said miss, with great vivacity, “neither required, nor, in my opinion, deserved an answer; and to be free with you, Mr. Pickle, it was but a shallow artifice to rid yourself of a correspondence you had deigned to solicit.”
Peregrine, taking advantage of the chance to be alone with his crush, put on a charmingly tender expression and, with a deep sigh, asked if she had completely forgotten about him. Blushing at this emotional question, which reminded her of the slight he thought he had given her, she replied, flustered, “Sir, I think I once saw you at a ball in Winchester.” — “Miss Emilia,” he said very seriously, “would you be so kind as to tell me what I did wrong that makes you limit your memories of me to that one occasion?” — “Mr. Pickle,” she responded, maintaining the same tone, “it’s not my place nor my desire to judge your actions; so you misinterpret my stance when you request such an explanation from me.” — “At the very least,” our lover continued, “please give me the sad satisfaction of knowing what I did that led you to completely ignore the letter I had the honor of sending from Winchester with your own explicit permission.” — “Your letter,” she said with enthusiasm, “needed no response and, in my view, didn’t deserve one; to be honest with you, Mr. Pickle, it was just a superficial trick to free yourself from a conversation that you had chosen to start.”
Peregrine, confounded at this repartee, replied that howsoever he might have failed in point of elegance or discretion, he was sure he had not been deficient in expressions of respect and devotion for those charms which it was his pride to adore: “As for the verses,” said he, “I own they were unworthy of the theme; but I flattered myself that they would have merited your acceptance, though not your approbation, and been considered not so much as the proof of my genius, as the genuine effusion of my love.”—“Verses,” cried Emilia with an air of astonishment, “what verses? I really don't understand you.”
Peregrine, taken aback by this response, stated that, no matter how he may have lacked in elegance or tact, he was confident he hadn’t fallen short in showing respect and devotion to the charms he was proud to admire. “As for the poems,” he said, “I admit they were not worthy of the subject; but I thought they might earn your acceptance, if not your approval, and be seen not so much as proof of my talent, but rather as a true expression of my love.” “Poems?” Emilia exclaimed, looking surprised, “What poems? I really don’t understand what you mean.”
The young gentleman was thunderstruck at this exclamation; to which, after a long pause, he answered: “I begin to suspect, and heartily wish it may appear, that we have misunderstood each other from the beginning. Pray, Miss Gauntlet, did you not find a copy of verses inclosed in that unfortunate letter?”—“Truly, sit,” said the lady, “I am not so much of a connoisseur as to distinguish whether that facetious production, which you merrily style as an unfortunate letter, was composed in verse or prose; but methinks, the jest is a little too stale to be brought upon the carpet again.” So saying, she tripped away to her companion, and left her lover in a most tumultuous suspense. He now perceived that her neglect of his addresses when he was at Winchester, must have been owing to some mystery which he could not comprehend; and she began to suspect and to hope that the letter which she received was spurious, though she could not conceive how that could possibly happen, as it had been delivered to her by the hands of his own servant.
The young man was stunned by this outburst; after a long pause, he replied, “I’m starting to think, and I really hope it turns out to be true, that we’ve misunderstood each other from the start. Please, Miss Gauntlet, didn’t you find a poem included in that unfortunate letter?” — “Honestly, sir,” the lady said, “I’m not really an expert, so I can’t tell if that humorous piece, which you jokingly call an unfortunate letter, was written in verse or prose; but it seems to me that the joke is a bit old to bring up again.” With that, she walked away to her friend, leaving her suitor in a state of great confusion. He now realized that her indifference to his advances when he was at Winchester must have stemmed from some mystery he couldn’t understand; and she started to suspect and hope that the letter she received was fake, even though she couldn’t figure out how that was possible since it was delivered to her by his own servant.
However, she resolved to leave the task of unravelling this affair to him, who, she knew, would infallibly exert himself for his own as well as her satisfaction. She was not deceived in her opinion: he went up to her again at the staircase, and, as they were improvided with a male attendant, insisted upon squiring the ladies to their lodgings. Emilia saw his drift, which was no other than to know where she lived; and though she approved of his contrivance, thought it was incumbent upon her, for the support of her own dignity, to decline the chivalry; she therefore thanked him for his polite offer, but would by no means consent to his giving himself such unnecessary trouble, especially as they had a very little way to walk. He was not repulsed by this refusal, the nature of which he perfectly understood; nor was she sorry to see him persevere in his determination: he therefore accompanied them in their return, and made divers efforts to speak with Emilia in particular; but she had a spice of the coquette in her disposition, and being determined to whet his impatience, artfully baffled all his endeavours, by keeping her companion continually engaged in the conversation, which turned upon the venerable appearance and imperial situation of the place. Thus tantalized, he lounged with them to the door of the house in which they lodged, when his mistress, perceiving, by the countenance of her comrade, that she was on the point of desiring him to walk in, checked her intention with a frown; then, turning to Mr. Pickle, dropped him a very formal curtsy, seized the other young lady by the arm, and saying, “Come, cousin Sophy,” vanished in a moment.
However, she decided to leave the task of figuring this out to him, knowing he would certainly work hard for both his own and her satisfaction. She wasn’t mistaken in her judgment: he came up to her again on the staircase, and since they didn’t have a male attendant, he insisted on escorting the ladies to their lodgings. Emilia understood his intention, which was simply to find out where she lived; and although she appreciated his plan, she felt it was important for her own dignity to decline his offer. So, she thanked him for his kind gesture but refused to let him go to such unnecessary trouble, especially since they had only a short distance to walk. He wasn’t discouraged by her refusal, which he completely understood; nor was she displeased to see him stick to his resolve. Therefore, he accompanied them on their way back and made several attempts to talk to Emilia in particular, but she had a bit of a flirtatious streak and was determined to tease him. She skillfully kept her companion engaged in conversation about the impressive appearance and majestic location of the place, frustrating his efforts. Finally, he walked with them to the door of the house where they were staying, and when his companion noticed by her friend's expression that she was about to invite him in, she stopped her with a frown. Then, turning to Mr. Pickle, she gave him a very formal curtsy, grabbed the other young lady by the arm, and said, “Come, cousin Sophy,” before disappearing in an instant.
CHAPTER XXIII.
After sundry unsuccessful Efforts, he finds means to come to an Explanation with his Mistress; and a Reconciliation ensues.
After several unsuccessful attempts, he manages to reach an understanding with his girlfriend, leading to a reconciliation.
Peregrine, disconcerted at their sudden disappearance, stood for some minutes gaping in the street, before he could get the better of his surprise; and then deliberated with himself whether he should demand immediate admittance to his mistress, or choose some other method of application. Piqued at her abrupt behaviour, though pleased with her spirit, he set his invention to work, in order to contrive some means of seeing her: and in a fit of musing arrived at the inn, where he found his companions, whom he had left at the castle-gate. They had already made inquiry about the ladies; in consequence of which he learnt that Miss Sophy was daughter of a gentleman in town to which his mistress was related; that an intimate friendship subsisted between the two young ladies; that Emilia had lived almost a month with her cousin, and appeared at the last assembly, where she was universally admired: and that several young gentlemen of fortune had since that time teased her with addresses.
Peregrine, confused by their sudden disappearance, stood in the street for a few minutes, astonished, before he could shake off his surprise. He then considered whether he should ask for immediate access to his mistress or find another way to approach her. Annoyed by her abrupt behavior but pleased with her spirit, he began to think of a way to see her. While daydreaming, he arrived at the inn, where he found his friends, whom he had left at the castle gate. They had already inquired about the ladies, and he learned that Miss Sophy was the daughter of a gentleman in town related to his mistress, that a close friendship existed between the two young women, that Emilia had been living with her cousin for almost a month, and that she had appeared at the last assembly, where she was widely admired. Several wealthy young men had since been pursuing her with flirtations.
Our hero's ambition was flattered, and his passion inflamed with this intelligence; and he swore within himself that he would not quit the spot until he should have obtained an undisputed victory over all his rivals.
Our hero's ambition was boosted, and his desire intensified with this news; he promised himself that he wouldn't leave the place until he had secured a clear victory over all his competitors.
That same evening he composed a most eloquent epistle, in which he earnestly entreated that she would favour him with an opportunity of vindicating his conduct: but she would neither receive his billet, nor see his messenger. Balked in this effort, he inclosed it in a new cover directed by another hand, and ordered Pipes to ride next morning to London, on purpose to deliver it at the post-office; that coming by such conveyance she might have no suspicion of the author, and open it before she should be aware of the deceit.
That same evening, he wrote a very eloquent letter, in which he urgently asked her for a chance to explain his actions. But she refused to accept his note or to see his messenger. Frustrated by this, he put the letter in a new envelope addressed by someone else and instructed Pipes to ride to London the next morning to drop it off at the post-office. This way, it would come by such means that she wouldn't suspect who the author was and would read it before realizing the trick.
Three days he waited patiently for the effect of this stratagem, and, in the afternoon of the fourth, ventured to hazard a formal visit, in quality of an old acquaintance. But here too he failed in his attempt: she was indisposed, and could not see company. These obstacles served only to increase his eagerness: he still adhered to his former resolution; and his companions, understanding his determination, left him next day to his own inventions. Thus relinquished to his own ideas, he doubled his assiduity, and practised every method his imagination could suggest, in order to promote his plan.
For three days, he patiently waited to see the outcome of his plan, and on the afternoon of the fourth day, he decided to pay a formal visit as an old acquaintance. But once again, he was unsuccessful: she was feeling unwell and couldn’t see anyone. These setbacks only fueled his determination; he remained committed to his original decision, and his friends, recognizing his resolve, left him to his own devices the next day. Left to his own thoughts, he increased his effort and tried every method he could come up with to move his plan forward.
Pipes was stationed all day long within sight of her door, that he might be able to give his master an account of her motions; but she never went abroad except to visit in the neighbourhood, and was always housed before Peregrine could be apprised of her appearance. He went to church with a view of attracting her notice, and humbled his deportment before her; but she was so mischievously devout as to look at nothing but her book, so that he was not favoured with one glance of regard. He frequented the coffee-house, and attempted to contract an acquaintance with Miss Sophy's father, who, he hoped, would invite him to his house: but this expectation was also defeated. That prudent gentleman looked upon him as one of those forward fortune-hunters who go about the country seeking whom they may devour, and warily discouraged all his advances. Chagrined by so many unsuccessful endeavours, he began to despair of accomplishing his aim; and, as the last suggestion of his art, paid off his lodging, took horse at noon, and departed, in all appearance, for the place from whence he had come. He rode, but a few miles, and in the dusk of the evening returned unseen, alighted at another inn, ordered Pipes to stay within doors, and keeping himself incognito, employed another person as a sentinel upon Emilia.
Pipes was stationed all day long within sight of her door so he could report back to his master about her movements; but she never went out except to visit nearby friends, and was always back home before Peregrine could be informed of her presence. He attended church hoping to catch her attention, and made sure to be humble in her presence; but she was so devoted that she only focused on her book, and he didn’t get a single glance from her. He often visited the coffee house, trying to get to know Miss Sophy’s father, hoping he would invite him over, but that hope was also crushed. The cautious gentleman saw him as just one of those overly ambitious fortune-seekers roaming around looking for their next target, and carefully shut down all his attempts. Frustrated by so many failed efforts, he started to lose hope of achieving his goal; and as a last-ditch effort, paid for his room, took a horse at noon, and left, apparently heading back to where he had come from. He rode just a few miles, and in the evening darkness returned without being seen, checked into another inn, told Pipes to stay inside, and, keeping himself hidden, hired someone else to keep watch on Emilia.
It was not long before he reaped the fruits of his ingenuity. Next day in the afternoon he was informed by his spy that the two young ladies were gone to walk in the park, whither he followed them on the instant, fully determined to come to an explanation with his mistress, even in presence of her friend, who might possibly be prevailed upon to interest herself in his behalf.
It didn't take long for him to see the results of his cleverness. The next afternoon, he was told by his spy that the two young ladies had gone for a walk in the park, so he followed them right away, fully determined to have a conversation with his girlfriend, even in front of her friend, who might be convinced to help him out.
When he saw them at such a distance that they could not return to town before he should have an opportunity of putting his resolution in practice, he mended his pace, and found means to appear before them so suddenly, that Emilia could not help expressing her surprise in a scream. Our lover, putting on a mien of humility and mortification, begged to know if her resentment was implacable; and asked why she had so cruelly refused to grant him the common privilege that every criminal enjoyed. “Dear Miss Sophy,” said he, addressing himself to her companion, “give me leave to implore your intercession with your cousin. I am sure you have humanity enough to espouse my cause, did you but know the justice of it; and I flatter myself that by your kind interposition I may be able to rectify that fatal misunderstanding which hath made me wretched.”—“Sir,” said Sophy, “you appear like a gentleman, and I doubt not but your behaviour has been always suitable to your appearance; but you must excuse me from undertaking any such office in behalf of a person whom I have not the honour to know.”—“Madam,” answered Peregrine, “I hope Miss Emy will justify my pretensions to that character, notwithstanding the mystery of her displeasure, which, upon my honour, I cannot for my soul explain.”—“Lord! Mr. Pickle,” said Emilia, who had by this time recollected herself, “I never questioned your gallantry and taste; but I am resolved that you shall never have cause to exercise your talents at my expense; so that you tease yourself and me to no purpose. Come, Sophy, let us walk home again.”—“Good God! madam,” cried the lover, with great emotion, “why will you distract me with such barbarous indifference? Stay, dear Emilia!—I conjure you on my knees to stay and hear me. By all that is sacred, I was not to blame. You must have been imposed upon by some villain who envied my good fortune, and took some treacherous method to ruin my love.”
When he spotted them from far away, knowing they couldn't get back to town before he had a chance to act on his decision, he quickened his pace and managed to appear before them so suddenly that Emilia let out a surprised scream. Our hero, feigning humility and disappointment, asked if her anger was unforgiving and why she had so harshly denied him the simple request that every wrongdoer was entitled to. “Dear Miss Sophy,” he said, addressing her companion, “please allow me to ask for your help with your cousin. I’m sure you have enough compassion to support my case if you understood its fairness; and I believe that with your kind intervention, I might be able to resolve that awful misunderstanding that has made me so unhappy.” —“Sir,” said Sophy, “you seem like a gentleman, and I have no doubt your behavior has always matched your appearance; however, you must excuse me from trying to help someone I don't have the honor of knowing.” —“Madam,” Peregrine replied, “I hope Miss Emy will vouch for my character, despite the mystery of her anger, which I truly cannot understand.” —“Oh! Mr. Pickle,” Emilia said, having regained her composure, “I never doubted your charm and style; but I’m determined that you won't get the chance to showcase your abilities at my expense, so don’t bother yourself or me unnecessarily. Come on, Sophy, let’s walk home.” —“Good heavens! Madam,” the heartbroken lover exclaimed, “why would you torture me with such cruel indifference? Please, dear Emilia! —I beg you on my knees to stay and listen to me. On everything that is sacred, I am not at fault. You must have been misled by some scoundrel who envied my good fortune and used some underhanded tactic to ruin my love.”
Miss Sophy, who possessed a large stock of good nature, and to whom her cousin had communicated the cause of her reserve, seeing the young gentleman so much affected with that disdain which she knew to be feigned, laid hold on Emilia's sleeve, saying, with a smile, “Not quite so fast, Emily. I begin to perceive that this is a love-quarrel, and therefore there may be hopes of a reconciliation; for I suppose both parties are open to conviction.”—“For my own part,” cried Peregrine, with great eagerness, “I appeal to Miss Sophy's decision. But why do I say appeal? Though I am conscious of having committed no offence, I am ready to submit to any penance, let it be never so rigorous, that my fair enslaver herself shall impose, provided it will entitle me to her favour and forgiveness at last.” Emily, well nigh overcome by this declaration, told him, that as she taxed him with no guilt, she expected no atonement, and pressed her companion to return to town. But Sophy, who was too indulgent to her friend's real inclination to comply with her request, observed that the gentleman seemed so reasonable in his concessions, that she began to think her cousin was in the wrong, and felt herself disposed to act as umpire in the dispute.
Miss Sophy, who had a great deal of good nature, and to whom her cousin had shared the reason for her distance, noticed the young man was so affected by that disdain she knew was fake. She grabbed Emilia's sleeve and said with a smile, “Not so fast, Emily. I’m starting to see this is a love quarrel, and there might be hope for reconciliation; I assume both sides are open to persuasion.” “As for me,” Peregrine said eagerly, “I turn to Miss Sophy for judgment. But why do I say turn? Even though I’m aware I’ve done nothing wrong, I’m willing to accept any punishment, no matter how harsh, that my lovely captor wants to give me, as long as it wins her favor and forgiveness in the end.” Emily, almost overwhelmed by this declaration, told him that since she accused him of no wrongdoing, she expected no penance, and urged her friend to head back to town. However, Sophy, who was too accommodating of her friend’s real desire to follow through with her request, noted that the gentleman seemed so reasonable in his offers that she started to think her cousin was in the wrong and felt inclined to act as a mediator in the conflict.
Overjoyed at this condescension, Mr. Pickle thanked her in the most rapturous terms, and, in the transport of his expectation, kissed the hand of his kind mediatrix—a circumstance which had a remarkable effect on the countenance of Emilia, who did not seem to relish the warmth of his acknowledgment.
Overjoyed by this kindness, Mr. Pickle thanked her with the most enthusiastic words, and in his excitement, he kissed the hand of his kind mediator—an action that had a noticeable impact on Emilia’s expression, as she didn’t seem to appreciate the intensity of his gratitude.
After many supplications on one hand, and pressing remonstrances on the other, she yielded at length, and, turning to her lover while her face was overspread with blushes,—“Well, sir,” said she, “supposing I were to put the difference on that issue, how could you excuse the ridiculous letter which you sent to me from Winchester?” This expostulation introduced a discussion of the whole affair, in which all the circumstances were canvassed; and Emilia still affirmed, with great heat, that the letter must have been calculated to affront her; for she could not suppose the author was so weak as to design it for any other purpose.
After a lot of begging on one side and pushing back on the other, she finally gave in and, blushing, turned to her lover and said, “Well, sir, if I were to bring that issue up, how would you explain the ridiculous letter you sent me from Winchester?” This sparked a discussion about the whole situation, where they examined all the details, and Emilia still insisted passionately that the letter was meant to offend her; she just couldn’t believe the writer was so naive as to intend it for any other reason.
Peregrine, who still retained in his memory the substance of this unlucky epistle, as well as the verses which were inclosed, could recollect no particular expression which could have justly given the least umbrage; and therefore, in the agonies of perplexity, begged that the whole might be submitted to the judgment of Miss Sophy, and faithfully promised to stand to her award. In short, this proposal was, with seeming reluctance, embraced by Emilia, and an appointment made to meet next day in the place, whither both parties were desired to come provided with their credentials, according to which definitive sentence would be pronounced.
Peregrine, who still remembered the content of this unfortunate letter, along with the enclosed verses, couldn't recall any specific wording that could have reasonably caused offense. In his deep confusion, he requested that the entire matter be brought to Miss Sophy's attention and promised to abide by her decision. In short, Emilia reluctantly agreed to this proposal, and they arranged to meet the next day at the place, where both parties were asked to bring their credentials, based on which a final decision would be made.
Our lover, having succeeded thus far, overwhelmed Sophy with acknowledgments on account of her generous mediation; and in the course of their walk, which Emilia was now in no hurry to conclude, whispered a great many tender protestations in the ear of his mistress, who nevertheless continued to act upon the reserve, until her doubts should be more fully resolved.
Our lover, having succeeded so far, showered Sophy with thanks for her kind help; and during their walk, which Emilia was in no rush to end, whispered a lot of sweet declarations into his mistress's ear, who still decided to stay reserved until her doubts were more clearly addressed.
Mr. Pickle, having found means to amuse them in the fields till the twilight, was obliged to wish them good even, after having obtained a solemn repetition of their promise to meet him at the appointed time and place, and then retreated to his apartment, where he spent the whole night in various conjectures on the subject of the letter, the Gordian knot of which he could by no means untie. One while he imagined that some wag had played a trick on his messenger, in consequence of which Emilia had received a supposititious letter; but, upon farther reflection, he could not conceive the practicability of any such deceit. Then he began to doubt the sincerity of his mistress, who perhaps had only made that a handle for discarding him, at the request of some favoured rival; but his own integrity forbade him to harbour this mean suspicion; and therefore he was again involved in the labyrinth of perplexity. Next day he waited on the rack of impatience for the hour of five in the afternoon, which no sooner struck than he ordered Pipes to attend him, in case there should be occasion for his evidence, and repaired to the place of rendezvous, where he had not tarried five minutes before the ladies appeared. Mutual compliments being passed, and the attendant stationed at a convenient distance, Peregrine persuaded them to sit down upon the grass, under the shade of a spreading oak, that they might be more at their ease; while he stretched himself at their feet, and desired that the paper on which his doom depended might be examined. It was accordingly put into the hand of his fair arbitress, who read it immediately with an audible voice. The first two words of it were no sooner pronounced, than he started, with great emotion, and raised himself upon his hand and knee, in which posture he listened to the rest of the sentence; then sprang upon his feet in the utmost astonishment, and, glowing with resentment at the same time, exclaimed, “Hell and the devil! what's all that? Sure you make a jest of me, madam!”—“Pray, sir,” said Sophy, “give me the hearing for a few moments, and then urge what you shall think proper in your own defence.” Having thus cautioned him, she proceeded; but before she had finished one-half of the performance, her gravity forsook her, and she was seized with a violent fit of laughter, in which neither of the lovers could help joining, notwithstanding the resentment which at that instant prevailed in the breasts of both. The judge, however, in a little time, resumed her solemnity, and having read the remaining part of this curious epistle, all three continued staring at each other alternately for the space of half a minute, and then broke forth at the same instant in another paroxysm of mirth. From this unanimous convulsion, one would have thought that both parties were extremely well pleased with a joke, yet this was by no means the case.
Mr. Pickle, having found a way to entertain them in the fields until twilight, had to say good evening after getting a solemn promise from them to meet him at the agreed time and place. He then went back to his room, where he spent the whole night coming up with various theories about the letter, a puzzle he couldn't solve. At first, he thought someone had played a prank on his messenger, resulting in Emilia receiving a fake letter; however, on further reflection, he couldn't see how such a trick could be pulled off. Then he started to doubt the sincerity of his girlfriend, who might have used that as an excuse to dismiss him at the request of some favored rival. But his integrity wouldn’t let him entertain such a low suspicion, leaving him tangled in confusion once again. The next day, he anxiously awaited the 5 PM hour; as soon as it arrived, he called for Pipes to accompany him, just in case his testimony was needed, and headed to their meeting spot. He barely waited five minutes before the ladies arrived. After exchanging mutual compliments and placing the attendant at a reasonable distance, Peregrine urged them to sit on the grass beneath a large oak tree to be more comfortable while he reclined at their feet, asking to examine the paper on which his fate rested. It was handed to his fair judge, who began to read it aloud. The moment she pronounced the first two words, he jumped up, filled with emotion, propping himself up on his hand and knee as he listened to the rest of the sentence. Then he leaped to his feet in utter astonishment, his face flushing with anger, and shouted, “What the hell! What’s going on? You must be joking with me, madam!”—“Please, sir,” Sophy replied, “let me finish before you say anything in your defense.” After cautioning him, she continued reading, but before she reached halfway through, her composure left her, and she burst into a fit of laughter, which both lovers couldn’t help but join in, despite their earlier anger. Eventually, the judge regained her seriousness and finished reading the rest of the unusual letter. All three stared at each other for half a minute before breaking into another fit of laughter. From this shared reaction, one might think both parties were enjoying a good joke, but that was far from the truth.
Emilia imagined that, notwithstanding his affected surprise, her lover, in spite of himself, had received the laugh at her expense, and in so doing applauded his own unmannerly ridicule. This supposition could not fail of raising and reviving her indignation, while Peregrine highly resented the indignity, with which he supposed himself treated, in their attempting to make him the dupe of such a gross and ludicrous artifice. This being the situation of their thoughts, their mirth was succeeded by a mutual gloominess of aspect; and the judge, addressing herself to Mr. Pickle, asked if he had anything to offer why sentence should not be pronounced? “Madam,” answered the culprit, “I am sorry to find myself so low in the opinion of your cousin as to be thought capable of being deceived by such shallow contrivance.”—“Nay, sir,” said Emilia, “the contrivance is your own; and I cannot help admiring your confidence in imputing it to me.”—“Upon my honour, Miss Emily, resumed our hero, “you wrong my understanding, as well as my love, in accusing me of having written such a silly, impertinent performance. The very appearance and address of it is so unlike the letter which I did myself the honour to write, that I dare say my man, even at this distance of time, will remember the difference.”
Emilia thought that, despite his feigned surprise, her lover secretly enjoyed making fun of her and, in doing so, celebrated his own rude mockery. This idea only fueled her anger, while Peregrine felt insulted, believing they were trying to trick him with such a blatant and ridiculous scheme. With their minds in this state, the laughter gave way to a shared gloom, and the judge turned to Mr. Pickle, asking if he had anything to say for why a sentence should not be given. “Madam,” the accused replied, “I’m sorry to see myself held in such low regard by your cousin as to be thought capable of falling for such a silly trick.” “Well, sir,” Emilia said, “the trick is yours; I can’t help but admire your boldness in blaming it on me.” “On my honor, Miss Emilia,” our hero replied, “you misunderstand my intelligence as well as my feelings by accusing me of writing such a foolish and annoying piece. Its style and presentation are so different from the letter I had the honor to write that I’m sure my servant, even now, would remember the distinction.”
So saying, he extended his voice, and beckoned to Pipes, who immediately drew near. His mistress seemed to object to the evidence, by observing that to be sure Mr. Pipes had his cue; when Peregrine, begging she would spare him the mortification of considering him in such a dishonourable light, desired his valet to examine the outside of the letter, and recollect if it was the same which he had delivered to Miss Gauntlet about two years ago. Pipes, having taken a superficial view of it, pulled up his breeches, saying, “Mayhap it is, but we have made so many trips, and been in so many creeks and corners since that time, that I can't pretend to be certain; for I neither keep journal nor log-book of our proceedings.” Emilia commended him for his candour, at the same time darting a sarcastic look at his master, as if she thought he had tampered with his servant's integrity in vain; and Peregrine began to live and curse his fate for having subjected him to such mean suspicion, attesting heaven and earth in the most earnest manner, that far from having composed and conveyed that stupid production, he had never seen it before, nor been privy to the least circumstance of the plan.
So saying, he raised his voice and signaled to Pipes, who quickly came over. His mistress seemed to challenge the evidence, noting that Mr. Pipes surely knew his part; when Peregrine, asking her to spare him the humiliation of being seen in such a dishonorable light, requested his valet to check the outside of the letter and remember if it was the same one he had given to Miss Gauntlet about two years ago. Pipes, after a quick glance, adjusted his pants and said, “It might be, but we’ve been on so many trips and visited so many spots since then that I can’t be sure; I don’t keep a journal or log of our activities.” Emilia praised him for his honesty while shooting a sarcastic glance at his master, as if she thought he had tried in vain to undermine his servant's integrity; and Peregrine began to grieve and curse his fate for putting him under such petty suspicion, swearing to heaven and earth in the strongest terms that far from having written and sent that ridiculous document, he had never seen it before and was unaware of any details about the plan.
Pipes, now, for the first time, perceived the mischief which he had occasioned; and, moved with the transports of his master, for whom he had a most inviolable attachment, frankly declared he was ready to make oath that Mr. Pickle had no hand in the letter which he delivered. All three were amazed at this confession, the meaning of which they could not comprehend. Peregrine, after some pause, leaped upon Pipes, and seizing him by the throat, exclaimed, in an ecstasy of rage. “Rascal! tell me this instant what became of the letter I entrusted to your care.” The patient valet, half-strangled as he was, squirted a collection of tobacco-juice out of one corner of his mouth, and with great deliberation replied, “Why, burnt it, you wouldn't have me to give the young woman a thing that shook all in the wind in tatters, would you?” The ladies interposed in behalf of the distressed squire, from whom, by dint of questions which he had neither art nor inclination to evade, they extorted an explanation of the whole affair.
Pipes, for the first time, realized the trouble he had caused and, influenced by the emotions of his master, to whom he had a deep loyalty, openly said he was ready to swear that Mr. Pickle had nothing to do with the letter he delivered. All three were shocked by this confession, which they couldn’t understand. After a moment, Peregrine jumped on Pipes and grabbed him by the throat, shouting in a fit of rage, “You scoundrel! Tell me right now what happened to the letter I gave you!” The poor servant, nearly choked, spat out a bit of tobacco juice and calmly replied, “Well, I burned it. You wouldn’t want me to give the young woman something that was all tattered and shaking in the wind, would you?” The ladies stepped in to defend the distressed squire, and through a barrage of questions that he neither had the skill nor the desire to avoid, they forced him to explain the entire situation.
Such ridiculous simplicity and innocence of intention appeared in the composition of his expedient, that even the remembrance of all the chagrin which it had produced, could not rouse their indignation, or enable the to resist a third eruption of laughter which they forthwith underwent. Pipes was dismissed, with many menacing injunctions to beware of such conduct for the future; Emilia stood with a confusion of joy and tenderness in her countenance; Peregrine's eyes kindled into rapture, and, when Miss Sophy pronounced the sentence of reconciliation, advanced to his mistress, saying, “Truth is mighty, and will prevail;” then clapping her in his arms, very impudently ravished a kiss, which she had not power to refuse. Nay, such was the impulse of his joy, that he took the same freedom with the lips of Sophy, calling her his kind mediatrix and guardian angel; and behaved with such extravagance of transport, as plainly evinced the fervour and sincerity of his love.
Such ridiculous simplicity and innocent intentions showed in his plan that even the memory of all the annoyance it had caused couldn’t stir their anger or stop them from laughing again. Pipes was sent away with plenty of warnings to watch his behavior in the future. Emilia had a mix of joy and tenderness on her face; Peregrine’s eyes sparkled with delight, and when Miss Sophy declared their reconciliation, he approached Emilia, saying, “Truth is powerful and will win out.” Then, without asking, he pulled her into his arms and shamelessly stole a kiss, which she couldn’t bring herself to deny. In fact, his joy was so overwhelming that he took the same liberty with Sophy’s lips, calling her his kind mediator and guardian angel, and his wild excitement clearly showed the depth and sincerity of his love.
I shall not pretend to repeat the tender protestations that were uttered on one side, or describe the bewitching glances of approbation with which they were received on the other, suffice it to say that the endearing intimacy of their former connection was instantly renewed, and Sophy, who congratulated them on the happy termination of their quarrel, favoured with their mutual confidence. In consequence of this happy pacification, they deliberated upon the means of seeing each other often; and as he could not, without some previous introduction, visit her openly at the house of her relation, they agreed to meet every afternoon in the park till the next assembly, at which he would solicit her as a partner, and she be unengaged, in expectation of his request. By this connection he would be entitled to visit her next day, and thus an avowed correspondence would of course commence. This plan was actually put in execution, and attended with a circumstance which had well-nigh produced some mischievous consequence, had not Peregrine's good fortune been superior to his discretion.
I won’t try to repeat the heartfelt declarations made on one side or describe the charming looks of approval they received on the other. It’s enough to say that the close bond they once had was quickly rekindled, and Sophy congratulated them on resolving their argument, encouraging their renewed trust in each other. Because of this joyful reconciliation, they discussed ways to see each other more frequently. Since he couldn’t visit her openly at her relative's house without prior introduction, they decided to meet every afternoon in the park until the next assembly, where he would ask her to dance, and she would remain unengaged, anticipating his invitation. This connection would allow him to visit her the next day, naturally leading to an open friendship. They actually put this plan into action, which almost led to some trouble, but Peregrine’s good luck outmatched his caution.
CHAPTER XXIV.
He achieves an Adventure at the Assembly, and quarrels with his Governor.
He goes on an adventure at the assembly and argues with his governor.
At the assembly, were no fewer than three gentlemen of fortune, who rivalled our lover in his passion for Emilia, and who had severally begged the honour of dancing with her upon this occasion. She had excused herself to each, on pretence of a slight indisposition that she foresaw would detain her from the ball, and desired they would provide themselves with other partners. Obliged to admit her excuse, they accordingly followed her advice; and after they had engaged themselves beyond the power of retracting, had the mortification of seeing her there unclaimed. They in their turn made up to her, and expressed their surprise and concern at finding her in the assembly unprovided, after she had declined their invitation; but she told them that her cold had forsaken her since she had the pleasure of seeing them, and that she would rely upon accident for a partner. Just as she pronounced these words to the last of the three, Peregrine advanced as an utter stranger, bowed with great respect, told her he understood she was unengaged, and would think himself highly honoured in being accepted as her partner for the night; and he had the good fortune to succeed in his application.
At the gathering, there were at least three wealthy gentlemen who competed with our suitor for Emilia's affection and each of them had asked to dance with her that evening. She had politely turned them down, claiming she was feeling a bit unwell and would have to miss the ball, urging them to find other partners. They reluctantly accepted her excuse and, after securing other commitments, were dismayed to see her there without a partner. They approached her again, expressing their surprise and concern about her being alone after she had declined their invitations, but she assured them that her cold had vanished since she last saw them and that she was willing to leave it to chance to find a partner. Just as she finished speaking to the last of the three, Peregrine approached as a complete stranger, bowed respectfully, mentioned that he heard she was without a partner, and said he would be honored to dance with her that night; thankfully, he succeeded in his request.
As they were by far the handsomest and best-accomplished couple in the room, they could not fail of attracting the notice and admiration of the spectators, which inflamed the jealousy of his three competitors, who immediately entered into a conspiracy against this gaudy stranger, whom, as their rival, they resolved to affront in public. Pursuant to the plan which they projected for this purpose, the first country-dance was no sooner concluded, than one of them, with his partner, took place of Peregrine and his mistress, contrary to the regulation of the ball. Our lover, imputing his behaviour to inadvertency, informed the gentleman of his mistake, and civilly desired he would rectify his error. The other told him, in an imperious tone, that he wanted none of his advice, and bade him mind his own affairs. Peregrine answered, with some warmth, and insisted upon his right: a dispute commenced, high words, ensued, in the course of which, our impetuous youth hearing himself reviled with the appellation of scoundrel, pulled off his antagonist's periwig, and flung it in his face. The ladies immediately shrieked, the gentlemen interposed, Emilia was seized with a fit of trembling, and conducted to her seat by her youthful admirer, who begged pardon for having discomposed her, and vindicated what he had done, by representing the necessity he was under to resent the provocation he had received.
As they were definitely the most attractive and accomplished couple in the room, they caught the attention and admiration of everyone around, which sparked jealousy in his three rivals. They quickly conspired against this flashy newcomer, aiming to confront him publicly. According to their plan, as soon as the first country dance ended, one of them, with his partner, took the place of Peregrine and his lady, going against the rules of the ball. Peregrine, thinking the man just made a mistake, informed him of the error and politely asked him to fix it. The other guy, speaking arrogantly, said he didn’t want any of his advice and told him to mind his own business. Peregrine responded heatedly and insisted on his right to the spot, leading to a heated argument. During the exchange, when the hotheaded youth was insulted with the term "scoundrel," he yanked off his rival's wig and threw it in his face. The ladies screamed, the gentlemen intervened, Emilia started trembling and was helped back to her seat by her young admirer, who apologized for upsetting her and defended his actions by saying he had to respond to the provocation he faced.
Though she could not help owning the justice of his plea, she not the less concerned at the dangerous situation in which he had involved himself, and, in the utmost consternation and anxiety, insisted upon going directly home: he could not resist her importunities; and her cousin being determined to accompany her, he escorted to their lodgings, where he wished them good night, after having, in order to quiet their apprehensions, protested, that if his opponent was satisfied, he should never take any step towards the prosecution of the quarrel. Meanwhile the assembly-room became a of scene of tumult and uproar: the person who conceived himself injured, seeing Peregrine retire, struggled with his companions, in order to pursue and take satisfaction of our hero, whom he loaded with terms of abuse, and challenged to single combat. The director of the ball held a consultation with all the subscribers who were present; and it was determined, by a majority of votes, that the two gentlemen who had occasioned the disturbance should be desired to withdraw. This resolution being signified to one of the parties then present, he made some difficulty of complying, but was persuaded to submit by his two confederates, who accompanied him to the street-door, where he was met by Peregrine on his return to the assembly.
Though she couldn't help but agree with his argument, she was still worried about the dangerous situation he had gotten himself into. In her utmost fear and anxiety, she insisted on going straight home. He couldn't resist her pleas, and with her cousin determined to go with her, he escorted them to their lodgings. There, he wished them good night, assuring them that if his opponent was satisfied, he would never take any steps to escalate the conflict. Meanwhile, the assembly room erupted into chaos: the man who felt wronged, seeing Peregrine leave, fought with his friends to go after him and seek revenge, hurling insults and challenging our hero to a duel. The director of the ball held a meeting with all the subscribers present, and it was decided by a majority vote that the two gentlemen responsible for the disruption should be asked to leave. When this decision was communicated to one of the parties present, he hesitated, but his two companions convinced him to comply as they walked him to the street door, where he encountered Peregrine returning to the assembly.
This choleric gentleman, who was a country squire, no sooner saw his rival, than he began to brandish his cudgel in a menacing posture, when our adventurous youth, stepping back with one foot, laid his hand upon the hilt of his sword, which he drew half way out of the scabbard. This attitude, and the sight of the blade which glistened by moonlight in his face, checked, in some sort, the ardour of his assailant, who desired he would lay aside his toaster, and take a bout with him at equal arms. Peregrine, who was an expert cudgel-player, accepted the invitation: then, exchanging weapons with Pipes, who stood behind him, put himself in a posture of defence, and received the attack of his adversary, who struck at random, without either skill or economy. Pickle could have beaten the cudgel out of his hand at the first blow; but as in that case he would have been obliged in honour to give immediate quarter, he resolved to discipline his antagonist without endeavouring to disable him, until he should be heartily satisfied with the vengeance he had taken. With this view be returned the salute, and raised such a clatter about the squire's pate, that one who had heard without seeing the application, would have taken the sound for that of a salt-box, in the hand of a dexterous merry-andrew, belonging to one of the booths at Bartholomew-fair. Neither was this salutation confined to his head: his shoulders, arms, thighs, ankles, and ribs, were visited with amazing rapidity, while Tom Pipes sounded the charge through his fist. Peregrine, tired with his exercise, which had almost bereft his enemy of sensation, at last struck the decisive blow, in consequence of which the squire's weapon flew out of his grasp, and he allowed our hero to be the better man. Satisfied with this acknowledgment, the victor walked upstairs with such elevation of spirits and insolence of mien, that nobody chose to intimate the resolution, which had been taken in his absence; there, having amused himself for some time in beholding the country-dances, he retreated to his lodging, where he indulged himself all night in the contemplation of his own success.
This angry gentleman, who was a country squire, immediately saw his rival and started waving his stick threateningly. Our brave young man, stepping back with one foot, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and drew it halfway out of the scabbard. The sight of the blade gleaming in the moonlight somewhat cooled the aggression of his attacker, who then suggested that he put away his sword and fight him fairly. Peregrine, who was good at using a stick, accepted the challenge. He exchanged weapons with Pipes, who stood behind him, took a defensive stance, and faced the onslaught of his opponent, who was swinging wildly without any skill or strategy. Pickle could have knocked the stick out of his hand with the first hit, but since that would mean he’d have to give immediate mercy, he decided to teach his opponent a lesson without trying to incapacitate him, until he was thoroughly satisfied with his revenge. With that intention, he returned the blows and hit the squire’s head with such force that anyone who heard but didn’t see would think it was the sound of a saltbox being juggled by a skilled entertainer at Bartholomew Fair. This greeting wasn't limited to his head; his shoulders, arms, thighs, ankles, and ribs were all hit with incredible speed, while Tom Pipes cheered him on with his fist. Peregrine, growing tired from the fight, which had nearly rendered his opponent senseless, finally landed the finishing blow, causing the squire’s weapon to fly out of his hands, allowing our hero to claim victory. Happy with this acknowledgment, the winner walked upstairs with such high spirits and arrogance that no one dared to mention the plans made in his absence. Once there, after spending some time watching the country dances, he returned to his room, where he spent the entire night reflecting on his success.
Next day in the forenoon he went to visit his partner; and the gentleman, at whose house she lived, having been informed of his family and condition, received him with great courtesy, as the acquaintance of his cousin Gauntlet, and invited him to dinner that same day. Emilia was remarkably well pleased, when she understood the issue of his adventure, which began to make some noise in town even though it deprived her of a wealthy admirer. The squire, having consulted an attorney about the nature of the dispute, in hopes of being able to prosecute Peregrine for an assault, found little encouragement to go to law: he therefore resolved to pocket the insult and injury he had undergone, and to discontinue his addresses to her who was the cause of both.
The next day in the morning, he went to visit his partner. The gentleman who lived at the house where she stayed, having learned about his background and situation, welcomed him warmly as the friend of his cousin Gauntlet and invited him to dinner that same day. Emilia was very pleased when she found out about his adventure, which was starting to create some buzz in town, even though it meant she lost a wealthy admirer. The squire, after consulting a lawyer about the nature of the dispute, hoping to take legal action against Peregrine for assault, found little encouragement to pursue the case. Therefore, he decided to swallow his pride and the hurt he felt, and he stopped pursuing the woman who was the cause of it all.
Our lover being told by his mistress that she proposed to stay a fortnight longer in Windsor, he determined to enjoy her company all that time, and then to give her a convoy to the house of her mother, whom he longed to see. In consequence of this plan, he every day contrived some fresh party of pleasure for the ladies, to whom he had by this time free access; and entangled himself so much in the snares of love, that he seemed quite enchanted by Emilia's charms, which were now indeed almost irresistible. While he thus heedlessly roved in the flowery paths of pleasure, his governor at Oxford alarmed at the unusual duration of his absence, went to the young gentlemen who had accompanied him in his excursion, and very earnestly entreated them to tell him, what they knew concerning his pupil: they accordingly gave him an account of the reencounter that happened between Peregrine and Miss Emily Gauntlet in the castle, and mentioned circumstances sufficient to convince him that his charge was very dangerously engaged.
Our lover, hearing from his mistress that she planned to stay in Windsor for another two weeks, decided to enjoy her company for the entire time and then escort her to her mother's house, whom he was eager to see. Because of this plan, he came up with new outings for the ladies every day since he had free access to them by this point, and he got so caught up in the traps of love that he seemed completely enchanted by Emilia's charms, which were now almost impossible to resist. While he carelessly wandered through the delightful paths of pleasure, his guardian at Oxford, worried about the unusually long duration of his absence, went to the young men who had joined him on the trip and earnestly asked them to share what they knew about his pupil. They explained the reunion that took place between Peregrine and Miss Emily Gauntlet at the castle and provided enough details to convince him that his charge was very dangerously involved.
Far from having an authority over Peregrine, Mr. Jolter durst not even disoblige him: therefore, instead of writing to the commodore, he took horse immediately, and that same night reached Windsor, where he found his stray sheep very much surprised at his unexpected arrival. The governor desiring to have some serious conversation with him, they shut themselves up in an apartment, when Jolter, with great solemnity, communicated the cause of his journey, which was no other than his concern for his pupil's welfare; and very gravely undertook to prove, by mathematical demonstration, that this intrigue, if further pursued, would tend to the young gentleman's ruin and disgrace. This singular proposition raised the curiosity of Peregrine, who promised to yield all manner of attention, and desired him to begin without further preamble.
Mr. Jolter didn’t have authority over Peregrine; in fact, he wouldn't even dare to go against him. So instead of writing to the commodore, he hopped on a horse right away and that same night made it to Windsor, where he found his wayward pupil quite surprised by his unexpected visit. The governor wanted to have a serious talk with him, so they locked themselves in a room. Jolter, with great seriousness, explained the reason for his trip, which was simply his concern for Peregrine's well-being. He then earnestly set out to prove, with mathematical reasoning, that if this affair continued, it would lead to the young man’s ruin and disgrace. This unusual claim piqued Peregrine’s curiosity, and he promised to listen attentively, urging Jolter to get started without any more delay.
The governor, encouraged by this appearance of candour, expressed his satisfaction in finding him so open to conviction, and told him he would proceed upon geometrical principles; then, hemming thrice, observed that no mathematical inquiries could be carried on, except upon certain data, or concessions of truth that were self-evident; and therefore he must have his assent to a few axioms, which he was sure Mr. Pickle would see no reason to dispute. “In the first place, then,” said he, “you will grant, I hope, that youth and discretion are with respect to each other as two parallel lines, which, though infinitely produced, remain still equidistant, and will never coincide: then you must allow that passion acts upon the human mind in a ratio compounded of the acuteness of sense, and constitutional heat; and, thirdly, you will not deny that the angle of remorse is equal to that of precipitation. These postulata being admitted,” added he, taking pen, ink, and paper, and drawing a parallelogram, “let youth be represented by the right line, a b, and discretion by another right line, c d, parallel to the former. Complete the parallelogram, a b c d, and let the point of intersection, b, represent perdition. Let passion, represented under the letter c, have a motion in the direction c a. At the same time, let another motion be communicated to it, in the direction c d, it will proceed in the diagonal c b, and describe it in the same time that it would have described the side c a, by the first motion, or the side, c d, by the second. To understand the demonstration of this corollary, we must premise this obvious principle, that when a body is acted upon by a motion of power parallel to a right line given in position, this power, or motion, has no effect to cause the body to approach towards that line, or recede from it, but to move in a line parallel to a right line only; as appears from the second law of motion: therefore c a being parallel to d b—”
The governor, encouraged by this show of honesty, expressed his satisfaction in finding him so open to persuasion, and told him he would proceed using mathematical principles. Then, after clearing his throat three times, he pointed out that no mathematical inquiries could be conducted without certain data or obvious truths that were self-evident; therefore, he needed his agreement on a few axioms, which he was sure Mr. Pickle would have no reason to dispute. “First of all,” he said, “I hope you’ll agree that youth and discretion are like two parallel lines that, even if extended infinitely, remain equidistant and will never meet. Next, you must agree that passion affects the human mind based on the sharpness of the senses and inherent intensity. Thirdly, you cannot deny that the angle of remorse is equal to the angle of haste. With these premises accepted,” he continued, taking pen, ink, and paper, and drawing a parallelogram, “let youth be represented by the line a b, and discretion by another line, c d, parallel to the first. Complete the parallelogram, a b c d, and let the intersection point, b, represent downfall. Let passion, represented by the letter c, move in the direction of c a. Simultaneously, if another movement is applied to it in the direction of c d, it will travel along the diagonal c b, covering the same distance in the time it would have taken to cover the side c a with the first movement or the side c d with the second. To understand the explanation of this conclusion, we must establish this clear principle: when a body is subjected to a force moving parallel to a given line, this force has no effect on moving the body closer to or farther from that line, but only makes it move along a line parallel to the given line, as stated by the second law of motion. Therefore, c a being parallel to d b—”
His pupil having listened to him thus far, could contain himself no longer, but interrupted the investigation with a loud laugh, and told him that his postulata put him in mind of a certain learned and ingenious gentleman, who undertook to disprove the existence of natural evil, and asked no other datum on which to found his demonstration, but an acknowledgment that “everything that is, is right.” “You may therefore,” said he, in a peremptory tone, “spare yourself the trouble of torturing your invention; for, after all, I am pretty certain that I shall want capacity to comprehend the discussion of your lemma, and consequently be obliged to all the pangs of an ingenuous mind that I refuse my assent to your deduction.”
His student, having listened up to this point, couldn’t hold back any longer and interrupted the discussion with a loud laugh, telling him that his arguments reminded him of a certain learned and clever man who tried to disprove the existence of natural evil. This man asked for no other basis for his argument than the belief that “everything that exists is right.” “So,” he said in a commanding tone, “you can spare yourself the trouble of stretching your imagination; because, in the end, I’m pretty sure I won’t have the ability to understand the details of your premise, and I’ll inevitably feel the frustration of a thoughtful mind refusing to agree with your conclusion.”
Mr. Jolter was disconcerted at this declaration, and so much offended at Peregrine's disrespect, that he could not help expressing his displeasure, by telling him flatly, that he was too violent and headstrong to be reclaimed by reason and gentle means; that he (the tutor) must be obliged, in the discharge of his duty and conscience, to inform the commodore of his pupil's imprudence; that if the laws of this realm were effectual, they would take cognizance of the gipsy who had led him astray; and observed, by way of contrast, that if such a preposterous intrigue had happened in France, she would have been clapped up in a convent two years ago. Our lover's eyes kindled with indignation, when he heard his mistress treated with such irreverence: he could scarce refrain from inflicting manual chastisement on the blasphemer, whom he reproached in his wrath as an arrogant pedant, without either delicacy or sense, and cautioned him against rising any such impertinent freedoms with his affairs for the future on pain of incurring more severe effects of his resentment.
Mr. Jolter was taken aback by this statement and felt so offended by Peregrine's disrespect that he couldn't help but show his displeasure. He told him directly that he was too reckless and stubborn to be guided by reason and gentle approaches. He (the tutor) felt it was his duty and responsibility to inform the commodore about his student's foolishness. He remarked that if the laws of this land were effective, they would take notice of the gypsy who had misled him; and he noted, as a comparison, that if such a ridiculous situation had occurred in France, she would have been sent to a convent two years ago. Peregrine's eyes flared with anger upon hearing his mistress spoken about so disrespectfully; he could barely hold himself back from physically punishing the blasphemer, whom he angrily accused of being a pompous know-it-all, lacking both sensitivity and intelligence. He warned him against any further insolence regarding his affairs, threatening that he would face more serious consequences for his disrespect.
Mr. Jolter, who entertained very high notions of that veneration to which he thought himself entitled by his character and qualifications, had not borne, without repining, his want of influence and authority over his pupil, against whom he cherished a particular grudge ever since the adventure of the painted eye; and therefore, on this occasion, his politic forbearance had been overcome by the accumulated motives of his disgust. Indeed, he would have resigned his charge with disdain, had not he been encouraged to persevere, by the hopes of a good living which Trunnion had in his gift, or known how to dispose of himself for the present to better advantage.
Mr. Jolter, who had very high opinions of the respect he believed he deserved because of his character and qualifications, had not tolerated, without grumbling, his lack of influence and authority over his student, against whom he held a particular grudge ever since the incident with the painted eye. Therefore, during this instance, his political patience had been shattered by the buildup of his disgust. In fact, he would have given up his position with contempt if he hadn’t been motivated to stick it out by the hope of a good job that Trunnion could offer him, or if he had known how to secure a better situation for himself in the meantime.
CHAPTER XXV.
He receives a Letter from his Aunt, breaks with the Commodore, and disobliges the Lieutenant, who, nevertheless, undertakes his Cause.
He gets a letter from his aunt, parts ways with the Commodore, and disappoints the Lieutenant, who, despite that, takes on his case.
Meanwhile he quitted the youth in high dudgeon, and that same evening despatched a letter for Mrs. Trunnion, which was dictated by the first transports of his passion, and of course replete with severe animadversions on the misconduct of his pupil. In consequence of this complaint, it was not long before Peregrine received an epistle from his aunt, wherein she commemorated all the circumstances of the commodore's benevolence towards him, when he was helpless and forlorn, deserted and abandoned by his own parents; upbraided him for his misbehaviour, and neglect of his tutor's advice; and insisted upon his breaking off an intercourse with that girl who had seduced his youth, as he valued the continuance of her affection and her husband's regard.
Meanwhile, he left the young man in a huff, and that same evening sent a letter to Mrs. Trunnion, which was written in the heat of his emotions and, of course, full of harsh criticism about his pupil's behavior. As a result of this complaint, it wasn't long before Peregrine received a letter from his aunt, in which she recalled all the ways the commodore had helped him when he was helpless, lost, and abandoned by his own parents; scolded him for his bad behavior and for ignoring his tutor's advice; and insisted that he cut off contact with the girl who had led him astray, as he valued both her affection and her husband's respect.
As our lover's own ideas of generosity were extremely refined, he was shocked at the indelicate insinuations of Mrs. Trunnion, and felt all the pangs of an ingenuous mind that labours under obligations to a person whom it contemns. Far from obeying her injunction, or humbling himself by a submissive answer to her reprehension, his resentment buoyed him up above every selfish consideration: he resolved to attach himself to Emilia, if possible, more than ever; and although he was tempted to punish the officiousness of Jolter, by recriminating upon his life and conversation, he generously withstood the impulse of his passion, because he knew that his governor had no other dependence than the good opinion of the commodore. He could not, however, digest in silence the severe expostulations of his aunt; to which he replied by the following letter, addressed to her husband:—
As our lover's own sense of generosity was very refined, he was shocked by Mrs. Trunnion's rude insinuations, feeling all the pains of a sincere mind struggling with obligations to someone they despises. Instead of following her orders or humbling himself with a submissive response to her criticism, his anger lifted him above any selfish thoughts: he decided to connect with Emilia even more than before. Although he was tempted to punish Jolter's meddling by criticizing his life and behavior, he bravely resisted that urge because he knew his governor relied solely on the commodore's good opinion. He couldn't, however, stay silent about his aunt's harsh reprimands; in response, he wrote the following letter to her husband:—
“Sir,—Though my temper could never stoop to offer nor, I
believe, your disposition deign to receive, that gross incense
which the illiberal only expect, and none but the base-minded
condescend to pay; my sentiments have always done justice to
your generosity, and my intention scrupulously adhered to the
dictates of my duty. Conscious of this integrity of heart, I
cannot but severely feel your lady's unkind (I will not call
it ungenerous) recapitulation of the favours I have received;
and, as I take it for granted that you knew and approved of her
letter, I must beg leave to assure you, that, far from being
swayed by menaces and reproach, I am determined to embrace the
most abject extremity of fortune, rather than submit to such
dishonourable compulsion. When I am treated in a more delicate
and respectful manner, I hope I shall behave as becomes,—Sir,
your obliged
“P. Pickle.”
“Sir,—While my temperament could never lower itself to offer nor, I believe, your nature would ever be humble enough to accept, that blatant flattery which only the ungrateful expect, and only the dishonorable are willing to give; my feelings have always acknowledged your kindness, and my intentions have strictly followed the demands of my duty. Aware of this integrity in my heart, I cannot help but feel deeply hurt by your lady’s unkind (I won’t label it as ungenerous) recounting of the favors I have received; and, assuming you knew and approved of her letter, I must insist that, far from being influenced by threats and insults, I am determined to face the lowest extremes of fortune rather than submit to such disgraceful pressure. When I am treated with more sensitivity and respect, I hope I will respond appropriately,—Sir, your grateful “P. Pickle.”
The commodore, who did not understand those nice distinctions of behaviour, and dreaded the consequence of Peregrine's amour, against which he was strangely prepossessed, seemed exasperated at the insolence and obstinacy of this adopted son; to whose epistle he wrote the following answer, which was transmitted by the hands of Hatchway, who had orders to bring the delinquent along with him to the garrison:—
The commodore, who didn’t get those subtle differences in behavior and was worried about the potential fallout from Peregrine’s romance, which he had a strange bias against, appeared to be irritated by the defiance and stubbornness of this adopted son. To his letter, he wrote the following response, which was delivered by Hatchway, who had been instructed to bring the wayward son back to the garrison:—
“Hark ye, child,—You need not bring your fine speeches to bear
upon me: you only expend your ammunition to no purpose. Your
aunt told you nothing but truth; for it is always fair and
honest to be above-board, d'ye see. I am informed as how you
are in chase of a painted galley, which will decoy you upon the
flats of destruction, unless you keep a better look-out and a
surer reckoning than you have hitherto done; and I have sent
Jack Hatchway to see how the land lies, and warn you of your
danger: if so be as you will put about ship, and let him steer
you into this harbour, you shall meet with a safe berth and
friendly reception; but if you refuse to alter your course you
cannot expect any farther assistance from yours as you behave,
“Hawser Trunnion.”
“Listen up, kid—You don’t need to throw your fancy words at me: you’re just wasting your breath. Your aunt was telling you the truth; it’s always fair and honest to be straightforward, you know? I’ve heard you’re chasing after a flashy ship that will lead you into dangerous waters, unless you start paying better attention and keeping a better course than you have so far. I’ve sent Jack Hatchway to check things out and warn you about the danger. If you decide to change your direction and let him guide you into this harbor, you’ll find a safe place and a warm welcome; but if you refuse to change course, don’t expect any more help from me based on how you act, “Hawser Trunnion.”
Peregrine was equally piqued and disconcerted at the receipt of this letter, which was quite different from what he had expected; and declared in a resolute tone to the lieutenant, who brought it, that he might return as soon as he pleased, for he was determined to consult his own inclination, and remain for some time longer where he was.
Peregrine was both irritated and unsettled by the arrival of this letter, which was completely different from what he had anticipated. He told the lieutenant who delivered it in a firm voice that he could head back whenever he wanted, as he was set on following his own desires and staying where he was for a while longer.
Hatchway endeavoured to persuade him, by all the arguments which his sagacity and friendship could supply, to show a little more deference for the old man, who was by this time rendered fretful and peevish by the gout, which now hindered him from enjoying himself as usual, who might, in his passion, take some step very much to the detriment of the young gentleman, whom he had hitherto considered as his own son. Among other remonstrances, Jack observed that mayhap Peregrine had got under Emilia's hatches, and did not choose to set her adrift; and that if that was the case, he himself would take charge of the vessel, and see her cargo safely delivered; for he had a respect for the young woman, and his needle pointed towards matrimony; and as, in all probability, she could not be much the worse for the wear, he would make shift to scud through life with her under an easy sail.
Hatchway tried to convince him, using all the reasoning and friendship he could muster, to show a little more respect for the old man, who by now had become irritable and cranky due to the gout, which prevented him from enjoying himself as he normally would. The old man might, out of anger, take a step that could seriously harm the young gentleman, whom he had always regarded as his own son. Among other arguments, Jack pointed out that perhaps Peregrine had gotten involved with Emilia and didn’t want to let her go; if that were the case, he would gladly take charge of the situation and make sure she came through it okay, since he had feelings for her and was considering marriage. And, since she likely wouldn’t be too damaged by the experience, he was willing to navigate through life with her under a favorable arrangement.
Our lover was deaf to all his admonitions, and, having thanked him for this last instance of his complaisance, repeated his resolution of adhering to his first purpose. Hatchway, having profited so little by mild exhortations: assumed a more peremptory aspect, and plainly told him that he neither could nor would go home without him; so he had best make immediate preparation for the voyage.
Our lover ignored all his warnings and, after thanking him for his last act of kindness, restated his determination to stick to his original plan. Hatchway, seeing that gentle encouragement had little effect, took on a firmer tone and clearly told him that he couldn’t and wouldn’t go home without him; so he should start getting ready for the trip right away.
Peregrine made no other reply to this declaration than by a contemptuous smile, and rose from his seat in order to retire; upon which the lieutenant started up, and, posting himself by the door, protested, with some menacing gestures, that he would not suffer him to run a-head neither. The other, incensed at his presumption in attempting to detain him by force, tripped up his wooden leg, and laid him on his back in a moment; then walked deliberately towards the park, in order to indulge his reflection, which at that time teemed with disagreeable thoughts. He had not proceeded two hundred steps when he heard something blowing and stamping behind him; and, looking back, perceived the lieutenant at his heels, with rage and indignation in his countenance. This exasperated seaman, impatient of the affront he had received, and forgetting all the circumstances of their former intimacy, advanced with great eagerness to his old friend, saying, “Look ye, brother, you're a saucy boy, and if you was at sea, I would have your backside brought to the davit for your disobedience; but as we are on shore, you and I must crack a pistol at one another: here is a brace; you shall take which you please.”
Peregrine didn’t respond to this declaration other than with a disdainful smile and stood up to leave. The lieutenant immediately jumped up, positioned himself by the door, and insisted with some threatening gestures that he wouldn’t let him get away either. Infuriated by his presumption to detain him forcefully, Peregrine tripped him over his wooden leg, sending him to the ground in an instant. He then walked calmly towards the park to ponder his thoughts, which were filled with unpleasant reflections at that moment. He had barely walked two hundred steps when he heard something blowing and stomping behind him; looking back, he saw the lieutenant right on his tail, his face twisted with rage and indignation. This furious sailor, irritated by the insult he had received and forgetting their previous friendship, rushed towards his old friend, saying, “Listen, buddy, you’re a cheeky one, and if we were at sea, I’d have you hauled to the davit for your disobedience; but since we’re on land, we’ll have to shoot it out: here are two pistols; you can pick which one you want.”
Peregrine, upon recollection, was sorry for having been laid under the necessity of disobliging honest Jack, and very frankly asked his pardon for what he had done. But this condescension was misinterpreted by the other, who refused any other satisfaction but that which an officer ought to claim; and, with some irreverent expressions, asked if Perry was afraid of his bacon? The youth, inflamed at this unjust insinuation, darted a ferocious look at the challenger, told him he had paid but too much regard to his infirmities, and bid him walk forward to the park, where he would soon convince him of his error, if he thought his concession proceeded from fear.
Peregrine, reflecting on the situation, felt bad for having to upset honest Jack and openly asked for his forgiveness for what he had done. However, the other person misunderstood this gesture and insisted on receiving the kind of satisfaction that an officer should demand; he also rudely asked if Perry was scared to defend himself. The young man, angered by this unfair accusation, shot a fierce glance at his challenger, told him he had been too considerate of his weaknesses, and challenged him to walk to the park, where he would quickly prove him wrong if he thought his apology came from fear.
About this time, they were overtaken by Pipes, who, having heard the lieutenant's fall and seen him pocket his pistols, suspected there was a quarrel in the case, and followed him with a view of protecting his master. Peregrine, seeing him arrive, and guessing his intention, assumed an air of serenity; and pretending that he had left his handkerchief at the inn, ordered his man to go thither and fetch it to him in the park, where he would find them at his return. This command was twice repeated before Tom would take any other notice of the message, except by shaking his head; but being urged with many threats and curses to obedience, he gave them to understand that he knew their drift too well to trust them by themselves. “As for you, Lieutenant Hatchway,” said he, “I have been your shipmate, and know you to be a sailor, that's enough; and as for master, I know him to be as good a man as ever stept betwixt stem and stern, whereby, if you have anything to say to him, I am your man, as the saying is. Here's my sapling, and I don't value your crackers of a rope's end.” This oration, the longest that ever Pipes was known to make, he concluded with a flourish of his cudgel, and enforced with such determined refusals to leave them, that they found it impossible to bring the cause to mortal arbitrement at that time, and strolled about the park in profound silence; during which, Hatchway's indignation subsiding, he, all of a sudden, thrust out his hand as an advance to reconciliation, which being cordially shaken by Peregrine, a general pacification ensued; and was followed by a consultation about the means of extricating the youth from his present perplexity. Had his disposition been like that of most other young men, it would have been no difficult task to overcome his difficulties; but such was the obstinacy of his pride, that he deemed himself bound in honour to resent the letters he had received; and instead of submitting to the pleasure of the commodore, expected an acknowledgment from him, without which he would listen to no terms of accommodation. “Had I been his own son,” said he, “I should have borne his reproof, and sued for forgiveness; but knowing myself to be on the footing of an orphan, who depends entirely upon his benevolence, I am jealous of everything that can be construed into disrespect, and insist upon being treated with the most punctual regard. I shall now make application to my father, who is obliged to provide for me by the ties of nature, as well as the laws of the land; and if he shall refuse to do me justice, I can never want employment while men are required for his Majesty's service.”
Around this time, they were joined by Pipes, who, having heard about the lieutenant’s fall and seeing him stash his pistols, suspected there was a conflict going on and followed him to protect his boss. Peregrine, noticing his arrival and guessing what he was up to, put on a calm demeanor; and pretending he had left his handkerchief at the inn, he ordered his servant to go and fetch it for him in the park, where they would meet upon his return. This request was repeated twice before Tom would acknowledge the message in any way other than shaking his head; but after being pressured with numerous threats and curses to cooperate, he made it clear that he was too aware of their intentions to leave them alone. “As for you, Lieutenant Hatchway,” he said, “I’ve been your shipmate and know you’re a sailor, that’s enough; and as for my master, I know him to be one of the best men to ever step between bow and stern, so if you have something to say to him, I’ll handle it, as the saying goes. Here’s my stick, and I’m not afraid of your threats.” This speech, the longest Pipes had ever given, ended with a flourish of his club, and with such adamant refusals to leave that they found it impossible to settle things right then, instead wandering around the park in deep silence. During this time, Hatchway’s anger softened, and suddenly he extended his hand in a gesture of reconciliation. When Peregrine shook it warmly, a general peace broke out; this was followed by a discussion about how to help the young man out of his current predicament. If his attitude had been like most young men, it wouldn’t have been hard to sort out his issues; but his pride was so stubborn that he felt obliged to retaliate against the letters he had received. Instead of submitting to the commodore’s will, he expected an acknowledgment from him, without which he wouldn’t consider any terms for reconciliation. “If I had been his own son,” he said, “I would have accepted his reprimand and sought forgiveness; but knowing myself to be in the position of an orphan who relies entirely on his goodwill, I’m sensitive to anything that could be seen as disrespect, and I insist on being treated with complete regard. I will now reach out to my father, who is obliged to take care of me by the ties of nature and the laws of the land; and if he refuses to do me justice, I’ll never lack work as long as there’s a need for men in his Majesty’s service.”
The lieutenant, alarmed at this intimation, begged he would take no new step until he should hear from him; and that very evening set out for the garrison, where he gave Trunnion an account of the miscarriage of his negotiation, told him how highly Peregrine was offended at the letter, communicated the young gentleman's sentiments and resolution, and finally assured him that unless he should think proper to ask pardon for the offence he had committed, he would, in all appearance, never more behold the face of his godson.
The lieutenant, startled by this hint, urged him not to take any new actions until he heard from him. That very evening, he headed to the garrison, where he informed Trunnion about the failure of his negotiation, explained how offended Peregrine was by the letter, shared the young man's feelings and decisions, and finally assured him that unless he decided to apologize for the offense he had committed, he would likely never see his godson again.
The old commodore was utterly confounded at this piece of intelligence: he had expected all the humility of obedience and contrition from the young man; and, instead of that, received nothing but the most indignant opposition, and even found himself in the circumstances of an offender, obliged to make atonement, or forfeit all correspondence with his favourite. These insolent conditions at first threw him into an agony of wrath; and he vented execrations with such rapidity that he left himself no time to breathe, and had almost been suffocated with his choler. He inveighed bitterly against the ingratitude of Peregrine, whom he mentioned with many opprobrious epithets, and swore that he ought to be keelhauled for his presumption; but when he began to reflect more coolly upon the spirit of the young gentleman, which had already manifested itself on many occasions, and listened to the suggestions of Hatchway, whom he had always considered as an oracle in his way, his resentment abated, and he determined to take Perry into favour again; this placability being not a little facilitated by Jack's narrative of our hero's intrepid behaviour at the assembly, as well as the contest with him in the park. But still this plaguy amour occurred like a bugbear to his imagination; for he held it as an infallible maxim, that woman was an eternal source of misery to man. Indeed, this apophthegm he seldom repeated since his marriage, except in the company of a very few intimates, to whose secrecy and discretion he could trust. Finding Jack himself at a nonplus in the affair of Emilia, he consulted Mrs. Trunnion, who was equally surprised and offended when she understood that her letter did not produce the desired effect; and after having imputed the youth's obstinacy to his uncle's unseasonable indulgence, had recourse to the advice of the parson, who, still with an eye to his friend's advantage, counselled them to send the young gentleman on his travels, in the course of which he would, in all probability, forget the amusements of his greener years. The proposal was judicious, and immediately approved; when Trunnion, going into his closet, after divers efforts, produced the following billet, with which Jack departed for Windsor that same afternoon:—
The old commodore was completely baffled by this news: he had expected nothing but obedience and regret from the young man, but instead, he faced nothing but fierce opposition and even found himself in the position of an offender, required to make amends or lose all contact with his favorite. These rude demands initially filled him with rage, and he cursed so quickly that he barely had time to breathe, nearly choking on his anger. He bitterly complained about Peregrine's ingratitude, using many harsh names, and swore he deserved to be punished for his audacity; however, as he began to think more calmly about the young man’s character, which had already shown itself on several occasions, and listened to Hatchway’s advice, whom he always viewed as wise, his anger cooled, and he decided to take Perry back into favor. This change of heart was also helped by Jack's account of their hero's brave conduct at the gathering, as well as the confrontation in the park. Still, the troublesome love affair haunted his mind, as he believed firmly that women were an endless source of misery for men. In fact, he rarely mentioned this saying since his marriage, except in front of a select few friends whom he trusted to keep it private. When he found Jack himself stuck regarding Emilia, he consulted Mrs. Trunnion, who was equally shocked and offended to learn that her letter hadn’t had the intended effect. After blaming the young man's stubbornness on his uncle's ill-timed leniency, she turned to the parson for advice, who, still looking out for his friend's best interest, suggested they send the young man traveling, as he would likely forget the distractions of his youthful days. The suggestion was sensible and was quickly approved; then Trunnion went into his study and, after some effort, produced the following note, with which Jack set off for Windsor that very afternoon:—
“My good lad,—If I gave offence in my last letter I'm sorry
for't, d'ye see: I thought it was the likeliest way to bring
you up; but, in time to come, you shall have a larger swing
of cable. When you can spare time, I should be glad if you will
make a short trip and see your aunt, and him who is—Your
loving godfather and humble servant,
“Hawser Trunnion.
P.S. If you want money, you may draw upon me payable at sight.”
“My good friend,—If I offended you in my last letter, I'm sorry about that. I thought it was the best way to guide you; but in the future, you’ll have more freedom. When you have some time, I would appreciate it if you could make a short trip to see your aunt and your loving godfather,
Your loving godfather and humble servant,
“Hawser Trunnion.
P.S. If you need money, you can get it from me whenever you want.”CHAPTER XXVI.
He becomes Melancholy and Despondent—Is favoured with the condescending Letter from his Uncle—Reconciles himself to his Governor, and sets out with Emilia and her Friend for Mrs. Gauntlet's House.
He becomes sad and depressed—Receives a patronizing letter from his uncle—Makes peace with his guardian, and leaves with Emilia and her friend for Mrs. Gauntlet's house.
Peregrine, fortified as he was with pride and indignation, did not fail to feel the smarting suggestions of his present situation: after having lived so long in an affluent and imperious manner, he could ill brook the thoughts of submitting to the mortifying exigencies of life. All the gaudy schemes of pomp and pleasure, which his luxuriant imagination had formed, began to dissolve; a train of melancholy ideas took possession of his thoughts; and the prospect of losing Emilia was not the least part of his affliction. Though he endeavoured to suppress the chagrin that preyed upon his heart, he could not conceal the disturbance of his mind from the penetration of that amiable young lady, who sympathized with him in her heart, though she could not give her tongue the liberty of asking the cause of his disorder; for, notwithstanding all the ardour of his addresses, he never could obtain from her the declaration of a mutual flame; because, though he had hitherto treated her with the utmost reverence of respect, he had never once mentioned the final aim of his passion. However honourable she supposed it to be, she had discernment enough to foresee that vanity or interest, co-operating with the levity of youth, might one day deprive her of her lover, and she was too proud to give him any handle of exulting at her expense. Although he was received by her with the most distinguished civility, and even an intimacy of friendship, all his solicitations could never extort from her an acknowledgment of love: on the contrary, being of a gay disposition, she sometimes coquetted with other admirers, that his attention thus whetted might never abate, and that he might see she had other resources in case he should flag in his affection.
Peregrine, filled with pride and anger, couldn’t ignore the painful reality of his situation: after living so lavishly for so long, he struggled to accept the humiliating demands of life. All the flashy plans for luxury and pleasure that his vivid imagination had created began to fade away; a wave of sorrowful thoughts took over his mind, and the thought of losing Emilia added to his pain. Even though he tried to hide the sadness gnawing at his heart, he couldn’t mask his troubled mind from the keen perception of that lovely young lady, who felt for him deeply but couldn’t bring herself to ask what was bothering him. Despite all his passionate advances, he had never been able to get her to admit they shared a love, because although he had treated her with the utmost respect, he had never actually mentioned the ultimate goal of his feelings. No matter how honorable he thought it was, she was perceptive enough to realize that vanity or self-interest, combined with youthful foolishness, could one day take him away from her, and she was too proud to give him a reason to gloat at her expense. Even though she welcomed him with great courtesy and a closeness of friendship, he could never wring a confession of love from her; on the contrary, being of a cheerful nature, she sometimes flirted with other admirers to keep him on his toes, ensuring he knew she had other options if he ever lost interest.
This being the prudential plan on which she acted, it cannot be supposed that she would condescend to inquire into the state of his thoughts when she saw him thus affected; but she, nevertheless, imposed that task on her cousin and confidant, who, as they walked together in the park observed that he seemed to be out of humour. When this is the case, such a question generally increases the disease; at least it had that effect upon Peregrine, who replied somewhat peevishly, “I assure you, madam, you never were more mistaken in your observations.”—“I think so, too,” said Emilia, “for I never saw Mr. Pickle in higher spirits.” This ironical encomium completed his confusion: he affected to smile, but it was a smile of anguish, and in his heart he cursed the vivacity of both. He could not for his soul recollect himself so as to utter one connected sentence; and the suspicion that they observed every circumstance of his behaviour, threw such a damp on his spirits that he was quite overwhelmed with shame and resentment, when Sophy, casting her eyes towards the gate, said, “Yonder is your servant, Mr. Pickle, with another man who seems to have a wooden leg.” Peregrine started at this intelligence, and immediately underwent sundry changes of complexion, knowing that his fate, in a great measure, depended upon the information he would receive from his friend.
This was the careful plan she followed, so it’s not surprising that she wouldn’t think to ask about his feelings when she saw him looking that way; however, she did ask her cousin and confidant to take on that task. As they walked together in the park, they noticed he seemed upset. Usually, asking about it just makes things worse, and it certainly did for Peregrine, who responded a bit crankily, “I assure you, madam, you couldn’t be more wrong in your observations.” “I think so too,” Emilia replied, “because I’ve never seen Mr. Pickle in better spirits.” This sarcastic compliment only added to his confusion; he tried to smile, but it was a painful smile, and he secretly cursed their energy. He couldn’t even collect his thoughts enough to say a coherent sentence, and the feeling that they were noticing every little thing he did made him feel completely ashamed and angry. Then Sophy glanced toward the gate and said, “There’s your servant, Mr. Pickle, with another man who looks like he has a wooden leg.” Peregrine jumped at this news and immediately went through several changes in his expression, knowing that a lot depended on the information he would get from his friend.
Hatchway, advancing to the company, after a brace of sea bows to the ladies, took the youth aside, and put the commodore's letter into his hand, which threw him into such an agitation that he could scarce pronounce, “Ladies, will you give me leave?” When, in consequence of their permission, he attempted to open the billet, he fumbled with such manifest disorder, that his mistress, who watched his motions, began to think that there was something very interesting in the message; and so much was she affected with his concern, that she was fain to turn her head another way, and wipe the tears from her lovely eyes.
Hatchway walked up to the group, after a couple of polite bows to the ladies, pulled the young man aside, and handed him the commodore's letter. This threw him into such a panic that he could barely say, “Ladies, may I?” When, after their approval, he tried to open the note, he fumbled so badly that his love, who was watching him closely, began to think there was something very important in the message. She was so moved by his distress that she had to turn her head away and wipe the tears from her beautiful eyes.
Meanwhile, Peregrine no sooner read the first sentence than his countenance, which before was overcast with a deep gloom, began to be lighted up, and every feature unbending by degrees, he recovered his serenity. Having perused the letter, his eyes sparkling with joy and gratitude, he hugged the lieutenant in his arms, and presented him to the ladies as one of his best friends. Jack met with a most gracious reception, and shook Emilia by the hand, telling her, with the familiar appellation of “old acquaintance” that he did not care how soon he was master of such another clean-going frigate as herself. The whole company partook of this favourable change that evidently appeared in our lover's recollection, and enlivened his conversation with such an uncommon flow of sprightliness and good humour, as even made an impression on the iron countenance of Pipes himself, who actually smiled with satisfaction as he walked behind them.
Meanwhile, as soon as Peregrine read the first sentence, his face, which had been clouded with deep gloom, began to brighten up, and gradually relaxing every feature, he regained his calm. After reading the letter, his eyes sparkling with joy and gratitude, he hugged the lieutenant and introduced him to the ladies as one of his best friends. Jack received a warm welcome and shook hands with Emilia, calling her “old acquaintance,” and said he couldn't wait to be the captain of another well-running frigate like her. The whole group shared in the positive change that was clearly seen in our lover's mood and filled his conversation with an unusual liveliness and good humor, even making an impression on the stern face of Pipes himself, who actually smiled with satisfaction as he walked behind them.
The evening being pretty far advanced, they directed their course homeward; and while the valet attended Hatchway to the inn, Peregrine escorted the ladies to their lodgings, where he owned the justness of Sophy's remark in saying he was out of humour, and told them he had been extremely chagrined at a difference which had happened between him and his uncle, to whom, by the letter which they had seen him receive, he now found himself happily reconciled.
The evening had gotten quite late, so they headed home. While the valet took Hatchway to the inn, Peregrine walked the ladies back to their lodgings, where he admitted that Sophy was right about him being in a bad mood. He explained that he had been really upset about a disagreement with his uncle, but now, thanks to the letter they saw him receive, he was happy to say they were back on good terms.
Having received their congratulations, and declined staying to sup with them, on account of the longing desire he had to converse with his friend Jack, he took his leave, and repaired to the inn, where Hatchway informed him of everything that had happened in the garrison upon his presentations. Far from being disgusted, he was perfectly well pleased with the prospect of going abroad, which flattered his vanity and ambition, gratified his thirst after knowledge, and indulged that turn for observation, for which he had been remarkable from his most tender years. Neither did he believe a short absence would tend to the prejudice of his love, but, on the contrary, enhance the value of his heart, because he should return better accomplished, consequently, a more welcome offering to his mistress. Elevated with these sentiments, his heart dilated with joy; and the sluices of his natural benevolence being opened by this happy turn of his affairs, he sent his compliment to Mr. Jolter, to whom he had not spoken during a whole week, and desired he would favour Mr. Hatchway and him with his company at supper.
After receiving their congratulations and declining their invitation to dinner because he was eager to talk to his friend Jack, he said his goodbyes and headed to the inn, where Hatchway updated him on everything that happened in the garrison during his absence. Instead of being put off, he was genuinely pleased about the prospect of going abroad, which boosted his ego and ambition, satisfied his desire for knowledge, and indulged his natural curiosity, which he had shown since childhood. He also didn’t think a short trip would harm his relationship; in fact, he believed it would make him more valuable to his love because he would return with greater skills and be a more appealing partner. Feeling uplifted by these thoughts, his heart swelled with happiness, and with his natural kindness stirred by this positive turn of events, he sent his regards to Mr. Jolter, whom he hadn’t spoken to in a week, and asked if he would join Mr. Hatchway and him for supper.
The governor was not weak enough to decline this invitation; in consequence of which he forthwith appeared, and was cordially welcomed by the relenting pupil, who expressed his sorrow for the misunderstanding which had prevailed between them, and assured him that for the future he would avoid giving him any just cause of complaint. Jolter, who did not want affections, was melted by this acknowledgment, which he could not have expected; and earnestly protested, that his chief study had always been, and ever should be, to promote Mr. Pickle's interest and happiness.
The governor wasn’t too weak to turn down this invitation; as a result, he showed up right away and was warmly greeted by the forgiving student, who expressed his regret for the misunderstanding that had occurred between them and promised that in the future he would avoid giving him any reason to complain. Jolter, who didn’t seek affection, was moved by this acknowledgment, which he hadn’t anticipated; and he sincerely insisted that his main focus had always been, and would continue to be, to support Mr. Pickle’s interests and happiness.
The best part of the night being spent in the circulation of a cheerful glass, the company broke up; and next morning Peregrine went out with a view of making his mistress acquainted with his uncle's intention of sending him out of the kingdom for his improvement, and of saying everything which he thought necessary for the interest of his love. He found her at breakfast with her cousin; and, as he was very full of the subject of his visit, had scarce fixed himself in his seat, when he brought it upon the carpet, by asking, with a smile, if the ladies had any commands for Paris? Emilia at this question began to stare, and her confidant desired to know who was going thither? He no sooner gave to understand that he himself intended in a short time to visit that capital, than his mistress with great precipitation wished him a good journey, and affected to talk with indifference the pleasures he would enjoy in France; but when he seriously assured Sophy, who asked if he was in earnest, and his uncle actually insisted upon his making a short tour, the tears gushed in poor Emilia's eyes, and she was at great pains to conceal her concern, by observing that the tea was so scalding hot, as to make her eyes water. This pretext was too thin to impose upon her lover, or even deceive the observation of her friend Sophy, who, after breakfast, took an opportunity of quitting the room.
The best part of the night was spent enjoying good drinks, and the group eventually dispersed. The next morning, Peregrine set out to tell his girlfriend about his uncle's plan to send him abroad for his own development, and to say everything he thought would be important for their relationship. He found her having breakfast with her cousin, and since he was eager to discuss why he was there, he barely settled into his seat before he brought it up. With a smile, he asked if the ladies had any requests for Paris. At this, Emilia stared in surprise, and her friend wanted to know who was going there. As soon as he indicated that he himself planned to visit that city soon, his girlfriend quickly wished him a good trip and pretended to discuss the fun he would have in France casually. However, when he seriously assured Sophy, who asked if he was serious, and mentioned that his uncle was insisting he take a short tour, tears welled up in poor Emilia’s eyes, and she struggled to hide her distress by pointing out that the tea was so hot it was making her eyes water. This excuse was too weak to fool her boyfriend or even escape the notice of her friend Sophy, who found a moment after breakfast to leave the room.
Thus left by themselves, Peregrine imparted to her what he had learnt of the commodore's intention, without, however, mentioning a syllable of his being offended at their correspondence; and accompanied his information with such fervent vows of eternal constancy and solemn promises of a speedy return, that Emily's heart, which had been invaded by a suspicion that this scheme of travelling was an effect of her lover's inconstancy, began to be more at ease; and she could not help signifying her approbation of his design.
Thus left alone, Peregrine shared with her what he had learned about the commodore's plans, without mentioning a word about being upset over their correspondence. He backed up his information with passionate vows of everlasting loyalty and serious promises of a quick return, easing Emily's heart, which had been troubled by the suspicion that this travel plan was a sign of her lover's unfaithfulness. She couldn’t help but express her support for his plan.
This affair being amicably compromised, he asked how soon she proposed to set out for her mother's house; and understanding that her departure was fixed for next day but one, and that her Cousin Sophy intended to accompany her in her father's chariot, he repeated his intention of attending her. In the mean time he dismissed the governor and the lieutenant to the garrison, with his compliments to his aunt and the commodore, and a faithful promise of his being with them in six days at farthest. These previous measures being taken, he, attended by Pipes, set out with the ladies; and they had also a convoy for twelve miles from Sophy's father, who, at parting, recommended them piously to the care of Peregrine, with whom by this time, he was perfectly well acquainted.
This situation being resolved peacefully, he asked when she planned to leave for her mother’s house; and upon finding out that she would be leaving the day after tomorrow, and that her cousin Sophy would be joining her in her father's carriage, he reiterated his intention to go with her. In the meantime, he sent off the governor and the lieutenant to the garrison, with his regards to his aunt and the commodore, along with a sincere promise to join them in no more than six days. With these arrangements in place, he, accompanied by Pipes, set off with the ladies; they also had an escort for twelve miles from Sophy’s father, who, when they parted, entrusted them to Peregrine’s care, with whom he was now quite familiar.
CHAPTER XXVII.
They meet with a dreadful Alarm on the Road—Arrive at their Journey's end—Peregrine is introduced to Emily's Brother—These two young Gentlemen misunderstand each other—Pickle departs for the Garrison.
They encounter a terrible shock on the road—arrive at their destination—Peregrine is introduced to Emily's brother—these two young men misunderstand each other—Pickle leaves for the garrison.
As they travelled at an easy rate, they had performed something more than one half of their journey, when they were benighted near an inn, at which they resolved to lodge; the accommodation was very good, they supped together with great mirth and enjoyment, and it was not till after he had been warned by the yawns of the ladies, that he conducted them to their apartment; where, wishing them good night, he retired to his own, and went to rest. The house was crowded with country-people who had been at a neighbouring fair, and now regaled themselves with ale and tobacco in the yard; so that their consideration, which at any time was but slender, being now overwhelmed by this debauch, they staggered into their respective kennels, and left a lighted candle sticking to one of the wooden pillars that supported the gallery. The flame in a little time laid hold on the wood, which was as dry as tinder; and the whole gallery was on fire, when Peregrine suddenly waked, and found himself almost suffocated. He sprang up in an instant, slipped on his breeches, and, throwing open the door of his chamber, saw the whole entry in a blaze.
As they traveled at a relaxed pace, they had completed more than half of their journey when night fell near an inn, where they decided to stay. The accommodations were very nice, and they had dinner together with a lot of laughter and enjoyment. It wasn't until he noticed the ladies yawning that he led them to their room. After wishing them good night, he went to his own and went to sleep. The inn was filled with locals who had been at a nearby fair, and they were enjoying ale and tobacco in the yard. Their behavior, which was usually quite mild, was now overshadowed by this revelry, and they stumbled back to their quarters, leaving a lit candle stuck to one of the wooden pillars holding up the gallery. Soon, the flames caught the wood, which was as dry as kindling, and the whole gallery was on fire when Peregrine suddenly woke up and found himself nearly suffocating. He sprang up immediately, slipped on his pants, and threw open the door of his room, only to see the entire hallway ablaze.
Heavens! what were the emotions of his soul, when he beheld the volumes of flame and smoke rolling towards the room where his dear Emilia lay! Regardless of his own danger, he darted himself through the thickest of the gloom, when knocking hard, and calling at the same time to the ladies, with the most anxious entreaty to be admitted, the door was opened by Emilia in her shift, who asked, with the utmost trepidation, what was the matter? He made no reply, but snatching her up in his arms, like another Aeneas, bore her through the flames to a place of safety; where leaving her before she could recollect herself, or pronounce one word, but “Alas; my Cousin Sophy!” he flew back to the rescue of that young lady, and found her already delivered by Pipes, who having been alarmed by the smell of fire, had got up, rushed immediately to the chamber where he knew these companions lodged, and Emily being saved by her lover brought off Miss Sophy with the loss of his own shock-head of hair, which was singed off in his retreat.
Wow! What were the feelings in his heart when he saw the flames and smoke rolling toward the room where his beloved Emilia lay? Ignoring his own danger, he pushed through the thick darkness, knocking hard and anxiously calling out to the ladies to let him in. The door was opened by Emilia, who, in her nightgown, asked with great fear what was going on. He didn’t answer but scooped her up in his arms like another Aeneas and carried her through the flames to safety. Before she could gather her thoughts or say anything more than “Oh no; my Cousin Sophy!” he ran back to save that young lady. He found her already rescued by Pipes, who had been alerted by the smell of smoke. Pipes had quickly rushed to the room where he knew they were staying, and with Emilia safe in her lover's arms, he brought Miss Sophy out at the cost of his own messy hair, which was singed during his escape.
By this time the whole inn was alarmed; every lodger, as well as servant, exerted himself, in order to stop the progress of this calamity: and there being a well-replenished horse-pond in the yard, in less than an hour the fire was totally extinguished, without having done any other damage than that of consuming about two yards of the wooden gallery.
By this point, the entire inn was in a panic; every guest and staff member was doing their best to stop this disaster. Thankfully, there was a well-stocked horse pond in the yard, and within less than an hour, the fire was completely put out, causing no other damage besides burning about two yards of the wooden walkway.
All this time our young gentleman closely attended his fair charge, each of whom had swooned with apprehension; but as their constitutions were good, and their spirits not easily dissipated, when upon reflection they found themselves and their company safe, and that the flames were happily quenched, the tumult of their fears subsided, they put on their clothes, recovered their good humour, and began to rally each other on the trim in which they had been secured. Sophy observed that now Mr. Pickle had an indisputable claim to her cousin's affection; and therefore she ought to lay aside all affected reserve for the future, and frankly avow the sentiments of her heart. Emily retorted the argument, putting her in mind, that by the same claim Mr. Pipes was entitled to the like return from her. Her friend admitted the force of the conclusion, provided she could not find means of satisfying his deliverer in another shape; and, turning, to the valet, who happened to be present, asked if his heart was not otherwise engaged. Tom, who did not conceive the meaning of the question, stood silent according to custom; and the interrogation being repeated, answered, with a grin, “Heart-whole as a biscuit, I'll assure you, mistress.”—“What!” said Emilia, “have you never been in love, Thomas?”—“Yes, forsooth,” replied the valet without hesitation, “sometimes of a morning.”
All this time, our young gentleman kept a close eye on his lovely companions, all of whom had fainted from fear; but since they were in good health and not easily discouraged, once they realized they were safe and that the fire was thankfully put out, their panic faded away. They got dressed, regained their good spirits, and started teasing each other about how they had been tied up. Sophy pointed out that now Mr. Pickle had a solid claim on her cousin's affection, so she should drop all pretense and openly express her feelings. Emily countered that by the same logic, Mr. Pipes deserved the same from her. Her friend acknowledged this point but said that only applied if she couldn't find another way to show gratitude to his rescuer. She then turned to the valet, who was nearby, and asked if his heart wasn’t already taken. Tom, who didn't quite get the question, stayed silent as usual. When asked again, he replied with a grin, “Heart-free as a biscuit, I promise you, miss.” — “What!” Emilia exclaimed, “Have you never been in love, Thomas?” — “Oh yes,” the valet replied without missing a beat, “sometimes in the morning.”
Peregrine could not help laughing, and his mistress looked a little disconcerted at this blunt repartee: while Sophy, slipping a purse into his hand, told him there was something to purchase a periwig. Tom, having consulted his master's eyes, refused the present, saying, “No, thank ye as much as if I did;” and though she insisted upon his putting it in his pocket, as a small testimony of her gratitude, he could not be prevailed upon to avail himself of her generosity; but following her to the other end of the room, thrust it into her sleeve without ceremony, exclaiming, “I'll be d—d to hell if I do.” Peregrine, having checked him for his boorish behaviour, sent him out of the room, and begged that Miss Sophy would not endeavour to debauch the morals of his servant, who, rough and uncultivated as he was, had sense enough to perceive that he had no pretension to any such acknowledgment. But she argued, with great vehemence, that she should never be able to make acknowledgment adequate to the service he had done her, and that she should never be perfectly easy in her own mind until she found some opportunity of manifesting the sense she had of the obligation: “I do not pretend,” said she, “to reward Mr. Pipes; but I shall be absolutely unhappy, unless I am allowed to give him some token of my regard.”
Peregrine couldn't help but laugh, and his mistress looked a bit taken aback by his blunt reply. Meanwhile, Sophy slipped a purse into his hand and said there was something to buy a wig. Tom, after looking at his master, refused the gift, saying, “No, thank you as much as if I took it;” and even though she insisted he put it in his pocket as a small token of her gratitude, he wouldn’t accept her generosity. Instead, he followed her to the other side of the room and unceremoniously shoved it into her sleeve, exclaiming, “I’ll be damned if I do.” Peregrine scolded him for his rude behavior, sent him out of the room, and asked Miss Sophy not to try to corrupt his servant, who, rough and unrefined as he was, had enough sense to know he didn’t deserve any such recognition. But she argued passionately that she would never be able to express her gratitude adequately for the service he had provided, and that she wouldn’t feel completely at ease until she found a way to show how much she appreciated it: “I don’t mean,” she said, “to reward Mr. Pipes; but I will be absolutely unhappy unless I can give him some sign of my regard.”
Peregrine, thus earnestly solicited, desired, that since she was bent upon displaying her generosity, she would not bestow upon him any pecuniary gratification, but honour him with some trinket, as a mark of consideration; because he himself had such a particular value for the fellow, on account of his attachment and fidelity, that he should be sorry to see him treated on the footing of a common mercenary domestic. There was not one jewel in the possession of this grateful young lady, that she would not have gladly given as a recompense, or badge of distinction, to her rescuer; but his master pitched upon a seal ring of no great value that hung at her watch, and Pipes, being called in, had permission to accept that testimony of Miss Sophy's favour. Tom received it accordingly with sundry scrapes; and, having kissed it with great devotion, put it on his little finger, and strutted off, extremely proud of his acquisition.
Peregrine, feeling quite earnest, asked her that since she was intent on showing her generosity, she shouldn’t give him any money but instead honor him with some kind of trinket as a sign of appreciation. He valued the fellow so much for his loyalty and dedication that he wouldn’t want to see him treated like an ordinary paid employee. There wasn’t a single piece of jewelry in this grateful young lady's possession that she wouldn’t have gladly given as a reward or sign of distinction to her rescuer; however, her master chose a seal ring of little value that was hanging from her watch, and when Pipes was called in, he was allowed to accept that gesture of Miss Sophy's favor. Tom accepted it with a few bows, kissed it with deep admiration, slipped it onto his little finger, and strutted off, feeling very proud of his new possession.
Emilia, with a most enchanting sweetness of aspect, told her lover that he had instructed her how to behave towards him; and taking a diamond ring from her finger, desired he would wear it for her sake. He received the pledge as became him, and presented another in exchange, which she at first refused, alleging that it would destroy the intent of her acknowledgment; but Peregrine assured her he had accepted her jewel, not as a proof of her gratitude, but as the mark of her love; and that if she refused a mutual token, he should look upon himself as the object of her disdain. Her eyes kindled, and her cheeks glowed with resentment at this impudent intimation, which she considered as an unseasonable insult, and the young gentleman, perceiving her emotion, stood corrected for his temerity, and asked pardon for the liberty of his remonstrance, which he hoped she would ascribe to the prevalence of that principle alone, which he had always taken pride in avowing.
Emilia, with a truly charming sweetness, told her lover that he had taught her how to act towards him; and taking a diamond ring off her finger, asked him to wear it for her. He accepted the token as a gentleman should and offered her another in return, which she initially declined, claiming it would ruin the purpose of her gesture. But Peregrine assured her he took her ring not as proof of her gratitude, but as a symbol of her love; and if she refused a reciprocal gift, he would see it as a sign of her disdain. Her eyes flared, and her cheeks flushed with anger at this bold suggestion, which she viewed as an untimely insult. Noticing her reaction, the young man realized his mistake and apologized for his audacity, hoping she would understand it stemmed solely from a principle he had always proudly upheld.
Sophy, seeing him disconcerted, interposed in his behalf, and chid her cousin for having practised such unnecessary affectation; upon which, Emilia, softened into compliance, held out her finger as a signal of her condescension. Peregrine put on the ring with great eagerness, and mumbled her soft white hand in an ecstasy which would not allow him to confine his embraces to that limb, but urged him to seize her by the waist, and snatch a delicious kiss from her love-pouting lips; nor would he leave her a butt to the ridicule of Sophy, on whose mouth he instantly committed a rape of the same nature: so that the two friends, countenanced by each other, reprehended him with such gentleness of rebuke, that he was almost tempted to repeat the offence.
Sophy, noticing he was uncomfortable, stepped in for him and scolded her cousin for being so unnecessarily dramatic. Emilia, seeing this, softened and held out her finger as a sign of her willingness to comply. Peregrine eagerly put on the ring and clasped her soft white hand in a moment of excitement that made it hard for him to limit his affection to just that. He couldn't help but pull her in by the waist and steal a sweet kiss from her tempting lips. He didn't want to leave her as a target for Sophy's teasing, so he quickly kissed her as well, just like he had with Emilia. The two friends, supporting each other, gently scolded him, so much so that he almost felt encouraged to do it again.
The morning being now lighted up, and the servants of the inn on foot, he ordered some chocolate for breakfast, and at the desire of the ladies, sent Pipes to see the horses fed, and the chariot prepared, while he went to the bar, and discharged the bill.
The morning was now bright, and the inn's staff were on their feet. He ordered some chocolate for breakfast, and at the ladies' request, sent Pipes to get the horses fed and the carriage ready, while he headed to the bar to settle the bill.
These measures being taken, they set out about five o'clock, and having refreshed themselves and their cattle at another inn on the road, proceeded in the afternoon. Without meeting with any other accident, they safely arrived at the place of their destination, where Mrs. Gauntlet expressed her joy at seeing her old friend Mr. Pickle, whom, however, she kindly reproached for the long discontinuance of his regard. Without explaining the cause of that interruption, he protested that his love and esteem had never been discontinued, and that for the future he should omit no occasion of testifying how much he had her friendship at heart. She then made him acquainted with her son, who at that time was in the house, being excused from his duty by furlough.
With these plans in place, they set out around five o'clock. After stopping at another inn to refresh themselves and their animals, they continued their journey in the afternoon. Without encountering any further issues, they arrived safely at their destination, where Mrs. Gauntlet joyfully greeted her old friend Mr. Pickle, although she gently scolded him for not keeping in touch. Without explaining why that happened, he insisted that his feelings and respect had never faded and promised that from now on, he would take every opportunity to show how much he valued her friendship. She then introduced him to her son, who was at home on leave from his duties.
This young man, whose name was Godfrey, was about the age of twenty, of a middling size, vigorous make, remarkably well-shaped, and the scars of the small-pox, of which he bore a good number, added a peculiar manliness to the air of his countenance. His capacity was good, and his disposition naturally frank and easy; but he had been a soldier from his infancy, and his education was altogether in the military style. He looked upon taste and letters as mere pedantry, beneath the consideration of a gentleman, and every civil station of life as mean, when compared with the profession of arms. He had made great progress in the gymnastic sciences of dancing, fencing, and riding; played perfectly well on the German flute; and, above all things valued himself upon a scrupulous observance of all the points of honour.
This young man, named Godfrey, was about twenty years old, of average height, strong build, and strikingly well-formed. The many scars from smallpox gave him a unique manliness in his face. He was intelligent and had a naturally open and easygoing personality, but he had been a soldier since childhood, and his education was entirely military. He viewed art and literature as mere pretentiousness, unworthy of a gentleman's time, and considered any civilian job inferior compared to a military career. He had made significant strides in dance, fencing, and horseback riding; could play the German flute very well; and above all, prided himself on strictly adhering to all codes of honor.
Had Peregrine and he considered themselves upon equal footing, in all probability they would have immediately entered into a league of intimacy and friendship: but this sufficient soldier looked upon his sister's admirer as a young student raw from the university, and utterly ignorant of mankind; while Squire Pickle beheld Godfrey in the light of a needy volunteer, greatly inferior to himself in fortune, as well as every other accomplishment. This mutual misunderstanding could not fail of animosities. The very next day after Peregrine's arrival, some sharp repartees passed between them in presence of the ladies, before whom each endeavoured to assert his own superiority. In these contests our hero never failed of obtaining the victory, because his genius was more acute, and his talents better cultivated, than those of his antagonist, who therefore took umbrage at his success, became jealous of his reputation, and began to treat him with marks of scorn and disrespect.
Had Peregrine and he considered themselves equals, they probably would have quickly formed a close bond and friendship. However, this seasoned soldier viewed his sister's admirer as a naive young student fresh out of university, completely clueless about people, while Squire Pickle saw Godfrey as a desperate volunteer, significantly lacking in wealth and other skills compared to himself. This mutual misunderstanding inevitably led to tensions. The very next day after Peregrine's arrival, some sharp exchanges occurred between them in front of the ladies, where each tried to assert his superiority. In these contests, our hero consistently emerged victorious because his wit was sharper, and his skills were better developed than those of his rival, who then grew annoyed at his success, became envious of his reputation, and started to show him signs of disdain and disrespect.
His sister saw, and, dreading the consequence of his ferocity, not only took him to task in private for his impolite behaviour, but also entreated her lover to make allowances for the roughness of her brother's education. He kindly assured her, that whatever pains it might cost him to vanquish his own impetuous temper, he would, for her sake, endure all the mortifications to which her brother's arrogance might expose him; and, after having stayed with her two days, and enjoyed several private interviews, during which he acted the part of a most passionate lover, he took his leave of Mrs. Gauntlet overnight, and told the young ladies he would call early next morning to bid them farewell. He did not neglect this piece of duty, and found the two friends and breakfast already prepared in the parlour. All three being extremely affected with the thoughts of parting, a most pathetic silence for some time prevailed, till Peregrine put an end to it by lamenting his fate, in being obliged to exile himself so long from the dear object of his most interesting wish. He begged, with the most earnest supplications, that she would now, in consideration of the cruel absence he must suffer, give him the consolation which she had hitherto refused; namely, that of knowing he possessed a place within her heart. The confidante seconded his request, representing that it was now no time to disguise her sentiments, when her lover was about to leave the kingdom, and might be in danger of contracting other connections, unless he was confirmed in his constancy, by knowing how far he could depend upon her love; and, in short, she was plied with such irresistible importunities, that she answered in the utmost confusion, “Though I have avoided literal acknowledgments, methinks the circumstances of my behaviour might have convinced Mr. Pickle that I do not regard him as a common acquaintance.”—“My charming Emily,” cried the impatient lover, throwing himself at her feet, “why will you deal out my happiness in such scanty portions? Why will you thus mince the declaration which would overwhelm me with pleasure, and cheer my lonely reflection, while I sigh amid the solitude of separation?” His fair mistress, melted by this image, replied, with the tears gushing from her eyes, “I'm afraid I shall feel that separation more severely than you imagine.” Transported at this flattering confession, he pressed her to his breast, and while her head reclined upon his neck, mingled his tears with hers in great abundance, breathing the most tender vows of eternal fidelity. The gentle heart of Sophy could not bear this scene unmoved: she wept with sympathy, and encouraged the lovers to resign themselves to the will of fate, and support their spirits with the hope of meeting again on happier terms. Finally, after mutual promises, exhortations, and endearments, Peregrine took his leave, his heart being so full that he could scarce pronounce the word Adieu! and, mounting his horse at the door, set out with Pipes for the garrison.
His sister saw what was happening and, fearing the consequences of his anger, not only confronted him privately about his rude behavior but also begged her boyfriend to be understanding of the rough upbringing her brother had. He kindly assured her that no matter how hard it might be for him to control his own fierce temper, he would tolerate all the humiliations her brother’s arrogance might subject him to, for her sake. After spending two days with her and enjoying several private moments where he acted like a deeply passionate lover, he said goodbye to Mrs. Gauntlet at night and told the young ladies he would come by in the morning to say farewell. He didn’t skip this responsibility and found the two friends and breakfast already laid out in the parlor. All three were very affected by the thought of parting, and a touching silence hung in the air for a while, until Peregrine broke it by expressing his sorrow at having to leave the one he cared about most for such a long time. He earnestly begged her, considering the painful separation ahead, to give him the reassurance she had previously denied: that he held a place in her heart. The confidante supported his plea, arguing that now wasn’t the time to hide her feelings when her lover was about to leave the country and could easily form new attachments unless he was certain of her love. She was so persistently urged that eventually, in a state of utmost embarrassment, she replied, “Though I haven't explicitly acknowledged it, I believe my behavior should have shown Mr. Pickle that I don’t see him as an ordinary acquaintance.” “My lovely Emily,” cried the eager lover, sinking to her feet, “why do you offer my happiness in such tiny pieces? Why do you lessen the declaration that would fill me with joy and comfort my lonely thoughts while I sigh in the solitude of separation?” Moved by his words, his beautiful mistress replied, tears streaming from her eyes, “I’m afraid I’ll feel this separation more intensely than you realize.” Overwhelmed by this heartfelt confession, he held her close, and as her head rested on his shoulder, they mixed their tears together abundantly, exchanging the most tender promises of everlasting fidelity. Sophy's gentle heart couldn’t handle the scene without emotion: she wept in sympathy and encouraged the lovers to accept fate and lift their spirits with the hope of reuniting under happier circumstances. Finally, after they made mutual promises, gave encouragement, and shared affection, Peregrine took his leave, his heart so full that he could hardly say the word Adieu! Climbing onto his horse at the door, he set off with Pipes for the garrison.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Peregrine is overtaken by Mr. Gauntlet, with whom he fights a Duel, and contracts an intimate Friendship—He arrives at the Garrison, and finds his Mother as implacable as ever—He is insulted by his Brother Gam, whose Preceptor he disciplines with a Horsewhip.
Peregrine is confronted by Mr. Gauntlet, with whom he has a duel, and they form a close friendship. He gets to the garrison and finds his mother as unyielding as always. He is taunted by his brother Gam, and he disciplines Gam's tutor with a horsewhip.
In order to expel the melancholy images that took possession of his fancy, at parting from his mistress, he called in the flattering ideas of those pleasures he expected to enjoy in France; and before he had rode ten miles, his imagination was effectually amused. While he thus prosecuted his travels by anticipation, and indulged himself in all the insolence of hope, at the turning of a lane he was all of a sudden overtaken by Emilia's brother on horseback, who told him he was riding the same way, and should be glad of his company. This young gentleman, whether prompted by personal pique, or actuated with zeal for the honour of his family, had followed our hero, with the view of obliging him to explain the nature of his attachment to his sister.
To shake off the sad thoughts that filled his mind after saying goodbye to his girlfriend, he started thinking about the enjoyable things he looked forward to in France; and before he had traveled ten miles, his imagination was pleasantly distracted. As he continued to dream about his journey and indulged in all the optimistic possibilities, he was suddenly approached by Emilia's brother on horseback at the corner of a lane. He mentioned that he was riding in the same direction and would be happy to have company. This young man, whether driven by personal issues or motivated by a sense of duty to his family’s honor, had followed our hero to make him explain the nature of his feelings for his sister.
Peregrine returned his compliment with such disdainful civility as gave him room to believe that he suspected his errand; and therefore, without further preamble, he declared his business in these words: “Mr. Pickle, you have carried on a correspondence with my sister for some time, and I should be glad to know the nature of it.” To this question our lover replied, “Sir, I should be glad to know what title you have to demand that satisfaction?”—“Sir,” answered the other, “I demand it in the capacity of a brother, jealous of his own honour, as well as of his sister's reputation; and if your intentions are honourable, you will not refuse it.”—“Sir,” said Peregrine, “I am not at present disposed to appeal to your opinion for the rectitude of my intentions: and I think you assume a little too much importance, in pretending to judge my conduct.”—“Sir,” replied the soldier, “I pretend to judge the conduct of every man who interferes with my concerns, and even to chastise him, if I think he acts amiss.”—“Chastise!” cried the youth, with indignation in his looks, “sure you dare not apply that term to me?”—“You are mistaken,” said Godfrey; “I dare do anything that becomes the character of a gentleman.”—“Gentleman, God wot!” replied the other, looking contemptuously at his equipage, which was none of the most superb, “a very pretty gentleman, truly!”
Peregrine responded to his compliment with a sarcastic courtesy that made him think he suspected why he was there; so, without any small talk, he got straight to the point: “Mr. Pickle, you’ve been corresponding with my sister for a while, and I’d like to know what the nature of that is.” To this, our lover replied, “Sir, I’d like to know what right you have to demand an explanation?”—“Sir,” the other answered, “I demand it as a brother, concerned about my own honor as well as my sister’s reputation; if your intentions are honorable, you won’t refuse.” —“Sir,” said Peregrine, “I don’t feel it’s necessary to seek your opinion on the integrity of my intentions, and I believe you’re overstepping a bit by thinking you can judge my actions.” —“Sir,” replied the soldier, “I believe I have the right to judge the actions of anyone who gets involved in my affairs, and even to reprimand him if I think he’s in the wrong.” —“Reprimand!” exclaimed the young man, indignation clear on his face, “surely you wouldn’t dare use that term regarding me?” —“You’re mistaken,” said Godfrey; “I would do anything that fits the character of a gentleman.” —“Gentleman, really!” the other retorted, glancing scornfully at his not-so-impressive gear, “what a fine gentleman you are!”
The soldier's wrath was inflamed by this ironical repetition, the contempt of which his conscious poverty made him feel; and he called his antagonist presumptuous boy, insolent upstart, and with other epithets, which Perry retorted with great bitterness. A formal challenge having passed between them, they alighted at the first inn, and walked into the next field, in order to decide their quarrel by the sword. Having pitched upon the spot, helped to pull off each other's boots, and laid aside their coats and waistcoats, Mr. Gauntlet told his opponent, that he himself was looked upon in the army as an expert swordsman, and that if Mr. Pickle had not made that science his particular study, they should be upon a more equal footing in using pistols. Peregrine was too much incensed to thank him for his plain dealing, and too confident of his own skill to relish the other's proposal, which he accordingly rejected: then, drawing his sword, he observed, that were he to treat Mr. Gauntlet according to his deserts, he would order his man to punish his audacity with a horsewhip. Exasperated at this expression, which he considered as an indelible affront, he made no reply, but attacked his adversary with equal ferocity and address. The youth parried his first and second thrust, but received the third in the outside of his sword-arm. Though the wound was superficial, he was transported with rage at sight of his own blood, and returned the assault with such fury and precipitation, that Gauntlet, loath to take advantage of his unguarded heat, stood upon the defensive. In the second lounge, Peregrine's weapon entering a kind of network in the shell of Godfrey's sword, the blade snapped in two, and left him at the mercy of the soldier, who, far from making an insolent use of the victory he had gained, put up his Toledo with great deliberation, like a man who had been used to that kind of reencounters, and observed that such a blade as Peregrine's was not to be trusted with a man's life: then advising the owner to treat a gentleman in distress with more respect for the future, he slipped on his boots, and with sullen dignity of demeanour stalked back to the inn.
The soldier's anger was fueled by this ironic repetition, the disdain of which his aware poverty made him feel; he called his opponent a presumptuous brat, an arrogant upstart, along with other insults that Perry countered with bitter words. After a formal challenge went back and forth, they got off their horses at the first inn and walked into the next field to settle their dispute with swords. After choosing their spot, they helped take off each other's boots, and removed their coats and waistcoats. Mr. Gauntlet told his opponent that he was regarded in the army as an expert swordsman, and that if Mr. Pickle hadn’t specifically studied swordsmanship, they would be more evenly matched with pistols. Peregrine was too angry to thank him for his honesty and too confident in his own skills to accept the other’s suggestion, which he turned down. Then, drawing his sword, he remarked that if he were to treat Mr. Gauntlet according to his worth, he would have his man punish his boldness with a horsewhip. Offended by this remark, which he saw as an unforgivable insult, Mr. Gauntlet didn’t respond but launched a fierce attack on his opponent. The young man blocked the first two thrusts but was hit by the third on the outside of his sword arm. Although the wound was shallow, seeing his own blood filled him with rage, and he retaliated with such aggression and haste that Gauntlet, unwilling to exploit his unguarded passion, stayed on the defensive. In the second strike, Peregrine's sword got caught in a kind of mesh on Gauntlet's sword, causing it to snap in half and leaving him defenseless against the soldier, who, rather than taking an arrogant advantage of his victory, sheathed his sword calmly, like someone experienced in such encounters, and remarked that a blade like Peregrine's couldn't be trusted with a man's life. Then, advising Peregrine to treat a gentleman in distress with more respect in the future, he put on his boots and, with a solemn air, strode back to the inn.
Though Pickle was extremely mortified at his miscarriage in this adventure, he was also struck with the behaviour of his antagonist, which affected him the more, as he understood that Godfrey's fierte had proceeded from the jealous sensibility of a gentleman declined into the vale of misfortune. Gauntlet's valour and moderation induced him to put a favourable construction on all those circumstances of that young soldier's conduct, which before had given him disgust. Though in any other case he would have industriously avoided the least appearance of submission, he followed his conqueror to the inn with a view of thanking him for his generous forbearance, and of soliciting his friendship and correspondence.
Though Pickle was really embarrassed by his failure in this adventure, he was also surprised by his opponent's behavior, which affected him even more because he realized that Godfrey's anger came from the sensitive nature of a gentleman who had fallen on hard times. Gauntlet's bravery and self-control led him to view all the actions of that young soldier, which had previously annoyed him, in a more positive light. Even though he typically would have avoided any sign of submission, he followed his conqueror to the inn to thank him for his generosity and to seek his friendship and communication.
Godfrey had his foot in the stirrup to mount, when Peregrine, coming up to him, desired he would defer his departure for a quarter of an hour, and favour him with a little private conversation. The soldier, who mistook the meaning of the request, immediately quitted his horse, and followed Pickle into a chamber, where he expected to find a brace of pistols loaded on the table: but he was very agreeably deceived, when our hero, in the most respectful terms, acknowledged his noble deportment in the field, owned that till then he had misunderstood his character, and begged that he would honour him with his intimacy and correspondence.
Godfrey had his foot in the stirrup ready to mount when Peregrine approached him and asked if he could wait a quarter of an hour to have a private conversation. The soldier, misunderstanding the request, immediately dismounted and followed Pickle into a room, where he expected to find a pair of loaded pistols on the table. However, he was pleasantly surprised when our hero, using the most respectful language, acknowledged his noble conduct in the field, admitted that he had misjudged his character until that point, and requested that he would allow him the honor of his friendship and correspondence.
Gauntlet, who had seen undoubted proofs of Peregrine's courage, which had considerably raised him in his esteem, and had sense enough to perceive that this concession was not owing to any sordid or sinister motive, embraced his offer with demonstrations of infinite satisfaction. When he understood the terms on which Mr. Pickle was with his sister, he proffered his service in his turn, either as agent, mediator, or confidant: nay, to give this new friend a convincing proof of his sincerity, he disclosed to him a passion which he had for some time entertained for his cousin Miss Sophy, though he durst not reveal his sentiments to her father, lest he should be offended at his presumption, and withdraw his protection from the family.
Gauntlet, who had seen clear evidence of Peregrine's bravery, which had significantly improved his opinion of him, and was smart enough to realize that this agreement wasn’t based on any greedy or shady motive, accepted his offer with huge satisfaction. When he learned the terms under which Mr. Pickle was involved with his sister, he offered his help as an agent, mediator, or confidant. To show this new friend that he was sincere, he opened up about a crush he'd had for some time on his cousin Miss Sophy, although he was too afraid to share his feelings with her father, worried that it might offend him and lead him to withdraw his support from the family.
Peregrine's generous heart was wrung with anguish, when he understood that this young gentleman, who was the only son of a distinguished officer, had carried arms for the space of five years, without being able to obtain a subaltern's commission, though he always had behaved with remarkable regularity and spirit, and, acquired the friendship and esteem of all the officers under whom he had served. He would, at that time, with the utmost pleasure, have shared his finances with him; but as he would not run the risk of offending the young soldier's delicacy of honour by a premature exertion of his liberality, he resolved to insinuate himself into an intimacy with him, before he would venture to take such freedoms; and with that view pressed Mr. Gauntlet to accompany him to the garrison, where he did not doubt of having influence enough to make him a welcome guest. Godfrey thanked him very courteously for his invitation, which he said he could not immediately accept; but promised, if he would favour him with a letter, and fix the time at which he proposed to set out for France, he would endeavour to visit him at the commodore's habitation, and from thence give him a convoy to Dover. This new treaty being settled, and a dossil of lint, with a snip of plaster, applied to our adventurer's wound, he parted from the brother of his dear Emilia, to whom and his friend Sophy he sent his kindest wishes; and having lodged one night upon the road, arrived next day in the afternoon at the garrison, where he found all his friends in good health, and overjoyed at his return.
Peregrine's generous heart was filled with pain when he realized that this young man, the only son of a distinguished officer, had served in the military for five years without being able to secure a junior officer's position, despite always showing remarkable dedication and earning the respect and friendship of all the officers he had worked with. At that moment, he would have gladly shared his finances with him; however, not wanting to offend the young soldier's sense of honor with a premature offer of help, he decided to build a friendship with him first before taking such a step. With that in mind, he invited Mr. Gauntlet to join him at the garrison, where he was confident he could ensure he would be a welcome guest. Godfrey politely thanked him for the invitation but said he couldn’t accept it right away; he promised, though, that if Peregrine would send him a letter detailing when he planned to leave for France, he would try to visit him at the commodore's home and then escort him to Dover. After this arrangement was made, and a bit of lint and plaster was applied to the adventurer's wound, he said goodbye to the brother of his dear Emilia, sending kind wishes to her and his friend Sophy. After spending a night on the road, he arrived the next afternoon at the garrison, where he found all his friends in good health and thrilled about his return.
The commodore, who was by this time turned of seventy, and altogether crippled by the gout, seldom went abroad; and as his conversation was not very entertaining, had but little company within doors; so that his spirits must have quite stagnated, had not they been kept in motion by the conversation of Hatchway, and received at different times a wholesome fillip from the discipline of his spouse, who, by the force of pride, religion, and Cognac, had erected a most terrible tyranny in the house. There was such a quick circulation of domestics in the family, that every suit of livery had been worn by figures of all dimensions. Trunnion himself had long before this time yielded to the torrent of her arbitrary sway, though not without divers obstinate efforts to maintain his liberty; and now, that he was disabled by his infirmities, when he used to bear his empress singing the loud Orthyan song among the servants below, he would often in whispers communicate to the lieutenant hints of what he would do if so be as how he was not deprived of the use of his precious limbs. Hatchway was the only person whom the temper of Mrs. Trunnion respected, either because she dreaded his ridicule, or looked upon his person with eyes of affection. This being the situation of things in the garrison, it is not to be doubted that the old gentleman highly enjoyed the presence of Peregrine, who found means to ingratiate himself so effectually with his aunt, that while he remained at home, she seemed to have exchanged the disposition of a tigress for that of a gentle kid; but he found his own mother as implacable, and his father as much henpecked, as ever.
The commodore, now over seventy and completely crippled by gout, rarely went out; and since his conversation wasn’t very engaging, he had little company at home. His spirits would have completely stagnated if it weren’t for Hatchway’s chats and occasional boosts from his wife’s strict discipline, which had established a formidable tyranny in the household through pride, faith, and Cognac. The turnover of staff in the house was so high that every uniform had been worn by people of all shapes and sizes. Trunnion had long since given in to her arbitrary rule, despite several stubborn attempts to maintain his freedom; now, unable due to his ailments, while listening to his wife belt out the loud Orthyan song among the servants below, he would often whisper to the lieutenant what he would do if he wasn’t hindered by his frail limbs. Hatchway was the only person Mrs. Trunnion seemed to respect, either out of fear of his mockery or because she viewed him fondly. Given this dynamic in the household, it’s no surprise that the old gentleman greatly appreciated Peregrine’s presence, as he managed to win over his aunt to the point where, while he was home, she seemed to transform from a fierce tigress into a gentle lamb; however, he found his own mother just as unyielding, and his father still as henpecked as ever.
Gamaliel, who now very seldom enjoyed the conversation of his old friend the commodore, had some time ago entered into an amicable society, consisting of the barber, apothecary, attorney, and exciseman of the parish, among whom he used to spend the evening at Tunley's, and listen to their disputes upon philosophy and politics with great comfort and edification, while his sovereign lady domineered at home as usual, visited with pomp in the neighbourhood, and employed her chief care in the education of her darling son Gam, who was now in the fifteenth year of his age, and so remarkable for his perverse disposition, that, in spite of his mother's influence and authority, he was not only hated, but also despised, both at home and abroad. She had put him under the tuition of the curate, who lived in the family, and was obliged to attend him in all his exercises and excursions. This governor was a low-bred fellow, who had neither experience nor ingenuity, but possessed a large fund of adulation and servile complaisance, by which he had gained the good graces of Mrs. Pickle, and presided over all her deliberations in the same manner as his superior managed those of Mrs. Trunnion.
Gamaliel, who rarely enjoyed the company of his old friend the commodore, had a while back joined a friendly group that included the barber, the pharmacist, the lawyer, and the tax collector of the parish. He would spend his evenings at Tunley's, listening to their debates on philosophy and politics with much enjoyment and insight, while his wife ruled the household as usual, socializing in the neighborhood, and focusing her main efforts on the education of her beloved son Gam, who was now fifteen years old and so notorious for his defiant nature that, despite his mother's influence and authority, he was not only hated but also scorned, both at home and outside. She had assigned him to the care of the curate, who lived with them and was expected to accompany him in all his activities and outings. This tutor was a crude individual who lacked both experience and creativity but had a wealth of flattery and subservient agreement, which helped him win the favor of Mrs. Pickle and oversee all her decisions just as his superior managed those of Mrs. Trunnion.
He had one day rode out to take the air with his pupil, who, as I have already observed, was odious to the poor people, for having killed their dogs and broken their inclosures, and, on account of his hump, distinguished by the title of My Lord, when in a narrow lane they chanced to meet Peregrine on horseback. The young squire no sooner perceived his elder brother, for whom he had been instructed to entertain the most inveterate grudge, than he resolved to insult him en passant, and actually rode against him from gallop. Our hero, guessing his aim, fixed himself in his stirrups, and by a dexterous management of the reins avoided the shock in such a manner as that their legs only should encounter; by which means my lord was tilted out of his saddle, and in a twinkling laid sprawling in the dirt. The governor, enraged at the disgrace of his charge, advanced with great insolence and fury, and struck at Peregrine with his whip. Nothing could be more agreeable to our young gentleman than this assault, which furnished him with an opportunity of chastising an officious wretch, whose petulance and malice he had longed to punish. He therefore, spurring up his horse towards his antagonist, overthrew him in the middle of a hedge. Before he had time to recollect himself from the confusion of the fall, Pickle alighted in a trice, and exercised his horsewhip with such agility about the curate's face and ears, that he was fain to prostrate himself before his enraged conqueror, and implore his forbearance in the most abject terms. While Peregrine was thus employed, his brother Gam had made shift to rise and attack him in the rear; for which reason, when the tutor was quelled, the victor faced about, snatched the weapon out of his hand, and having broken it to pieces, remounted his horse and rode off, without deigning to honour him with any other notice.
He had one day gone out for a ride with his student, who, as I already mentioned, was disliked by the locals for having killed their dogs and damaged their fences, and because of his hump, he was mockingly called My Lord. As they were riding down a narrow lane, they unexpectedly came across Peregrine on horseback. The young squire immediately spotted his older brother, whom he had been taught to resent deeply, and decided to insult him as he rode past. He charged at him head-on. Peregrine, anticipating this move, braced himself in his stirrups and skillfully maneuvered the reins to avoid a direct collision so that just their legs would meet. This caused My Lord to be thrown from his saddle, landing hard in the dirt. The tutor, furious at the humiliation of his student, approached with anger and struck at Peregrine with his whip. This attack was exactly what Peregrine had been waiting for, as it gave him a chance to take down a bothersome bully whose annoyance he had long wanted to confront. He quickly urged his horse towards his assailant and knocked him into a hedge. Before the tutor could recover from the shock of the fall, Pickle jumped off his horse and whacked him with the whip around his face and ears until the tutor had to grovel before him, begging for mercy in the most humiliating way. While Peregrine was busy with this, his brother Gam managed to get back up and attempted to attack him from behind. As a result, when the tutor was subdued, the victor turned, snatched the whip from his hand, broke it into pieces, then got back on his horse and rode away, ignoring him completely.
The condition in which they returned produced infinite clamour against the conqueror, who was represented as a ruffian who had lain in ambush to make away with his brother, in whose defence the curate was said to have received those cruel stripes that hindered him from appearing for three whole weeks in the performance of his duty at church. Complaints were made to the commodore, who, having inquired into the circumstances of the affair, approved of what his nephew had done, adding, with many oaths, that provided Peregrine had been out of the scrape, he wished Crook-back had broken his neck in the fall.
The condition they returned in caused a huge outcry against the conqueror, who was portrayed as a thug who had ambushed his brother. The curate was said to have suffered severe injuries while defending him, which kept him from attending to his church duties for three full weeks. Complaints were filed with the commodore, who, after looking into what happened, supported his nephew's actions, adding, with plenty of curses, that as long as Peregrine had come out okay, he wished Crook-back had twisted his neck in the fall.
CHAPTER XXIX.
He projects a plan of Revenge, which is executed against the Curate.
He creates a plan for revenge, which is carried out against the curate.
Our hero, exasperated at the villainy of the curate, in the treacherous misrepresentation he had made of this encounter, determined to rise upon him a method of revenge, which should be not only effectual but also unattended any bad consequence to himself. For this purpose he and Hatchway, to whom he imparted his plan, went to the ale-house one evening, and called for an empty room, knowing there was no other but that which they had chosen for the scene of action. This apartment was a sort of a parlour that fronted the kitchen, with a window towards the yard, where after they had sat some time, the lieutenant found means to amuse the landlord in discourse, while Peregrine, stepping out into the yard, by the talent of mimickry, which he possessed in a surprising degree, counterfeited a dialogue between the curate and Tunley's wife. This reaching the ears of the publican, for whose hearing it was calculated, inflamed his naturally jealous disposition to such a degree, that he could not conceal his emotion, but made a hundred efforts to quit the room; while the lieutenant, smoking his pipe with great gravity, as if he neither heard what passed nor took notice of the landlord's disorder, detained him on the spot by a succession of questions, which he could not refuse to answer, though he stood sweating with agony all the time, stretching his neck every instant towards the window through which the voices were conveyed, scratching his head, and exhibiting sundry other symptoms of impatience and agitation. At length the supposed conversation came to such a pitch of amorous complaisance, that the husband, quite frantic with his imaginary disgrace, rushed out of the door crying, “Coming, sir;” but as he was obliged to make a circuit round one-half of the house, Peregrine had got in by the window before Tunley arrived in the yard.
Our hero, frustrated by the curate's deceitful interpretation of their encounter
According to the feigned intelligence he had received, he ran directly to the barn, in expectation of making some very extraordinary discovery; and having employed some minutes in rummaging the straw to no purpose, returned in a state of distraction to the kitchen, just as his wife chanced to enter at the other door. The circumstance of her appearance confirmed him in the opinion that the deed was done. As the disease of being henpecked was epidemic in the parish, he durst not express the least hint of his uneasiness to her, but resolved to take vengeance on the libidinous priest, who he imagined had corrupted the chastity of his spouse.
Based on the fake information he had received, he rushed straight to the barn, hoping to uncover something extraordinary. After spending several minutes digging through the straw without any results, he returned to the kitchen in a state of panic, just as his wife happened to walk in through the other door. Her sudden appearance convinced him that something terrible had happened. Since being henpecked was common in the area, he didn’t dare show any sign of his worry to her, instead deciding to seek revenge on the lecherous priest, who he believed had compromised his wife's honor.
The two confederates, in order to be certified that their scheme had taken effect, as well as to blow up the flame which they had kindled, called for Tunley, in whose countenance they could easily discern his confusion. Peregrine, desiring him to sit down and drink a glass with them, began to interrogate him about his family, and, among other things, asked him how long he had been married to that handsome wife. This question, which was put with an arch significance of look, alarmed the publican, who began to fear that Pickle had overheard his dishonour; and this suspicion was not at all removed when the lieutenant, with a sly regard, pronounced “Tunley warn't you noosed by the curate?” “Yes, I was,” replied the landlord, with an eagerness and perplexity of tone, as if he thought the lieutenant knew that thereby hung a tale: and Hatchway supported the suspicion by “Nay, as for that matter, the curate may be a very sufficient man in his way.” This transition from his wife to the curate convinced him that his shame was known to his guests; and, in the transport of his indignation, he pronounced with great emphasis, “A sufficient man! Odds heart! I believe they are all wolves in sheep's clothing. I wish to God I could see the day, master, when there shall not be a priest, an exciseman, or a custom-house officer in the kingdom. As for that fellow of a curate, if I do catch him—It don't signify talking—But, by the Lord!—Gentlemen, my service to you.”
The two accomplices, wanting to confirm that their plan had worked and to stoke the fire they had started, called for Tunley, whose face showed his confusion. Peregrine asked him to sit down and have a drink with them, then started asking about his family, including how long he had been married to his attractive wife. This question, asked with a knowing look, made the publican nervous, as he began to worry that Pickle had heard about his disgrace; his concern only grew when the lieutenant slyly said, “Tunley, didn’t the curate tie the knot for you?” “Yes, he did,” the landlord replied, his eagerness and confusion suggesting he thought the lieutenant was aware of the backstory. Hatchway added to his worry by saying, “Well, the curate might actually be a decent enough guy.” This shift from talking about his wife to the curate made him think that his shame was known to his guests, and in a fit of anger, he emphatically said, “A decent guy! Good grief! I think they’re all wolves in sheep's clothing. I wish to God I could see the day when there won't be a priest, tax officer, or customs agent in this kingdom. As for that curate, if I catch him—there’s no point in talking about it—but, by God!—Gentlemen, cheers to you.”
The associates being satisfied, by these abrupt insinuations, that they had so far succeeded in their aim, waited with impatience two or three days in expectation of hearing that Tunley had fallen upon some method of being revenged for this imaginary wrong; but finding that either his invention was too shallow, or his inclination too languid, to gratify their desire of his own accord, they determined to bring the affair to such a crisis, that he should not be able to withstand the opportunity of executing his vengeance. With this view, they one evening hired a boy to run to Mr. Pickle's house, and tell the curate that Mrs. Tunley being taken suddenly ill, her husband desired he would come immediately and pray with her. They had taken possession of a room in the house and Hatchway engaging the landlord in conversation, Peregrine, in his return from the yard, observed, as if by accident, that the parson was gone into the kitchen, in order, as he supposed, to catechise Tunley's wife.
The associates, feeling confident from these sudden hints that they had made progress, waited impatiently for two or three days, expecting to hear that Tunley had found a way to get back at them for this imagined slight. However, when they realized that either his creativity was lacking or his desire too weak to take action on his own, they decided to force the situation so he wouldn’t be able to resist the chance to seek revenge. With that in mind, one evening they hired a boy to run to Mr. Pickle's house and tell the curate that Mrs. Tunley had suddenly fallen ill and her husband wanted him to come over immediately to pray with her. They had taken over a room in the house, and while Hatchway engaged the landlord in conversation, Peregrine, returning from the yard, casually noted that the parson had gone into the kitchen, presumably to question Tunley's wife.
The publican started at this intelligence, and, under pretence of serving another company in the next room, went out to the barn, where, arming himself with a flail, he repaired to a lane through which the curate was under a necessity of passing in his way home. There he lay in ambush with fell intent; and when the supposed author of his shame arrived, greeted him in the dark with such a salutation as forced him to stagger backward three paces at least. If the second application had taken effect, in all probability that spot would have been the boundary of the parson's mortal peregrination; but luckily for him, his antagonist was not expert in the management of his weapon, which, by a twist of the thong that connected the legs, instead of pitching upon the head of the astonished curate, descended in an oblique direction on his own pate, with such a swing that the skull actually rang like an apothecary's mortar, and ten thousand lights seemed to dance before his eyes. The curate recollecting himself during the respite he obtained from this accident, and believing his aggressor to be some thief who lurked in that place for prey, resolved to make a running fight, until he should arrive within cry of his habitation. With this design he raised up his cudgel for the defence of his head, and, betaking himself to his heels, began to roar for help with the lungs of a Stentor. Tunley, throwing away the flail, which he durst no longer trust with the execution of his revenge, pursued the fugitive with all the speed he could exert; and the other, either unnerved by fear or stumbling over a stone, was overtaken before he had run a hundred paces. He no sooner felt the wind of the publican's fist that whistled round his ears, than he fell flat upon the earth at full length, and the cudgel flew from his unclasping hand; when Tunley, springing like a tiger on his back, rained such a shower of blows upon his carcase, that he imagined himself under the discipline of ten pairs of fists at least; yet the imaginary cuckold, not satisfied with annoying the priest in this manner, laid hold of one of his ears with his teeth, and bit so unmercifully, that the curate was found almost entranced with pain by two labourers, at whose approach the assailant retreated unperceived.
The pub owner was taken aback by this news and, pretending to serve another group in the next room, slipped out to the barn. There, he armed himself with a flail and went to a lane that the curate had to pass to get home. He hid there, waiting with harmful intent; and when the man he blamed for his shame showed up, he greeted him in the dark with a blow that made him stagger back at least three steps. If the second hit had connected, it likely would have been the end of the curate's life; fortunately for him, his attacker wasn’t skilled with the weapon. Instead of hitting the startled curate, the flail swung awkwardly back and crashed onto his own head, ringing like an apothecary's mortar, causing lights to flash before his eyes. The curate, regaining his senses during this pause, thought his attacker was just a thief hiding there, and decided to make a run for it until he was close enough to call for help. With this plan in mind, he raised his club to protect his head and started running, shouting for help with a loud voice. Tunley, discarding the flail, which he no longer trusted to carry out his revenge, chased after him as fast as he could. The curate, either paralyzed by fear or tripping over a stone, was caught before he had run a hundred paces. No sooner did he feel the wind from the pub owner's fist flying past his ears than he fell flat on the ground, and the club slipped from his hand. Tunley, jumping on him like a tiger, unleashed a barrage of blows on him that made him feel like he was being hit by at least ten fists. Yet, not content with just beating the priest, he seized one of the curate's ears with his teeth and bit down so hard that the curate was found nearly unconscious with pain by two laborers, at whose approach Tunley retreated without being noticed.
The lieutenant had posted himself at the window, in order to see the landlord at his first return: and no sooner perceived him enter the yard, than he called him into the apartment, impatient to learn the effects of their stratagem. Tunley obeyed the summons, and appeared before his guests in all the violence of rage, disorder, and fatigue: his nostrils were dilated more than one-half beyond their natural capacity, his eyes rolled, his teeth chattered, he snored in breathing as if he had been oppressed by the nightmare, and streams of sweat flowed down each side of his forehead.
The lieutenant had positioned himself at the window to see the landlord when he returned. As soon as he noticed him enter the yard, he called him into the room, eager to find out how their plan had worked. Tunley responded to the call and appeared before his guests, visibly furious, disheveled, and exhausted: his nostrils flared well beyond their normal size, his eyes were wild, his teeth were chattering, he breathed as if he were suffering from a nightmare, and sweat streamed down either side of his forehead.
Peregrine, affecting to start at the approach of such an uncouth figure, asked if he had been with a spirit; upon which he answered, with great vehemence, “Spirit! No, no, master, I have had a roll and tumble with the flesh. A dog. I'll teach him to come a caterwauling about my doors.” Guessing from this reply, that his aim was accomplished, and curious to know the particulars of the rencounter, “Well, then,” said the youth, “I hope you have prevailed against the flesh, Tunley.”—“Yes, yes,” answered the publican, “I have cooled his capissens, as the saying is: I have played such a tune about his ears, that I'll be bound he shan't long for music this month. A goatish, man-faced rascal! Why, he's a perfect parish bull, as I hope to live.”
Peregrine pretended to be startled by the appearance of such an awkward figure and asked if he had encountered a spirit. The man replied passionately, “Spirit? No, no, boss, I’ve had a rough and tumble with the flesh. A dog. I’ll show him not to come howling around my place.” Sensing from this response that he had achieved his goal and eager to hear the details of the encounter, the youth said, “Well then, I hope you got the better of the flesh, Tunley.” “Yes, yes,” replied the pub owner, “I’ve settled his hash, as they say: I’ve played such a tune around his ears that I bet he won’t be in the mood for music this month. A goatish, man-faced rogue! Honestly, he’s a total menace, just like a parish bull, as long as I live.”
Hatchway, observing that he seemed to have made a stout battle, desired he would sit down and recover wind; and after he had swallowed a brace of bumpers, his vanity prompted him to expatiate upon his own exploit in such a manner, that the confederates, without seeming to know the curate was his antagonist, became acquainted with every circumstance of the ambuscade.
Hatchway, noticing that he appeared to have put up a good fight, asked him to sit down and catch his breath. After he knocked back a couple of drinks, his ego got the better of him, and he began to boast about his own actions in a way that led the others, without realizing that the curate was his opponent, to learn all the details of the surprise attack.
Tunley had scarce got the better of his agitation, when his wife, entering the room, told them, by way of news, that some waggish body had sent Mr. Sackbut the curate to pray with her. This name inflamed the husband's choler anew; and, forgetting all his complaisance for his spouse, he replied with a rancorous grin, “Add rabbit him! I doubt not but you found his admonitions deadly comfortable!” The landlady, looking at her vassal with a sovereign aspect, “What crotchets,” said she, “have you got in your fool's head, I trow? I know no business you have to sit here like a gentleman with your arms akimbo, there's another company in the house to be served.” The submissive husband took the hint, and without further expostulation sneaked out of the room.
Tunley had barely calmed his nerves when his wife walked into the room and casually mentioned that some jokester had sent Mr. Sackbut, the curate, to pray with her. Hearing that name set the husband off again, and forgetting his usual patience with his wife, he replied with a bitter grin, “Good grief! I’m sure you found his advice incredibly comforting!” The landlady, glancing at her servant with a commanding look, said, “What nonsense are you thinking, I wonder? I don't see why you should be lounging here like a gentleman with your arms crossed; there are other guests in the house that need serving.” The obedient husband took the hint and, without arguing, quietly exited the room.
Next day it was reported that Mr. Sackbut had been waylaid and almost murdered by robbers, and an advertisement was pasted upon the church-door, offering a reward to any person that should discover the assassin; but he reaped no satisfaction from this expedient, and was confined to his chamber a whole fortnight, by the bruises he had received.
The next day, it was reported that Mr. Sackbut had been ambushed and nearly killed by robbers, and an advertisement was posted on the church door, offering a reward to anyone who could identify the attacker; however, this strategy brought him no relief, and he was stuck in his room for two whole weeks because of the injuries he sustained.
CHAPTER XXX.
Mr. Sackbut and his Pupil conspire against Peregrine, who, being apprised of their Design by his Sister, takes measures for counterworking their Scheme, which is executed by mistake upon Mr. Gauntlet—this young Soldier meets with a cordial reception from the Commodore, who generously decoys him into his own interest.
Mr. Sackbut and his student are plotting against Peregrine, who finds out about their plan from his sister and takes steps to thwart it. However, by mistake, their scheme ends up affecting Mr. Gauntlet. This young soldier receives a warm welcome from the Commodore, who cleverly lures him into his own agenda.
When he considered the circumstances of the ambuscade, he could not persuade himself that he had been assaulted by a common thief, because it was not to be supposed that a robber would have amused himself in pummeling rather than in rifling his prey; he therefore ascribed his misfortune to the secret enmity of some person who had a design upon his life; and, upon mature deliberation, fixed his suspicion upon Peregrine, who was the only man on earth from whom he thought he deserved such treatment. He communicated his conjecture to his pupil, who readily adopted his opinion, and advised him strenuously to revenge the wrong by a like contrivance, without seeking to make a narrower inquiry, lest his enemy should be thereby put upon his guard.
When he thought about what happened during the ambush, he couldn’t convince himself that he had been attacked by just a common thief. It didn’t make sense that a robber would prefer to beat him up instead of just taking his stuff. So, he concluded that his misfortune was due to the secret resentment of someone who wanted to take his life. After giving it some careful thought, he settled on Peregrine as the suspect since he was the only person he felt deserved to treat him that way. He shared his suspicions with his student, who quickly agreed and strongly advised him to get revenge in a similar way, without digging deeper into the investigation, to avoid alerting his enemy.
This proposal being relished, they in concert revolved the means of retorting the ambush with interest, and actually laid such a villainous plan for attacking our hero in the dark, that, had it been executed according to their intention, the young gentleman's scheme of travelling would have been effectually marred. But their machinations were overheard by Miss Pickle, who was now in the seventeenth year of her age, and, in spite of the prejudice of education, entertained in secret a most sisterly affection for her brother Perry, though she had never spoken to him, and was deterred by the precepts, vigilance and menaces of her mother, from attempting any means of meeting him in private. She was not, however, insensible to his praise, which was loudly sounded forth in the neighbourhood; and never failed of going to church, and every other place, where she thought she might have an opportunity of seeing this amiable brother. With these sentiments it cannot be supposed that she would hear the conspiracy without emotion. She was shocked at the treacherous barbarity of Gam, and shuddered at the prospect of the danger to which Peregrine would be exposed from their malice. She durst not communicate this plot to her mother, because she was afraid that lady's unaccountable aversion for her first-born would hinder her from interposing in his behalf, and consequently render her a sort of accomplice in the guilt of his assassins. She therefore resolved to warn Peregrine of the conspiracy, on account of which she transmitted to him in an affectionate letter, by means of a young gentleman in that neighbourhood, who made his addresses to her at that time, and who, at her request, offered his service to our hero, in defeating the projects of his adversaries.
This proposal being enjoyed, they together figured out how to respond to the ambush with enthusiasm and actually came up with a devious plan to attack our hero in the dark. If they had executed it as they intended, the young man's travel plans would have been completely ruined. However, Miss Pickle, who was now seventeen, overheard their scheme and, despite her upbringing, secretly harbored a strong sisterly love for her brother Perry, even though she had never spoken to him and was held back by her mother’s rules and threats from trying to meet him privately. Still, she was aware of his reputation, which was well-known in the neighborhood, and always made sure to go to church and any other place where she might see her charming brother. Given her feelings, it’s no surprise that she reacted emotionally to hearing about the conspiracy. She was appalled by Gam's treacherous cruelty and horrified at the danger Perry would face because of their malice. She couldn't share this plot with her mother, fearing that her mother's strange dislike for her firstborn would prevent her from stepping in to help him, making her almost an accomplice to his attackers. So, she decided to warn Peregrine about the conspiracy and sent him a heartfelt letter through a young man in the neighborhood who was courting her at that time, and who, at her request, offered his assistance to our hero in thwarting his enemies' plans.
Peregrine was startled when he read the particulars of their scheme, which was no other than an intention to sally upon him when he should be altogether unprovided against such an attack, cut off his ears, and otherwise mutilate him in such a manner that he should have no cause to be vain of his person for the future. Incensed as he was against the brutal disposition of his own father's son, he could not help being moved at the integrity and tenderness of his sister, of whose inclinations towards him he had been hitherto kept in ignorance. He thanked the gentleman for his honourable dealing, and expressed a desire of being better acquainted with his virtues; told him that now he was cautioned, he hoped there would be no necessity for giving him any further trouble, and wrote by him a letter of acknowledgment to his sister, for whom he expressed the utmost love and regard, beseeching her to favour him with an interview before his departure, that he might indulge his fraternal fondness, and be blessed with the company and countenance of one at least belonging to his own family. Having imparted this discovery to his friend Hatchway, they came to a resolution of countermining the plan of their enemies. As they did not choose to expose themselves to the insinuations of slander, which would have exerted itself at their expense, had they, even in defending themselves, employed any harsh means of retaliation, they invented a method of disappointing and disgracing their foes, and immediately set Pipes at work to forward the preparations. Miss Pickle having described the spot which the assassins had pitched upon for the scene of their vengeance, our triumvirate intended to have placed a sentinel among the corn, who should come and give them intelligence when the ambuscade was laid; and, in consequence of that information, they would steal softly towards the place, attended by three or four of the domestics, and draw a large net over the conspirators, who, being entangled in the toil, should be disarmed, fettered, heartily scourged, and suspended between two trees in the snare, as a spectacle to all passengers that should chance to travel that way.
Peregrine was shocked when he read the details of their plan, which was nothing less than an intention to attack him when he was completely defenseless, cut off his ears, and otherwise hurt him in a way that would make him feel ashamed of his appearance in the future. As angry as he was at the cruel nature of his own half-brother, he couldn't help but be moved by the honesty and kindness of his sister, whose feelings for him he had previously been unaware of. He thanked the gentleman for his honorable intentions and expressed a desire to get to know his virtues better; he mentioned that now that he was warned, he hoped there would be no need for any further trouble from them, and he wrote a letter of appreciation to his sister, expressing his deepest love and affection, asking her to meet with him before his departure so he could indulge in his brotherly feelings and be blessed with the company of at least one person from his own family. After sharing this revelation with his friend Hatchway, they decided to come up with a plan to thwart their enemies. They did not want to expose themselves to slander, which would have been directed at them, even if they resorted to harsh means of retaliation in self-defense. Instead, they devised a way to outsmart and embarrass their foes, and immediately had Pipes start working on the preparations. Miss Pickle described the location that the attackers had chosen for their act of revenge, and their trio planned to place a lookout in the cornfield who would alert them when the ambush was set; armed with that information, they would quietly approach the location with three or four household staff, and throw a large net over the conspirators, who, once caught, would be disarmed, restrained, thoroughly punished, and hung between two trees in the trap, serving as a warning to anyone who happened to pass that way.
The plan being thus digested, and the commodore acquainted with the whole affair, the spy was sent upon duty, and everybody within-doors prepared to go forth upon the first notice. One whole evening did they spend in the most impatient expectation, but on the second the scout crept into the garrison, and assured them that he had perceived three men skulking behind the hedge, on the road that led to the public-house from which Peregrine and the lieutenant used every night to return about that hour. Upon this intelligence the confederates set out immediately with all their implements. Approaching the scene with as little noise as possible, they heard the sound of blows; and, though the night was dark, perceived a sort of tumultuous conflict on the very spot which the conspirators had possessed. Surprised at this occurrence, the meaning of which he could not comprehend, Peregrine ordered his myrmidons to halt and reconnoitre; and immediately his ears were saluted with an exclamation of “You shan't 'scape me, rascal.” The voice being quite familiar to him, he at once divined the cause of that confusion which they had observed; and running up to the assistance of the exclaimer, found a fellow on his knees begging his life of Mr. Gauntlet, who stood over him with a naked hanger in his hand.
The plan was made, and the commodore was filled in on everything, so the spy was sent out to do his job, while everyone inside got ready to head out at a moment's notice. They spent an entire evening anxiously waiting, but on the next night, the scout sneaked into the garrison and told them he had seen three men lurking behind the hedge on the road that led to the pub where Peregrine and the lieutenant usually came back from every night around that time. With this information, the group set out right away with all their gear. As they approached the area as quietly as possible, they heard the sounds of fighting; and, even though it was dark, they could make out a chaotic struggle exactly where the conspirators had been. Surprised by this event, which he couldn't understand, Peregrine commanded his crew to stop and survey the situation; and suddenly he heard someone shout, “You won’t get away from me, you scoundrel.” Recognizing the voice, he quickly figured out the reason for the commotion they had seen, and when he rushed to help the person who had shouted, he found a guy on his knees pleading for his life from Mr. Gauntlet, who was standing over him with a drawn sword.
Pickle instantly made himself known to his friend, who told him, that having left his horse at Tunley's, he was, in his way to the garrison, set upon by three ruffians, one of whom being the very individual person now in his power, had come behind him, and struck with a bludgeon at his head, which, however, he missed, and the instrument descended on his left shoulder; that, upon drawing his hanger, and laying about him in the dark, the other two fled, leaving their companion, whom he had disabled, in the lurch.
Pickle quickly introduced himself to his friend, who explained that after leaving his horse at Tunley's, he was on his way to the garrison when he was attacked by three thugs. One of them, now in his grasp, had snuck up behind him and swung a club at his head, but missed and hit his left shoulder instead. He then drew his sword and fought back in the dark, causing the other two to run away and leaving their incapacitated companion behind.
Peregrine congratulated him on his safety, and having ordered Pipes to secure the prisoner, conducted Mr. Gauntlet to the garrison, where he met with a very hearty reception from the commodore, to whom he was introduced as his nephew's intimate friend; not but that, in all likelihood, he would have abated somewhat of his hospitality had he known that he was the brother of Perry's mistress; but her name the old gentleman had never thought of asking, when he inquired into the particulars of his godson's amour.
Peregrine congratulated him on being safe, and after telling Pipes to lock up the prisoner, he took Mr. Gauntlet to the garrison, where the commodore welcomed him warmly. He introduced Mr. Gauntlet as a close friend of his nephew. However, it's likely that the commodore would have toned down his hospitality if he had known that Mr. Gauntlet was the brother of Perry's girlfriend; but the old gentleman had never thought to ask her name when he was finding out about his godson's romantic interests.
The captive being examined, in presence of Trunnion and all his adherents, touching the ambuscade, owned that being in the service of Gam Pickle, he had been prevailed upon, by the solicitations of his master and the Curate, to accompany them in their expedition, and undertake the part which he had acted against the stranger, whom he and his employers mistook for Peregrine. In consideration of this frank acknowledgment, and a severe wound he had received in his right arm, they resolved to inflict no other punishment on this malefactor than to detain him all night in the garrison, and next morning carry him before a justice of the peace, to whom he repeated all he had said overnight, and with his own hand subscribed his confession, copies of which were handed about the neighbourhood, to the unspeakable confusion and disgrace of the curate and his promising pupil.
The captive being questioned, in front of Trunnion and all his supporters, regarding the ambush, admitted that while working for Gam Pickle, he had been convinced by his master and the Curate to join them on their mission and played the role he did against the stranger, whom he and his employers mistakenly believed to be Peregrine. Given this honest confession and a serious injury he had sustained in his right arm, they decided to impose no further punishment on this wrongdoer than to keep him overnight in the garrison, and the next morning take him before a justice of the peace, to whom he repeated everything he had said the night before, and he personally signed his confession, copies of which were distributed throughout the neighborhood, leading to the unbelievable embarrassment and shame of the curate and his promising student.
Meanwhile Trunnion treated the young soldier with uncommon marks of respect, being prepossessed in his favour by this adventure, which he had so gallantly achieved, as well as by the encomiums that Peregrine bestowed upon his valour and generosity. He liked his countenance, which was bold and hardy, admired his Herculean limbs, and delighted in asking questions concerning the service he had seen. The day after his arrival, while the conversation turned on this last subject, the commodore, taking the pipe out of his month, “I'll tell ye what, brother,” said he; “five-and-forty years ago, when I was third lieutenant of the Warwick man-of-war, there was a very stout young fellow on board, a subaltern officer of marines; his name was not unlike your own, d'ye see, being Guntlet, with a G. I remember he and I could not abide one another at first, because, d'ye see, I was a sailor and he a landsman; till we fell in with a Frenchman, whom we engaged for eight glasses, and at length boarded and took. I was the first man that stood on the enemy's deck, and should have come scurvily off, d'ye see, if Guntlet had not jumped to my assistance; but we soon cleared ship, and drove them to close quarters, so that they were obliged to strike; and from that day Guntlet and I were sworn brothers as long as he remained on board. He was exchanged into a marching regiment, and what became of him afterwards, Lord in heaven knows; but this I'll say of him, whether he be dead or alive, he feared no man that ever wore a head, and was, moreover, a very hearty messmate.”
Meanwhile, Trunnion treated the young soldier with unusual respect, impressed by the brave adventure he had undertaken, as well as by the praise Peregrine gave for his bravery and kindness. He liked the soldier's bold and tough appearance, admired his strong build, and enjoyed asking questions about his experiences in service. The day after his arrival, while the conversation focused on this topic, the commodore took the pipe out of his mouth and said, “I’ll tell you what, brother: forty-five years ago, when I was the third lieutenant on the Warwick warship, there was a very tough young guy on board, a subaltern officer of marines; his name was similar to yours, you see, being Guntlet, with a G. I remember at first we couldn’t stand each other because, you see, I was a sailor and he was a landsman; until we encountered a French ship, which we engaged for eight rounds and eventually boarded and took. I was the first to step onto the enemy's deck, and I would have been in big trouble if Guntlet hadn’t jumped in to help me; but we quickly took control of the ship and cornered them, forcing them to surrender. From that day on, Guntlet and I were like sworn brothers as long as he stayed on board. He got transferred to a marching regiment, and what happened to him after that, only God knows; but I will say this about him, whether he’s dead or alive, he feared no man who ever lived, and he was also a great buddy at the mess.”
The stranger's breast glowed at this eulogium, which was no sooner pronounced than he eagerly asked if the French ship was not the Diligence? The commodore replied, with a stare, “The very same, my lad.”—“Then,” said Gauntlet, “the person of whom you are pleased to make such honourable mention was my own father.”—“The devil he was!” cried Trunnion, shaking him by the hand: “I am rejoiced to see a son of Ned Guntlet in my house.”
The stranger's chest swelled with pride at this compliment, and as soon as it was said, he eagerly asked if the French ship was the Diligence. The commodore replied, with disbelief, “That’s the one, my boy.” “Then,” said Gauntlet, “the person you’re praising was my own father.” “No way!” exclaimed Trunnion, shaking his hand. “I’m thrilled to have a son of Ned Guntlet in my house.”
This discovery introduced a thousand questions, in the course of which the old gentleman learned the situation of his friend's family, and discharged innumerable execrations upon the ingratitude and injustice of the ministry, which had failed to provide for the son of such a brave soldier. Nor was his friendship confined to such ineffectual expressions; he that same evening signified to Peregrine a desire of doing something for his friend. This inclination was so much praised, encouraged, and promoted by his godson, and even supported by his councilor Hatchway, that our hero was empowered to present him with a sum of money sufficient to purchase a commission.
This discovery raised a thousand questions, during which the old gentleman learned about his friend's family's situation and unleashed countless curses on the ingratitude and injustice of the government, which failed to care for the son of such a brave soldier. But his friendship wasn't limited to just empty words; that very evening, he expressed a desire to do something for his friend. This sentiment was greatly praised, encouraged, and supported by his godson, and even backed by his advisor, Hatchway, which allowed our hero to give him enough money to buy a commission.
Though nothing could be more agreeable to Pickle than this permission, he was afraid that Godfrey's scrupulous disposition would hinder him from subjecting himself to any such obligation; and therefore proposed that he should be decoyed into his own interest by a feigned story, in consequence of which he would be prevailed upon to accept of the money, as a debt which the commodore had contracted of his father at sea. Trunnion made wry faces at this expedient, the necessity of which he could not conceive, without calling in question the common sense of Gauntlet; as he took it for granted that such offers as those were not to be rejected on any consideration whatever. Besides, he could not digest an artifice, by which he himself must own that he had lived so many years without manifesting the least intention of doing justice to his creditor. All these objections, however, were removed by the zeal and rhetoric of Peregrine, who represented that it would be impossible to befriend him on any other terms; that his silence hitherto would be imputed to his want of information touching the circumstances and condition of his friend; and that his remembering and insisting upon discharging the obligation, after such an interval of time, when the whole affair was in oblivion, would be the greatest compliment he could pay to his own honour and integrity.
Though nothing could please Pickle more than this permission, he was worried that Godfrey's overly cautious nature would prevent him from taking on such an obligation. He suggested instead that Godfrey be lured into agreeing by a made-up story, claiming that the commodore had owed his father money from a debt incurred at sea. Trunnion frowned at this plan, unable to see why it was necessary, as he believed such offers should never be turned down under any circumstances. Plus, he wasn't comfortable with the idea of a trick, which would mean admitting that he hadn't made any effort to repay his creditor all these years. Nevertheless, all of Trunnion's concerns were soothed by Peregrine's enthusiasm and persuasive arguments. Peregrine explained that it would be impossible to help him in any other way, that Trunnion's silence until now could be explained by his lack of knowledge about his friend's situation, and that bringing up and insisting on paying the debt after so long would be the greatest sign of his own honor and integrity.
Thus persuaded, he took an opportunity of Gauntlet's being alone with him to broach the affair, telling the young man that his father had advanced a sum of money for him, when they sailed together, on account of the mess, as well as to stop the mouth of a clamorous creditor at Portsmouth; and that the said sum, with interest, amounted to about four hundred pounds, which he would now, with great thankfulness, repay.
Thus convinced, he took the chance of being alone with Gauntlet to bring up the matter, telling the young man that his father had lent him some money when they sailed together, both for the mess and to silence a persistent creditor in Portsmouth. He explained that the total amount, with interest, was about four hundred pounds, which he would now repay with great gratitude.
Godfrey was amazed at this declaration, and, after a considerable pause, replied, that he had never heard his parents mention any such debt; that no memorandum or voucher of it was found among his father's papers; and that, in all probability, it must have been discharged long ago, although the commodore, in such a long course of time and hurry of occupation, might have forgotten the repayment: he therefore desired to be excused from accepting what in his own conscience he believed was not his due; and complemented the old gentleman upon his being so scrupulously just and honourable.
Godfrey was shocked by this statement, and after a long pause, he responded that he had never heard his parents mention any such debt. He noted that there was no record or proof of it among his father's papers and that, most likely, it had been paid off a long time ago. The commodore, after such a long period and with so many responsibilities, might have simply forgotten about the repayment. Therefore, he asked to be excused from accepting what he honestly believed was not owed to him and praised the old gentleman for being so meticulous and honorable.
The soldier's refusal, which was matter of astonishment to Trunnion, increased his inclination to assist him; and, on pretence of acquitting his own character, he urged his beneficence with such obstinacy, that Gauntlet, afraid of disobliging him, was in a manner compelled to receive a draft for the money; for which he subscribed an ample discharge, and immediately transmitted the order to his mother, whom at the same time he informed of the circumstances by which they had so unexpectedly gained this accession of fortune.
The soldier's refusal surprised Trunnion and made him even more eager to help. Pretending it was about clearing his own name, he insisted on his generosity so much that Gauntlet, worried about upsetting him, felt almost forced to accept a check for the money. In return, he signed a full release and quickly sent the order to his mother, while also letting her know how they had unexpectedly come into this fortune.
Such a piece of news could not fail of being agreeable to Mrs. Gauntlet, who by the first post wrote a polite letter of acknowledgment to the commodore; another to her own son, importing that she had already sent the draft to a friend in London, with directions to deposit it in the hands of a certain banker, for the purchase of the first ensigncy to be sold; and she took the liberty of sending a third to Peregrine, couched in very affectionate terms, with a kind postscript, signed by Miss Sophy and his charming Emily.
Such news would undoubtedly please Mrs. Gauntlet, who immediately wrote a polite acknowledgment letter to the commodore with the first post. She also sent another letter to her son, informing him that she had already sent the draft to a friend in London, with instructions to deposit it with a certain banker to buy the first available ensigncy. Additionally, she took the liberty of sending a third letter to Peregrine, filled with affectionate words and a warm postscript signed by Miss Sophy and his lovely Emily.
This affair being transacted to the satisfaction of all concerned, preparations were set on foot for the departure of our hero, on whom his uncle settled an annuity of eight hundred pounds, being little less than one half of his whole income. By this time, indeed, the old gentleman could easily afford to alienate such a part of his fortune, because he entertained little or no company, kept few servants, and was remarkably plain and frugal in his housekeeping. Mrs. Trunnion being now some years on the wrong side of fifty, her infirmities began to increase; and though her pride had suffered no diminution, her vanity was altogether subdued by her avarice.
This matter was resolved to everyone's satisfaction, and plans were made for our hero's departure, with his uncle providing an annuity of eight hundred pounds, which was nearly half of his entire income. By this time, the old gentleman could comfortably give up that portion of his wealth, as he had little to no company, employed few servants, and was very simple and frugal in his household management. Mrs. Trunnion, now a few years past fifty, began to experience more health issues; although her pride remained intact, her vanity was completely overshadowed by her greed.
A Swiss valet-de-chambre, who had already made the tour of Europe, was hired for the care of Peregrine's own person. Pipes being ignorant of the French language, as well as otherwise unfit for the office of a fashionable attendant, it was resolved that he should remain in garrison; and his place was immediately supplied by a Parisian lacquey engaged at London for that purpose. Pipes did not seem to relish this disposition of things; and though he made no verbal objections to it, looked remarkably sour at his successor upon his first arrival; but this sullen fit seemed gradually to wear off; and long before his master's departure, he had recovered his natural tranquility and unconcern.
A Swiss valet, who had already traveled around Europe, was hired to take care of Peregrine. Since Pipes didn’t know French and wasn’t suited to be a fashionable attendant, it was decided he would stay behind; his position was quickly filled by a Parisian servant hired in London for that purpose. Pipes didn’t seem to like this arrangement; although he didn’t voice any complaints, he looked quite displeased with his replacement when he first arrived. However, this sulkiness gradually faded, and well before his master left, he had returned to his usual calm and indifference.
CHAPTER XXXI.
The two young Gentlemen display their talents for Gallantry, in the course of which they are involved in a ludicrous circumstance of Distress, and afterwards take Vengeance on the Author of their Mishap.
The two young gentlemen show off their skills in charm, during which they find themselves in a ridiculous situation of trouble, and later seek revenge on the cause of their misfortune.
Meanwhile our hero and his new friend, together with honest Jack Hatchway, made daily excursions into the country, visited the gentlemen in the neighbourhood, and frequently accompanied them to the chase; all three being exceedingly caressed on account of their talents, which could accommodate themselves with great facility to the tempers and turns of their entertainers. The lieutenant was a droll in his way, Peregrine possessed a great fund of sprightliness and good-humour, and Godfrey, among his other qualifications already recited, sang a most excellent song; so that the company of this triumvirate was courted in all parties, whether male or female: and if the hearts of our young gentlemen had not been pre-engaged, they would have met with opportunities in abundance of displaying their address in the art of love: not but that they gave loose to their gallantry without much interesting their affections, and amused themselves with little intrigues, which, in the opinion of a man of pleasure, do not affect his fidelity to the acknowledged sovereign of his soul.
Meanwhile, our hero and his new friend, along with the honest Jack Hatchway, went on daily trips into the countryside, socialized with the local gentlemen, and often joined them on hunts. All three were very well-liked for their skills, which easily adapted to the moods of their hosts. The lieutenant had an amusing style, Peregrine was lively and good-natured, and Godfrey, in addition to his other talents, sang beautifully; as a result, this trio was popular in all social circles, both male and female. If our young gentlemen's hearts hadn't already been taken, they would have had plenty of chances to show off their romantic skills. However, they allowed themselves some playful flings without deeply engaging their feelings, enjoying little affairs that, for a pleasure-seeking man, didn't compromise his loyalty to the one he truly loved.
In the midst of these amusements, our hero received an intimation from his sister, that she should be overjoyed to meet him next day, at five o'clock in the afternoon, at the house of her nurse, who lived in a cottage hard by her father's habitation, she being debarred from all opportunity of seeing him in any other place by the severity of her mother, who suspected her inclination. He accordingly obeyed the summons, and went at the time appointed to the place of rendezvous, where he met this affectionate young lady, who when he entered the room, ran towards him with all the eagerness of transport, flung her arms about his neck, and shed a flood of tears in his bosom before she could utter one word, except a repetition of My dear, dear brother! He embraced her with all the piety of fraternal tenderness, wept over her in his turn, assured her that this was one of the happiest moments of his life, and kindly thanked her for having resisted the example, and disobeyed the injunctions, of his mother's unnatural aversion.
In the middle of these fun activities, our hero got a message from his sister saying she would be thrilled to see him the next day at five in the afternoon, at the house of her nurse, who lived in a cottage close to their father’s house. She was unable to meet him anywhere else because their mother was so strict and suspected her feelings. He followed her invitation and arrived at the agreed time, where he found this loving young lady. As soon as he walked into the room, she dashed towards him with overwhelming excitement, wrapped her arms around his neck, and cried a stream of tears on his chest before saying anything, except for “My dear, dear brother!” He hugged her with all the love of a caring brother, cried for her in return, told her this was one of the happiest moments of his life, and gratefully thanked her for going against their mother’s unreasonable dislike.
He was ravished to find, by her conversation, that she possessed a great share of sensibility and prudent reflection; for she lamented the infatuation of her parents with the most filial regret, and expressed such abhorrence and concern at the villainous disposition of her younger brother as a humane sister may be supposed to have entertained. He made her acquainted with all the circumstances of his own fortune; and, as he supposed she spent her time very disagreeably at home, among characters which must be shockingly interesting, professed a desire of removing her into some other sphere, where she could live with more tranquility and satisfaction.
He was thrilled to discover, through her conversation, that she had a lot of emotional awareness and careful thought; she expressed deep regret over her parents' foolishness and showed strong disdain and worry about her younger brother's awful behavior, just like a caring sister would. He shared all the details about his own situation, and since he thought she must be very unhappy at home with such difficult people, he expressed a desire to help her move to a different environment where she could live more peacefully and happily.
She objected to this proposal as an expedient that would infallibly subject her to the implacable resentment of her mother, whose favour and affection she at present enjoyed but in a very inconsiderable degree; and they had canvassed divers schemes of corresponding for the future, when the voice of Mrs. Pickle was heard at the door. Miss Julia (that was the young lady's name), finding herself betrayed, was seized with a violent agitation of fear; and Peregrine scarce had time to encourage her with a promise of protection, before the door of the apartment being flung open, this irreconcilable parent rushed in, and, with a furious aspect, flew directly at her trembling daughter, when, the son interposing, received the first discharge of her fury.
She objected to this proposal as a solution that would definitely make her the target of her mother's unyielding anger, whose favor and affection she currently had, but only to a very small extent. They had discussed various plans for future correspondence when Mrs. Pickle's voice was heard at the door. Miss Julia (that was the young lady's name), feeling caught, was overcome with intense fear; and Peregrine barely had time to reassure her with a promise of protection before the door flew open and this relentless parent stormed in, rushing directly at her trembling daughter. When he stepped in to intervene, he took the brunt of her fury.
Her eyes gleamed with all the rage of indignation, which choked up her utterance, and seemed to convulse her whole frame: she twisted her left hand in his hair, and with the other buffeted him about the face till the blood gushed from his nostrils and mouth; while he defended his sister from the cruelty of Gam, who assaulted her from another quarter, seeing his brother engaged. This attack lasted several minutes with great violence, till at length Peregrine, finding himself in danger of being overpowered if he should remain any longer on the defensive, laid his brother on his back; then he disentangled his mother's hand from his own hair, and, having pushed her gently out of the room, bolted the door on the inside; finally, turning to Gam, he threw him out at the window, among a parcel of hogs that fed under it. By this time Julia was almost quite distracted with terror: she knew she had offended beyond all hope of forgiveness, and from that moment considered herself as an exile from her father's house: in vain did her brother strive to console her with fresh protestations of love and protection; she counted herself extremely miserable in being obliged to endure the eternal resentment of a parent with whom she had hitherto lived; and dreaded the censure of the world, which, from her mother's misrepresentation, she was sensible would condemn her unheard. That she might not, however, neglect any means in her power of averting this storm, she resolved to appease, if possible, her mother's wrath with humiliation, and even appeal to the influence of her father, weak as it was, before she would despair of being forgiven. But the good lady spared her this unnecessary application, by telling her, through the keyhole, that she must never expect to come within her father's door again; for, from that hour, she renounced her as unworthy of her affection and regard. Julia, weeping bitterly, endeavoured to soften the rigour of this sentence by the most submissive and reasonable remonstrances; but as, in her vindication, she of necessity espoused her elder brother's cause, her endeavours, instead of soothing, served only to exasperate her mother to a higher pitch of indignation, which discharged itself in invectives against Peregrine, whom she reviled with the epithets of a worthless, abandoned reprobate.
Her eyes sparkled with all the anger of indignation, which choked her words and seemed to shake her entire body. She twisted her left hand in his hair and used her other hand to hit him in the face until blood streamed from his nose and mouth, while he defended his sister from Gam, who attacked her from another angle since his brother was occupied. This fight lasted several minutes with intense force until Peregrine, realizing he might be overwhelmed if he stayed on the defense, pushed his brother onto his back; then he freed his mother’s hand from his hair, gently pushed her out of the room, and locked the door from the inside. Finally, turning to Gam, he threw him out the window into a group of pigs that were feeding below. By now, Julia was almost completely overwhelmed with fear: she knew she had messed up beyond hope of forgiveness and from that moment saw herself as an exile from her father’s house. Her brother tried in vain to comfort her with fresh promises of love and protection; she felt extremely miserable for having to face the eternal anger of a parent she had always lived with and dreaded the judgment of the world, which, due to her mother’s misrepresentation, she knew would condemn her without hearing her side. However, not wanting to neglect any chance of calming this storm, she decided to try to appease her mother’s anger through humility and maybe even appeal to her father’s influence, weak as it was, before she gave up hope of being forgiven. But her mother spared her this unnecessary plea by telling her through the keyhole that she should never expect to enter her father's house again; from that moment, she renounced Julia as unworthy of her love and care. Julia, crying bitterly, tried to soften the harshness of this verdict with the most submissive and reasonable arguments; but since she had to defend her older brother in her defense, her attempts only served to infuriate her mother more, which erupted in insults towards Peregrine, whom she called a worthless, abandoned rogue.
The youth, hearing these unjust aspersions, trembled with resentment through every limb, assuring the upbraider that he considered her as an object of compassion; “for without all doubt,” said he, “your diabolical rancour must be severely punished by the thorns of your own conscience, which this very instant taxes you with the malice and falsehood of your reproaches. As for my sister, I bless God that you have not been able to infect her with your unnatural prejudice, which, because she is too just, too virtuous, too humane to imbibe, you reject her as an alien to your blood, and turn her out unprovided into a barbarous world. But even there your vicious purpose shall be defeated: that same Providence, that screened me from the cruelty of your hate, shall extend its protection to her, until I shall find it convenient to assert by law that right of maintenance which Nature, it seems, hath bestowed upon us in vain. In the mean time, you will enjoy the satisfaction of paying an undivided attention to that darling son, whose amiable qualities have so long engaged and engrossed your love and esteem.”
The young man, hearing these unfair accusations, felt anger surge through his body, assuring the accuser that he saw her as someone to feel sorry for; “because without a doubt,” he said, “your wicked spite will be harshly judged by the guilt of your own conscience, which right now is reminding you of the malice and lies in your accusations. As for my sister, I thank God that you haven't been able to taint her with your unnatural bias, which, because she is too fair, too good-hearted, too compassionate to accept, you reject her as if she doesn’t belong to your family and cast her out into a cruel world. But even there, your malicious intent will be thwarted: that same higher power that protected me from your hateful cruelty will look out for her until I can, when the time is right, legally assert the support that nature, it seems, has granted us in vain. In the meantime, you will find satisfaction in giving your full attention to that beloved son, whose charming qualities have kept your love and admiration occupied for so long.”
This freedom of expostulation exalted his mother's ire to mere frenzy: she cursed him with the bitterest imprecations, and raved like a bedlamite at the door, which she attempted to burst open. Her efforts were seconded by her favourite son, who denounced vengeance against Peregrine, and made furious assaults against the lock, which resisted all their applications, until our hero espying his friends Gauntlet and Pipes stepping over a stile that stood about a furlong from the window, called them to his assistance: giving them to understand how he was besieged, he desired they would keep off his mother, that he might the more easily secure his sister Julia's retreat. The young soldier entered accordingly, and, posting, himself between Mrs. Pickle and the door, gave the signal to his friend, who, lifting up his sister in his arms, carried her safe without the clutches of this she-dragon, while Pipes, with his cudgel, kept young master at bay.
This freedom to speak up infuriated his mother to the point of frenzy: she cursed him with the harshest insults and shouted like a madwoman at the door, which she tried to break down. Her efforts were supported by her favorite son, who threatened revenge against Peregrine and made fierce attempts to force the lock, which resisted all their efforts, until our hero spotted his friends Gauntlet and Pipes stepping over a fence about a furrow away from the window. He called for their help: explaining how he was trapped, he asked them to hold off his mother so he could help his sister Julia escape more easily. The young soldier came in right away, positioning himself between Mrs. Pickle and the door, signaling to his friend, who picked up his sister in his arms and carried her safely away from the grasp of this she-dragon, while Pipes kept the young master at bay with his stick.
The mother, being thus deprived of her prey, sprang upon Gauntlet like a lioness robbed of her whelps; and he must have suffered sorely in the flesh, had he not prevented her mischievous intent by seizing both her wrists, and so keeping her at due distance. In attempting to disengage herself from his grasp, she struggled with such exertion, and suffered such agony of passion at the same time, that she actually fell into a severe fit, during which she was put to bed, and the confederates retired without further molestation.
The mother, feeling like a lioness robbed of her cubs, jumped at Gauntlet in desperation. He must have been in serious pain if he hadn’t stopped her by grabbing both her wrists and keeping her at a safe distance. As she tried to break free from his hold, she struggled intensely and felt overwhelming emotions, causing her to fall into a severe fit. During this time, she was put to bed, and the others left without causing any more trouble.
In the mean time, Peregrine was not a little perplexed about the disposal of his sister, whom he had rescued. He could not endure the thoughts of saddling the commodore with a new expense; and he was afraid of undertaking the charge of Julia, without his benefactor's advice and direction: for the present, however, he carried her to the house of a gentleman in the neighbourhood, whose lady was her godmother, where she was received with great tenderness and condolence; and he purposed to inquire for some creditable house, where she might be genteelly boarded in his absence; resolving to maintain her from the savings of his own allowance, which he thought might very well bear such reduction. But this intention was frustrated by the publication of the whole affair, which was divulged next day, and soon reached the ears of Trunnion, who chid his godson for having concealed the adventure; and, with the approbation of his wife, ordered him to bring Julia forthwith to the garrison. The young gentleman, with tears of gratitude in his eyes, explained his design of maintaining her at his own expense, and earnestly begged that he might not be deprived of that satisfaction. But his uncle was deaf to all his entreaties, and insisted upon her living in the garrison, though for no other reason than that of being company to her aunt, who, he observed, was lost for want of conversation.
In the meantime, Peregrine was quite confused about what to do with his sister, whom he had rescued. He couldn’t stand the thought of burdening the commodore with another expense, and he was hesitant to take charge of Julia without his benefactor’s advice and guidance. For the moment, he took her to the home of a local gentleman, whose wife was her godmother, where she was welcomed with great kindness and sympathy. He planned to find a respectable place where she could be comfortably boarded during his absence, intending to support her with his savings, which he believed could accommodate such a reduction. However, this plan was derailed when the entire situation was made public the next day and quickly reached Trunnion's ears. Trunnion scolded his godson for keeping the incident a secret and, with his wife’s approval, insisted that he bring Julia to the garrison right away. The young man, with tears of gratitude in his eyes, explained his intention to support her on his own and passionately pleaded not to be deprived of that fulfillment. But his uncle ignored all his pleas and insisted that she live at the garrison, solely because he felt she would provide company for her aunt, who, he noted, was feeling lost without conversation.
Julia was accordingly brought home, and settled under the tuition of Mrs. Trunnion, who, whatever face she might put on the matter, could have dispensed with the society of her niece, though she was not without hope of gratifying her pique to Mrs. Pickle, by the intelligence she would receive from the daughter of that lady's economy and domestic behaviour. The mother herself seemed conscious of this advantage which her sister-in-law had now gained over her, being as much chagrined at the news of Julia's reception in the garrison, as if she had heard of her own husband's death. She even tortured her invention to propagate calumnies against the reputation of her own daughter, whom she slandered in all companies; she exclaimed against the commodore as an old ruffian, who spirited up rebellion among her children, and imputed the hospitality of his wife, in countenancing them, to nothing else but her inveterate enmity to their mother, whom they had disobliged. She now insisted, in the most peremptory terms, upon her husband's renouncing all commerce with the old lad of the castle and his adherents; and Mr. Gamaliel, having by this time contracted other friendships, readily submitted to her will; nay, even refused to communicate with the commodore one night, when they happened to meet by accident at the public-house.
Julia was brought home and placed under the care of Mrs. Trunnion, who, no matter how she tried to hide it, would have preferred to be without her niece, though she was hopeful of getting back at Mrs. Pickle through the information she would get about that lady’s skills in managing her household. The mother herself seemed aware of the advantage her sister-in-law had gained over her; she was just as upset about the news of Julia being welcomed into the garrison as if she had just learned of her husband’s death. She even went so far as to come up with lies to damage her own daughter's reputation, slandering her in every social circle. She condemned the commodore as a rogue who stirred up rebellion among her children and claimed that his wife's hospitality in supporting them was simply due to her deep-seated hatred for their mother, whom they had offended. She now insisted, in the strongest terms, that her husband cut all ties with the old man at the castle and his followers; Mr. Gamaliel, having formed new friendships by then, willingly complied with her wishes; in fact, he even avoided speaking to the commodore one night when they coincidentally ran into each other at the pub.
CHAPTER XXXII.
The Commodore sends a Challenge to Gamaliel, and is imposed upon by a waggish invention of the Lieutenant, Peregrine, and Gauntlet.
The Commodore challenges Gamaliel, and is tricked by a clever scheme from the Lieutenant, Peregrine, and Gauntlet.
This affront Trunnion could by no means digest: he advised with the lieutenant upon the subject; and the result of their consultation was a defiance which the old commander sent to Pickle, demanding that he would meet him at such a place on horseback with a brace of pistols, and give satisfaction for the slight he had put upon him. Nothing could have afforded more pleasure to Jack than the acceptance of this challenge, which he delivered verbally to Mr. Gamaliel, who was called out from the club at Tunley's for that purpose. The nature of this message had an instantaneous effect upon the constitution of the pacific Pickle, whose bowels yearned with apprehension, and underwent such violent agitation on the spot, that one would have thought the operation proceeded from some severe joke of the apothecary which he had swallowed in his beer.
This insult was something Trunnion couldn’t accept. He consulted with the lieutenant about it, and their discussion led to a challenge that the old commander sent to Pickle, demanding that he meet him at a specific place on horseback with a couple of pistols to settle the score for the slight he had experienced. Nothing could bring Jack more joy than hearing that this challenge was accepted, which he communicated verbally to Mr. Gamaliel, who was called out from the club at Tunley's for that purpose. The nature of this message instantly affected the usually calm Pickle, whose stomach churned with anxiety, and he experienced such intense agitation on the spot that it seemed like the result of some serious joke from the apothecary that he had ingested with his beer.
The messenger, despairing of a satisfactory answer, left him in this woeful condition; and being loath to lose any opportunity of raising the laugh against the commodore, went immediately and communicated the whole affair to the young gentlemen, entreating them, for the love of God, to concert some means of bringing old Hannibal into the field. The two friends relished the proposal; and after some deliberation, it was resolved that Hatchway should tell Trunnion his invitation was accepted by Gamaliel, who would meet him at the place appointed, with his second, to-morrow in the twilight, because, if either should fall, the other would have the chance of escaping in the dark; that Godfrey should personate old Pickle's friend, and Peregrine represent his own father; while the lieutenant should take care in loading the pistols to keep out the shot, so that no damage might be done in the rencounter.
The messenger, frustrated with not getting a decent answer, left him in this sad state; and not wanting to miss a chance to make fun of the commodore, he immediately told the young men everything, pleading with them, for heaven's sake, to come up with a way to get old Hannibal into the mix. The two friends liked the idea; and after some thought, they decided that Hatchway should tell Trunnion that Gamaliel had accepted his invitation and would meet him at the designated spot tomorrow at twilight, since if either one fell, the other would have a chance to escape in the dark; that Godfrey would pretend to be old Pickle's friend, and Peregrine would act as his father; while the lieutenant would make sure to load the pistols without any bullets, so no one would get hurt in the duel.
These circumstances being adjusted, the lieutenant returned to his principal with a most thundering reply from his antagonist, whose courageous behaviour, though it could not intimidate, did not fail to astonish the commodore, who ascribed it to the spirit of his wife, which had inspired him. Trunnion that instant desired his counsellor to prepare his cartridge-box, and order the quietest horse in the stable to be kept ready saddled for the occasion; his eye seemed to lighten with alacrity and pleasure at the prospect of smelling gunpowder once more before his death; and when Jack advised him to make his will, in case of accident, he rejected his counsel with disdain, saying, “What! dost thou think that Hawser Trunnion, who has stood the fire of so many floating batteries, runs any risk from the lousy pops of a landman? Thou shalt see, thou shalt see, how I'll make him lower his topsails.”
Once everything was sorted out, the lieutenant returned to his boss with a booming response from his opponent. The guy’s brave behavior, while it didn’t scare the commodore, definitely surprised him. The commodore figured it was because of the spirit of his wife that had inspired him. Right then, Trunnion told his advisor to get his cartridge box ready and to have the calmest horse in the stable saddled up for the occasion. His eyes lit up with excitement and joy at the thought of smelling gunpowder again before he died. When Jack suggested he should write a will just in case something happened, Trunnion dismissed the idea with contempt, saying, “What? Do you think Hawser Trunnion, who's faced the fire from so many floating batteries, has anything to fear from the lousy shots of a land guy? Just wait and see, just wait and see how I’ll make him lower his sails.”
Next day Peregrine and the soldier provided themselves with horses at the public-house, from whence, at the destined hour, they rode to the field of battle, each of them being muffed in a great coat, which, with the dimness of the light, effectually shielded them from the knowledge of the one-eyed commander, who, having taken horse, on pretence of enjoying the fresh air, soon appeared with Hatchway in his rear. When they came within sight of each other, the seconds advanced, in order to divide the ground, and regulate the measures of the combat; when it was determined by mutual consent, that two pistols should be discharged on each side, and that if neither should prove decisive, recourse must be had to the broad-swords, in order to ascertain the victory. These articles being settled, the opponents rode forward to their respective stations, when Peregrine, cocking his pistol, and presenting, counterfeited his father's voice, bidding Trunnion take care of his remaining eye.
The next day, Peregrine and the soldier got horses at the pub, and at the scheduled time, they rode to the battlefield, both bundled up in long coats that, along with the dim light, kept them hidden from the one-eyed commander, who had mounted his horse under the pretense of enjoying the fresh air, and soon appeared with Hatchway behind him. When they were close enough to see each other, the seconds stepped forward to mark the ground and set the rules for the duel. It was agreed that each side would fire two pistols, and if that didn't decide the outcome, they would switch to swords to determine the winner. Once these terms were agreed upon, the opponents rode to their respective positions. Peregrine, cocking his pistol and aiming it, mimicked his father's voice, telling Trunnion to watch out for his remaining eye.
The commodore took his advice, being unwilling to hazard his daylight, and very deliberately opposed the patched side of his face to the muzzle of his antagonist's piece, desiring him to do his duty without farther jaw. The young man accordingly fired; and the distance being small, the wad of his pistol took place with a smart stroke on the forehead of Trunnion. Mistaking it for a ball, which he thought lodged in his brain, spurred up his steed in a state of desperation towards his antagonist, and holding his piece within two yards of his body, let it off, without any regard to the laws of battle. Surprised and enraged to see it had made no impression, he halloed, in a terrible tone, “O! d-ye, you have your netting stuffed, I see;” and advancing, he discharged his second pistol so near his godson's head, that had he not been defended by his great coat, the powder must have scorched his face. Having thus thrown away his fire, he remained at the mercy of Peregrine, who clapping the piece he had in reserve to his head, commanded him to beg his life, and ask pardon for his presumption. The commodore made no reply to this imperious injunction; but, dropping his pistol, and unsheathing his broad-sword in an instant, attacked our hero with such incredible agility, that if he had not made shift to ward off the stroke with his piece, the adventure, in all likelihood, would have turned out a very tragical joke.
The commodore took his advice, not wanting to risk his daylight, and very deliberately turned the patched side of his face toward the barrel of his opponent's gun, asking him to do his duty without any more talk. The young man fired, and since the distance was short, the wad from his pistol hit Trunnion hard on the forehead. Thinking it was a bullet lodged in his brain, he urged his horse forward in a fit of desperation toward his opponent, aiming his gun just two yards away and firing without any regard for the rules of combat. Shocked and angry to see it had no effect, he shouted in a furious tone, “Oh! I see you have your netting stuffed;” and stepping closer, he fired his second pistol so near his godson’s head that if he hadn’t been protected by his great coat, the powder would have scorched his face. After wasting his shots, he found himself at the mercy of Peregrine, who pressed the gun he had in reserve against his head and commanded him to beg for his life and apologize for his arrogance. The commodore didn’t respond to this commanding demand; instead, he dropped his pistol and quickly unsheathed his broad sword, attacking our hero with such incredible speed that if he hadn’t managed to block the blow with his gun, the situation would likely have ended in a very tragic way.
Peregrine finding it would be in vain for him to think of drawing his weapon, or of standing on the defensive against this furious aggressor, very fairly clapped spurs to his nag, and sought his safety in flight. Trunnion pursued him with infinite eagerness; and his steed being the better of the two, would have overtaken the fugitive to his peril, had he not been unfortunately encountered by the boughs of a tree, that happened to stand on his blind side, and incommoded him so much, that he was fain to quit his sword, and lay hold on the mane in order to maintain his seat. Perry perceiving his disaster, wheeled about, and now finding leisure to produce his weapon, returned upon his disarmed foe, brandishing his Ferrara, threatening to make him shorter by the head if he would not immediately crave quarter and yield. There was nothing farther from the intention of the old gentleman than such submission, which he flatly refused to pay, alleging that he had already compelled his enemy to clap on all sails, and that his own present misfortune was owing to accident; all one as if a ship should be attacked, after she had been obliged to heave her guns overboard in a storm.
Peregrine realized it would be pointless to think about drawing his weapon or standing up against this furious attacker, so he quickly spurred his horse and sought safety in flight. Trunnion chased him with great eagerness; and since his horse was faster, he would have caught up to Peregrine, putting him in danger, if he hadn’t unfortunately run into the branches of a tree that he couldn’t see, which disrupted him so much that he had to drop his sword and grab onto the mane to stay in the saddle. Perry noticed his predicament, turned around, and now with the time to draw his weapon, charged back at his disarmed opponent, waving his Ferrara and threatening to behead him if he didn’t immediately ask for mercy and surrender. The old gentleman had no intention of yielding; he flatly refused, claiming that he had already forced his enemy to run for it and that his current misfortune was just bad luck; it was like a ship being attacked after it had to throw its cannons overboard in a storm.
Before Peregrine had time to answer this remonstrance, the lieutenant interposed, and taking cognizance of the case, established a truce, until he and the other second should discuss and decide upon the merits of the case. They accordingly retired to a small distance; and after having conferred a few minutes, Hatchway returned and pronounced the commodore vanquished by the chance of war.
Before Peregrine could respond to this complaint, the lieutenant stepped in, acknowledged the situation, and called for a temporary halt until he and the other second could talk it over and make a decision on the merits of the case. They moved a short distance away and after conferring for a few minutes, Hatchway came back and announced that the commodore had been defeated by the luck of the draw.
Never was rage more than that which took possession of old Hannibal, when he heard the sentence: it was some time before he could utter aught, except the reproachful expression, “You lie!” which he repeated more than twenty times, in a sort of delirious insensibility. When he recovered the further use of speech, he abused the arbitrators with such bitter invectives, renouncing their sentence, and appealing to another trial, that the confederates began to repent of having carried the joke so far; and Peregrine, in order to appease his choler, owned himself overcome.
Never was rage more intense than what took hold of old Hannibal when he heard the verdict: it took him some time to say anything except the accusatory phrase, “You’re lying!” which he repeated over twenty times in a sort of feverish madness. When he regained his ability to speak, he unleashed such harsh insults at the judges, rejecting their decision and demanding a new trial, that the allies started to regret having taken the joke this far; and Peregrine, to calm him down, admitted that he was defeated.
This acknowledgment calmed the tumult of his wrath, though he could not for some days forgive the lieutenant; and the two young gentlemen rode back to Tunley's, while Hatchway, taking the commodore's horse by the bridle, reconducted him to his mansion, growling all the way to Jack for his unjust and unfriendly decree; though he could not help observing, as how he had made his words good, in making his adversary to strike his top-sails: “And yet,” said he, “before God! I think the fellow's head is made of a wood-pack: for my shot rebounded from his face like a wad of spun-yarn from the walls of a ship. But if so be that son of a b— of a tree hadn't come athwart my weather-bow, d'ye see, I'll be d—d if I hadn't snapt his main-yard in the slings, and mayhap let out his bulge-water into the bargain.” He seemed particularly vain of this exploit, which dwelt upon his imagination, and was cherished as the child of his old age; for though he could not with decency rehearse it to the young men and his wife at supper, he gave hints of his own manhood, even at these years, and attested Hatchway as a voucher for his mettle; while the triumvirate, diverted by his vanity, enjoyed in secret the success of their imposition.
This acknowledgment eased his anger, though he couldn't forgive the lieutenant for a few days; the two young men rode back to Tunley's, while Hatchway, leading the commodore's horse, took him back to his house, grumbling to Jack about his unfair and unfriendly decision. He couldn't help noting how he had proved his point by making his opponent back down: “And yet,” he said, “I swear! I think the guy's head is made of stubborn wood; my shot bounced off his face like a piece of yarn off the walls of a ship. But if that son of a b— tree hadn't crossed my path, I swear I would have snapped his main-yard, and maybe even let out his excess water too.” He seemed particularly proud of this feat, which stayed on his mind and felt like the highlight of his old age; although he couldn't appropriately recount it to the young men and his wife at dinner, he dropped hints about his own toughness, even at this age, and called on Hatchway to back him up regarding his courage. Meanwhile, the trio, amused by his pride, secretly enjoyed the success of their prank.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Peregrine takes leave of his Aunt and Sister—Sets out from the Garrison-Parts with his Uncle and Hatchway on the Road, and with his Governor arrives in safety at Dover.
Peregrine says goodbye to his Aunt and Sister—leaves the Garrison—parts ways with his Uncle and Hatchway on the road, and safely arrives in Dover with his Governor.
This, however, was the last effort of invention which they practised upon him; and everything being now prepared for the departure of his godson, that hopeful youth in two days took leave of all his friends in the neighbourhood. He was closeted two whole hours with his aunt, who enriched him with many pious advices, recapitulated all the benefits which, through her means, had been conferred upon him since his infancy, cautioned him against the temptations of lewd women, who bring many a man to a morsel of bread, laid strict injunctions upon him to live in the fear of the Lord and the true Protestant faith, to eschew quarrels and contention, to treat Mr. Jolter with reverence and regard, and above all things to abstain from the beastly sin of drunkenness, which exposes a man to the scorn and contempt of his fellow-creatures, and, by divesting him of reason and reflection, renders him fit for all manner of vice and debauchery. She recommended to him economy, and the care of his health, bade him remember the honour of his family, and in all the circumstances of his behaviour, assured him that he might always depend upon the friendship and generosity of the commodore. Finally, presenting him with her own picture set in gold, and a hundred guineas from her privy purse, she embraced him affectionately, and wished him all manner of happiness and prosperity.
This was the last invention they tried on him; with everything now ready for his godson's departure, that promising young man said goodbye to all his friends in the neighborhood in just two days. He spent two full hours alone with his aunt, who gave him a lot of spiritual advice, reminded him of all the benefits she had provided for him since he was a child, warned him about the temptations of immoral women, who lead many men to ruin, insisted that he live in the fear of the Lord and uphold the true Protestant faith, avoid fights and arguments, treat Mr. Jolter with respect, and above all, steer clear of the terrible sin of drunkenness, which brings shame and contempt from others and can strip a man of reason and judgement, making him open to all kinds of vice and corruption. She advised him to be frugal and take care of his health, told him to remember his family's honor, and assured him that he could always rely on the friendship and generosity of the commodore in all situations. Finally, giving him her own picture set in gold and a hundred guineas from her personal funds, she hugged him warmly and wished him happiness and success.
Being thus kindly dismissed by Mrs. Trunnion, he locked himself up with his sister Julia, whom he admonished to cultivate her aunt with the most complaisant and respectful attention, without stooping to any circumstance of submission that she should judge unworthy of her practice: he protested that his chief study should be to make her amends for the privilege she had forfeited by her affection for him; entreated her to enter into no engagement without his knowledge and approbation; put into her hand the purse, which he had received from his aunt, to defray her pocket expenses in his absence; and parted from her, not without tears, after she had for some minutes hung about his neck, kissing him, and weeping in the most pathetic silence.
Being kindly dismissed by Mrs. Trunnion, he locked himself in with his sister Julia, whom he urged to treat their aunt with the utmost kindness and respect, without lowering herself to any submission she deemed beneath her. He promised that his main focus would be to make it up to her for the favor she had lost because of her affection for him. He asked her not to make any commitments without his knowledge and approval, handed her the purse he had gotten from their aunt to cover her expenses while he was gone, and said goodbye to her, not without tears, after she spent several moments hugging him, kissing him, and crying silently in a heartfelt way.
Having performed these duties of affection and consanguinity over-night, he went to bed, and was, by his own direction, called at four o'clock in the morning, when he found the post-chaise, coach, and riding-horses ready at the gate, his friends Gauntlet and Hatchway on foot, the commodore himself almost dressed, and every servant in the garrison assembled in he yard to wish him a good journey. Our hero shook each of these humble friends by the hand, tipping them at the same time with marks of his bounty; and was very much surprised when he could not perceive his old attendant Pipes among the number. When he expressed his wonder at this disrespectful omission of Tom, some of those present ran to his chamber, in order to give him a call; but his hammock and room were both deserted, and they soon returned with an account of his having eloped. Peregrine was disturbed at this information, believing that the fellow had taken some desperate course, in consequence of his being dismissed from his service, and began to wish that he had indulged his inclination, by retaining him still about his person. However, as there was now no other remedy, he recommended him strenuously to the particular favour and distinction of his uncle and Hatchway, in case he should appear again; and as he went out of the gate, was saluted with three cheers by all the domestics in the family.
After taking care of family duties overnight, he went to bed and, as he planned, was called at four in the morning. When he woke up, he found the post-chaise, coach, and riding horses ready at the gate, with his friends Gauntlet and Hatchway on foot, the commodore nearly dressed, and every servant in the garrison gathered in the yard to wish him a safe journey. Our hero shook hands with each of these loyal friends, generously tipping them as he did so, and was surprised not to see his old attendant Pipes among them. When he expressed his confusion over Tom's absence, some of the group rushed to his room to fetch him, but they quickly returned with news that he had run away. Peregrine was worried by this news, fearing that the man might have taken some extreme measures after being dismissed, and began to wish he had kept him around. However, since there was nothing else to be done, he urged his uncle and Hatchway to give Tom special attention and help if he showed up again. As he left the gate, all the household staff cheered him with three loud cheers.
The commodore, Gauntlet, lieutenant, Peregrine, and Jolter went into the coach together, that they might enjoy each other's conversation as much as possible, resolving to breakfast at an inn upon the road, where Trunnion and Hatchway intended to bid our adventurer farewell; the Valet-de-chambre got into the post-chaise; the French lacquey rode one horse, and led another; one of the valets of the garrison mounted at the back of the coach; and thus the cavalcade set out on the road to Dover.
The commodore, Gauntlet, Lieutenant Peregrine, and Jolter all got into the coach together so they could enjoy each other's company as much as possible. They planned to have breakfast at an inn along the way, where Trunnion and Hatchway would say goodbye to our adventurer. The valet de chambre climbed into the post-chaise, the French servant rode one horse and led another, and one of the garrison's valets mounted the back of the coach. With that, the group set off on the road to Dover.
As the commodore could not bear the fatigue of jolting, they travelled at an easy pace during the first stage; so that the old gentleman had an opportunity of communicating his exhortations to his godson, with regard to his conduct abroad: he advised him, now that he was going into foreign parts, to be upon his guard against the fair weather of the French politesse, which was no more to be trusted than a whirlpool at sea. He observed that many young men had gone to Paris with good cargoes of sense, and returned with a great deal of canvas, and no ballast at all, whereby they became crank all the days of their lives, and sometimes carried their keels above water. He desired Mr. Jolter to keep his pupil out of the clutches of those sharking priests who lie in wait to make converts of all young strangers, and in a particular manner cautioned the youth against carnal conversation with the Parisian dames, who, he understood, were no better than gaudy fire-ships ready primed with death and destruction.
As the commodore couldn’t handle the jarring ride, they took it easy during the first part of their journey. This gave the old gentleman a chance to share his advice with his godson about how to behave abroad. He warned him, now that he was heading to foreign places, to be cautious of the charm of French politeness, which was just as unreliable as a whirlpool at sea. He noted that many young men had gone to Paris filled with good sense and returned with plenty of show but no substance, leading them to be unsteady for the rest of their lives, and sometimes even to struggle just to stay afloat. He instructed Mr. Jolter to keep his pupil away from those predatory priests who lurk around looking to convert young newcomers and specifically warned the young man against romantic encounters with the Parisian women, who, he believed, were nothing more than flashy ships ready to bring death and chaos.
Peregrine listened with great respect, thanking him for his kind admonitions, which he faithfully promised to observe. The halted and breakfasted at the end of the stage, where Jolter provided himself with a horse, and the commodore settled the method of corresponding with his nephew. The minute of parting being arrived, the old commander wrung his godson by the hand, saying, “I wish thee a prosperous voyage and good cheer, my lad: my timbers are now a little crazy, d'ye see; and God knows if I shall keep afloat till such time as I see thee again; but howsomever, hap what will, thou wilt find thyself in a condition to keep in the line with the rest of thy fellows.” He then reminded Gauntlet of his promise to call at the garrison in his return from Dover, and imparted something in a whisper to the governor, while Jack Hatchway, unable to speak, pulled his hat over his eyes, and, squeezing Peregrine by the hand, gave him a pistol of curious workmanship, as a memorial of his friendship. Our youth, who was not unmoved on this occasion, received the pledge, which he acknowledged with the present of a tobacco-box bought for this purpose; and the two lads of the castle getting into the coach, were driven homewards, in a state of silent dejection.
Peregrine listened attentively, thanking him for his thoughtful advice, which he promised to follow. They stopped for breakfast at the end of the stage, where Jolter got a horse, and the commodore arranged how to stay in touch with his nephew. When it was time to part, the old commander shook his godson's hand and said, “I wish you a successful voyage and good luck, my boy: my health is a bit shaky, you see; and God knows if I’ll still be here by the time I see you again; but no matter what happens, you'll be ready to keep up with the others.” He then reminded Gauntlet of his promise to stop by the garrison on his way back from Dover and shared something privately with the governor. Meanwhile, Jack Hatchway, unable to speak, pulled his hat down over his eyes and, gripping Peregrine's hand, gifted him a beautifully crafted pistol as a token of their friendship. Peregrine, who was touched by the moment, accepted the gift and returned it with a tobacco box he had bought for this occasion. The two boys from the castle then got into the coach and were driven home in silence, feeling downcast.
Godfrey and Peregrine seated themselves in the post-chaise; and Jolter, the valet-de-chambre, and lacquey, bestriding their beasts, they proceeded for the place of their destination, at which they arrived in safety that same night, and bespoke a passage in the packet-boat which was to sail next day.
Godfrey and Peregrine got into the carriage, and Jolter, the valet and servant, mounted their horses, and they made their way to their destination, arriving safely that same night. They booked a spot on the packet boat that was set to leave the next day.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
He adjusts the Method of his Correspondence with Gauntlet; meets by accident with an Italian Charlatan, and a certain Apothecary, who proves to be a noted Character.
He changes how he communicates with Gauntlet; runs into an Italian con artist by chance, and a particular apothecary, who turns out to be a well-known figure.
There the two friends adjusted the articles of a future correspondence; and Peregrine, having written a letter to his mistress, wherein he renewed his former vows of eternal fidelity, it was intrusted to the care of her brother, while Mr. Jolter, at the desire of his pupil, provided an elegant supper, and some excellent Burgundy, that they might spend this eve of his departure with the greater enjoyment.
There the two friends prepared for future correspondence; and Peregrine, having written a letter to his girlfriend, in which he reaffirmed his past promises of eternal loyalty, gave it to her brother to deliver, while Mr. Jolter, at his pupil's request, arranged a nice dinner and some excellent Burgundy, so they could enjoy this evening before his departure even more.
Things being thus disposed, and a servant employed in laying the cloth, their ears were of a sudden invaded by a strange tumultuous noise in the next room, occasioned by the overthrow of tables, chairs, and glasses, with odd unintelligible exclamations in broken French, and a jargon of threats in the Welsh dialect. Our young gentlemen ran immediately into the apartment from whence this clamour seemed to proceed, and found a thin, meagre, swarthy figure, gasping, in all the agony of fear, under the hands of a squat, thick, hard-featured man, who collared him with great demonstrations of wrath, saying, “If you was as mighty a magician as Owen Glendower or the witch of Entor, look you, ay, ay, or as Paul Beor himself, I will meke pold, by the assistance of Got, and in his majesty's name, to seize and secure, and confine and confront you, until such time as you suffer and endure and undergo the pains and penalties of the law, for your diabolical practices. Shentlements,” added he, turning to our adventurers, “I take you to witness, that I protest, and assert, and avow, that this person is as pig a necromancer as you would desire to behold; and I supplicate, and beseech, and entreat of you, that he may be prought pefore his petters, and compelled to give an account of his compact and commerce with the imps of darkness, look you; for, as I am a Christian soul, and hope for joyful resurrection, I have this plessed evening seen him perform such things as could not be done without the aid and instruction and connivance of the tevil.”
With things set up and a servant busy laying the table, they were suddenly interrupted by a loud, chaotic noise from the next room, caused by tables, chairs, and glasses being knocked over, along with strange, incomprehensible shouts in broken French and a mix of threats in Welsh. The young men quickly rushed into the room where the noise was coming from and found a thin, weak-looking man, gasping in fear, being restrained by a short, stocky, stern-looking man, who had him by the collar and was shouting angrily, “Even if you were as powerful a magician as Owen Glendower or the witch of Entor, just know this: I, with God's assistance and in his majesty's name, will boldly seize, secure, confine, and confront you until you face the full consequences of the law for your wicked practices. Gentlemen,” he added, turning to our heroes, “I ask you to witness that I declare, assert, and swear that this man is the best necromancer you'd ever want to see; and I beg you to bring him before his accusers and make him answer for his dealings with the forces of darkness, because, as God is my witness, and I hope for a joyful resurrection, I have seen him do things this evening that could not be possible without the help and guidance of the devil.”
Gauntlet seemed to enter into the sentiments of this Welsh reformer, and actually laid hold on the delinquent's shoulder, crying, “D—n the rascal! I'll lay any wager that he's a Jesuit; for none of his order travel without a familiar.” But Peregrine, who looked upon the affair in another point of view, interposed in behalf of the stranger, whom he freed from his aggressors, observing, that there was no occasion to use violence; and asked, in French, what he had done to incur the censure of the informer. The poor foreigner, more dead than alive, answered that he was an Italian charlatan, who had practised with some reputation in Padua, until he had the misfortune to attract the notice of the Inquisition, by exhibiting certain wonderful performances by his skill in natural knowledge, which that tribunal considered as the effects of sorcery, and persecuted him accordingly; so that he had been fain to make a precipitate retreat into France, where not finding his account in his talents, he was now arrived in England, with a view of practising his art in London; and that, in consequence of a specimen which he had given to a company below, the choleric gentleman had followed him up-stairs to his own apartment, and assaulted him in that inhospitable manner: he therefore earnestly begged that our hero would take him under his protection; and, if he entertained the least suspicion of his employing preternatural means in the operations of his art, he would freely communicate all the secrets in his possession.
Gauntlet seemed to connect with the feelings of this Welsh reformer and actually grabbed the delinquent by the shoulder, exclaiming, “Damn the scoundrel! I’ll bet anything that he’s a Jesuit; none of their kind travel without an accomplice.” But Peregrine, who saw the situation differently, stepped in to defend the stranger, freeing him from his attackers. He noted that there was no need for violence and asked in French what the stranger had done to deserve the informer's wrath. The poor foreigner, looking more dead than alive, explained that he was an Italian fraud who had gained some fame in Padua until he unfortunately caught the eye of the Inquisition. They took his impressive tricks, which came from his knowledge of natural science, as acts of sorcery and persecuted him for it. As a result, he had to make a hasty escape to France, where he couldn’t find success with his skills. He had now arrived in England, hoping to practice his art in London. He explained that after demonstrating a trick to a group downstairs, the angry gentleman had followed him upstairs to his room and attacked him in such an unwelcoming way. He earnestly begged Peregrine to take him under his protection, promising that if there was any suspicion about him using supernatural methods in his performances, he would gladly share all the secrets he knew.
The youth dispelled his apprehension by assuring him that he was in no danger of suffering for his art in England, where, if ever he should be questioned by the zeal of superstitious individuals, he had nothing to do but appeal to the justice of the peace, who would immediately acquit him of the charge, and punish his accusers for their impertinence and indiscretion.
The young man calmed his fears by assuring him that he was not at risk of facing any consequences for his art in England, where, if he were ever confronted by the fervor of superstitious people, all he had to do was turn to the justice of the peace, who would quickly clear him of any accusation and penalize his accusers for their rudeness and foolishness.
He then told Gauntlet and the Welshman that the stranger had a good action against them for an assault, by virtue of an Act of Parliament, which makes it criminal for any person to accuse another of sorcery and witchcraft, these idle notions being now justly exploded by all sensible men. Mr. Jolter, who had by this time joined the company, could not help signifying his dissent from this opinion of his pupil, which he endeavoured to invalidate by the authority of Scripture, quotations from the Fathers, and the confession of many wretches who suffered death for having carried on correspondence with evil spirits together with the evidence of “Satan's Invisible World,” and Moreton's “History of Witchcraft.”
He then told Gauntlet and the Welshman that the stranger had a solid case against them for assault, thanks to an Act of Parliament that makes it illegal for anyone to accuse another of sorcery and witchcraft, since these silly ideas have now been rightly debunked by sensible people. Mr. Jolter, who had by this time joined the group, couldn't help but express his disagreement with his pupil's opinion, which he tried to challenge using Scripture, quotes from the Church Fathers, and the confessions of many unfortunate people who were executed for having dealings with evil spirits, along with the evidence from "Satan's Invisible World" and Moreton's "History of Witchcraft."
The soldier corroborated these testimonies by facts that had happened within the sphere of his own knowledge, and in particular mentioned the case of an old woman of the parish in which he was born, who used to transform herself into the shapes of sundry animals, and was at last killed by small shot in the character of a hare. The Welshman, thus supported, expressed his surprise at hearing that the legislature had shown such tenderness for criminals of so dark a hue, and offered to prove, by undeniable instances, that there was not a mountain in Wales which had not been, in his memory, the scene of necromancy and witchcraft. “Wherefore,” said he, “I am assuredly more than above astonished and confounded and concerned that the Parliament of Great Britain should, in their great wisdoms, and their prudence, and their penetration, give countenance and encouragement, look you, to the works of darkness and the empire of Pelzepup—ofer and apove the evidence of holy writ, and those writers who have been quoted by that aggurate and learned shentleman, we are informed, by profane history, of the pribbles and pranks of the old serpent, in the bortents and oragles of antiquity, as you will find in that most excellent historian Bolypius, and Titus Lifius; ay, and moreofer, in the Commentaries of Julius Caesar himself, who, as the ole world knows, was a most famous, and a most faliant, and a most wise, and a most prudent, and a most fortunate chieftain, and a most renowned orator; ay, and a most elegant writer to boot.”
The soldier backed up these testimonies with facts he knew personally and specifically mentioned a case of an old woman from his hometown who could change into different animals. She was ultimately shot and killed while in the form of a hare. The Welshman, thus supported, expressed his surprise that the legislature would show such leniency towards criminals of such a dark nature. He offered to prove, with undeniable examples, that there wasn’t a mountain in Wales that hadn’t, in his lifetime, been a site of necromancy and witchcraft. “Therefore,” he said, “I am truly more than astonished and confused and concerned that the Parliament of Great Britain, in their great wisdom, prudence, and insight, would support and encourage the works of darkness and the realm of evil—regardless of the evidence in holy scripture and the writings quoted by that accurate and learned gentleman. We know from profane history about the tricks and schemes of the old serpent throughout the ages, as you can find in the excellent historian Polybius, and Titus Livius; yes, and furthermore, in the Commentaries of Julius Caesar himself, who, as the world knows, was a most famous, brave, wise, prudent, fortunate leader, and a renowned orator; yes, and a highly skilled writer to boot.”
Peregrine did not think proper to enter the lists of dispute with three such obstinate antagonists, but contented himself with saying that he believed it would be no difficult matter to impugn the arguments they had advanced; though he did not find himself at all disposed to undertake the task, which must of course break in upon the evening's entertainment. He therefore invited the Italian to supper, and asked the same favour of his accuser, who seemed to have something curious and characteristic in his manner and disposition, resolving to make himself an eye-witness of those surprising feats which had given offence to the choleric Briton. This scrupulous gentleman thanked our hero for his courtesy, but declined communicating with the stranger until his character should be further explained; upon which his inviter, after some conversation with the charlatan, assured him that he would himself undertake for the innocence of his art; and then he was prevailed upon to favour them with his company.
Peregrine didn't think it was appropriate to engage in a debate with three such stubborn opponents, so he settled for saying that he believed it wouldn't be hard to challenge their arguments; however, he wasn't at all inclined to take on that task, as it would interrupt the evening's enjoyment. He then invited the Italian to dinner and extended the same invitation to his accuser, who seemed to have a curious and distinctive manner, deciding he wanted to witness the surprising feats that had upset the hot-headed Brit. This cautious gentleman thanked Peregrine for his kindness but refused to interact with the stranger until he learned more about his character; upon which Peregrine, after some conversation with the charlatan, assured him that he would vouch for the innocence of the man's craft, and he was then convinced to join them.
In the course of the conversation, Peregrine learned that the Welshman was a surgeon of Canterbury, who had been called in to a consultation at Dover; and, understanding that his name was Morgan, took the liberty of asking if he was not the person so respectfully mentioned in the “Adventures of Roderick Random.” Mr. Morgan assumed a look of gravity and importance at this interrogation, and, screwing up his mouth, answered, “Mr. Rantum, my good sir, I believe, upon my conscience and salfation, is my very goot frient and well-wisher; and he and I have been companions and messmates and fellow-sufferers, look you; but nevertheless, for all that, peradventure he hath not pehaved with so much complaisance and affability and respect as I might have expected from him; pecause he hath revealed and tivulged and buplished our private affairs, without my knowledge and privity and consent; but as Got is my Safiour, I think he had no evil intention in his pelly; and though there be certain persons, look you, who, as I am told, take upon them to laugh at his descriptions of my person, deportment, and conversation, I do affirm and maintain, and insist with my heart, and my plood, and my soul, that those persons are no petter than ignorant asses, and that they know not how to discern and distinguish and define true ridicule, or, as Aristotle calls it, the to Geloion, no more, look you, than a herd of mountain goats; for I will make pold to observe—and I hope this goot company will be of the same opinion—that there is nothing said of me in that performance which is unworthy of a Christian and a shentleman.”
During their conversation, Peregrine discovered that the Welshman was a surgeon from Canterbury who had been called in for a consultation in Dover. Learning that his name was Morgan, he took the liberty of asking if he was the person mentioned respectfully in the "Adventures of Roderick Random." Mr. Morgan adopted a serious and important expression at this question and, pursing his lips, replied, “Mr. Rantum, my good sir, I believe, on my honor and salvation, is my very good friend and well-wisher; we have been companions, messmates, and fellow sufferers, you see; but still, despite that, perhaps he hasn’t behaved with as much courtesy, friendliness, and respect as I might have expected from him; for he has revealed and published our private matters without my knowledge, consent, or permission; but as God is my Savior, I believe he had no malicious intent in his heart; and although there are certain people, you see, who, as I’ve been told, take it upon themselves to mock his descriptions of my appearance, behavior, and conversation, I firmly assert and maintain, with all my heart, blood, and soul, that those people are nothing but ignorant fools, who are incapable of recognizing, distinguishing, or defining true ridicule, or, as Aristotle calls it, the to Geloion, no more than a flock of mountain goats; for I am bold enough to say—and I hope this fine company agrees—that there is nothing said about me in that work which is unworthy of a Christian and a gentleman.”
Our young gentleman and his friends acquiesced in the justness of his observation. Peregrine particularly assured him that, from reading the book, he had conceived the utmost regard and veneration for his character, and that he thought himself extremely fortunate in having this opportunity of enjoying his conversation. Morgan, not a little proud of such advances from a person of Peregrine's appearance, returned the compliment with a profusion of civility, and, in the warmth of acknowledgment, expressed a desire of seeing him and his company at his house in Canterbury. “I will not pretend, or presume, kind sir,” said he, “to entertain you according to your merits and deserts; but you shall be as welcome to my poor cottage, and my wife and family, as the prince of Wales himself; and it shall go hard if, one way or other, I do not find ways and means of making you confess that there is some goot fellowship in an ancient Priton; for though I am no petter than a simple apothecary, I have as goot plood circulating in my veins as any he in the county; and I can describe and delineate and demonstrate my pedigree to the satisfaction of the 'ole 'orld; and, moreofer, by Got's goot providence and assistance, I can afford to treat my friend with joint of good mutton and a pottle of excellent wine, and no tradesman can peard me with a bill.”
Our young gentleman and his friends agreed with the validity of his observation. Peregrine especially told him that, after reading the book, he held the utmost respect and admiration for his character, and that he felt extremely fortunate to have the chance to enjoy his conversation. Morgan, feeling quite proud of such attention from someone like Peregrine, returned the compliment with an abundance of politeness and, in the heat of gratitude, expressed a desire to have him and his friends over at his house in Canterbury. “I won't pretend, or assume, kind sir,” he said, “to entertain you according to your worth; but you will be as welcome to my humble cottage, and to my wife and family, as the Prince of Wales himself; and I will find a way to make you admit that there is some good fellowship in an old Priton; for although I’m no better than a simple apothecary, I have as good blood running in my veins as anyone else in the county; I can trace and prove my ancestry to satisfy the whole world; and, furthermore, by God’s good providence and help, I can afford to treat my friend to a nice joint of mutton and a bottle of excellent wine, and no tradesman can compare his bill to mine.”
He was congratulated on his happy situation, and assured that our youth would visit him on his return from France, provided he should take Canterbury in his route. As Peregrine manifested an inclination of being acquainted with the state of his affairs, he very complaisantly satisfied his curiosity by giving him to know that his spouse had left off breeding, after having blessed him with two boys and a girl, who were still alive and well; that he lived in good esteem with his neighbors; and by his practice, which was considerably extended immediately after the publication of Roderick Random, had saved some thousand pounds. He had begun to think of retiring among his own relations in Glamorganshire, though his wife had made objection to this proposal, and opposed the execution of it with such obstinacy, that he had been at infinite pains in asserting his own prerogative by convincing her, both from reason and example, that he was king, and priest in his own family, and that she owed the most implicit submission to his will. He likewise informed the company that he had lately seen his friend Roderick, who had come from London on purpose to visit him, after having gained his lawsuit with Mr. Topeball, who was obliged to pay Narcissa's fortune; that Mr. Random, in all appearance, led a very happy life in the conversation of his father and bed-fellow, by whom he enjoyed a son and daughter; and that Morgan had received, in a present from him, a piece of very fine linen of his wife's own making, several kits of salmon, and two casks of pickled pork—the most delicate he had ever tasted; together with a barrel of excellent herrings for salmagundy, which he knew to be his favourite dish.
He was congratulated on his good fortune and assured that our youth would visit him when he returned from France, as long as he traveled through Canterbury. Since Peregrine expressed an interest in his situation, he kindly satisfied his curiosity by sharing that his wife had stopped having children after giving him two boys and a girl, all of whom were alive and well; he was held in high regard by his neighbors; and through his business, which had significantly expanded right after the release of Roderick Random, he had saved several thousand pounds. He had started to consider retiring to his family in Glamorganshire, although his wife strongly opposed this idea and resisted it so firmly that he had to put in considerable effort to assert his authority by convincing her, with both logic and examples, that he was the head of the family and that she should fully submit to his wishes. He also informed the group that he had recently seen his friend Roderick, who had come from London specifically to visit him after winning his lawsuit against Mr. Topeball, who had to pay Narcissa’s dowry; that Mr. Random seemed to be living a very happy life with his father and wife, with whom he had a son and daughter; and that Morgan had received from him a gift of very fine linen made by his wife, several kits of salmon, and two barrels of pickled pork—the best he had ever tasted; along with a barrel of excellent herring for salmagundy, which he knew was his favorite dish.
This topic of conversation being discussed, the Italian was desired to exhibit a specimen of his art, and in a few minutes he conducted the company into the next room, where, to their great astonishment and affright, they beheld a thousand serpents winding along the ceiling. Morgan, struck with this phenomenon, which he had not seen before, began to utter exorcisms with great devotion, Mr. Jolter ran of the room, Gauntlet drew his hanger, and Peregrine himself was disconcerted. The operator, perceiving their confusion, desired them to retire, and, calling them back in an instant, there was not a viper to be seen. He raised their admiration by sundry other performances and the Welshman's former opinion and abhorrence of his character began to recur, when, in consideration of the civility with which he had been treated, this Italian imparted to them all the methods by which he had acted such wonders, that were no other than the effects of natural causes curiously combined; so that Morgan became a convert to his skill, asked pardon for the suspicion he had entertained, and invited the stranger to pass a few days with him at Canterbury. The scruples of Godfrey and Jolter were removed at the same time, and Peregrine testified his satisfaction by a handsome gratuity which he bestowed upon their entertainer.
With the topic of conversation settled, the Italian was asked to show a sample of his skills, and in a few minutes, he led the group into the next room, where, to their shock and horror, they saw a thousand snakes slithering along the ceiling. Morgan, taken aback by this sight which he had never encountered before, began to recite exorcisms fervently, while Mr. Jolter hurried out of the room, Gauntlet drew his sword, and Peregrine himself was unsettled. Noticing their panic, the performer asked them to leave, and when he called them back moments later, there wasn't a single snake in sight. He amazed them with various other feats, and the Welshman's earlier judgment and disdain for him began to resurface. However, out of gratitude for the kindness he'd received, the Italian revealed all the techniques he used to create such wonders, which turned out to be the results of cleverly combined natural phenomena. This made Morgan a believer in his abilities, and he apologized for his previous suspicions, inviting the stranger to spend a few days with him in Canterbury. Godfrey and Jolter’s doubts were also cleared up, and Peregrine showed his approval with a generous tip for their host.
The evening being spent in this sociable manner, every man retired to his respective chamber, and next morning they breakfasted together, when Morgan declared he would stay till he should see our hero fairly embarked, that he might have the pleasure of Mr. Gauntlet's company to his own habitation: meanwhile, by the skipper's advice, the servants were ordered to carry a store of wine and provision on board, in case of accident; and, as the packet-boat could not sail before one o'clock, the company walked up hill to visit the castle, where they saw the sword of Julius Caesar, and Queen Elizabeth's pocket pistol; repeated Shakespeare's description, while they surveyed the chalky cliffs on each side, and cast their eyes towards the city of Calais, that was obscured by a thick cloud which did not much regale their eye-sight, because it seemed to portend foul weather.
The evening was spent socializing, and each person eventually went to their own room. The next morning, they had breakfast together, during which Morgan announced he would stay until he could see our hero properly set off, as he wanted to enjoy Mr. Gauntlet's company on the way to his home. Meanwhile, following the skipper's suggestion, they instructed the servants to load up on wine and supplies to bring on board, just in case. Since the packet boat couldn’t leave until one o’clock, they took a walk uphill to visit the castle. There, they admired Julius Caesar's sword and Queen Elizabeth's pocket pistol, recited Shakespeare's descriptions, while taking in the chalky cliffs on either side and gazing toward the city of Calais, which was shrouded in a thick cloud that didn’t do much for their view, as it seemed to indicate bad weather ahead.
Having viewed everything remarkable in this place, they returned to the pier, where, after the compliments of parting, and an affectionate embrace between the two young gentlemen, Peregrine and his governor stepped aboard, the sails were hoisted, and they went to sea with a fair wind, while Godfrey, Morgan, and the conjurer walked back to the inn, from whence they set out for Canterbury before dinner.
Having seen all the amazing sights in this place, they headed back to the pier, where, after exchanging farewell pleasantries and a warm hug between the two young men, Peregrine and his tutor boarded the ship, the sails were raised, and they set off into the sea with a good wind. Meanwhile, Godfrey, Morgan, and the magician walked back to the inn, from where they set out for Canterbury before lunch.
CHAPTER XXXV.
He embarks for France—Is overtaken by a Storm—Is surprised with the Appearance of Pipes—Lands at Calais, and has an Affray with the Officers at the Custom-house.
He sets off for France—Runs into a storm—Is surprised by the sight of pipes—Lands in Calais and gets into a confrontation with the customs officers.
Scarce had the vessel proceeded two leagues on the passage, when, the wind shifting, blew directly in her teeth; so that they were obliged to haul upon a wind, and alter their course. The sea running pretty high at the same time, our hero, who was below in his cabin, began to be squeamish, and, in consequence of the skipper's advice, went upon deck for the comfort of his stomach; while the governor, experienced in these disasters, slipped into bed, where he lay at his ease, amusing himself with a treatise on the cycloid, with algebraical demonstrations, which never failed to engage his imagination in the most agreeable manner.
The ship had barely gone two leagues on its journey when the wind changed direction and started blowing directly against them. They had to adjust their sails and change course. The sea was pretty rough at the same time, and our hero, who was below in his cabin, started to feel nauseous. Following the captain's advice, he went up on deck to settle his stomach, while the governor, experienced in these kinds of situations, climbed into bed. He relaxed there, entertaining himself with a book on the cycloid that included algebraic proofs, which always captivated his imagination in a pleasant way.
In the mean time the wind increased to a very hard gale, the vessel pitched with great violence, the sea washed over the deck, the master was alarmed, the crew were confounded, the passengers were overwhelmed with sickness and fear, and universal distraction ensued. In the midst of this uproar, Peregrine holding fast by the taffrail, and looking ruefully ahead, the countenance of Pipes presented itself to his astonished view, rising, as it were, from the hold of the ship. At first he imagined it was a fear-formed shadow of his own brain; though he did not long remain in this error, but plainly perceived that it was no other than the real person of Thomas, who, jumping on the quarter-deck, took charge of the helm, and dictated to the sailors with as much authority as if he had been commander of the ship. The skipper looked upon him as an angel sent to his assistance; and the crew soon discovered him to be a thoroughbred seaman, notwithstanding his livery-frock; obeyed his orders with such alacrity, that, in a little time, the confusion vanished; and every necessary step was taken to weather the gale.
In the meantime, the wind picked up to a strong gale, the ship was pitching violently, waves were crashing over the deck, the captain was worried, the crew was confused, and the passengers were overcome with sickness and fear, creating complete chaos. Amid this turmoil, Peregrine clung to the railing, looking anxiously ahead, when he suddenly saw Pipes’ face appear as if he had risen from the hold of the ship. At first, he thought it was just a figment of his imagination, but he quickly realized it was actually Thomas. He jumped onto the quarter-deck, took control of the helm, and confidently directed the sailors as if he were the captain. The skipper viewed him as a guardian angel sent to help, and the crew quickly recognized him as a seasoned sailor despite his work uniform. They followed his commands with such enthusiasm that the chaos soon faded, and all necessary actions were taken to ride out the storm.
Our young gentleman immediately conceived the meaning of Tom's appearance on board; and when the tumult was a little subsided, went up, and encouraged him to exert himself for the preservation of the ship, promising to take him again into his service, from which he should never be dismissed, except at his own desire. This assurance had a surprising effect upon Pipes, who, though he made no manner of reply, thrust the helm into the master's hands, saying, “Here, you old bumboat-woman, take hold of the tiller, and keep her thus, boy, thus;” and skipped about the vessel, trimming the sails, and managing the ropes with such agility and skill, that everybody on deck stood amazed at his dexterity.
Our young gentleman quickly understood why Tom was on board, and once the chaos calmed down a bit, he went up and encouraged him to do his best to save the ship, promising to rehire him and that he wouldn’t be let go unless he wanted to. This promise had an incredible effect on Pipes, who didn’t respond but handed the helm over to the captain, saying, “Here, you old boatwoman, take the tiller and hold it like this, boy, like this;” and then he hopped around the ship, adjusting the sails and handling the ropes with such agility and skill that everyone on deck was amazed by his talent.
Mr. Jolter was far from being unconcerned at the uncommon motion of the vessel, the singing of the wind, and the uproar which he heard about him: he looked towards the cabin-door with the most fearful expectation, in hope of seeing some person who could give some account of the weather, and what was doing upon deck; but not a soul appeared, and he was too well acquainted with the disposition of his own bowels to make the least alteration in his attitude. When he had lain a good while in all the agony of suspense, the boy tumbled headlong into his apartment, with such noise, that he believed the mast had gone by the board; and starting upright in his bed, asked, with all the symptoms of horror, what was the cause of that disturbance? The boy, half-stunned by his fall, answered in a dolorous tone, “I'm come to put up the dead-lights.” At the mention of dead-lights, the meaning of which he did not understand, the poor governor's heart died within him: he shivered with despair, his recollection forsaking him, he fell upon his knees in the bed, and, fixing his eyes upon the book which was in his hand, began to pronounce aloud with great fervour, “The time of a complete oscillation in the cycloid, is to the time in which a body would fall through the axis of the cycloid DV, as the circumference of a circle to its diameter.”
Mr. Jolter was definitely not indifferent to the strange movements of the ship, the howling wind, and the chaos he heard around him. He looked toward the cabin door with intense anxiety, hoping to see someone who could explain the weather and what was happening on deck; but no one showed up, and he knew himself well enough not to change his posture. After lying there for a while in complete suspense, the boy suddenly fell into his room with such a loud crash that Mr. Jolter thought the mast had come down. He jumped up in bed and, filled with dread, asked what all the commotion was about. The boy, still reeling from his fall, replied in a mournful tone, “I’m here to put up the dead-lights.” At the mention of dead-lights, the meaning of which he didn’t grasp, Mr. Jolter’s heart sank. He trembled with despair, and his mind went blank as he sank to his knees in bed, staring at the book in his hand, and began to recite passionately, “The time of a complete oscillation in the cycloid is to the time in which a body would fall through the axis of the cycloid DV, as the circumference of a circle is to its diameter.”
He would in all likelihood have proceeded with the demonstration of this proposition, had he not been seized with such a qualm as compelled him to drop the book, and accommodate himself to the emergency of his distemper: he therefore stretched himself at full length, and, putting up ejaculations to Heaven, began to prepare himself for his latter end, when all of a sudden the noise above was intermitted; and as he could not conceive the cause of this tremendous silence, he imagined that either the men were washed overboard, or that, despairing of safety, they had ceased to oppose the tempest. While he was harrowed by this miserable uncertainty, which, however, was not altogether unenlightened by some scattered rays of hope, the master entered the cabin: then he asked, with a voice half-extinguished by fear, how matters went upon deck; and the skipper, with a large bottle of brandy applied to his mouth, answered, in a hollow tone, “All's over now, master.” Upon which, Mr. Jolter, giving himself over for lost, exclaimed, with the utmost horror, “Lord have mercy upon us! Christ have mercy upon us;” and repeated this supplication, as it were mechanically, until the master undeceived him by explaining the meaning of what he had said, and assuring him that the squall was over.
He would have likely continued with demonstrating this idea if he hadn't been hit with a sudden feeling of unease that made him drop the book and deal with his distress. So, he laid down flat, praying to Heaven, and started preparing for his end when suddenly the noise above stopped. Unable to imagine the reason for this intense silence, he thought maybe the men had fallen overboard or, feeling hopeless, decided to stop fighting against the storm. While he was troubled by this horrible uncertainty, which was slightly brightened by some glimmers of hope, the captain came into the cabin. He asked, his voice almost choked by fear, how things were on deck. The skipper, with a large bottle of brandy at his lips, answered in a grave tone, “It's all over now, master.” Hearing this, Mr. Jolter, convinced he was lost, cried out in utter horror, “Lord have mercy on us! Christ have mercy on us!” and repeated this plea almost automatically until the captain clarified what he meant, assuring him that the storm had passed.
Such a sudden transition from fear to joy occasioned a violent agitation both in his mind and body; and it was a full quarter of an hour, before he recovered the right use of his organs, By this time the weather cleared up, the wind began to blow again from the right corner, and the spires of Calais appeared at the distance of five leagues; so that the countenances of all on board were lighted up with joyous expectation and Peregrine, venturing to go down into the cabin, comforted his governor with an account of the happy turn of their affairs.
Such a sudden shift from fear to joy caused a strong agitation in both his mind and body; and it took a full fifteen minutes before he regained proper control of himself. By this time, the weather cleared up, the wind started to blow again from the right direction, and the spires of Calais appeared five leagues away; this brightened the faces of everyone on board with joyful anticipation, and Peregrine, daring to go down into the cabin, reassured his governor with a description of their fortunate change in circumstances.
Jolter, transported with the thought of a speedy landing, began to launch out in praise of that country for which they were bound. He observed, that France was the land of politeness and hospitality, which were conspicuous in the behaviour of all ranks and degrees, from the peer to the peasant; that a gentleman and a foreigner, far from being insulted and imposed upon by the lower class of people, as in England, was treated with the utmost reverence, candour, and respect; and their fields were fertile, their climate pure healthy, their farmers rich and industrious, the subjects in general the happiest of men. He would have prosecuted this favourite theme still farther, had not his pupil been obliged to run upon deck, in consequence of certain warnings he received from his stomach.
Jolter, filled with excitement about their imminent arrival, started to rave about the country they were heading to. He pointed out that France was known for its politeness and hospitality, evident in the actions of everyone, from nobility to commoners. Unlike in England, where gentlemen and foreigners were often looked down upon by the working class, here they were treated with the utmost dignity, honesty, and respect. The land was fertile, the climate clean and healthy, its farmers were prosperous and hardworking, and the people in general were among the happiest in the world. He could have continued this favorite topic even more, but his student had to rush on deck due to some signals coming from his stomach.
The skipper seeing his condition, very honestly reminded him of the cold ham and fowls, with a basket of wine which he had ordered to be sent on board, and asked if he would have the cloth laid below. He could not have chosen a more seasonable opportunity of manifesting his own disinterestedness. Peregrine made wry faces at the mention of food, bidding him, for Heaven's sake, talk no more on that subject. He then descended into the cabin, and put the same question to Mr. Jolter, who, he knew, entertained the same abhorrence for his proposal; and meeting with the like reception from him, went between decks, and repeated his courteous proffer to the valet-de-chambre and lacquey, who lay sprawling in all the pangs of a double evacuation, and rejected his civility with the most horrible loathing. Thus baffled in all his kind endeavours, he ordered the boy to secure the provision in one of his own lockers, according to the custom of the ship.
The skipper, seeing his condition, honestly reminded him about the cold ham and chicken, along with a basket of wine that he had ordered to be sent aboard, and asked if he wanted the table set up below. He couldn't have picked a better moment to show his own selflessness. Peregrine made grimaces at the mention of food, begging him, for Heaven's sake, to stop talking about it. He then went down to the cabin and asked Mr. Jolter the same question, knowing he would feel the same way about his suggestion; receiving a similar response from him, he went below decks and offered the same courtesy to the valet-de-chambre and servant, who lay sprawled out in the throes of a double evacuation, and rejected his kindness with deep disgust. With all his good intentions thwarted, he ordered the boy to store the provisions in one of his own lockers, as was customary on the ship.
It being low water when they arrived on the French coast, the vessel could not enter the harbour, and they were obliged to bring to, and wait for a boat, which in less than half-an-hour came alongside from the shore. Mr. Jolter now came upon deck, and, snuffing up the French air with symptoms of infinite satisfaction, asked of the boatmen, with the friendly appellation of Mes enfants, what they demanded for transporting him and his pupil with their baggage to the pier. But how was he disconcerted, when those polite, candid, reasonable watermen demanded a louis d'or for that service! Peregrine, with a sarcastic sneer, observed, that he already began to perceive the justice of his encomiums on the French; and the disappointed governor could say nothing in his own vindication, but that they were debauched by their intercourse with the inhabitants of Dover. His pupil, however, was so much offended at their extortion, that he absolutely refused to employ them, even when they abated one half in their demand, and swore he would stay on board till the packet should be able to enter the harbour, rather than encourage such imposition.
Since it was low tide when they reached the French coast, the ship couldn't enter the harbor, and they had to stop and wait for a boat. In less than half an hour, one came alongside from the shore. Mr. Jolter then came up on deck, inhaling the French air with a look of great satisfaction, and asked the boatmen, referring to them as "My children," how much they charged to take him and his student along with their baggage to the pier. But he was taken aback when those polite, honest, and reasonable boatmen asked for a gold louis for that service! Peregrine, with a sarcastic grin, noted that he was starting to see the truth in Mr. Jolter’s praise of the French. The disappointed governor could only defend himself by saying they had been corrupted by their dealings with the people of Dover. However, his student was so offended by their greed that he outright refused to use them, even when they cut their price in half, insisting he would stay on board until the ship could enter the harbor rather than support such unfairness.
The master, who in all probability had some sort of fellow-feeling with the boatmen, in vain represented that he could not with safety lie-to or anchor upon a lee-shore: our hero, having consulted Pipes, answered, that he had hired his vessel to transport him to Calais, and that he would oblige him to perform what he had undertaken. The skipper, very much mortified at this peremptory reply, which was not over and above agreeable to Mr. Jolter, dismissed the boat, notwithstanding the solicitations and condescension of the watermen. Running a little farther in shore, they came to an anchor, and waited till there was water enough to float them over the bar. Then they stood into the harbour; and our gentleman, with his attendants and baggage, were landed on the pier by the sailors, whom he liberally rewarded for their trouble.
The captain, who probably had some sympathy for the boatmen, tried in vain to explain that he couldn’t safely stop or anchor near the shore. Our hero, after talking to Pipes, replied that he had hired the boat to take him to Calais, and he expected the captain to fulfill that obligation. The skipper, quite disheartened by this firm response, which Mr. Jolter didn’t find very pleasing either, dismissed the crew despite the pleas and politeness of the watermen. After moving a bit further inland, they anchored and waited until there was enough water to get them over the bar. Then they entered the harbor, and our gentleman, along with his companions and luggage, was taken to the pier by the sailors, whom he generously tipped for their efforts.
He was immediately plied by a great number of porters, who, like so many hungry wolves, laid hold on his baggage, and began to carry it off piecemeal, without his order or direction. Incensed at this officious insolence, he commanded them to desist, with many oaths and opprobrious terms that his anger suggested; and perceiving, that one of them did not seem to pay any regard to what he said, but marched off with his burthen, he snatched a cudgel out of his lacquey's hand, and overtaking the fellow in a twinkling, brought him to the ground with one blow. He was instantly surrounded by the whole congregation of this canaille, who resented the injury which their brother had sustained, and would have taken immediate satisfaction on the aggressor, had not Pipes, seeing his master involved, brought the whole crew to his assistance, and exerted himself so manfully that the enemy were obliged to retreat with many marks of defeat, and menaces of interesting the commandant in their quarrel. Jolter, who knew and dreaded the power of the French governor, began to shake with apprehension, when he heard their repeated threats, but they durst not apply to this magistrate, who, upon a fair representation of the case, would have punished them severely for their rapacious and insolent behaviour. Peregrine, without further molestation, availed himself of his own attendants, who shouldered his baggage and followed him to the gate, where they were stopped by the sentinels until their names should be registered.
He was quickly swarmed by a lot of porters who, like hungry wolves, grabbed his luggage and started carrying it away bit by bit, without his permission or guidance. Furious at their rude behavior, he shouted for them to stop, using plenty of curses and insults that flowed from his anger. Noticing that one of them ignored him and continued to walk off with his load, he grabbed a stick from his servant's hand and, in no time, caught up to the guy and took him down with one hit. Immediately, he was surrounded by the whole group of ruffians who were angry about the hurt their comrade had suffered and would have attacked him right away if Pipes hadn’t stepped in to help his master. Pipes fought back so bravely that the attackers had to back off, leaving with clear signs of defeat and threats of reporting the incident to the commander. Jolter, who knew well and feared the power of the French governor, started to shake with fear as he heard their repeated threats, but they didn’t dare go to this authority figure who, if told the truth, would have punished them harshly for their greedy and disrespectful behavior. Peregrine, facing no further trouble, took advantage of his own attendants, who picked up his bags and followed him to the gate, where they were held up by the guards until their names were recorded.
Mr. Jolter, who had undergone this examination before, resolved to profit by his experience, and cunningly represented his pupil as a young English lord. This intimation, supported by the appearance of his equipage, was no sooner communicated to the officer, than he turned out the guard, and ordered his soldiers to rest upon their arms, while his lordship passed in great state to the Lion d'Argent, where he took up his lodging for the night, resolving to set out for Paris next morning in a post-chaise.
Mr. Jolter, who had been through this examination before, decided to use his experience to his advantage and cleverly portrayed his student as a young English lord. As soon as he relayed this information, backed up by the impressive appearance of his carriage, the officer immediately dismissed the guard and had his soldiers stand at attention while his lordship made his grand entrance to the Lion d'Argent, where he checked in for the night, planning to head to Paris the next morning in a hired carriage.
The governor triumphed greatly in this piece of complaisance and respect with which they had been honoured, and resumed his beloved topic of discourse, in applauding the method and subordination of the French government, which was better calculated for maintaining order and protecting the people, than any constitution upon earth. Of their courteous attention to strangers, there needed no other proof than the compliment which had been paid to them, together with the governor's connivance at Peregrine's employing his own servants in carrying the baggage to the inn, contrary to the privilege of the inhabitants.
The governor was really pleased with the flattery and respect he had received, and he jumped back into his favorite topic: praising the structure and hierarchy of the French government, which he believed was more effective at keeping order and protecting the people than any constitution in the world. Their courteousness towards outsiders was evident from the compliment they had received, along with the governor's tolerance of Peregrine using his own servants to carry the luggage to the inn, against the usual rights of the locals.
While he expatiated with a remarkable degree of self-indulgence on this subject, the valet-de-chambre coming into the room interrupted his harangue by telling his master that their trunks and portmanteaus must be carried to the custom-house, in order to be searched, and sealed with lead, which must remain untouched until their arrival at Paris.
While he rambled on with a notable amount of self-satisfaction about this topic, the personal attendant walked into the room and interrupted him by informing his master that their trunks and suitcases needed to be taken to the customs office to be searched and sealed with lead, which must stay untouched until they got to Paris.
Peregrine made no objection to this practice, which was in itself reasonable enough; but when he understood that the gate was besieged by another multitude of porters, who insisted upon their right of carrying the goods, and also of fixing their own price, he absolutely refused to comply with their demand. Nay, he chastised some of the most clamorous among them with his foot, and told them, that if their custom-house officers had a mind to examine his baggage, they might come to the inn for that purpose. The valet-de-chambre was abashed at this boldness of his master's behaviour, which the lacquey, shrugging up his shoulders, observed, was bien a l'Anglaise; while the governor represented it as an indignity to the whole nation, and endeavoured to persuade his pupil to comply with the custom of the place. But Peregrine's natural haughtiness of disposition hindered him from giving ear to Jolter's wholesome advice; and in less than half-an-hour they observed a file of musketeers marching up to the gate. At sight of this detachment the tutor trembled, the valet grew pale, and the lacquey crossed himself; but our hero, without exhibiting any other symptoms than those of indignation, met them on the threshold, and with a ferocious air demanded their business. The corporal who commanded the file answered, with great deliberation, that he had orders to convey his baggage to the custom-house; and seeing the trunks standing in the entry, placed his men between them and the owner, while the porters that followed took them up, and proceeded to the douane without opposition.
Peregrine didn’t mind this practice, which was pretty reasonable; but when he realized that a whole crowd of porters was blocking the gate, insisting on their right to carry his goods and set their own prices, he flat-out refused to go along with them. In fact, he kicked some of the loudest ones away and told them that if the customs officers wanted to check his bags, they could come to the inn. The valet was taken aback by his master’s boldness, which the servant, shrugging his shoulders, remarked was quite English; meanwhile, the governor saw it as an insult to the entire nation and tried to convince Peregrine to follow the local customs. However, Peregrine’s natural pride stopped him from listening to Jolter's sensible advice. Within half an hour, they noticed a line of musketeers approaching the gate. At the sight of this group, the tutor trembled, the valet went pale, and the servant crossed himself; but our hero, showing no signs other than anger, met them at the threshold and, with a fierce look, asked what they wanted. The corporal in charge replied slowly that he had orders to take his luggage to the customs office; and seeing the trunks in the entryway, he positioned his men between them and their owner, while the porters picked them up and headed to the customs office without any resistance.
Pickle was not mad enough to dispute the authority of this message; but in order to gall and specify his contempt for those who brought it, he called aloud to his valet, desiring him, in French, to accompany his things, and see that none of his linen and effects should be stolen by the searchers. The corporal, mortified at this satirical insinuation, darted a look of resentment at the author, as if he had been interested for the glory of his nation; and told him that he could perceive he was a stranger in France, or else he would have saved himself the trouble of such a needless precaution.
Pickle wasn't foolish enough to question the authority of the message, but to express his disdain for those who delivered it, he loudly called for his servant and asked him, in French, to make sure his belongings were taken care of and that none of his laundry or possessions were stolen by the searchers. The corporal, embarrassed by this sarcastic remark, shot a look of anger at Pickle as if defending the honor of his country, and told him that he could tell he was a foreigner in France, or else he wouldn't have bothered with such a pointless precaution.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
He makes a fruitless Attempt in Gallantry—Departs for Boulogne, where he spends the evening with certain English Exiles.
He makes a pointless attempt at romance—leaves for Boulogne, where he spends the evening with some English exiles.
Having thus yielded to the hand of power, he inquired if there was any other English company in the house; when, understanding that a gentleman and lady lodged in the next apartment, and had bespoke a post-chaise for Paris, he ordered Pipes to ingratiate himself with their footman, and, if possible, learn their names and condition, while he and Mr. Jolter, attended by the lacquey, took a turn round the ramparts, and viewed the particulars of the fortification.
Having yielded to the power at play, he asked if there was any other English company in the house. When he learned that a gentleman and lady were staying in the next room and had ordered a carriage to Paris, he told Pipes to get on the good side of their footman, and if possible, find out their names and situation. Meanwhile, he and Mr. Jolter, along with the servant, took a stroll around the ramparts to check out the details of the fortification.
Tom was so very successful in his inquiry, that when his master returned he was able to give him a very satisfactory account of his fellow-lodgers, in consequence of having treated his brother with a bottle of wine. The people in question were a gentleman and his lady lately arrived from England, in their way to Paris. The husband was a man of good fortune, who had been a libertine in his youth, and a professed declaimer against matrimony. He wanted neither sense nor experience, and piqued himself in particular upon his art of avoiding the snares of the female sex, in which he pretended to be deeply versed; but, notwithstanding all his caution and skill, he had lately fallen a sacrifice to the attractions of an oyster-wench, who had found means to decoy him into the bands of wedlock; and, in order to evade the compliments and congratulations of his friends and acquaintance, he had come so far on a tour to Paris, where he intended to initiate his spouse in the beau monde. In the mean time, he chose to live upon the reserve, because her natural talents had as yet received but little cultivation; and he had not the most implicit confidence in her virtue and discretion, which, it seems, had like to have yielded to the addresses of an officer at Canterbury, who had made shift to insinuate himself into her acquaintance and favour.
Tom was really successful in his investigation, so when his boss returned, he was able to give him a very satisfying report about his fellow lodgers, thanks to treating his brother to a bottle of wine. The people in question were a gentleman and his wife who had recently arrived from England on their way to Paris. The husband was a wealthy man who had been a playboy in his youth and was openly against marriage. He was neither lacking in intelligence nor experience, and he took pride in his ability to avoid the traps set by women, claiming to be quite knowledgeable about it; however, despite all his caution and skill, he recently fell for a woman working as an oyster seller, who managed to trick him into marriage. To escape the compliments and congratulations from his friends and acquaintances, he traveled to Paris, where he planned to introduce his wife to high society. In the meantime, he preferred to stay reserved because her natural abilities were still quite underdeveloped, and he didn't completely trust her virtue and judgment, especially since it seemed she was nearly swayed by the advances of an officer in Canterbury who had managed to win her favor.
Peregrine's curiosity being inflamed by this information, he lounged about the yard, in hopes of seeing the dulcinea who had captivated the old bachelor; and at length observing her at a window, took the liberty of bowing to her with great respect. She returned the compliment with a curtsy, and appeared so decent in her dress and manner, that unless he had been previously informed of her former life and conversation, he never would have dreamt that her education was different from that of other ladies of fashion; so easy is it to acquire that external deportment on which people of condition value themselves so much. Not but that Mr. Pickle pretended to distinguish a certain vulgar audacity in her countenance, which in a lady of birth and fortune would have passed for an agreeable vivacity that enlivens the aspect, and gives poignancy to every feature; but as she possessed a pair of fine eyes, and a clear complexion overspread with a glow of health, which never fails of recommending the owner, he could not help gazing at her with desire, and forming the design of making a conquest of her heart. With this view, he sent his compliments to her husband whose name was Hornbeck, with an intimation that he proposed to set out the next day for Paris, and as he understood that he was resolved upon the same journey, he should be extremely glad of his company on the road, if he was not better engaged. Hornbeck, who in all probability did not choose to accommodate his wife with a squire of our hero's appearance, sent a civil answer to his message, professing infinite mortification at his being unable to embrace the favour of this kind offer, by reason of the indisposition of his wife, who, he was afraid, would not be in a condition for some days to bear the fatigue of travelling.
Peregrine's curiosity sparked by this information, he lounged around the yard, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman who had enchanted the old bachelor. Eventually, he spotted her at a window and took the liberty of bowing to her with great respect. She returned the gesture with a curtsy and appeared so respectable in her dress and demeanor that, if he hadn’t known about her past, he would never have guessed her upbringing was any different from that of other fashionable ladies. It’s remarkably easy to adopt the external behaviors that people of status value so much. Although Mr. Pickle claimed to notice a certain roughness in her expression, which in a woman of wealth and nobility would have seemed like charming liveliness that brightens her appearance, he couldn't help but admire her fine eyes and clear complexion, glowing with health—qualities that always enhance a person's appeal. He found himself imagining winning her heart. To that end, he sent his regards to her husband, Hornbeck, suggesting that he planned to leave for Paris the next day, and since he understood Hornbeck was going on the same journey, he would be very pleased to have his company on the road, if he wasn’t already occupied. Hornbeck, likely unwilling to allow his wife to travel with someone of Peregrine’s appearance, sent a polite response expressing his sorrow at being unable to accept the offer due to his wife’s illness, as he feared she wouldn't be well enough for several days to handle the strain of traveling.
This rebuff, which Peregrine ascribed to the husband's jealousy, stifled his project in embryo: he ordered his French servant to take a place for himself in the diligence, where all his luggage was stowed, except a small trunk, with some linen and other necessaries, that was fixed upon the post-chaise which they hired of the landlord; and early next morning he and Mr. Jolter departed from Calais, attended by his valet-de-chambre and Pipes on horseback. They proceeded without any accident as far as Boulogne, where they breakfasted, and visited old Father Graham, a Scottish gentleman of the governor's acquaintance, who had lived as a Capuchin in that place for the space of threescore years, and during that period conformed to all the austerities of the order with the most rigorous exactness, being equally remarkable for the frankness of his conversation, the humanity of his disposition, and the simplicity of his manners. From Boulogne they took their departure about noon; and as they proposed to sleep that night at Abbeville, commanded the postilion to drive with extra ordinary speed. Perhaps it was well for his cattle that the axletree gave way and the chaise of course overturned, before they had travelled one-third part of the stage.
This rejection, which Peregrine attributed to the husband's jealousy, killed his plan before it could take off. He told his French servant to secure a spot for himself in the coach, where all his luggage was stored, except for a small trunk containing some linen and other essentials, which was strapped to the hired post-chaise from the landlord. Early the next morning, he and Mr. Jolter left Calais, accompanied by his valet and Pipes on horseback. They traveled without any issues as far as Boulogne, where they had breakfast and visited old Father Graham, a Scottish gentleman known to the governor. He had lived as a Capuchin there for sixty years and had adhered strictly to all the order's austerities, being well-known for his candid conversations, kind nature, and simple ways. They left Boulogne around noon, aiming to stay the night in Abbeville, and instructed the postilion to drive unusually fast. Perhaps it was fortunate for his horses that the axle broke and the chaise overturned before they had traveled one-third of the distance.
This accident compelled them to return to the place from whence they had set out; and as they could not procure another conveyance, they found themselves under the necessity of staying till their chaise could be refitted. Understanding that this operation would detain them a whole day, our young gentleman had recourse to his patience, and demanded to know what they could have for dinner; the garcon or waiter, thus questioned, vanished in a moment, and immediately they were surprised with the appearance of a strange figure, which, from the extravagance of its dress and gesticulation, Peregrine mistook for a madman of the growth of France. This phantom (which, by the bye, happened to be no other than the cook) was a tall, long-legged, meagre, swarthy fellow, that stooped very much; his cheek-bones were remarkably raised, his nose bent into the shape and size of a powder-horn, and the sockets of his eyes as raw round the edges as if the skin had been pared off. On his head he wore a handkerchief, which had once been white, and now served to cover the upper part of a black periwig, to which was attached a bag at least a foot square, with a solitaire and rose that stuck upon each side of his ear; so that he looked like a criminal on the pillory. His back was accommodated with a linen waistcoat, his hands adorned with long ruffles of the same piece, his middle was girded by an apron, tucked up, that it might not conceal his white silk stockings, rolled; and at his entrance he brandished a bloody weapon full three feet in length.
This accident forced them to go back to where they had started; and since they couldn’t get another ride, they had to wait until their carriage could be repaired. Knowing this would take a whole day, our young gentleman practiced patience and asked what they could have for dinner. The waiter, when asked, disappeared for a moment, and soon they were surprised by the appearance of a strange figure, which, due to its outrageous outfit and gestures, Peregrine thought was a madman from France. This figure (who turned out to be the cook) was a tall, lanky, dark-skinned guy who slouched a lot; his cheekbones were prominently raised, his nose was shaped like a powder horn, and the skin around his eye sockets looked raw, as if it had been scraped off. On his head, he wore a handkerchief that had once been white, now covering the top of a black wig, to which was attached a bag at least a foot square, with a solitaire and rose sticking out on each side of his ear, making him look like a criminal on a pillory. His back was covered with a linen waistcoat, his hands had long ruffles made of the same fabric, his waist was tied with an apron, pulled up to show his rolled white silk stockings; and as he entered, he waved around a bloody weapon that was nearly three feet long.
Peregrine, when he first saw him approach in this menacing attitude, put himself upon his guard; but being informed of his quality, perused his bill of fare, and having bespoken three or four things for dinner, walked out with Mr. Jolter to view both towns, which they had not leisure to consider minutely before. In their return from the harbour they met with four or five gentlemen, all of whom seemed to look with an air of dejection, and perceiving our hero and his governor to be English by their dress, bowed with great respect as they passed. Pickle, who was naturally compassionate, felt an emotion of sympathy; and seeing a person, who by his habit he judged to be one of their servants, accosted him in English, and asked who the gentlemen were. The lacquey gave him to understand that they were his own countrymen, called from their native homes in consequence of their adherence to an unfortunate and ruined cause; and that they were gone to the sea-side, according to their daily practice, in order to indulge their longing eyes with a prospect of the white cliffs of Albion, which they must never more approach.
Peregrine, when he first saw him approach with that threatening demeanor, put himself on guard; but when he learned who he was, he looked over the menu and ordered a few items for dinner. He then stepped out with Mr. Jolter to explore both towns, which they hadn’t had time to examine closely before. On their way back from the harbor, they encountered four or five gentlemen, all of whom appeared downcast, and noticing that our hero and his governor were English by their attire, bowed respectfully as they passed by. Pickle, who was naturally compassionate, felt a twinge of sympathy; and seeing a servant, who he guessed was one of theirs, he spoke to him in English and asked who the gentlemen were. The servant indicated that they were his fellow countrymen, called away from their homes because of their loyalty to an unfortunate and defeated cause; and that they had gone to the seaside, as was their daily routine, to enjoy a view of the white cliffs of Albion, which they could never approach again.
Though our young gentleman differed widely from them in point of political principles, he was not one of those enthusiasts who look upon every schism from the established articles of faith as damnable, and exclude the sceptic from every benefit of humanity and Christian forgiveness: he could easily comprehend how a man of the most unblemished morals might, by the prejudice of education, or indispensable attachments, be engaged in such a blameworthy and pernicious undertaking; and thought that they had already suffered severely for their imprudence. He was affected with the account of their diurnal pilgrimage to the sea-side, which he considered as a pathetic proof of their affliction, and invested Mr. Jolter with the agreeable office of going to them with a compliment in his name, and begging the honour of drinking a glass with them in the evening. They accepted the proposal with great satisfaction and respectful acknowledgment, and in the afternoon waited upon the kind inviter, who treated them with coffee, and would have detained them to supper, but they entreated the favour of his company at the house which they frequented so earnestly, that he yielded to their solicitations, and, with his governor, was conducted by them to the place, where they had provided an elegant repast, and regaled them with some of the best claret in France.
Although our young gentleman held vastly different political beliefs from them, he wasn't one of those fervent individuals who view every departure from established principles as unforgivable, excluding skeptics from the benefits of humanity and Christian mercy. He understood how a person of impeccable morals might become involved in a questionable and harmful cause due to the biases of their education or necessary ties, and he believed they had already faced significant consequences for their recklessness. He was moved by their daily journeys to the seaside, which he saw as a touching indication of their struggles, and appointed Mr. Jolter to extend his regards to them, inviting them to share a drink with him in the evening. They accepted the invitation with great pleasure and grateful acknowledgment, and in the afternoon, they visited their kind host, who treated them to coffee and would have kept them for dinner, but they requested his company at the place they frequented so earnestly that he agreed to their requests and, along with his governor, was led by them to a location where they had arranged a lovely meal and served them some of the finest claret from France.
It was easy for them to perceive that their principal guest was no favourer of their state maxims, and therefore they industriously avoided every subject of conversation which could give the least offence: not but they lamented their own situation, which cut them off from all their dearest connections, and doomed them to perpetual banishment from their families and friends: but they did not, even by the most distant hint, impeach the justice of that sentence by which they were condemned; although one among them, who seemed to be about the age of thirty, wept bitterly over his misfortune, which had involved a beloved wife and three children in misery and distress; and, in the impatience of his grief, cursed his own fate with frantic imprecations. His companions, with a view of beguiling his sorrow, and manifesting their own hospitality at the same time, changed the topic of discourse, and circulated the bumpers with great assiduity; so that all their cares were overwhelmed and forgotten, several French drinking catches were sung, and mirth and good-fellowship prevailed.
It was clear to them that their main guest did not support their views, so they carefully avoided any topics that might cause offense. They were saddened by their own situation, which separated them from their closest loved ones and forced them into permanent exile from their families and friends. However, they didn’t even hint at questioning the fairness of the sentence that condemned them. One man among them, who appeared to be around thirty, wept heavily for his misfortune, which had brought suffering to his beloved wife and three children. In his grief, he angrily cursed his fate. In an effort to distract him and show their hospitality, his friends changed the subject and poured drinks eagerly, allowing all their worries to be forgotten. They sang several French drinking songs, and laughter and camaraderie flourished.
In the midst of this elevation, which commonly unlocks the most hidden sentiment, and dispels every consideration of caution and constraint, one of the entertainers, being more intoxicated than his fellows, proposed a toast, to which Peregrine, with some warmth, excepted as an unmannerly insult. The other maintained his proposition with indecent heat; and the dispute beginning to grow very serious, the company interposed, and gave judgment against their friend, who was so keenly reproached and rebuked for his impolite behaviour, that he retired in high dudgeon, threatening to relinquish their society, and branding them with the appellation apostates from the common cause. Mortified at the behaviour of their companion, those that remained were earnest in their apologies to their guests, whom they besought to forgive his intemperance, assuring them with great confidence that he would, upon the recovery of his reflection, wait upon them in person, and ask pardon for the umbrage he had given. Pickle was satisfied with their remonstrances, resumed his good humour, and the night being pretty far advanced resisted all their importunities with which he was entreated to see another bottle go round, and was escorted to his own lodgings more than half-seas over. Next morning, about eight o'clock, he was waked by his valet-de-chambre, who told him that two of the gentlemen with whom he had spent the evening were in the house, and desired the favour of being admitted into his chamber. He could not conceive the meaning of this extraordinary visit; and, ordering his man to show them enter into his apartment, beheld the person who had affronted him enter with the gentleman who had reprehended his rudeness.
In the middle of this high-spirited gathering, which usually reveals the deepest feelings and removes all sense of caution and restraint, one of the entertainers, who was more drunk than the others, suggested a toast. Peregrine reacted strongly, seeing it as an impolite insult. The other guy defended his toast with inappropriate enthusiasm, and as the argument became quite serious, the others stepped in and sided against their friend. He faced harsh criticism for his bad behavior and ended up storming off in anger, vowing to leave their company and calling them traitors to the shared cause. Embarrassed by their friend's actions, those who stayed offered sincere apologies to their guests, pleading with them to overlook his drunkenness. They assured everyone that once he sobered up, he would come back to apologize personally for the offense he had caused. Pickle accepted their explanations, lightened up, and even though it was quite late, he resisted their pleas to have another round and was taken home somewhat tipsy. The next morning, around eight, his valet woke him up to say that two gentlemen from the previous evening were in the house and wanted to come to his room. He couldn’t understand the reason for this unusual visit. He instructed his servant to let them in and saw that the person who had insulted him entered with the man who had scolded him.
He who had given the offence, after having made an apology for disturbing Mr. Pickle, told him that his friend there present had been with him early that morning, and proposed the alternative of either fighting with him immediately, or coming to beg pardon for his unmannerly deportment over-night: that though he had courage enough to face any man in the field in a righteous cause, he was not so brutal as to disobey the dictates of his own duty and reflection, in consequence of which, and not out of any regard to the other's menaces, which he despised, he had now taken the liberty of interrupting his repose, that he might, as soon as possible, atone for the injury he had done him, which he protested was the effect of intoxication alone, and begged his forgiveness accordingly. Our hero accepted of this acknowledgment very graciously; thanked the other gentleman for the gallant part he had acted in his behalf; and perceiving that his companion was a little irritated at his officious interposition, effected a reconciliation, by convincing him that what he had done was for the honour of the company. He then kept them to his breakfast; expressed a desire of seeing their situation altered for the better; and the chaise being repaired, took his leave of his entertainers, who came to wish him a good journey, and with his attendants left Boulogne for the second time.
The person who caused the trouble, after apologizing for disrupting Mr. Pickle, told him that his friend, who was present, had met with him early that morning and suggested either fighting right away or coming to apologize for his rude behavior the night before. He admitted that while he had enough courage to stand up to anyone in a just cause, he wasn't so brutal as to ignore his sense of duty and reflection. This decision to interrupt Mr. Pickle’s rest wasn't out of fear of the other man's threats, which he looked down upon, but rather to make amends for the wrong he had done, which he insisted was purely due to being drunk. He sincerely asked for forgiveness. Our hero graciously accepted this apology, thanked the other gentleman for standing up for him, and noticing that his friend was a bit annoyed by his interference, he made peace by convincing him that his actions were in the best interest of the group. He then invited them to breakfast, expressed a desire to see their situation improve, and after the carriage was fixed, said goodbye to his hosts, who wished him a good journey as he left Boulogne for the second time with his companions.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Proceeds for the Capital—Takes up his Lodging at Bernay, where he is overtaken by Mr. Hornbeck, whose Head he longs to fortify.
Proceeds for the Capital—Checks into his place at Bernay, where he is caught up with Mr. Hornbeck, whose mind he is eager to strengthen.
During this day's expedition, Mr. Jolter took an opportunity of imparting to his pupil the remarks he had made upon the industry of the French as an undeniable proof of which he bade him cast his eyes around, and observe with what care every spot of ground was cultivated, and from the fertility of that province, which is reckoned the poorest in France, conceive the wealth and affluence of the nation in general. Peregrine, amazed as well as disgusted at this infatuation, answered that what he ascribed to industry was the effect of mere wretchedness; the miserable peasants being obliged to plough up every inch of ground to satisfy their oppressive landlords, while they themselves and their cattle looked like so many images of famine; that their extreme poverty was evident from the face of the country, on which there was not one inclosure to be seen, or any other object, except scanty crops of barley and oats, which could never reward the toil of the husbandman; that their habitations were no better than paltry huts; that in twenty miles of extent not one gentleman's house appeared; that nothing was more abject and forlorn than the attire of their country people; that the equipage of their travelling chaises was infinitely inferior to that of a dung-cart in England; and that the postilion who then drove their carriage had neither stockings to his legs, nor a shirt to his back.
During today's trip, Mr. Jolter took the chance to share his thoughts with his student about the hard work of the French, using it as clear evidence. He asked him to look around and see how carefully every piece of land was farmed and, from the fertility of that region—considered the poorest in France—imagine the wealth and abundance of the country overall. Peregrine, both amazed and disgusted by this perspective, replied that what Mr. Jolter called hard work was actually just a sign of extreme hardship; the miserable peasants had to cultivate every inch of land to satisfy their demanding landlords, while they and their animals looked like living pictures of starvation. Their extreme poverty was obvious from the landscape, where not a single enclosure could be seen, just sparse crops of barley and oats that could never sufficiently reward the farmer’s labor. Their homes were no better than shabby huts, and in a stretch of twenty miles, not one gentleman's house was visible. Nothing was more pitiful than the clothing of the local people, and the state of their traveling carriages was far worse than that of a dung cart in England. The postilion driving their carriage had neither stockings on his legs nor a shirt on his back.
The governor, finding his charge so intractable resolved to leave him in the midst of his own ignorance and prejudice, and reserve his observations for those who would pay more deference to his opinion: and indeed this resolution he had often made, and as often broken in the transports of his zeal, that frequently hurried him out of the plan of conduct which in his cooler moments he had laid down. They halted for refreshment at Montreuil, and about seven in the evening arrived at a village called Bernay, where, while they waited for fresh horses, they were informed by the landlord that the gates of Abbeville were shut every night punctually at eight o'clock, so that it would be impossible for them to get admittance. He said there was not another place of entertainment on the road where they could pass the night; and therefore, as a friend, he advised them to stay at his house, where they would find the best of accommodation, and proceed upon their journey betimes in the morning.
The governor, finding his charge so stubborn, decided to leave him in the middle of his own ignorance and biases, reserving his insights for those who would value his opinion more. And indeed, this was a resolution he had made many times, yet often broke in the heat of his passion, which frequently led him away from the plan of action he had set in his calmer moments. They stopped for a break at Montreuil, and around seven in the evening, they arrived at a village called Bernay, where, while they waited for fresh horses, the landlord informed them that the gates of Abbeville closed every night promptly at eight o'clock, making it impossible for them to get in. He mentioned that there wasn’t another place to stay along the road where they could spend the night; therefore, as a friend, he suggested they stay at his house, where they would find excellent accommodations, and continue their journey early in the morning.
Mr. Jolter, though he had travelled on that road before, could not recollect whether or not mine host spoke truth; but his remonstrance being very plausible, our hero determined to follow his advice, and being conducted into an apartment, asked what they could have for supper. The landlord mentioned everything that was eatable in the house; and the whole being engrossed for the use of him and his attendants, he amused himself, till such time as it should be dressed, in strolling about the house, which stands in a very rural situation. While he thus loitered away the time that hung heavy on his hands, another chaise arrived at the inn, and upon inquiry he found that the new-comers were Mr. Hornbeck and his lady. The landlord, conscious of his inability to entertain this second company, came and begged with great humiliation that Mr. Pickle would spare them some part of the victuals he had bespoken; but he refused to part with so much as the wing of a partridge, though at the same time he sent his compliments to the strangers, and giving them to understand how ill the house was provided for their reception, invited them to partake of his supper. Mr. Hornbeck, who was not deficient in point of politeness, and extremely well disposed for a relishing meal, which he had reason to expect from the savoury steam that issued from the kitchen, could not resist this second instance of our young gentleman's civility, which he acknowledged in a message, importing that he and his wife would do themselves the pleasure of profiting by his courteous offer. Peregrine's cheeks glowed when he found himself on the eve of being acquainted with Mrs. Hornbeck, of whose heart he had already made a conquest in imagination; and he forthwith set his invention at work, to contrive some means of defeating her husband's vigilance.
Mr. Jolter, even though he had traveled this road before, couldn’t remember if the landlord was telling the truth. But since his argument was pretty convincing, our hero decided to take his advice. After being shown to a room, he asked what they had for dinner. The landlord listed everything edible in the house, and since all of it was reserved for him and his companions, he entertained himself by wandering around the place, which was in a very scenic location. While he was passing the time, another carriage arrived at the inn, and when he asked, he learned that the newcomers were Mr. Hornbeck and his wife. The landlord, aware that he couldn’t accommodate this second group, approached with great embarrassment and asked Mr. Pickle to share some of the food he had ordered. However, he refused to part with even a single partridge wing, although he did send his regards to the newcomers, letting them know how poorly the place was prepared for their visit and inviting them to join him for dinner. Mr. Hornbeck, who was very polite and eager for a tasty meal—which he could smell wafting from the kitchen—couldn’t turn down our young gentleman's kind offer. He sent a message back saying that he and his wife would be happy to take him up on his invitation. Peregrine felt a rush of excitement at the prospect of meeting Mrs. Hornbeck, having already imagined winning her heart, and immediately began brainstorming ways to outsmart her husband’s watchfulness.
When supper was ready, he in person gave notice to his guests, and, leading the lady into his apartment, seated her in an elbow-chair at the upper end of the table, squeezing her hand, and darting a most insidious glance at the same time. This abrupt behaviour he practised on the presumption that a lady of her breeding was not to be addressed with the tedious forms that must be observed in one's advances to a person of birth and genteel education. In all probability his calculation was just, for Mrs. Hornbeck gave no signs of discontent at this sort of treatment, but, on the contrary, seemed to consider it as a proof of the young gentleman's regard; and though she did not venture to open her mouth three times during the whole repast, she showed herself particularly well satisfied with her entertainer, by sundry sly and significant looks, while her husband's eyes were directed another way; and divers loud peals of laughter, signifying her approbation of the sallies which he uttered in the course of their conversation.
When dinner was ready, he personally informed his guests and, taking the lady to his room, seated her in an armchair at the head of the table, squeezing her hand and casting a subtly flirtatious glance at the same time. He acted this way under the assumption that a lady of her background shouldn't be approached with the usual formalities required for someone of high status and good upbringing. His assumption was probably correct, as Mrs. Hornbeck showed no signs of being unhappy with this treatment; on the contrary, she seemed to see it as a sign of the young man's affection. Even though she hardly spoke during the entire meal, she indicated her satisfaction with her host through various sly and meaningful looks while her husband was looking elsewhere, and her loud bursts of laughter showed her approval of the witty remarks he made during their conversation.
Her spouse began to be very uneasy at the frank demeanour of his yoke-fellow, whom he endeavoured to check in her vivacity, by assuming a severity of aspect; but whether she obeyed the dictates of her own disposition, which, perhaps, was merry and unreserved, or wanted to punish Mr. Hornbeck for his jealousy of temper; certain it is, her gaiety increased to such a degree, that her husband was grievously alarmed and, incensed at her conduct, and resolved to make her sensible of his displeasure, by treading in secret upon her toes. He was, however, so disconcerted by his indignation, that he mistook his mark, and applied the sharp heel of his shoe to the side of Mr. Jolter's foot, comprehending his little toe that was studded with an angry corn, which he invaded with such a sudden jerk, that the governor, unable to endure the torture in silence started up, and, dancing on the floor, roared hideously with repeated bellowings, to the enjoyment of Peregrine and the lady, who laughed themselves almost into convulsions at the joke. Hornbeck, confounded at the mistake he had committed, begged pardon of the injured tutor with great contrition protesting that the blow he had so unfortunately received, was intended for an ugly cur, which he thought had posted himself under the table. It was lucky for him that there was actually a dog in the room, to justify this excuse, which Jolter admitted with the tears running over his cheeks, and the economy of the table was recomposed.
Her husband started to feel really uneasy about his wife's straightforward attitude. He tried to rein in her energy by putting on a serious face. But whether she was just being true to her own cheerful and open nature, or if she wanted to annoy Mr. Hornbeck for being so jealous, it’s clear that her happiness only grew, leaving her husband extremely worried and upset by her behavior. He decided he would make her aware of his displeasure by secretly stepping on her toes. However, he was so flustered by his anger that he missed his target and accidentally stepped on Mr. Jolter's foot instead, hitting his little toe, which was swollen and painful. The sudden jolt made the governor jump up and, dancing around in pain, he let out horrible roars that made Peregrine and the lady laugh so hard they nearly fell over. Hornbeck, shocked by his mistake, apologized to the injured tutor with genuine regret, claiming that the kick had been meant for an ugly dog he thought was lurking under the table. Luckily for him, there was indeed a dog in the room, which made his excuse believable. Jolter accepted it, tears streaming down his face, and everyone managed to calm down again.
As soon, however, as the strangers could with decency withdraw, this suspicious husband took his leave of the youth, on pretence of being fatigued with his journey, after having, by way of compliment, proposed that they should travel together next day; and Peregrine handed the lady to her chamber, where he wished her good night with another warm squeeze, which she returned. This favourable hint made his heart bound with a transport of joy: he lay in wait for an opportunity of declaring himself; and seeing the husband go down into the yard with a candle, glided softly into his apartment, where he found her almost undressed. Impelled by the impetuosity of his passion, which was still more inflamed by her present luscious appearance, and encouraged by the approbation she had already expressed, he ran towards her with eagerness, crying, “Zounds! madam, your charms are irresistible!” and without further ceremony would have clasped her in his arms, had she not begged him for the love of God to retire; for should Mr. Hornbeck return and find him there, she would be undone for ever. He was not so blinded by his passion, but that he saw the reasonableness of her fear; and as he could not pretend to crown his wishes at that interview, he avowed himself her lover, assured her that he would exhaust his whole invention in finding a proper opportunity for throwing himself at her feet; and in the mean time he ravished sundry small favours, which she in the hurry of her fright, could not withhold from his impudence of address. Having thus settled the preliminaries, he withdrew to his own chamber, and spent the whole night in contriving stratagems to elude the jealous caution of his fellow-traveller.
As soon as the strangers could politely leave, the suspicious husband said goodbye to the young man, pretending to be tired from his journey. He complimented them by suggesting they should travel together the next day. Peregrine walked the lady to her room, where he wished her goodnight with another warm squeeze, which she returned. This encouraging gesture made his heart leap with joy. He waited for a chance to express his feelings, and when he saw the husband go down to the yard with a candle, he quietly slipped into her room, where she was almost undressed. Driven by the intensity of his passion, which was further ignited by her alluring appearance, and encouraged by her previous response, he rushed towards her eagerly, exclaiming, “Wow! Madame, you are simply irresistible!” Without any further formality, he would have wrapped her in his arms if she hadn’t begged him to leave for the love of God, explaining that if Mr. Hornbeck returned and found him there, she would be ruined forever. He wasn't blinded by his passion enough to ignore her fear and, unable to fulfill his desires that night, declared himself her lover. He promised to do everything he could to find a proper opportunity to throw himself at her feet. In the meantime, he managed to steal a few small favors, which she, caught up in her fright, couldn’t refuse due to his bold approach. Having sorted that out, he returned to his room and spent the entire night devising plans to outsmart the jealous caution of his traveling companion.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
They set out in company, breakfast at Abbeville, dine at Amiens and, about eleven o'clock, arrive at Chantilly where Peregrine executes a Plan which he had concerted upon Hornbeck.
They left together, had breakfast in Abbeville, lunch in Amiens, and around eleven o'clock, arrived in Chantilly where Peregrine carried out a plan he had made with Hornbeck.
The whole company by agreement rose and departed before day, and breakfasted at Abbeville, where they became acquainted with the finesse of their Bernay landlord, who had imposed upon them, in affirming that they would not have been admitted after the gates were shut. From thence they proceeded to Amiens, where they dined, and were pestered by begging friars; and the roads being deep, it was eleven o'clock at night before they reached Chantilly, where they found supper already dressed, in consequence of having despatched the valet-de-chambre before them on horseback.
The entire group agreed to leave before dawn and had breakfast in Abbeville, where they encountered the cleverness of their landlord from Bernay, who had tricked them into believing they wouldn’t have been let in after the gates closed. From there, they went to Amiens, where they had lunch and were annoyed by begging friars. The roads were rough, so it was eleven at night by the time they got to Chantilly, where supper was already prepared because they had sent the personal attendant ahead on horseback.
The constitution of Hornbeck being very much impaired by a life of irregularity, he found himself so fatigued with his day's journey, which amounted to upwards of a hundred miles, that when he sat down at table, he could scarce sit upright; and in less than three minutes began to nod in his chair. Peregrine, who had foreseen and provided for this occasion, advised him to exhilarate his spirits with a glass of wine; and the proposal being embraced, tipped his valet-de-chambre the wink, who, according to the instructions he had received, qualified the Burgundy with thirty drops of laudanum, which this unfortunate husband swallowed in one glass. The dose, cooperating with his former drowsiness, lulled him so fast to sleep, as it were instantaneously, that it was found necessary to convey him to his own chamber, where his footman undressed and put him to bed: nor was Jolter (naturally of a sluggish disposition) able to resist his propensity to sleep, without suffering divers dreadful yawns, which encouraged his pupil to administer the same dose to him, which had operated so successfully upon the other Argus. This cordial had not such gentle effect upon the rugged organs of Jolter as upon the more delicate nerves of Hornbeck; but discovered itself in certain involuntary startings, and convulsive motions in the muscles of his face; and when his nature at length yielded to the power of this medicine, he sounded the trumpet so loud through his nostrils, that our adventurer was afraid the noise would wake his other patient, and consequently the accomplishment of his aim. The governor was therefore committed to the care of Pipes, who lugged him into the next room, and having stripped off his clothes, tumbled him into his nest, while the two lovers remained at full liberty to indulge their mutual passion.
The condition of Hornbeck, severely affected by a chaotic lifestyle, left him so exhausted from his day’s journey, which totaled over a hundred miles, that when he sat down at the table, he could hardly sit up straight and began to nod off in his chair within three minutes. Peregrine, who had anticipated this situation, suggested he perk himself up with a glass of wine; after accepting the suggestion, he signaled to his valet, who, following his instructions, mixed the Burgundy with thirty drops of laudanum, which the unfortunate husband downed in one go. The combination of the drug and his prior fatigue quickly made him fall asleep, so fast that he needed to be taken to his room, where his footman undressed him and put him to bed. Jolter, who naturally had a sluggish temperament, struggled against his own sleepiness, experiencing several intense yawns, which led his pupil to give him the same dose that had worked so well on Hornbeck. However, this remedy did not affect Jolter as smoothly as it had Hornbeck; instead, it caused him to have involuntary twitches and spasms in his facial muscles, and once he finally succumbed to the drug's effects, he snored so loudly through his nose that our adventurer worried it would wake Hornbeck, jeopardizing his plans. Therefore, the governor was entrusted to Pipes, who dragged him into the next room, stripped off his clothes, and tossed him into bed, allowing the two lovers to freely indulge in their passion.
Peregrine, in the impatience of his inclination, would have finished the fate of Hornbeck immediately; but his inamorata disapproved of his intention, and represented that their being together by themselves for any length of time would be observed by her servant, who was kept as a spy upon her actions; so that they had recourse to another scheme which was executed in this manner. He conducted her into her own apartment in presence of her footman, who lighted them thither, and wishing her good rest, returned to his own chamber, where he waited till everything was quiet in the house; then stealing softly to her door, which had been left open for his admission in the dark, he found the husband still secure in the embraces of sleep, and the lady in a loose gown, ready to seal his happiness. He conveyed her to his own chamber; but his guilty passion was not gratified.
Peregrine, eager to resolve Hornbeck’s situation, would have acted immediately; however, his love interest disapproved of his plan and pointed out that their alone time would be noticed by her servant, who acted as a spy on her. So, they came up with another plan, handled like this. He took her to her room in front of her footman, who led them there and, wishing her a good night's rest, returned to his own room. He waited until everything was quiet in the house, then quietly made his way to her door, which had been left ajar for him. He found her husband still deep in sleep and the lady in a loose gown, ready to fulfill his desires. He brought her to his own room, but his guilty passion went unfulfilled.
The opium which had been given to Jolter, together with the wine he had drunk, produced such a perturbation in his fancy, that he was visited with horrible dreams; and, among other miserable situations, imagined himself in danger of perishing in the flames, which he thought had taken hold on his apartment. This vision made such an impression upon his faculties, that he alarmed the whole house with repeated cries of “Fire! fire!” and even leaped out of his bed, though he still continued fast asleep. The lovers were very disagreeably disturbed by this dreadful exclamation; and Mrs. Hornbeck, running in great confusion to the door, had the mortification to see the footman, with a light in his hand, enter her husband's chamber, in order to give him notice of this accident. She knew that she would be instantly missed, and could easily divine the consequence, unless her invention could immediately trump up some plausible excuse for her absence.
The opium Jolter had taken, combined with the wine he drank, created such chaos in his mind that he was plagued by terrible nightmares. Among other distressing scenarios, he imagined himself in danger of dying in a fire that he thought had engulfed his room. This vision left such a strong impression on him that he terrified the entire house with repeated screams of “Fire! fire!” He even jumped out of bed, still fast asleep. The lovers were very unpleasantly interrupted by this horrifying shout, and Mrs. Hornbeck, rushing to the door in a panic, felt mortified to see the footman enter her husband’s room with a light to inform him of the incident. She realized she would be noticed immediately and could easily guess the consequences unless she could quickly come up with a believable excuse for her absence.
Women are naturally fruitful of expedients in cases of such emergency: she employed but a few seconds in recollection, and, rushing directly towards the apartment of the governor, who still continued to hallo in the same note, exclaimed, in a screaming tone, “Lord have mercy upon us! where! where!” By this time, all the servants were assembled in strange attire: Peregrine burst into Jolter's room, and seeing him stalking in his shirt, with his eyes shut, bestowed such a slap upon his back, as in a moment dissolved his dream, and restored him to the use of his senses. He was astonished and ashamed at being discovered in such an indecent attitude; and, taking refuge under the clothes, asked pardon of all present for the disturbance he had occasioned; soliciting, with great humility, the forgiveness of the lady, who, to a miracle, counterfeited the utmost agitation of terror and surprise. Meanwhile Hornbeck, being awaked by the repeated efforts of his man, no sooner understood that his wife was missing, than all the chimeras of jealousy taking possession of his imagination, he started up in a sort of frenzy, and, snatching his sword, flew straight to Peregrine's chamber; where, though he found not that which he looked for, he unluckily perceived an under-petticoat, which his wife had forgot in the hurry of her retreat. This discovery added fuel to the flame of his resentment. He seized the fatal proof of his dishonour, and, meeting his spouse in her return to bed, presented it to her view, with a most expressive countenance, “Madam, you have dropped your under-petticoat in the next room.”
Women are naturally quick to come up with solutions in emergencies: she took just a few seconds to think, then rushed straight to the governor's room, where he was still shouting in the same tone, and yelled, in a panicked voice, “Lord have mercy! Where! Where!” By this point, all the servants had gathered in their odd outfits: Peregrine burst into Jolter's room and saw him walking around in his shirt with his eyes closed. He slapped him on the back, which instantly woke him from his dream and brought him back to his senses. He was shocked and embarrassed to be caught in such an awkward situation; he hid under the blankets and apologized to everyone for the disruption he had caused, humbly asking for the lady's forgiveness, who, incredibly, faked extreme terror and surprise. Meanwhile, Hornbeck, awakened by his man’s persistent efforts, as soon as he realized his wife was missing, was overwhelmed by jealous thoughts. He jumped up in a fit and grabbed his sword, rushing straight to Peregrine's room. Although he didn’t find what he was looking for, he unfortunate discovered an under-petticoat that his wife had left behind in her flight. This discovery only added to his anger. He took the damning evidence of his dishonor and, upon encountering his wife as she returned to bed, presented it to her, with a look that said it all, “Madam, you’ve dropped your under-petticoat in the next room.”
Mrs. Hornbeck, who inherited from nature a most admirable presence of mind, looked earnestly at the object in question, and, with incredible serenity of countenance, affirmed that the petticoat must belong to the house, for she had none such in her possession. Peregrine, who walked behind her, hearing this asseveration, immediately interposed, and pulling Hornbeck by the sleeve into his chamber, “Gadszooks!” said he, “what business had you with that petticoat? Can't you let a young fellow enjoy a little amour with an innkeeper's daughter, without exposing his infirmities to your wife? Pshaw! that's so malicious, because you have quitted these adventures yourself, to spoil the sport of other people.”
Mrs. Hornbeck, who naturally had a remarkable presence of mind, looked intently at the item in question and, with incredible calmness, declared that the petticoat must belong to the house, since she didn't own anything like it. Peregrine, who was walking behind her, overhearing this assertion, immediately stepped in and pulled Hornbeck by the sleeve into his room. “Goodness!” he exclaimed, “what were you doing with that petticoat? Can't you let a young man enjoy a little romance with an innkeeper's daughter without exposing his shortcomings to your wife? Come on! That’s so mean, just because you’ve given up on these escapades yourself, you want to ruin the fun for others.”
The poor husband was so confounded at the effrontery of his wife, and this cavalier declaration of the young man, that his faith began to waver; he distrusted his own conscious diffidence of temper, which, that he might not expose, he expressed no doubts of Peregrine's veracity; but, asking pardon for the mistake he had committed, retired. He was not yet satisfied with the behaviour of his ingenious helpmate, but on the contrary determined to inquire more minutely into the circumstances of this adventure, which turned out so little to his satisfaction, that he ordered his servant to get everything ready for his departure by break of day; and when our adventurer rose next morning, he found that his fellow-travellers were gone above three hours, though they had agreed to stay all the forenoon, with a view of seeing the prince of Conde's palace, and to proceed all together for Paris in the afternoon.
The poor husband was so shocked by his wife's boldness and the young man's casual confession that he started to doubt himself; he didn't trust his own shy nature and, to avoid showing this, didn't question Peregrine's honesty. Instead, he apologized for his earlier mistake and left. He still wasn’t satisfied with his clever partner’s behavior, and he decided to dig deeper into the details of this situation, which turned out to upset him so much that he told his servant to prepare for his departure at dawn. When our adventurer woke up the next morning, he discovered that his travel companions had left more than three hours earlier, even though they had planned to stay the whole morning to see the Prince of Conde’s palace and then head to Paris together in the afternoon.
Peregrine was a little chagrined, when he understood that he was so suddenly deprived of this untasted morsel; and Jolter could not conceive the meaning of their abrupt and uncivil disappearance, which, after many profound conjectures, he accounted for, by supposing that Hornbeck was some sharper who had run away with an heiress, whom he found it necessary to conceal from the inquiry of her friends. The pupil, who was well assured of the true motive, allowed his governor to enjoy the triumph of his own penetration, and consoled himself with the hope of seeing his dulcinea again at some of the public places in Paris, which he proposed to frequent. Thus comforted, he visited the magnificent stables and palace of Chantilly, and immediately after dinner set out for Paris, where they arrived in the evening, and hired apartments at an hotel in the Faubourg St. Germaine, not far from the playhouse.
Peregrine felt a bit embarrassed when he realized he had suddenly missed out on that untasted treat; and Jolter couldn’t grasp why they had left so abruptly and rudely. After much deep thinking, he concluded that Hornbeck was a con artist who had taken off with a rich heiress, and he felt it was necessary to hide her from her friends’ inquiries. The pupil, who was well aware of the real reason, let his tutor enjoy the triumph of his own insight and comforted himself with the hope of seeing his beloved again at some public places in Paris that he planned to visit. Feeling reassured, he checked out the stunning stables and palace of Chantilly, and right after dinner, they headed to Paris, arriving in the evening where they rented a room at a hotel in the Faubourg St. Germain, not far from the theater.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
He is involved in an Adventure at Paris, and taken prisoner by the City Guard—Becomes acquainted with a French Nobleman, who introduces him in the Beau Monde.
He is caught up in an adventure in Paris and gets captured by the City Guard. He meets a French nobleman, who introduces him to high society.
They were no sooner settled in these lodgings, than our hero wrote to his uncle an account of their safe arrival, and sent another letter to his friend Gauntlet, with a very tender billet inclosed for his dear Emilia, to whom he repeated all his former vows of constancy and love.
They had barely settled into their new place when our hero wrote to his uncle to let him know they had arrived safely. He also sent another letter to his friend Gauntlet, which included a very sweet note for his beloved Emilia, where he reaffirmed all his previous promises of loyalty and love.
The next care that engrossed him was that of bespeaking several suits of clothes suitable to the French mode; and, in the mean time, he never appeared abroad, except in the English coffee-house, where he soon became acquainted with some of his own countrymen, who were at Paris on the same footing with himself. The third evening after his journey, he was engaged in a party of those young sparks, at the house of a noted traiteur, whose wife was remarkably handsome, and otherwise extremely well qualified for alluring customers to her house. To this lady our young gentleman was introduced as a stranger fresh from England; and he was charmed with her personal accomplishments, as well as with the freedom and gaiety of her conversation. Her frank deportment persuaded him that she was one of those kind creatures who granted favours to the best bidder: on this supposition he began to be so importunate in his addresses, that the fair bourgeoise was compelled to cry aloud in defence of her own virtue. Her husband ran immediately to her assistance, and finding her in a very alarming situation, flew upon her ravisher with such fury, that he was fain to quit his prey, and turn against the exasperated traiteur, whom he punished without mercy for his impudent intrusion. The lady, seeing her yoke-fellow treated with so little respect, espoused his cause, and, fixing her nails in his antagonist's face, sacrificed all one side of his nose. The noise of this encounter brought all the servants of the house to the rescue of their master; and Peregrine's company opposing them, a general battle ensued, in which the French were totally routed, the wife insulted, and the husband kicked downstairs.
The next thing on his mind was arranging to buy several outfits that fit the French style. Meanwhile, he only went out to the English coffee house, where he quickly got to know some fellow countrymen who were in Paris for similar reasons. On the third evening after arriving, he found himself in a group of young men at the home of a well-known caterer, whose wife was not only stunning but also very skilled at attracting customers. This young man was introduced to her as a newcomer from England, and he was captivated by her beauty and the lively nature of her conversation. Her open demeanor led him to believe she was the type of woman who would grant favors to the highest bidder. With this assumption, he became so persistent in his advances that the beautiful woman had to loudly defend her virtue. Her husband rushed to her aid and, seeing her in a compromising situation, attacked the young man with such anger that he was forced to abandon his pursuit and confront the furious caterer, whom he punished severely for being so brazen. The wife, witnessing her husband being treated so poorly, joined in his defense and, digging her nails into the man's face, tore off a large chunk of his nose. The ruckus drew all the servants to help their master, and with Peregrine's friends standing against them, a full-blown fight erupted, resulting in a complete defeat for the French, the wife being insulted, and the husband being kicked down the stairs.
The publican, enraged at the indignity which had been offered to him and his family, went out into the street, and implored the protection of the guet, or city guard, which, having heard his complaint, fixed their bayonets and surrounded the door, to the number of twelve or fourteen. The young gentlemen, flushed with their success, and considering the soldiers as so many London watchmen whom they had often put to flight, drew their swords, and sallied out, with Peregrine at their head. Whether the guard respected them as foreigners, or inexperienced youths intoxicated with liquor, they opened to right and left, and gave them room to pass without opposition. This complaisance, which was the effect of compassion, being misinterpreted by the English leader, he, out of mere wantonness, attempted to trip up the heels of the soldier that stood next him, but failed in the execution, and received a blow on his breast with the butt-end of a fusil, that made him stagger several paces backward. Incensed at this audacious application, the whole company charged the detachment sword in hand and, after an obstinate engagement, in which divers wounds were given and received, every soul of them was taken, and conveyed to the main-guard. The commanding officer being made acquainted with the circumstances of the quarrel, in consideration of their youth and national ferocity, for which the French make large allowances, set them all at liberty, after having gently rebuked them for the irregularity and insolence of their conduct; so that all our hero acquired by his gallantry and courage, was a number of scandalous marks upon his visage that confined him a whole week to his chamber. It was impossible to conceal this disaster from Mr. Jolter, who, having obtained intelligence of the particulars, did not fail to remonstrate against the rashness of the adventure, which, he observed, must have been fatal to them, had their enemies been other than Frenchmen, who, of all people under the sun, most rigorously observe the laws of hospitality.
The pub owner, furious about the disrespect shown to him and his family, stepped out onto the street and asked the city guard for help. After hearing his complaint, they armed themselves and surrounded the entrance with about twelve or fourteen soldiers. The young men, feeling triumphant and treating the soldiers like just another set of London watchmen they had often scared off, drew their swords and charged out, with Peregrine leading the way. Whether the guard respected them as foreigners or just saw them as inexperienced, drunken youths, they parted to let them through without any resistance. This kindness, stemming from sympathy, was misunderstood by the English leader, who, just for mischief, tried to trip the soldier next to him but missed and ended up getting hit in the chest with a rifle butt, which knocked him back a few steps. Furious at this bold move, the entire group rushed at the soldiers with their swords drawn, and after a fierce fight, where many injuries were exchanged, they were all captured and taken to the main guard. When the commanding officer heard about the fight, considering their youth and the stereotypical recklessness of the French, who are usually lenient about such things, he let them all go after giving them a gentle scolding for their unruly and disrespectful behavior. So all our hero gained from his bravery was some embarrassing marks on his face that kept him stuck in his room for a whole week. It was impossible to hide this setback from Mr. Jolter, who, once he learned what happened, made sure to criticize the foolishness of the whole stunt, pointing out that it could have ended badly for them if their opponents had been anyone other than the French, who are known to be very strict about hospitality.
As the governor's acquaintance lay chiefly among Irish and English priests, and a set of low people who live by making themselves necessary to strangers, either in teaching the French language, or executing small commissions with which they are intrusted, he was not the most proper person in the world for regulating the taste of a young gentleman who travelled for improvement, in expectation of making a figure one day in his own country. Being conscious of his own incapacity, he contented himself with the office of a steward, and kept a faithful account of all the money that was disbursed in the course of their family expense: not but that he was acquainted with all the places which were visited by strangers on their first arrival at Paris; and he knew to a liard what was commonly given to the Swiss of each remarkable hotel; though, with respect to the curious painting and statuary that everywhere abounded in that metropolis, he was more ignorant than the domestic that attends for a livre a day.
As the governor's connections were mostly with Irish and English priests and a group of lowly people who make themselves useful to strangers by teaching French or running small errands, he wasn't the best person to refine the taste of a young man traveling for self-improvement, hoping to make a name for himself one day in his own country. Aware of his own limitations, he settled for the role of a steward, keeping a detailed record of all the money spent on family expenses. Still, he was familiar with all the spots that tourists typically visit upon arriving in Paris, and he knew exactly how much to tip the Swiss staff at each notable hotel; however, when it came to the impressive paintings and sculptures found throughout the city, he was even less informed than a local who earns a livre a day.
In short, Mr. Jolter could give a very good account of the stages on the road, and save the expense of Antonini's detail of the curiosities in Paris: he was a connoisseur in ordinaries, from twelve to five-and-thirty livres, knew all the rates of fiacre and remise, could dispute with a tailleur or a traiteur upon the articles of his bill, and scold the servants in tolerable French. But the laws, customs, and genius of the people, the characters of individuals, and scenes of polished life, were subjects which he had neither opportunities to observe, inclination to consider, nor discernment to distinguish. All his maxims were the suggestions of pedantry and prejudice; so that his perception was obscured, his judgment biased, his address awkward, and his conversation absurd and unentertaining: yet such as I have represented this tutor, are the greatest part of those animals who lead raw boys about the world, under the denomination of travelling governors. Peregrine, therefore, being perfectly well acquainted with the extent of Mr. Jolter's abilities, never dreamt of consulting him in the disposition of his conduct, but parcelled out his time to the dictates of his own reflection, and the information and direction of his companions, who had lived longer in France, and consequently were better acquainted with the pleasures of the place.
In short, Mr. Jolter could give a detailed account of the routes and save the cost of Antonini's insights on the curiosities in Paris: he was a knowledgeable expert on everyday life, from twelve to thirty-five livres, knew all the rates for carriages and taxis, could argue with a tailor or a caterer about charges on his bill, and scold the staff in decent French. However, he had no opportunities to observe, interest to think about, or skill to understand the laws, customs, and spirit of the people, the personalities of individuals, and the nuances of high society. His ideas were mainly influenced by bookishness and bias, so his perception was clouded, his judgment skewed, his manners clumsy, and his conversations absurd and uninteresting. Yet, the way I've described this tutor reflects the majority of those individuals who guide inexperienced young men around the world, known as traveling governors. Therefore, Peregrine, fully aware of Mr. Jolter's limitations, never considered consulting him on how to behave but instead shaped his time based on his own reflections and the advice and guidance of his friends, who had spent more time in France and were thus more familiar with the pleasures of the place.
As soon as he was in a condition to appear a la Francaise, he hired a genteel chariot by the month, made the tour of the Luxembourg gallery, Palais Royal, all the remarkable hotels, churches, and celebrated places in Paris; visited St. Cloud, Marli, Versailles, Trianon, St. Germaine, and Fountainebleau, enjoyed the opera, Italian and French comedy; and seldom failed of appearing in the public walks, in hopes of meeting with Mrs. Hornbeck, or some adventure suited to his romantic disposition. He never doubted that his person would attract the notice of some distinguished inamorata, and was vain enough to believe that few female hearts were able to resist the artillery of his accomplishments, should he once find an opportunity of planting it to advantage. He presented himself, however, at all the spectacles for many weeks, without reaping the fruits of his expectation; and began to entertain a very indifferent idea of the French discernment, which had overlooked him so long, when one day, in his way to the opera, his chariot was stopped by an embarrass in the street, occasioned by two peasants, who having driven their carts against each other, quarrelled, and went to loggerheads on the spot. Such a rencounter is so uncommon in France, that the people shut up their shops, and from their windows threw cold water upon the combatants, with a view of putting an end to the battle, which was maintained with great fury, and very little skill, until one of them receiving an accidental fall, the other took the advantage of this misfortune, and, fastening upon him, as he lay, began to thump the pavement with his head.
As soon as he was ready to look stylish, he rented a classy carriage for the month and explored the Luxembourg gallery, Palais Royal, all the notable hotels, churches, and famous spots in Paris. He visited St. Cloud, Marli, Versailles, Trianon, St. Germain, and Fontainebleau, enjoyed the opera, and watched Italian and French comedies. He often appeared in public parks, hoping to run into Mrs. Hornbeck or have some experience that suited his romantic nature. He was confident that his looks would catch the eye of some distinguished woman and was vain enough to think that few women could resist his charm if he found the right moment to shine. However, he attended various events for many weeks without achieving the results he expected and began to think lowly of the French judgment for having overlooked him for so long. One day, while heading to the opera, his carriage was halted by a commotion in the street caused by two peasants who had crashed their carts into each other and were now arguing fiercely. Such an incident is so rare in France that people closed their shops and poured cold water on the fighters from their windows to try to break up the brawl, which was intense but skill-less, until one of them accidentally fell. Taking advantage of this misfortune, the other jumped on him while he was down and started banging his head against the pavement.
Our hero's equipage being detained close by the field of this contention, Pipes could not bear to see the laws of boxing so scandalously transgressed, and, leaping from his station, pulled the offender from his antagonist, whom he raised up, and in the English language encouraged to a second essay, instructing him at the same time by clenching his fists according to art, and putting himself in a proper attitude. Thus confirmed, the enraged carman sprang upon his foe, and in all appearance would have effectually revenged the injury he had sustained, if he had not been prevented by the interposition of a lacquey belonging to a nobleman, whose coach was obliged to halt in consequence of the dispute. This footman, who was distinguished by a cane, descending from his post, without the least ceremony or expostulation, began to employ his weapon upon the head and shoulders of the peasant who had been patronized by Pipes; upon which, Thomas, resenting such ungenerous behaviour, bestowed such a stomacher upon the officious intermeddler, as discomposed the whole economy of his entrails, and obliged him to discharge the interjection Ah! with demonstrations of great anguish and amazement. The other two footmen who stood behind the coach, seeing their fellow-servant so insolently assaulted, flew to his assistance, and rallied a most disagreeable shower upon the head of his aggressor, who had no means of diversion or defence.
Our hero's gear was stuck right by the field of this fight, and Pipes couldn't stand to watch the rules of boxing being so blatantly broken. Jumping from his spot, he pulled the offender away from his opponent, lifted him up, and encouraged him in English for another round, showing him how to properly clench his fists and get into the right stance. With newfound confidence, the furious carman charged at his foe, and it seemed like he was about to take revenge for the injury he suffered, but he was stopped by a servant of a nobleman, whose coach had to stop because of the argument. This footman, identifiable by a cane, came down from his post, without any hesitation or warning, and started using his cane on the head and shoulders of the peasant that Pipes had supported. Thomas, outraged by such unfair behavior, delivered a blow to the meddling servant that disrupted his insides and made him cry out “Ah!” in great pain and shock. The other two footmen standing behind the coach, seeing their fellow servant being so rudely attacked, rushed to help him and unleashed a barrage of blows on Thomas, who had no way to escape or defend himself.
Peregrine, though he did not approve of Tom's conduct, could not bear to see him so roughly handled, especially as he thought his own honour concerned in the fray; and therefore, quitting his machine, came to the rescue of his attendant, and charged his adversaries sword in hand. Two of them no sooner perceived this reinforcement, than they betook themselves to flight; and Pipes, having twisted the cane out of the hands of the third, belaboured him so unmercifully, that our hero thought proper to interpose his authority in his behalf. The common people stood aghast at this unprecedented boldness of Pickle, who understanding that the person whose servants he had disciplined was a general and prince of the blood, went up to the coach, and asked pardon for what he had done, imputing his own behaviour to his ignorance of the other's quality. The old nobleman accepted of his apology with great politeness, thanking him for the trouble he had taken to reform the manners of his domestics; and guessing from our youth's appearance that he was some stranger of condition, very courteously invited him into the coach, on the supposition that they were both going to the opera. Pickle gladly embraced this opportunity of becoming acquainted with a person of such rank, and, ordering his own chariot to follow, accompanied the count to his loge, where he conversed with him during the whole entertainment.
Peregrine, although he didn't approve of Tom's behavior, couldn't stand to see him treated so roughly, especially since he believed his own honor was at stake in the situation. So, leaving his machine behind, he rushed to help his companion and confronted his opponents with a sword in hand. As soon as two of them noticed this reinforcements, they took off running; and Pipes, having wrestled the cane away from the third guy, beat him so badly that our hero thought it was best to step in and assert his authority on his behalf. The crowd was stunned by this unexpected bravery from Pickle, who, realizing that the person he had just disciplined was a general and a member of royalty, approached the coach to apologize for his actions, attributing his behavior to a misunderstanding of the other's status. The elderly nobleman accepted his apology graciously, thanking him for the trouble he took to correct the behavior of his servants. Sensing from the young man's appearance that he was someone of importance, he kindly invited him into the coach, assuming they were both headed to the opera. Pickle eagerly took this chance to meet someone of such high rank and, instructing his own carriage to follow, accompanied the count to his box, where they chatted throughout the entire performance.
He soon perceived that Peregrine was not deficient in spirit or sense, and seemed particularly pleased with his engaging manner and easy deportment, qualifications for which the English nation is by no means remarkable in France, and therefore the more conspicuous and agreeable in the character of our hero, whom the nobleman carried home that same evening, and introduced to his lady and several persons of fashion who supped at his house. Peregrine was quite captivated by their affable behaviour and the vivacity of their discourse; and, after having been honoured with particular marks of consideration, took his leave, fully determined to cultivate such a valuable acquaintance.
He soon realized that Peregrine was not lacking in spirit or intelligence, and he seemed especially pleased with his charming demeanor and relaxed presence—qualities that are not very common among the English in France, making them all the more noticeable and enjoyable in our hero's character. That same evening, the nobleman brought him home and introduced him to his wife and several fashionable guests who were having dinner at his house. Peregrine was truly enchanted by their friendly behavior and lively conversation; after being given special attention, he said his goodbyes, fully intent on fostering such a valuable friendship.
His vanity suggested, that now the time was come when he should profit by his talents among the fair sex, on whom he resolved to employ his utmost art and address. With this view he assiduously engaged in all parties to which he had access by means of his noble friend, who let slip no opportunity of gratifying his ambition. He for some time shared in all his amusements, and was entertained in many of the best families of France; but he did not long enjoy that elevation of hope, which had flattered his imagination. He soon perceived that it would be impossible to maintain the honourable connections he had made, without engaging every day at quadrille, or, in other words, losing his money; for every person of rank, whether male or female, was a professed gamester, who knew and practised all the finesse of the art, of which he was entirely ignorant. Besides, he began to find himself a mere novice in French gallantry, which is supported by an amazing volubility of tongue, and obsequious and incredible attention to trifles, a surprising faculty of laughing out of pure complaisance, and a nothingness of conversation which he could never attain. In short, our hero, who among his own countrymen would have passed for a sprightly, entertaining fellow, was considered in the brilliant assemblies of France as a youth of a very phlegmatic disposition. No wonder, then, that his pride was mortified at his own want of importance, which he did not fail to ascribe to their defect in point of judgment and taste. He conceived a disgust at the mercenary conduct, as well as the shallow intellects, of the ladies; and after he had spent some months, and a round sum of money, in fruitless attendance and addresses, he fairly quitted the pursuit, and consoled himself with the conversation of a merry fille de joie, whose good graces he acquired by an allowance of twenty louis per month. That he might the more easily afford this expense, he dismissed his chariot and French lacquey at the same time.
His vanity told him that the time had come for him to make the most of his talents with women, and he was determined to use all his charm and skill. With this goal in mind, he eagerly participated in every social event he could attend thanks to his noble friend, who never missed a chance to help him pursue his ambitions. For a while, he enjoyed all the fun and was welcomed into many of the best families in France; however, he didn’t hold onto the lofty expectations that had flattered his imagination for long. He quickly realized he couldn't maintain the respectable connections he'd made without playing quadrille every day, which meant losing his money; every nobleman or noblewoman he met was a dedicated gambler who knew all the tricks of the trade, of which he was completely unaware. Additionally, he began to notice that he was just a novice in French flirting, which relied on an astonishing ability to talk endlessly, an excessive attention to trivial matters, a surprising knack for laughing just to be polite, and a lack of substance in conversation that he could never master. In short, our hero, who would have been seen as a lively and entertaining guy among his fellow countrymen, was viewed in the glamorous circles of France as someone with an extremely dull personality. It's no surprise that his pride was hurt by his own insignificance, which he blamed on their poor judgment and taste. He grew disgusted with the mercenary behavior and shallow minds of the women; after spending several months and a considerable amount of money in unproductive courtship, he gave up entirely and found solace in the company of a cheerful courtesan, whose favor he secured with an allowance of twenty louis a month. To make this expense more manageable, he dismissed his carriage and French servant at the same time.
He then entered himself in a noted academy, in order to finish his exercises, and contracted an acquaintance with a few sensible people, whom he distinguished at the coffee-house and ordinary to which he resorted, and who contributed not a little to the improvement of his knowledge and taste; for, prejudice apart, it must be owned that France abounds with men of consummate honour, profound sagacity, and the most liberal education. From the conversation of such, he obtained a distinct idea of their government and constitution; and though he could not help admiring the excellent order and economy of their police, the result of all his inquiries was self-congratulation on his title to the privileges of a British subject. Indeed this invaluable birthright was rendered conspicuous by such flagrant occurrences, which fell every day almost under his observation, that nothing but the grossest prejudice could dispute its existence.
He then enrolled in a well-known academy to complete his studies and made friends with a few smart people he met at the café and the gatherings he attended, who really helped him enhance his knowledge and taste. Setting aside any biases, it's true that France has many individuals of great honor, deep wisdom, and the most comprehensive education. From talking with them, he gained a clear understanding of their government and system; while he couldn't help but admire the excellent order and efficiency of their police, in the end, all his inquiries led him to feel proud of being a British citizen. Indeed, this priceless birthright was highlighted by so many shocking events he observed almost daily that only the most extreme prejudice could deny its existence.
CHAPTER XL.
Acquires a distinct Idea of the French Government—Quarrels with a Mousquetaire, whom he afterwards fights and vanquishes, after having punished him for interfering in his amorous Recreations.
Acquires a clear understanding of the French Government—gets into a fight with a Musketeer, whom he later battles and defeats, after dealing with him for meddling in his romantic pursuits.
Among many other instances of the same nature, I believe it will not be amiss to exhibit a few specimens of their administration, which happened during his abode at Paris; that those who have not the opportunity of observing for themselves, or are in danger of being influenced by misrepresentation, may compare their own condition with that of their neighbours, and do justice to the constitution under which they live.
Among many other similar cases, I think it’s worthwhile to show a few examples of their governance that took place during his time in Paris. This way, those who can’t observe things for themselves or might be swayed by misinformation can compare their own situation with that of their neighbors and fairly assess the system they live under.
A lady of distinguished character having been lampooned by some obscure scribbler, who could not be discovered, the ministry, in consequence of her complaint, ordered no fewer than five-and-twenty abbes to be apprehended and sent to the Bastille, on the maxim of Herod, when he commanded the innocents to be murdered, hoping that the principal object of his cruelty would not escape in the general calamity; and the friends of those unhappy prisoners durst not even complain of the unjust persecution, but shrugged up their shoulders, and in silence deplored their misfortune, uncertain whether or not they should ever set eyes on them again.
A woman of notable character was mocked by some unknown writer, who couldn't be found. In response to her complaint, the ministry ordered that twenty-five abbots be arrested and sent to the Bastille, following Herod's principle when he ordered the murder of innocents, hoping that the main target of his cruelty wouldn't escape amid the widespread disaster. The friends of those unfortunate prisoners didn’t even dare to complain about the unfair persecution; they simply shrugged and silently mourned their misfortune, unsure if they would ever see them again.
About the same time a gentleman of family, who had been oppressed by a certain powerful duke that lived in the neighbourhood, found means to be introduced to the king, who, receiving his petition very graciously, asked in what regiment he served; and when the memorialist answered that he had not the honour of being in the service, returned the paper unopened, and refused to hear one circumstance of his complaint; so that, far from being redressed, he remained more than ever exposed to the tyranny of his oppressors; nay, so notorious is the discouragement of all those who presume to live independent of court favour and connections that one of the gentlemen, whose friendship Peregrine cultivated, frankly owned he was in possession of a most romantic place in one of the provinces, and deeply enamoured of a country life; and yet he durst not reside upon his own estate, lest, by slackening in his attendance upon the great, who honoured him with their protection, he should fall a prey to some rapacious intendant.
Around the same time, a man from a noble family, who had been oppressed by a powerful duke living nearby, found a way to get an audience with the king. The king graciously accepted his petition and asked which regiment he served in. When the man replied that he wasn’t in the service, the king returned the paper unopened and refused to listen to any details of his complaint. As a result, instead of receiving any help, he was left even more vulnerable to the tyranny of his oppressors. It’s well-known that those who dare to live without the favor and connections of the court face serious discouragement. One of the men who was friends with Peregrine openly admitted that he owned a beautiful estate in one of the provinces and loved country life; however, he felt he couldn’t live on his own land, fearing that if he slacked off in his obligations to the powerful individuals who provided him protection, he might become a target for some greedy official.
As for the common people, they are so much inured to the scourge and insolence of power, that every shabby subaltern, every beggarly cadet of the noblesse, every low retainer to the court, insults and injures them with impunity. A certain ecuyer, or horsedealer, belonging to the king, being one day under the hands of a barber, who happened to cut the head of a pimple on his face, he started up, and drawing his sword, wounded him desperately in the shoulder. The poor tradesman, hurt as he was, made an effort to retire, and was followed by this barbarous assassin, who, not contented with the vengeance he had taken, plunged his sword a second time into his body, and killed him on the spot. Having performed this inhuman exploit, he dressed himself with great deliberation, and going to Versailles, immediately obtained a pardon for what he had done; triumphing in his brutality with such insolence, that the very next time he had occasion to be shaved he sat with his sword ready drawn, in order to repeat the murder, in case the barber should commit the same mistake. Yet so tamed are those poor people to subjection, that when Peregrine mentioned this assassination to his own trimmer, with expressions of horror and detestation, the infatuated wretch replied, that without all doubt it was a misfortune, but it proceeded from the gentleman's passion; and observed, by way of encomium on the government, that such vivacity is never punished in France.
As for regular people, they're so used to the abuse and arrogance of power that every petty low-ranking official, every broke member of the nobility, and every lowly court servant insults and mistreats them without fear of consequences. One day, a certain horse dealer working for the king was getting his haircut when the barber accidentally nicked a pimple on his face. He jumped up, drew his sword, and wounded the barber badly in the shoulder. Despite his injury, the poor barber tried to get away, but the violent attacker followed him and, not satisfied with the first attack, stabbed him again, killing him instantly. After committing this brutal act, he calmly got dressed and went to Versailles, where he quickly received a pardon for his actions, boasting about his brutality with such arrogance that the next time he needed a shave, he sat there with his sword drawn, ready to kill again if the barber made the same mistake. Yet, the regular folks are so beaten down that when Peregrine mentioned this murder to his barber with horror and disgust, the foolish man replied that it was indeed unfortunate, but it came from the gentleman's anger; he even remarked, praising the government, that such impulsiveness is never punished in France.
A few days after this outrage was committed, our youth, who was a professed enemy to all oppression, being in one of the first loges at the comedy, was eye-witness of an adventure which filled him with indignation: a tall, ferocious fellow, in the parterre, without the least provocation, but prompted by the mere wantonness of pride, took hold of the hat of a very decent young man who happened to stand before him, and twirled it round upon his head. The party thus offended turned to his aggressor, and civilly asked the reason of such treatment: but he received no answer; and when he looked the other way, the insult was repeated: upon which he expressed his resentment as became a man of spirit, and desired the offender to walk out with him. No sooner did he thus signify his intention, than his adversary, swelling with rage, cocked his hat fiercely in his face, and, fixing his hands in his sides, pronounced, with the most imperious tone, “Hark ye, Mr. Round Periwig, you must know that I am a mousquetaire.” Scarce had this awful word escaped from his lips, when the blood forsook the lips of the poor challenger, who, with the most abject submission, begged pardon for his presumption, and with difficulty obtained it, on condition that he should immediately quit the place. Having thus exercised his authority, he turned to one of his companions, and, with an air of disdainful ridicule, told him he was like to have had an affair with a bourgeois; adding, by way of heightening the irony, “Egad! I believe he is a physician.”
A few days after this outrage occurred, our young friend, who was a known enemy of all oppression, was in one of the front rows at the theater when he witnessed an event that filled him with anger: a tall, aggressive guy in the audience, without any provocation, and just out of sheer arrogance, grabbed the hat of a well-mannered young man standing in front of him and spun it around on his head. The offended young man turned to his attacker and politely asked why he was being treated this way, but received no response. When he looked away, the insult happened again. Upset, he stood up for himself and asked the aggressor to step outside with him. As soon as he made this clear, the other man, seething with rage, shoved his hat in his face and, with his hands on his hips, declared in a commanding tone, “Listen up, Mr. Round Wig, you need to know that I am a musketeer.” Hardly had this alarming term left his lips when the challenger’s face went pale, and with the most submissive attitude, he apologized for his rudeness and barely got the apology accepted, under the condition that he would leave immediately. After asserting his authority, he turned to one of his friends and, with a mocking tone, said that he almost had a confrontation with a commoner, adding, to amplify the sarcasm, “By God! I think he’s a doctor.”
Our hero was so much shocked and irritated at this licentious behaviour, that he could not suppress his resentment, which he manifested by saying to this Hector, “Sir, a physician may be a man of honour.” To this remonstrance, which was delivered with a very significant countenance, the mousquetaire made no other reply, but that of echoing his assertion with a loud laugh, in which he was joined by his confederates. Peregrine, glowing with resentment, called him a fanfaron, and withdrew in expectation of being followed into the street. The other understood the hint; and a rencounter must have ensued had not the officer of the guard, who overheard what passed, prevented their meeting, by putting the mousquetaire immediately under arrest. Our young gentleman waited at the door of the parterre, until he was informed of this interposition, and then went home very much chagrined at his disappointment; for he was an utter stranger to fear and diffidence on those occasions, and had set his heart upon chastising the insolence of this bully, who had treated him with such disrespect.
Our hero was so shocked and irritated by this reckless behavior that he couldn’t hold back his anger, which he expressed by saying to this guy, “Sir, a doctor can be a man of honor.” In response to this remark, which he delivered with a very telling expression, the musketeer simply echoed his statement with a loud laugh, joined by his friends. Peregrine, seething with anger, called him a braggart and left, expecting to be followed into the street. The other understood the hint; a confrontation would have happened if the guard officer hadn’t overheard them and stepped in, putting the musketeer under arrest right away. Our young gentleman waited at the door of the parterre until he learned about this intervention and then went home feeling very disappointed; he was no stranger to courage and confidence in these situations and had been determined to punish the insolence of this bully who had disrespected him.
This adventure was not so private but that it reached the ears of Mr. Jolter by the canal of some English gentlemen who were present when it happened; and the governor, who entertained a most dreadful idea of the mousquetaires, being alarmed at a quarrel, the consequence of which might be fatal to his charge, waited on the British ambassador, and begged he would take Peregrine under his immediate protection. His excellency, having heard the circumstances of the dispute, sent one of his gentlemen to invite the youth to dinner; and after having assured him that he might depend upon his countenance and regard, represented the rashness and impetuosity of his conduct so much to his conviction, that he promised to act more circumspectly for the future, and drop all thoughts of the mousquetaire from that moment.
This adventure wasn't so private that it didn't reach Mr. Jolter through some English gentlemen who were there when it happened. The governor, who had a very scary idea of the musketeers, got worried about a fight that could be dangerous for his charge. He approached the British ambassador and asked him to take Peregrine under his protection. The ambassador, after hearing about the dispute, sent one of his aides to invite the young man to dinner. After reassuring him that he could count on his support and friendship, he made Peregrine realize how reckless and impulsive his actions were, to the point that he agreed to be more cautious in the future and forget all thoughts of the musketeers from that moment on.
A few days after he had taken this laudable resolution, Pipes, who had carried a billet to his mistress, informed him that he had perceived a laced hat lying upon a marble slab in her apartment; and that when she came out of her own chamber to receive the letter, she appeared in manifest disorder. From these hints of intelligence our young gentleman suspected, or rather made no doubt of, her infidelity; and being by this time well nigh cloyed with possession, was not sorry to find she had given him cause to renounce her correspondence. That he might therefore detect her in the very breach of duty, and at the same time punish the gallant who had the presumption to invade his territories, he concerted with himself a plan which was executed in this manner. During his next interview with his dulcinea, far from discovering the least sign of jealousy or discontent, he affected the appearance of extraordinary fondness, and, after having spent the afternoon with the show of uncommon satisfaction, told her he was engaged in a party for Fountainebleau, and would set out from Paris that same evening; so that he should not have the pleasure of seeing her again for some days.
A few days after he made this commendable decision, Pipes, who had taken a note to his lover, told him that he had seen a laced hat on a marble slab in her room; and when she came out of her own chamber to accept the letter, she looked clearly disheveled. From these hints, our young man suspected, or rather had no doubt about, her unfaithfulness; and by this point, he was almost tired of her, so he wasn't upset to find she had given him a reason to end their relationship. To catch her in the act and at the same time punish the guy who had the audacity to invade his space, he came up with a plan that he executed this way. During his next meeting with her, rather than showing any signs of jealousy or unhappiness, he pretended to be unusually affectionate and, after spending the afternoon seemingly very pleased, told her he was heading to Fountainebleau that evening and wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing her for a few days.
The lady, who was very well versed in the arts of her occupation, pretended to receive this piece of news with great affliction, and conjured him, with such marks of real tenderness, to return as soon as possible to her longing arms, that he went away almost convinced of her sincerity. Determined, however, to prosecute his scheme, he actually departed from Paris with two or three gentlemen of his acquaintance, who had hired a remise for a jaunt to Versailles; and having accompanied them as far as the village of Passe, he returned in the dusk of the evening on foot.
The lady, who was very skilled in her profession, acted as though she took the news very hard and earnestly urged him to come back to her eager embrace as soon as he could, which made him almost believe she was genuine. However, still set on his plan, he left Paris with a few friends who had rented a vehicle for a trip to Versailles; after going with them as far as the village of Passe, he walked back alone as night fell.
He waited impatiently till midnight, and then, arming himself with a brace of pocket-pistols, and attended by trusty Tom with a cudgel in his hand, repaired to the lodgings of his suspected inamorata. Having given Pipes his cue, he knocked gently at the door, which was no sooner opened by the lacquey, than he bolted in, before the fellow could recollect himself from the confusion occasioned by his unexpected appearance; and, leaving Tom to guard the door, ordered the trembling valet to light him upstairs into his lady's apartment. The first object that presented itself to his view, when he entered the antechamber, was a sword upon the table, which he immediately seized, exclaiming, in a loud and menacing voice, that his mistress was false, and then in bed with another gallant, whom he would instantly put to death. This declaration, confirmed by many terrible oaths, he calculated for the hearing of his rival, who, understanding his sanguinary purpose, started up in great trepidation, and, naked as he was, dropped from the balcony into the street, while Peregrine thundered at the door for admittance, and, guessing his design, gave him an opportunity of making this precipitate retreat. Pipes, who stood sentinel at the door, observing the fugitive descend, attacked him with his cudgel; and sweating him from one end of the street to the other, at last committed him to the guet by whom he was conveyed to the officer on duty in a most disgraceful and deplorable condition.
He waited impatiently until midnight, and then, grabbing a couple of pocket pistols and accompanied by his trusty friend Tom with a club in his hand, he went to the place where he thought his lover was. After giving Pipes his signal, he gently knocked on the door. As soon as the servant opened it, he rushed in before the guy could recover from the surprise of his sudden arrival; leaving Tom to guard the door, he ordered the shaking servant to take him upstairs to his lady's room. The first thing he noticed when he entered the small waiting area was a sword on the table, which he quickly grabbed, shouting in a loud and threatening voice that his mistress was unfaithful and sleeping with another man, who he planned to kill right away. This declaration, backed by many terrible oaths, was meant to be heard by his rival, who, realizing his deadly intent, jumped up in panic and, still naked, dropped from the balcony to the street, while Peregrine banged on the door demanding to be let in, giving the man a chance for this hasty escape. Pipes, standing guard at the door, saw the fleeing man and attacked him with his club; chasing him up and down the street, he eventually turned him over to the local watchman, who took him to the officer on duty in a very embarrassing and pathetic state.
Meanwhile Peregrine, having burst open the chamber door, found the lady in the utmost dread and consternation, and the spoils of her favourite scattered about the room; but his resentment was doubly gratified, when he learned, upon inquiry, that the person who had been so disagreeably interrupted was no other than that individual mousquetaire with whom he had quarrelled at the comedy. He upbraided the nymph with her perfidy and ingratitude; and telling her that she must not expect the continuance of his regard, or the appointments which she had hitherto enjoyed from his bounty, went home to his own lodgings, overjoyed at the issue of the adventure.
Meanwhile, Peregrine, having burst open the chamber door, found the lady in sheer panic and distress, with her favorite belongings scattered around the room. His anger was even more satisfied when he discovered, upon asking, that the person who had been so rudely interrupted was none other than the same musketeer he had fought with at the play. He scolded the lady for her betrayal and ingratitude, telling her that she could no longer expect his affection or the privileges she had previously enjoyed from him. He then returned to his own place, thrilled with how everything had turned out.
The soldier, exasperated at the disgrace he had undergone, as well as the outrageous insult of the English valet, whom he believed his master had tutored for that purpose, no sooner extricated himself from the opprobrious situation he had incurred, than, breathing vengeance against the author of the affront, he came to Peregrine's apartment, and demanded satisfaction upon the ramparts next morning before sunrise. Our hero assured him he would not fail to pay his respects to him at the time and place appointed; and foreseeing that he might be prevented from keeping this engagement by the officious care of his governor, who saw the mousquetaire come in, he told Mr. Jolter, that the Frenchman had visited him in consequence of an order he had received from his superiors, to make an apology for his rude behaviour to him in the playhouse, and that they had parted very good friends. This assurance, together with Pickle's tranquil and unconcerned behaviour through the day, quieted the terrors which had begun to take possession of his tutor's imagination; so that the youth had an opportunity of giving him the slip at night, when he betook himself to the lodgings of a friend, whom he engaged as his second, and with whom he immediately took the field, in order to avoid the search which Jolter, upon missing him, might set on foot.
The soldier, frustrated by the humiliation he had faced and the outrageous insult from the English valet, who he believed his master had trained for that purpose, quickly got himself out of the embarrassing situation he was in. Fueled by a desire for revenge against the source of the insult, he went to Peregrine's apartment and demanded satisfaction on the ramparts the next morning before sunrise. Our hero assured him he would show up at the agreed time and place. Anticipating that he might be stopped from keeping this appointment by the meddling concern of his governor, who noticed the mousquetaire arriving, he told Mr. Jolter that the Frenchman had come to apologize for his rude behavior at the theater and that they had parted as good friends. This reassurance, along with Pickle's calm and indifferent demeanor throughout the day, eased the fears that had started to occupy his tutor's mind. This allowed the young man to escape at night to the home of a friend, whom he recruited as his second, and together they quickly set off to avoid the search that Jolter would likely initiate when he noticed he was missing.
This was a necessary precaution; for as he did not appear at supper, and Pipes, who usually attended him in his excursions, could give no account of his motions, the governor was dreadfully alarmed at his absence, and ordered his man to run in quest of his master to all the places which he used to frequent, while he himself went to the commissaire, and, communicating his suspicions, was accommodated with a party of the horse-guards, who patrolled round all the environs of the city, with a view of preventing the rencounter. Pipes might have directed them to the lady, by whose information they could have learned the name and lodgings of the mousquetaire, and if he had been apprehended the duel would not have happened; but he did not choose to run the risk of disobliging his master by intermeddling in the affair, and was moreover very desirous that the Frenchman should be humbled; for he never doubted that Peregrine was more than a match for any two men in France. In this confidence, therefore, he sought his master with great diligence, not with a view of disappointing his intention, but in order to attend him to the battle, that he might stand by him, and see justice done.
This was a necessary precaution; since he didn't show up for dinner, and Pipes, who usually accompanied him on his outings, had no idea where he was, the governor was extremely worried about his absence. He ordered his servant to search for his master in all the places he usually visited, while he himself went to the commissaire. After sharing his concerns, he was provided with a group of horse guards to patrol the surrounding areas of the city to prevent any confrontation. Pipes could have directed them to the lady, who could have provided the name and whereabouts of the mousquetaire, and if he had been caught, the duel wouldn't have taken place. However, he didn’t want to risk upsetting his master by getting involved in the situation, and he was also eager to see the Frenchman brought down a notch, as he firmly believed that Peregrine could handle any two men in France. So, with that confidence in mind, he searched for his master diligently, not to undermine his plans, but to accompany him to the fight and ensure justice was served.
While this inquiry was carried on, our hero and his companion concealed themselves among some weeds, that grew on the edge of the parapet, a few yards from the spot where he had agreed to meet the mousquetaire; and scarce had the morning rendered objects distinguishable when they perceived their men advancing boldly to the place. Peregrine, seeing them approach sprang forward to the ground, that he might have the glory of anticipating his antagonist; and swords being drawn, all four were engaged in a twinkling. Pickle's eagerness had well nigh cost him his life; for, without minding his footing, he flew directly to his opposite, and, stumbling over a stone, was wounded on one side of his head before he could recover his attitude. Far from being dispirited at this check, it served only to animate him the more; being endowed with uncommon agility, he retrieved his posture in a moment; and having parried a second thrust, returned the lunge with such incredible speed, that the soldier had not time to resume his guard, but was immediately run through the bend of his right arm; and the sword dropping out of his hand, our hero's victory was complete.
While this investigation was happening, our hero and his friend hid among some weeds at the edge of the parapet, just a few yards from where he had agreed to meet the musketeer. As the morning light began to reveal the surroundings, they noticed their opponents confidently approaching the spot. Peregrine, eager to get the upper hand, jumped down to the ground, wanting to be the first to confront his rival. In an instant, with swords drawn, all four were engaged in combat. Pickle's eagerness nearly cost him his life; not paying attention to his steps, he rushed directly at his opponent and tripped over a stone, getting wounded on one side of his head before he could regain his stance. Instead of being discouraged by this setback, it only fueled his determination. Gifted with remarkable agility, he quickly got back on his feet and after blocking a second attack, retaliated with such incredible speed that the soldier didn't have time to defend himself and was immediately pierced through the bend of his right arm; the sword fell from his hand, sealing our hero's victory.
Having despatched his own business, and received the acknowledgment of his adversary who, with a look of infinite mortification, answered, that his was the fortune of the day, he ran to part the seconds, just as the weapon was twisted out of his companion's hand: upon which he took his place; and, in all likelihood, an obstinate dispute would have ensued, had they not been interrupted by the guard, at sight of whom the two Frenchmen scampered off. Our young gentleman and his friend allowed themselves to be taken prisoners by the detachment which had been sent out for that purpose, and were carried before the magistrate, who, having sharply reprimanded them for presuming to act in contempt of the laws, set them at liberty, in consideration of their being strangers; cautioning them, at the same time, to beware of such exploits for the future.
Having taken care of his own business and received acknowledgment from his opponent, who looked utterly embarrassed and said it was just bad luck, he rushed to break up the fight, just as the weapon was yanked from his friend's hand. He then took his place, and it’s likely a stubborn argument would have followed if they hadn’t been interrupted by the guards, prompting the two Frenchmen to run off. Our young man and his friend allowed themselves to be captured by the patrol that had been sent for that purpose and were taken before the magistrate, who sternly reprimanded them for daring to act in disregard of the laws. He then let them go, considering they were strangers, while warning them to avoid such actions in the future.
When Peregrine returned to his own lodgings, Pipes, seeing the blood trickling down upon his master's neckcloth and solitaire, gave evident tokens of surprise and concern; not for the consequences of the wound, which he did no suppose dangerous, but for the glory of Old England, which he was afraid had suffered in the engagement; for he could not help saying, with an air of chagrin, as he followed the youth into his chamber, “I do suppose as how you gave that lubberly Frenchman as good as he brought.”
When Peregrine got back to his place, Pipes noticed the blood dripping onto his master's neckcloth and solitaire, showing clear signs of surprise and worry; not because he thought the wound was serious, but for the honor of Old England, which he feared had taken a hit in the fight. He couldn't help but say, with a tone of disappointment, as he followed the young man into his room, “I guess you showed that clumsy Frenchman what you’re made of.”
CHAPTER XLI.
Mr. Jolter threatens to leave him on account of his Misconduct, which he promises to rectify; but his Resolution is defeated by the Impetuosity of his Passions—He meets accidentally with Mrs. Hornbeck, who elopes with him from her Husband, but is restored by the Interposition of the British Ambassador.
Mr. Jolter threatens to leave him because of his misconduct, which he promises to fix; but his resolve is undermined by his strong emotions. He unexpectedly runs into Mrs. Hornbeck, who runs away with him from her husband, but she is brought back thanks to the intervention of the British Ambassador.
Though Mr. Jolter was extremely well pleased at the safety of his pupil, he could not forgive him for the terror and anxiety he had undergone on his account; and roundly told him, that notwithstanding the inclination and attachment he had to his person, he would immediately depart for England, if ever he should hear of his being involved in such another adventure; for it could not be expected that he would sacrifice his own quiet, to an unrequited regard for one who seemed determined to keep him in continual uneasiness and apprehension.
Though Mr. Jolter was very happy that his student was safe, he couldn't forgive him for the fear and stress he had caused. He bluntly told him that even though he cared for him, he would immediately leave for England if he ever heard of him getting into another situation like that. After all, it wasn't reasonable to expect him to sacrifice his own peace of mind for someone who seemed set on keeping him in constant worry and anxiety.
To this declaration Pickle made answer, that Mr. Jolter, by this time, ought to be convinced of the attention he had always paid to his ease and satisfaction; since he well knew that he had ever looked upon him in the light of a friend rather than as a counsellor or tutor; and desired his company in France with a view of promoting his interest, not for any emolument he could expect from his instruction. This being the case, he was at liberty to consult his own inclinations, with regard to going or staying; though he could not help owning himself obliged by the concern he expressed for his safety, and would endeavour, for his own sake, to avoid giving him any cause of disturbance in time to come.
To this statement, Pickle replied that Mr. Jolter should by now realize how much attention he had always given to his comfort and happiness; he knew that he had always seen him more as a friend than as a mentor or teacher. He wanted to be with him in France to help advance his interests, not for any rewards he could gain from his guidance. Since this was the case, he was free to follow his own desires about whether to go or stay; however, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the concern Mr. Jolter showed for his safety and would make an effort, for his own sake, to avoid causing him any trouble in the future.
No man was more capable of moralizing upon Peregrine's misconduct than himself: his reflections were extremely just and sagacious, and attended with no other disadvantage but that of occurring too late. He projected a thousand salutary schemes of deportment, but, like other projectors, he never had interest enough with the ministry of his passions to bring any of them to bear. He had, in the heyday of his gallantry received a letter from his friend Gauntlet with a kind postscript from his charming Emilia; but it arrived at a very unseasonable juncture, when his imagination was engrossed by conquests that more agreeably flattered his ambition; so that he could not find leisure and inclination, from that day, to honour the correspondence which he himself had solicited. His vanity had, by the time, disapproved of the engagement he had contracted in the rawness and inexperience of youth; suggesting, that he was born to such an important figure in life, as ought to raise his ideas above the consideration of any such middling connections, and fix his attention upon objects of the most sublime attraction. These dictates of ridiculous pride had almost effaced the remembrance of his amiable mistress, or at least so far warped his morals and integrity, that he actually began to conceive hopes of her altogether unworthy of his own character and her deserts.
No one was better at reflecting on Peregrine's bad behavior than he was himself. His thoughts were quite reasonable and insightful, but unfortunately, they always came too late. He came up with a thousand good resolutions for his behavior, but like many people with grand plans, he never had enough control over his emotions to make any of them happen. During the height of his charm, he received a letter from his friend Gauntlet, along with a sweet note from his lovely Emilia; however, it arrived at a really bad time, when he was too caught up in conquests that flattered his ego more. From that point on, he couldn't find the time or desire to keep up the correspondence he had actually asked for. By then, his vanity had convinced him that the commitment he made in his youth was beneath him, suggesting that he was meant for a much greater role in life that should lift his thoughts above any ordinary connections and focus on pursuits of the highest value. These foolish ideas of pride had nearly erased the memory of his lovely mistress, or at least twisted his morals and integrity to the point where he began to have hopes for her that were entirely unworthy of both his character and her worth.
Meanwhile, being destitute of a toy for the dalliance of his idle hours, he employed several spies, and almost every day made a tour of the public places in person, with a view of procuring intelligence of Mr. Hornbeck, with whose wife he longed to have another interview. In this course of expectation had he exercised himself a whole fortnight, when, chancing to be at the Hospital of the Invalids with a gentleman lately arrived from England, he no sooner entered the church than he perceived his lady, attended by her spouse, who at sight of our hero changed colour and looked another way, in order to discourage any communication between them. But the young man, who was not so easily repulsed, advanced with great assurance to his fellow-traveller, and taking him by the hand, expressed his satisfaction at this unexpected meeting; kindly upbraiding him for his precipitate retreat from Chantilly. Before Hornbeck could make any reply he went up to his wife, whom he complimented in the same manner; assuring her, with some significant glances, he was extremely mortified that she had put it out of his power to pay his respects to her on his first arrival at Paris; and then, turning to her husband, who thought proper to keep close to him in this conference, begged to know where he could have the honour of waiting upon him; observing at the same time, that he himself lived a l'Academie de Palfrenier.
Meanwhile, lacking a toy to pass his idle hours, he employed several spies and almost every day visited public places in person, searching for any news about Mr. Hornbeck, whose wife he was eager to meet again. After spending two whole weeks in this wait, he happened to be at the Hospital of the Invalids with a gentleman who had just arrived from England. As soon as he entered the church, he spotted the lady, accompanied by her husband, who turned pale at the sight of our hero and looked away to avoid any interaction between them. However, the young man, undeterred, confidently approached his fellow traveler, shook his hand, and expressed his pleasure at this unexpected encounter, reproaching him lightly for his hasty departure from Chantilly. Before Hornbeck could respond, he turned to his wife, who he complimented in the same way; reassuring her, with some significant glances, that he was quite upset she had made it impossible for him to greet her upon his arrival in Paris. Then, turning back to her husband, who found it necessary to stay close during this conversation, he asked where he could have the honor of visiting him, noting that he himself lived at l'Academie de Palfrenier.
Mr. Hornbeck, without making any apology for his elopement on the road, thanked Mr. Pickle for his complaisance in a very cool and disobliging manner; saying that as he intended to shift his lodgings in a day or two, he could not expect the pleasure of seeing him, until he should be settled, when he would call at the academy, and conduct him to his new habitation.
Mr. Hornbeck, without apologizing for his sudden departure, thanked Mr. Pickle for his kindness in a very indifferent and discourteous way. He mentioned that since he planned to change his accommodations in a day or two, he wouldn’t be able to see him until he was settled. Once he was, he would visit the academy and take him to his new place.
Pickle, who was not unacquainted with the sentiments of this jealous gentleman, did not put much confidence in his promise, and therefore made divers efforts to enjoy a little private conversation with his wife; but he was baffled in all his attempts by the indefatigable vigilance of her keeper, and reaped no other immediate pleasure from this accidental meeting, than that of a kind squeeze while he handed her into the coach. However, as he had been witness to some instances of her invention, and was no stranger to the favourable disposition of her heart, he entertained some faint hopes of profiting by her understanding, and was not deceived in his expectation; for the very next forenoon, a Savoyard called at the academy, and put the following billet in his hand:—
Pickle, who was somewhat familiar with the feelings of this jealous man, didn't really trust his promise. So, he made several attempts to have a private conversation with his wife, but all his efforts were thwarted by the tireless watchfulness of her guard. He gained no immediate pleasure from this unexpected meeting, except for a gentle squeeze while helping her into the coach. However, having witnessed some of her cleverness and knowing her kind nature, he held onto some slim hopes of benefiting from her intelligence, and he wasn't let down. The very next morning, a Savoyard showed up at the academy and handed him the following note:—
“Coind Sur,—Heaving the playsure of meating with you at the
osspital of awilheads, I take this lubbertea of latin you
know, that I lotch at the hottail de May cong dangle rouy
Doghouseten, with two postis at the gait, naytheir of um very
hole, ware I shall be at the windore, if in kais you will be
so good as to pass that way at sicks a cloak in the heavening
when Mr. Hornbeck goes to the Calf hay de Contea. Prey for the
loaf of Geesus keep this from the nolegs of my hussban, ells he
will make me leed a hell upon urth.—Being all from, deer Sur,
your most umbell servan wile
“Deborah Hornbeck.”
“Coind Sur,—I’m excited to meet you at the hospital of hardheads. I take this opportunity to tell you that I’m at the Hottail de May, located at the Doghouse Ten, with two posts at the gate, neither of which is very whole. I’ll be at the window, so if you’re kind enough to pass by at six o’clock in the evening when Mr. Hornbeck goes to the Calf Hay de Contea, I’d appreciate it. Please, for the love of Jesus, keep this from my husband, or he’ll make my life a hell on earth.—Being all from, dear Sur, your most humble servant, “Deborah Hornbeck.”
Our young gentleman was ravished at the receipt of this elegant epistle, which was directed, A Monsr. Monsr. Pickhell, a la Gaddamme de Paul Freny, and did not fail to obey the summons at the hour of assignation; when the lady, true to her appointment, beckoned him up-stairs, and he had the good fortune to be admitted unseen.
Our young gentleman was thrilled to receive this elegant letter, which was addressed to Mr. Pickhell at the Gaddamme de Paul Freny, and he didn’t hesitate to respond at the appointed time; when the lady, faithful to her promise, signaled for him to come upstairs, and he was fortunate enough to be let in unnoticed.
After the first transports of their mutual joy at meeting, she told him, that her husband had been very surly and cross ever since the adventure at Chantilly, which he had not yet digested; that he had laid severe injunctions upon her to avoid all commerce with Pickle, and even threatened to shut her up in a convent for life, if ever she should discover the least inclination to renew that acquaintance; that she had been cooped up in her chamber since her arrival at Paris, without being permitted to see the place, or indeed any company, except that of her landlady, whose language she did not understand; so that her spirit being broken, and her health impaired, he was prevailed upon some days ago to indulge her in a few airings, during which she had seen the gardens of the Luxembourg, the Tuileries, and Palais Royal, though at those times when there was no company in the walks; and that it was in one of those excursions she had the happiness of meeting with him. Finally, she gave him to understand, that rather than continue longer in such confinement with the man whom she could not love, she would instantly give him the slip, and put herself under the protection of her lover.
After the initial excitement of their reunion, she told him that her husband had been really moody and unpleasant ever since the incident at Chantilly, which he still couldn’t get over. He had imposed strict rules on her to avoid any contact with Pickle and even threatened to lock her away in a convent for life if she ever showed the slightest interest in rekindling that relationship. She had been stuck in her room since arriving in Paris, not allowed to explore the city or see anyone except her landlady, whose language she didn’t understand. With her spirit crushed and her health suffering, he finally agreed a few days ago to let her have some fresh air, during which she visited the gardens of the Luxembourg, the Tuileries, and the Palais Royal, but only when there were no crowds around. It was during one of those outings that she had the joy of running into him. In the end, she made it clear that rather than remain trapped with a man she didn’t love, she would rather make a break for it and seek refuge with her lover.
Rash and unthinking as this declaration might be, the young gentleman was so much of a gallant, that he would not balk the lady's inclinations; and too infatuated by his passion to foresee the consequences of such a dangerous step: he therefore, without hesitation, embraced the proposal; and the coast being clear, they sallied out into the street, where Peregrine, calling a fiacre, ordered the coachman to drive them to a tavern; but knowing it would not be in his power to conceal her from the search of the lieutenant de police, if she should remain within the walls of Paris, he hired a remise, and carried her that same evening to Villejuif, about four leagues from town, where he stayed with her all night; and having boarded her on a genteel pension, and settled the economy of his future visits, returned next day to his own lodgings.
As rash and thoughtless as this decision might be, the young man was such a gentleman that he wouldn't ignore the lady's wishes; and too caught up in his feelings to think about the risks of such a bold move, he immediately accepted the proposal. With the coast clear, they headed out to the street, where Peregrine called for a cab and told the driver to take them to a tavern. However, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep her hidden from the police if she stayed within Paris, he rented a private carriage and took her that same evening to Villejuif, about four leagues away from the city. He spent the night with her and arranged for her to stay at a nice boarding house, planning for his future visits before returning to his own place the next day.
While he thus enjoyed his success, her husband endured the tortures of the damned. When he returned from the coffee-house, and understood that his wife had eloped, without being perceived by any person in the family, he began to rave and foam with rage and jealousy; and, in the fury of distraction, accused the landlady of being an accomplice in her escape, threatening to complain of her to the commissaire. The woman could not conceive how Mrs. Hornbeck, who she knew was an utter stranger to the French language, and kept no sort of company, could elude the caution of her husband, and find any refuge in a place where she had no acquaintance, and began to suspect the lodger's emotion was no other than an affected passion to conceal his own practices upon his wife, who had perhaps fallen a sacrifice to his jealous disposition. She therefore spared him the trouble of putting his menaces into execution by going to the magistrate, without any further deliberation, and giving an account of what she knew concerning this mysterious affair, with certain insinuations against Hornbeck's character, which she represented as peevish and capricious to the last degree.
While he was enjoying his success, her husband was suffering like someone in hell. When he came back from the coffee shop and realized that his wife had run away without anyone in the family noticing, he started to rage and foam with jealousy. In his furious distraction, he accused the landlady of being in on her escape, threatening to report her to the authorities. The woman couldn't understand how Mrs. Hornbeck, who she knew didn’t speak French and had no social connections, could avoid her husband’s watch and find a place to hide when she had no friends. She began to suspect that the lodger’s anger was just a façade to cover up his own issues with his wife, who had possibly become a victim of his jealousy. Therefore, she took it upon herself to skip the hassle of following through on his threats and went straight to the magistrate, recounting what she knew about this strange situation, including some hints about Hornbeck's character, which she described as extremely irritable and unpredictable.
While she thus anticipated the purpose of the plaintiff, her information was interrupted by the arrival of the party himself, who exhibited his complaint with such evident marks of perturbation, anger, and impatience, that the commissaire could easily perceive that he had no share in the disappearance of his wife, and directed him to the lieutenant de police, whose province it is to take cognizance of such occurrences. This gentleman, who presides over the city of Paris, having heard the particulars of Hornbeck's misfortune, asked if he suspected any individual person as the seducer of his yoke-fellow; and when he mentioned Peregrine as the object of his suspicion, granted a warrant and a detachment of soldiers, to search for and retrieve the fugitive.
While she was anticipating the plaintiff's intentions, her thoughts were interrupted by his arrival, who displayed his complaint with clear signs of agitation, anger, and impatience. The commissaire could easily tell that he had nothing to do with his wife's disappearance and directed him to the lieutenant de police, who is responsible for handling such matters. This gentleman, who oversees the city of Paris, listened to the details of Hornbeck's unfortunate situation and asked if he suspected anyone in particular as the one who had seduced his partner. When Hornbeck mentioned Peregrine as his suspect, the lieutenant issued a warrant and sent a team of soldiers to search for and bring back the missing person.
The husband conducted them immediately to the academy where our hero lodged; and having rummaged the whole place, to the astonishment of Mr. Jolter, without finding either his wife or the supposed ravisher, accompanied them to all the public-houses in the Faubourg, which having examined also without success, he returned to the magistrate in a state of despair, and obtained a promise of his making such an effectual inquiry, that in three days he should have an account of her, provided she was alive, and within the walls of Paris.
The husband quickly took them to the academy where our hero was staying, and after searching the entire place, much to Mr. Jolter’s surprise, he didn’t find either his wife or the supposed kidnapper. He then went with them to all the bars in the Faubourg, which they also checked without any luck. He returned to the magistrate feeling desperate and secured a promise that there would be a thorough investigation and that, within three days, he would have news about her, as long as she was alive and still in Paris.
Our adventurer, who had foreseen all this disturbance, was not at all surprised when his governor told him what had happened, and conjured him to restore the woman to the right owner, with many pathetic remonstrances touching the heinous sin of adultery, the distraction of the unfortunate husband, and the danger of incurring the resentment of an arbitrary government, which, upon application being made would not fail of espousing the cause of the injured. He denied, with great effrontery, that he had the least concern in the matter, pretended to resent the deportment of Hornbeck, whom he threatened to chastise for his scandalous suspicion, and expressed his displeasure at the credulity of Jolter, who seemed to doubt the veracity of his asseveration.
Our adventurer, who had predicted all this chaos, was not at all surprised when his boss told him what had happened and urged him to return the woman to her rightful owner. He made many emotional appeals about the serious sin of adultery, the distress of the unfortunate husband, and the risk of provoking a capricious government, which, if asked, would undoubtedly support the cause of the wronged. He boldly denied having any involvement in the situation, pretended to be offended by Hornbeck's behavior, and threatened to punish him for his outrageous suspicion. He also expressed his annoyance at Jolter, who seemed to doubt the truth of his claims.
Notwithstanding this confident behaviour, Jolter could not help entertaining doubts of his sincerity, and, visiting the disconsolate swain, begged he would, for the honour of his country, as well as for the sake of his own reputation, discontinue his addresses to the lieutenant de police, and apply to the British ambassador, who, by dint of friendly admonitions, would certainly prevail upon Mr. Pickle to do him all the justice in his power, if he was really the author of the injury he had sustained. The governor urged this advice with the appearance of so much sympathy and concern, promising to co-operate within his influence in his behalf, that Hornbeck embraced the proposal, communicated his purpose to the magistrate, who commended the resolution as the most decent and desirable expedient he could use, and then waited upon his excellency, who readily espoused his cause, and sending for the young gentleman that same evening, read him such a lecture in private, as extorted a confession of the whole affair. Not that he assailed him with sour and supercilious maxims, or severe rebuke; because he had penetration enough to discern that Peregrine's disposition was impregnable to all such attacks; but he first of all rallied him on his intriguing genius; then, in a humorous manner, described the distraction of the poor cuckold, who he owned was justly punished for the absurdity of his conduct; and lastly, upon the supposition that it would be no great effort in Pickle to part with such a conquest, especially after it had been for some time possessed, represented the necessity and expediency of restoring her, not only out of regard to his own character and that of his nation, but also with a view to his ease, which would in a little time be very much invaded by such an incumbrance, that in all probability would involve him in a thousand difficulties and disgusts. Besides, he assured him that he was already, by order of the lieutenant de police, surrounded with spies, who would watch all his motions, and immediately discover the retreat in which he had disposed his prize. These arguments, and the frank familiar manner in which they were delivered—but, above all, the last consideration—induced the young gentleman to disclose the whole of his proceedings to the ambassador; and he promised to be governed by his direction, provided the lady should not suffer for the step she had taken, but, be received by her husband with due reverence and respect. These stipulations being agreed to, he undertook to produce her in eight-and-forty hours; and, taking coach, immediately drove to the place of her residence, where he spent a whole day and night in convincing her of the impossibility of their enjoying each other in that manner; then, returning to Paris, he delivered her into the hands of the ambassador, who, having assured her that she might depend upon his friendship and protection, in case she should find herself aggrieved by the jealous temper of Mr. Hornbeck, restored her to her legitimate lord, whom he counselled to exempt her from that restraint which in all probability had been the cause of her elopement, and endeavour to conciliate her affection by tender and respectful usage.
Despite his confident demeanor, Jolter couldn't shake his doubts about his sincerity. He went to visit the heartbroken young man and urged him, for the sake of his country’s honor and his own reputation, to stop appealing to the lieutenant de police and instead reach out to the British ambassador. With some friendly advice, the ambassador would likely convince Mr. Pickle to give him the justice he deserved if he truly was the source of the wrong he had suffered. The governor pressed this advice with genuine sympathy and concern, promising to do everything he could to help, which led Hornbeck to agree. He shared his plan with the magistrate, who praised it as the most respectable and preferable course of action, then met with the ambassador. The ambassador quickly took up his cause, summoned the young gentleman that same evening, and gave him a private lecture that prompted a full confession of the entire situation. He didn’t attack him with harsh or arrogant sayings or reprimands; he understood that Peregrine’s personality was resilient to such tactics. Instead, he first teased him about his scheming nature, then humorously described the turmoil of the poor cuckold, admitting he deserved punishment for his foolish behavior. Finally, assuming it wouldn’t be too hard for Pickle to part with his conquest—especially after having her for a while—he stressed the necessity of returning her, not only for his own reputation and that of his country, but also for his peace of mind, which would soon be disrupted by the weight of such a burden that could land him in countless troubles and annoyances. Furthermore, he informed him that the lieutenant de police had already set up spies around him who would keep track of his every move and quickly uncover where he had hidden his prize. These points, along with the casual way they were presented—and particularly the last one—encouraged the young gentleman to reveal all his actions to the ambassador. He agreed to follow the ambassador's guidance, on the condition that the lady would not be punished for her actions, but rather treated with honor and respect by her husband. Once these conditions were established, the ambassador promised to bring her back within forty-eight hours. He took a coach directly to her residence, where he spent an entire day and night persuading her of the impossibility of their continuing their relationship that way. After that, he returned to Paris and handed her over to the ambassador, who assured her she could rely on his friendship and protection should she face hostility from Mr. Hornbeck. He then restored her to her rightful husband, advising him to free her from the constraints that likely caused her to elope and to work on winning her affection through kind and respectful treatment.
The husband behaved with great humility and compliance, protesting that his chief study should be to contrive parties for her pleasure and satisfaction. But no sooner did he regain possession of his stray sheep, than he locked her up more closely than ever; and after having revolved various schemes for her reformation, determined to board her in a convent, under the inspection of a prudent abbess, who should superintend her morals, and recall her to the paths of virtue which she had forsaken. With this view, he consulted an English priest of his acquaintance, who advised him to settle her in a monastery at Lisle, that she might be as far as possible from the machinations of her lover, and gave him a letter of recommendation to the superior of a certain convent in that place, for which Mr. Hornbeck set out in a few days with his troublesome charge.
The husband acted with a lot of humility and willingness, insisting that his main focus should be to create situations for her enjoyment and happiness. But as soon as he got his wandering wife back, he kept her locked up tighter than before; and after considering various plans for her improvement, he decided to send her to a convent, under the guidance of a wise abbess who would monitor her behavior and steer her back to the moral path she had strayed from. To this end, he talked to an English priest he knew, who suggested he place her in a monastery in Lisle, so she would be as far away as possible from her lover's schemes, and he gave him a recommendation letter for the head of a specific convent there, for which Mr. Hornbeck left a few days later with his difficult charge.
CHAPTER XLII.
Peregrine resolves to return to England—Is diverted with the odd Characters of two of his Countrymen, with whom he contracts an acquaintance in the Apartments of the Palais Royal.
Peregrine decides to go back to England but gets sidetracked by the quirky personalities of two fellow countrymen, with whom he forms a friendship in the rooms of the Palais Royal.
In the mean time our hero received a letter from his aunt, importing that the commodore was in a very declining way, and longed much to see him at the garrison; and at the same time he heard from his sister, who gave him to understand that the young gentleman, who had for some time made his addresses to her, was become very pressing in his solicitations; so that she wanted to know in what manner she should answer his repeated entreaties. Those two considerations determined the young gentleman to retain to his native country; a resolution that was far from being disagreeable to Jolter, who knew that the incumbent on a living which was in the gift of Trunnion was extremely old, and that it would be his interest to be upon the spot at the said incumbent's decease.
In the meantime, our hero got a letter from his aunt, saying that the commodore was not doing well and really wanted to see him at the garrison; at the same time, he also heard from his sister, who told him that the young man who had been pursuing her was becoming very insistent in his requests, so she wanted to know how she should respond to his repeated pleas. These two matters prompted the young man to return to his home country, a decision that was quite agreeable to Jolter, who knew that the person currently in charge of a position that Trunnion had the authority to appoint was very old, and it would benefit him to be there when that person passed away.
Peregrine, who had resided about fifteen months in France, thought he was now sufficiently qualified for eclipsing most of his contemporaries in England, and therefore prepared for his departure with infinite alacrity; being moreover inflamed with the most ardent desire of revisiting his friends, and renewing his connections, particularly with Emilia, whose heart he by this time, thought he was able to reduce on his own terms.
Peregrine, who had spent about fifteen months in France, believed he was now skilled enough to outshine most of his peers in England. He was eager to leave and was excited by the strong desire to see his friends again and reconnect with them, especially Emilia, whose heart he now thought he could win over on his own terms.
As he proposed to make the tour of Flanders and Holland in his return to England, he resolved to stay at Paris a week or two after his affairs were settled, in hope of finding some companion disposed for the same journey; and, in order to refresh his memory, made a second circuit round all the places in that capital, where any curious production of art is to be seen. In the course of this second examination he chanced to enter the Palais Royal, just as two gentlemen alighted from a fiacre at the gate; and all three being admitted at the same time, he soon perceived that the strangers were of his own country. One of them was a young man, in whose air and countenance appeared all the uncouth gravity and supercilious self-conceit of a physician piping-hot from his studies; while the other, to whom his companion spoke by the appellation of Mr. Pallet, displayed at first sight a strange composition of levity and assurance. Indeed, their characters, dress, and address, were strongly contrasted: the doctor wore a suit of black, and a huge tie-wig, neither suitable to his own age, nor the fashion of the country where he then lived; whereas the other, though seemingly turned of fifty, strutted in a gay summer dress of the Parisian cut, with a bag to his own grey hair, and a red feather in his hat, which he carried under his arm. As these figures seemed to promise something entertaining, Pickle entered into conversation with them immediately, and soon discovered that the old gentleman was a painter from London, who had stolen a fortnight from his occupation, in order to visit the remarkable paintings of France and Flanders; and that the doctor had taken the opportunity of accompanying him in his tour. Being extremely talkative, he not only communicated these particulars to our hero in a very few minutes after their meeting, but also took occasion to whisper in his ear that his fellow-traveller was a man of vast learning and, beyond all doubt, the greatest poet of the age. As for himself, he was under no necessity of making his own eulogium; for he soon gave such specimens of his taste and talents as left Pickle no room to doubt of his capacity.
As he planned to tour Flanders and Holland on his way back to England, he decided to stay in Paris for a week or two after settling his affairs, hoping to find a travel companion for the journey. To refresh his memory, he made a second round of all the art highlights in the city. During this second visit, he happened to enter the Palais Royal just as two gentlemen got out of a cab at the gate. Since all three were admitted at the same time, he quickly noticed that the strangers were from his own country. One of them was a young man who had all the awkward seriousness and arrogant self-importance of a doctor fresh out of school; the other, whom his companion called Mr. Pallet, seemed to be a mix of lightheartedness and confidence. Their appearances, clothing, and manner of speaking were strikingly different: the doctor wore a black suit and a large tie-wig, which didn’t suit his age or the local fashion; in contrast, the other man, who appeared to be over fifty, strutted in a bright summer outfit typical of Paris, with a bag for his gray hair and a red feather in his hat, which he carried under his arm. Since these characters seemed like they would provide some entertainment, Pickle struck up a conversation with them immediately and quickly learned that the older gentleman was a painter from London who had taken a two-week break from his work to see the famous art of France and Flanders, and that the doctor had joined him on his trip. The doctor was very talkative; he shared these details with Pickle just a few minutes after they met and also leaned in to whisper that his travel companion was a man of immense knowledge and, without a doubt, the greatest poet of the time. As for himself, he didn’t need to boast; he soon provided enough examples of his taste and talent that left Pickle in no doubt about his abilities.
While they stood considering the pictures in one of the first apartments, which are by no means the most masterly compositions, the Swiss, who set up for a connoisseur, looking at a certain piece, pronounced the word with a note of admiration; upon which Mr. Pallet, who was not at all a critic in the French language, replied, with great vivacity, “Manufac, you mean, and a very indifferent piece of manufacture it is: pray, gentlemen, take notice; there is no keeping in those heads upon the background, and no relief in the principal figure: then you'll observe the shadings are harsh to the last degree; and, come a little closer this way—don't you perceive that the foreshortening of that arm is monstrous?—egad, sir! There is an absolute fracture in the limb. Doctor, you understand anatomy: don't you think that muscle evidently misplaced? Hark ye, Mr. what-d'ye-call-um (turning to the attendant), what is the name of the dauber who painted that miserable performance?” The Swiss, imagining that he was all this time expressing his satisfaction, sanctioned his supposed commendation by exclaiming sans prix. “Right,” cried Pallet: “I could not recollect his name, though his manner is quite familiar to me. We have a few pieces in England, done by that same Sangpree; but there they are in no estimation; we have more taste among us than to relish the productions of such a miserable gout. A'n't he an ignorant coxcomb, doctor?” The physician, ashamed of his companion's blunder, thought it was necessary, for the honour of his wan character, to take notice of it before the stranger, and therefore answered his question by repeating this line from Horace:—
While they stood looking at the pictures in one of the first apartments, which aren’t the most impressive works, the Swiss guy pretending to be a connoisseur, admiring a specific piece, exclaimed with admiration. Mr. Pallet, who wasn't much of a critic in French, replied energetically, “You mean 'manufacture,' and it's a pretty mediocre piece of workmanship. Gentlemen, take note; those heads don’t match the background at all, and there’s no depth in the main figure. And if you come a little closer—don’t you see that the foreshortening of that arm is ridiculous? Good heavens! There’s a clear break in that limb. Doctor, you know about anatomy: doesn’t that muscle look completely out of place? Hey there, Mr. What’s-his-name (turning to the attendant), what’s the name of the artist who created that awful work?” The Swiss, thinking he’d been praising it all along, confirmed his supposed compliment by exclaiming “priceless.” “Exactly,” Pallet shouted: “I couldn’t remember his name, though his style is quite familiar to me. We have a few pieces back in England by that same Sangpree, but they’re not valued at all; we have better taste than to appreciate such terrible work. Isn’t he a clueless fool, doctor?” The physician, embarrassed by his friend’s mistake, felt it was essential for the sake of his own reputation to address it in front of the stranger and responded to his question by quoting this line from Horace:—
Mutato nomine, de te fabula narratur.
Mutato nomine, this story is about you.
The painter, who was rather more ignorant of Latin than of French, taking it for granted that this quotation of his friend conveyed an assent to his opinion, “Very true,” said he, “Potato domine date, this piece is not worth a single potato.” Peregrine was astonished at this surprising perversion of the words and meaning of a Latin line, which, at first, he could not help thinking was a premeditated joke; but, upon second thoughts, he saw no reason to doubt that it was the extemporaneous effect of sheer pertness and ignorance, at which he broke out into an immoderate fit of laughter. Pallet, believing that the gentleman's mirth was occasioned by his arch animadversion upon the work of Sangpree, underwent the same emotion in a much louder strain, and endeavoured to heighten the jest by more observations of the same nature; while the doctor, confounded at his impudence and want of knowledge, reprimanded him in these words of Homer:—
The painter, who knew even less Latin than French, assumed that his friend's quote showed agreement with his opinion. “Very true,” he said, “Potato domine date, this piece isn't worth a single potato.” Peregrine was shocked by this bizarre twist of the words and meaning of a Latin phrase, initially thinking it was a planned joke; but upon reflection, he realized it was just pure arrogance and ignorance, which made him burst into uncontrollable laughter. Pallet, thinking the man's laughter was a response to his clever criticism of Sangpree's work, joined in with an even louder laugh and tried to make it funnier with more comments like that. Meanwhile, the doctor, taken aback by his boldness and lack of knowledge, scolded him using these words from Homer:—
Siga, me tis allos Achaion touton akouse muthon.
Siga, me tis allos Achaion touton akouse muthon.
This rebuke, the reader will easily perceive, was not calculated for the meridian of his friend's intellects, but uttered with a view of raising his own character in the opinion of Mr. Pickle, who retorted this parade of learning in three verses from the same author, being part of the speech of Polydamas to Hector, importing that it is impossible for one man to excel in everything.
This criticism, as you can easily see, wasn’t meant for his friend’s level of understanding but was said in order to boost his own reputation in Mr. Pickle’s eyes, who responded to this show of knowledge with three lines from the same author, which are part of Polydamas’s speech to Hector, suggesting that it’s impossible for one person to be exceptional at everything.
The self-sufficient physician, who did not expect such a repartee from a youth of Peregrine's appearance, looked upon his reply as a fair challenge, and instantly rehearsed forty or fifty lines of the Iliad in a breath. Observing that the stranger made no effort to match this effusion, he interpreted his silence into submission; then, in order to ascertain his victory, insulted him with divers fragments of authors, whom his supposed competitor did not even know by name; while Mr. Pallet stared with admiration at the profound scholarship of his companion. Our young gentleman, far from repining at this superiority laughed within himself at the ridiculous ambition of the pedantic doctor. He rated him in his own mind as a mere index-hunter, who held the eel of science by the tail, and foresaw an infinite fund of diversion in his solemnity and pride, if properly extracted by means of his fellow-traveller's vanity and assurance. Prompted by these considerations, he resolved to cultivate their acquaintance, and, if possible, amuse himself at their expense in his journey through Flanders, understanding that they were determined upon the same route. In this view he treated them with extraordinary attention, and seemed to pay particular deference to the remarks of the painter, who, with great intrepidity, pronounced judgment upon every picture in the palace, or, in other words, exposed his own nakedness in every sentence that proceeded from his mouth.
The self-sufficient doctor, who didn’t expect such a comeback from a young man like Peregrine, saw his response as a real challenge and quickly recited forty or fifty lines from the Iliad in one breath. Noticing that the stranger didn’t try to keep up, he interpreted his silence as defeat; then, to confirm his victory, he insulted him with random quotes from authors that his supposed rival didn’t even recognize by name, while Mr. Pallet watched in awe at the impressive knowledge of his companion. Our young gentleman, instead of feeling frustrated by this superiority, silently laughed at the ridiculous ambition of the showy doctor. He considered him just a mere index-hunter who had a superficial understanding of science and saw endless amusement in his seriousness and arrogance, if he could play on his fellow traveler’s vanity and self-importance. Encouraged by these thoughts, he decided to get to know them better and, if possible, entertain himself at their expense during his journey through Flanders, knowing they were headed the same way. With this in mind, he paid them special attention and seemed to show particular respect for the painter’s comments, who boldly offered his opinions on every painting in the palace, or in other words, revealed his own lack of substance with every word he spoke.
When they came to consider the Murder of the Innocents by Le Brun, the Swiss observed, that it was un beau morceau, and Mr. Pallet replied,—“Yes, yes, one may see with half an eye, that it can be the production of no other; for Bomorso's style both in colouring and drapery, is altogether peculiar: then his design is tame, and his expression antic and unnatural. Doctor, you have seen my judgment of Solomon; I think I may, without presumption—but, I don't choose to make comparisons; I leave that odious task to other people, and let my works speak for themselves. France, to be sure, is rich in the arts; but what is the reason? The king encourages men of genius with honour and rewards; whereas, in England, we are obliged to stand on our own feet, and combat the envy and malice of our brethren. Egad! I have a good mind to come and settle here in Paris. I should like to have an apartment in the Louvre, with a snug pension of so many thousand livres.”
When they looked at the Murder of the Innocents by Le Brun, the Swiss remarked that it was a beautiful piece, and Mr. Pallet replied, “Yes, yes, it’s clear to see that it could only be from him; Bomorso's style in both coloring and drapery is completely unique. His design is dull, and his expression is weird and unnatural. Doctor, you’ve seen my Judgment of Solomon; I think I can say, without being arrogant—but I don’t want to make comparisons; I’ll leave that unpleasant job to others and let my work speak for itself. France is definitely rich in the arts; but why is that? The king supports talented people with honors and rewards, while in England, we have to rely on ourselves and deal with the jealousy and spite of our peers. Honestly, I’m tempted to move to Paris. I’d love to have a place in the Louvre, with a nice pension of a few thousand livres.”
In this manner did Pallet proceed with an eternal rotation of tongue, floundering from one mistake to another, until it was the turn of Poussin's Seven Sacraments to be examined. Here again, the Swiss, out of the abundance of his zeal, expressed his admiration, by saying these pieces were impayable; when the painter, turning to him, with an air of exultation, “Pardon me, friend, there you happen to be mistaken: these are none of Impayable's; but done by Nicholas Pouseen. I have seen prints of them in England, so that none of your tricks upon travellers, Mr. Swiss or Swash, or what's your name.” He was much elated by this imaginary triumph of his understanding, which animated him to persevere in his curious observations upon all the other pieces of that celebrated collection; but perceiving that the doctor manifested no signs of pleasure and satisfaction, but rather beheld them with a silent air of disdain, he could not digest his indifference, and asked, with a waggish sneer, if ever he had seen such a number of masterpieces before? The physician, eyeing him with a look of compassion, mingled with contempt, observed that there was nothing there which deserved the attention of any person acquainted with the ideas of the ancients; and that the author of the finest piece now in being was unworthy to clean the brushes of one of those great masters who are celebrated by the Greek and Roman writers.
In this way, Pallet continued to babble on, stumbling from one mistake to another, until it was time to look at Poussin's Seven Sacraments. Again, the Swiss, out of his eagerness, expressed his admiration by saying these works were priceless; when the painter turned to him with a triumphant air, “Excuse me, my friend, you’re mistaken: these aren’t priceless; they were done by Nicholas Poussin. I've seen prints of them in England, so no tricks on travelers, Mr. Swiss or Swash, or whatever your name is.” He felt quite pleased with this imaginary victory of his understanding, which encouraged him to keep making curious observations about all the other pieces in that famous collection. However, noticing that the doctor showed no signs of enjoyment and seemed to regard them with silent disdain, he couldn’t handle the indifference and asked with a teasing smile if he had ever seen so many masterpieces before. The physician looked at him with a mix of pity and contempt and remarked that nothing there was worthy of anyone familiar with ancient ideas; and that the creator of the finest piece currently around was unworthy even to clean the brushes of those great masters praised by Greek and Roman writers.
“O lad! O lad!” exclaimed the painter, with a loud laugh, “you have fairly brought yourself into a dilemma at last, dear doctor; for it is well known that your ancient Greek and Roman artists knew nothing at all of the matter, in comparison with our modern masters; for this good reason, because they had but three or four colours, and knew not how to paint with oil: besides, which of all your old fusty Grecians would you put upon a footing with the divine Raphael, the most excellent Michael Angelo, Bona Roti, the graceful Guido, the bewitching Titian, and above all others, the sublime Rubens, the—.” He would have proceeded with a long catalogue of names which he had got by heart for the purpose, without retaining the least idea of their several qualifications, had not he been interrupted by his friend, whose indignation being kindled by the irreverence with which he mentioned the Greeks, he called him blasphemer, Goth, Boeotian, and, in his turn, asked with great vehemence, which of those puny moderns could match with Panaenus of Athens, and his brother Phidias; Polycletus of Sicyon; Polygnotus, the Thracian; Parrhasius of Ephesus, surnamed Abrodiaitos, or the Beau; and Apelles, the prince of painters? He challenged him to show any portrait of these days that could vie with the Helen of Zeuxis, the Heraclean; or any composition equal to the Sacrifice of Iphigenia, by Timanthes, the Sicyonian; not to mention the Twelve Gods of Asclepiodorus, the Athenian, for which Mnason, tyrant of Elatea, gave him about three hundred pounds apiece; or Homer's Hell, by Nicias, who refused sixty talents, amounting to upwards of eleven thousand pounds, and generously made a present of it to his own country. He desired him to produce a collection equal to that in the temple of Delphos, mentioned in the “Ion” of Euripides; where Hercules and his companion Iolaus, are represented in the act of killing the Lernaean hydra with golden sickles, kruseais harpais, where Bellerophon appears on his winged steed, vanquishing the fire-breathing chimera, tan puripneousan; and the war of the giants is described. Here Jupiter stands wielding the red-hot thunderbolts, keraunon amphipuron; there Pallas, dreadful to the view, Gorgopon, brandishes her spear against the huge Euceladus; and Bacchus, with slender ivy rods, defeats and slays the ges teknon, or the mighty son of earth.
“Oh boy! Oh boy!” laughed the painter loudly, “you’ve really gotten yourself into a tough spot now, dear doctor; it’s well known that the ancient Greek and Roman artists knew far less about this than our modern masters do; for this simple reason, they had only three or four colors and didn’t know how to paint with oil. Besides, which of those old-fashioned Greeks would you compare to the divine Raphael, the incredible Michelangelo, the talented Bonaroti, the graceful Guido, the captivating Titian, and above all, the sublime Rubens, the—.” He would have continued with a long list of names he had memorized for this purpose, without really knowing anything about their respective talents, if he hadn’t been interrupted by his friend. His friend’s anger flared up at the disrespect with which he mentioned the Greeks, calling him a blasphemer, a Goth, a Boeotian, and passionately asking which of those weak moderns could measure up to Panaenus of Athens and his brother Phidias; Polycletus from Sicyon; Polygnotus, the Thracian; Parrhasius of Ephesus, called Abrodiaitos, or the Beau; and Apelles, the master of painters? He dared him to show any portrait from today that could compete with Zeuxis’s Helen, the Heraclean; or any work equal to the Sacrifice of Iphigenia by Timanthes from Sicyon; not to mention the Twelve Gods of Asclepiodorus from Athens, for which Mnason, the tyrant of Elatea, paid him about three hundred pounds each; or Homer’s Hell by Nicias, who turned down sixty talents, over eleven thousand pounds, and generously gifted it to his homeland. He challenged him to produce a collection that could match what was in the temple of Delphos, mentioned in the “Ion” by Euripides, where Hercules and his companion Iolaus are depicted killing the Lernaean hydra with golden sickles; where Bellerophon appears on his winged horse, defeating the fire-breathing chimera; and the giants’ war is illustrated, with Jupiter wielding red-hot thunderbolts; there Pallas, terrifying to behold, wields her spear against the massive Euceladus; and Bacchus, with slender ivy rods, defeats and kills the mighty son of earth.
The painter was astonished and confounded at this rhapsody of names and instances, which was uttered with surprising eagerness and rapidity, suspecting at first that the whole was the creation of his own brain; but when Pickle, with a view of flattering the doctor's self-conceit, espoused his side of the question, and confirmed the truth of everything he advanced, Mr. Pallet changed his opinion, and in emphatic silence adored the immensity of his friend's understanding. In short, Peregrine easily perceived that they were false enthusiasts, without the smallest pretensions to taste and sensibility; and pretended to be in raptures with they knew not what; the one thinking it was incumbent upon him to express transports on seeing the works of those who had been most eminent in their profession, whether they did or did not really raise his admiration; and the other as a scholar deeming it his duty to magnify the ancients above all competition, with an affected fervour, which the knowledge of their excellencies never inspired. Indeed, our young gentleman so successfully accommodated himself to the disposition of each, that long before their review was finished, he was become a particular favourite with both.
The painter was amazed and confused by this outpouring of names and examples, which was delivered with surprising enthusiasm and speed, initially suspecting that it was all a product of his imagination. However, when Pickle, aiming to flatter the doctor's ego, took his side and confirmed everything he said, Mr. Pallet changed his mind and silently admired his friend's vast knowledge. In short, Peregrine easily realized that they were fake enthusiasts, lacking any genuine taste or sensibility, pretending to be thrilled by things they didn’t truly appreciate; one felt it was his duty to express excitement over the works of those who were most renowned in their field, whether they genuinely impressed him or not, while the other, as a scholar, felt obligated to elevate the ancients above all others with an exaggerated eagerness that their true greatness never inspired. Indeed, our young gentleman so expertly adapted to the mood of each that long before their review ended, he became a favorite with both.
From the Palais Royal he accompanied them to the cloisters of the Carthusian's, where they considered the History of St. Bruno, by Le Sueur, whose name being utterly unknown to the painter, he gave judgment against the whole composition, as pitiful and paltry; though, in the opinion of all good judges, it is a most masterly performance.
From the Palais Royal, he took them to the cloisters of the Carthusians, where they discussed the History of St. Bruno by Le Sueur. Since the painter had no idea who Le Sueur was, he dismissed the entire piece as weak and unimpressive, even though all the experts agreed it was a truly masterful work.
Having satisfied their curiosity in this place, Peregrine asked them to favour him with their company at dinner; but whether out of caution against the insinuations of one whose character they did not know, or by reason of a prior engagement, they declined his invitation on pretence of having an appointment at a certain ordinary, though they expressed a desire of being further acquainted with him; and Mr. Pallet took the freedom of asking his name, which he not only declared, but promised, as they were strangers in Paris, to wait upon them next day in the forenoon, in order to conduct them to the Hotel de Toulouse, and the houses of several other noblemen, remarkable for painting or curious furniture. They thankfully embraced his proposal, and that same day made inquiry among the English gentlemen about the character of our hero, which they found so much to their satisfaction, that, upon their second meeting, they courted his good graces without reserve; and as they had heard of his intended departure, begged earnestly to have the honour of accompanying him through the Low Countries. He assured them that nothing could be more agreeable to him than the prospect of having such fellow-travellers; and they immediately appointed a day for setting out on that tour.
After satisfying their curiosity in this place, Peregrine asked them to join him for dinner. However, whether out of caution about someone whose character they didn't know or due to a prior commitment, they politely declined his invitation, claiming they had an appointment at a certain establishment, although they expressed a desire to get to know him better. Mr. Pallet took the liberty of asking his name, which Peregrine provided, and he promised that, since they were strangers in Paris, he would visit them the next morning to guide them to the Hotel de Toulouse and several other notable places known for their paintings or unique furniture. They happily accepted his offer, and that same day, they inquired among the English gentlemen about Peregrine's reputation, which they found so satisfactory that, during their second meeting, they sought his favor without hesitation. Having heard of his impending departure, they earnestly requested the honor of accompanying him through the Low Countries. He assured them that having such travel companions would be incredibly enjoyable, and they immediately set a date to start their journey.
CHAPTER XLIII.
He introduces his new Friends to Mr. Jolter, with whom the Doctor enters into a Dispute upon Government, which had well nigh terminated in open War.
He introduces his new friends to Mr. Jolter, and the Doctor gets into a disagreement with him about government, which almost escalated into open conflict.
Meanwhile, he not only made them acquainted with everything worth seeing in town but attended them in their excursions to all the king's houses within a day's journey of Paris; and in the course of these parties, treated them with an elegant dinner at his own apartments, where a dispute arose between the doctor and Mr. Jolter, which had well nigh terminated in an irreconcilable animosity. These gentlemen, with an equal share of pride, pedantry, and saturnine disposition, were, by the accidents of education and company, diametrically opposite in political maxims; the one, as we have already observed, being a bigoted high-churchman, and the other a rank republican. It was an article of the governor's creed, that the people could not be happy, nor the earth yield its fruits in abundance, under a restricted clergy and limited government; whereas, in the doctor's opinion, it was an eternal truth, that no constitution was so perfect as the democracy, and that no country could flourish but under the administration of the mob.
Meanwhile, he not only showed them everything worth seeing in town but also joined them on their trips to all the king's residences within a day's journey from Paris. During these outings, he treated them to a fancy dinner at his apartment, where a heated argument broke out between the doctor and Mr. Jolter, nearly leading to a lasting rivalry. These two gentlemen, equally proud, pedantic, and gloomy, were completely opposite in their political beliefs due to their differing backgrounds and social circles. As we’ve noted, one was a staunch high-church man, while the other was a hardcore republican. The governor believed that people couldn’t be happy, and the land couldn't produce abundantly, under a restricted clergy and limited government. In contrast, the doctor held that democracy was the only perfect system and that no country could thrive without being ruled by the masses.
These considerations being premised, no wonder that they happened to disagree in the freedom of an unreserved conversation, especially as their entertainer took all opportunities of encouraging and inflaming the contention. The first source of their difference was an unlucky remark of the painter, who observed that the partridge, of which he was then eating, had the finest relish of any he had ever tasted. His friend owned that the birds were the best of the kind he had seen in France; but affirmed that they were neither so plump nor delicious as those that were caught in England. The governor, considering this observation as the effect of prejudice and inexperience, said, with a sarcastic smile, “I believe, sir, you are very well disposed to find everything here inferior to the productions of your own country.”—“True, sir,” answered the physician, with a certain solemnity of aspect, “and not without good reason, I hope.”—“And pray,” resumed the tutor, “why may not the partridges of France be as good as those of England?”—“For a very plain reason,” replied the other; “because they are not so well fed. The iron hand of oppression is extended to all animals within the French dominions, even to the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air; kunessin oionoisi te pasi.”—“Egad!” cried the painter, “that is a truth not to be controverted: for my own part, I am none of your tit-bits, one would think; but yet there is a freshness in the English complexion, a ginseekye, I think you call it, so inviting to a hungry Frenchman, that I have caught several in the very act of viewing me with an eye of extreme appetite, as I passed; and as for their curs, or rather their wolves, whenever I set eyes on one of 'em, Ah! your humble servant, Mr. son of a b—, I am upon my guard in an instant. The doctor can testify that their very horses, or more properly their live carrion, that drew our chaise, used to reach back their long necks and smell at us, as a couple of delicious morsels.”
These thoughts in mind, it's no surprise they ended up disagreeing during their open conversation, especially since their host seized every chance to encourage and fuel the debate. The first spark of disagreement came from an unfortunate comment by the painter, who noted that the partridge he was then eating had the best flavor of any he had ever had. His friend agreed that the birds were indeed the best he had seen in France, but insisted that they weren’t as plump or tasty as those caught in England. The governor, viewing this comment as a sign of bias and lack of experience, said with a sarcastic smile, “I believe, sir, you are quite inclined to see everything here as inferior to what your own country offers.” —“That’s true, sir,” replied the physician, with a certain seriousness, “and for good reason, I hope.” —“And may I ask,” continued the tutor, “why can’t the partridges of France be just as good as those from England?” —“For a very simple reason,” the physician replied; “because they aren’t as well fed. The heavy hand of oppression affects all animals within the French territories, including the beasts of the field and the birds in the air; kunessin oionoisi te pasi.” —“Wow!” exclaimed the painter, “that’s a truth that can’t be argued against: for my part, I don’t consider myself a delicacy; but still, there’s a freshness in the English complexion, a ginseekye, as you might say, so tempting to a hungry Frenchman, that I’ve caught several staring at me with extreme hunger as I walked by; and as for their dogs, or rather their wolves, whenever I see one, Ah! your humble servant, Mr. son of a b—, I’m on guard in an instant. The doctor can confirm that their very horses, or more accurately, their live carrion that pulled our carriage, used to stretch their long necks and sniff at us like we were a couple of delicious treats.”
This sally of Mr. Pallet, which was received with a general laugh of approbation, would in all probability, have stifled the dispute in embryo, had not Mr. Jolter, with a self-applauding simper, ironically complimented the strangers on their talking like true Englishmen. The doctor, affronted at the insinuation, told him with some warmth that he was mistaken in his conjecture, his affections and ideas being confined to no particular country; for he considered himself as a citizen of the world. He owned himself more attached to England than to any other kingdom, but this preference was the effect of reflection, and not of prejudice; the British constitution approached nearer than any other to that perfection of government, the democracy of Athens, he hoped one day to see revived; he mentioned the death of Charles the First, and the expulsion of his son, with raptures of applause; inveighed with great acrimony against the kingly name; and, in order to strengthen his opinion, repeated forty or fifty lines from one of the Philippics of Demosthenes.
This comment from Mr. Pallet, which sparked a collective laugh of approval, would likely have ended the argument before it really started, if Mr. Jolter hadn’t smugly praised the strangers for speaking like true Englishmen. The doctor, insulted by this suggestion, told him with a bit of heat that he was wrong in his assumption; his feelings and ideas weren’t limited to any one country. He saw himself as a citizen of the world. He admitted he felt more connected to England than any other nation, but this preference was based on thought, not bias; he believed the British constitution came closer than any other to that ideal government, the democracy of Athens, which he hoped to see revived one day. He enthusiastically mentioned the execution of Charles the First and the exile of his son, passionately criticizing the royal title, and to back up his point, he recited forty or fifty lines from one of Demosthenes' Philippics.
Jolter, hearing him speak so disrespectfully of the higher powers, glowed with indignation: he said his doctrines were detestable, and destructive of all right, order, and society; that monarchy was of divine institution, therefore indefeasible by any human power; and of consequence those events in the English history, which he had so liberally commended, were no other than flagrant instances of sacrilege, perfidy, and sedition; that the democracy of Athens was a most absurd constitution, productive of anarchy and mischief, which must always happen when the government of a nation depends upon the caprice of the ignorant, hair-brained vulgar; that it was in the power of the most profligate member of the commonwealth, provided he was endowed with eloquence, to ruin the most deserving, by a desperate exertion of his talents upon the populace, who had been often persuaded to act in the most ungrateful and imprudent manner against the greatest patriots that their country had produced; and, finally, he averred, that the liberal arts and sciences had never flourished so much in a republic as under the encouragement and protection of absolute power: witness the Augustan age, and the reign of Louis the Fourteenth: nor was it to be supposed that genius and merit could ever be so amply recompensed by the individuals or distracted councils of a commonwealth, as by the generosity and magnificence of one who had the whole treasury at his own command.
Jolter, hearing him speak so disrespectfully about those in power, was filled with anger. He said his beliefs were horrible and destructive to all sense of right, order, and society. He argued that monarchy was divinely ordained and therefore cannot be overthrown by any human authority. Consequently, those incidents in English history he had praised were simply blatant examples of sacrilege, betrayal, and rebellion. He claimed that Athenian democracy was a completely absurd system, leading to chaos and harm, which would always happen when a nation’s government relied on the whims of uneducated, reckless common people. He added that even the most corrupt person in society, if they had the gift of gab, could ruin the most deserving individuals by manipulating the public, who had often been swayed to act ingratitude and foolishness against the greatest patriots their country had ever produced. Lastly, he stated that the arts and sciences had never thrived as much in a republic as they had under the support and protection of absolute power: just look at the Augustan age and the reign of Louis the Fourteenth. It shouldn't be assumed that talent and merit could ever be justly rewarded by the individuals or chaotic councils of a republic as well as by the generosity and splendor of one person controlling the entire treasury.
Peregrine, who was pleased to find the contest grow warm, observed that there seemed to be a good deal of truth in what Mr. Jolter advanced; and the painter whose opinion began to waver, looked with a face of expectation at his friend, who, modelling his features into an expression of exulting disdain, asked of his antagonist, if he did not think that very power of rewarding merit enabled an absolute prince to indulge himself in the most arbitrary license over the lives and fortunes of his people? Before the governor had time to answer this question, Pallet broke forth into an exclamation of “By the Lord! that is certainly fact, egad! that was a home-thrust, doctor.” When Mr. Jolter, chastising this shallow intruder with a contemptuous look, affirmed that, though supreme power furnished a good prince with the means of exerting his virtues, it would not support a tyrant in the exercise of cruelty and oppression; because in all nations the genius of the people must be consulted by their governors, and the burthen proportioned to the shoulders on which it is laid. “Else, what follows?” said the physician. “The consequence is plain,” replied the governor, “insurrection, revolt, and his own destruction; for it is not to be supposed that the subjects of any nation would be so abject and pusillanimous as to neglect the means which heaven hath put in their power for their own preservation.”—“Gadzooks, you're in the right, sir!” cried Pallet; “that, I grant you, must be confessed: doctor, I'm afraid we have got into the wrong box.” This son of Paean, however, far from being of his friend's opinion, observed, with an air of triumph, that he would not only demonstrate the sophistry of the gentleman's last allegation by argument and facts, but even confute him with his own words. Jolter's eyes kindling at this presumptuous declaration, he told his antagonist, while his lip quivered with resentment, that if his arguments were no better than his breeding, he was sure he would make very few converts to his opinion; and the doctor, with all the insolence of triumph, advised him to beware of disputes for the future, until he should have made himself more master of his subject.
Peregrine, happy to see the debate heating up, noticed that there seemed to be some truth in what Mr. Jolter was saying. The painter, whose opinion was starting to waver, looked at his friend with an expectant face. The friend, pulling his features into an expression of triumphant disdain, asked his opponent if he didn’t believe that the very power to reward merit allowed an absolute ruler to indulge in arbitrary control over the lives and fortunes of his people. Before the governor had a chance to respond, Pallet exclaimed, “By the Lord! That’s definitely true, egad! That was a real blow, doctor.” When Mr. Jolter shot a contemptuous look at this shallow interloper, he insisted that while supreme power gives a good prince the means to exercise his virtues, it wouldn’t support a tyrant in cruelty and oppression. He explained that in every nation, the people’s spirit must be considered by their rulers, and the burden should match the shoulders it’s placed upon. “Otherwise, what’s the result?” asked the physician. “The answer is clear,” the governor replied, “insurrection, revolt, and his own downfall; for it’s not likely that the subjects of any nation would be so submissive and cowardly as to ignore the means heaven has given them for their own preservation.” “Gadzooks, you’re right, sir!” Pallet shouted. “I can concede that: doctor, I fear we’ve landed in the wrong discussion.” However, this son of Paean, far from agreeing with his friend, confidently stated that he would not only show the fallacy in the gentleman's last claim through argument and facts but would even refute him with his own words. Jolter’s eyes lit up at this bold claim, and he told his opponent, his lips quivering with anger, that if his arguments were as poor as his manners, he was sure he wouldn’t win many people to his side. The doctor, with all the arrogance of victory, advised him to avoid disputes in the future until he had a better grasp of his subject.
Peregrine both wished and hoped to see the disputants proceed to arguments of more weight and conviction; and the painter, dreading the same issue, interposed with the usual exclamation of “For God's sake, gentlemen;” when the governor rose from table in great dudgeon, and left the room, muttering some ejaculation, of which the word coxcomb only could be distinctly heard. The physician, being thus left master of the field of battle, was complimented on his victory by Peregrine, and so elevated by his success, that he declaimed a full hour on the absurdity of Jolter's proposition, and the beauty of the democratic administration; canvassed the whole scheme of Plato's republic, with many quotations from that ideal author, touching the to kalon: from thence he made a transition to the moral sense of Shaftesbury, and concluded his harangue with the greatest part of that frothy writer's rhapsody, which he repeated with all the violence of enthusiastic agitation, to the unspeakable satisfaction of his entertainer, and the unutterable admiration of Pallet, who looked upon him as something supernatural and divine.
Peregrine both wished and hoped to see the debaters move on to arguments with more substance and conviction; and the painter, fearing the same outcome, interjected with the familiar plea of “For God's sake, gentlemen.” Just then, the governor got up from the table in a huff and left the room, mumbling something, of which only the word coxcomb could be clearly heard. With the governor gone, the physician found himself in control of the discussion and was praised for his triumph by Peregrine. So buoyed by his success, he went on for a whole hour about the ridiculousness of Jolter's idea and the virtues of democratic governance, discussing the entire concept of Plato's republic, peppered with many quotes from that ideal author regarding the to kalon. He then shifted to the moral perspective of Shaftesbury and wrapped up his speech by reciting most of that overly sentimental writer's ramblings, which he delivered with all the fervor of enthusiastic excitement, to the immense pleasure of his audience and the utter admiration of Pallet, who regarded him as something supernatural and divine.
So intoxicated was this vain young man with the ironical praises of Pickle, that he forthwith shook off all reserve; and having professed a friendship for our hero, whose taste and learning he did not fail to extol, intimated in plain terms, that he was the only person, in these latter ages, who possessed that genius, that portion of the divinity, or Ti Theion, which immortalized the Grecian poets: that as Pythagoras affirmed the spirit of Euphorbus had transmigrated into his body, he, the doctor, strangely possessed with the opinion that he himself was inspired by the soul of Pindar; because, making allowance for the difference of languages in which they wrote, there was a surprising affinity between his own works and those of that celebrated Theban; and as a confirmation of this truth, he immediately produced a sample of each, which, though in spirit and versification as different as the Odes of Horace and our present poet-laureat, Peregrine did not scruple to pronounce altogether congenial, notwithstanding the violence he by this sentence offered to his own conscience, and a certain alarm to his pride, that was weak enough to be disturbed by the physician's ridiculous vanity and presumption, which, not contented with displaying his importance in the world of taste and polite literature, manifested itself in arrogating certain material discoveries in the province of physic, which could not fail to advance him to the highest pinnacle of that profession, considering the recommendation of his other talents, together with a liberal fortune which he inherited from his father.
This vain young man was so flattered by Pickle’s sarcastic compliments that he immediately let go of all restraint. He professed a friendship for our hero, praising his taste and knowledge, and bluntly suggested that he was the only person in recent times who had the genius or divine spark, or Ti Theion, that made the ancient Greek poets immortal. Just as Pythagoras claimed the spirit of Euphorbus had entered his body, the doctor bizarrely believed he was inspired by the soul of Pindar. He argued that despite the differences in the languages they wrote in, there was a striking similarity between his own works and those of that famous Theban poet. To prove this point, he quickly showcased examples of both, which, although different in style and execution—like the Odes of Horace and the current poet-laureate—Peregrine hastily declared to be entirely similar, even though this assertion conflicted with his own conscience and slightly rattled his pride. His pride was fragile enough to be affected by the doctor’s absurd arrogance and self-importance, which, in addition to flaunting his standing in the realm of taste and literature, also involved claiming some significant medical discoveries that would surely elevate him to the highest ranks of that field, especially given his other talents and the substantial wealth he inherited from his father.
CHAPTER XLIV.
The Doctor prepares an Entertainment in the Manner of the Ancients, which is attended with divers ridiculous Circumstances.
The Doctor sets up an entertainment like the ones from ancient times, which is filled with various silly situations.
In a word, our young gentleman, by his insinuating behaviour, acquired the full confidence of the doctor, who invited him to an entertainment, which he intended to prepare in the manner of the ancients. Pickle, struck with this idea, eagerly embraced the proposal, which he honoured with many encomiums, as a plan in all respects worthy of his genius and apprehension; and the day was appointed at some distance of time, that the treater might have leisure to compose certain pickles and confections which were not to be found among the culinary preparations of these degenerate days. With a view of rendering the physician's taste more conspicuous, and extracting from it the more diversion, Peregrine proposed that some foreigners should partake of the banquet; and the task being left to his care and discretion, he actually bespoke the company of a French marquis, an Italian count, and a German baron, whom he knew to be egregious coxcombs, and therefore more likely to enhance the joy of the entertainment.
In short, our young gentleman, through his charming behavior, earned the complete trust of the doctor, who invited him to a gathering he planned to host in the style of ancient times. Pickle, fascinated by this idea, eagerly accepted the invitation, praising it as a concept truly worthy of his creativity and intellect. They set a date some time in the future to give the host ample opportunity to prepare special pickles and delicacies not found in the cooking of these modern times. To make the physician's taste more apparent and to add more fun to the event, Peregrine suggested including some foreigners at the feast; left to his judgment, he arranged for the attendance of a French marquis, an Italian count, and a German baron, knowing they were all quite vain and likely to add to the enjoyment of the gathering.
Accordingly, the hour being arrived, he conducted them to the hotel where the physician lodged, after having regaled their expectations with an elegant meal in the genuine old Roman taste; and they were received by Mr. Pallet, who did the honours of the house, while his friend superintended the cook below. By this communicative painter, the guests understood that the doctor had met with numerous difficulties in the execution of his design; that no fewer than five cooks had been dismissed, because they could not prevail upon their own consciences to obey his directions in things that were contrary to the present practice of their art; and that although he had at last engaged a person, by an extraordinary premium, to comply with his orders, the fellow was so astonished, mortified, and incensed at the commands he had received, that his hair stood on end, and he begged on his knees to be released from the agreement he had made; but finding that his employer insisted upon the performance of his contract, and threatened to introduce him to the commissaire if he should flinch from the bargain, he had, in the discharge of his office, wept, sang, cursed, and capered for two whole hours without intermission.
When the time came, he took them to the hotel where the doctor was staying, having pleased them with a fancy meal in the traditional old Roman style. They were welcomed by Mr. Pallet, who managed the place while his friend oversaw the kitchen below. Through this talkative painter, the guests learned that the doctor had faced many challenges in carrying out his plan; that no fewer than five cooks had been let go because they couldn't bring themselves to follow his instructions, which went against the current practices of their craft. Although he finally found someone, after offering an extravagant incentive, to comply with his wishes, the poor guy was so shocked, humiliated, and angry about the orders he received that his hair stood on end, and he begged on his knees to be freed from the agreement he made. However, when he realized that his boss insisted on him fulfilling his contract and threatened to report him to the commissaire if he backed out, he spent two whole hours doing his job, crying, singing, cursing, and dancing without a break.
While the company listened to this odd information, by which they were prepossessed with strange notions of the dinner, their ears were invaded by a voice that exclaimed in French, “For the love of God! dear sir! for the passion of Jesus Christ! spare me the mortification of the honey and oil!” Their ears still vibrated with the sound, when the doctor entering, was by Peregrine made acquainted with the strangers, to whom he, in the transports of his wrath, could not help complaining of the want of complaisance he had found in the Parisian vulgar, by which his plan had been almost entirely ruined and set aside. The French marquis, who thought the honour of his nation was concerned at this declaration, professed his sorrow for what had happened, so contrary to the established character of the people, and undertook to see the delinquents severely punished, provided he could be informed of their names or places of abode.
While the company absorbed this strange information, filling their heads with odd ideas about the dinner, their ears were hit by a voice that shouted in French, “For the love of God! dear sir! for the passion of Jesus Christ! please spare me the embarrassment of the honey and oil!” They were still buzzing from the sound when the doctor entered, and Peregrine introduced him to the strangers. In his fit of anger, the doctor couldn’t help but vent about the lack of courtesy he had experienced from the Parisian commoners, which had nearly derailed his plans. The French marquis, who felt that his nation’s honor was at stake with this statement, expressed his regret for what had occurred, which was so unlike the usual behavior of his countrymen, and promised to ensure the offenders were punished severely, provided he could find out their names or where they lived.
The mutual compliments that passed on this occasion were scarce finished, when a servant, coming into the room, announced dinner; and the entertainer led the way into another apartment, where they found a long table, or rather two boards joined together, and furnished with a variety of dishes, the steams of which had such evident effect upon the nerves of the company, that the marquis made frightful grimaces, under pretence of taking snuff; the Italian's eyes watered; the German's visage underwent several distortions of features; our hero found means to exclude the odour from his sense of smelling, by breathing only through his mouth; and the poor painter, running into another room, plugged his nostrils with tobacco. The doctor himself, who was the only person present, whose organs were not discomposed, pointing to a couple of couches placed on each side of the table, told his guests that he was sorry he could not procure the exact triclinia of the ancients, which were somewhat different from these conveniences, and desired they would have the goodness to repose themselves without ceremony, each in his respective couchette, while he and his friend Mr. Pallet would place themselves upright at the ends, that they might have the pleasure of serving those that lay along. This disposition, of which the strangers had no previous idea, disconcerted and perplexed them in a most ridiculous manner; the marquis and baron stood bowing to each other, on pretence of disputing the lower seat, but in reality with a view of profiting by the example of one another, for neither of them understood the manner in which they were to loll; and Peregrine, who enjoyed their confusion, handed the count to the other side, where, with the most mischievous politeness, he insisted upon his taking possession of the upper place.
The compliments exchanged at this moment were barely over when a servant entered the room to announce dinner. The host led everyone into another room, where they found a long table—actually, two boards pushed together—loaded with various dishes. The strong smells had quite an impact on the guests; the marquis made terrible faces while pretending to take snuff, the Italian's eyes watered, the German's face twisted in discomfort, our hero managed to block the odor by breathing only through his mouth, and the poor painter ran into another room to stuff his nostrils with tobacco. The doctor, the only one whose senses were unaffected, pointed to a couple of couches on either side of the table and apologized for not being able to provide the exact triclinia of the ancients, which were a bit different from these arrangements. He asked his guests to relax without ceremony on their respective couches while he and his friend Mr. Pallet took their places upright at the ends of the table so they could enjoy serving those reclining. This setup confused and puzzled the guests in a rather funny way; the marquis and the baron stood bowing to one another, pretending to argue over who would take the lower seat, but really trying to learn from each other's example since neither knew how to lounge properly. Peregrine, amused by their confusion, led the count to the other side and, with playful politeness, insisted that he take the higher spot.
In this disagreeable and ludicrous suspense, they continue acting a pantomime of gesticulations, until the doctor earnestly entreated them to waive all compliment and form, lest the dinner should be spoiled before the ceremonial could be adjusted. Thus conjured, Peregrine took the lower couch on the left-hand-side, laying himself gently down, with his face towards the table. The marquis, in imitation of this pattern (though he would have much rather fasted three days than run the risk of discomposing his dress by such an attitude), stretched himself upon the opposite place, reclining upon his elbow in a most painful and awkward situation, with his head raised above the end of the couch, that the economy of his hair might not suffer by the projection of his body. The Italian, being a thin limber creature, planted himself next to Pickle, without sustaining any misfortune but that of his stocking being torn by a ragged nail of the seat, as he raised his legs on a level with the rest of his limbs. But the baron, who was neither so wieldy nor supple in his joints as his companions, flounced himself down with such precipitation, that his feet, suddenly tilting up, came in furious contact with the head of the marquis, and demolished every curl in a twinkling, while his own skull, at the same instant, descended upon the side of his couch, with such violence, that his periwig was struck off, and the whole room filled with pulvilio.
In this awkward and ridiculous situation, they kept acting out a pantomime of gestures until the doctor seriously urged them to skip all compliments and formalities, so the dinner wouldn't be ruined before everything was set up. Prompted by this, Peregrine settled onto the lower couch on the left side, lying down gently with his face towards the table. The marquis, trying to mimic him (although he would have much rather fasted for three days than risk ruining his outfit by taking such a position), stretched out on the opposite couch, leaning on his elbow in a very uncomfortable and awkward way, raising his head above the end of the couch to keep his hairstyle intact. The Italian, being a slim and flexible guy, positioned himself next to Pickle, suffering only the misfortune of his stocking getting torn by a rough nail on the seat as he hoisted his legs to be level with the rest of his body. But the baron, who wasn’t as nimble or flexible as his companions, flopped down so quickly that his feet abruptly shot up and crashed into the marquis's head, ruining every curl in an instant, while at the same moment, his own head hit the side of the couch with such force that his wig flew off and the entire room was filled with powder.
The drollery of distress that attended this disaster entirely vanquished the affected gravity of our young gentleman, who was obliged to suppress his laughter by cramming his handkerchief in his mouth; for the bare-headed German asked pardon with such ridiculous confusion, and the marquis admitted his apology with such rueful complaisance, as were sufficient to awake the mirth of a quietist.
The amusing situation surrounding this disaster completely overwhelmed the serious demeanor of our young gentleman, who had to stifle his laughter by stuffing his handkerchief in his mouth. The bare-headed German apologized with such ridiculous embarrassment, and the marquis accepted his apology with such exaggerated sadness, that it was enough to bring a smile to even the most stoic person.
This misfortune being repaired as well as the circumstances of the occasion would permit, and every one settled according to the arrangement already described, the doctor graciously undertook to give some account of the dishes as they occurred, that the company might be directed in their choice: and with an air of infinite satisfaction thus began: “This here, gentlemen, is a boiled goose, served up in a sauce composed of pepper, lovage, coriander, mint, rue, anchovies; I wish for your sakes, gentlemen, it was one of the geese of Ferrara, so much celebrated among the ancients for the magnitude of their livers, one of which is said to have weighed upwards of two pounds; with this food, exquisite as it was, did the tyrant Heliogabalus regale his hounds. But I beg pardon, I had almost forgot the soup, which I hear is so necessary an article at all tables in France. At each end there are dishes of the salacacabia of the Romans; one is made of parsley, pennyroyal, cheese, pine-tops, honey, brine, eggs, cucumbers, onions, and hen livers; the other is much the same as the soup-maigre of this country. Then there is a loin of veal boiled with fennel and caraway-seed, on a pottage composed of pickle, oil, honey, and flour, and a curious hachis of the lights, liver, and blood of a hare, together with a dish of roasted pigeons. Monsieur le baron, shall I help you to a plate of this soup?” The German, who did not at all disapprove of the ingredients, assented to the proposal, and seemed to relish the composition; while the marquis being asked by the painter which of the silly-kickabys he chose, was, in consequence of his desire, accommodated with a portion of the soup-maigre; and the count, in lieu of spoon-meat, of which he said he was no great admirer, supplied himself with a pigeon, therein conforming to the choice of our young gentleman, whose example he determined to follow through the whole course of the entertainment.
This misfortune being fixed as well as the situation allowed, and everyone settled according to the arrangement already described, the doctor kindly took it upon himself to explain the dishes as they arrived, so the guests could choose wisely: “This here, gentlemen, is a boiled goose, served in a sauce made of pepper, lovage, coriander, mint, rue, and anchovies; I wish for your sake, gentlemen, it were one of the geese from Ferrara, which the ancients praised for the size of their livers, one of which is said to have weighed over two pounds; it was with this exquisite food that the tyrant Heliogabalus treated his hounds. But I apologize, I almost forgot the soup, which I hear is such an essential part of every meal in France. At each end, there are dishes of salacacabia from the Romans; one is made of parsley, pennyroyal, cheese, pine tops, honey, brine, eggs, cucumbers, onions, and hen livers; the other is very similar to the soup-maigre of this country. Next, there’s a loin of veal boiled with fennel and caraway seeds, served on a stew made of pickle, oil, honey, and flour, along with a unique hachis made from the lungs, liver, and blood of a hare, plus a dish of roasted pigeons. Monsieur le baron, would you like me to give you a plate of this soup?” The German, who didn’t mind the ingredients at all, agreed to the suggestion and seemed to enjoy the dish; while the marquis, when asked by the painter which of the silly-kickabys he preferred, was given a portion of the soup-maigre as per his request; and the count, instead of spoon-meat, which he claimed he didn't really like, helped himself to a pigeon, aligning himself with the choice of our young gentleman, whose example he decided to follow throughout the entire meal.
The Frenchman, having swallowed the first spoonful, made a full pause, his throat swelled as if an egg had stuck in his gullet, his eyes rolled, and his mouth underwent a series of involuntary contractions and dilatations. Pallet, who looked steadfastly at this connoisseur, with a view of consulting his taste, before he himself would venture upon the soup, began to be disturbed at these motions, and observed, with some concern, that the poor gentleman seemed to be going into a fit; when Peregrine assured him, that these were symptoms of ecstasy, and, for further confirmation, asked the marquis how he found the soup. It was with infinite difficulty that his complaisance could so far master his disgust as to enable him to answer, “Altogether excellent, upon my honour!” and the painter being certified of his approbation, lifted the spoon to his mouth without scruple, but far from justifying the eulogium of his taster, when this precious composition diffused itself upon his palate, he seemed to be deprived of all sense and motion, and sat like the leaden statue of some river god, with the liquor flowing out at both sides of his mouth.
The Frenchman, after taking the first spoonful, paused completely, his throat swelled as if an egg was stuck, his eyes rolled, and his mouth went through a series of involuntary movements. Pallet, watching this connoisseur closely to gauge his reaction before trying the soup himself, began to feel uneasy at these actions and noted with concern that the poor gentleman looked like he was having a fit; when Peregrine reassured him that these signs indicated ecstasy, he asked the marquis how he found the soup for additional confirmation. With great effort, the marquis managed to suppress his disgust enough to respond, “Altogether excellent, I swear!” With this approval, the painter confidently lifted the spoon to his mouth, but instead of backing up the marquis's compliment, when this exquisite mixture hit his palate, he seemed to lose all sense and motion, sitting there like a heavy statue of some river god, with the liquid spilling out from both sides of his mouth.
The doctor, alarmed at this indecent phenomenon, earnestly inquired into the cause of it; and when Pallet recovered his recollection, and swore that he would rather swallow porridge made of burning brimstone, than such an infernal mess as that which he had tasted, the physician, in his own vindication, assured the company, that, except the usual ingredients, he had mixed nothing in the soup but some sal ammoniac instead of the ancient nitrum, which could not now be procured; and appealed to the marquis, whether such a succedaneum was not an improvement on the whole. The unfortunate petit-maitre, driven to the extremity of his condescension, acknowledged it to be a masterly refinement; and deeming himself obliged, in point of honour, to evince his sentiments by his practice, forced a few more mouthfuls of this disagreeable potion down his throat, till his stomach was so much offended, that he was compelled to start up of a sudden; and, in the hurry of his elevation, overturned his plate into the bosom of the baron. The emergency of this occasion would not permit him to stay and make apologies for his abrupt behaviour; so that he flew into another apartment, where Pickle found him puking and crossing himself with great devotion; and a chair, at his desire, being brought to the door, he slipped into it more dead than alive, conjuring his friend Pickle to make his peace with the company, and in particular excuse him to the baron, on account of the violent fit of illness with which he had been seized. It was not without reason that he employed a mediator; for when our hero returned to the dining-room, the German got up, and was under the hands of his own lacquey, who wiped the grease from a rich embroidered waistcoat, while he, almost frantic with his misfortune, stamped upon the ground, and in High Dutch cursed the unlucky banquet, and the impertinent entertainer, who all this time, with great deliberation, consoled him for the disaster, by assuring him that the damage done might be repaired with some oil of turpentine and a hot iron. Peregrine, who could scarce refrain from laughing in his face, appeased his indignation by telling him how much the whole company, and especially, the marquis, was mortified at the accident; and the unhappy salacacabia being removed, the places were filled with two pies, one of dormice liquored with syrup of white poppies, which the doctor had substituted in the room of toasted poppy-seed, formerly eaten with honey, as a dessert; and the other composed of a hock of pork baked in honey.
The doctor, shocked by this outrageous situation, seriously asked what caused it; and when Pallet regained his senses and insisted he'd rather eat porridge made of burning brimstone than the awful mess he just tasted, the physician, trying to defend himself, told everyone that other than the usual ingredients, he only added some sal ammoniac instead of the old nitrum, which was no longer available. He asked the marquis if such a substitute wasn’t actually an improvement overall. The unfortunate petit-maitre, pushed to the limit of his politeness, admitted it was a clever refinement; feeling obliged to show this through his actions, he forced down a few more mouthfuls of the unpleasant soup until his stomach protested so much that he had to jump up suddenly, and in his haste, he knocked his plate into the baron's lap. The urgency of the situation didn’t allow him to stay and apologize for his sudden behavior, so he rushed into another room, where Pickle found him vomiting and fervently crossing himself; and after asking for a chair to be brought to the door, he collapsed into it, looking more dead than alive, begging his friend Pickle to smooth things over with the group and especially excuse him to the baron because of the violent illness that had struck him. It was wise of him to want a go-between; for when our hero returned to the dining room, the German had gotten up and was being attended to by his own servant, who was wiping the grease off his fancy embroidered waistcoat, while the German, almost mad with his misfortune, stomped on the ground and, in High Dutch, cursed the disastrous feast and the rude host, who, all this time, calmly reassured him that the damage could be fixed with some turpentine and a hot iron. Peregrine, barely holding back laughter, calmed him down by saying how upset the whole company, especially the marquis, was about the accident; and after the unfortunate dish was removed, they brought out two pies to fill the spots, one made of dormice soaked in white poppy syrup, which the doctor had replaced for the toasted poppy seeds that were previously eaten with honey for dessert, and the other made of a hock of pork baked in honey.
Pallet, hearing the first of these dishes described, lifted up his hands and eyes, and with signs of loathing and amazement, pronounced, “A pie made of dormice and syrup of poppies! Lord in heaven! what beastly fellows those Romans were!” His friend checked him for his irreverent exclamation with a severe look, and recommended the veal, of which he himself cheerfully ate, with such encomiums to the company, that the baron resolved to imitate his example, after having called for a bumper of Burgundy, which the physician, for his sake, wished to have been the true wine of Falernum. The painter, seeing nothing else upon the table which he would venture to touch, made a merit of necessity, and had recourse to the veal also; although he could not help saying that he would not give one slice of the roast beef of Old England for all the dainties of a Roman Emperor's table. But all the doctor's invitations and assurances could not prevail upon his guests to honour the hachis and the goose; and that course was succeeded by another, in which he told them were divers of those dishes, which among the ancients had obtained the appellation of politeles, or magnificent. “That which smokes in the middle,” said he, “is a sow's stomach, filled with a composition of minced pork, hog's brains, eggs, pepper, cloves, garlic, aniseed, rue, ginger, oil, wine, and pickle. On the right-hand side are the teats and belly of a sow, just farrowed, fried with sweet wine, oil, flour, lovage, and pepper. On the left is a fricassee of snails, fed, or rather purged, with milk. At that end next Mr. Pallet are fritters of pompions, lovage, origanum, and oil; and here are a couple of pullets roasted and stuffed in the manner of Apicius.”
Pallet, upon hearing the description of the first dish, raised his hands and eyes in disgust, exclaiming, “A pie made of dormice and poppy syrup! Good grief! What disgusting people those Romans were!” His friend silenced him with a stern look and suggested the veal, which he joyfully ate, praising it to the group, so much so that the baron decided to follow his lead after ordering a glass of Burgundy, which the doctor wished was the true wine of Falernum. The painter, seeing nothing else on the table that he dared to try, reluctantly chose the veal as well, though he couldn’t help but mention that he wouldn’t trade a single slice of Old England’s roast beef for all the delicacies of a Roman Emperor's feast. But despite all the doctor’s invitations and reassurances, his guests wouldn’t touch the hachis or the goose, prompting him to present another course, featuring several dishes that the ancients referred to as politeles, or magnificent. “That steaming dish in the middle,” he said, “is a sow's stomach filled with a mixture of minced pork, hog's brains, eggs, pepper, cloves, garlic, aniseed, rue, ginger, oil, wine, and pickle. On the right is the teats and belly of a recently farrowed sow, fried with sweet wine, oil, flour, lovage, and pepper. To the left is a fricassee of snails, fed, or rather purged, with milk. Next to Mr. Pallet are fritters made with pumpkin, lovage, oregano, and oil; and here we have a couple of pullets roasted and stuffed in the style of Apicius.”
The painter, who had by wry faces testified his abhorrence of the sow's stomach, which he compared to a bagpipe, and the snails which had undergone purgation, he no sooner heard him mention the roasted pullets, than he eagerly solicited a wing of the fowl; upon which the doctor desired he would take the trouble of cutting them up, and accordingly sent them round, while Pallet tucked the table-cloth under his chin, and brandished his knife and fork with singular address: but scarce were they set down before him, when the tears ran down his cheeks; and he called aloud, in a manifest disorder, “Zounds! this is the essence of a whole bed of garlic!” That he might not, however, disappoint or disgrace the entertainer, he applied his instruments to one of the birds; and when he opened up the cavity, was assaulted by such an irruption of intolerable smells, that, without staying to disengage himself from the cloth, he sprang away, with an exclamation of “Lord Jesus!” and involved the whole table in havoc, ruin, and confusion.
The painter, who had shown his disgust for the pig’s stomach—comparing it to a bagpipe—and the snails that had been purged, immediately perked up when he heard about the roasted chickens. He eagerly asked for a wing of the bird. The doctor then requested that he cut them up, and so he sent them around. Meanwhile, Pallet tucked the tablecloth under his chin and handled his knife and fork with surprising skill. But hardly had the dishes been placed in front of him when tears started streaming down his face, and he shouted, sounding quite distressed, “Wow! This smells like a whole bed of garlic!” However, not wanting to disappoint or embarrass his host, he dug into one of the chickens. As he opened it up, he was hit by an overwhelming wave of unbearable smells, and without taking the time to free himself from the tablecloth, he jumped up, exclaiming, “Lord Jesus!” This caused chaos, destruction, and confusion all over the table.
Before Pickle could accomplish his escape, he was sauced with the syrup of the dormouse pie, which went to pieces in the general wreck; and as for the Italian count, he was overwhelmed by the sow's stomach, which, bursting in the fall, discharged its contents upon his leg and thigh, and scalded him so miserably, that he shrieked with anguish, and grinned with a most ghastly and horrible aspect.
Before Pickle could make his escape, he was drenched with the syrup from the dormouse pie, which fell apart in the chaos; and as for the Italian count, he was hit by the sow's stomach, which burst on impact, spilling its contents all over his leg and thigh, and scalding him so badly that he screamed in pain and grimaced in a truly ghastly and horrific way.
The baron, who sat secure without the vortex of this tumult, was not at all displeased at seeing his companions involved in such a calamity as that which he had already shared; but the doctor was confounded with shame and vexation. After having prescribed an application of oil to the count's leg, he expressed his sorrow for the misadventure, which he openly ascribed to want of taste and prudence in the painter, who did not think proper to return, and make an apology in person; and protested that there was nothing in the fowls which could give offence to a sensible nose, the stuffing being a mixture of pepper, lovage, and assafoetida, and the sauce consisting of wine and herring-pickle, which he had used instead of the celebrated garum of the Romans; that famous pickle having been prepared sometimes of the scombri, which were a sort of tunny-fish, and sometimes of the silurus, or shad-fish: nay, he observed that there was a third kind, called garum haemation, made of the guts, gills, and blood of the thynnus.
The baron, who sat comfortably away from the chaos, was quite pleased to see his friends caught up in the same disaster he had already experienced; however, the doctor was filled with shame and frustration. After recommending an oil treatment for the count's leg, he expressed his regret about the incident, which he clearly blamed on the painter’s lack of taste and judgment for not coming back to apologize in person. He insisted that there was nothing in the dishes that could upset a discerning palate, as the stuffing was made with pepper, lovage, and asafoetida, while the sauce contained wine and herring pickle, which he had used instead of the famous garum from Roman times; that well-known pickle was sometimes made from scombridae, a type of tuna, and sometimes from silurus, or shad. He even mentioned a third variety, called garum haemation, made from the guts, gills, and blood of the thynnus.
The physician, finding it would be impracticable to re-establish the order of the banquet, by presenting again the dishes which had been discomposed, ordered everything to be removed, a clean cloth to be laid, and the dessert to be brought in. Meanwhile, he regretted his incapacity to give them a specimen of the aliens, or fish meals of the ancients, such as the jus diabaton, the conger-eel, which, in Galen's opinion, is hard of digestion; the cornuta, or gurnard, described by Pliny in his Natural History, who says, the horns of many of them were a foot and a half in length, the mullet and lamprey, that were in the highest estimation of old, of which last Julius Caesar borrowed six thousand for one triumphal supper. He observed that the manner of dressing them was described by Horace, in the account he gives of the entertainment to which Maecenas was invited by the epicure Nasidienus:—
The doctor realized it would be impossible to fix the banquet by bringing back the messed-up dishes, so he ordered everything to be cleared away, a fresh tablecloth to be laid down, and the dessert to be served. In the meantime, he wished he could provide them with a sample of the ancient delicacies or fish dishes, like the jus diabaton or conger eel, which Galen said was hard to digest; the cornuta, or gurnard, that Pliny mentioned in his Natural History, noting that the horns of many were a foot and a half long; the mullet and lamprey, which were highly regarded in the past, with Julius Caesar reportedly borrowing six thousand for one triumphal banquet. He noted that Horace described how to prepare these dishes in his account of the dinner to which Maecenas was invited by the epicurean Nasidienus:—
Affertur squillas inter muraena natantes, etc.
Affertur squillas inter muraena natantes, etc.
and told them that they were commonly eaten with the thus Syriacum, a certain anodyne and astringent seed, which qualified the purgative nature of the fish. This learned physician gave them to understand, that though this was reckoned a luxurious fish in the zenith of the Roman taste, it was by no means comparable, in point of expense, to some preparations in vogue about the time of that absurd voluptuary Heliogabalus, who ordered the brains of six hundred ostriches to be compounded in one illness.
and told them that they were usually eaten with the Syriacum, a certain soothing and tightening seed, which balanced out the purgative effect of the fish. This knowledgeable doctor made it clear that although this fish was considered a luxury in the height of Roman fashion, it was nowhere near as expensive as some dishes popular during the time of that ridiculous hedonist Heliogabalus, who had six hundred ostrich brains mixed together in one meal.
By this time the dessert appeared, and the company were not a little rejoiced to see plain olives in salt and water: butt what the master of the feast valued himself upon, was a sort of jelly, which he affirmed to be preferable to the hypotrimma of Hesychius, being a mixture of vinegar, pickle, and honey, boiled to proper consistence, and candied assafoetida, which he asserted, in contradiction to Aumelbergius and Lister, was no other than the laser Syriacum, so precious, as to be sold among the ancients to the weight of a silver penny. The gentlemen took his word for the excellency of this gum, but contented themselves with the olives, which gave such an agreeable relish to the wine, that they seemed very well disposed to console themselves for the disgraces they had endured; and Pickle, unwilling to lose the least circumstance of entertainment that could be enjoyed in their company, went in quest of the painter, who remained in his penitentials in another apartment, and could not be persuaded to re-enter the banqueting room, until Peregrine undertook to procure his pardon from those whom he had injured. Having assured him of this indulgence, our young gentleman led him in like a criminal, bowing on all hands with all air of humility and contrition; and particularly addressing himself to the count, to whom he swore in English, as God was his Saviour, he had no intent to affront man, woman, or child: but was fain to make the best of his way, that he might not give the honourable company cause of offence, by obeying the dictates of nature in their presence.
By this time, dessert arrived, and everyone was pretty happy to see plain olives in saltwater. But what the host took pride in was a type of jelly, which he claimed was better than the hypotrimma of Hesychius. It was a mix of vinegar, pickles, and honey, boiled to the right consistency, and candied asafoetida, which he insisted, contrary to Aumelbergius and Lister, was nothing other than the laser Syriacum, so valuable that it was sold in ancient times for the weight of a silver penny. The gentlemen accepted his word about the greatness of this gum but settled for the olives, which paired so well with the wine that they seemed to be in a good mood, ready to cheer themselves up after the troubles they had faced. Pickle, not wanting to miss any chance to enjoy the company, went to find the painter, who was still sulking in another room and couldn't be convinced to come back to the banquet until Peregrine promised to get him forgiveness from those he had wronged. Once he assured him of this leniency, our young gentleman brought him back like a guilty man, bowing to everyone with all the humility and remorse he could muster; he particularly addressed the count, swearing in English, as God was his Savior, that he had no intention of offending anyone, but had to make his escape to avoid causing discomfort to the honorable company by following the natural course of events in their presence.
When Pickle interpreted this apology to the Italian, Pallet was forgiven in very polite terms, and even received into favour by his friend the doctor, in consequence of our hero's intercession: so that all the guests forgot their chagrin, and paid their respects so piously to the bottle, that in a short time the Champagne produced very evident effects in the behaviour of all present.
When Pickle translated this apology for the Italian, Pallet was forgiven in very polite terms and even welcomed back into the good graces of his friend, the doctor, thanks to our hero's intervention. As a result, all the guests put aside their frustration and paid their respects to the bottle so earnestly that it wasn't long before the Champagne clearly affected the behavior of everyone present.
CHAPTER XLV.
The Painter is persuaded to accompany Pickle to a Masquerade in Woman's Apparel—-Is engaged in a troublesome Adventure, and, with his Companion, conveyed to the Bastille.
The Painter is talked into going with Pickle to a masquerade in women's clothing—gets caught up in a messy situation, and, along with his friend, is taken to the Bastille.
The painter, at the request of Pickle, who had a design upon the count's sense of hearing, favoured the company with the song of Bumper Squire Jones, which yielded infinite satisfaction to the baron, but affected the delicate ears of the Italian in such a manner, that his features expressed astonishment and disquiet; and by his sudden and repeated journeys to the door, it plainly appeared, that he was in the same predicament with those who, as Shakespeare observes, “when the bagpipe sings in the nose, cannot contain their urine for affection.”
The painter, at Pickle's request, who wanted to play on the count's sense of hearing, entertained everyone with the song of Bumper Squire Jones. This brought immense joy to the baron, but it disturbed the delicate ears of the Italian, making his expression show both surprise and unease. His constant and hurried trips to the door clearly indicated that he was in the same situation as those who, as Shakespeare puts it, “when the bagpipe sings in the nose, cannot contain their urine for affection.”
With a view, therefore, of vindicating music from such a barbarous taste. Mr. Pallet had no sooner performed his task, than the count honoured his friends with some favourite airs of his own country, which he warbled with infinite grace and expression, though he had not energy sufficient to engage the attention of the German, who fell fast asleep upon his couch, and snored so loud, as to interrupt, and totally annul, this ravishing entertainment; so that they were fain to have recourse again to the glass, which made such innovation upon the brain of the physician, that he sang divers odes of Anacreon to a tune of his own composing, and held forth upon the music and recitative of the ancients with great erudition; while Pallet, having found means to make the Italian acquainted with the nature of his profession, harangued upon painting with wonderful volubility, in a language which (it was well for his own credit) the stranger did not understand.
With the goal of redeeming music from such a crude taste, Mr. Pallet quickly finished his task. Then, the count delighted his friends with some favorite songs from his homeland, which he sung with incredible grace and emotion. However, he lacked the energy to capture the attention of the German, who promptly fell asleep on his couch and snored so loudly that it disrupted and completely ruined this captivating performance. As a result, they turned once again to their drinks, which affected the physician’s mind so much that he began singing various odes of Anacreon to a tune of his own making. He also spoke extensively about the music and recitation of the ancients with great knowledge. Meanwhile, Pallet managed to inform the Italian about the nature of his profession and talked about painting with impressive fluency, in a language that (thankfully for his reputation) the stranger did not understand.
At length the doctor was seized with such a qualm, that he begged Peregrine to lead him to his chamber; and the baron, being waked, retired with the count. Peregrine, being rendered frolicsome with the wine he had drunk, proposed that he and Pallet should go to a masquerade, which he recollected was to be given that night. The painter did not want curiosity and inclination to accompany him, but expressed his apprehension of losing him in the ball; an accident which could not fail to be very disagreeable, as he was an utter stranger to the language and the town. To obviate this objection, the landlady, who was of their council, advised him to appear in a woman's dress, which would lay his companion under the necessity of attending him with more care, as he could not with decency detach himself from the lady whom he should introduce; besides, such a connection would hinder the ladies of pleasure from accosting and employing their seducing arts upon a person already engaged.
Eventually, the doctor became so queasy that he asked Peregrine to take him to his room; the baron, waking up, left with the count. Peregrine, feeling playful from the wine he had consumed, suggested that he and Pallet should go to a masquerade he remembered was happening that night. The painter was curious and eager to join but expressed his worry about losing track of Peregrine at the ball, which would be quite unpleasant since he was unfamiliar with the language and the town. To address this concern, the landlady, who was part of their discussion, recommended that he dress as a woman. This way, his companion would have to pay more attention to him, as he couldn't properly detach himself from the lady he would be introducing; in addition, such a disguise would prevent other women from approaching him and trying to use their charm to distract him since he would already be “taken.”
Our young gentleman foreseeing the abundance of diversion in the execution of this project, seconded the proposal with such importunity and address, that the painter allowed himself to be habited in a suit belonging to the landlady, who also procured for him a mask and domino, while Pickle provided himself with a Spanish dress. In this disguise, which they put on about eleven o'clock, did they, attended by Pipes, set out in a fiacre for the ball-room, into which Pickle led this supposititious female, to the astonishment of the whole company, who had never seen such an uncouth figure in the appearance of a woman.
Our young gentleman, anticipating the fun this project would bring, backed the idea with such enthusiasm and charm that the painter agreed to wear a suit belonging to the landlady, who also got him a mask and domino, while Pickle dressed in a Spanish outfit. In this disguise, which they put on around eleven o'clock, they, accompanied by Pipes, set off in a cab for the ballroom, where Pickle led this fake woman, leaving the entire crowd astonished, as they had never seen such an awkward figure pretending to be female.
After they had taken a view of all the remarkable masks, and the painter had been treated with a of glass of liqueur, his mischievous companion gave him the slip; and, vanishing in an instant, returned with another mask and a domino over his habit, that he might enjoy Pallet's perplexity, and be at hand to protect him from insult. The poor painter, having lost his guide, was almost distracted with anxiety, and stalked about the room, in quest of him, with such huge strides and oddity of gesture, that he was followed by a whole multitude, who gazed at him as a preternatural phenomenon. This attendance increased his uneasiness to such a degree, that he could not help uttering a soliloquy aloud, in which he cursed his fate for having depended upon the promise of such a wag; and swore, that if once he was clear of this scrape, he would not bring himself into such a premunire again for the whole kingdom of France.
After they had looked at all the amazing masks, and the painter had been treated to a glass of liqueur, his mischievous friend slipped away; he vanished in an instant and came back with another mask and a cloak over his outfit, just to enjoy Pallet's confusion and be ready to protect him from any insults. The poor painter, having lost his companion, was almost overwhelmed with anxiety, and wandered around the room in search of him, taking such large strides and making such strange gestures that a whole crowd followed him, staring at him as if he were a bizarre spectacle. This attention increased his anxiety to the point where he couldn't help but speak aloud to himself, cursing his luck for relying on the promise of such a trickster; he vowed that if he ever got out of this situation, he would never put himself in such a predicament again for the entire kingdom of France.
Divers petit-maitres, understanding the mask was a foreigner, who in all probability could not speak French, made up to him in their turns, in order to display their wit and address, and teased him with several arch questions, to which he made no other reply than “No parly Francy. D— your chattering! Go about your business, can't ye.” Among the masks was a nobleman, who began to be very free with the supposed lady, and attempted to plunge his hand into her bosom: but the painter was too modest to suffer such indecent treatment; and when the gallant repeated his efforts in a manner still more indelicate, lent him such a box on the ear, as made the lights dance before him, and created such a suspicion of Pallet's sex, that the Frenchman swore he was either a male or a hermaphrodite, and insisted upon a scrutiny, for the sake of his own honour, with such obstinacy of resentment, that the nymph was in imminent danger, not only of being exposed, but also undergoing severe chastisement, for having made so free with the prince's ear; when Peregrine, who saw and overheard everything that passed, thought it was high time to interpose; and accordingly asserted his pretensions to the insulted lady, who was overjoyed at this proof of his protection.
Several young gentlemen, realizing the masked person was a foreigner who probably couldn’t speak French, approached him in turn to show off their wit and engaged him with several cheeky questions. He responded only with, “No parly Francy. D— your chattering! Go about your business, can't you?” Among the masks was a nobleman who became quite familiar with the supposed lady and tried to put his hand down her dress. However, the painter was too modest to allow such disrespectful behavior; when the nobleman persisted in an even more inappropriate manner, the painter slapped him hard enough to make him see stars. This raised doubts about the painter's gender, leading the Frenchman to assert that he was either a man or a hermaphrodite, demanding an examination for the sake of his own honor. His anger was so intense that the lady was in serious danger of being exposed and facing harsh punishment for being so forward with the prince's ear. Peregrine, who saw and heard everything that was happening, felt it was the right moment to step in and claimed his relationship with the insulted lady, which made her very happy as a sign of his protection.
The affronted gallant persevered in demanding to know who she was, and our hero as strenuously refused to give him that satisfaction: so that high words ensued; and the prince threatening to punish his insolence, the young gentleman, who was not supposed to know his quality, pointed to the place where his own sword used to hang, and, snapping his fingers in his face, laid hold on the painter's arm, and led him to another part of the room, leaving his antagonist to the meditations of his own revenge.
The offended suitor insisted on knowing who she was, and our hero stubbornly refused to satisfy his curiosity. This led to a heated exchange, and when the prince threatened to deal with his disrespect, the young man, who was unaware of the prince's status, pointed to where his own sword normally hung, snapped his fingers in the prince's face, grabbed the painter's arm, and led him to another part of the room, leaving his rival to stew in his own vengeful thoughts.
Pallet, having chid his conductor for his barbarous desertion, made him acquainted with the difficulty in which he had been involved; and flatly telling him he would not put it in his power to give him the slip again, held fast by his arm during the remaining part of the entertainment, to the no small diversion of the company, whose attention was altogether engrossed in the contemplation of such an awkward, ungainly, stalking apparition. At last Pickle, being tired of exhibiting this raree-show, complied with the repeated desires of his companion, and handed her into the coach; which he himself had no sooner entered, than they were surrounded by a file of musqueteers, commanded by an exempt, who, ordering the coach-door to be opened, took his place with great deliberation, while one of his detachment mounted the box, in order to direct the driver.
Pallet, having scolded his companion for his cruel abandonment, let him know about the trouble he found himself in. He made it clear that he wouldn't let him get away again, holding onto his arm for the rest of the event, much to the amusement of the guests, who were completely captivated by such an awkward and clumsy sight. Finally, Pickle, growing weary of putting on this unusual display, agreed to his friend's repeated requests and helped her into the coach. As soon as he got in himself, they were surrounded by a group of musketeers led by an officer, who ordered the coach door to be opened and took his seat with great care, while one of his men climbed onto the box to direct the driver.
Peregrine at once conceived the meaning of this arrest, and it was well for him that he had no weapon wherewith to stand upon his defence; for such was the impetuosity and rashness of his temper, that, had he been armed, he would have run all risks rather than surrender himself to any odds whatever; but Pallet, imagining that the officer was some gentleman who had mistaken their carriage for his own, desired his friend to undeceive the stranger; and when he was informed of the real state of their condition, his knees began to shake, his teeth to chatter, and he uttered a most doleful lamentation, importing his fear of being carried to some hideous dungeon of the Bastille, where he should spend the rest of his days in misery and horror, and never see the light of God's sun, nor the face of a friend; but perish in a foreign land, far removed from his family and connexions. Pickle d—d him for his pusillanimity; and the exempt hearing a lady bemoan herself so piteously, expressed his mortification at being the instrument of giving her such pain, and endeavoured to console them by representing the lenity of the French government, and the singular generosity of the prince, by whose order they were apprehended.
Peregrine immediately understood the meaning of the arrest, and it was a good thing he wasn’t armed, because his impulsive nature would have led him to take all risks rather than submit to any odds. Meanwhile, Pallet thought the officer was just a gentleman who had mistakenly approached them, so he urged his friend to clear up the misunderstanding. But when he learned the true situation, his knees started to shake, his teeth began to chatter, and he let out a mournful wail, expressing his fear of being taken to some dreadful dungeon in the Bastille, where he would spend the rest of his days in misery and horror, never seeing the light of day or the face of a friend again, and dying far from his family and connections. Pickle cursed him for his cowardice, and the officer, hearing a lady lament so tragically, felt embarrassed for causing her such distress. He tried to reassure them by highlighting the leniency of the French government and the unusual generosity of the prince who had ordered their arrest.
Peregrine, whose discretion seemed to forsake him on all such occasions, exclaimed, with great bitterness, against the arbitrary administration of France, and inveighed, with many expressions of contempt, against the character of the offended prince, whose resentment, far from being noble, he mid, was pitiful, ungenerous, and unjust. To this remonstrance the officer made no reply, but shrugged up his shoulders in silent astonishment at the hardiesse of the prisoner; and the fiacre was just on the point of setting out, when they heard the noise of a scuffle at the back of the coach, and the voice of Tom Pipes pronouncing, “I'll be d—d if I do.” This trusty attendant had been desired by one of the guards to descend from his station in the rear; but as he resolved to share his master's fate, he took no notice of their entreaties, until they were seconded by force; and that he endeavoured to repeal with his heel, which he applied with such energy to the jaws of the soldier, who first came in contact with him, that they emitted a crashing sound like a dried walnut between the grinders of a Templar in the pit. Exasperated at this outrage, the other saluted Tom's posteriors with his bayonet, which incommoded him so much that he could no longer keep his post, but, leaping upon the ground, gave his antagonist a chuck under the chin, and laid him upon his back, then skipping over him with infinite agility, absconded among the crowd of coaches, till he saw the guard mount before and behind upon his master's fiacre, which no sooner set forward, than he followed at a small distance, to reconnoitre the place where Peregrine should be confined. After having proceeded slowly through many windings and turnings to a part of Paris, in which Pipes was an utter stranger, the coach stopped at a great gate, with a wicket in the middle, which, being opened at the approach of the carriage, the prisoners were admitted; and, the guard returning with the fiacre, Tom determined to watch in that place all night, that, in the morning, he might make such observations as might be conducive to the enlargement of his master.
Peregrine, who never seemed to hold back his opinions on such occasions, angrily criticized the unfair ruling of France and insulted the character of the offended prince, saying that his anger was not noble but rather pathetic, petty, and unjust. The officer didn't respond, just shrugged in disbelief at the prisoner's boldness. Just as the cab was about to leave, they heard a scuffle at the back, accompanied by Tom Pipes shouting, “I’ll be damned if I do.” This loyal servant had been asked by one of the guards to step down from his position, but since he was determined to stick with his master, he ignored their pleas until they tried to remove him by force. He then retaliated by kicking the first soldier who approached him in the jaw, producing a sound similar to a walnut cracking under a Templar's teeth. Furious over this attack, another soldier jabbed Tom with his bayonet, which was so annoying that Tom couldn't stay in place any longer. He jumped down, gave his opponent a jab under the chin, knocking him down, and then skillfully leaped over him, disappearing into the crowd of coaches. He waited until he saw the guards mount the fiacre, and as it started moving, he followed at a distance to scout where Peregrine would be held. After slowly making his way through several turns and unfamiliar parts of Paris, the coach stopped at a large gate with a small door in the center. When that door opened as the carriage approached, the prisoners were let in. Once the guards returned without the cab, Tom decided to stay there all night to gather information that might help free his master in the morning.
CHAPTER XLVI.
By the Fidelity of Pipes, Jolter is informed of his Pupil's fate—Confers with the Physician—Applies to the Ambassador, who, with great difficulty, obtains the Discharge of the Prisoners on certain Conditions.
By the Loyalty of Pipes, Jolter learns about his Student's fate—Consults with the Doctor—Requests help from the Ambassador, who, with much effort, secures the Release of the Prisoners under certain Conditions.
This plan he executed, notwithstanding the pain of his wound, and the questions of the city-guard, both horse and foot, to which he could make no other answer than “Anglais, anglais;” and as soon as it was light, taking an accurate survey of the castle (for such it seemed to be) into which Peregrine and Pallet had been conveyed, together with its situation in respect to the river, he went home to the lodgings, and, waking Mr. Jolter, gave him an account of the adventure. The governor wrung his hands in the utmost grief and consternation when he heard this unfortunate piece of news: he did not doubt that his pupil was imprisoned in the Bastille for life; and, in the anguish of his apprehension, cursed the day on which he had undertaken to superintend the conduct of such an imprudent young man, who had, by reiterated insults, provoked the vengeance of such a mild, forbearing administration. That he might not, however, neglect any means in his power to extricate him from his present misfortune, he despatched Thomas to the doctor, with an account of his companion's fate, that they might join their interest in behalf of the captives; and the physician, being informed of what had happened, immediately dressed himself, and repaired to Jolter, whom he accosted in these words:—
This plan he carried out despite the pain from his wound and the questions from the city guard, both mounted and on foot, to which he could only respond, “English, English.” As soon as it was light, he carefully surveyed the castle (or so it appeared) where Peregrine and Pallet had been taken, along with its location in relation to the river. He then returned to his lodgings and woke Mr. Jolter to tell him about the adventure. The governor was heartbroken and deeply troubled when he heard the unfortunate news: he was sure his pupil was imprisoned in the Bastille for life. In his anguish, he cursed the day he took on the role of supervising such a reckless young man, who had provoked the wrath of a government that was otherwise mild and tolerant. However, not wanting to overlook any means to help his pupil escape his current predicament, he sent Thomas to the doctor with news of his companion's fate, so they could combine their efforts for the captives. When the physician learned what had happened, he immediately got dressed and headed to Jolter, greeting him with these words:—
“Now, sir, I hope you are convinced of your error in asserting that oppression can never be the effect of arbitrary power. Such a calamity as this could never have happened under the Athenian democracy: nay, even when the tyrant Pisistratus got possession of that commonwealth, he durst not venture to rule with such absolute and unjust dominion. You shall see now that Mr. Pickle and my friend Pallet will fall a sacrifice to the tyranny of lawless power; and, in my opinion, we shall be accessory to the ruin of this poor enslaved people if we bestir ourselves in demanding or imploring the release of our unhappy countrymen; as we may thereby prevent the commission of a flagrant crime, which would fill up the vengeance of Heaven against the perpetrators, and perhaps be the means of restoring the whole nation to the unspeakable fruition of freedom. For my own part, I should rejoice to see the blood of my father spilt in such a glorious cause, provided such a victim would furnish me with the opportunity of dissolving the chains of slavery, and vindicating that liberty which is the birthright of man. Then would my name be immortalised among the patriot heroes of antiquity, and my memory, like that of Harmodius and Aristogiton, be honoured by statues erected at the public expense.”
“Now, sir, I hope you realize your mistake in claiming that oppression can never come from arbitrary power. Such a disaster would never have occurred under the Athenian democracy; in fact, even when the tyrant Pisistratus took control of that state, he didn't dare to rule with such absolute and unjust authority. You will see now that Mr. Pickle and my friend Pallet will fall victim to the tyranny of lawless power; and in my opinion, we will be complicit in the downfall of these poor enslaved people if we do not act to demand or plead for the release of our unfortunate countrymen; as we may thereby prevent a terrible crime, which would incur the wrath of Heaven against those responsible, and perhaps be the means of restoring the entire nation to the indescribable joy of freedom. Personally, I would take pleasure in seeing my father's blood spilled in such a noble cause, as long as such a sacrifice would give me the chance to break the chains of slavery and uphold that liberty which is everyone's birthright. Then my name would be remembered among the great patriot heroes of the past, and my memory, like that of Harmodius and Aristogiton, would be honored with statues built at the public's expense.”
This rhapsody, which was delivered with great emphasis and agitation, gave so much offence to Jolter, that, without saying one word, he retired in great wrath to his own chamber; and the republican returned to his lodging, in full hope of his prognostic being verified in the death and destruction of Peregrine and the painter, which must give rise to some renowned revolution, wherein he himself would act a principal part. But the governor whose imagination was not quite so warm and prolific, went directly to the ambassador, whom he informed of his pupil's situation, and besought to interpose with the French ministry, that he and the other British subject might obtain their liberty.
This passionate speech, delivered with intense emotion and agitation, offended Jolter so much that he stormed off to his room without saying a word. Meanwhile, the republican returned to his place, fully hopeful that his predictions about the deaths and destruction of Peregrine and the painter would come true, leading to a major revolution where he could play a key role. However, the governor, whose imagination wasn’t quite as vivid or fertile, went straight to the ambassador. He informed him about his pupil's situation and requested that he intervene with the French government to ensure that he and the other British subject could gain their freedom.
His excellency asked, if Jolter could guess at the cause of his imprisonment, that he might be the better prepared to vindicate or excuse his conduct: but neither he nor Pipes could give the smallest hint of intelligence on that subject; though he furnished himself from Tom's own mouth with a circumstantial account of the manner in which his master had been arrested, as well as of his own behaviour, and the disaster he had received on that occasion. His lordship never doubted that Pickle had brought this calamity upon himself by some unlucky prank he had played at the masquerade; when he understood that the young gentleman had drunk freely in the afternoon, and been so whimsical as to go thither with a man in woman's apparel; and he that same day waited on the French minister, in full confidence of obtaining his discharge; but met with more difficulty than he expected, the court of France being extremely punctilious in everything that concerns a prince of the blood: the ambassador was therefore obliged to talk in very high terms; and, though the present circumstances of the French politics would not allow them to fall out with the British administration for trifles, all the favour he could procure was to promise that Pickle should be set at liberty, provided he would ask pardon of the prince to whom he had given offence.
His excellency asked if Jolter could guess the reason for his imprisonment so he could better prepare to defend or explain his actions. However, neither he nor Pipes could offer any insight on that topic. He did, however, get a detailed account from Tom about how his master had been arrested, along with his own behavior and the trouble he had faced that day. His lordship never doubted that Pickle had brought this trouble upon himself due to some foolish stunt he pulled at the masquerade. He learned that the young man had drunk quite a bit in the afternoon and had been so whimsical as to attend with a man dressed as a woman. That same day, he visited the French minister, confident that he would secure his release, but faced more challenges than he expected; the French court is very particular about matters concerning a prince of the blood. The ambassador therefore had to speak very authoritatively, and although the current state of French politics wouldn't allow them to quarrel with the British government over trivial matters, all he could manage was to promise that Pickle would be freed if he apologized to the prince he had offended.
His excellency thought this was but a reasonable condescension, supposing Peregrine to have been in the wrong; and Jolter was admitted to him in order to communicate and reinforce his lordship's advice, which was, that he comply with the terms proposed. The governor, who did not enter this gloomy fortress without fear and trembling, found his pupil in a dismal apartment, void of all furniture but a stool and a truckle-bed. The moment he was admitted, he perceived the youth whistling with great unconcern, and working with his pencil at the bare wall, on which he had delineated a ludicrous figure labelled with the name of the nobleman, whom he had affronted, and an English mastiff with his leg lifted up, in the attitude of making water in his shoe. He had been even so presumptuous as to explain the device with satirical inscriptions in the French language, which, when Jolter perused, his hair stood on end with affright. The very turnkey was confounded and overawed by the boldness of his behaviour, which he had never seen matched by any inhabitant of that place; and actually joined his friend in persuading him to submit to the easy demand of the minister. But our hero, far from embracing the counsel of this advocate, handed him to the door with great ceremony, and dismissed him with a kick on the breeches; and, to all the supplications, and even tears of Jolter, made no other reply than that he would stoop to no condescension, because he had committed no crime, but would leave his case to the cognisance and exertion of the British court, whose duty it was to see justice done to its own subjects: he desired, however, that Pallet, who was confined in another place, might avail himself of his own disposition, which was sufficiently pliable; but when the governor desired to see his fellow-prisoner, the turnkey gave him to understand that he had received no orders relating to the lady, and therefore could not admit him into her apartment; though he was complaisant enough to tell him that she seemed very much mortified at her confinement, and at certain times behaved as if her brain was not a little disordered.
His excellency thought this was a reasonable compromise, assuming Peregrine was in the wrong; so Jolter was allowed to see him to communicate and reinforce his lordship's advice, which was that he should agree to the proposed terms. The governor, who entered this gloomy fortress with a sense of dread, found his pupil in a dreary room, empty except for a stool and a small bed. As soon as he was let in, he noticed the young man whistling casually and sketching on the bare wall, where he had drawn a funny figure labeled with the name of the nobleman he had insulted, alongside an English mastiff lifting its leg as if to relieve itself on the nobleman's shoe. He had even had the audacity to explain the drawing with satirical captions in French, which made Jolter's hair stand on end with fear when he read them. Even the jailer was shocked and intimidated by the boldness of his actions, something he had never seen from any previous inmate; he even joined his friend in trying to persuade him to comply with the minister's easy request. But our hero, far from accepting this advocate's advice, ceremoniously ushered him to the door and dismissed him with a kick to the backside. To all of Jolter's pleas, and even tears, he responded only with that he would not lower himself because he had committed no crime, and would leave his case to the British court, which had the responsibility to ensure justice for its own citizens. However, he requested that Pallet, who was in a different location, could make use of his own agreeable nature. But when the governor asked to see his fellow prisoner, the jailer informed him that he had received no orders regarding the lady, so he could not allow him into her room; however, he was polite enough to mention that she appeared quite upset about her confinement and at times acted as if her mind was a bit unhinged.
Jolter, thus baffled in all his endeavours, quitted the Bastille with a heavy heart, and reported his fruitless negotiation to the ambassador, who could not help breaking forth into some acrimonious expressions against the obstinacy and insolence of the young man, who, he said, deserved to suffer for his folly. Nevertheless, he did not desist from his representations to the French ministry, which he found so unyielding, that he was obliged to threaten, in plain terms, to make it a national concern; and not only wrote to his court for instructions, but even advised the council to make reprisals, and send some French gentleman in London to the Tower.
Jolter, completely frustrated in all his efforts, left the Bastille with a heavy heart and reported his unsuccessful negotiations to the ambassador, who couldn’t help but express some harsh words about the stubbornness and arrogance of the young man, claiming he deserved to suffer for his foolishness. However, he didn’t stop his appeals to the French government, which he found so inflexible that he was forced to threaten, outright, to elevate the matter to a national issue. He not only wrote to his government for guidance but also suggested to the council to take action and send a French gentleman to the Tower in London.
This intimation had an effect upon the ministry at Versailles, who, rather than run the risk of incensing a people whom it was neither their interest nor inclination to disoblige, consented to discharge the offenders, on condition that they should leave Paris in three days after their enlargement. This proposal was readily agreed to by Peregrine, who was now a little more tractable, and heartily tired of being cooped up in such an uncomfortable abode, for the space of three long days, without any sort of communication or entertainment but that which his own imagination suggested.
This suggestion impacted the government at Versailles, who, rather than risk angering a population they didn’t want to upset, agreed to release the offenders, provided they left Paris within three days of their release. Peregrine readily accepted this offer, as he was now somewhat more agreeable and completely tired of being trapped in such an uncomfortable place for three long days, with no communication or entertainment other than what his own imagination could come up with.
CHAPTER XLVII.
Peregrine makes himself Merry at the Expense of the Painter, who curses his Landlady, and breaks with the Doctor.
Peregrine enjoys himself at the Painter's expense, who ends up cursing his landlady and cutting ties with the Doctor.
As he could easily conceive the situation of his companion in adversity, he was unwilling to leave the place until he had reaped some diversion from his distress, and with that view repaired to the dungeon of the afflicted painter, to which he had by this time free access. When he entered, the first object that presented itself to his eye was so uncommonly ridiculous, that he could scarce preserve that gravity of countenance which he had affected in order to execute the joke he had planned. The forlorn Pallet sat upright in his bed in a deshabille that was altogether extraordinary. He had laid aside his monstrous hoop, together with his stays, gown, and petticoat, wrapped his lappets about his head by way of nightcap, and wore his domino as a loose morning-dress; his grizzled locks hung down about his lack-lustre eyes and tawny neck, in all the disorder of negligence; his gray beard bristled about half-an-inch through the remains of the paint with which his visage had been bedaubed, and every feature of his face was lengthened to the most ridiculous expression of grief and dismay.
As he easily imagined what his friend was going through, he didn’t want to leave until he could enjoy some amusement from his suffering. With that in mind, he went to visit the dungeon of the troubled painter, to which he now had free access. When he entered, the first thing that caught his eye was so absurdly funny that he could barely keep a straight face, which he had been trying to maintain for the joke he had planned. The miserable Pallet sat upright in his bed in a completely outrageous outfit. He had taken off his huge hoop skirt, along with his corset, gown, and petticoat, wrapped his nightcap around his head with his lapels, and was wearing his domino as a loose morning robe; his unkempt gray hair hung around his dull eyes and tanned neck in complete disarray, his gray beard sticking out about half an inch through the remnants of the paint that had coated his face, and every feature of his expression was exaggerated into the most ridiculous look of sorrow and shock.
Seeing Peregrine come in, he started up in a sort of frantic ecstasy, and, running towards him with open arms, no sooner perceived the woeful appearance into which our hero had modelled his physiognomy, than he stopped short all of a sudden, and the joy which had begun to take possession of his heart was in a moment dispelled by the most rueful presages; so that he stood in a most ludicrous posture of dejection, like a malefactor at the Old Bailey, when sentence is about to be pronounced. Pickle, taking him by the hand, heaved a profound sigh; and after having protested that he was extremely mortified at being pitched upon as the messenger of bad news, told him, with an air of sympathy and infinite concern, that the French court, having discovered his sex, had resolved, in consideration of the outrageous indignity he offered in public to a prince of the blood, to detain him in the Bastille a prisoner for life; and that this sentence was a mitigation obtained by the importunities of the British ambassador, the punishment ordained by law being no other than breaking alive upon the wheel.
Seeing Peregrine walk in, he jumped up in a sort of frantic excitement and, running toward him with open arms, as soon as he noticed the terrible look on our hero's face, he suddenly stopped. The joy that had started to fill his heart vanished in an instant, replaced by the most sorrowful predictions. He stood there in a hilariously dejected stance, like a criminal at the Old Bailey just before sentencing. Pickle took his hand and sighed deeply; and after saying he was really upset to be the bearer of bad news, he told him, with a sympathetic air and deep concern, that the French court, having discovered his true identity, had decided to keep him in the Bastille as a prisoner for life due to the outrageous insult he had inflicted on a prince of the royal family. This sentence was actually a lighter punishment obtained through the pleas of the British ambassador, as the legal punishment was originally to be broken alive on the wheel.
These tidings aggravated the horrors of the painter to such a degree that he roared aloud, and skipped about the room in all the extravagance of distraction, taking God and man to witness, that he would rather suffer immediate death than endure one year's imprisonment in such a hideous place; and cursing the hour of his birth, and the moment on which he departed from his own country. “For my own part,” said his tormentor, in a hypocritical tone, “I was obliged to swallow the bitter pill of making submission to the prince, who, as I had not presumed to strike him, received acknowledgments, in consequence of which I shall be this day set at liberty; and there is even one expedient left for the recovery of your freedom—it is, I own, a disagreeable remedy, but one had better undergo a little mortification than be for ever wretched. Besides, upon second thoughts, I begin to imagine that you will not for such a trifle sacrifice yourself to the unceasing horrors of a dungeon; especially as your condescension will in all probability be attended with advantages which you could not otherwise enjoy.” Pallet, interrupting him with great eagerness, begged for the love of God that he would no longer keep him in the torture of suspense, but mention that same remedy, which he was resolved to follow, let it be ever so unpalatable.
These news drove the painter into such a frenzy that he yelled loudly and jumped around the room in a wild state of distraction, declaring to God and everyone that he would rather die on the spot than spend even a year in such a dreadful place. He cursed the day he was born and the moment he left his homeland. “As for me,” said his tormentor, with a fake tone of sympathy, “I had to swallow the bitter pill of submitting to the prince, who, since I didn’t dare to strike him, accepted my acknowledgment. Because of that, I’ll be set free today; and there’s even one option left for you to regain your freedom—it’s not a pleasant one, but it’s better to endure a little discomfort than to be forever miserable. Besides, thinking it over, I doubt you would sacrifice yourself to the never-ending horrors of a dungeon for something so trivial; especially since your willingness to submit would likely bring you benefits you wouldn’t get otherwise.” Pallet, interrupting him eagerly, pleaded for the love of God that he would stop torturing him with suspense and just mention that remedy, which he was determined to follow, no matter how unpleasant it might be.
Peregrine, having thus played upon his passions of fear and hope, answered, “that as the offence was committed in the habit of a woman, which was a disguise unworthy of the other sex, the French court was of opinion that the delinquent should be reduced to the neuter gender; so that there was no alternative at his own option, by which he had it in his power to regain immediate freedom.”—“What!” cried the painter, in despair, “become a singer? Gadzooks! and the devil and all that! I'll rather be still where I am, and let myself be devoured by vermin.” Then thrusting out his throat—“Here is my windpipe,” said he; “be so good, my dear friend, as to give it a slice or two: if you don't, I shall one of these days be found dangling in my garters. What an unfortunate rascal I am! What a blockhead, and a beast, and a fool, was I to trust myself among such a barbarous ruffian race! Lord forgive you, Mr. Pickle, for having been the immediate cause of my disaster. If you had stood by me from the beginning, according to your promise, I should not have been teased by that coxcomb who has brought me to this pass. And why did I put on this d—d unlucky dress? Lord curse that chattering Jezebel of a landlady, who advised such a preposterous disguise!—a disguise which has not only brought me to this pass, but also rendered me abominable to myself, and frightful to others; for when I this morning signified to the turnkey that I wanted to be shaved, he looked at my beard with astonishment, and, crossing himself, muttered his Pater Noster, believing me, I suppose, to be a witch, or something worse. And Heaven confound that loathsome banquet of the ancients, which provoked me to drink too freely, that I might wash away the taste of that accursed sillikicaby.”
Peregrine, having thus tapped into his feelings of fear and hope, replied, “since the offense was committed while disguised as a woman, a disguise unworthy of the other sex, the French court believes that the offender should be considered neuter; therefore, there’s no option left for him to regain immediate freedom.” “What!” shouted the painter, in despair, “become a singer? Good grief! No way! I’d rather stay here and let myself be eaten alive by pests.” Then, thrusting out his throat—“Here’s my windpipe,” he said; “please, my dear friend, slice it a bit: if you don’t, I’ll end up hanging in my garters one day. What an unfortunate mess I’m in! What a fool, a beast, and an idiot I was to trust myself among such barbaric thugs! God forgive you, Mr. Pickle, for being the main reason for my downfall. If you had been by my side from the start, like you promised, I wouldn’t have been tormented by that pompous fool who’s led me to this situation. And why did I wear this cursed outfit? Damn that chattering landlady who suggested such a ridiculous disguise! A disguise that has not only brought me to this moment, but has also made me detestable to myself and terrifying to others; because when I asked the guard this morning to shave me, he stared at my beard in shock, crossed himself, and mumbled his prayers, probably thinking I was a witch or something worse. And may heaven curse that disgusting ancient banquet, which made me drink too much to wash away the taste of that dreadful sillikicaby.”
Our young gentleman, having heard this lamentation to an end, excused himself for his conduct by representing that he could not possibly foresee the disagreeable consequences that attended it; and in the mean time strenuously counselled him to submit to the terms of his enlargement. He observed that he was now arrived at that time of life when the lusts of the flesh should be entirely mortified within him, and his greatest concern ought to be the of his soul, to which nothing could more effectually contribute than the amputation which was proposed; that his body, as well as his mind, would profit by the change; because he would have no dangerous appetite to gratify, and no carnal thoughts to divert him from the duties of his profession; and his voice, which was naturally sweet, would improve to such a degree, that he would captivate the ears of all the people of fashion and taste, and in a little time be celebrated under the appellation of the English Senesino.
Our young gentleman, having listened to this complaint until it ended, justified his actions by saying that he couldn't possibly foresee the unpleasant consequences that followed. In the meantime, he strongly advised him to agree to the terms of his release. He noted that he had reached a point in life where the desires of the body should be completely controlled, and his main concern should be for his soul, which could benefit greatly from the proposed procedure. He argued that both his body and mind would gain from the change since he would have no dangerous cravings to satisfy and no distracting thoughts to take him away from his work. Plus, his naturally sweet voice would improve to the point that he would capture the attention of all the fashionable and discerning people, and soon be celebrated as the English Senesino.
These arguments did not fail to make impression upon the painter, who nevertheless started two objections to his compliance; namely, the disgrace of the punishment, and the dread of his wife. Pickle undertook to obviate these difficulties, by assuring him that the sentence would be executed so privately as never to transpire: and that his wife could not be so unconscionable, after so many years of cohabitation, as to take exceptions to an expedient by which she would not only enjoy the conversation of her husband, but even the fruits of those talents which the knife would so remarkably refine.
These arguments definitely made an impression on the painter, who still had two objections to going along with it: the shame of the punishment and his fear of his wife. Pickle stepped in to address these issues by assuring him that the sentence would be carried out so discreetly that it would never come out. He also said that his wife couldn't possibly be unreasonable, after so many years together, to object to a plan that would not only allow her to enjoy her husband's company but also benefit from the skills that the knife would enhance.
Pallet shook his hand at this last remonstrance, as if he thought it would not be altogether convincing to his spouse, but yielded to the proposal, provided her consent could be obtained. Just as he signified this condescension, the jailer entered, and addressing himself to the supposed lady, expressed his satisfaction in having the honour to tell her that she was no longer a prisoner. As the painter did not understand one word of what he said, Peregrine undertook the office of interpreter, and made his friend believe the jailer's speech was no other than an intimation that the ministry had sent a surgeon to execute what was proposed, and that the instruments and dressings were prepared in the next room. Alarmed and terrified at this sudden appointment, he flew to the other end of the room, and, snatching up an earthen chamber-pot, which was the only offensive weapon in the place, put himself in a posture of defence, and with many oaths threatened to try the temper of the barber's skull, if he should presume to set his nose within the apartment.
Pallet waved his hand at this last objection, as if he thought it wouldn’t be fully convincing to his wife, but he agreed to the proposal, as long as he could get her approval. Just as he showed this willingness, the jailer came in and, addressing the supposed lady, expressed his pleasure in informing her that she was no longer a prisoner. Since the painter didn’t understand a word of what he said, Peregrine took on the role of interpreter and made his friend believe the jailer was saying that the authorities had sent a surgeon to carry out what was intended, and that the tools and supplies were ready in the next room. Alarmed and scared by this sudden announcement, he rushed to the other end of the room, grabbed an earthen chamber pot, which was the only weapon available, and took a defensive stance, threatening with many oaths to test the barber’s skull if he dared to set foot inside the room.
The jailer, who little expected such a reception, concluded that the poor gentlewoman had actually lost her wits, and retreated with precipitation, leaving the door open as he went out; upon which Pickle, gathering up the particulars of his dress with great despatch, crammed them into Pallet's arms, and taking notice that now the coast was clear, exhorted him to follow his footsteps to the gate, where a hackney-coach stood for his reception. There being no time for hesitation, the painter took his advice; and, without quitting the utensil, which in his hurry he forgot to lay down, sallied out in the rear of our hero, with all the wildness of terror and impatience which may be reasonably supposed to take possession of a man who flies from perpetual imprisonment. Such was the tumult of his agitation, that his faculty of thinking was for the present utterly overwhelmed, and he saw no object but his conductor, whom he followed by a sort of instinctive impulse, without regarding the keepers and sentinels, who, as he passed with his clothes under one arm, and his chamber-pot brandished above his head, were confounded, and even dismayed, at the strange apparition.
The jailer, who didn’t expect such a reaction, figured that the poor lady had truly lost her mind, and hurriedly retreated, leaving the door open as he exited. Pickle, quickly gathering his clothing, shoved them into Pallet's arms and, noticing the coast was clear, urged him to follow him to the gate where a cab was waiting. With no time to hesitate, the painter took his advice and, forgetting to put down the utensil he was still holding in his rush, dashed out behind our hero, filled with the kind of fear and impatience you'd expect from someone escaping from continuous imprisonment. His agitation was so overwhelming that he couldn’t think clearly and could only see his guide, following him out of instinct, without noticing the guards and sentinels who, as he passed by with his clothes under one arm and his chamber pot raised above his head, were baffled and even shocked by the unusual sight.
During the whole course of this irruption, he ceased nor to cry, with great vociferation, “Drive, coachman, drive, in the name of God!” and the carriage had proceeded the length of a whole street before he manifested the least sign of reflection, but stared like the Gorgon's head, with his mouth wide open, and each particular hair crawling and twining like an animated serpent. At length, however, he began to recover the use of his senses, and asked if Peregrine thought him now out of all danger of being retaken. This unrelenting wag, not yet satisfied with the affliction he imposed upon the sufferer, answered, with an air of doubt and concern, that he hoped they would not be overtaken, and prayed to God they might not be retarded by a stop of carriages. Pallet fervently joined in this supplication; and they advanced a few yards farther, when the noise of a coach at full speed behind them invaded their ears; and Pickle, having looked out of the window, withdrew his head in seeming confusion, and exclaimed, “Lord have mercy upon us! I wish that may not be a guard sent after us. Methinks I saw the muzzle of a fusil sticking out of the coach.” The painter, hearing these tidings, that instant thrust himself half out at the window, with his helmet still in his hand, bellowing to the coachman, as loud as he could roar, “Drive, d— ye, dive to the gates of Jericho and the ends of the earth! Drive, you ragamuffin, you rascallion, you hell-hound! Drive us to the pit Of hell, rather than we should be taken!”
Throughout this entire chaotic situation, he kept shouting at the top of his lungs, “Drive, coachman, drive, for the love of God!” The carriage had already moved down an entire street before he showed any sign of thinking, staring wide-eyed like a Gorgon's head, mouth agape, with his hair crawling and twisting like animated snakes. Eventually, he started to regain his senses and asked Peregrine if he thought they were now out of any danger of being caught again. This unyielding trickster, still not satisfied with the distress he had caused, replied with faux concern that he hoped they wouldn’t be caught and prayed they wouldn’t be delayed by other carriages. Pallet eagerly joined in this prayer; they moved a few more yards when the sound of a carriage racing towards them caught their attention. Pickle, peering out the window, quickly pulled back, looking flustered, and exclaimed, “Lord, have mercy! I hope that isn’t a guard sent after us. I think I saw the muzzle of a gun sticking out of that carriage.” Hearing this news, the painter immediately shoved himself halfway out of the window, helmet still in hand, shouting at the coachman as loudly as he could, “Drive, damn it, drive to the gates of Jericho and the ends of the earth! Drive us to the depths of hell rather than let us be caught!”
Such a phantom could not pass without attracting the curiosity of the people, who ran to their doors and windows, in order to behold this object of admiration. With the same view, that coach, which was supposed to be in pursuit of him, stopped just as the windows of each happened to be opposite; and Pallet, looking behind, and seeing three men standing upon the footboard armed with canes, which his fear converted into fusils, never doubted that his friend's suspicion was just, but, shaking his Jordan at the imaginary guard, swore he would sooner die than part with his precious ware. The owner of the coach, who was a nobleman of the first quality, mistook him for some unhappy woman deprived of her senses: and, ordering his coachman to proceed, convinced the fugitive, to his infinite joy, that this was no more than a false alarm. He was not, for all that, freed from anxiety and trepidation; but our young gentleman, fearing his brain would not bear a repetition of the same joke, permitted him to gain his own lodgings without further molestation.
Such a ghost couldn’t pass by without catching people’s attention, who rushed to their doors and windows to see this object of fascination. With the same intent, the coach that was supposedly chasing him stopped right when it was in front of each window; and Pallet, looking back and seeing three men standing on the footboard armed with canes—which his fear turned into guns—had no doubt that his friend's suspicion was right. However, shaking his fist at the imaginary guard, he swore he would rather die than give up his precious goods. The owner of the coach, a high-ranking nobleman, mistook him for a poor woman who had lost her mind, and after instructing his coachman to move on, he managed to reassure the fugitive, much to his relief, that it was just a false alarm. Still, he wasn’t free from anxiety and fear; but our young gentleman, worried his mind couldn’t handle another scare like that, let him reach his own place without further trouble.
His landlady, meeting him on the stair, was so affected at his appearance, that she screamed aloud, and betook herself to flight; while he, cursing her with greet bitterness, rushed into the apartment to the doctor, who, instead of receiving him with cordial embraces, and congratulating him upon his deliverance, gave evident signs of umbrage and discontent; and even plainly told him, he hoped to have heard that he and Mr. Pickle had acted the glorious part of Cato; an event which would have laid the foundation of such noble struggles, as could not fail to end in happiness and freedom; and that he had already made some progress in an ode that would have immortalised their names, and inspired the flame of liberty in every honest breast. “There,” said he, “I would have proved, that great talents, and high sentiments of liberty, do reciprocally produce and assist each other; and illustrated my assertions with such notes and quotations from the Greek writers, as would have opened the eyes of the most blind and unthinking, and touched the most callous and obdurate heart. 'O fool! to think the man, whose ample mind must grasp whatever yonder stars survey'—Pray, Mr. Pellet, what is your opinion of that image of the mind's grasping the whole universe? For my own part, I can't help thinking it the most happy conception that ever entered my imagination.”
His landlady, running into him on the stairs, was so shocked by his appearance that she screamed and fled. He, cursing her bitterly, rushed into the room to see the doctor, who, instead of welcoming him with warm hugs and congratulating him on his escape, showed clear signs of annoyance and displeasure. He even bluntly said he wished he could have heard that he and Mr. Pickle had played the heroic role of Cato; an outcome that would have laid the groundwork for noble struggles leading to happiness and freedom. He claimed he had already made some progress on an ode that would have immortalized their names and ignited the spirit of liberty in every virtuous heart. “There,” he said, “I would have shown that great talents and a strong sense of liberty inspire and support each other; and illustrated my points with notes and quotes from Greek writers that would have opened the eyes of the most oblivious and touched the coldest heart. 'O fool! to think the man, whose ample mind must grasp whatever yonder stars survey'—So, Mr. Pellet, what do you think of that idea of a mind grasping the entire universe? Personally, I can’t help but think it’s the most brilliant concept that has ever come to my mind.”
The painter, who was not such a flaming enthusiast in the cause of liberty, could not brook the doctor's reflections, which he thought savoured a little too much of indifference and deficiency in point of private friendship; and therefore seized the present opportunity of mortifying his pride, by observing, that the image was, without all doubt, very grand and magnificent; but that he had been obliged for the idea to Mr. Bayes in “The Rehearsal,” who values himself upon the same figure, conveyed in these words, “But all these clouds, when by the eye of reason grasp'd, etc.” Upon any other occasion, the painter would have triumphed greatly upon this detection; but such was the flutter and confusion of his spirits, under the apprehension of being retaken, that, without further communication, he retreated to his own room, in order to resume his own dress, which he hoped would alter his appearance in such a manner as to baffle all search and examination; while the physician remained ashamed and abashed, to find himself convinced of bombast by a person of such contemptible talents. He was offended at this proof of his memory, and so much enraged at his presumption in exhibiting it, that he could never forgive his want of reverence, and took every opportunity of exposing his ignorance and folly in the sequel. Indeed, the ties of private affection were too weak to engage the heart of this republican, whose zeal for the community had entirely swallowed up his concern for individuals. He looked upon particular friendship as a passion unworthy of his ample soul, and was a professed admirer of L. Manlius, Junius Brutus, and those later patriots of the same name, who shut their ears against the cries of nature, and resisted all the dictates of gratitude and humanity.
The painter, who wasn’t really a fervent supporter of freedom, couldn’t stand the doctor’s comments, which he thought showed too much indifference and a lack of personal friendship. So he took this chance to hurt the doctor’s pride by saying that the image was undoubtedly very impressive and grand; however, he had come up with the idea thanks to Mr. Bayes in “The Rehearsal,” who prides himself on the same concept expressed in these words, “But all these clouds, when by the eye of reason grasped, etc.” Under different circumstances, the painter would have reveled in this revelation, but he was so anxious and unsettled about the fear of being caught again that he quickly retreated to his own room to change his outfit, hoping it would change his appearance enough to avoid being recognized. Meanwhile, the doctor felt embarrassed and humiliated, realizing he’d been outdone by someone he considered talentless. He was upset by this reminder of his memory and so infuriated by the painter’s audacity in showing it off that he could never forgive his disrespect, taking every chance to highlight his ignorance and foolishness afterward. In fact, the bonds of personal affection were too weak to sway the heart of this republican, whose passion for the community completely overshadowed his care for individuals. He viewed particular friendship as a sentiment unworthy of his grand spirit and was an open admirer of L. Manlius, Junius Brutus, and other later patriots with the same name, who ignored the cries of nature and defied all feelings of gratitude and humanity.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
Pallet conceives a hearty Contempt for his Fellow-traveller, and attaches himself to Pickle, who, nevertheless, persecutes him with his mischievous Talent upon the Road to Flanders.
Pallet holds a strong contempt for his fellow traveler and sticks close to Pickle, who, nonetheless, annoys him with his prankster skills on the way to Flanders.
In the mean time, his companion, having employed divers pailfuls of water in cleansing himself from the squalor of jail, submitted his face to the barber, tinged his eye-brows with a sable hue, and, being dressed in his own clothes, ventured to visit Peregrine, who was still under the hands of his valet-de-chambre, and who gave him to understand that his escape had been connived at, and that the condition of their deliverance was their departure from Paris in three days.
In the meantime, his friend, after using several bucketfuls of water to wash off the grime of jail, got his face done by the barber, dyed his eyebrows black, and dressed in his own clothes. He decided to visit Peregrine, who was still being attended to by his personal servant. Peregrine let him know that their escape had been planned and that the condition for their freedom was that they leave Paris within three days.
The painter was transported with joy, when he learned that he ran no risk of being retaken, and, far from repining at the terms of his enlargement, would have willingly set out on his return to England that same afternoon; for the Bastille had made such an impression upon him, that he started at the sound of every coach, and turned pale at the sight of a French soldier. In the fulness of his heart, he complained of the doctor's indifference, and related what had passed at their meeting with evident marks of resentment and disrespect; which were not at all diminished, when Jolter informed him of the physician's behaviour when he sent for him, to confer about the means of abridging their confinement. Pickle himself was incensed at his want of bowels; and, perceiving how much he had sank in the opinion of his fellow-traveller, resolved to encourage these sentiments of disgust, and occasionally foment the division to a downright quarrel, which he foresaw would produce some diversion, and perhaps expose the poet's character in such a light, as would effectually punish him for his arrogance and barbarity. With this view, he leveled several satirical jokes at the doctor's pedantry and want of taste, which had appeared so conspicuous in the quotation he had got by heart, from ancient authors; in his affected disdain of the best pictures of the world, which, had he been endowed with the least share of discernment, he could not have beheld with such insensibility; and, lastly, in his ridiculous banquet, which none but an egregious coxcomb, devoid of all elegance and sense, would have prepared, or presented to rational beings. In a word, our young gentleman played the artillery of his wit against him with such success, that the painter seemed to wake from a dream, and went home with the most hearty contempt for the person he had formerly adored.
The painter was overjoyed when he found out that he was no longer at risk of being caught again, and, instead of complaining about the terms of his release, he would have gladly set off back to England that same afternoon. The experience in the Bastille had affected him so deeply that he flinched at the sound of every carriage and turned pale at the sight of a French soldier. Filled with emotion, he voiced his frustration about the doctor's indifference, recounting their meeting with clear signs of resentment and disrespect. This feeling only intensified when Jolter shared how the physician acted when he summoned him to discuss ways to shorten their confinement. Pickle himself was angered by the doctor’s lack of compassion; and noticing how much the doctor had fallen in his fellow traveler’s eyes, he decided to nurture these feelings of disgust and occasionally escalate the tension to a full-blown argument, which he predicted would provide some entertainment and perhaps highlight the poet’s character, effectively punishing him for his arrogance and cruelty. With this in mind, he took aim at the doctor with several sharp jokes about his pretentiousness and lack of taste, particularly evident in his memorized quotes from ancient authors, his affected scorn for the world’s best artworks, which he would not have dismissed so coldly if he had any discernment at all, and, finally, his ridiculous banquet that only an utter fool, lacking all elegance and reason, would have prepared or served to sensible people. In short, our young gentleman unleashed the full force of his wit against him so effectively that the painter seemed to wake from a dream and returned home filled with deep contempt for the person he had once admired.
Instead of using the privilege of a friend, to enter his apartment without ceremony, he sent in his servant with a message, importing, that he intended to set out from Paris the next day, in company with Mr. Pickle; and desiring to know whether or not he was, or would be, prepared for the journey. The doctor, struck with the manner as well as the matter of this intimation, went immediately to Pallet's room and demanded to know the cause of such a sudden determination without his privity or concurrence; and when he understood the necessity of their affairs, rather than travel by himself, he ordered his baggage to be packed up, and signified his readiness to conform to the emergency of the case; though he was not at all pleased with the cavalier behaviour of Pallet, to whom he threw out some hints on his own importance, and the immensity of his condescension in favouring him with such marks of regard. But by this time these insinuations had lost their effect upon the painter who told him, with an arch sneer, that he did not at all question his learning and abilities, and particularly his skill in cookery, which he should never forget while his palate retained its function; but nevertheless advised him, for the sake of the degenerate eaters of these days, to spare a little of his sal ammoniac in the next sillykicaby he should prepare; and abate somewhat of the devil's dung, which he had so plentifully crammed into the roasted fowls, unless he had a mind to convert his guests into patients, with a view of licking himself whole for the expense of the entertainment.
Instead of taking advantage of his friendship to enter the apartment without any formality, he sent his servant with a message, stating that he planned to leave Paris the next day with Mr. Pickle, and wanted to know if he was or would be ready for the trip. The doctor, surprised by both the way and the content of this message, immediately went to Pallet's room and asked why there was such a sudden decision without his knowledge or agreement. When he learned about the urgency of their situation, he decided to pack his things rather than travel alone and expressed his readiness to go along with the plan. However, he was not at all happy with Pallet's casual behavior, and he made some hints about his own importance and how gracious he was to be treated with such regard. By this point, Pallet had become immune to these insinuations; he cheekily responded that he didn't doubt the doctor's knowledge and skills, especially his cooking ability, which he would always remember as long as he could taste. Nevertheless, he advised him, for the sake of today's poor eaters, to go easy on the sal ammoniac in the next silly dish he prepared and to cut back on the excessive amount of the devil's dung he had shoved into the roasted chickens, unless he wanted to turn his guests into patients just to cover his costs for the meal.
The physician, nettled at these sarcasms, eyed him with a look of indignation and disdain; and, being, unwilling to express himself in English, lest, in the course of the altercation, Pallet should be so much irritated as to depart without him, he vented his anger in Greek. The painter, though by the sound he supposed this quotation to be Greek, complimented his friend upon his knowledge in the Welsh language, and found means to rally him quite out of temper; so that he retired to his own chamber in the utmost wrath and mortification, and left his antagonist exulting over the victory he had won.
The doctor, irritated by these sarcastic remarks, looked at him with a mixture of anger and contempt; and, unwilling to speak in English for fear that Pallet would get so upset he would leave without him, he let his frustration out in Greek. The painter, recognizing the quote as Greek by the sound, praised his friend's knowledge of Welsh and managed to annoy him to the point where he stormed off to his own room, filled with rage and humiliation, leaving his rival celebrating the victory he had achieved.
While these things passed between these originals, Peregrine waited upon the ambassador, whom he thanked for his kind interposition, acknowledging the indiscretion of his own conduct with such appearance of conviction and promises of reformation, that his excellency freely forgave him for all the trouble he had been put to on his account, fortified him with sensible advices and, assuring him of his continual favour and friendship, gave him at parting, letters of introduction to several persons of quality belonging to the British court.
While all of this was happening between the original parties, Peregrine waited on the ambassador, thanking him for his kind intervention. He admitted the foolishness of his own behavior with such sincerity and promises to change that the ambassador forgave him completely for the trouble he had caused. He offered him practical advice and assured him of his ongoing support and friendship. When they parted, he gave Peregrine letters of introduction to several notable individuals connected to the British court.
Thus distinguished, our young gentleman took leave of all his French acquaintance, and spent the evening with some of those who had enjoyed the greatest share of his intimacy and confidence; while Jolter superintended his domestic concerns, and with infinite joy bespoke a post-chaise and horse, in order to convey him from a place where he lived in continual apprehension of suffering by the dangerous disposition of his pupil. Everything being adjusted according to their plan, they and their fellow-travellers next day dined together, and about four in the afternoon took their departure in two chaises, escorted by the valet-de-chambre, Pipes, and the doctor's lacquey on horseback, well furnished with arms and ammunition, in case of being attacked by robbers on the road.
So, with that distinction, our young gentleman said goodbye to all his French acquaintances and spent the evening with some of his closest friends; meanwhile, Jolter managed his personal affairs and happily arranged for a carriage and horse to take him away from a place where he was constantly worried about the reckless behavior of his pupil. Once everything was set up according to their plan, they and their fellow travelers had dinner together the next day, and around four in the afternoon, they left in two carriages, accompanied by the valet, Pipes, and the doctor’s servant on horseback, well-equipped with weapons and supplies in case they encountered any robbers on the road.
It was about eleven o'clock at night when they arrived at Senlis, which was the place at which they proposed to lodge, and where they were obliged to knock up the people of the inn, before they could have their supper prepared. All the provision in the house was but barely sufficient to furnish one indifferent meal: however, the painter consoled himself for the quantity with the quality of the dishes, one of which was a fricassee of rabbit, a preparation that he valued above all the dainties that ever smoked upon the table of the sumptuous Heliogabalus.
It was around eleven o'clock at night when they arrived at Senlis, the place where they planned to stay, and they had to wake up the inn's staff before they could get their dinner ready. The food available in the house was just enough to make one mediocre meal; however, the painter comforted himself with the quality of the dishes, one of which was a rabbit fricassee, a dish he valued more than any delicacy that ever graced the table of the extravagant Heliogabalus.
He had no sooner expressed himself to this effect, than our hero, who almost incessantly laying traps for diversion at his neighbour's expense, laid hold on the declaration; and, recollecting the story of Scipio and the muleteer in Gil Blas, resolved to perpetrate a joke upon the stomach of Pallet, which seemed well disposed to a hearty supper. He, accordingly, digested his plan; and the company being seated at table, affected to stare with peculiar eagerness at the painter, who had helped himself to a large portion of the fricassee, and began to swallow it with infinite relish. Pallet, notwithstanding the keenness of his appetite, could not help taking notice of Pickle's demeanour; and, making a short pause in the exercise of his grinders, “You are surprised,” said he, “to see me make so much despatch; but I was extremely hungry, and this is one of the best fricassees I ever tasted: the French are very expert in these dishes, that I must allow; and, upon my conscience, I would never desire to eat a more delicate rabbit than this that lies upon my plate.”
He had barely finished saying this when our hero, who was almost always setting up traps for amusement at his neighbor's cost, seized on the comment. Remembering the story of Scipio and the muleteer from Gil Blas, he decided to play a joke on Pallet, who looked like he was ready for a hearty supper. He then planned out his scheme, and as everyone sat down at the table, he pretended to watch the painter intently, who had taken a big helping of the fricassee and was enjoying it immensely. Pallet, despite his intense hunger, couldn’t help but notice Pickle’s behavior, and pausing briefly from chewing, he said, “You're surprised to see me eating so quickly, but I was really hungry, and this is one of the best fricassees I've ever tasted. The French are really skilled with these dishes, I must say; and honestly, I couldn’t ask for a more delicate rabbit than this one on my plate.”
Peregrine made no other reply to this encomium, than the repetition of the word rabbit, with a note of admiration, and such a significant shake of the head, as effectually alarmed the other, who instantly suspended the action of his jaws, and, with the morsel half chewed in his mouth, stared round him with a certain stolidity of apprehension, which is easier conceived than described; until his eyes encountered the countenance of Thomas Pipes, who, being instructed, and posted opposite to him for the occasion, exhibited an arch grin, that completed the painter's disorder. Afraid of swallowing his mouthful, and ashamed to dispose of it any other way, he sat some time in a most distressed state of suspense; and being questioned by Mr. Jolter touching his calamity, made a violent effort of the muscles of his gullet, which with difficulty performed their office; and then, with great confusion and concern, asked if Mr. Pickle suspected the rabbit's identity. The young gentleman, assuming a mysterious air, pretended ignorance of the matter, observing that he was apt to suspect all dishes of that kind, since he had been informed of the tricks which were commonly played at inns in France, Italy, and Spain; and recounted three passage in Gil Blas, which we have hinted it above, saying, he did not pretend to be a connoisseur in animals, but the legs of the creature which composed that diet which composed the fricassee, did not, in his opinion, resemble those of the rabbits he had usually seen. This observation had an evident effect upon the features of the painter, who, with certain signs of loathing and astonishment, exclaimed, “Lord Jesus!” and appealed to Pipes for the discovery of the truth by asking if he knew anything of the affair. Tom very gravely replied, “he did suppose the food was wholesome enough, for he had seen the skin and feet of a special ram-cat, new flayed, hanging upon the door of a small pantry adjoining to the kitchen.”
Peregrine responded to the compliment with nothing more than the word "rabbit," said with admiration, and a significant shake of his head that alarmed the other man, causing him to stop chewing mid-bite. With the food half-chewed in his mouth, he looked around with a dull sense of worry that’s hard to describe. His gaze landed on Thomas Pipes, who was positioned across from him and had been instructed to be there. Pipes had a sly grin that added to the painter's distress. Not wanting to swallow his bite and too embarrassed to get rid of it another way, he sat in a state of anxious suspense for a while. When Mr. Jolter asked him about his predicament, he made a strenuous effort to swallow, managing it with great difficulty. Then, feeling very embarrassed and concerned, he asked Mr. Pickle if he suspected anything about the rabbit's identity. The young man, taking on an air of mystery, pretended not to know anything, mentioning that he was inclined to be suspicious of dishes like that ever since learning about the tricks often played at inns in France, Italy, and Spain. He then referenced three instances from Gil Blas that we mentioned earlier, saying he wasn't an expert on animals, but in his opinion, the legs of the creature in the fricassee didn’t look like those of the rabbits he usually saw. This comment clearly affected the painter, who, showing signs of disgust and shock, exclaimed, “Lord Jesus!” and turned to Pipes, asking if he knew anything about this. Tom replied seriously that he thought the food was safe to eat since he had seen the skin and feet of a particular ram-cat, newly skinned, hanging on the door of a small pantry next to the kitchen.
Before this sentence was uttered, Pallet's belly seemed to move in contact with his back-bone, his colour changed, no part but the whites of his eyes were to be seen, he dropped his lower jaw, and, fixing his hands in his sides, retched with such convulsive agonies, as amazed and disconcerted the whole company: and what augmented his disorder, was the tenacious retention of the stomach, which absolutely refused to part with its contents, notwithstanding all the energy of his abhorrence, which threw him into a cold sweat, and almost into a swoon.
Before this sentence was spoken, Pallet's stomach felt like it was pressing against his spine, his complexion changed, and only the white of his eyes was visible. He dropped his jaw and, with his hands on his hips, he heaved with such intense agony that it shocked and disturbed everyone around him. What made his condition worse was that his stomach stubbornly refused to let go of its contents, despite his strong feelings of revulsion, which caused him to break out in a cold sweat and nearly faint.
Pickle, alarmed at his condition, assured him it was a genuine rabbit, and that he had tutored Pipes to say otherwise for the joke's sake. But this confession he considered as a friendly artifice of Pickle's compassion, and therefore it had little effect upon his constitution. By the assistance, however, of a large bumper of brandy, his spirits were recruited, and his recollection so far recovered, that he was able to declare, with divers contortions of face, that the dish had a rankness of taste, which he had imparted partly to the nature of the French covey, and partly to the composition of their sauces; then he inveighed against the infamous practices of French publicans, attributing such imposition to their oppressive government, which kept them so necessitous, that they were tempted to exercise all manner of knavery upon their unwary guests.
Pickle, worried about his state, reassured him that it was a real rabbit and that he had taught Pipes to say otherwise just for the joke. However, he saw this confession as a friendly trick of Pickle's kindness and it didn't really change how he felt. Still, with a big glass of brandy, he cheered up, and his memory came back enough for him to say, with various facial expressions, that the dish had an unpleasant taste, which he attributed to both the French bird itself and the way their sauces were made. Then he criticized the shady practices of French tavern owners, blaming their rough conditions on their oppressive government, which made them so desperate that they resorted to all sorts of trickery against their unsuspecting customers.
Jolter, who could not find in his heart to let slip any opportunity of speaking in favour of the French, told him, that he was a very great stranger to their police; else he would know, that if, upon information to the magistrate, it should appear that any traveller, native or foreigner, had been imposed upon or ill-treated by a publican, the offender would be immediately obliged to shut up his house; and, if his behaviour had been notorious, he himself would be sent to the galleys, without the least hesitation: “and as for the dish which has been made the occasion of your present disorder,” said he, “I will take upon me to affirm it was prepared of a genuine rabbit, which was skinned in my presence; and, in confirmation of what I assert, though such fricassees are not the favourites of my taste, I will eat a part of this without scruple.”
Jolter, who couldn't bear to miss any chance to speak well of the French, told him that he wasn't familiar with their police. If he were, he would know that if a magistrate received information showing that any traveler, whether a local or a foreigner, had been wronged or mistreated by a pub owner, that offender would have to close their establishment immediately. If their actions were well-known, they would be sent to prison without any hesitation. “And as for the dish that caused your current issue,” he said, “I can affirm it was made from a real rabbit, which was skinned in front of me. To prove my point, even though I’m not a fan of such fricassees, I will eat part of this without any hesitation.”
So saying, he swallowed several mouthfuls of the questioned coney, and Pallet seemed to eye it again with inclination; nay, he even resumed his knife and fork; and being just on the point of applying them, was seized with another qualm of apprehension, that broke out in an exclamation of, “After all, Mr. Jolter, if it should be a real ram-cat? Lord have mercy upon me! here is one of the claws.” With these words he presented the tip of a toe, of which Pipes had snipped off five or six from a duck that was roasted, and purposely scattered them in the fricassee: and the governor could not behold this testimonial without symptoms of uneasiness and remorse; so that he and the painter sat silenced and abashed, and made faces at each other, while the physician, who hated them both, exulted over their affliction, bidding them be of good cheer, and proceed with their meal; for he was ready to demonstrate, that the flesh of a cat was as nourishing and delicious as veal or mutton, provided they could prove that the said cat was not of the boar kind, and had fed chiefly on vegetable diet, or even confined its carnivorous appetite to rats and mice, which he affirmed to be dainties of exquisite taste and flavour. He said, it was a vulgar mistake to think that all flesh-devouring creatures were unfit to be eaten: witness the consumption of swine and ducks, animals that delight in carnage as well as fish, and prey upon each other, and feed on bait and carrion; together with the demand for bear, of which the best hams in the world are made. He then observed that the negroes on the coast of Guinea, who are healthy and vigorous people, prefer cats and dogs to all other fare; and mentioned from history several sieges, during which the inhabitants, who were blocked up, lived upon these animals, and had recourse even to human flesh, which, to his certain knowledge, was in all respects preferable to pork; for, in the course of his studies, he had, for the experiment's sake, eaten a steak cut from the buttock of a person who had been hanged.
So saying, he took several bites of the questioned rabbit, and Pallet seemed to look at it again with interest; in fact, he even picked up his knife and fork again. Just as he was about to use them, he was hit with another wave of anxiety, which erupted in a shout of, “What if it’s actually a real cat? God have mercy on me! Here’s one of the claws.” With that, he showed the tip of a toe, which Pipes had snipped off five or six from a duck that was roasted, and purposely sprinkled in the stew: and the governor couldn’t bear to see this evidence without showing signs of unease and guilt; so he and the painter sat there in silence and embarrassment, making faces at each other, while the physician, who despised them both, reveled in their discomfort, encouraging them to lighten up and continue with their meal; for he was ready to prove that cat meat was just as nutritious and tasty as veal or mutton, as long as they could confirm that it wasn’t a wild cat and had primarily eaten vegetables, or even limited its meat cravings to rats and mice, which he claimed were delicacies with exquisite taste and flavor. He said it was a common misconception to think that all meat-eating animals were unfit for consumption: look at pigs and ducks, animals that enjoy eating meat as well as fish, and prey on one another, feeding on bait and carrion; not to mention the demand for bear, from which the best hams in the world are made. He then pointed out that the people on the coast of Guinea, who are healthy and strong, prefer cats and dogs over all other food; and he referenced several historical sieges where the trapped inhabitants survived on these animals and even resorted to human flesh, which, according to him, was far superior to pork; for in the course of his studies, he had, for the sake of experimentation, eaten a steak cut from the rear of a person who had been hanged.
This dissertation, far from composing, increased the disquiet in the stomachs of the governor and painter, who, hearing the last illustration, turned their eyes upon the orator, at the same instant, with looks of horror and disgust; and the one muttering the term “cannibal,” and the other pronouncing the word “abomination,” they rose from table in a great hurry, and running towards another apartment, jostled with such violence in the passage, that both were overturned by the shock, which also contributed to the effect of their nausea that mutually defiled them as they lay.
This dissertation, instead of being composed, only heightened the unease in the stomachs of the governor and the painter, who, upon hearing the final illustration, simultaneously turned their horrified and disgusted expressions toward the speaker; one muttering “cannibal” and the other uttering “abomination.” They quickly got up from the table and rushed to another room, colliding so forcefully in the hallway that they both fell over from the impact, which also intensified their nausea as they lay there, mutually affecting each other.
CHAPTER XLIX.
Nor is the Physician sacred from his Ridicule—They reach Arras, where our Adventurer engages in Play with two French Officers, who, next Morning, give the Landlord an interesting Proof of their Importance.
Nor is the Physician safe from his ridicule—they arrive in Arras, where our adventurer plays games with two French officers, who, the next morning, provide the landlord with an intriguing demonstration of their significance.
The doctor remained sullen and dejected during the whole journey: not but that he attempted to recover his importance by haranguing upon the Roman highways, when Mr. Jolter desired the company to take notice of the fine pavement upon which they travelled from Paris into Flanders; but Pallet, who thought he had now gained the ascendency over the physician, exerted himself in maintaining the superiority he had acquired, by venting various sarcasms upon his self-conceit and affectation of learning, and even tittering puns and conundrums upon the remarks which the republican retailed. When he talked of the Flaminian Way, the painter questioned if it was a better pavement than the Fleminian Way on which they travelled: and the doctor having observed, that this road was made for the convenience of drawing the French artillery into Flanders, which was often the seat of war, his competitor in wit replied, with infinite vivacity, “There are more great guns than the French king knows of drawn along this causeway, doctor.”
The doctor stayed gloomy and downcast throughout the entire trip; still, he tried to regain his sense of importance by lecturing about the Roman roads when Mr. Jolter pointed out the nice pavement they were traveling on from Paris to Flanders. But Pallet, thinking he now had the upper hand over the physician, worked hard to maintain the advantage he had gained by making various sarcastic comments about the doctor’s arrogance and pretentiousness regarding his knowledge, even cracking jokes and puns about the remarks that the republican shared. When the doctor mentioned the Flaminian Way, the painter asked if it was better than the Flemish Way they were on. The doctor noted that this road was built to help transport French artillery into Flanders, which was often a war zone; to this, his witty rival replied with great enthusiasm, "There are more big guns than the French king knows about rolling along this road, doctor."
Encouraged by the success of these efforts, which tickled the imagination of Jolter, and drew smiles (as he imagined) of approbation from our hero, he sported in many other equivoques of the same nature; and at dinner, told the physician, that he was like the root of the tongue, as being cursedly down in the mouth.
Encouraged by the success of these efforts, which amused Jolter and, as he thought, earned approving smiles from our hero, he continued to indulge in many other similar wordplays. At dinner, he told the physician that he was like the root of the tongue, since he was always down in the mouth.
By this time, such was the animosity subsisting between these quondam friends, that they never conversed together, except with a view of exposing each other to the ridicule or contempt of their fellow-travellers. The doctor was at great pains to point out the folly and ignorance of Pallet in private to Peregrine, who was often conjured in the same manner by the painter, to take notice of the physician's want of manners and taste. Pickle pretended to acquiesce in the truth of their mutual severity, which, indeed, was extremely just; and by malicious insinuations blew up their contention, with a view of bringing it to open hostility. But both seemed so averse to deeds of mortal purpose, that for a long time his arts were baffled, and he could not spirit them up to any pitch of resentment higher than scurrilous repartee.
By this time, the hostility between these former friends had reached a point where they only spoke to each other to embarrass or belittle one another in front of their fellow travelers. The doctor made a big effort to point out Pallet's foolishness and ignorance privately to Peregrine, who was often urged in the same way by the painter to notice the physician's lack of manners and taste. Pickle pretended to agree with their harsh opinions of each other, which were indeed quite accurate; and with some sly suggestions, he escalated their conflict, hoping to push it into open hostility. But both seemed so reluctant to engage in any serious confrontation that for a long time, his efforts were thwarted, and he couldn’t provoke them to any level of anger beyond sarcastic banter.
Before they reached Arras, the city gates were shut, so that they were obliged to take up their lodgings at an indifferent house in the suburbs, where they found a couple of French officers, who had also rode post from Paris so far on their way to Lisle. These gentlemen were about the age of thirty, and their deportment distinguished by such an air of insolence, as disgusted our hero, who, nevertheless, accosted them politely in the yard, and proposed that they should sup together. They thanked him for the honour of his invitation, which, however, they declined upon pretence of having ordered something for themselves; but promised to wait upon him and his company immediately after their repast.
Before they got to Arras, the city gates were closed, so they had to stay at a mediocre place in the suburbs, where they met a couple of French officers who had also traveled post from Paris on their way to Lisle. These men were around thirty years old, and their behavior had such an air of arrogance that it annoyed our hero, who still approached them politely in the yard and suggested they all have dinner together. They thanked him for the honor of his invitation, but declined on the pretense of having ordered something for themselves; however, they promised to join him and his group right after their meal.
This they accordingly performed; and, after having drunk a few glasses of Burgundy, one of them asked, if the young gentleman would, for pastime, take a hand at quadrille. Peregrine easily divined the meaning of this proposal, which was made with no other view than that of fleecing him and his fellow-travellers; for he well knew to what shifts a subaltern in the French service is reduced, in order to maintain the appearance of a gentleman, and had reason to believe that most of them were sharpers from their youth: but, as he depended a good deal upon his own penetration and address, he gratified the stranger's desire; and a party was instantly formed of the painter, the physician, the proposer, and himself, the other officer having professed himself utterly ignorant of the game; in the course of the play, he took his station at the back of Pickle's chair, which was opposite to his friend, on pretence of amusing himself with seeing his manner of conducting the cards. The youth was not such a novice but that he perceived the design of this palpable piece of behaviour, which, notwithstanding, he overlooked for the present, with a view of flattering their hopes in the beginning, that they might be the more effectually punished by their disappointment in the end.
They went ahead and did just that; after having a few glasses of Burgundy, one of them asked if the young gentleman would like to play a hand of quadrille for fun. Peregrine quickly figured out the real intent behind this offer, which was nothing more than to cheat him and his fellow travelers. He was well aware of the lengths a junior officer in the French service would go to maintain the appearance of a gentleman and had reason to believe that most of them were con artists from a young age. However, trusting in his own sharpness and charm, he agreed to the stranger's request, and a game was quickly organized with the painter, the physician, the proposer, and himself, while the other officer claimed he didn't know anything about the game. During the play, he positioned himself behind Pickle's chair, directly opposite his friend, pretending to entertain himself by watching how he handled the cards. The young man wasn't naive enough to miss the obvious intent behind this behavior, yet he chose to ignore it for now, hoping to boost their expectations initially so that their eventual disappointment would be even more satisfying.
The game was scarce begun, when, by the reflection of a glass, he discerned the officer at his back making signs to his companion, who, by preconcerted gestures, was perfectly informed of the contents of Peregrine's hand, and, of consequence, fortunate in the course of play. Thus they were allowed to enjoy the fruits of their dexterity, until their money amounted to some louis; when our young gentleman, thinking it high time to do himself justice, signified in very polite terms to the gentleman who stood behind him, that he could never play with ease and deliberation when he was overlooked by any bystander, and begged that he would have the goodness to be seated.
The game had just started when, by the reflection in a glass, he noticed the officer behind him making signals to his companion, who, through coordinated gestures, was fully aware of what Peregrine had in his hand and was consequently doing well in the game. They were allowed to enjoy the results of their skill until they had racked up a decent stack of money; at which point, our young gentleman decided it was time to stand up for himself and politely told the gentleman behind him that he could never play comfortably and thoughtfully with someone watching him, and kindly asked if he could take a seat.
As this was a remonstrance which the stranger could not, with any show of breeding, resist, he asked pardon, and retired to the chair of the physician, who frankly told him, that it was not the fashion of his country for one to submit his hand to the perusal of a spectator; and when, in consequence of this rebuff, he wanted to quarter himself upon the painter, he was refused by a wave of the hand, and shake of the head, with an exclamation of pardonnez moi; which was repeated with such emphasis, as discomposed this effrontery; and he found himself obliged to sit down in a state of mortification.
Since this was a complaint the stranger could not, without appearing rude, ignore, he apologized and went to sit in the physician's chair. The physician straightforwardly explained that in his country, it wasn’t customary for someone to let a bystander look at their hand. When the stranger, feeling embarrassed from this rejection, tried to impose on the painter, he was met with a dismissive wave of the hand and a shake of the head, along with a firm “pardon me,” which was repeated with such intensity that it unsettled the stranger’s boldness, leaving him no choice but to take a seat in shame.
The odds being thus removed, fortune proceeded in her usual channel; and though the Frenchman, deprived of his ally, endeavoured to practise divers strokes of finesse, the rest of the company observed him with such vigilance and caution, as baffled all his attempts, and in a very little time he was compelled to part with his winning: but, having engaged in the match with an intention of taking all advantages, whether fair or unfair, that his superior skill should give him over the Englishman, the money was not refunded without a thousand disputes, in the course of which he essayed to intimidate his antagonist with high words, which were retorted by our hero with such interest as convinced him that he had mistaken his man, and persuaded him to make his retreat in quiet. Indeed, it was not without cause that they repined at the bad success of their enterprise; because, in all likelihood, they had nothing to depend upon for the present but their own industry, and knew not how to defray their expenses on the road, except by some acquisition of this kind.
With the odds now gone, fortune went back to its usual ways; and although the Frenchman, without his ally, tried to use various tricks, the rest of the group kept a close eye on him, which foiled all his efforts. Before long, he was forced to part with his winnings. However, since he had entered the match intending to take any advantage—fair or unfair—his greater skill offered him over the Englishman, he didn’t get his money back without a thousand arguments. During these disputes, he tried to intimidate his opponent with loud words, which our hero countered in a way that made him realize he had picked the wrong person to mess with, prompting him to leave quietly. Indeed, they had good reason to be frustrated with the failure of their plan because, as it turned out, they had nothing to rely on at that moment except their own efforts and didn’t know how to cover their travel expenses, except through some win like this.
Next morning they rose at daybreak, and resolving to anticipate their fellow-lodgers, bespoke post-horses as soon as they could be admitted into the city; so that, when our company appeared, their beasts were ready in the yard, and they only waited to discuss the bill, which they had ordered to be made out. The landlord of the inn presented his carte with fear and trembling to one of those ferocious cavaliers, who no sooner cast his eye upon the sum total, than he discharged a volley of dreadful oaths, and asked if the king's officers were to be treated in that manner? The poor publican protested, with great humility, that he had the utmost respect for his majesty, and everything that belonged to him; and that, far from consulting his own interest, all that he desired was, to be barely indemnified for the expense of their lodging.
The next morning, they got up at dawn and decided to beat their fellow travelers to the punch by ordering post-horses as soon as they could get into the city. So, when their group showed up, the horses were ready in the yard, and they just needed to settle the bill, which they had asked to be prepared. The innkeeper presented his bill with trepidation to one of those intimidating guests, who, as soon as he saw the total, unleashed a torrent of horrifying curses and demanded to know if the king's officers were going to be treated this way. The poor innkeeper humbly insisted that he had the utmost respect for his majesty and everything related to him, and that, rather than looking out for himself, all he wanted was to be fairly compensated for the cost of their stay.
This condescension seemed to have no other effect than that of encouraging their arrogance. They swore his extortion should be explained to the commandant of the town, who would, by making him a public example, teach other innkeepers how to behave towards men of honour; and threatened with such confidence of indignation, that the wretched landlord, dreading the consequence of their wrath, implored pardon in the most abject manner, begging, with many supplications, that he might have the pleasure of lodging them at his own charge. This was a favour which he with great difficulty obtained: they chid him severely for his imposition; exhorted him to have more regard for his own conscience, as well as to the convenience of his guests; and, cautioning him in particular touching his behaviour to the gentlemen of the army, mounted their horses, and rode off in great state, leaving him very thankful for having so successfully appeased the choler of two officers, who wanted either inclination or ability to pay their bill; for experience had taught him to be apprehensive of all such travellers, who commonly lay the landlord under contribution, by way of atonement for the extravagance of his demands, even after he has professed his willingness to entertain them on their own terms.
This condescension only seemed to boost their arrogance. They declared that his extortion would be reported to the town commandant, who would make an example of him to teach other innkeepers how to treat honorable men. They threatened him with such confident indignation that the poor landlord, fearing the consequences of their anger, begged for forgiveness in the most submissive way, pleading earnestly to have the pleasure of hosting them at his own expense. This was a favor he managed to secure with great difficulty: they scolded him harshly for his dishonesty; urged him to be more mindful of his conscience as well as his guests' comfort; and specifically warned him about how he should treat the gentlemen of the army, before mounting their horses and riding off in grand style, leaving him very grateful for having successfully calmed the anger of two officers who had either no desire or ability to pay their bill. Experience had taught him to be wary of such travelers, who typically made the landlord pay for it by way of reparation for any excessive demands, even after he had claimed he was willing to serve them on their own terms.
CHAPTER L.
Peregrine moralizes upon their Behaviour, which is condemned by the Doctor, and defended by the Governor—They arrive in safety at Lisle, dine at an Ordinary, visit the Citadel—The Physician quarrels with a North Briton, who is put in Arrest.
Peregrine reflects on their behavior, which the Doctor criticizes and the Governor defends. They safely arrive in Lisle, have lunch at a local eatery, and visit the Citadel. The Physician gets into a quarrel with a North Briton, who is then arrested.
These honourable adventurers being gone, Peregrine, who was present during the transaction, informed himself of the particulars from the mouth of the innkeeper himself, who took Heaven and the saints to witness, that he should have been a loser by their custom, even if the bill had been paid: because he was on his guard against their objections, and had charged every article at an under price: but such was the authority of officers in France, that he durst not dispute the least circumstance of their will; for, had the case come under the cognizance of the magistrate, he must, in course, have suffered by the maxims of their government, which never fail to abet the oppression of the army; and, besides, run the risk of incurring their future resentment, which would be sufficient to ruin him from top to bottom.
After those respectable adventurers left, Peregrine, who witnessed the whole thing, got the details straight from the innkeeper himself. The innkeeper swore on Heaven and the saints that he would have lost money off their business even if they had paid the bill, because he was already cautious about their complaints and had priced everything lower than usual. However, the power of officers in France was so great that he couldn't challenge any aspect of their demands; if the matter had gone to the magistrate, he would have definitely suffered under the government’s rules, which always support the army's oppression. Plus, he would risk their future anger, which could completely ruin him.
Our hero boiled with indignation at this instance of injustice and arbitrary power; and, turning to his governor, asked, if this too was a proof of the happiness enjoyed by the French people. Jolter replied, that every human constitution must, in some things, be imperfect and owned, that in this kingdom, gentlemen were more countenanced than the vulgar, because it was to be presumed that their own sentiments of honour and superior qualifications would entitle them to this pre-eminence, which had also a retrospective view to the merit of their ancestors, in consideration of which they were at first ennobled; but he affirmed, that the innkeeper had misrepresented the magistracy, which, in France, never failed to punish flagrant outrages and abuse, without respect of persons.
Our hero seethed with anger at this example of injustice and abuse of power; and, turning to his governor, asked if this was also a sign of the happiness experienced by the French people. Jolter replied that every human system must have its imperfections and admitted that in this kingdom, gentlemen received more support than common people, because it was assumed that their own sense of honor and superior skills justified their higher status, which also reflected the achievements of their ancestors, for which they were originally honored; but he insisted that the innkeeper had misrepresented the justice system, which in France always made sure to punish serious offenses and abuses, regardless of who committed them.
The painter approved of the wisdom of the French government, in bridling the insolence of the mob, by which, he assured them, he had often suffered in his own person; having been often bespattered by hackney-coachmen, jostled by draymen and porters, and reviled in the most opprobrious terms by the watermen of London, where he had once lost his bag and a considerable quantity of hair, which had been cut off by some rascal in his passage through Ludgate, during the Lord Mayor's procession. On the other hand, the doctor with great warmth alleged, that those officers ought to suffer death, or banishment at least, for having plundered the people in this manner, which was so impudent and barefaced, as plainly to prove they were certain of escaping with impunity, and that they were old offenders in the same degree of delinquency. He said, that the greatest man in Athens would have been condemned to perpetual exile, and seen his estate confiscated for public use, had he dared in such a licentious manner to violate the rights of a fellow-citizen; and as for the little affronts to which a man may be subject from the petulance of the multitude, he looked upon them as glorious indications of liberty, which ought not to be repressed, and would at any time rejoice to find himself overthrown in a kennel by the insolence of a son of freedom, even though the fall should cost him a limb; adding, by way of illustration, that the greatest pleasure he ever enjoyed was in seeing a dustman wilfully overturn a gentleman's coach, in which two ladies were bruised, even to the danger of their lives. Pallet, shocked at the extravagance of this declaration, “If that be the case,” said he, “I wish you may see every bone in your body broke by the first carman you meet in the streets of London.”
The painter agreed with the wisdom of the French government in controlling the arrogance of the mob, which he told them he had often experienced personally; he had often been splattered by cab drivers, bumped into by delivery men and porters, and insulted in the most disgraceful ways by the watermen of London. He had once lost his bag and a significant amount of hair that had been cut off by some jerk while passing through Ludgate during the Lord Mayor's procession. On the other hand, the doctor passionately argued that those officials should face death or at least banishment for robbing the people in such an shameless and blatant way, clearly showing they believed they could get away with it and that they were habitual offenders. He said that even the greatest man in Athens would have been condemned to lifelong exile and had his property confiscated for public use if he had dared to violate a fellow citizen's rights in such a reckless manner; as for the minor insults one might face from the rudeness of the crowd, he considered them to be glorious signs of freedom that should not be stifled, and he would gladly accept being knocked into a gutter by the arrogance of a free citizen, even if it cost him a limb. He illustrated his point by saying that the greatest joy he ever felt came from watching a garbage collector purposely tip over a gentleman's carriage, which resulted in two ladies being injured, even to the point of endangering their lives. Pallet, stunned by the outrageousness of this statement, replied, “If that’s the case, I hope you get every bone in your body broken by the first driver you encounter in the streets of London.”
This argument being discussed, and the reckoning discharged without any deduction, although the landlord, in stating the articles, had an eye to the loss he had sustained by his own countrymen, they departed from Arras, and arrived in safety at Lisle, about two o'clock in the afternoon.
This argument was discussed, and the account settled without any deductions, even though the landlord, in listing the items, was aware of the loss he had incurred due to his fellow countrymen. They left Arras and safely arrived in Lisle around two o'clock in the afternoon.
They had scarce taken possession of their lodgings, in a large hotel in the Grande Place, when the innkeeper gave them to understand, that he kept an ordinary below, which was frequented by several English gentlemen who resided in town, and that dinner was then set upon the table. Peregrine, who seized all opportunities of observing new characters, persuaded his company to dine in public; and they were accordingly conducted to the place, where they found a mixture of Scotch and Dutch officers, who had come from Holland to learn their exercises at the academy, and some gentlemen in the French service, who were upon garrison duty in the citadel. Among these last was a person about the age of fifty, of a remarkably genteel air and polite address, dignified with a Maltese cross, and distinguished by the particular veneration of all those who knew him. When he understood that Pickle and his friends were travellers, he accosted the youth in English, which he spoke tolerably well; and, as they were strangers, offered to attend them in the afternoon to all the places worth seeing in Lisle. Our hero thanked him for his excess of politeness, which, he said, was peculiar to the French nation; and, struck with his engaging appearance, industriously courted his conversation, in the course of which he learned that this chevalier was a man of good sense and great experience, that he was perfectly well acquainted with the greatest part of Europe, had lived some years in England, and was no stranger to the constitution and genius of that people.
They had barely settled into their rooms at a large hotel in the Grande Place when the innkeeper informed them that he had a dining area below, frequented by several English gentlemen living in town, and that dinner was ready. Peregrine, who was always eager to observe new characters, convinced his companions to dine in public, and they were taken to the dining area, where they encountered a mix of Scottish and Dutch officers who had come from Holland to train at the academy, along with some gentlemen in the French service on garrison duty at the citadel. Among the latter was a man around fifty years old, with a notably stylish demeanor and polite manner, adorned with a Maltese cross, and held in high regard by everyone who knew him. When he learned that Pickle and his friends were travelers, he greeted the young man in English, which he spoke fairly well; since they were strangers, he offered to show them around in the afternoon to all the sights worth seeing in Lisle. Our hero thanked him for his kindness, which he noted was characteristic of the French, and, captivated by his charming presence, actively engaged him in conversation, during which he discovered that this chevalier was sensible and experienced, well-acquainted with much of Europe, had spent several years in England, and understood the constitution and character of its people.
Having dined, and drunk to the healths of the English and French kings, two fiacres were called, in one of which the knight, with one of his companions, the governor, and Peregrine seated themselves, the other being occupied by the physician, Pallet, and two Scottish officers, who proposed to accompany them in their circuit. The first place they visited was the citadel, round the ramparts of which they walked, under the conduct of the knight, who explained with great accuracy the intention of every particular fortification belonging to that seemingly impregnable fortress; and, when they had satisfied their curiosity, took coach again, in order to view the arsenal, which stands in another quarter of the town; but, just as Pickle's carriage had crossed the promenade, he heard his own name bawled aloud by the painter; and, ordering the fiacre to stop, saw Pallet, with one half of his body thrust out at the window of the other coach, crying, with a terrified look, “Mr. Pickle, Mr. Pickle, the for the love of God halt, and prevent bloodshed, else here will be carnage and cutting of throats.” Peregrine, surprised at this exclamation, immediately alighted, and, advancing to the other vehicle, found one of their military companions standing upon the ground, at the farther side of the coach, with his sword drawn, and fury in his countenance; and the physician, with a quivering lip, and haggard aspect, struggling with the other, who had interposed in the quarrel, and detained him in his place.
Having finished their meal and toasted to the health of the English and French kings, two taxis were called. In one, the knight, along with one of his companions, the governor, and Peregrine, got in, while the other taxi was occupied by the physician, Pallet, and two Scottish officers who planned to join them on their round. Their first stop was the citadel, where they walked along the ramparts under the knight's guidance. He accurately explained the purpose of each fortification of the seemingly impenetrable fortress. After they had satisfied their curiosity, they took another taxi to visit the arsenal located in another part of the town. Just as Pickle's carriage crossed the promenade, he heard his name called loudly by the painter. He ordered the taxi to stop and saw Pallet, half his body sticking out of the window of the other taxi, looking terrified and shouting, “Mr. Pickle, Mr. Pickle, for the love of God stop, or there will be bloodshed, and someone will end up getting hurt.” Surprised by this outburst, Peregrine quickly got out and approached the other vehicle, where one of their military companions stood on the ground beside the coach, sword drawn and a furious expression on his face, while the physician, looking pale and anxious, was struggling with another person who had intervened in the fight and was holding him back.
Our young gentleman, upon inquiry, found that this animosity had sprung from a dispute that happened upon the ramparts, touching the strength of the fortification, which the doctor, according to custom, undervalued, because it was a modern work; saying, that by the help of the military engines used among the ancients, and a few thousands of pioneers, he would engage to take it in less than ten days after he should sit down before it. The North Briton, who was as great a pedant as the physician, having studied fortification, and made himself master of Caesar's Commentaries and Polybius, with the observations of Folard, affirmed, that all the methods of besieging practised by the ancients would be utterly ineffectual against such a plan as that of the citadel of Lisle; and began to compare the vineae, aggeres, arietes, scorpiones, and catapultae of the Romans, with the trenches, mines, batteries, and mortars used in the present art of war. The republican, finding himself attacked upon what he thought his strong side, summoned all his learning to his aid; and, describing the famous siege of Plateae, happened to misquote a passage of Thucydides, in which he was corrected by the other, who, having been educated for the church, was also a connoisseur in the Greek language. The doctor, incensed at being detected in such a blunder in the presence of Pallet, who, he knew, would promulgate his shame, told the officer, with great arrogance, that his objection was frivolous, and that he must not pretend to dispute on these matters with one who had considered them with the utmost accuracy and care. His antagonist, piqued at this supercilious insinuation, replied with great heat, that for aught he knew, the doctor might be a very expert apothecary, but that in the art of war, and knowledge of the Greek tongue, he was no other than an ignorant pretender.
Our young gentleman, upon asking around, discovered that this hostility had come from a disagreement that took place on the ramparts regarding the strength of the fortifications. The doctor, as usual, dismissed their value because it was a modern construction, claiming that with the aid of the military engines used by the ancients and a few thousand laborers, he could take it in less than ten days once he laid siege. The North Briton, as much a know-it-all as the physician, having studied fortifications and mastered Caesar's Commentaries and Polybius, along with Folard's notes, insisted that all the ancient siege methods would be completely ineffective against the plan of the citadel of Lisle. He began comparing the Romans' vineae, aggeres, arietes, scorpiones, and catapultae with the trenches, mines, batteries, and mortars used in the modern art of war. The republican, feeling attacked on what he believed was his strong ground, summoned all his knowledge for support. While describing the famous siege of Plateae, he misquoted a passage from Thucydides, which the other corrected. Having been educated for the church, he was also knowledgeable in Greek. The doctor, angry about being caught in such a mistake in front of Pallet, who he knew would spread his embarrassment, told the officer, with great arrogance, that his objection was trivial and that he shouldn't pretend to debate these issues with someone who had examined them with utmost precision and care. His opponent, irritated by this condescending remark, retorted heatedly that, as far as he knew, the doctor might be a skilled apothecary, but in the art of war and knowledge of the Greek language, he was nothing more than an ignorant fraud.
This asseveration produced an answer full of virulence, including a national reflection upon the soldier's country; and the contention rose to mutual abuse, when it was suppressed by the admonitions of the other two, who begged they would not expose themselves in a strange place, but behave themselves like fellow-subjects and friends. They accordingly ceased reviling each other, and the affair was seemingly forgot; but after they had resumed their places in the coach, the painter unfortunately asked the meaning of the word tortise, which he had heard them mention among the Roman implements of war. This question was answered by the physician, who described the nature of this expedient so little to the satisfaction of the officer, that he contradicted him flatly in the midst of his explanation; a circumstance which provoked the republican to such a degree, that, in the temerity of his passion, he uttered the epithet, “impertinent scoundrel;” which was no sooner pronounced than the Caledonian made manual application to his nose, and, leaping out of the coach, stood waiting for him on the plain; while he, the physician, made feeble efforts to join him, being easily retained by the other soldier; and Pallet, dreading the consequence in which he himself might be involved, bellowed aloud for prevention.
This statement led to a harsh response, causing a national reflection about the soldier's country. The argument escalated into mutual insults until the other two intervened, urging them not to make fools of themselves in an unfamiliar place and to act like fellow citizens and friends. They stopped insulting each other, and it seemed like the matter was forgotten. However, after they settled back into their seats in the coach, the painter accidentally asked what the word "tortise" meant; he had heard it mentioned among the Roman weapons of war. The physician responded, but his explanation didn't satisfy the officer, who interrupted him flatly in the middle of his description. This provoked the republican to such an extent that, in a fit of rage, he called him an “impertinent scoundrel.” The moment those words were out, the Caledonian struck him in the face and jumped out of the coach, waiting for him on the ground. The physician tried weakly to follow, but was easily held back by the other soldier. Pallet, fearing the trouble he might get into, shouted loudly for intervention.
Our hero endeavoured to quiet the commotion by representing to the Scot that he had already taken satisfaction for the injury he had received, and telling the doctor that he had deserved the chastisement which was inflicted upon him; but the officer, encouraged perhaps by the confusion of his antagonist, insisted upon his asking pardon for what he had said; and the doctor, believing himself under the protection of his friend Pickle, far from agreeing to such concession, breathed nothing but defiance and revenge; so that the chevalier, in order to prevent mischief, put the soldier under arrest, and sent him to his lodgings, under the care of the other French gentleman and his own companion; they being also accompanied by Mr. Jolter, who, having formerly seen all the curiosities of Lisle, willingly surrendered his place to the physician.
Our hero tried to calm the chaos by telling the Scot that he had already settled the score for the injury he had suffered, and he told the doctor that he deserved the punishment he received; however, the officer, perhaps feeling emboldened by the confusion of his opponent, insisted that he apologize for what he had said. The doctor, believing he was protected by his friend Pickle, absolutely refused to make such a concession and expressed nothing but defiance and a desire for revenge. To prevent further trouble, the chevalier put the soldier under arrest and sent him to his lodgings, accompanied by the other French gentleman and his own friend; they were also joined by Mr. Jolter, who, having already seen all the sights of Lisle, gladly gave up his place to the physician.
CHAPTER LI.
Pickle engages with a Knight of Malta, in a Conversation upon the English Stage, which is followed by a Dissertation on the Theatres of the Ancients, by the Doctor.
Pickle talks with a Knight of Malta in a discussion about the English stage, which is followed by a paper on the theaters of the ancients by the Doctor.
The rest of the company proceeded to the arsenal, which having viewed, together with some remarkable churches, they, in their return, went to the comedy, and saw the Cid of Corneille tolerably well represented. In consequence of this entertainment, the discourse at supper turned upon dramatic performances; and all the objections of Monsieur Scudery to the piece they had seen acted, together with the decision of the French Academy, were canvassed and discussed. The knight was a man of letters and taste, and particularly well acquainted with the state of the English stage; so that when the painter boldly pronounced sentence against the French manner of acting, on the strength of having frequented a Covent Garden club of critics, and been often admitted, by virtue of an order, into the pit; a comparison immediately ensued, not between the authors, but the actors of both nations, to whom the chevalier and Peregrine were no strangers. Our hero, like a good Englishman, made no scruple of giving the preference to the performers of his own country, who, he alleged, obeyed the genuine impulses of nature, in exhibiting the passions of the human mind; and entered so warmly into the spirit of their several parts, that they often fancied themselves the very heroes they represented; whereas, the action of the Parisian players, even in their most interesting characters, was generally such an extravagance in voice and gesture, as is nowhere to be observed but on the stage. To illustrate this assertion, he availed himself of his talent, and mimicked the manner and voice of all the principal performers, male and female, belonging to the French comedy, to the admiration of the chevalier, who, having complimented him upon this surprising modulation, begged leave to dissent in some particulars from the opinion he had avowed.
The rest of the group headed to the arsenal, which they explored, and after visiting some impressive churches, they returned to watch a comedy and saw Corneille's Cid performed quite well. Because of this entertainment, the dinner conversation shifted to theatrical performances, discussing all of Monsieur Scudery's objections to the play they had just seen, along with the judgment of the French Academy. The knight was well-read and had refined taste, especially regarding the state of the English stage, so when the painter boldly criticized the French style of acting based on his experiences at a Covent Garden critics' club and having been allowed into the pit with a pass, a comparison arose—not between the authors, but between the actors of the two nations, which the chevalier and Peregrine were familiar with. Our hero, being a proud Englishman, had no hesitation in favoring his own country's performers, claiming they truly expressed the natural emotions of the human mind. He argued they became so immersed in their roles that they often believed themselves to be the very heroes they portrayed; meanwhile, the Parisian actors, even in their most engaging roles, were generally so exaggerated in voice and gesture that it was unlike anything seen off-stage. To prove his point, he showcased his talent and imitated the style and voice of all the main French comedy performers, male and female, which amazed the chevalier. After praising him for his impressive mimicry, the chevalier requested to respectfully disagree on a few points regarding his opinion.
“That you have good actors in England,” said he, “it would be unjust and absurd in me to deny; your theatre is adorned by one woman, whose sensibility and sweetness of voice is such as I have never observed on any other stage; she has besides, an elegance of person and expression of features, that wonderfully adapt her for the most engaging characters of your best plays; and I must freely own that I have been as highly delighted and as deeply affected by a Monimia and Belvidera at London, as ever I was by Cornelia and Cleopatra at Paris. Your favourite actor is a surprising genius. You can, moreover, boast of several comic actors who are perfect masters of buffoonery and grimace; though, to be free with you, I think in these qualifications you are excelled by the players of Amsterdam. Yet one of your graciosos I cannot admire, in all the characters he assumes. His utterance is a continual sing-song, like the chanting of vespers; and his action resembles that of heaving ballast into the hold of a ship. In his outward deportment he seems to have confounded the ideas of insolence and the dignity of mien; acts the crafty cool, designing Crookback, as a loud, shallow, blustering Hector; in the character of the mild patriot Brutus, loses all temper and decorum; nay, so ridiculous is the behaviour of him and Cassius at their interview, that, setting foot to foot, and grinning at each other, with the aspect of two cobblers engaged, they thrust their left sides together, with repeated shoots, that the hilts of their swords may clash for the entertainment of the audience; as if they were a couple of merry andrews, endeavouring to raise the laugh of the vulgar, on some scaffold of Bartholomew Fair. The despair of a great man, who falls a victim to the infernal practices of a subtle traitor who enjoyed his confidence, this English Aesopus represents, by beating his own forehead, and beating like a bull; and, indeed, in almost all his most interesting scenes, performs such strange shakings of the head, and other antic gesticulations, that when I first saw him act, I imagined the poor man laboured under the paralytical disorder, which is known by the name of St. Vitus's dance. In short, he seems to be a stranger to the more refined sensations of the soul, consequently his expression is of the vulgar kind, and he must often sink under the idea of the poet; so that he has recourse to such violence of affected agitation, as imposes upon the undiscerning spectator; but to the eye of taste, evinces him a mere player of that class whom your admired Shakespeare justly compares to Nature's journeyman tearing a passion to rags. Yet this man, in spite of all these absurdities, is an admirable Falstaff, exhibits the character of the eighth Henry to the life, is reasonably applauded in the Plain Dealer, excels in the part of Sir John Brute, and would be equal to many humorous situations in low comedy, which his pride will not allow him to undertake. I should not have been so severe upon this actor, had I not seen him extolled by his partisans with the most ridiculous and fulsome manifestations of praise, even in those very circumstances wherein (as I have observed) he chiefly failed.”
“That you have great actors in England,” he said, “would be unfair and absurd for me to deny; your theater shines with one woman whose sensitivity and sweetness of voice I’ve never seen on any other stage. Plus, she has a grace and expressive features that really make her perfect for the most appealing characters in your top plays; I have to admit I’ve been just as captivated and deeply moved by a Monimia and Belvidera in London as I was by Cornelia and Cleopatra in Paris. Your favorite actor is a remarkable talent. You can also brag about several comic actors who are total masters of slapstick and facial expressions; though, to be honest, I think you’re outdone in that area by the actors in Amsterdam. However, one of your comedic actors I can’t stand in any of the roles he takes on. His way of speaking is a constant sing-song, like the chanting of evening prayers, and his movements look like he’s heaving ballast into a ship's hold. In his mannerisms, he seems to confuse arrogance with dignity; he plays the sly, scheming Crookback as if he’s a loud, shallow, bombastic hero; in the role of the gentle patriot Brutus, he loses all composure and decorum; indeed, the way he and Cassius behave during their meeting is so ridiculous that, standing toe to toe, grinning at each other like two cobblers at work, they nudge their sides together, making their swords clash for the crowd’s entertainment, as if they were a pair of clowns trying to amuse the masses at some fair. The despair of a great man who becomes a victim of the wicked schemes of a deceptive traitor he trusted is portrayed by this English actor through forehead slapping and bull-like stomping; and honestly, in almost all his more compelling scenes, he performs such strange head shakings and other silly gestures that when I first saw him, I thought the poor guy was suffering from the dancing mania known as St. Vitus's dance. In short, he seems to be clueless about deeper human feelings, so his expression is quite basic, and he often falls short of the poet’s vision; thus, he resorts to exaggerated movements that fool the untrained audience, but to those with good taste, he comes off as just another actor in the category that your esteemed Shakespeare rightly likens to Nature's unskilled assistant tearing a passion to shreds. Yet this man, despite all these absurdities, is a fantastic Falstaff, embodies the character of Henry VIII perfectly, is reasonably praised in The Plain Dealer, shines in the role of Sir John Brute, and could handle many funny situations in low comedy, which his pride won’t let him take on. I wouldn’t have been so harsh on this actor had I not seen him lauded by his fans with the most ridiculous and over-the-top praise, even in those very instances where, as I’ve pointed out, he mostly falls short.”
Peregrine, not a little piqued to hear the qualifications of such a celebrated actor in England treated with such freedom and disrespect, answered, with some asperity, that the chevalier was a true critic, more industrious in observing the blemishes than in acknowledging the excellence of those who fell under his examination.
Peregrine, a bit annoyed to hear the reputation of such a famous actor in England discussed with such casualness and disrespect, replied, somewhat harshly, that the chevalier was a true critic, more focused on pointing out faults than recognizing the talent of those he critiqued.
It was not to be supposed that one actor could shine equally in all characters; and though his observations were undoubtedly very judicious, he himself could not help wondering that some of them had always escaped his notice, though he had been an assiduous frequenter of the playhouse. “The player in question,” said he, “has, in your own opinion, considerable share of merit in the characters of comic life; and as to the manners of the great personages in tragedy, and the operation of the grand passions of the soul, I apprehend they may be variously represented, according to the various complexion and cultivation of different men, A Spaniard, for example, though impelled by the same passion, will express it very differently from a Frenchman; and what is looked upon as graceful vivacity and address by the one, would be considered as impertinence and foppery by the other; nay, so opposite is your common deportment from that of some other nations, that one of our own countrymen, in the relation of his travels, observes, that the Persians even of this age, when they see any man perform unnecessary gestures, says he is either a fool or Frenchman. The standard of demeanour being thus unsettled, a Turk, a Moor, an Indian, or inhabitant of my country whose customs and dress are widely different from ours, may, in his sentiments, possess all the dignity of the human heart, and be inspired by the noblest passion that animates the soul, and yet excite the laughter rather than the respect of an European spectator.
It shouldn't be assumed that one actor can excel in all roles; even though his insights were certainly very wise, he couldn't help but wonder why some of them had always gone unnoticed by him, despite being a regular at the theater. “The actor we’re talking about,” he said, “has, in your opinion, a significant talent for comedic roles; as for the behavior of the great figures in tragedy and the intense emotions of the soul, I believe they can be portrayed in various ways depending on the background and development of different individuals. For example, a Spaniard, driven by the same passion, will express it very differently than a Frenchman; what one sees as charming liveliness and skill, the other may view as rudeness and showiness. Indeed, the way we usually behave is so different from that of some other cultures that one of our fellow countrymen, in his travel accounts, notes that Persians even today say that any man who uses unnecessary gestures is either a fool or a Frenchman. Since the standards of behavior are so varied, a Turk, a Moor, an Indian, or someone from my country with customs and dress vastly different from ours might truly embody all the dignity of the human spirit and be fueled by the noblest passions, yet still evoke laughter rather than respect from a European audience.
“When I first beheld your famous Parisian stage heroine in one of her principal parts, her attitudes seemed so violent, and she tossed her arms around with such extravagance, that she put me in mind of a windmill under the agitation of a hard gale; while her voice and features exhibited the lively representation of an English scold. The action of your favourite male performer was, in my opinion, equally unnatural: he appeared with the affected airs of a dancing-master; at the most pathetic junctures of his fate he lifted up his hands above his head, like a tumbler going to vault, and spoke as if his throat had been obstructed by a hair-brush: yet, when I compared their manners with those of the people before whom they performed, and made allowance for that exaggeration which obtains on all theatres, I was insensibly reconciled to their method of performance, and I could distinguish abundance of merit beneath that oddity of appearance.”
“When I first saw your famous Parisian stage heroine in one of her main roles, her movements seemed so extreme, and she flailed her arms around so dramatically that she reminded me of a windmill caught in a strong wind; meanwhile, her voice and facial expressions conveyed the lively essence of an English nag. The performance of your favorite male actor was, in my view, just as unnatural: he had the exaggerated mannerisms of a dance instructor; at the most emotional moments of his character's journey, he raised his hands above his head like a gymnast preparing to flip, and he spoke as if his throat were blocked by a hairbrush. However, when I compared their styles to those of the audience watching them and took into account the exaggeration typical of all theaters, I gradually found myself accepting their way of performing, recognizing a lot of talent beneath that unusual appearance.”
The chevalier, perceiving Peregrine a little irritated at what he had said, asked pardon for the liberty he had taken in censuring the English players; assuring him that he had an infinite veneration for the British learning, genius, and taste, which were so justly distinguished in the world of letters; and that, notwithstanding the severity of his criticism, he thought the theatre of London much better supplied with actors than that of Paris. The young gentleman thanked him for his polite condescension, at which Pallet excited, saying, with a shake of the head, “I believe so, too, Monsieur;” and the physician, impatient of the dispute in which he had borne no share, observed, with a supercilious air, that the modern stage was altogether beneath one who had an idea of ancient magnificence and execution; that plays ought to be exhibited at the expense of the state, as those of Sophocles were by the Athenians; and that proper judges should be appointed for receiving or rejecting all such performances as are offered to the public.
The knight, noticing that Peregrine seemed a bit annoyed by his comments, apologized for his boldness in criticizing the English actors. He assured him that he had immense respect for British literature, creativity, and taste, which were rightfully recognized in the world of letters. Despite his harsh critique, he believed that London’s theater had much better actors than Paris. The young man thanked him for his courteous attitude, which made Pallet excitedly nod and say, “I think so too, Sir.” The physician, tired of the discussion he hadn’t been part of, remarked with an arrogant tone that the modern stage was completely below someone who appreciated ancient greatness and artistry; he argued that plays should be funded by the government, like those of Sophocles were by the Athenians, and that proper judges should be appointed to accept or reject all performances offered to the public.
He then described the theatre at Rome, which contained eighty thousand spectators; gave them a learned disquisition into the nature of the persona, or mask, worn by the Roman actors, which, he said, was a machine that covered the whole head, furnished on the inside with a brazen concavity, that, by reverberating, the sound, as it issued from the mouth, raised the voice, so as to render it audible to such an extended audience. He explained the difference between the saltator and declamator, one of whom acted, while the other rehearsed the part; and from thence took occasion to mention the perfection of their pantomimes, who were so amazingly distinct in the exercise of their art, that a certain prince of Pontus, being at the court of Nero, and seeing one of them represent a story, begged him of the emperor, in order to employ him as an interpreter among barbarous nations, whose language he did not understand. Nay, divers cynic philosophers, who had condemned this entertainment unseen, when they chanced to be eye-witnesses of their admirable dexterity, expressed their sorrow for having so long debarred themselves of such national enjoyment.
He then described the theater in Rome, which held eighty thousand spectators; he gave them an insightful explanation of the persona, or mask, worn by Roman actors. He said it was a device that covered the entire head and had a brass cavity inside that amplified the sound from the mouth, making it loud enough for such a large audience to hear. He explained the difference between the saltator, who acted, and the declamator, who rehearsed the part. From there, he mentioned the skill of their pantomimes, who were so impressively clear in their performance that a certain prince from Pontus, visiting Nero's court, requested one from the emperor to use as an interpreter among people whose language he didn’t understand. In fact, various cynic philosophers, who had criticized this form of entertainment without seeing it, expressed regret for missing out on such a national enjoyment when they finally witnessed their incredible talent.
He dissented, however, from the opinion of Peregrine, who, as a proof of their excellence, had advanced that some of the English actors fancied themselves the very thing they represented; and recounted a story from Lucian, of a certain celebrated pantomime, who, in, acting the part of Ajax in his frenzy, was transported into a real fit of delirium, during which he tore to pieces the clothes of that actor who stalked before him, beating the stage with iron shoes, in order to increase the noise; snatched an instrument from one of the musicians, and broke it over the head of him who represented Ulysses; and, running to the consular bench, mistook a couple of senators for the sheep which were to be slain. The audience applauded him to the skies: but so conscious was the mimic of his own extravagance when he recovered the use of his reason, that he actually fell sick with mortification; and being afterwards desired to re-act the piece, flatly refused to appear in any such character, saying that the shortest follies were the best, and that it was sufficient for him to have been a madman once in his life.
He disagreed, however, with Peregrine's opinion, who had claimed that some English actors believed they were truly the characters they portrayed as proof of their talent. He shared a story from Lucian about a famous pantomime who, while acting as Ajax in a frenzy, actually fell into a real fit of delirium. During this episode, he ripped apart the clothes of the actor performing in front of him, banged on the stage with iron shoes to create more noise, grabbed an instrument from a musician and broke it over the head of the actor playing Ulysses, and ran to the consular bench, confusing a couple of senators for the sheep meant for sacrifice. The audience cheered him wildly, but when he regained his sanity, he was so aware of his own madness that he actually became sick with embarrassment. Later, when asked to perform the role again, he flatly refused to play such a character, stating that the shortest follies were the best, and that it was enough for him to have been a madman once in his life.
CHAPTER LII.
An Adventure happens to Pipes, in consequence of which he is dismissed from Peregrine's Service—The whole Company set out for Ghent, in the Diligence—Our Hero is captivated by a Lady in that Carriage—Interests her spiritual Director in his behalf.
An adventure happens to Pipes, which leads to him being let go from Peregrine's service. The entire group heads to Ghent in the coach. Our hero is smitten by a lady in that carriage and gets her spiritual advisor involved on his behalf.
The doctor being fairly engaged on the subject of the ancients, would have proceeded the Lord knows how far, without hesitation, had not he been interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Jolter, who, in great confusion, told them that Pipes, having affronted a soldier, was then surrounded in the street, and certainly would be put to death if some person of authority did not immediately interpose in his behalf.
The doctor, quite caught up in discussing the ancients, would have talked on for ages without a second thought if he hadn't been interrupted by Mr. Jolter, who rushed in, clearly flustered, to inform them that Pipes had insulted a soldier and was now surrounded in the street. He would definitely be killed unless someone with authority stepped in to help him right away.
Peregrine no sooner learned the danger of his trusty squire, than, snatching up his sword, he ran down-stairs, and was followed by the chevalier, entreating him to leave the affair to his management. Within ten yards of the door they found Tom, with his back to a wall, defending himself with a mopstick against the assault of three or four soldiers, who, at sight of the Maltese cross, desisted from the attack, and were taken into custody by order of the knight. One of the aggressors, being an Irishman, begged to be heard with great importunity before he should be sent to the guard; and, by the mediation of Pickle, was accordingly brought into the hotel with his companions, all three bearing upon their heads and faces evident marks of their adversary's prowess and dexterity. The spokesman, being confronted with Pipes, informed the company that, having by accident met with Mr. Pipes, whom he considered as his countryman, though fortune had disposed of them in different services, he invited him to drink a glass of wine, and accordingly carried him to a cabaret, where he introduced him to his comrades; but in the course of the conversation, which turned upon the power and greatness of the kings of France and England, Mr. Pipes had been pleased to treat his most Christian Majesty with great disrespect; and when he, the entertainer, expostulated with him in a friendly manner about his impolite behaviour, observing, that he, being in the French service, would be under the necessity of resenting his abuse if he did not put a stop to it before the other gentlemen of the cloth should comprehend his meaning; he had set them all three at defiance, dishonoured him in particular with the opprobrious epithet of rebel to his native king and country, and even drunk, in broken French, to the perdition of Louis and all his adherents; that, compelled by this outrageous conduct, he, as the person who had recommended him to their society, had, in vindication of his own character, demanded of the delinquent, who, on pretence of fetching a sword, had gone to his lodging, from whence he all of a sudden sallied upon them with the mopstick, which he employed in the annoyance of them all without distinction, so that they were obliged to draw in their own defence.
Peregrine quickly learned that his loyal squire was in danger. Snatching up his sword, he ran downstairs, followed by the chevalier, who urged him to let him handle the situation. Just ten yards from the door, they found Tom backed against a wall, defending himself with a mopstick against three or four soldiers. When they saw the Maltese cross, they stopped their attack and were taken into custody by the knight's orders. One of the attackers, an Irishman, urgently requested to speak before being taken to the guard. With Pickle's help, he and his companions were brought into the hotel, all showing visible signs of having been beaten by Tom. The spokesman, upon seeing Pipes, explained that he had run into Mr. Pipes, whom he considered a fellow countryman, even though fate had led them to different roles. He invited him to have a drink, and they went to a bar where he introduced him to his friends. However, during their conversation about the power of the kings of France and England, Mr. Pipes had insulted the French king. When the Irishman gently reproached him, pointing out that, since he was in the French service, he had to respond to such disrespect before the other gentlemen understood, Pipes had defiantly called him a traitor to his country and even drunkenly cursed Louis and his supporters in broken French. Forced to defend his own reputation, the Irishman demanded Pipes apologize, but Pipes claimed he just went to get a sword and suddenly attacked them all with the mopstick, making them draw their weapons in self-defense.
Pipes, being questioned by his master with regard to the truth of this account, owned that every circumstance was justly represented; saying, he did not value their cheese-toasters a pinch of oakum; and that if the gentleman had not shot in betwixt them, he would have trimmed them to such a tune, that they should not have had a whole yard to square. Peregrine reprimanded him sharply for his unmannerly behaviour, and insisted upon his asking pardon of those he had injured upon the spot: but no consideration was efficacious enough to produce such concession; to this command he was both deaf and dumb; and the repeated threats of his master had no more effect than if they had been addressed to a marble statue. At length, our hero, incensed at his obstinacy, started up, and would have chastised him with manual operation, had not he been prevented by the chevalier, who found means to moderate his indignation so far that he contented himself with dismissing the offender from his service; and after having obtained the discharge of the prisoners, gave them a louis to drink, by way of recompense for the disgrace and damage they had sustained.
Pipes, when questioned by his master about the truth of this account, admitted that every detail was accurate, saying he didn't care about their cheese-toasters at all, and that if the gentleman hadn’t intervened, he would have taken care of them so thoroughly that they wouldn’t have had a single whole yard left. Peregrine scolded him harshly for his rude behavior and insisted he apologize to those he had wronged right there. But no amount of persuasion was enough to make him comply; he was completely unresponsive to the order, and his master's repeated threats had no more effect than if they had been directed at a stone statue. Finally, our hero, frustrated by his stubbornness, stood up and would have punished him physically, but the chevalier stepped in and managed to calm his anger enough that he chose to simply dismiss the troublemaker from his service. After ensuring the prisoners were released, he gave them a louis to drink, as compensation for the humiliation and damage they had suffered.
The knight, perceiving our young gentleman very much ruffled at this accident, and reflecting upon the extraordinary deportment and appearance of his valet, whose hair had by this time adopted a grizzled hue, imagined he was some favourite domestic, who had grown gray in the service of his master's family, and that, of consequence, he was uneasy at the sacrifice he had made. Swayed by this conjecture, he earnestly solicited in his behalf; but all he could obtain, was a promise of re-admitting him into favour on the terms already proposed, or at least on condition that he should make his acknowledgment to the chevalier, for his want of reverence and respect for the French monarch.
The knight, noticing that our young gentleman was quite upset about this incident and considering the unusual behavior and appearance of his servant, whose hair had by now gone gray, thought he might be a favored household member who had aged in the service of his master's family. Consequently, the knight believed he was troubled by the sacrifice he had made. Driven by this assumption, he passionately advocated for him; however, all he could get was a promise to accept him back into favor under the previously stated conditions, or at least on the condition that he would apologize to the chevalier for his lack of reverence and respect for the French monarch.
Upon this condescension the culprit was called up-stairs, and made acquainted with the mitigation of his fate; upon which he said, he would down on his marrow-bones to his own master, but would be d—d before he would ask pardon of e'er a Frenchman in Christendom. Pickle, exasperated at this blunt declaration, ordered him out of his presence, and charged him never to appear before his face again; while the officer in vain employed all his influence and address to appease his resentment, and about midnight took his leave with marks of mortification at his want of success.
Upon this condescension, the culprit was called upstairs and informed about the reduction of his punishment; to which he responded that he would kneel to his own master but would be damned before he asked forgiveness from any Frenchman in Christendom. Pickle, frustrated by this straightforward statement, ordered him out of his sight and commanded him never to show his face again. Meanwhile, the officer futilely tried to use all his influence and charm to calm Pickle's anger, and around midnight, he left, visibly upset at his lack of success.
Next day the company agreed to travel through Flanders in the diligence, by the advice of Peregrine, who was not without hope of meeting with some adventure or amusement in that carriage; and Jolter took care to secure places for them all; it being resolved that the valet-de-chambre and the doctor's man should attend the vehicle on horseback; and as for the forlorn Pipes, he was left to reap the fruits of his own stubborn disposition, notwithstanding the united efforts of the whole triumvirate, who endeavoured to procure his pardon.
The next day, the group decided to travel through Flanders by coach, following Peregrine's suggestion, who was hopeful of finding some excitement or fun during the ride. Jolter made sure to book seats for everyone, and it was agreed that the valet and the doctor’s assistant would ride on horseback alongside the coach. As for the unfortunate Pipes, he was left to face the consequences of his own stubbornness, despite the combined attempts of the whole trio to win back his forgiveness.
Every previous measure being thus taken, they set out from Lisle about six in the morning, and found themselves in the company of a female adventurer, a very handsome young lady, a Capuchin, and a Rotterdam Jew. Our young gentleman, being the first of this society that entered, surveyed the stranger with an attentive eye, and seated himself immediately behind the beautiful unknown, who at once attracted his attention. Pallet, seeing another lady unengaged, in imitation of his friend, took possession of her neighbourhood; the physician paired with the priest, and Jolter sat down by the Jew.
After taking all the previous steps, they left Lisle around six in the morning and found themselves in the company of a female adventurer, a very attractive young woman, a Capuchin monk, and a Jew from Rotterdam. Our young man was the first of this group to enter; he looked at the stranger with keen interest and immediately took a seat right behind the beautiful unknown, who instantly captured his attention. Pallet, noticing another available lady, followed his friend's lead and settled in her vicinity; the doctor teamed up with the priest, and Jolter sat down next to the Jew.
The machine had not proceeded many furlongs, when Pickle, accosting the fair incognita, congratulated himself upon his happiness, in being the fellow-traveller of so charming a lady. She, without the least reserve or affectation, thanked him for his compliment; and replied, with a sprightly air, that now they were embarked in one common bottom, they must club their endeavours to make one another as happy as the nature of their situation would permit them to be. Encouraged by this frank intimation, and captivated by her fine black eyes and easy behaviour, he attached himself to her from that moment; and, in a little time, the conversation became so particular, that the Capuchin thought proper to interfere in the discourse in such a manner as gave the youth to understand that he was there on purpose to superintend her conduct. He was doubly rejoiced at this discovery, in consequence of which he hoped to profit in his addresses, not only by the young lady's restraint, that never fails to operate in behalf of the lover, but also by the corruptibility of her guardian, whom he did not doubt of rendering propitious to his cause. Flushed with these expectations, he behaved with uncommon complacency to the father, who was charmed with the affability of his carriage, and on the faith of his generosity abated of his vigilance so much, that our hero carried on his suit without further molestation; while the painter, in signs and loud bursts of laughter, conversed with his dulcinea, who was perfectly well versed in these simple expressions of satisfaction, and had already found means to make a dangerous invasion upon his heart.
The machine hadn’t gone very far when Pickle approached the mysterious lady and congratulated himself on his luck in traveling with such a charming woman. She responded warmly and without any pretense, thanking him for the compliment and playfully suggesting that now that they were on the same journey, they should work together to make each other as happy as their circumstances allowed. Encouraged by her openness and captivated by her beautiful black eyes and relaxed demeanor, he became attached to her immediately. Soon, their conversation became so personal that the Capuchin felt the need to step in and remind him that he was there to supervise her. This discovery made Pickle even happier, as he hoped to gain an advantage not only from the young lady’s restraint—something that often works in favor of a suitor—but also from the potential leniency of her guardian, who he was confident he could win over. Buoyed by these expectations, he treated the Capuchin with an unusual kindness, which charmed the father and allowed him to lower his guard. As a result, our hero was able to pursue his interest without further interruptions, while the painter engaged in animated gestures and hearty laughter with his beloved, who was well acquainted with these simple expressions of joy and had already started to make a dangerous impression on his heart.
Nor were the governor and physician unemployed, while their friends interested themselves in this agreeable manner. Jolter no sooner perceived the Hollander was a Jew, than he entered into an investigation of the Hebrew tongue, in which he was a connoisseur; and the doctor at the same time attacked the mendicant on the ridiculous maxims of his order, together with the impositions of priestcraft in general, which, he observed, prevailed so much among those who profess the Roman Catholic religion.
Nor were the governor and the doctor idle while their friends engaged in this pleasant manner. As soon as Jolter realized the Hollander was a Jew, he began exploring the Hebrew language, in which he was quite knowledgeable; meanwhile, the doctor confronted the beggar about the absurd beliefs of his order, along with the deceptions of clergy in general, which he noted were so prevalent among those who followed the Roman Catholic faith.
Thus coupled, each committee enjoyed their own conversation apart, without any danger of encroachment; and all were so intent upon their several topics, that they scarce allowed themselves a small interval in viewing the desolation of Menin, as they passed through that ruined frontier. About twelve o'clock they arrived at Courtray, where the horses are always changed, and the company halt an hour for refreshment. Here Peregrine handed his charmer into an apartment, where she was joined by the other lady; and on pretence of seeing some of the churches in town, put himself under the direction of the Capuchin, from whom he learned that the lady was wife to a French gentleman, to whom she had been married about a year, and that she was now on her journey to visit her mother, who lived in Brussels, and was at that time laboured under a lingering distemper, which, in all probability, would soon put a period to her life. He then launched out in praise of her daughter's virtue and conjugal affection; and, lastly, told him, that he was her father-confessor, and pitched upon to be her conductor through Flanders, by her husband, as well as his wife, placed the utmost confidence in his prudence and integrity.
Thus paired together, each committee enjoyed their own separate conversation without any risk of interruption; and everyone was so focused on their individual topics that they barely took a moment to glance at the devastation of Menin as they passed through that ruined border. Around noon, they arrived at Courtray, where the horses were always changed, and the group paused for an hour to refresh themselves. Here, Peregrine escorted his companion into a room, where she met up with the other lady; and under the pretense of wanting to see some of the churches in town, he sought the guidance of the Capuchin, from whom he learned that the lady was married to a French gentleman and had been for about a year. She was on her way to visit her mother in Brussels, who was suffering from a long-term illness that would likely soon end her life. He then praised her daughter's virtue and marital devotion; finally, he mentioned that he was her father-confessor, chosen to accompany her through Flanders, as both her husband and his wife had complete trust in his judgment and integrity.
Pickle easily comprehended the meaning of this insinuation, and took the hint accordingly. He tickled the priest's vanity with extraordinary encomiums upon the disinterested principles of his order, which were detached from all worldly pursuits, and altogether devoted to the eternal salvation of mankind. He applauded their patience, humility, and learning, and lavished a world of praise upon their talent in preaching, which, he said, had more than once operated so powerfully upon him, that had he not been restrained by certain considerations which he could not possibly waive, he should have embraced their tenets, and begged admission into their fraternity: but, as the circumstances of his fate would not permit him to take such a salutary measure for the present, he entreated the good father to accept a small token of his love and respect, for the benefit of that convent to which he belonged. So saying he pulled out a purse of ten guineas, which the Capuchin observing, turned his head another way, and, lifting up his arm, displayed a pocket almost as high as his collar-bone, in which he deposited the money.
Pickle quickly understood the implication behind this suggestion and took the hint. He flattered the priest's ego with praise for the selfless principles of his order, which were removed from all worldly concerns and fully devoted to the eternal salvation of humanity. He admired their patience, humility, and knowledge, and he showered them with compliments about their preaching skills, which, he claimed, had affected him so deeply that if not for certain reasons he couldn't ignore, he would have embraced their beliefs and requested to join their community. However, since his circumstances wouldn't allow him to take such a positive step right now, he asked the good father to accept a small token of his affection and respect for the benefit of the convent to which he belonged. With that, he pulled out a purse containing ten guineas, which the Capuchin noticed and quickly turned his head away from, raising his arm to show a pocket almost as high as his collarbone, where he placed the money.
This proof of affection for the order produced a sudden and surprising effect upon the friar. In the transport of his zeal he wrung this semi-convert's hand, showered a thousand benedictions upon his head, and exhorted him, with the tears flowing from his eyes, to perfect the great work which the finger of God had begun in his heart; and, as an instance of his concern for the welfare of his precious soul, the holy brother promised to recommend him strenuously to the pious admonitions of the young woman under his care, who was a perfect saint upon earth, and endowed with a peculiar gift of mollifying the hearts of obdurate sinners. “O father!” cried the hypocritical projector, who by this time perceived that his money was not thrown away, “if I could be favoured but for one half hour with the private instruction of that inspired devotee, my mind presages, that I should be a strayed sheep brought back into the fold, and that I should find easy entrance at the gates of heaven! There is something supernatural in her aspect: I gaze upon her with the most pious fervour, and my whole soul is agitated with tumults of hope and despair!”
This show of affection for the order had a sudden and surprising effect on the friar. In his excitement, he grabbed this semi-convert's hand, showered him with blessings, and urged him, tears streaming down his face, to complete the great work that God had started in his heart. As a sign of his concern for the well-being of this precious soul, the holy brother promised to strongly recommend him to the encouraging guidance of the young woman he was looking after, who was like a living saint and had a special talent for softening the hearts of stubborn sinners. “Oh, father!” exclaimed the insincere planner, who by now had realized his money was well spent, “if I could just have half an hour of private instruction from that inspired devotee, I know I would be a lost sheep brought back into the fold, and I would easily find my way through the gates of heaven! There’s something supernatural about her presence: I look at her with the deepest devotion, and my whole soul is in turmoil with hope and despair!”
Having pronounced this rhapsody with transport half natural and half affected, the priest assured him, that these were the operations of the Spirit, which must not be repressed; and comforted him with the hope of enjoying the blessed interview which he desired, protesting, that, as far as his influence extended, his wish should be that very evening indulged. The gracious pupil thanked him for his benevolent concern, which he swore should not be squandered upon an ungrateful object; and the rest of the company interrupting the conversation, they returned in a body to the inn, where they dined all together, and the ladies were persuaded to be our hero's guests.
After delivering this passionate speech with a mix of genuine emotion and a bit of showmanship, the priest assured him that these were the workings of the Spirit that shouldn’t be held back. He comforted him with the hope of experiencing the blessed meeting he longed for, insisting that, as far as his influence went, that wish would be granted that very evening. The grateful student thanked him for his kind concern, vowing that it wouldn’t be wasted on someone ungrateful. The rest of the group interrupted their conversation, and they all returned to the inn together, where they had dinner, and the ladies were persuaded to be our hero's guests.
As the subjects on which they had been engaged before dinner were not exhausted, each brace resumed their former theme when they were replaced in the diligence. The painter's mistress finished her conquest, by exerting her skill in the art of ogling, accompanied by frequent bewitching sighs and some tender French songs, that she sang with such pathetic expression, as quite melted the resolution of Pallet, and utterly subdued his affection. And he, to convince her of the importance of her victory, gave a specimen of his own talents, by entertaining her with that celebrated English ditty, the burden of which begins with, “The pigs they lie with their a—s bare.”
As the topics they had discussed before dinner weren't finished, each group picked up their conversation again when they got back in the coach. The painter's girlfriend sealed her victory by using her skills in flirting, accompanied by frequent, enchanting sighs and some tender French songs that she sang with such heartfelt emotion that it completely melted Pallet's resolve and completely won over his affection. To show her how important her triumph was, he entertained her with a famous English song that starts with, “The pigs they lie with their a—s bare.”
CHAPTER LIII.
He makes some Progress in her Affections—Is interrupted by a Dispute between Jolter and the Jew—Appeases the Wrath of the Capuchin, who procures for him an interview with his fair Enslaver, in which he finds himself deceived.
He makes some progress in winning her affection—Is interrupted by an argument between Jolter and the Jew—Calms the anger of the Capuchin, who arranges for him to meet his beautiful captor, where he discovers that he has been misled.
Peregrine, meanwhile, employed all his insinuation and address in practising upon the heart of the Capuchin's fair charge. He had long ago declared his passion, not in the superficial manner of a French gallant, but with all the ardour of an enthusiast. He had languished, vowed, flattered, kissed her hand by stealth, and had no reason to complain of his reception. Though, by a man of a less sanguine disposition, her particular complaisance would have been deemed equivocal, and perhaps nothing more than the effects of French breeding and constitutional vivacity; he gave his own qualifications credit for the whole, and with these sentiments carried on the attack with such unabating vigour, that she was actually prevailed upon to accept a ring, which he presented as a token of his esteem; and everything proceeded in a most prosperous train, when they were disturbed by the governor Israelite, who, in the heat of disputation, raised their voices, and poured forth such effusions of gutturals, as set our lover's teeth on edge. As they spoke in a language unknown to every one in the carriage but themselves, and looked at each other with mutual animosity and rancour, Peregrine desired to know the cause of their contention; upon which Jolter exclaimed, in a furious tone, “This learned Levite, forsooth, has the impudence to tell me that I don't understand Hebrew; and affirms that the word Benoni signifies 'child of joy;' whereas, I can prove, and have already said enough to convince any reasonable man, that in the Septuagint it is rightly translated into 'son of my sorrow.'”
Peregrine, meanwhile, put all his charm and skill into winning the heart of the Capuchin's beautiful charge. He had already declared his love, not in the superficial way of a French guy, but with the passion of a true romantic. He had sighed, made promises, flattered her, and secretly kissed her hand, and had no reason to complain about how she responded. While someone less optimistic might have viewed her particular friendliness as questionable—maybe just a result of French manners and natural liveliness—he credited his own qualities for her warmth, and with these thoughts, he pressed on with such relentless energy that she actually agreed to accept a ring he offered as a sign of his affection. Everything was going well when they were interrupted by the governor Israelite, who, in the heat of their argument, raised their voices and let out such guttural sounds that set our lover’s teeth on edge. Since they spoke in a language no one in the carriage understood except for them, and exchanged looks of mutual hostility, Peregrine asked what was causing their fight. Jolter then shouted angrily, “This learned Levite has the nerve to tell me that I don’t understand Hebrew, and insists that the word Benoni means ‘child of joy,’ when I can prove—and have already said enough to convince any reasonable person—that in the Septuagint it is correctly translated as ‘son of my sorrow.’”
Having thus explained himself to his pupil, he turned to the priest, with intention to appeal to his determination; but the Jew pulled him by the sleeve with great eagerness, saying, “For the love of God, be quiet: the Capuchin will discover who we are.” Joker, offended at this conjunction, echoed, “Who we are!” with great emphasis; and repeating nos poma natamus, asked ironically, to which of the tribes the Jew thought he belonged? The Levite, affronted at his comparing him to a ball of horse-dung, replied, with a most significant grin, “To the tribe of Issachar.” His antagonist, taking the advantage of his unwillingness to be known by the friar, and prompted by revenge for the freedom he had used, answered, in the French language, that the judgment of God was still manifest upon their whole race, not only in their being in the state of exiles from their native land, but also in the spite of their hearts and pravity of their dispositions, which demonstrate them to be the genuine offspring of those who crucified the Saviour of the world.
Having explained himself to his student, he turned to the priest, intending to appeal to his determination; but the Jew eagerly pulled him by the sleeve, saying, “For the love of God, be quiet: the Capuchin will find out who we are.” Joker, irritated by this remark, echoed, “Who we are!” with great emphasis; and repeating nos poma natamus, asked sarcastically which tribe the Jew thought he belonged to. The Levite, offended at being compared to a ball of horse-dung, replied with a significant grin, “To the tribe of Issachar.” His opponent, seeing his discomfort about being recognized by the friar and motivated by revenge for the disrespect he had shown, answered in French that the judgment of God was still evident upon their entire race, not only in their being exiled from their homeland but also in the malice of their hearts and corruption of their character, which proved them to be the true descendants of those who crucified the Savior of the world.
His expectation was, however, defeated: the priest himself was too deeply engaged to attend to the debates of other people. The physician, in the pride and insolence of his learning, had undertaken to display the absurdity of the Christian faith; having already, as he thought, confuted the Capuchin, touching the points of belief in which the Roman Catholics differ from the rest of the world. But not cemented with the imagined victory he had gained, he began to strike at the fundamentals of religion; and the father, with incredible forbearance, suffered him to make very free with the doctrine of the Trinity: but, when he leveled the shafts of his ridicule at the immaculate conception of the Blessed Virgin, the good man's patience forsook him, his eyes seemed to kindle with indignation, he trembled in every joint, and uttered, with a loud voice, “You are an abominable—I will not call thee heretic, for thou art worse, if possible, than a Jew; you deserve to be inclosed in a furnace seven times heated; and I have a good mind to lodge an information against you with the governor of Ghent, that you may be apprehended and punished as an impious blasphemer.”
His expectation, however, was shattered: the priest was too wrapped up in his own concerns to pay attention to other people's arguments. The doctor, filled with pride and arrogance from his knowledge, had taken it upon himself to show the ridiculousness of the Christian faith; he believed he had already defeated the Capuchin on the beliefs that Roman Catholics hold differently from the rest of the world. However, not content with his imagined victory, he began to attack the core principles of religion; and the father, with remarkable patience, allowed him to speak freely about the doctrine of the Trinity. But when he turned his mockery to the immaculate conception of the Blessed Virgin, the good man's patience ran out, his eyes seemed to blaze with anger, he trembled all over, and shouted, “You are abominable—I won't call you a heretic, because you're even worse, if that's possible, than a Jew; you deserve to be thrown into a furnace seven times hotter; and I'm seriously considering reporting you to the governor of Ghent so you can be arrested and punished as a blasphemous imposter.”
This menace operated like a charm upon all present. The doctor was confounded, the governor dismayed, the Levite's teeth chattered, the painter astonished at the general confusion, the cause of which he could not comprehend, and Pickle himself, not a little alarmed, was obliged to use all his interest and assiduity in appeasing this son of the church, who, at length, in consideration of the friendship he professed for the young gentleman, consented to forgive what had passed, but absolutely refused to sit in contact with such a profane wretch, whom he looked upon as a fiend of darkness, sent by the enemy of mankind to poison the minds of weak people; so that, after having crossed himself and uttered certain exorcisms, he insisted upon the doctor's changing places with the Jew, who approached the offended ecclesiastic in an agony of fear.
This threat had an immediate effect on everyone present. The doctor was shocked, the governor was upset, the Levite's teeth were chattering, the painter was taken aback by the overall chaos, which he couldn't understand, and Pickle, feeling quite anxious, had to use all his influence and effort to calm this member of the church, who eventually, considering the friendship he claimed to have for the young man, agreed to overlook what had happened, but absolutely refused to be near such a disrespectful person, whom he viewed as a dark spirit sent by the enemy of humanity to corrupt the minds of the vulnerable. After crossing himself and saying some exorcisms, he insisted that the doctor switch places with the Jew, who approached the aggrieved clergyman in a state of panic.
Matters being thus compromised, the conversation flowed in a more general channel; and without the intervention of any other accident or bone of contention, the carriage arrived at the city of Ghent about seven in the evening. Supper being bespoken for the whole company, our adventurer and his friends went out to take a superficial view of the place, leaving his new mistress to the pious exhortations of her confessor, whom, as we have already observed, he had secured in his interest. This zealous mediator spoke so warmly in his commendation, and interested her conscience so much in the affair, that she could not refuse her helping hand to the great work of his conversion, and promised to grant the interview he desired.
With matters settled, the conversation shifted to more general topics; and without any other accidents or points of contention, the carriage arrived in the city of Ghent around seven in the evening. Dinner had been arranged for the entire group, so our adventurer and his friends went out to get a quick look at the place, leaving his new partner to the supportive guidance of her confessor, whom, as we’ve already mentioned, he had enlisted to help him. This dedicated mediator spoke so passionately in his favor and made her feel so responsible for the situation that she couldn't refuse to assist with his significant transformation and promised to grant the meeting he wanted.
This agreeable piece of intelligence, which the Capuchin communicated to Peregrine at his return, elevated his spirits to such a degree, that he shone at supper with uncommon brilliance, in a thousand sallies of wit and pleasantry, to the delight of all present, especially of his fair Fleming, who seemed quite captivated by his person and behaviour. The evening being thus spent to the satisfaction of all parties, the company broke up, and retired to their several apartments, where our lover, to his unspeakable mortification, learned that the two ladies were obliged to be in the same room, all the other chambers of the inn being pre-occupied. When he imparted this difficulty to the priest, that charitable father, who was very fruitful in expedients, assured him that his spiritual concerns should not be obstructed by such a slender impediment; and accordingly availed himself of his prerogative, by going into his daughter's chamber when she was almost undressed, and leading her into his own, on pretence of administering salutary food for her soul. Having brought the two votaries together, he prayed for success to the operations of grace, and left them to their mutual meditations, after having conjured them in the most solemn manner to let no impure sentiments or temptations of the flesh interfere with the hallowed design of their meeting.
This pleasant piece of news that the Capuchin shared with Peregrine upon his return lifted his spirits so much that he dazzled everyone at supper with his wit and humor, bringing joy to all present, especially to his lovely Flemish companion, who seemed completely enchanted by him. The evening went well for everyone, and after they finished, the group went to their separate rooms. To Peregrine's utter dismay, he discovered that the two ladies had to share the same room since all the other inn rooms were taken. When he shared this issue with the priest, the kind father, who was always full of ideas, reassured him that his spiritual matters wouldn't be hindered by such a minor obstacle. He then took advantage of his position by entering his daughter's room when she was nearly undressed and bringing her into his, under the guise of providing nourishing guidance for her soul. Once he had brought the two together, he prayed for success in their spiritual journey and left them to their thoughts, having solemnly urged them not to let any impure thoughts or temptations interfere with the sacred purpose of their meeting.
The reverend intercessor being gone, and the door fastened on the inside, the pseudo-convert, transported with his passion, threw himself at his Amanda's feet; and begging she would spare him the tedious form of addresses, which the nature of their interview would not permit him to observe, began, with all the impetuosity of love, to make the most of the occasion. But whether she was displeased by the intrepidity and assurance of his behaviour, thinking herself entitled to more courtship and respect; or was really better fortified with chastity than he or his procurer had supposed her to be; certain it is, she expressed resentment and surprise at his boldness and presumption, and upbraided him with having imposed upon the charity of the friar. The young gentleman was really as much astonished at this rebuff, as she pretended to be at his declaration, and earnestly entreated her to consider how precious the moments were, and for once sacrifice superfluous ceremony to the happiness of one who adored her with such a flame as could not fail to consume his vitals, if she would not deign to bless him with her favour.
The reverend intercessor having left, and the door locked from the inside, the false convert, overwhelmed by his emotions, threw himself at Amanda's feet. He pleaded with her to skip the formalities that their situation didn’t allow, and began, with all the urgency of love, to make the most of the moment. But whether she was upset by the boldness and confidence of his behavior, feeling she deserved more courtship and respect; or whether she was actually more virtuous than he or his accomplice had thought, it was clear she showed annoyance and surprise at his audacity and scolded him for taking advantage of the friar's kindness. The young man was just as shocked by this rejection as she pretended to be by his confession, and he earnestly asked her to think about how precious the time was, and for once to set aside unnecessary formality for the happiness of someone who adored her so passionately that it could soon consume him if she didn’t grant him her favor.
Notwithstanding all his tears, vows, and supplications, his personal accomplishments, and the tempting opportunity, all that he could obtain was an acknowledgment of his having made an impression upon her heart, which she hoped the dictates of her duty would enable her to erase. This confession he considered as a delicate consent; and, obeying the impulse of his love, snatched her up in his arms, with an intention of seizing that which she declined to give; when this French Lucretia, unable to defend her virtue any other way, screamed aloud; and the Capuchin, setting his shoulder to the door, forced it open, and entered in an affected ecstasy of amazement. He lifted up his hands and eyes, and pretended to be thunderstruck at the discovery he had made; then in broken exclamations, professed his horror at the wicked intention of our hero, who had covered such a damnable scheme with the mask of religion.
Despite all his tears, promises, and pleas, his personal achievements, and the enticing chance he had, all he could get was a recognition that he had made an impact on her heart, which she hoped her sense of duty would help her erase. He saw this confession as a subtle agreement; and, driven by his love, he picked her up in his arms, intending to take what she was unwilling to give; when this French Lucretia, unable to defend her honor any other way, screamed loudly; and the Capuchin, pushing against the door, forced it open and rushed in with a feigned expression of shock. He raised his hands and eyes, pretending to be stunned by what he had uncovered; then, in broken exclamations, he expressed his horror at the wicked intentions of our hero, who had masked such a despicable plot with the guise of religion.
In short, he performed his cue with such dexterity, that the lady, believing him to be in earnest, begged he would forgive the stranger on account of his youth and education, which had been tainted by the errors of heresy; and he was on these considerations content to accept the submission of our hero; who, far from renouncing his expectations, notwithstanding this mortifying repulse, confided so much in his own talents, and the confession which his mistress had made, that he resolved to make another effort, to which nothing could have prompted him but the utmost turbulence of unruly desire.
In short, he handled his role with such skill that the lady, believing he was sincere, asked him to forgive the stranger because of his youth and the mistakes caused by heresy in his upbringing. He was willing to accept our hero's submission based on this consideration. Far from giving up on his hopes, despite this embarrassing rejection, he had so much faith in his own abilities and the confession his mistress had made that he decided to make another attempt, driven only by the intense urge of uncontrollable desire.
CHAPTER LIV.
He makes another Effort to towards the Accomplishment of his Wish, which is postponed by a strange Accident.
He makes another attempt to achieve his wish, which is delayed by a strange incident.
He directed his valet-de-chambre, who was a thorough-paced pimp, to kindle some straw in the yard, and then pass by the door of her apartment, crying with a loud voice that the house was on fire. This alarm brought both ladies out of their chamber in a moment, and Peregrine, taking the advantage of their running to the street door, entered the room, concealed himself under a large table that stood in an unobserved corner. The nymphs, as soon as they understood the cause of his Mercury's supposed affright, returned to their apartment, and, having said their prayers, undressed themselves, and went to bed. This scene, which fell under the observation of Pickle, did not at all contribute to the cooling of his concupiscence, but on the contrary inflamed him to such a degree, that he could scarce restrain his impatience, until, by her breathing deep, he concluded the fellow-lodger of his Amanda was asleep. This welcome note no sooner saluted his ears, than he crept to his charmer's bedside, and placing himself on his knees, gently laid hold on her white hand, and pressed it to his lips. She had just begun to close her eyes, and enjoy the agreeable oppression of slumber, when she was roused by this rape, at which she started, pronouncing, in a tone of surprise and dismay, “My God! who's that?”
He told his personal assistant, who was a complete hustler, to light some straw in the yard and then walk by her apartment, shouting loudly that the house was on fire. This panic caused both ladies to rush out of their room immediately, and taking advantage of their dash to the street door, Peregrine slipped into the room and hid under a large table in a corner where he wouldn’t be seen. Once the ladies realized the reason for the supposed scare, they returned to their apartment, prayed, got undressed, and went to bed. Observing this scene didn’t cool Pickle’s desire at all; instead, it fueled him to such an extent that he could hardly contain his impatience until he heard his Amanda’s roommate breathing deeply, indicating she was asleep. As soon as this reassuring sound reached his ears, he crept to his love's bedside, knelt down, gently took her white hand, and kissed it. Just as she was starting to close her eyes and drift into sleep, she was jolted awake by his invasion, exclaiming in shock and fear, “My God! Who’s that?”
The lover, with the most insinuating humility, besought her to hear him; vowing that his intention, in approaching her thus, was not to violate the laws of decency, or that indelible esteem which she had engraved on his heart; but to manifest his sorrow and contrition for the umbrage he had given, to pour forth the overflowings of his soul, and tell her that he neither could nor would survive her displeasure. These and many more pathetic protestations, accompanied with sighs and tears and other expressions of grief, which our hero had at command, could not fail to melt the tender heart of the Fleming, already prepossessed in favour of his qualifications. She sympathized so much with his affliction, as to weep in her turn, when she represented the impossibility of her rewarding his passion; and he, seizing the moment, reinforced his solicitations with such irresistible transports, that her resolution gave way, she began to breathe quick, expressed her fear of being overheard by the other lady, with an ejaculation of “O heavens! I'm undone,” suffered him, after a faint struggle, to make a lodgment upon the covered way of her bed. Her honour, however, was secured for the present, by a strange sort of knocking upon the wainscot, at the other end of the room, hard by the bed in which the female adventurer lay.
The lover, with a deeply humble demeanor, begged her to listen to him; swearing that his intention in approaching her like this was not to break the rules of decency or disrespect the lasting admiration she had etched in his heart, but to express his sorrow and regret for the offense he had caused, to open up his heart, and to tell her that he could neither live nor would live through her anger. These and many other heartfelt declarations, along with sighs and tears and all the signs of grief that he could muster, were bound to soften the tender heart of the Fleming, who was already inclined to like him for his qualities. She empathized so much with his suffering that she started to cry when she imagined the impossibility of returning his feelings; and he, seizing the moment, pressed his case with such compelling emotion that her resolve began to crumble. She started to breathe quickly, expressed her fear of being overheard by the other woman, exclaiming, “Oh heavens! I'm ruined,” and after a brief struggle, allowed him to take a spot on the edge of her bed. However, her honor was momentarily saved by a strange knocking on the wall at the other end of the room, just by the bed where the female adventurer lay.
Surprised at this circumstance, the lady begged him for heaven's sake to retreat, or her reputation would be ruined for ever; but when he represented to her, that her character would run a much greater risk if he should be detected in withdrawing, she consented, with great trepidation, to his stay, and they listened in silence to the sequel of the noise that alarmed them. This was no other than an expedient of the painter to awaken his dulcinea, with whom he had made an assignation, or at least interchanged such signals as he thought amounted to a firm appointment. His nymph, being disturbed in her first sleep, immediately understood the sound, and, true to the agreement, rose; and, unbolting the door, as softly as possible, gave him admittance; leaving it open for his more commodious retreat.
Surprised by this situation, the lady pleaded with him to retreat for the sake of her reputation, which would be ruined forever. But when he pointed out that her character would be in even greater danger if he was caught leaving, she reluctantly agreed to let him stay, and they listened in silence to the noise that had startled them. It turned out to be a trick by the painter to wake his beloved, with whom he had made a secret arrangement, or at least exchanged signals that he believed signified a solid appointment. His lady, disturbed from her light sleep, quickly recognized the sound, and being true to their agreement, got up; and, as quietly as she could, unbolted the door to let him in, leaving it ajar for his easier escape.
While this happy gallant was employed in disengaging himself from the deshabille in which he had entered, the Capuchin, suspecting that Peregrine would make another attempt upon his charge, had crept silently to the apartment in order to reconnoitre, lest the adventure should be achieved without his knowledge; a circumstance that would deprive him of the profits he might expect from his privity and concurrence. Finding the door unlatched, his suspicion was confirmed, and he made no scruple of creeping into the chamber on all four; so that the painter, having stripped himself to the shirt, in groping about for his dulcinea's bed, chanced to lay his hand upon the shaven crown of the father's head, which, by a circular motion, the priest began to turn round in his grasp, like a ball in a socket, to the surprise and consternation of poor Pallet, who, neither having penetration to comprehend the case, nor resolution to withdraw his fingers from this strange object of his touch, stood sweating in the dark, and venting ejaculations with great devotion.
While this cheerful guy was busy getting out of the casual clothes he had come in wearing, the Capuchin, suspecting that Peregrine might try again to reach his target, quietly crept to the room to check it out, just in case the plan was happening without him knowing; something that would rob him of the benefits he hoped to gain from being in on it. When he found the door unlatched, his suspicions were confirmed, and he didn’t hesitate to crawl into the room on all fours. Meanwhile, the painter, having stripped down to his shirt, was searching for his lady's bed when he accidentally touched the smooth top of the priest's head. The priest, feeling the touch, began to turn his head in the painter's grip, like a ball in a socket, which startled and confused poor Pallet, who, unable to understand what was happening and unsure about pulling his fingers away from this unusual object, stood sweating in the dark and murmuring prayers with great fervor.
The friar, tired with this exercise, and the painful posture in which he stooped, raised himself gradually upon his feet, heaving up at the same time the hand of the painter, whose terror and amazement increased to such a degree at this unaccountable elevation, that his faculties began to fail; and his palm, in the confusion of his fright, sliding over the priest's forehead, one of his fingers happened to slip into his mouth, and was immediately secured between the Capuchin's teeth with as firm a fixture as if it had been screwed in a blacksmith's vice.
The friar, weary from this task and the uncomfortable position he had been in, slowly stood up, lifting the hand of the painter at the same time. The painter's fear and astonishment grew so intense at this unexpected movement that he began to lose his senses. In his panic, his palm slipped across the priest's forehead, and one of his fingers accidentally went into the friar's mouth, where it was quickly clamped down on by the Capuchin's teeth as securely as if it had been clamped in a blacksmith's vise.
The painter was so much disordered by this sudden snap, which tortured him to the bone, that, forgetting all other considerations, he roared aloud, “Murder! a fire! a trap, a trap! help, Christians, for the love of God, help!” Our hero, confounded by these exclamation, which he knew would soon fill the room with spectators, and incensed at his own mortifying disappointment, was obliged to quit the untasted banquet, and, approaching the cause of his misfortune, just as his tormentor had thought proper to release his finger, discharged such a hearty slap between his shoulders, as brought him to the ground with hideous bellowing; then, retiring unperceived to his own chamber, was one of the first who returned with a light, on pretence of having been alarmed with his cries. The Capuchin had taken the same precaution, and followed Peregrine into the room, pronouncing benedicite, and crossing himself with many marks of astonishment. The physician and Jolter appearing at the same time, the unfortunate painter was found lying naked on the floor, in all the agony of horror and dismay, blowing upon his left hand, that hung dangling from the elbow. The circumstance of his being found in that apartment, and the attitude of his affliction, which was extremely ridiculous, provoked the doctor to a smile, and produced a small relaxation in the severity of the governor's countenance; while Pickle, testifying his surprise and concern, lifted him from the ground, and inquired into the cause of his present situation.
The painter was so shaken by this sudden snap, which tortured him to the core, that he forgot everything else and shouted, “Murder! Fire! A trap, a trap! Help, Christians, for the love of God, help!” Our hero, taken aback by these cries, which he knew would soon draw a crowd, and frustrated by his own mortifying disappointment, had to leave the untouched feast. As he approached the source of his misfortune, just as his tormentor decided to let go, he delivered a hard slap between his shoulders that sent him crashing to the ground with a terrible roar. Then, slipping away unnoticed to his own room, he was one of the first to return with a light, pretending he had been alarmed by the screams. The Capuchin had taken the same precaution and followed Peregrine into the room, saying “benedicite” and crossing himself with signs of astonishment. At the same time, the physician and Jolter arrived, and the unfortunate painter was found lying naked on the floor, in all the agony of horror and dread, blowing on his left hand that hung limply from his elbow. The sight of him in that room and the ridiculous position he was in made the doctor smile and softened the seriousness on the governor's face a bit, while Pickle, showing his surprise and concern, helped him off the ground and asked what had caused his current predicament.
Having, after some recollection, and fruitless endeavours to speak, recovered the use of his tongue, he told them that the house was certainly haunted by evil spirits, by which he had been conveyed, he knew not how, into that apartment, and afflicted with all the tortures of hell: that one of them had made itself sensible to his feeling, in the shape of a round ball of smooth flesh, which turned round under his hand, like an astronomer's globe; and then, rising up to a surprising height, was converted into a machine that laid hold on his finger, by a snap; and having pinned him to the spot, he continued for some moments in unspeakable agony. At last, he said, the engine seemed to melt away from his finger, and he received a sudden thwack upon his shoulders, as if discharged by the arm of a giant, which overthrew him in an instant upon the floor.
After some reflection and unsuccessful attempts to speak, he finally regained the use of his voice and told them that the house was definitely haunted by evil spirits. He had been brought, he didn’t know how, into that room and tormented with all the pains of hell. One of the spirits had made itself known to him as a smooth, round ball of flesh that rolled under his hand like an astronomer’s globe. Then it shot up to an incredible height and transformed into a device that grabbed his finger with a snap, pinning him to the spot and leaving him in unbearable agony for a few moments. Finally, he said, the device seemed to dissolve from his finger, and he felt a sudden hit on his shoulders as if a giant had delivered it, knocking him down instantly onto the floor.
The priest, hearing this strange account, pulled out of one of his pouches a piece of consecrated candle, which he lighted immediately, and muttered certain mysterious conjurations. Jolter, imagining that Pallet was drunk, shook his head, saying, he believed the spirit was nowhere but in his own brain. The physician for once condescended to be a wag, and, looking towards one of the beds, observed, that, in his opinion, the painter had been misled by the flesh, and not by the spirit. The fair Fleming lay in silent astonishment and affright; and her fellow in order to acquit herself of all suspicion, exclaimed with incredible volubility against the author of this uproar, who, she did not doubt, had concealed himself in the apartment with a view of perpetuating some wicked attempt upon her precious virtue, and was punished and prevented by the immediate interposition of heaven. At her desire, therefore, and at the earnest solicitation of the other lady, he was conducted to his own bed; and the chamber being evacuated, they locked their door, fully resolved to admit no more visitants for that night: while Peregrine, mad with seeing the delicious morsel snatched, as it were, from his very lip, stalked through the passage like a ghost, in hope of finding some opportunity of re-entering; till the day beginning to break, he was obliged to retire, cursing the idiotical conduct of the painter, which had so unluckily interfered with his delight.
The priest, hearing this strange story, pulled out a piece of consecrated candle from one of his pouches, lit it right away, and muttered some mysterious incantations. Jolter, thinking Pallet was drunk, shook his head and said he believed the spirit was only in Pallet's head. The physician decided to be funny for once and, looking at one of the beds, remarked that, in his opinion, the painter had been misled by the flesh, not by the spirit. The beautiful Flemish woman lay in silent shock and fear; to clear herself of any suspicion, her companion blurted out passionately against the source of this chaos, claiming she was sure someone had hidden in the room to carry out some wicked plot against her precious virtue, and that they were stopped by a direct act of heaven. Therefore, at her request and the other lady's earnest pleading, he was taken back to his own bed; and once the room was emptied, they locked the door, fully determined not to let any more visitors in that night. Meanwhile, Peregrine, furious at having this delicious opportunity snatched from him, paced through the hallway like a ghost, hoping to find a way to get back in. But as dawn began to break, he had to leave, cursing the foolish actions of the painter that had so unfortunately ruined his enjoyment.
CHAPTER LV.
They depart from Ghent—Our Hero engages in a Political Dispute with his Mistress, whom he offends, and pacifies with Submission—He practises an Expedient to detain the Carriage at Alost, and confirms the Priest in his Interest.
They leave Ghent—Our Hero gets into a political argument with his girlfriend, which upsets her, and he makes peace by apologizing—He tries a trick to hold up the carriage in Alost and secures the Priest's support.
Next day, about one o'clock, after having seen everything remarkable in town, and been present at the execution of two youths, who were hanged for ravishing a w—, they took their departure from Ghent in the same carriage which had brought them thither; and the conversation turning upon the punishment they had seen inflicted, the Flemish beauty expressed great sympathy and compassion for the unhappy sufferers, who, as she had been informed, had fallen victims to the malice of the accuser. Her sentiments were espoused by all the company, except the French lady of pleasure, who, thinking the credit of the sisterhood concerned in the affair, bitterly inveighed against the profligacy of the age, and particularly the base and villainous attempts of man upon the chastity of the weaker sex; saying, with a look of indignation directed to the painter, that for her own part she should never be able to manifest the acknowledgment she owed to Providence, for having protected her last night from the wicked aims of unbridled lust. This observation introduced a series of jokes at the expense of Pallet, who hung his ears, and sat with a silent air of dejection, fearing that, through the malevolence of the physician, his adventure might reach the ears of his wife. Indeed, though we have made shift to explain the whole transaction to the reader, it was an inextricable mystery to every individual in the diligence, because the part which was acted by the Capuchin was known to himself alone, and even he was utterly ignorant of Pickle's being concerned in the affair; so that the greatest share of the painter's sufferings were supposed to be the exaggerations of his own extravagant imagination.
The next day, around one o'clock, after seeing all the interesting sights in town and witnessing the execution of two young men who were hanged for assaulting a woman, they left Ghent in the same carriage that had brought them there. As the conversation shifted to the punishment they had just observed, the Flemish beauty expressed deep sympathy and compassion for the unfortunate victims, who, she had heard, had suffered due to the malice of the accuser. Everyone in the group agreed with her, except for the French courtesan, who, believing it reflected poorly on her profession, harshly criticized the corruption of the times—especially the vile and villainous actions of men against the purity of women. With a look of indignation directed at the painter, she remarked that she could never adequately express her gratitude to Providence for protecting her from the wicked desires of uncontrolled lust the previous night. This comment led to a series of jokes aimed at Pallet, who hung his head and sat silently, feeling dejected and anxious that the physician’s malice might reveal his escapade to his wife. Indeed, while we’ve managed to clarify the entire situation for the reader, it remained an unfathomable mystery to everyone in the carriage because only the Capuchin knew his role in the events, and even he was completely unaware of Pickle's involvement, leading most to think that the painter’s troubles were mainly products of his own wild imagination.
In the midst of their discourse on this extraordinary subject, the driver told them that they were now on the very spot where a detachment of the allied army had been intercepted and cut off by the French: and, stopping the vehicle, entertained them with a local description of the battle of Melle. Upon this occasion, the Flemish lady, who, since her marriage, had become a keen partisan for the French, gave a minute detail of all the circumstances, as they had been represented to her by her husband's brother, who was in the action. This account, which sunk the number of the French to sixteen, and raised that of the allies to twenty thousand men, was so disagreeable to truth, as well as to the laudable partiality of Peregrine, that he ventured to contradict her assertions, and a fierce dispute commenced, that not only regarded the present question, but also comprehended all the battles in which the Duke of Marlborough had commanded against Louis the Fourteenth. In the course of these debates, she divested the great general of all the glory he had acquired, by affirming, that every victory he gained was purposely lost by the French in order to bring the schemes of Madame de Maintenon into discredit; and, as a particular instance, alledged, that while the citadel of Lisle was besieged, Louis said, in presence of the Dauphin, that if the allies should be obliged to raise the siege, he would immediately declare his marriage with that lady; upon which, the son sent private orders to Marshal Boufflers to surrender the place.
In the middle of their conversation about this unusual topic, the driver told them they were now at the exact spot where a group of the allied army had been ambushed and cut off by the French. He stopped the vehicle and shared a detailed description of the battle of Melle. On this occasion, the Flemish lady, who had become a strong supporter of the French since her marriage, provided an in-depth account of everything as it had been described to her by her husband's brother, who had fought in the battle. Her story, which minimized the French forces to just sixteen and inflated the number of allies to twenty thousand, was so far from the truth and so contrary to Peregrine's natural bias that he felt compelled to challenge her claims, leading to a heated argument that not only focused on this issue but also encompassed all the battles where the Duke of Marlborough had led against Louis the Fourteenth. Throughout these arguments, she stripped the great general of all his earned glory by claiming that every victory he achieved was deliberately thrown away by the French to undermine the plans of Madame de Maintenon. As a specific example, she claimed that while the citadel of Lisle was under siege, Louis had said in front of the Dauphin that if the allies were forced to lift the siege, he would immediately announce his marriage to that lady; following that, the son secretly instructed Marshal Boufflers to surrender the fortress.
This strange allegation was supported by the asseveration of the priest and the courtesan, and admitted as truth by the governor, who pretended to have heard it from good authority; while the doctor sat neutral, as one who thought it scandalous to know the history of such modern events. The Israelite, being a true Dutchman, himself under the banners of our hero, who, in attempting to demonstrate the absurdity and improbability of what they had advanced, raised such a hue and cry against himself, and, being insensibly heated in the altercation, irritated his Amanda to such a degree, that her charming eyes kindled with fury, and he saw great reason to think, that if he did not fall upon some method to deprecate her wrath, she would, in a twinkling, sacrifice all her esteem for him to her own zeal for the glory of the French nation. Moved by this apprehension, his ardour cooled by degrees, and he insensibly detached himself from the argument, leaving the whole care of supporting it to the Jew, who, finding himself deserted, was fain to yield at discretion; so that the French remained masters of the field, and their young heroine resumed her good humour.
This strange accusation was backed up by the claims of the priest and the courtesan, and accepted as truth by the governor, who pretended to have heard it from a reliable source; meanwhile, the doctor stayed neutral, feeling it was scandalous to get involved in such modern affairs. The Israelite, being a true Dutchman and siding with our hero, tried to show how ridiculous and unlikely their claims were, which ended up causing quite a stir against him. As the argument heated up, it irritated Amanda to the point where her beautiful eyes sparkled with anger, and he realized that if he didn't find a way to calm her down, she would quickly throw away all her regard for him in favor of her own pride in the French nation. Concerned by this thought, his enthusiasm gradually faded, and he subtly pulled away from the debate, leaving the Jew to fend for himself. Feeling abandoned, the Jew had no choice but to concede, allowing the French to remain in control of the situation, and their young heroine returned to her cheerful self.
Our hero having prudently submitted to the superior intelligence of his fair enslaver, began to be harassed with the fears of losing her for ever; and set his invention at work, to contrive some means of indemnifying himself for his assiduities, presents, and the disappointment he had already undergone. On pretence of enjoying a free air, he mounted the box, and employed his elocution and generosity with such success, that the driver undertook to disable the diligence from proceeding beyond the town of Alost for that day; and, in consequence of his promise, gently overturned it when they were but a mile short of that baiting-place. He had taken his measures so discreetly, that this accident was attended with no other inconvenience than a fit of fear that took possession of the ladies, and the necessity to which they were reduced by the declaration of the coachman, who, upon examining the carriage, assured the company that the axle-tree had given way, and advised them to walk forward to the inn, while he would jog after them at a slow pace, and do his endeavour the damage should be immediately repaired.
Our hero, having wisely submitted to the superior intelligence of his beautiful captor, began to be plagued by the fear of losing her forever. He set his mind to work to figure out a way to compensate himself for his efforts, gifts, and the disappointment he had already faced. Under the pretense of wanting some fresh air, he climbed onto the box and used his charm and generosity so effectively that the driver agreed to stop the coach from going any further than the town of Alost for that day. As a result of his promise, the driver gently tipped it over when they were just a mile away from that resting place. He had planned this so carefully that the incident caused nothing more than a moment of panic among the ladies and the necessity for the coachman to tell them, after inspecting the carriage, that the axle had broken and suggested they walk on to the inn while he would follow at a slow pace and do his best to have the damage repaired quickly.
Peregrine pretended to be very much concerned at what had happened, and even cursed the driver for his inadvertency, expressing infinite impatience to be at Brussels, and wishing that this misfortune might not detain them another night upon the road; but when his understrapper, according to his instructions, came afterwards to the inn, and gave them to understand that the workman he had employed could not possibly refit the machine in less then six hours, the crafty youth affected to lose all temper, stormed at his emissary, whom he reviled in the most opprobrious terms, and threatened to cane for his misconduct. The fellow protested, with great humility, that their being overturned was owing to the failure of the axle-tree, and not to his want of care or dexterity in driving; though rather than be thought the cause of incommoding him, he would inquire for a post-chaise, in which he might depart for Brussels immediately. This expedient Pickle rejected, unless the whole company could be accommodated in the same manner; and he had been previously informed by the driver that the town could not furnish more than one vehicle of that sort. His governor, who was quite ignorant of his scheme, represented that one night would soon be passed, and exhorted him to bear this small disappointment with a good grace, especially as the house seemed to be well provided for their entertainment, and the company so much disposed to be sociable.
Peregrine pretended to be very concerned about what had happened and even cursed the driver for his mistake, showing great impatience to get to Brussels and hoping this unfortunate delay wouldn’t keep them on the road another night. However, when his assistant, following his orders, later came to the inn and informed them that the mechanic he had hired couldn’t possibly fix the vehicle in less than six hours, the sly young man completely lost his temper. He yelled at his assistant, insulting him in the harshest terms and threatening to give him a beating for his incompetence. The man humbly protested that their overturning was due to a broken axle and not because of any lack of care or skill in driving. Still, he said he would look for a post-chaise so he could leave for Brussels right away, rather than be blamed for causing a delay. Pickle dismissed this plan unless the entire group could be accommodated the same way, and he had already been told by the driver that the town could only provide one vehicle of that kind. His guardian, who was completely unaware of his scheme, pointed out that one night would pass quickly and encouraged him to accept this slight setback gracefully, especially since the inn seemed to be well-stocked for their stay and the other guests were so eager to socialize.
The Capuchin, who had found his account in cultivating the acquaintance of the young stranger, was not ill-pleased at this event, which might, by protracting the term of their intercourse, yield him some opportunity of profiting still farther by his liberality: he therefore joined Mr. Jolter in his admonitions, congratulating himself upon the prospect of enjoying his conversation a little longer than he had expected. Our young gentleman received a compliment to the same purpose from the Hebrew, who had that day exercised his gallantry upon the French coquette, and was not without hope of reaping the fruit of his attention, his rival, the painter, being quite disgraced and dejected by the adventure of last night, As for the doctor, he was too much engrossed in the contemplation of his own importance, to interest himself in the affair or its consequences, further than by observing, that the European powers ought to establish public games, like those that were celebrated of old in Greece; in which case, every state would be supplied with such dexterous charioteers as would drive a machine, at full speed, within a hair's breadth of a precipice, without any danger of its being overturned.
The Capuchin, who had benefited from getting to know the young stranger, was quite pleased by this turn of events. It could extend their time together and give him more chances to benefit from the young man's generosity. He therefore joined Mr. Jolter in his advice, feeling happy about getting to enjoy the young gentleman’s conversation a bit longer than he had anticipated. The young man also received a compliment with the same intent from the Hebrew, who had been trying to impress the French flirt that day and was hopeful about the results of his efforts, especially since his rival, the painter, was feeling quite ashamed and down after what happened last night. As for the doctor, he was too caught up in thinking about his own importance to care about the situation or its aftermath, aside from noting that the European powers should set up public games like those once celebrated in Greece; in that case, every country would have skilled charioteers capable of driving a machine at full speed, just inches from a cliff, without risking it flipping over.
Peregrine could not help yielding to their remonstrances and united complaisance, for which he thanked them in very polite terms; and his passion seeming to subside, proposed that they should amuse themselves in walking round the ramparts. He hoped to enjoy some private conversation with his admired Fleming, who had the whole day behaved with remarkable reserve. The proposal being embraced, he, as usual, handed her into the street, and took all opportunities of promoting his suit; but they were attended so closely by her father-confessor, that he foresaw it would be impracticable to accomplish his aim without the connivance of that ecclesiastic. This he was obliged to purchase with another purse, which he offered, and was accepted, as a charitable atonement for his criminal behaviour during the interview which the friar had procured for the good of his soul. The benefaction was no sooner made, than the mendicant edged off by little and little, till he joined the rest of the company, leaving his generous patron at full liberty to prosecute his purpose.
Peregrine couldn't resist giving in to their protests and united friendliness, which he thanked them for in very polite terms; and as his passion seemed to fade, he suggested they take a walk around the ramparts. He hoped to enjoy some private conversation with the admired Fleming, who had been quite reserved all day. Once everyone agreed to the proposal, he, as usual, guided her into the street and took every chance to advance his cause; however, her father-confessor closely shadowed them, making it clear that achieving his goal without the priest's cooperation would be impossible. He had to secure that cooperation by offering another purse, which was accepted as a charitable compensation for his inappropriate behavior during the meeting the friar had arranged for the sake of his soul. As soon as the donation was made, the beggar gradually eased away until he rejoined the rest of the group, leaving his generous supporter free to pursue his intentions.
It is not to be doubted that our adventurer made a good use of this occasion: he practised a thousand flowers of rhetoric, and actually exhausted his whole address, in persuading her to have compassion upon his misery, and indulge him with another private audience, without which he should run distracted, and be guilty of extravagancies which, in the humanity of her disposition, she would weep to see. But, instead of complying with his request, she chid him severely for his presumption in persecuting her with his vicious addresses: she assured him, that although she had secured a chamber for herself in this place, because she had no ambition to be better acquainted with the other lady, he would be in the wrong to disturb her with another nocturnal visit, for she was determined to deny him admittance. The lover was comforted by this hint, which he understood in the true acceptation; and his passion being inflamed by the obstacles he had met with, his heart beat high with the prospect of possession. These raptures of expectation produced an inquietude, which disabled him from bearing that share of the conversation for which he used to be distinguished. His behaviour at supper was a vicissitude of startings and reveries. The Capuchin, imputing the disorder to a second repulse from his charge, began to be invaded with the apprehension of being obliged to refund, and in a whisper forbade our hero to despair.
There's no doubt that our adventurer made the most of this opportunity: he pulled out every trick in the book to persuade her to feel sorry for his misery and grant him another private meeting. Without it, he claimed he would go mad and do things that, given her kind nature, would make her cry to witness. But instead of agreeing to his request, she scolded him harshly for daring to bother her with his unwanted advances. She made it clear that even though she had secured a room for herself there because she didn't want to get to know the other lady better, it would be wrong for him to disturb her with another late-night visit. She was determined to refuse him entry. The lover took comfort in this hint, which he understood correctly; and with the obstacles he faced fueling his passion, his heart raced at the thought of being with her. These feelings of anticipation made him restless, preventing him from engaging in the conversation like he usually did. His behavior at dinner was a mix of jumping at noises and daydreaming. The Capuchin, thinking this restlessness was due to another rejection from his interest, started to worry he might have to give back what he had, and quietly urged our hero not to lose hope.
CHAPTER LVI.
The French Coquette entraps the Heart of the Jew, against whom Pallet enters into a Conspiracy, by which Peregrine is again disappointed, and the Hebrew's Incontinence exposed.
The French Coquette traps the heart of the Jew, against whom Pallet forms a conspiracy, leading to Peregrine's disappointment once more and revealing the Hebrew's indiscretions.
Meanwhile the French siren, balked in her design upon her English cully, who was so easily disheartened, and hung his ears in manifest despondence, rather than run the risk of making a voyage that should be altogether unprofitable, resolved to practise her charms upon the Dutch merchant. She had already made such innovation upon his heart, that he cultivated her with peculiar complacency, gazed upon her with a most libidinous stare, and unbended his aspect into a grin that was truly Israelitish. The painter saw and was offended at this correspondence, which he considered as an insult upon his misfortune, as well as an evident preference of his rival; and, conscious of his own timidity, swallowed an extraordinary glass, that his invention might be stimulated, and his resolution raised to the contrivance and execution of some scheme of revenge. The wine failed in the expected effect, and, without inspiring him with the plan, served only to quicken his desire of vengeance; so that he communicated his purpose to his friend Peregrine, and begged his assistance; but our young gentleman was too intent upon his own affair to mind the concerns of any other person; and he declining to be engaged in the project, Pallet had recourse to the genius of Pickle's valet-de-chambre, who readily embarked in the undertaking, and invented a plan, which was executed accordingly.
Meanwhile, the French siren, frustrated in her plans with her English lover, who was easily put off and clearly downcast, decided it was better to use her charms on the Dutch merchant instead. She had already made significant inroads into his heart, and he treated her with special attention, gazing at her with a lustful look and grinning widely. The painter noticed this and felt offended by the situation, viewing it as an insult to his misfortune and a clear preference for his rival. Aware of his own shyness, he downed an extra glass of wine to boost his creativity and courage for some scheme of revenge. Unfortunately, the wine didn't inspire him with any ideas; it only heightened his desire for revenge. So he told his friend Peregrine about his intentions and asked for help, but Peregrine was too focused on his own matters to get involved. As a result, Pallet turned to Pickle's valet, who eagerly joined the plan and came up with a strategy, which was then put into action.
The evening being pretty far advanced, and the company separated into their respective apartments, Pickle repaired, in all the impatience of youth and desire, to the chamber of his charmer, and, finding the door unbolted, entered in a transport of joy. By the light of the room, which shone through the window, he was conducted to her bed, which he approached in the utmost agitation; and perceiving her to all appearance asleep, essayed to wake her with a gentle kiss; but this method proved ineffectual, because she was determined to save herself the confusion of being an accomplice in his guilt. He repeated the application, murmured a most passionate salutation in her ear, and took such other gentle methods of signifying his presence, as persuaded him that she was resolved to sleep, in spite of all his endeavours. Flushed with this supposition, he locked the door, in order to prevent interruption; and, stealing himself under the clothes, set fortune at defiance, while he held the fair creature circled in his arms.
The evening was pretty late, and the group had scattered to their rooms. Pickle, filled with youthful impatience and desire, headed to his love's room and, finding the door unlocked, entered with great joy. The light from the window guided him to her bed, which he approached with much excitement. Seeing her seemingly asleep, he tried to wake her with a soft kiss, but it didn’t work because she was determined to avoid the embarrassment of being involved in his wrongdoing. He tried again, whispering a passionate greeting in her ear and using other gentle ways to show he was there, but he soon realized she was intent on sleeping, no matter what he did. Feeling bold from this assumption, he locked the door to avoid any interruptions, slipped under the covers, and boldly held the beautiful girl in his arms.
Nevertheless, near as he seemed to be to the happy accomplishment of his desire, his hope was again frustrated with a fearful noise, which in a moment awaked his Amanda in a fright, and for the present engaged all his attention. His valet-de-chambre, whom Pallet had consulted as a confederate in his revenge against the lady of pleasure and her gallant, had hired of certain Bohemians, who chanced to lodge at the inn, a jackass adorned with bells, which, when everybody was retired to rest, and the Hebrew supposed to be bedded with his mistress, they led upstairs into a long thoroughfare, from which the chambers were detached on each side. The painter, perceiving the lady's door ajar, according to his expectation, mounted this animal, with intention to ride into the room, and disturb the lovers in the midst of their mutual endearments; but the ass, true to its kind, finding himself bestrid by an unknown rider, instead of advancing in obedience to his conductor, retreated backward to the other end of the passage, in spite of all the efforts of the painter, who spurred, and kicked, and pummeled to no purpose. It was the noise of this contention between Pallet and the ass which invaded the ears of Peregrine and his mistress, neither of whom could form the least rational conjecture about the cause of such strange disturbance, which increased as the animal approached their apartment. At length the bourrique's retrograde motion was obstructed by the door, which it forced open in a twinkling, with one kick, and entered with such complication of sound as terrified the lady almost into a fit, and threw her lover into the utmost perplexity and confusion.
Nevertheless, as close as he seemed to be to achieving his desire, his hope was once again dashed by a loud noise that abruptly startled Amanda awake, capturing all of his attention for the moment. His servant, who Pallet had involved as a partner in his revenge against the lady of pleasure and her lover, had rented a donkey decked out with bells from some Bohemians who were staying at the inn. When everyone had settled in for the night, and the Hebrew was believed to be tucked in with his mistress, they led the donkey up the stairs into a long hallway, where the rooms were located on either side. The painter, noticing that the lady's door was slightly open as he anticipated, climbed onto the donkey with the intention of riding into the room and interrupting the lovers in their affectionate moments. However, the donkey, true to its nature, finding itself ridden by an unfamiliar person, instead of moving forward as directed, backed away towards the other end of the hallway, despite all the efforts of the painter, who kicked, spurred, and punched in vain. The noise of this struggle between Pallet and the donkey reached the ears of Peregrine and his mistress, neither of whom could make any sense of the bizarre disturbance, which grew louder as the donkey neared their room. Finally, the donkey's backward movement was halted by the door, which it burst open with a powerful kick, entering the room with a cacophony that nearly gave the lady a fit and left her lover in utter confusion.
The painter, finding himself thus violently intruded into the bed-chamber of he knew not whom, and dreading the resentment of the possessor, who might discharge a pistol at him as a robber who had broken into his apartment, was overwhelmed with consternation, and redoubled his exertion to accomplish a speedy retreat, sweating all the time with fear, and putting up petition to Heaven for his safety; but his obstinate companion, regardless of his situation, instead of submitting to his conduct, began to turn round like a millstone, the united sound of his feet and bells producing a most surprising concert. The unfortunate rider, whirling about in this manner, would have quitted his seat, and left the beast to his own amusement, but the rotation was so rapid, that the terror of a severe fall hindered him from attempting to dismount; and, in the desperation of his heart, he seized one of his ears, which he pinched so unmercifully, that the creature set up his throat, and brayed aloud.
The painter, finding himself suddenly intruding into the bedroom of someone he didn't know, and fearing the owner's anger, who might shoot him like a robber breaking into his place, was filled with panic and pushed himself to escape quickly, sweating from fear and silently praying for his safety. But his stubborn companion, ignoring the situation, began to spin around like a millstone, the combined noise of his feet and bells creating a surprising symphony. The unfortunate rider, spinning this way, would have jumped off and let the beast entertain itself, but the speed of the rotation scared him too much to try to dismount. In his desperation, he grabbed one of the animal's ears and pinched it so hard that the creature let out a loud bray.
This hideous exclamation was no sooner heard by the fair Fleming, already chilled with panic, and prepared with superstition, than, believing herself visited by the devil, who was permitted to punish her for her infidelity to the marriage-bed, she uttered a scream, and began to repeat her pater noster with a loud voice. Her lover, finding himself under the necessity of retiring, started up, and, stung with the most violent pangs of rage and disappointment, ran directly to the spot from whence this diabolical noise seemed to proceed. There encountering the ass he discharged such a volley of blows at him and his rider, that the creature carried him off at a round trot, and they roared in unison all the way. Having thus cleared the room of such disagreeable company, he went back to his mistress, and assuring her that this was only some foolish prank of Pallet, took his leave, with a promise of returning after the quiet of the inn should be re-established.
This ugly shout was heard by the frightened Fleming, who was already feeling panicked and superstitious. Believing she was being visited by the devil as punishment for her unfaithfulness, she screamed and started to loudly say her prayers. Her lover, feeling the need to leave, jumped up, overwhelmed by intense feelings of anger and disappointment, and ran straight to where the disturbing noise seemed to be coming from. There, he found the donkey and unleashed a barrage of blows on it and its rider, causing the animal to take off at a brisk trot while they both yelled loudly the entire way. Having cleared the room of such unwelcome company, he returned to his mistress and reassured her that it was just some silly trick by Pallet. He said his goodbyes, promising to come back once the inn was calm again.
In the mean time, the noise of the bourrique, the cries of the painter, and the lady's scream, had alarmed the whole house; and the ass, in the precipitation of his retreat, seeing people with lights before him, took shelter in the apartment for which he was at first designed, just as the Levite, aroused at the uproar, had quitted his dulcinea, and was attempting to recover his own chamber unperceived. Seeing himself opposed by such an animal, mounted by a tall, meagre, lantern-jawed figure, half naked, with a white nightcap upon his head which added to the natural paleness of his complexion,—the Jew was sorely troubled in mind and believing it to be an apparition of Balaam and his ass, flew backward with a nimble pace, and crept under the bed, where he lay, concealed. Mr. Jolter and the priest, who were the foremost of those who had been aroused by the noise, were not unmoved when they saw such a spectacle rushing into the chamber, whence the lady of pleasure began to shriek. The governor made a full halt, and the Capuchin discovered no inclination to proceed. They were, however, by the pressure of the crowd that followed them, thrust forward to the door, through which the vision entered; and there Jolter, with great ceremony, complimented his reverence with the pas, beseeching him to walk in. The mendicant was too courteous and humble to accept this pre-eminence, and a very earnest dispute ensued; during which, the ass, in the course of his circuit, showed himself and rider, and in a trice decided the contest; for, struck with this second glimpse, both at one instant sprang backward with such force, as overturned their next men, who communicated the impulse to those that stood behind them, and these again to others; so that the whole passage was strewed with a long file of people, that lay in a line, like the sequel and dependence of a pack of cards.
In the meantime, the noise from the donkey, the painter's shouts, and the lady's scream had startled the entire house. The donkey, in his rush to escape, saw people with lights in front of him and took refuge in the room he had initially been headed for, just as the Levite, awakened by the commotion, left his lady and was trying to get back to his room unnoticed. Faced with such a creature, ridden by a tall, skinny figure with a long jaw and half-dressed, wearing a white nightcap that made his already pale complexion look even paler, the Jew was greatly troubled and, thinking it was a vision of Balaam and his donkey, quickly dashed backward and crawled under the bed to hide. Mr. Jolter and the priest, who were among the first people startled by the noise, were also shaken when they saw this sight rushing into the room, prompting the lady of pleasure to scream. The governor stopped in his tracks, and the Capuchin showed no interest in moving forward. However, the pressure from the crowd behind them pushed them toward the door through which the vision had entered. There, Jolter, with great formality, invited the priest to go in first, but the mendicant was too polite and humble to accept this priority, leading to a heated debate. During this argument, the donkey and his rider appeared again, which quickly settled the dispute; both men, startled by this second sight, instantly jumped back with such force that they knocked over the people nearest to them, who then passed the momentum to the ones behind them, causing a pile-up throughout the hallway that looked like a long line of fallen playing cards.
In the midst of this havoc, our hero returned from his own room with an air of astonishment, asking the cause of this uproar. Receiving such hints of intelligence as Jolter's consternation would permit him to give, he snatched the candle out of his hand, and advanced into the haunted chamber without hesitation, being followed by all present, who broke forth into a long and loud peal of laughter, when they perceived the ludicrous source of their disquiet. The painter himself made an effort to join their mirth; but he had been so harrowed by fear, and smarted so much with the pain of the discipline he had received from Pickle, that he could not, with all his endeavours, vanquish the ruefulness of his countenance. His attempt served only to increase the awkwardness of his situation, which was not at all mended by the behaviour of the coquette, who, furious with her disappointment, slipped on a petticoat and bedgown, and springing upon him, like mother Hecuba, with her nails deprived all one side of his nose of the skin; and would not have left him an eye to see through, if some of the company had not rescued him from her unmerciful talons. Provoked at this outrage, as well as by her behaviour to him in the diligence, he publicly explained his intention in entering her chamber in this equipage; and missing the Hebrew among the spectators, assured them that he must have absconded somewhere in the apartment. In pursuance of this intimation, the room was immediately searched, and the mortified Levite pulled up by the heels from his lurking-place; so that Pallet had the good fortune, at last, to transfer the laugh from himself to his rival and the French inamorata, who accordingly underwent the ridicule of the whole audience.
In the middle of all this chaos, our hero came back from his room, looking surprised and asking what all the noise was about. After getting whatever information Jolter could manage to communicate, he snatched the candle from his hand and stepped into the haunted room without any hesitation, followed by everyone present. They all erupted into a long and loud laugh when they realized the silly reason for their fright. The painter tried to join in their laughter, but he was so shaken with fear and still stinging from the punishment he had received from Pickle that he couldn't manage to hide his gloomy expression. His effort only made his awkward situation worse, which was compounded by the behavior of the flirtatious woman. Furious over her disappointment, she quickly threw on a petticoat and bedgown, jumped on him like a wild animal, and clawed one side of his nose, leaving raw skin behind; she would have blinded him if some people hadn't rescued him from her brutal grip. Angry about this attack and her treatment of him earlier, he publicly explained why he had entered her room looking the way he did, and noticing that the Hebrew was missing from the crowd, he told them he must have hidden somewhere in the room. Following this hint, they immediately searched the room and pulled the embarrassed Levite out from his hiding spot. In the end, Pallet was lucky enough to shift the laughter away from himself and onto his rival and the French flirt, who both became the butt of everyone's jokes.
CHAPTER LVII.
Pallet endeavouring to unravel the Mystery of the Treatment he had received, falls out of the Frying-pan into the Fire.
Pallet trying to figure out the mystery of the treatment he had received ends up falling from the frying pan into the fire.
Nevertheless, Pallet was still confounded and chagrined by one consideration, which was no other than that of his having been so roughly handled in the chamber, belonging, as he found upon inquiry, to the handsome young lady who was under the Capuchin's direction. He recollected that the door was fast locked when his beast burst it open, and he had no reason to believe that any person followed him in his inruption: on the other hand, he could not imagine that such a gentle creature would either attempt to commit, or be able to execute, such a desperate assault as that which his body had sustained; and her demeanour was so modest and circumspect, that he durst not harbour the least suspicion of her virtue. These reflections bewildered him in the labyrinth of thought: he rummaged his whole imagination, endeavouring to account for what had happened. At length, he concluded, that either Peregrine, or the devil, or both must have been at the bottom of the whole affair, and determined, for the satisfaction of his curiosity, to watch our hero's motions, during the remaining part of the night, so narrowly, that his conduct, mysterious as it was, should not be able to elude his penetration.
Nevertheless, Pallet was still confused and frustrated by one thing: he had been treated so roughly in the room, which, as he discovered upon inquiry, belonged to the beautiful young lady under the Capuchin's care. He remembered that the door was locked tight when his horse burst it open, and he had no reason to think anyone followed him in. On the other hand, he couldn’t believe that such a gentle person would either try or be able to carry out such a violent attack as the one his body had endured; her demeanor was so modest and careful that he couldn’t suspect her virtue at all. These thoughts left him bewildered in a maze of confusion: he searched through his entire imagination trying to make sense of what had happened. Eventually, he concluded that either Peregrine, or the devil, or maybe both, must have been behind the whole situation, and he decided that to satisfy his curiosity, he would closely monitor our hero’s actions for the rest of the night, ensuring he wouldn't be able to escape his scrutiny, no matter how mysterious his behavior was.
With these sentiments he retired to his own room, after the ass had been restored to the right owners, and the priest had visited and comforted his fair ward, who had been almost distracted with fear. Silence no sooner prevailed again, than he crawled darkling towards her door, and huddled himself up in an obscure corner, from whence he might observe the ingress or egress of any human creature. He had not long remained in this posture, when, fatigued with this adventure and that of the preceding night, his faculties were gradually overpowered with slumber; and, falling fast asleep, he began to snore like a whole congregation of Presbyterians. The Flemish beauty, hearing this discordant noise in the passage, began to be afraid of some new alarm, and very prudently bolted her door; so that when her lover wanted to repeat his visit he was not only surprised and incensed at this disagreeable serenade, the author of which he did not know; but when compelled by his passion, which was by this time wound to the highest pitch, he ventured to approach the entrance, he had the extreme mortification to find himself shut out. He durst not knock or signify his presence in any other manner, on account of the lady's reputation, which would have greatly suffered had the snorer been waked by his endeavours. Had he known that the person who thus thwarted his views was the painter, he would have taken some effectual step to remove him; but he could not conceive what should induce Pallet to take up his residence in that corner; nor could he use the assistance of a light, to distinguish him, because there was not a candle burning in the house.
With those feelings, he went back to his room after the donkey was returned to its rightful owners and the priest had visited and comforted his lovely ward, who had been almost overwhelmed with fear. As soon as silence returned, he crawled quietly toward her door and hunched himself in a hidden corner where he could watch anyone coming in or out. He hadn’t been in that position long before, worn out from this adventure and the previous night, he gradually drifted off to sleep; soon enough, he was snoring like a whole congregation of Presbyterians. The Flemish beauty, hearing that noisy racket in the hallway, began to worry about some new trouble and wisely locked her door. So, when her lover wanted to see her again, he was not only surprised and annoyed by this unpleasant serenade, the source of which he didn’t know, but when driven by his passion, which had now reached its peak, he ventured to approach the entrance, he was extremely frustrated to find himself shut out. He didn’t dare knock or signal his presence in any way, due to the lady's reputation, which would have been seriously harmed if the snorer woke up because of his efforts. If he had known that the person blocking his way was the painter, he would have taken some effective action to remove him; however, he couldn’t figure out what would make Pallet take up residence in that corner, and he couldn’t use a light to identify him since there wasn’t a candle burning in the house.
It is impossible to describe the rage and vexation of our hero, while he continued thus tantalized upon the brink of bliss, after his desire had been exasperated by the circumstances of his former disappointments. He ejaculated a thousand execrations against his own fortune, cursed all his fellow-travellers without exception, vowed revenge against the painter, who had twice confounded his most interesting scheme, and was tempted to execute immediate vengeance upon the unknown cause of his present miscarriage. In this agony of distraction did he sweat two whole hours in the passage, though not without some faint hope of being delivered from his tormentor, who, he imagined, upon waking, would undoubtedly shift his quarters, and leave the field free to his designs; but when he heard the cock repeat his salutation to the morn, which began to open on the rear of night, he could no longer restrain his indignation. Going to his own chamber, he filled a basin with cold water, and, standing at some distance, discharged it full in the face of the gaping snorer, who, over and above the surprise occasioned by the application, was almost suffocated by the liquor that entered his mouth, and ran down into his windpipe. While he gasped like a person half-drowned, without knowing the nature of his disaster, or remembering the situation in which he fell asleep, Peregrine retired to his own door, and, to his no small astonishment, from a long howl that invaded his ears, learned that the patient was no other than Pallet, who had now, for the third time, balked his good fortune.
It’s impossible to describe the anger and frustration of our hero as he remained on the edge of happiness, after his hopes were fueled by past disappointments. He shouted countless curses at his own luck, blamed all his fellow travelers, vowed revenge against the painter who had ruined his most important plans twice, and felt tempted to take immediate action against the mysterious cause of his current setback. In this state of anguish, he paced for two whole hours in the passage, not without some faint hope that his tormentor would soon wake up, move to another spot, and leave the path clear for his plans. But when he heard the rooster crowing to greet the morning that was beginning to break, he could no longer hold back his anger. He went to his room, filled a basin with cold water, and from a distance, threw it right in the face of the snoring man. Startled and almost choking on the water that had gone into his mouth and down his windpipe, the sleeper gasped for air like someone half-drowned, confused about what had happened and disoriented about where he had fallen asleep. Peregrine returned to his door and, to his great surprise, realized from the long howl that filled the air that the unfortunate sleeper was none other than Pallet, who had now thwarted his good fortune for the third time.
Enraged at the complicated trespasses of this unfortunate offender, he rushed from his apartment with a horsewhip, and, encountering the painter in his flight, overturned him in the passage. There he exercised the instrument of his wrath with great severity on pretence of mistaking him for some presumptuous cur, which had disturbed the repose of the inn: nay, when he called aloud for mercy in a supplicating tone, and his chastiser could no longer pretend to treat him as a quadruped, such was the virulence of the young gentleman's indignation, that he could not help declaring his satisfaction, by telling Pallet he had richly deserved the punishment he had undergone, for his madness, folly, and impertinence, in contriving and executing such idle schemes, as had no other tendency than that of plaguing his neighbours.
Furious at the complicated offenses of this unfortunate offender, he stormed out of his apartment with a horsewhip and, running into the painter, knocked him over in the hallway. There, he unleashed his anger without restraint, pretending to mistake him for some arrogant dog that had disturbed the peace of the inn. Even when the painter cried out for mercy in a pleading tone, and his attacker could no longer keep up the charade of treating him like an animal, the young man's rage was so intense that he couldn't help but express his satisfaction by telling Pallet that he had fully deserved the punishment he had received for his madness, foolishness, and rudeness in coming up with and carrying out such pointless schemes that only served to annoy his neighbors.
Pallet protested, with great vehemence, that he was innocent as the child unborn of an intention to give umbrage to any person whatever, except the Israelite and his doxy, who he knew had incurred his displeasure. “But as God is my Saviour,” said he, “I believe I am persecuted with witchcraft, and begin to think that d—d priest is an agent of the devil; for he has been but two nights in our company, during which I have not closed an eye; but, on the contrary, have been tormented by all the fiends of hell.” Pickle peevishly replied, that his torments had been occasioned by his own foolish imagination; and asked how he came to howl in that corner. The painter, who did not think proper to own the truth, said, that he had been transported thither by some preternatural conveyance, and soused in water by an invisible hand. The youth, in hope of profiting by his absence, advised him to retire immediately to his bed, and by sleep strive to comfort his brain, which seemed to be not a little disordered by the want of that refreshment. Pallet himself began to be very much of the same way of thinking; and, in compliance with such wholesome counsel, betook himself to rest, muttering prayers all the way for the recovery of his own understanding.
Pallet insisted passionately that he was as innocent as an unborn child when it came to any intention of upsetting anyone, except the Israelite and his companion, who he knew had upset him. “But as God is my Savior,” he said, “I feel like I’m being tormented by witchcraft, and I’m starting to think that damned priest is working for the devil; because he’s only been with us for two nights, and during that time, I haven’t slept a wink but have instead been tormented by all the demons from hell.” Pickle annoyedly responded that Pallet’s torments were the result of his own foolish imagination and asked how he ended up howling in that corner. The painter, not wanting to admit the truth, said he had been transported there by some supernatural force and drenched in water by an unseen hand. The young man, hoping to benefit from Pallet's absence, suggested he retreat to bed and try to ease his troubled mind with sleep, which seemed to be greatly affected by his lack of rest. Pallet began to think the same way and, following this sound advice, went to bed, muttering prayers all the way for the restoration of his sanity.
Pickle attended him to his chamber, and, locking him up, put the key in his own pocket, that he might not have it in his power to interrupt him again; but in his return he was met by Mr. Jolter and the doctor, who had been a second time alarmed by the painter's cries, and came to inquire about this new adventure. Half-frantic with such a series of disappointments, he cursed them in his heart for their unseasonable appearance. When they questioned him about Pallet, he told them he had found him stark staring mad, howling in a corner, and wet to the skin, and conducted him to his room, where he was now abed. The physician, hearing this circumstance, made a merit of his vanity; and, under pretence of concern for the patient's welfare, desired he might have an opportunity of examining the symptoms of his disorder, without loss of time; alleging that many diseases might have been stifled in the birth, which afterwards baffled all the endeavours of the medical art. The young gentleman accordingly delivered the key, and once more withdrew into his own chamber, with a view of seizing the first occasion that should present itself of renewing his application to his Amanda's door; while the doctor, in his way to Pellet's apartment, hinted to the governor his suspicion that the patient laboured under that dreadful symptom called the hydrophobia, which he observed had sometimes appeared in persons who were not previously bit by a mad dog. This conjecture he founded upon the howl he uttered when he was soused with water, and began to recollect certain circumstances of the painter's behaviour for some days past, which now he could plainly perceive had prognosticated some such calamity. He then ascribed the distemper to the violent frights he had lately undergone, affirming that the affair of the Bastille had made such a violent encroachment upon his understanding, that his manner of thinking and speaking was entirely altered. By a theory of his own invention, he explained the effects of fear upon a loose system of nerves, and demonstrated the modus in which the animal spirits operate upon the ideas and power of imagination.
Pickle led him to his room, locked him in, and put the key in his own pocket so he couldn't interrupt him again. On his way back, he was met by Mr. Jolter and the doctor, who had been alarmed again by the painter's screams and came to find out about this latest incident. Frantic from so many disappointments, he inwardly cursed them for showing up at such an inconvenient time. When they asked him about Pallet, he told them he had found him completely out of his mind, howling in a corner, drenched from head to toe, and led him to his room, where he was now in bed. The doctor, hearing this, took the opportunity to show off his own importance and expressed a desire to examine the patient's symptoms right away, claiming that many diseases could have been prevented early on but later resisted all medical efforts. The young man then handed over the key and returned to his own room, hoping to find a chance to revisit Amanda's door. Meanwhile, the doctor, on his way to Pellet's room, suggested to the governor that the patient seemed to be suffering from hydrophobia, which sometimes appears in people who haven’t been bitten by a rabid dog. He based this theory on the howl Pallet let out when soaked with water, recalling certain behaviors of the painter over the past few days that now seemed to predict such a disaster. He attributed the illness to the intense fright Pallet had recently experienced, asserting that the incident with the Bastille had severely affected his mental state, changing the way he thought and spoke. Using his own theory, he explained how fear affects the nervous system and demonstrated how the animal spirits influence thoughts and imagination.
This disquisition, which was communicated at the painter's door, might have lasted till breakfast, had not Jolter reminded him of his own maxim, Venienti occurrite morbo; upon which he put the key to immediate use, and they walked softly towards the bed, where the patient lay extended at full length in the arms of sleep. The physician took notice of his breathing hard, and his mouth being open; and from these diagnostics declared, that the liquidum nervosum was intimately affected, and the saliva impregnated with the spiculated particles of the virus, howsoever contracted. This sentence was still farther confirmed by the state of his pulse, which, being full and slow, indicated an oppressed circulation, from a loss of elasticity in the propelling arteries. He proposed that he should immediately suffer a second aspersion of water, which would not only contribute to the cure, but also certify them, beyond all possibility of doubt, with regard to the state of the disease; for it would evidently appear, from the manner in which he would bear the application, whether or not his horror of water amounted to a confirmed hydrophobia. Mr. Jolter, in compliance with his proposal, began to empty a bottle of water, which he found in the room in a basin; when he was interrupted by the prescriber, who advised him to use the contents of the chamberpot, which, being impregnated with salt, would operate more effectually than pure element. Thus directed, the governor lifted up the vessel, which was replete with medicine, and with one turn of his hand, discharged the whole healing inundation upon the ill-omened patient, who, waking in the utmost distraction of horror, yelled most hideously, just at the time when Peregrine had brought his mistress to a parley, and entertained hopes of being admitted into her chamber.
This discussion, which took place at the painter's door, could have gone on until breakfast if Jolter hadn't reminded him of his own saying, "Address the illness as it arrives." With that, he quickly used the key, and they quietly approached the bed where the patient lay sound asleep. The doctor noticed his heavy breathing and that his mouth was open; from these observations, he concluded that the nervous fluid was seriously affected and the saliva contaminated with the harmful particles of the virus, however he had contracted it. This conclusion was further supported by his pulse, which was full and slow, indicating poor circulation due to a loss of elasticity in the arteries. He suggested that the patient should immediately be doused with water again, which would not only aid in the cure but also confirm their suspicions about the condition of the illness; it would clearly show, based on how he reacted, whether his fear of water indicated a confirmed case of hydrophobia. Mr. Jolter, following this suggestion, began to pour a bottle of water he found in a basin; however, he was interrupted by the prescriber, who recommended using the contents of the chamber pot instead, as it had been mixed with salt and would be more effective than plain water. Following this advice, the governor lifted the vessel, filled with this concoction, and with one swift motion, doused the ill-fated patient, who woke up in a state of sheer horror, screaming loudly, just as Peregrine had brought his love to a discussion and was hopeful for admission into her room.
Terrified at this exclamation, she instantly broke off the treaty, beseeching him to retire from the door, that her honour might receive no injury from his being found in that place; and he had just enough of recollection left to see the necessity of obeying the order; in conformity to which he retreated well nigh deprived of his senses, and almost persuaded that so many unaccountable disappointments must have proceeded from some supernatural cause, of which the idiot Pallet was no more than the involuntary instrument.
Terrified by his outburst, she immediately ended the agreement, pleading with him to step away from the door so her reputation wouldn’t be harmed by his presence there. He was just aware enough to realize that he needed to follow her request, and he backed away, nearly out of his mind, almost convinced that all these strange setbacks must have some supernatural origin, of which the fool Pallet was merely an unwitting tool.
Meanwhile, the doctor having ascertained the malady of the patient, whose cries, interrupted by frequent sobs and sighs, he interpreted into the barking of a dog, and having no more salt-water at hand, resolved to renew the bath with such materials as chance would afford. He actually laid hold of the bottle and basin; but by this time the painter had recovered the use of his senses so well as to perceive his drift, and, starting up like a frantic bedlamite, ran directly to his sword, swearing, with many horrid imprecations, that he would murder them both immediately, if he should be hanged before dinner, They did not choose to wait the issue of his threat, but retired with such precipitation that the physician had almost dislocated his shoulder by running against one side of the entry. Jolter, having pulled the door after him and turned the key, betook himself to flight, roaring aloud for assistance. His colleague, seeing the door secured, valued himself upon his resolution, and exhorted him to return; declaring that, for his own part, he was more afraid of the madman's teeth than of his weapon, and admonishing the governor to re-enter and execute what they had left undone. “Go in,” said he, “without fear or apprehension; and if any accident shall happen to you, either from his slaver or his sword, I will assist you with my advice, which from this station I can more coolly and distinctly administer, than I should be able to supply if my ideas were disturbed, or my attention engaged in any personal concern.” Jolter, who could make no objection to the justness of the conclusion, frankly owned that he had no inclination to try the experiment; observing, that self-preservation was the first law of nature; that his connections with the unhappy lunatic were but slight; and that it could not be reasonably expected that he would run such risks for his service as were declined by one who had set out with him from England on the footing of a companion. This insinuation introduced a dispute upon the nature of benevolence, and the moral sense, which, the republican argued, existed independent of any private consideration, and could never be affected by any contingent circumstance of time and fortune; while the other, who abhorred his principles, asserted the duties and excellence of private friendship with infinite rancour of altercation.
Meanwhile, the doctor, having figured out what was wrong with the patient, whose cries were interrupted by frequent sobs and sighs that he interpreted as the barking of a dog, and having run out of salt water, decided to continue the bath with whatever materials were available. He actually grabbed the bottle and basin; but by that time, the painter had regained enough of his senses to realize what he was up to and, jumping up like a crazed person, ran straight for his sword, swearing with many horrible curses that he would kill them both right away if he had to be hanged before dinner. They didn’t want to wait to see what he would do, so they backed off so quickly that the physician nearly dislocated his shoulder when he ran into one side of the doorway. Jolter, having pulled the door shut and locked it, took off running, shouting for help. His colleague, seeing the door secured, felt proud of his bravery and urged him to go back, stating that he was more afraid of the madman's teeth than his weapon, and advising the governor to go back in and finish what they had started. “Go in,” he said, “without fear or worry; and if anything happens to you, whether from his spit or his sword, I’ll help you with my advice, which I can give more calmly and clearly from here than if I were involved in any personal trouble.” Jolter, unable to argue with the logic of this conclusion, openly admitted that he didn’t want to risk it, noting that self-preservation is the first law of nature; that his ties to the unfortunate madman were weak; and that it wasn’t reasonable to expect him to take such risks for someone who had started their journey together from England as a companion. This remark sparked a debate about the nature of kindness and moral sense, which the republican argued exists independently of personal interests and can never be influenced by circumstances of time and luck, while the other, who detested his ideas, passionately defended the duties and importance of private friendship with intense argument.
During the hottest of the argument, they were joined by the Capuchin, who being astonished to see them thus virulently engaged at the door, and to hear the painter bellowing within the chamber, conjured them, in the name of God, to tell him the cause of that confusion which had kept the whole house in continual alarm during the best part of the night, and seemed to be the immediate work of the devil and his angels. When the governor gave him to understand that Pallet was visited with an evil spirit, he muttered a prayer of St. Antonio de Padua, and undertook to cure the painter, provided he could be secured so as that he might, without danger to himself, burn part of a certain relic under his nose, which he assured them was equal to the miraculous power of Eleazar's ring. They expressed great curiosity to know what this treasure was; and the priest was prevailed upon to tell them in confidence, that it was a collection of the parings of the nails belonging to those two madmen, whom Jesus purged of the legion of devils that afterwards entered the swine. So saying, he pulled from one of his pockets a small box, containing about an ounce of the parings of a horse's hoof; at sight of which the governor could not help smiling, on account of the grossness of the imposition. The doctor asked, with a supercilious smile, whether those maniacs whom Jesus cured were of the sorrel complexion, or dapple-gray; for, from the texture of these parings, he could prove that the original owners were of the quadruped order, and even distinguish that their feet had been fortified with shoes of iron.
During the height of the argument, they were joined by the Capuchin, who, surprised to see them so fiercely involved at the door and to hear the painter shouting inside the room, urged them, in the name of God, to explain the cause of the chaos that had kept the whole house in a state of alarm for most of the night and seemed to be the direct work of the devil and his minions. When the governor explained that Pallet was troubled by an evil spirit, he muttered a prayer to St. Anthony of Padua and offered to cure the painter, as long as he could be safely restrained so that he could burn part of a certain relic right under his nose, which he assured them was as powerful as Eleazar's ring. They were very curious to know what this treasure was; and the priest was convinced to reveal to them in confidence that it was a collection of the trimmings of the nails from those two crazies who Jesus freed from a legion of demons that later entered the pigs. With that, he pulled out a small box from one of his pockets, containing about an ounce of horse hoof trimmings; upon seeing this, the governor couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of the trick. The doctor asked, with a condescending smile, whether those maniacs whom Jesus healed were sorrel or dapple-gray, because from the texture of these trimmings, he could prove that the original owners were quadrupeds and even tell that their feet had been shod with iron shoes.
The mendicant, who bore an inveterate grudge against this son of Esculapius ever since he had made so free with the Catholic religion, replied, with great bitterness, that he was a wretch with whom no Christian ought to communicate; that the vengeance of Heaven would one day overtake him, on account of his profanity; and that his heart was shod with a metal much harder than iron, which nothing but hell fire would be able to melt.
The beggar, who held a deep grudge against this son of Esculapius ever since he criticized the Catholic religion, replied bitterly that he was a miserable wretch with whom no Christian should associate; that one day, divine retribution would catch up with him for his disrespect; and that his heart was encased in a material harder than iron, which only hellfire could melt.
It was now broad day, and all the servants of the inn were afoot. Peregrine, seeing it would be impossible to obtain any sort of indemnification for the time he had lost, and the perturbation of his spirits hindering him from enjoying repose, which was moreover obstructed by the noise of Pallet and his attendants, put on his clothes at once, and, in exceeding ill-humour, arrived at the spot where this triumvirate stood debating about the means of overpowering the furious painter, who still continued his song of oaths and execrations, and made sundry efforts to break open the door. Chagrined as our hero was, he could not help laughing when he heard how the patient had been treated; and his indignation changing into compassion, he called to him through the keyhole, desiring to know the reason of his distracted behaviour. Pallet no sooner recognized his voice than, lowering his own to a whimpering tone, “My dear friend!” said he, “I have at last detected the ruffians who have persecuted me so much. I caught them in the fact of suffocating me with cold water; and by the Lord, I will be revenged, or may I never live to finish my Cleopatra. For the love of God! open the door, and I will make that conceited pagan, that pretender to taste, that false devotee of the ancients, who poisons people with sillykicabies and devil's dung—I say, I will make him a monument of my wrath, and an example to all the cheats and impostors of the faculty; and as for that thick-headed insolent pedant, his confederate, who emptied my own jordan upon me while I slept, he had better have been in his beloved Paris, botching schemes for his friend the Pretender, than incur the effects of my resentment. Gadsbodikins! I won't leave him a windpipe for the hangman to stop, at the end of another rebellion.”
It was now broad daylight, and all the inn's staff were up and about. Peregrine, realizing it would be impossible to get any compensation for the time he had lost and that his frustration was preventing him from relaxing—especially with the noise from Pallet and his crew—quickly got dressed. In a very bad mood, he made his way to where this trio was debating how to take down the furious painter, who was still singing a mix of curses and expletives while trying to break open the door. Even though he was feeling annoyed, Peregrine couldn’t help but laugh when he heard how the patient was being treated. His anger shifted to sympathy, and he called out to him through the keyhole, wanting to know what was causing his frantic behavior. As soon as Pallet recognized his voice, he lowered his tone to a whimper and said, “My dear friend! I’ve finally uncovered the scoundrels who have tormented me so much. I caught them trying to drown me with cold water; and by God, I will get my revenge, or I might as well never finish my Cleopatra. Please, open the door, and I’ll make that arrogant fool, that pretender to taste, that false worshipper of the ancients, who poisons people with silly tricks and nonsense—I mean, I’ll make him a target of my fury and an example for all the frauds and impostors in the business. And as for that thick-headed, insolent scholar, his partner, who dumped my own chamber pot on me while I slept, he’d be better off in his beloved Paris, working on schemes for his friend the Pretender, than facing the consequences of my wrath. Gadsbodikins! I won’t leave him a breath to spare for the hangman at the end of another rebellion.”
Pickle told him his conduct had been so extravagant as to confirm the whole company in the belief that he was actually deprived of his senses: on which supposition, Mr. Jolter and the doctor had acted the part of friends, in doing that which they thought most conducive to his recovery: so that their concern merited his thankful acknowledgment, instead of his frantic menaces: that, for his own part, he would be the first to condemn him, as one utterly bereft of his wits, and give orders for his being secured as a madman, unless he would immediately give a proof of his sanity by laying aside his sword, composing his spirits, and thanking his injured friends for their care of his person.
Pickle told him that his behavior had been so outrageous that it convinced everyone that he had completely lost his mind. Because of this belief, Mr. Jolter and the doctor acted like friends, doing what they thought would help him recover. Their concern deserved his gratitude, not his wild threats. As for himself, he would be the first to declare him insane and order his confinement as a madman unless he quickly showed he was sane by putting down his sword, calming himself down, and thanking his concerned friends for looking after him.
This alternative quieted his transports in a moment: he was terrified at the apprehension of being treated like a bedlamite, being dubious of the state of his own brain; and, on the other hand, had conceived such a horror and antipathy for his tormentors, that, far from believing himself obliged by what they had done, he could not even think of them without the utmost rage and detestation. He, therefore, in the most tranquil voice he could assume, protested that he never was less out of his senses than at present, though he did not know how long he might retain them, if he should be considered in the light of a lunatic: that, in order to prove his being Compos mentis, he was willing to sacrifice the resentment he so justly harboured against those who, by their malice, had brought him to this pass; but, as he apprehended it would be the greatest sign of madness he could exhibit to thank them for the mischiefs they had brought upon him, he desired to be excused from making any such concession; and swore he would endure everything rather than be guilty of such mean absurdity.
This alternative calmed him down instantly: he was scared at the thought of being treated like a crazy person, unsure of his own sanity; and, on the other hand, he had developed such a strong disgust and hatred for his tormentors that, instead of feeling grateful for what they had done, he couldn't even think of them without feeling intense anger and loathing. So, in the calmest voice he could muster, he insisted that he was never more sane than he was at that moment, even though he didn't know how long he could stay that way if he was seen as a lunatic. To prove he was of sound mind, he was willing to set aside the anger he rightfully felt toward those whose malice had brought him to this state; however, since he believed it would be the biggest sign of madness to thank them for the harm they had caused him, he asked to be excused from offering any such concession; and he swore he would endure anything rather than commit such a ridiculous absurdity.
Peregrine held a consultation upon this reply, when the governor and physician strenuously argued against any capitulation with a maniac, and proposed that some method might be taken to seize, fetter, and convey him into a dark room, where he might be treated according to the rules of art; but the Capuchin, understanding the circumstances of the case, undertook to restore him to his former state, without having recourse to such violent measures. Pickle, who was a better judge of the affair than any person present, opened the door without further hesitation, and displayed the poor painter standing with a woeful countenance, shivering in his shirt, which was as wet as if he had been dragged through the Dender:—a spectacle which gave such offence to the chaste eyes of the Hebrew's mistress, who was by this time one of the spectators, that she turned her head another way, and withdrew to her own room, exclaiming against the indecent practices of men.
Peregrine discussed this response, while the governor and the physician strongly argued against negotiating with a madman. They suggested finding a way to capture, restrain, and take him to a dark room, where he could be treated properly. However, the Capuchin, understanding the situation, offered to help restore him to his former self without resorting to such harsh methods. Pickle, who had a better understanding of the situation than anyone else there, opened the door without hesitation and revealed the poor painter standing with a distressed expression, shivering in his shirt, which was as wet as if he had been dragged through the Dender. This sight offended the modesty of the Hebrew's mistress, who was now among the spectators; she turned away and retreated to her own room, complaining about the disgraceful behavior of men.
Pallet, seeing the young gentleman enter, ran to him, and, taking him by the hands, called him his best friend, and said he had rescued him from those who had a design against his life. The priest would have produced his parings and applied them to his nose, but was hindered by Pickle, who advised the patient to shift himself, and put on his clothes. This being done with great order and deliberation, Mr. Jolter who, with the doctor, had kept a wary distance, in expectation of seeing some storage effects of his distraction, began to believe that he had been guilty of a mistake, and accused the physician of having misled him by his false diagnostic. The doctor still insisted upon his former declaration assuring him, that although Pallet enjoyed a short interval for the present, the delirium would soon recur, unless they would profit by this momentary calm, and order him to be blooded, blistered, and purged with all imaginable despatch.
Pallet, seeing the young man walk in, ran up to him, grabbed his hands, and called him his best friend, saying he had saved him from those who were out to get him. The priest wanted to give him some of his trimmed nails to put on his nose, but Pickle stopped him, suggesting that the patient should get up and put on his clothes. Once that was done carefully and deliberately, Mr. Jolter, who had been keeping a cautious distance with the doctor, expecting to see some signs of the man's breakdown, started to think he might have made a mistake and blamed the physician for misleading him with a wrong diagnosis. The doctor still insisted on his earlier statement, assuring him that even though Pallet was having a brief moment of clarity right now, the delirium would return soon unless they took advantage of this temporary calm and ordered him to be bled, blistered, and purged as quickly as possible.
The governor, however, notwithstanding this caution, advanced to the injured party, and begged pardon for the share he had in giving him such disturbance. He declared, in the most solemn manner, that he had no other intention than that of contributing towards his welfare; and that his behaviour was the result of the physician's prescription, which he affirmed was absolutely necessary for the recovery of his health.
The governor, despite this caution, approached the injured party and apologized for the role he played in causing him such distress. He stated, in the most serious way, that he only intended to help him and that his actions were based on the doctor's orders, which he insisted were essential for his recovery.
The painter, who had very little gall in his disposition, was satisfied with this apology; but his resentment, which was before divided, now glowed with double fire against his first fellow-traveller, whom he looked upon as the author of all the mischances he had undergone, and marked out for his vengeance accordingly. Yet the doors of reconciliation were not shut against the doctor, who, with great justice, might have transferred this load of offence from himself to Peregrine, who was, without doubt, the source of the painter's misfortune: but, in that case, he must have owned himself mistaken in his medical capacity, and he did not think the friendship of Pallet important enough to be retrieved by such condescension; so that he resolved to neglect him entirely, and gradually forget the former correspondence he had maintained with a person whom he deemed so unworthy of his notice.
The painter, who wasn’t easily offended, accepted this apology; however, his anger, which had previously been split, now burned even stronger against his first travel companion, whom he saw as the cause of all his troubles, and he marked him for revenge. Still, the door to reconciliation wasn’t completely closed for the doctor, who could rightly have shifted this burden of blame onto Peregrine, who was undoubtedly the source of the painter's misfortunes. But to do so would mean admitting he was wrong in his medical judgment, and he didn’t believe Pallet’s friendship was important enough to warrant such a concession. So, he decided to ignore him completely and gradually forget the previous relationship he had maintained with someone he considered unworthy of his attention.
CHAPTER LVIII.
Peregrine, almost distracted with his Disappointment, conjures the fair Fleming to permit his Visits at Brussels—She withdraws from his Pursuit.
Peregrine, nearly overwhelmed by his disappointment, asks the beautiful Fleming to allow him to visit her in Brussels—she pulls away from his pursuit.
Things being thus adjusted, and all the company dressed, they went to breakfast about five in the morning; and in less than an hour after were seated in the diligence, where a profound silence prevailed. Peregrine, who used to be the life of the society, was extremely pensive and melancholy on account of his mishap, the Israelite and his dulcinea dejected in consequence of their disgrace, the poet absorbed in lofty meditation, the painter in schemes of revenge; while Jolter, rocked by the motion of the carriage, made himself amends for the want of rest he had sustained; and the mendicant, with his fair charge, were infected by the cloudy aspect of our youth, in whose disappointment each of them, for different reasons, bore no inconsiderable share. This general languor and recess from all bodily exercise disposed them all to receive the gentle yoke of slumber; and in half-an-hour after they had embarked, there was not one of them awake, except our hero and his mistress, unless the Capuchin was pleased to counterfeit sleep, in order to indulge our young gentleman with an opportunity of enjoying some private conversation with his beauteous ward.
With everything set and everyone dressed, they went to breakfast around five in the morning; and less than an hour later, they were seated in the coach, where a heavy silence hung in the air. Peregrine, who was usually the life of the party, was very thoughtful and downcast because of his recent troubles, while the Israelite and his girlfriend were feeling low due to their shame. The poet was lost in deep thought, the painter was plotting revenge, and Jolter, swaying with the motion of the carriage, was catching up on the rest he had missed. The beggar, along with his lovely charge, was affected by the gloomy mood of the young people, each of whom, for various reasons, shared in their disappointment. This general tiredness and lack of physical activity made them all prone to the gentle weight of sleep, and half an hour after they set off, none of them were awake except for our hero and his beautiful companion, unless the Capuchin was pretending to sleep to give our young gentleman a chance for some private conversation with his lovely ward.
Peregrine did not neglect the occasion; but, on the contrary, seized the first minute, and, in gentle murmurs, lamented his hard hap in being thus the sport of fortune. He assured her, and that with great sincerity, that all the cross accidents of his life had not cost him one half of the vexation and keenness of chagrin which he had suffered last night; and that now he was on the brink of parting from her, he should be overwhelmed with the blackest despair, if she would not extend her compassion so far as to give him an opportunity of sighing at her feet in Brussels, during the few days his affairs would permit him to spend in that city. This young lady, with an air of mortification, expressed her sorrow for being the innocent cause of his anxiety; said she hoped last night's adventure would be a salutary warning to both their souls; for she was persuaded, that her virtue was protected by the intervention of Heaven; that whatever impression it might have made upon him, she was enabled by it to adhere to that duty from which her passion had begun to swerve; and, beseeching him to forget her for his own peace, gave him to understand, that neither the plan she had laid down for her own conduct, nor the dictates of her honour, would allow her to receive his visits, or carry on any other correspondence with him, while she was restricted by the articles of her marriage-vow.
Peregrine didn’t miss the opportunity; instead, he took the first moment to softly express his frustration about his unfortunate fate. He honestly assured her that all the struggles he had faced in his life hadn’t caused him even half the distress and heartache he had felt the previous night. Now, as he was about to part from her, he would be consumed by the deepest despair if she didn’t show him some compassion by allowing him to sigh at her feet in Brussels during the few days he could spend in the city. The young lady, looking somewhat distressed, apologized for being the innocent cause of his anxiety. She said she hoped last night’s experience would serve as a valuable lesson for both of them. She believed her virtue was protected by divine intervention and that whatever effect it might have had on him, it helped her stay committed to her duty despite her feelings. Asking him to forget her for his own peace of mind, she made it clear that neither her plans for her conduct nor the demands of her honor would let her accept his visits or maintain any other contact with him while she was bound by her marriage vows.
This explanation produced such a violent effect upon her admirer, that he was for some minutes deprived of the faculty of speech; which he no sooner recovered, than he gave vent to the most unbridled transports of passion. He taxed her with barbarity and indifference; told her, that she had robbed him of his reason and internal peace; that he would follow her to the ends of the earth, and cease to live sooner than cease to love her; that he would sacrifice the innocent fool who had been the occasion of all this disquiet, and murder every man whom he considered as an obstruction to his views. In a word, his passions, which had continued so long in a state of the highest fermentation, together with the want of that repose which calms and quiets the perturbation of the spirits, had wrought him up to a pitch of real distraction. While he uttered these delirious expressions, the tears ran down his cheeks; and he underwent such agitation that the tender heart of the fair Fleming was affected with his condition: and, while her own face was bedewed with the streams of sympathy, she begged him, for Heaven's sake, to be composed; and promised, for his satisfaction, to abate somewhat of the rigour of her purpose. Consoled by this kind declaration, he recollected himself; and, taking out his pencil, gave her his address, when she had assured him, that he should hear from her in four-and-twenty hours, at farthest, after their separation.
This explanation had such a strong impact on her admirer that he was speechless for a few minutes. As soon as he regained his voice, he let out a flood of unrestrained emotion. He accused her of being cruel and indifferent, told her that she had taken away his reason and peace of mind, and that he would follow her to the ends of the earth and stop living before he would stop loving her. He claimed he would eliminate the innocent fool who caused all this turmoil and harm anyone he saw as an obstacle to his desires. In short, his emotions, which had been building up for so long without any calm to ease his troubled mind, pushed him to the brink of madness. As he expressed these frantic words, tears streamed down his face, and the kind-hearted fair Fleming was moved by his distress. With her own face wet with tears of empathy, she pleaded with him to calm down and promised, to ease his mind, that she would soften her stance a little. Comforted by this kind promise, he collected himself and took out his pencil to give her his address, after she assured him that he would hear from her within twenty-four hours at the latest after they parted.
Thus soothed, he regained the empire of himself, and, by degrees, recovered his serenity. But this was not the case with his Amanda, who, from this sample of his disposition, dreaded the impetuosity of his youth, and was effectually deterred from entering into any engagements that might subject her peace and reputation to the rash effects of such a violent spirit. Though she was captivated by his person and accomplishments, she had reflection enough to foresee, that the longer she countenanced his passion, her own heart would be more and more irretrievably engaged, and the quiet of her life the more exposed to continual interruption. She therefore profited by these considerations, and a sense of religious honour, which helped her to withstand the suggestions of inclination; and resolved to amuse her lover with false hopes, until she should have it in her power to relinquish his conversation, without running any risk of suffering by the inconsiderate sallies of his love. It was with this view that she desired he would not insist upon attending her to her mother's house, when they arrived at Brussels; and he, cajoled by her artifice, took a formal leave of her, together with the other strangers, fixing his habitation at the inn to which he and his fellow-travellers had been directed, in the impatient expectation of receiving a kind summons from her within the limited time.
Thus reassured, he regained control of himself and gradually found his calm again. But this wasn’t the case for Amanda, who, from this glimpse of his nature, feared the impulsiveness of his youth and was effectively dissuaded from committing to any relationships that might jeopardize her peace and reputation due to the rash actions of such a hot-tempered individual. Although she was drawn to his looks and talents, she was wise enough to predict that the longer she entertained his affection, the more her own heart would become hopelessly involved, leaving her life increasingly vulnerable to constant disruptions. Therefore, she took these thoughts to heart, along with a sense of moral duty that helped her resist the temptations of desire, and decided to keep her lover entertained with false hopes until she could walk away from their conversations without the risk of suffering from his reckless displays of love. With this in mind, she asked him not to insist on coming with her to her mother’s house when they arrived in Brussels. He, deceived by her trickery, formally bid her farewell along with the other travelers, settling into the inn directed to him and his companions, anxiously hoping to receive a warm invitation from her within the specified time.
Meanwhile, in order to divert his imagination, he went to see the stadthouse, park, and arsenal, took a superficial view of the booksellers' cabinet of curiosities, and spent the evening at the Italian opera, which was at that time exhibited for the entertainment of Prince Charles of Lorraine, then governor of the Low Countries. In short, the stated period was almost lapsed when Peregrine received a letter to this purport:—
Meanwhile, to distract himself, he went to check out the city hall, the park, and the arsenal, took a quick look at the booksellers' cabinet of curiosities, and spent the evening at the Italian opera, which was then being performed for the enjoyment of Prince Charles of Lorraine, who was the governor of the Low Countries at the time. In short, the designated period was almost over when Peregrine received a letter saying this:—
“Sir,—If you knew what violence I do my own heart, in
declaring, that I have withdrawn myself for ever from your
addresses, you would surely applaud the sacrifice I make to
virtue, and strive to imitate this example of self-denial.
Yes, sir, Heaven hath lent me grace to struggle with my guilty
passion, and henceforth to avoid the dangerous sight of him,
who inspired it. I therefore conjure you, by the regard you
ought to have to the eternal welfare of us both, as well as by
the esteem and affection you profess, to war with your unruly
inclination, and desist from all attempts of frustrating the
laudable resolution I have made. Seek not to invade the peace
of one who loves you, to disturb the quiet of a family that
never did you wrong, and to alienate the thoughts of a weak
woman from a deserving man, who, by the most sacred claim,
ought to have the full possession of her heart.”
“Sir, if you knew how much I hurt my own heart by saying that I have completely withdrawn myself from your advances, you would surely appreciate the sacrifice I’m making for the sake of virtue and strive to follow my example of self-control. Yes, sir, Heaven has given me the strength to fight my guilty feelings and to avoid the dangerous sight of the one who inspired them. I therefore urge you, considering the concern you should have for both our eternal well-being, as well as the esteem and affection you say you have for me, to battle your unruly desires and stop all attempts to undermine the honorable decision I’ve made. Do not try to invade the peace of someone who cares for you, disturb the tranquility of a family that has never wronged you, or turn the thoughts of a vulnerable woman away from a deserving man, who, by the most sacred right, should have her full love.”
This billet, without either date or subscription, banished all remains of discretion from the mind of our hero, who ran instantly to the landlord in all the ecstasy of madness, and demanded to see the messenger who brought the letter on pain of putting his whole family to the sword. The innkeeper, terrified by his looks and menaces, fell upon his knees, protesting in the face of Heaven that he was utterly ignorant and innocent of anything that could give him offence, and that the billet was brought by a person whom he did not know, and who retired immediately, saying it required no answer. He then gave utterance to his fury in a thousand imprecations and invectives against the writer, whom he dishonoured with the appellations of a coquette, a jilt, an adventurer, who, by means of a pimping priest, had defrauded him of his money. He denounced vengeance against the mendicant, whom he swore he would destroy if ever he should set eyes on him again.
This note, without any date or signature, drove all sense of discretion out of our hero's mind. He instantly ran to the innkeeper, consumed with rage, and demanded to see the messenger who delivered the letter, threatening to kill his entire family if he didn't. The innkeeper, terrified by his appearance and threats, fell to his knees, swearing to Heaven that he had no idea what might have offended him and that the note was delivered by someone he didn’t know, who left right away, stating it didn’t require a response. He then unleashed his fury with a barrage of curses and insults aimed at the sender, calling them a flirt, a scam artist, and a con artist who, through the help of a sleazy priest, had swindled him out of his money. He vowed to take revenge on the beggar, promising to destroy him if he ever laid eyes on him again.
The painter unluckily appearing during this paroxysm of rage, he seized him by the throat, saying he was ruined by his accursed folly; and in all likelihood poor Pallet would have been strangled had not Jolter interposed in his behalf, beseeching his pupil to have mercy upon the sufferer, and, with infinite anxiety, desiring to know the cause of this violent assault. He received no answer but a string of incoherent curses. When the painter, with unspeakable astonishment, took God to witness that he had done nothing to disoblige him, the governor began to think, in sad earnest, that Peregrine's vivacity had at length risen to the transports of actual madness, and was himself almost distracted with this supposition. That he might the better judge what remedy ought to be applied, he used his whole influence, and practised all his eloquence upon the youth, in order to learn the immediate cause of his delirium. He employed the most pathetic entreaties, and even shed tears in the course of his supplication; so that Pickle, the first violence of the hurricane being blown over, was ashamed of his own imprudence, and retired to his chamber in order to recollect his dissipated thoughts; there he shut himself up, and for the second time perusing the fatal epistle, began to waver in his opinion of the author's character and intention. He sometimes considered her as one of those nymphs, who, under the mask of innocence and simplicity, practise upon the hearts and purses of unwary and inexperienced youths: this was the suggestion of his wrath inflamed by disappointment; but when he reflected upon the circumstances of her behaviour, and recalled her particular charms to his imagination, the severity of his censure gave way and his heart declared in favour of her sincerity.
The painter, who unfortunately showed up during this outburst of rage, was grabbed by the throat, with the accusation that he was ruined by his cursed foolishness; and likely, poor Pallet would have been choked to death if Jolter hadn’t stepped in to defend him, pleading with his student to show mercy to the victim and anxiously wanting to know the reason for this violent attack. He got no response besides a series of jumbled curses. When the painter, in utter disbelief, swore that he had done nothing to offend Peregrine, the governor started to seriously worry that Peregrine’s energy had finally escalated into full-blown madness, and he himself was nearly driven crazy by this thought. To better assess what remedy to propose, he used all his influence and eloquence on the young man to discover the immediate cause of his madness. He made the most heartfelt pleas and even shed tears while begging; as a result, once the initial storm of emotions passed, Pickle felt embarrassed about his own rashness and retreated to his room to gather his scattered thoughts. Once there, he locked himself in and re-read the troublesome letter, starting to doubt the author’s character and intentions. At times, he viewed her as one of those girls who, hiding behind a façade of innocence and simplicity, prey on the hearts and wallets of unsuspecting young men: this was the result of his anger stirred by disappointment. However, when he thought about how she had acted and recalled her specific charms, the harshness of his judgment softened, and his heart began to side with her sincerity.
Yet even this consideration aggravated the sense of his loss, and he was in danger of relapsing into his former distraction, when his passion was a little becalmed by the hope of seeing her again, either by accident or in the course of a diligent and minute inquiry, which he forthwith resolved to set on foot. He had reason to believe that her own heart would espouse his cause in spite of her virtue's determination; and did not despair of meeting with the Capuchin, whose good offices he knew he could at any time command. Comforted with these reflections, the tempest of his soul subsided. In less than two hours he joined his company with an air of composure, and asked the painter's forgiveness for the freedom he had taken, the cause of which he promised hereafter to explain. Pallet was glad of being reconciled on any terms to one whose countenance supported him in equilibrio with his antagonist the doctor; and Mr. Jolter was rejoiced beyond measure at his pupil's recovery.
Yet even this thought made his sense of loss worse, and he was close to falling back into his previous state of distraction when his feelings were slightly calmed by the hope of seeing her again, either by chance or through a thorough and careful search, which he immediately decided to start. He believed that her heart would support his cause despite her virtue's resolve; and he didn’t lose hope of encountering the Capuchin, whose help he knew he could count on at any moment. Comforted by these thoughts, the storm in his soul settled down. In less than two hours, he joined his friends with a composed demeanor and asked the painter for forgiveness for the liberties he had taken, promising to explain the reason later. Pallet was happy to be reconciled with someone whose presence balanced him against his rival, the doctor; and Mr. Jolter was overjoyed at his pupil's recovery.
CHAPTER LIX.
Peregrine meets with Mrs. Hornbeck, and is consoled for his Loss—His Valet-de-chambre is embroiled with her Duenna, whom, however, he finds means to appease.
Peregrine meets with Mrs. Hornbeck and receives comfort for his loss. His servant gets into a conflict with her chaperone, but he manages to smooth things over.
Everything having thus resumed its natural channel, they dined together in great tranquility. In the afternoon, Peregrine, on pretence of staying at home to write letters, while his companions were at the coffee-house, ordered a coach to be called, and, with his valet-de-chambre, who was the only person acquainted with the present state of his thoughts, set out for the promenade, to which all the ladies of fashion resort in the evening during the summer season, in hopes of seeing his fugitive among the rest.
Everything having returned to normal, they enjoyed dinner together in peace. In the afternoon, Peregrine, pretending to stay home to write letters while his friends were at the coffeehouse, asked for a coach to be brought around. Accompanied only by his servant, who was the only one aware of his current thoughts, he headed to the promenade where all the fashionable ladies gathered in the evening during summer, hoping to catch a glimpse of his missing companion among them.
Having made a circuit round the walk, and narrowly observed every female in the place, he perceived at some distance the livery of Hornbeck upon a lacquey that stood at the back of a coach; upon which he ordered his man to reconnoitre the said carriage, while he pulled up his glasses, that he might not be discovered before he should have received some intelligence by which he might conduct himself on this unexpected occasion, that already began to interfere with the purpose of his coming thither, though it could not dispute his attention with the idea of his charming unknown.
After walking around and closely watching every woman there, he noticed at a distance the uniform of Hornbeck on a servant standing at the back of a coach. He instructed his man to check out the carriage while he adjusted his glasses, so he wouldn't be seen before he gathered some information to guide him in this unexpected situation, which was already starting to distract him from his original purpose for being there, although he couldn't shake thoughts of his captivating unknown.
His Mercury, having made his observations, reported that there was nobody in the coach but Mrs. Hornbeck and an elderly woman, who had all the air of a duenna; and that the servant was not the same footman who had attended them in France. Encouraged by this information, our hero ordered himself to be driven close up to that side of their convenience on which his old mistress sat, and accosted her with the usual salutation. This lady no sooner beheld her gallant than her cheeks reddened with a double glow, and she exclaimed, “Dear brother, I am overjoyed to see you! Pray come into our coach.” He took the hint immediately, and, complying with her request, embraced this new sister with great affection.
His Mercury, after making his observations, reported that there was nobody in the coach except Mrs. Hornbeck and an elderly woman who seemed like a duenna; and that the servant was not the same footman who had attended them in France. Encouraged by this news, our hero had himself driven right up to the side of their vehicle where his old mistress was sitting and greeted her with the usual salutation. As soon as this lady saw her gallant, her cheeks flushed with a double glow, and she exclaimed, “Dear brother, I’m so happy to see you! Please come into our coach.” He immediately took the hint and, complying with her request, embraced this new sister with great affection.
Perceiving that her attendant was very much surprised and alarmed at this unexpected meeting, she, in order to banish her suspicion, and at the same time give her lover his cue, told him that his brother (meaning her husband) was gone to the Spa for a few weeks, by the advice of physicians, on account of his ill state of health; and that, from his last letter, she had the pleasure to tell him he was in a fair way of doing well. The young gentleman expressed his satisfaction at this piece of news; observing, with an air of fraternal concern, that if his brother had not made too free with his constitution, his friends in England would have had no occasion to repine at his absence and want of health, by which he was banished from his own country and connections. He then asked, with an affectation of surprise, why she had not accompanied her spouse, and was given to understand that his tenderness of affection would not suffer him to expose her to the fatigues of the journey, which lay among rocks that were almost inaccessible.
Seeing that her attendant was very surprised and worried by this unexpected meeting, she tried to ease her suspicion while also giving her lover a signal. She told him that his brother (referring to her husband) had gone to the Spa for a few weeks, as advised by doctors, due to his poor health. From his last letter, she was happy to report that he was on the mend. The young man expressed his relief at this news, adding, with a concerned tone, that if his brother hadn't overdone it with his health, his friends in England wouldn't have had to worry about his absence and illness, which had forced him away from his homeland and connections. He then feigned surprise and asked why she hadn't gone with her husband, and was informed that his affection for her prevented him from putting her through the hardships of the journey, which involved nearly impassable rocks.
The duenna's doubts being eased by this preamble of conversation, he changed the subject to the pleasures of the place; and, among other such questions, inquired if she had as yet visited Versailles. This is a public-house, situated upon the canal, at the distance of about two miles from town, and accommodated with tolerable gardens, for the entertainment of company. When she replied in the negative, he proposed to accompany her thither immediately; but the governante, who had hitherto sat silent, objected to this proposal; telling them, in broken English, that as the lady was under her care, she could not answer to Mr. Hornbeck for allowing her to visit such a suspicious place. “As for that matter, madam,” said the confident gallant, “give yourself no trouble; the consequences shall be at my peril; and I will undertake to insure you against my brother's resentment.” So saying, he directed the coachman to the place, and ordered his own to follow, under the auspices of his valet-de-chambre; while the old gentlewoman, overruled by his assurance, quietly submitted to his authority.
The duenna's worries eased by this conversation starter, he switched to talking about the fun things to do in the area. Among other questions, he asked if she had visited Versailles yet. It’s a tavern located on the canal about two miles from town, with decent gardens for entertaining guests. When she said no, he suggested they go there right away. However, the governess, who had been quietly listening, disagreed with this idea. In broken English, she told them that since the lady was under her care, she couldn’t be responsible to Mr. Hornbeck for letting her visit such a questionable place. “Don’t worry about that, ma’am,” the confident suitor replied. “Take it easy; any consequences will be on me, and I guarantee you’ll be safe from my brother’s anger.” With that, he signaled the coachman to head to the tavern and instructed his coach to follow, guided by his valet, while the old woman, swayed by his confidence, reluctantly accepted his decision.
Being arrived at the place, he handed the ladies from the coach, and then, for the first time, observed that the duenna was lame, a circumstance of which he did not scruple to take the advantage; for they had scarce alighted, and drunk a glass of wine, when he advised his sister to enjoy a walk in the garden; and although the attendant made shift to keep them almost always in view, they enjoyed a detached conversation, in which Peregrine learned that the true cause of her being left behind at Brussels, whilst her husband proceeded to Spa, was his dread of the company and familiarities of that place, to which his jealousy durst not expose her; and that she had lived three weeks in a convent at Lisle, from which she was delivered by his own free motion, because indeed he could no longer exist without her company; and, lastly, our lover understood that her governante was a mere dragon, who had been recommended to him by a Spanish merchant, whose wife she attended to her dying day; but she very much questioned whether or not her fidelity was proof enough against money and strong waters. Peregrine assured her the experiment should be tried before parting; and they agreed to pass the night at Versailles, provided his endeavours should succeed.
Arriving at the location, he helped the ladies out of the coach and, for the first time, noticed that the duenna was lame, a fact he didn't hesitate to exploit. They had barely gotten out and sipped a glass of wine when he suggested to his sister that they take a walk in the garden. Even though the duenna made an effort to keep them mostly in sight, they managed to have a private conversation, during which Peregrine discovered that the real reason she had stayed behind in Brussels while her husband went to Spa was his fear of the people and the atmosphere there, which his jealousy wouldn't allow her to face. She revealed that she had spent three weeks in a convent in Lisle, from which she was released by her husband’s own decision, as he could no longer live without her. Finally, Peregrine learned that her governess was quite strict, recommended to him by a Spanish merchant whose wife she served until her last day, but she doubted whether her loyalty could withstand the temptations of money and strong drinks. Peregrine assured her that they would put that to the test before parting, and they agreed to spend the night in Versailles, provided his efforts proved successful.
Having exercised themselves in this manner, until his duenna's spirits were pretty much exhausted, that she might be the better disposed to recruit them with a glass of liqueur, they returned to their apartment, and the cordial was recommended and received in a bumper; but as it did not produce such a visible alteration as the sanguine hopes of Pickle had made him expect, and the old gentlewoman observed that it began to be late, and that the gates would be shut in a little time, he filled up a parting glass, and pledged her in equal quantity. Her blood was too much chilled to be warmed even by this extraordinary dose, which made immediate innovation in the brain of our youth, who, in the gaiety of his imagination, overwhelmed this she-Argus with such profusion of gallantry, that she was more intoxicated with his expressions than with the spirits she had drunk. When in the course of toying he dropped a purse into her bosom, she seemed to forget how the night wore, and, with the approbation of her charge, assented to his proposal of having something for supper.
Having spent some time doing this, until his duenna was quite worn out, so she'd be more willing to enjoy a glass of liqueur, they returned to their room. The drink was suggested and enjoyed in a big gulp; however, since it didn't show the noticeable effects that Pickle had hoped for, and the old lady noticed it was getting late and that the gates would soon close, he poured her a farewell drink and drank the same amount with her. Her blood was too cold to be warmed even by this hefty dose, which had an immediate effect on the young man's mind. In his cheerful state, he overwhelmed her with so much flattery that she was more intoxicated by his words than by the drink. When he playfully dropped a purse into her bosom, she seemed to forget about the time and, with her charge's approval, agreed to his suggestion of having something for supper.
This was a great point which our adventurer had gained; and yet he plainly perceived that the governante mistook his meaning, by giving herself credit for all the passion he had professed. As this error could be rectified by no other means than those of plying her with the bottle, until her distinguishing faculties should be overpowered, he promoted a quick circulation. She did him justice, without any manifest signs of inebriation, so long, that his own eyes began to reel in the sockets, and he found that before his scheme could be accomplished, he should be effectually unfitted for all the purposes of love. He therefore had recourse to his valet-de-chambre, who understood the hint as soon as it was given, and readily undertook to perform the part of which his master had played the prelude. This affair being settled to his satisfaction, and the night at odds with morning, he took an opportunity of imparting to the ear of this aged dulcinea a kind whisper, importing a promise of visiting her when his sister should be retired to her own chamber, and an earnest desire of leaving her door unlocked.
This was a significant advantage that our adventurer had gained; yet he clearly realized that the governante misunderstood his intentions by crediting herself for all the feelings he had expressed. Since there was no way to correct this misunderstanding other than by getting her tipsy until her senses were dulled, he encouraged a quick flow of drinks. She was fair to him, showing no obvious signs of drunkenness, but his own vision was starting to blur, and he realized that before his plan could succeed, he would need to avoid being too impaired for romantic pursuits. He then turned to his valet, who caught on to the hint immediately and willingly agreed to take on the role his master had initiated. Once this matter was settled to his liking, and the night was turning into morning, he took the opportunity to lean in and quietly whisper to this older lady a promise that he would visit her when his sister was safely in her own room, and a strong request to leave her door unlocked.
This agreeable intimation being communicated, he conveyed a caution of the same nature to Mrs. Hornbeck, as he led her to her apartment; and darkness and silence no sooner prevailed in the house, than he and his trusted squire set out on their different voyages. Everything would have succeeded according to their wish, had not the valet-de-chambre suffered himself to fall asleep at the side of his inamorata, and, in the agitation of a violent dream, exclaimed in a voice so unlike that of her supposed adorer, that she distinguished the difference at once. Waking him with a pinch and a loud shriek, she threatened to prosecute him for a rape, and reviled him with all the epithets her rage and disappointment could suggest.
This pleasant message being shared, he gave a similar warning to Mrs. Hornbeck as he walked her to her room; and as soon as night fell and the house became quiet, he and his loyal friend embarked on their separate journeys. Everything would have gone according to their plan if the valet hadn't dozed off next to his love interest, and in the turmoil of a bad dream, he shouted in a voice so different from what she expected that she recognized the difference immediately. Waking him with a pinch and a loud scream, she threatened to have him charged with assault, hurling all the insults her anger and disappointment could come up with.
The Frenchman, finding himself detected, behaved with great temper and address: he begged she would compose herself, on account of her own reputation, which was extremely dear to him; protesting that he had a most inviolable esteem for her person. His representations had weight with the duenna, who, upon recollection, comprehended the whole affair, and thought it would be her interest to bring matters to an accommodation. She therefore admitted the apologies of her bed-fellow, provided he would promise to atone by marriage for the injury she had sustained; and in this particular he set her heart at ease by repeated vows, which he uttered with surprising volubility, though without any intention to perform the least title of their contents.
The Frenchman, realizing he had been caught, managed to stay calm and charming. He urged her to relax for the sake of her own reputation, which meant a lot to him, insisting that he held her in the highest regard. His words influenced the duenna, who, upon thinking it over, understood the whole situation and believed it would be in her best interest to resolve things. She accepted the apologies of her companion, as long as he promised to make up for the wrong done by marrying her; in response, he reassured her with repeated promises, delivering them with surprising fluency, though he had no intention of following through on any of them.
Peregrine, who had been alarmed by her exclamation, and ran to the door with a view of interposing according to the emergency of the case, overhearing the affair thus compromised, returned to his mistress, who was highly entertained with an account of what had passed, foreseeing that for the future she should be under no difficulty or restriction from the severity of her guard.
Peregrine, startled by her shout, rushed to the door to intervene as the situation called for it, but after hearing how things had played out, he returned to his mistress, who was thoroughly amused by the whole episode, realizing that moving forward she wouldn't face any trouble or constraints from the strictness of her guard.
CHAPTER LX.
Hornbeck is informed of his Wife's Adventure with Peregrine, for whom he prepares a Stratagem, which is rendered ineffectual by the Information of Pipes—The Husband is ducked for his Intention, and our Hero apprehended by the Patrol.
Hornbeck learns about his wife's affair with Peregrine, for whom he devises a plan, which is thwarted by Pipes' information. The husband is punished for his intentions, and our hero is captured by the patrol.
There was another person, however, still ungained; and that was no other than her footman, whose secrecy our hero attempted to secure in the morning by a handsome present, which he received with many professions of gratitude and devotion to his service; yet this complaisance was nothing but a cloak used to disguise the design he harboured of making his master acquainted with the whole transaction. Indeed this lacquey had been hired, not only as a spy upon his mistress, but also as a check on the conduct of the governante, with promise of ample reward if ever he should discover any sinister or suspicious practices in the course of her behaviour. As for the footman whom they had brought from England, he was retained in attendance upon the person of his master, whose confidence he had lost by advising him to gentle methods of reclaiming his lady, when her irregularities had subjected her to his wrath.
There was another person involved, though, who hadn't been won over yet, and that was her footman. Our hero tried to secure his secrecy in the morning with a generous gift, which the footman received with lots of thanks and promises of loyalty. But this friendliness was just a cover for his plan to inform his master about the entire situation. In fact, this servant had been hired not only to spy on his mistress but also to monitor the governess's behavior, with the promise of a significant reward if he ever uncovered any shady or suspicious actions on her part. As for the footman they brought over from England, he was kept around to serve his master but had lost his trust after suggesting gentle ways to win back his lady when her misbehavior had made him angry.
The Flemish valet, in consequence of the office he had undertaken, wrote to Hornbeck by the first post, giving an exact detail of the adventure at Versailles, with such a description of the pretended brother as left the husband no room to think he could be any other person than his first dishonourer; and exasperated him to such a degree, that he resolved to lay an ambush for this invader, and at once disqualify him from disturbing his repose, by maintaining further correspondence with his wife.
The Flemish valet, due to the job he had taken on, wrote to Hornbeck in the first mail, providing a detailed account of the incident at Versailles, with such a description of the fake brother that left the husband with no doubt he could be anyone other than his first betrayer; this infuriated him so much that he decided to set a trap for this intruder and immediately prevent him from disturbing his peace by continuing any communication with his wife.
Meanwhile the lovers enjoyed themselves without restraint, and Peregrine's plan of inquiry after his dear unknown was for the present postponed. His fellow-travellers were confounded at his mysterious motions, which filled the heart of Jolter with anxiety and terror. This careful conductor was fraught with such experience of his pupil's disposition, that he trembled with the apprehension of some sudden accident, and lived in continual alarm, like a man that walks under the wall of a nodding tower. Nor did he enjoy any alleviations of his fears, when, upon telling the young gentleman that the rest of the company were desirous of departing for Antwerp, he answered, they were at liberty to consult their own inclinations; but, for his own part, he was resolved to stay in Brussels a few days longer. By this declaration the governor was confirmed in the opinion of his having some intrigue upon the anvil. In the bitterness of his vexation, he took the liberty of signifying his suspicion, and reminding him of the dangerous dilemmas to which he had been reduced by his former precipitation.
Meanwhile, the lovers had a great time without any limits, and Peregrine’s plan to look for his dear unknown was put on hold for now. His travel companions were confused by his mysterious actions, which filled Jolter's heart with anxiety and fear. This careful guide had enough experience with his pupil's nature that he was trembling with worry about some sudden mishap, living in constant dread, like someone walking under a swaying tower. He didn't feel any relief from his fears when he told the young man that the rest of the group wanted to leave for Antwerp, and he replied that they were free to follow their own wishes; however, for his part, he was determined to stay in Brussels a few more days. This statement only strengthened the governor's belief that he had some secret plan in mind. In the frustration of his worry, he felt compelled to express his suspicions and remind him of the dangerous situations he had faced due to his earlier impulsiveness.
Peregrine took his caution in good part, and promised to behave with such circumspection as would screen him from any troublesome consequences for the future: but, nevertheless, behaved that same evening in such a manner as plainly showed that his prudence was nothing else than vain speculation. He had made an appointment to spend the night, as usual, with Mrs. Hornbeck; and about nine o'clock hastened to her lodgings, when he was accosted in the street by his old discarded friend Thomas Pipes, who, without any other preamble, told him, that for all he had turned him adrift, he did not choose to see him run full sail into his enemy's harbour, without giving him timely notice of the danger. “I'll tell you what,” said he; “mayhap you think I want to curry favour, that I may be taken in tow again; if you do, you have made a mistake in your reckoning. I am old enough to be laid up, and have to keep my planks from the weather. But this here is the affair: I have known you since you were no higher than a marlinspike, and shouldn't care to see you deprived of your rigging at these years; whereby I am informed by Hornbeck's man, whom I this afternoon fell in with by chance, as how his master has got intelligence of your boarding his wife, and has steered privately into this port with a large complement of hands, in order, d'ye see, to secure you while you are under the hatches. Now, if so be as how you have a mind to give him a salt eel for his supper, here am I, without hope of fee or reward, ready to stand by you as long as my timbers will stick together: and if I expect any recompense, may I be bound to eat oakum and drink bilge-water for life.”
Peregrine took his caution seriously and promised to act with such care that it would protect him from any annoying consequences in the future. However, that same evening, he behaved in a way that clearly showed his caution was nothing but empty thinking. He had made plans to spend the night, as usual, with Mrs. Hornbeck, and around nine o'clock, he rushed to her place when he was approached on the street by his old friend Thomas Pipes, whom he had discarded. Without any hesitation, Thomas told him that even though Peregrine had pushed him away, he didn't want to see him sail straight into his enemy's territory without a timely warning about the danger. “Here’s the deal,” he said, “you might think I want to win your favor so I can get back in your good graces, but that’s not the case. I’m old enough to be retired and need to protect what I have. But here’s the thing: I’ve known you since you were just a kid, and I wouldn’t want to see you lose everything at your age. I heard from Hornbeck’s man, whom I ran into by chance this afternoon, that his boss has heard about you seeing his wife and has come back quietly with a lot of men to catch you while you’re off guard. So, if you want to give him a tough time, I’m here, with no hope of payment or reward, ready to help you as long as I can hold it together. And if I expect any payment, may I be forced to eat scraps and drink dirty water for life.”
Startled at this information, Peregrine examined him upon the particulars of his discourse with the lacquey; and when he understood that Hornbeck's intelligence flowed from the canal of his Flemish footman, he believed every circumstance of Tom's report, thanked him for his warning, and, after having reprimanded him for his misbehaviour at Lisle, assured him that it should be his own fault if ever they should part again. He then deliberated with himself whether or not he should retort the purpose upon his adversary; but when he considered that Hornbeck was not the aggressor, and made that unhappy husband's case his own, he could not help quitting his intention of revenge; though, in his opinion, it ought to have been executed in a more honourable manner, and therefore he determined to chastise him for his want of spirit. Nothing surely can be more insolent and unjust than this determination, which induced him to punish a person for his want of courage to redress the injury which he himself had done to his reputation and peace; and yet this barbarity of decision is authorised by the opinion and practice of mankind.
Startled by this news, Peregrine questioned him about the details of his conversation with the servant; and when he realized that Hornbeck's information came from his Flemish footman, he believed everything in Tom's report, thanked him for the heads-up, and, after scolding him for his bad behavior in Lisle, assured him that it would be his own fault if they ever parted ways again. He then thought about whether or not he should retaliate against his opponent; but when he remembered that Hornbeck wasn’t the one who started the conflict and made the situation of the unfortunate husband his own, he couldn’t go through with his plan for revenge. However, he felt that it should have been carried out in a more honorable way, and so he decided to confront him for his lack of spirit. Nothing is more rude and unfair than this decision, which led him to punish someone for not having the courage to fix the damage he himself had caused to his reputation and peace; and yet this cruel reasoning is supported by the views and actions of society.
With these sentiments he returned to the inn, and, putting a pair of pistols in his pocket, ordered his valet-de-chambre and Pipes to follow him at a small distance, so as that they should be within call in case of necessity, and then posted himself within thirty yards of his dulcinea's door. There he had not been above half an hour, when he perceived four men take their station on the other side, with a view, as he guessed, to watch for his going in, that he might be taken unaware. But when they had tarried a considerable time in that corner, without reaping the fruits of their expectation, their leader, persuaded that the gallant had gained admittance by some secret means, approached the door with his followers, who, according to the instructions they had received, no sooner saw it opened, than they rushed in, leaving their employer in the street, where he thought his person would be least endangered. Our adventurer, seeing him all alone, advanced with speed, and clapping a pistol to his breast, commanded him to follow his footsteps without noise, on pain of immediate death.
With these feelings, he went back to the inn, putting a pair of pistols in his pocket. He told his valet and Pipes to follow him from a distance, so they would be within earshot if needed. Then he positioned himself about thirty yards from his lady's door. He hadn't been there long when he noticed four men taking up positions on the other side, likely to watch for him entering so they could catch him off guard. However, after waiting a considerable time without success, their leader, convinced that the gallant had slipped in by some secret means, approached the door with his group. According to their instructions, as soon as they saw the door open, they rushed in, leaving their leader outside, where he thought he would be safest. Our adventurer, seeing him alone, quickly moved closer and pressed a pistol to his chest, commanding him to follow quietly under the threat of immediate death.
Terrified at this sudden apparition, Hornbeck obeyed in silence; and, in a few minutes, they arrived at the quay, where Pickle, halting, gave him to understand that he was no stranger to his villainous design; told him, that if he conceived himself injured by any circumstance of his conduct, he would now give him an opportunity of resenting the wrong in a manner becoming a man of honour. “You have a sword about you,” said he; “or, if you don't choose to put the affair on that issue, here is a brace of pistols; take which you please.” Such an address could not fail to disconcert a man of his character. After some hesitation, he, in a faltering accent, denied that his design was to mutilate Mr. Pickle, but that he thought himself entitled to the benefit of the law, by which he would have obtained a divorce, if he could have procured evidence of his wife's infidelity; and, with that view, he had employed people to take advantage of the information he had received. With regard to this alternative, he declined it entirely, because he could not see what satisfaction he should enjoy in being shot through the head, or run through the lungs, by a person who had already wronged him in an irreparable manner. Lastly, his fear made him propose that the affair should be left to the arbitration of two creditable men, altogether unconcerned in the dispute.
Terrified by this sudden appearance, Hornbeck fell silent and obeyed; within a few minutes, they reached the quay, where Pickle stopped and made it clear that he was well aware of Hornbeck's malicious intentions. He told Hornbeck that if he felt wronged by any of his actions, he would now give him the chance to respond in a way that was fitting for a man of honor. “You have a sword with you,” he said; “or, if you'd rather not settle it that way, here are two pistols; take whichever you prefer.” Such a challenge was sure to unsettle a man like Hornbeck. After some hesitation, he weakly denied that his plan was to harm Mr. Pickle, claiming instead that he believed he was entitled to the law's protection, which would have allowed him a divorce if he could have found evidence of his wife's infidelity. He explained that he had hired people to gather information based on what he had learned. As for the alternative Pickle proposed, he completely rejected it, saying he didn’t see any satisfaction in being shot in the head or stabbed in the lungs by someone who had already wronged him beyond repair. Finally, his fear led him to suggest that the matter should be settled by two reputable men who had no stake in the conflict.
To these remonstrances Peregrine replied, in the style of a hot-headed young man, conscious of his own unjustifiable behaviour, that every gentleman ought to be a judge of his own honour and therefore he would submit to the decision of no umpire whatsoever; that he would forgive his want of courage, which might be a natural infirmity, but his mean dissimulation he could not pardon. That, as he was certified of the rascally intent of his ambuscade by undoubted intelligence, he would treat him, not with a retaliation of his own treachery, but with such indignity as a scoundrel deserves to suffer, unless he would make one effort to maintain the character he assumed in life. So saying, he again presented his pistols, which being rejected as before, he called his two ministers, and ordered them to duck him in the canal.
To these protests, Peregrine responded like a hot-headed young man, aware of his own unreasonable behavior, that every gentleman should determine his own honor and therefore he wouldn’t accept the judgment of any referee; that he could overlook his lack of courage, which might be a natural weakness, but he couldn’t forgive his petty deceit. He asserted that, since he was informed of the scummy intent behind the ambush through reliable sources, he would not retaliate with his own treachery but would instead treat him with the disrespect a scoundrel deserves, unless he made some effort to uphold the character he claimed in life. With that, he presented his pistols again, which were rejected as before, and called his two attendants, ordering them to dunk him in the canal.
This command was pronounced and executed almost in the same breath, to the unspeakable terror and disorder of the poor shivering patient, who, having undergone the immersion, ran about like a drowned rat, squeaking for assistance and revenge. His cries were overheard by the patrol, who, chancing to pass that way, took him under their protection, and, in consequence of his complaint and information, went in pursuit of our adventurer and his attendants, who were soon overtaken and surrounded. Rash and inconsiderate as the young gentleman was, he did not pretend to stand upon the defensive against a file of musketeers, although Pipes had drawn his cutlass at their approach, but surrendered himself without opposition, and was conveyed to the main guard, where the commanding officer, engaged by his appearance and address, treated him with all imaginable respect. Hearing the particulars of his adventure, he assured him that the prince would consider the whole as a tour de jeunesse, and order him to be released without delay.
This command was given and acted upon almost instantly, causing unimaginable fear and chaos for the poor shivering patient, who, after being immersed, darted around like a soaked rat, calling for help and revenge. His cries were heard by the patrol, who happened to be passing by, and they took him under their wing. Because of his complaint and information, they set out to find our adventurer and his crew, who were quickly caught and surrounded. Reckless and thoughtless as the young man was, he didn’t even try to defend himself against a group of musketeers, even though Pipes had drawn his cutlass at their approach. He surrendered without a fight and was taken to the main guard, where the commanding officer, impressed by his appearance and demeanor, treated him with the utmost respect. After hearing the details of his adventure, he assured him that the prince would see it all as a youthful escapade and would order his release without delay.
Next morning, when this gentleman gave in his report, he made such a favourable representation of the prisoner, that our hero was on the point of being discharged, when Hornbeck preferred a complaint, accusing him of a purposed assassination, and praying that such punishment should be inflicted upon him as his highness should think adequate to the nature of the crime. The prince, perplexed with this petition, in consequence of which he foresaw that he must disoblige a British subject, sent for the plaintiff, of whom he had some knowledge, and, in person, exhorted him to drop the prosecution, which would only serve to propagate his own shame. But Hornbeck was too much incensed to listen to any proposal of that kind, and peremptorily demanded justice against the prisoner, whom he represented as an obscure adventurer, who had made repeated attempts upon his honour and his life. Prince Charles told him, that what he had advised was in the capacity of a friend; but, since he insisted upon his acting as a magistrate, the affair should be examined, and determined according to the dictates of justice and truth.
The next morning, when this gentleman submitted his report, he portrayed the prisoner in such a positive light that our hero was about to be released when Hornbeck filed a complaint, accusing him of attempting murder and requesting that whatever punishment the prince deemed appropriate for the crime be imposed. The prince, confused by this request, knowing it would upset a British subject, called for the complainant, whom he recognized. In person, he urged him to drop the case, explaining that it would only lead to his own disgrace. However, Hornbeck was too angry to consider any suggestion like that and insisted on seeking justice against the prisoner, whom he described as a nobody who had repeatedly attacked his honor and his life. Prince Charles told him that his advice was offered as a friend, but since Hornbeck demanded that he act as a magistrate, the matter would be investigated and resolved according to justice and truth.
The petitioner being dismissed with this promise, the defendant was, in his turn, brought before the judge, whose prepossession in his favour was in a great measure weakened by what his antagonist had said to the prejudice of his birth and reputation.
The petitioner was dismissed with this promise, and then the defendant was brought before the judge, whose initial favor for him was largely diminished by what his opponent had said to tarnish his birth and reputation.
CHAPTER LXI.
Peregrine is released—Jolter confounded at his mysterious Conduct—A Contest happens between the Poet and Painter, who are reconciled by the Mediation of their Fellow-Travellers.
Peregrine is set free—Jolter baffled by his strange behavior—A competition takes place between the Poet and the Painter, who are brought back together by the help of their fellow travelers.
Our hero, understanding from some expressions which escaped the prince, that he was considered in the light of a sharper and assassin, begged that he might have the liberty of sending for some vouchers, that would probably vindicate his character from the malicious aspersions of his adversary. This permission being granted, he wrote a letter to his governor, desiring that he would bring to him the letters of recommendation which he had received from the British ambassador at Paris, and such other papers as he thought conducive to evince the importance of his situation.
Our hero, realizing from some comments made by the prince that he was seen as a con artist and a killer, requested permission to call for some documents that might clear his name from the nasty accusations of his opponent. Once he got the go-ahead, he wrote a letter to his governor, asking him to bring the letters of recommendation he had received from the British ambassador in Paris, along with any other papers he thought would help demonstrate the significance of his situation.
The billet was given in charge to one of the subaltern officers on duty, who carried it to the inn, and demanded to speak with Mr. Jolter. Pallet, who happened to be at the door when this messenger arrived, and heard him inquire for the tutor, ran directly to that gentleman's apartment, and in manifest disorder, told him that a huge fellow of a soldier, with a monstrous pair of whiskers, and fur cap as big as a bushel, was asking for him at the door. The poor governor began to shake at this intimation, though he was not conscious of having committed anything that could attract the attention of the state. When the officer appeared at his chamber door, his confusion increased to such a degree, that his perception seemed to vanish, and the subaltern repeated the purport of his errand three times, before he could comprehend his meaning, or venture to receive the letter which he presented. At length he summoned all his fortitude, and having perused the epistle, his terror sank into anxiety. His ingenuous fear immediately suggested, that Peregrine was confined in a dungeon, for some outrage he had committed. He ran with great agitation to a trunk, and, taking out a bundle of papers, followed his conductor, being attended by the painter, to whom he had hinted his apprehension.
The message was handed over to one of the junior officers on duty, who took it to the inn and asked to speak with Mr. Jolter. Pallet, who was at the door when the messenger arrived and heard him ask for the tutor, rushed straight to that gentleman's room and, clearly flustered, told him that a large soldier with a huge pair of whiskers and a fur cap as big as a bushel was asking for him at the door. The poor governor started to panic at this news, even though he wasn’t aware of doing anything that could attract the state's attention. When the officer showed up at his room, his confusion grew so much that he felt like he was losing his senses. The junior officer had to repeat the reason for his visit three times before the governor could understand what he meant or bring himself to take the letter he was offering. Finally, he gathered all his courage, read the letter, and his fear transformed into anxiety. His genuine concern quickly made him think that Peregrine was locked up in a dungeon for some crime he had committed. He hurriedly went to a trunk, took out a bundle of papers, and followed his guide, accompanied by the painter, to whom he had hinted his worries.
When they passed through the guard, which was under arms, the hearts of both died within them; and when they came into the presence, there was such an expression of awful horror on the countenance of Jolter, that the prince, observing his dismay, was pleased to encourage him with an assurance that he had nothing to fear. Thus comforted, he recollected himself so well as to understand his pupil, when he desired him to produce the ambassador's letters; some of which being open, were immediately read by his highness, who was personally acquainted with the writer, and knew several of the noblemen to whom they were addressed. These recommendations were so warm, and represented the young gentleman in such an advantageous light, that the prince, convinced of the injustice his character had suffered by the misrepresentation of Hornbeck, took our hero by the hand, asked pardon for the doubts he had entertained of his honour, declared him from that moment at liberty, ordered his domestics to be enlarged, and offered him his countenance and protection as long as he should remain in the Austrian Netherlands. At the same time, he cautioned him against indiscretion in the course of his gallantries; and took his word of honour, that he should drop all measures of resentment against the person of Hornbeck during his residence in that place.
When they passed through the armed guard, both of their hearts sank; and when they entered the room, Jolter's face showed such a look of horror that the prince, noticing his distress, reassured him that he had nothing to fear. Comforted by this, Jolter collected himself enough to understand his pupil when he asked him to bring forward the ambassador's letters. Some of these letters were opened and were immediately read by the prince, who personally knew the writer and several of the noblemen they were addressed to. The recommendations were so strong and portrayed the young gentleman in such a positive way that the prince, realizing the injustice his character had faced due to Hornbeck's misrepresentations, took our hero by the hand, apologized for the doubts he had had about his honor, declared him free from that moment, ordered his servants to be released, and offered him his support and protection as long as he remained in the Austrian Netherlands. At the same time, he warned him against being reckless in his pursuits and made him promise that he would not seek revenge against Hornbeck while he was in that location.
The delinquent, thus honourably acquitted, thanked the prince in the most respectful manner for his generosity and candour, and retired with his two friends, who were amazed and bewildered in their thoughts at what they had seen and heard, the whole adventure still remaining without the sphere of their comprehension, which was not at all enlarged by the unaccountable appearance of Pipes, who, with the valet-de-chambre, joined them at the castle gate. Had Jolter been a man of a luxuriant imagination, his brain would undoubtedly have suffered in the investigation of his pupil's mysterious conduct, which he strove in vain to unravel; but his intellects were too solid to be affected by the miscarriage of his invention; and, as Peregrine did not think proper to make him acquainted with the cause of his being apprehended, he contented himself with supposing that there was a lady in the case.
The delinquent, now honorably cleared, thanked the prince in the most respectful way for his generosity and honesty, and left with his two friends, who were stunned and confused by what they had seen and heard. The entire event remained beyond their understanding, which wasn't helped at all by the mysterious appearance of Pipes, who joined them at the castle gate along with the valet-de-chambre. If Jolter had been a man of vivid imagination, he would have surely been troubled trying to figure out his pupil's strange behavior, which he was unable to make sense of. However, his mind was too grounded to be affected by the failure of his imagination, and since Peregrine didn't think it was necessary to explain the reason for his arrest, he settled for assuming that a lady was involved.
The painter, whose imagination was of a more flimsy texture, formed a thousand chimerical conjectures, which he communicated to Pickle, in imperfect insinuations, hoping, by his answers and behaviour, to discover the truth: but the youth, in order to tantalise him, eluded all his inquiries, with such appearance of industry and art, as heightened his curiosity, while it disappointed his aim, and inflamed him to such a degree of impatience, that his wits began to be unsettled: then Peregrine was fain to recompose his brain, by telling him in confidence, that he had been arrested as a spy. This secret he found more intolerable than his former uncertainty. He ran from one apartment to another, like a goose in the agonies of egg-laying, with intention of disburdening this important load; but Jolter being engaged with the pupil, and all the people of the house ignorant of the only language he could speak, he was compelled, with infinite reluctance, to address himself to the doctor, who was at that time shut up in his own chamber. Having knocked at the door to no purpose, he peeped through the key-hole, and saw the physician sitting at a table, with a pen in one hand, and paper before him, his head reclined upon his other hand, and his eyes fixed upon the ceiling, as if he had been entranced. Pallet, concluding that he was under the power of some convulsion, endeavoured to force the door open, and the noise of his efforts recalled the doctor from his reverie.
The painter, whose imagination was pretty fragile, came up with a thousand wild guesses that he shared with Pickle through vague hints, hoping that his responses and behavior would reveal the truth. But the young man, wanting to tease him, dodged all his questions with such skill and effort that it only fueled his curiosity while thwarting his goal. This made the painter so impatient that he felt like he was losing his mind. So, Peregrine had to calm himself down by confiding in him that he had been arrested as a spy. He found this secret even more unbearable than his previous uncertainty. He ran from one room to another, like a frantic goose about to lay an egg, trying to unload this heavy burden. But since Jolter was busy with the student and everyone else in the house spoke a language he couldn’t understand, he reluctantly had to approach the doctor, who was locked in his room at that time. After knocking at the door to no avail, he peeked through the keyhole and saw the physician sitting at a table with a pen in one hand and paper in front of him, his head resting on the other hand, staring at the ceiling as if he were in a trance. Pallet assumed he was experiencing some kind of fit, so he tried to force the door open, and the noise brought the doctor back to reality.
This poetical republican, being so disagreeably disturbed, started up in a passion, and, opening the door, no sooner perceived who had interrupted him, than he flung it in his face with great fury, and cursed him for his impertinent intrusion, which had deprived him of the most delightful vision that ever regaled the human fancy. He imagined, as he afterwards imparted to Peregrine, that, as he enjoyed himself in walking through the flowery plain that borders on Parnassus, he was met by a venerable sage, whom, by a certain divine vivacity that lightened from his eyes, he instantly knew to be the immortal Pindar. He was immediately struck with reverence and awe, and prostrated himself before the apparition, which, taking him by the hand, lifted him gently from the ground and, with words more sweet than the honey of the Hybla bees, told him, that, of all the moderns, he alone was visited by that celestial impulse by which he himself had been inspired, when he produced his most applauded odes. So saying, he led him up the sacred hill, persuaded him to drink a copious draught of the waters of the Hippocrene, and then presented him to the harmonious Nine, who crowned his temples with a laurel wreath.
This poetic republican, feeling extremely annoyed, jumped up in anger and, opening the door, immediately recognized who had interrupted him. He slammed the door in their face with rage and cursed them for their rude intrusion, which had robbed him of the most beautiful vision that ever delighted the human imagination. He later told Peregrine that while he was enjoying a walk through the flower-filled plain by Parnassus, he encountered a wise old sage, who he instantly recognized as the immortal Pindar, thanks to the divine spark in his eyes. He was instantly filled with respect and awe, and he fell to the ground before the vision. The apparition took him by the hand, gently lifted him up, and with words sweeter than the honey from the Hybla bees, told him that, of all the moderns, he alone was touched by the same celestial inspiration that Pindar had when he created his most celebrated odes. After saying this, Pindar led him up the sacred hill, encouraged him to drink deeply from the waters of the Hippocrene, and then introduced him to the harmonious Nine, who crowned his head with a laurel wreath.
No wonder that he was enraged to find himself cut off from such sublime society. He raved in Greek against the invader, who was so big with his own purpose, that, unmindful of the disgrace he had sustained, and disregarding all the symptoms of the physician's displeasure, he applied his mouth to the door, in an eager tone. “I'll hold you any wager,” said he, “that I guess the true cause of Mr. Pickle's imprisonment.” To this challenge he received no reply, and therefore repeated it, adding, “I suppose you imagine he was taken up for fighting a duel, or affronting a nobleman, or lying with some man's wife, or some such matter: but, egad! you was never more mistaken in your life; and I'll lay my Cleopatra against your Homer's head, that in four-and-twenty hours you shan't light on the true reason.”
No wonder he was furious to find himself cut off from such an amazing group. He shouted in Greek against the invader, who was so focused on his own plans that he ignored the shame he had suffered and the signs of the doctor’s disapproval. He leaned eagerly against the door and said, “I’ll bet you anything that I can guess why Mr. Pickle is in jail.” He got no response to this challenge, so he repeated it, adding, “I bet you think he was arrested for dueling, or insulting a nobleman, or sleeping with someone’s wife, or something like that: but, I swear! You couldn’t be more wrong; and I’ll wager my Cleopatra against your Homer’s head that within twenty-four hours, you won’t figure out the real reason.”
The favourite of the muses, exasperated at this vexatious perseverance of the painter, who he imagined had come to tease and insult him, “I would,” said he, “sacrifice a cock to Esculapius, were I assured that any person had been taken up for extirpating such a troublesome Goth as you are from the face of the earth. As for your boasted Cleopatra, which you say was drawn from your own wife, I believe the copy has as much as the original: but, were it mine, it should be hung up in the Temple of Cloacina, as the picture of that goddess; for any other apartment would be disgraced by its appearance.”—“Hark ye, sir,” replied Pallet, enraged in his turn at the contemptuous mention of his darling performance, “you may make as free with my wife as you think proper, but 'ware my works; those are the children of my fancy, conceived by the glowing imagination, and formed by the art of my own hands: and you yourself are a Goth, and a Turk, and a Tartar, and an impudent pretending jackanapes, to treat with such disrespect a production which, in the opinion of all the connoisseurs of the age, will, when finished, be a masterpiece in its kind, and do honour to human genius and skill. So I say again and again, and I care not though your friend Playtor heard me, that you have no more taste than a drayman's horse, and that those foolish notions of the ancients ought to be drubbed out of you with a good cudgel, that you might learn to treat men of parts with more veneration. Perhaps you may not always be in the company of one who will halloo for assistance when you are on the brink of being chastised for your insolence, as I did, when you brought upon yourself the resentment of that Scot, who, by the Lord! would have paid you both Scot and lot, as Falstaff says, if the French officer had not put him in arrest.”
The favorite of the muses, frustrated by the annoying persistence of the painter, who he thought had come to mock and insult him, said, “I would sacrifice a rooster to Esculapius if I were sure that anyone had been taken to get rid of such a troublesome Goth like you from the earth. As for your so-called Cleopatra, which you claim was modeled after your own wife, I believe the copy is just as good as the original: but if it were mine, I’d hang it in the Temple of Cloacina, like the image of that goddess; because any other place would be embarrassed by its presence.” — “Listen here, sir,” replied Pallet, equally angry at the disrespectful reference to his beloved work, “you can say whatever you want about my wife, but watch what you say about my artwork; those are the creations of my imagination, brought to life by my own hands: and you, yourself, are a Goth, a Turk, a Tartar, and a rude, pretentious show-off, to treat with such disdain a piece that, in the opinion of all the experts of the time, will, when finished, be a masterpiece and honor human genius and skill. So I’ll say it again and again, and I don’t care if your friend Playtor hears me, you have no more taste than a cart horse, and those silly ideas from the ancients should be beaten out of you with a good stick, so you can learn to treat talented people with more respect. Maybe you won’t always be around someone who will shout for help when you’re about to get punished for your arrogance, like I did when you provoked that Scot, who, I swear, would have taken care of you big time, as Falstaff says, if that French officer hadn’t put him under arrest.”
The physician, to this declamation, which was conveyed through the key-hole, answered, that he (the painter) was a fellow so infinitely below his consideration, that his conscience upbraided him with no action of his life, except that of choosing such a wretch for his companion and fellow-traveller. That he had viewed his character through the medium of good-nature and compassion, which had prompted him to give Pallet an opportunity of acquiring some new ideas under his immediate instruction; but he had abused his goodness and condescension in such a flagrant manner, that he was now determined to discard him entirely from his acquaintance; and desired him, for the present, to take himself away, on pain of being kicked for his presumption.
The doctor, hearing this rant through the keyhole, replied that the painter was someone so far beneath his consideration that he felt no guilt about any choices in his life, except for picking such a scoundrel as his companion and travel buddy. He had tried to view the guy's character with kindness and empathy, which led him to give Pallet a chance to learn some new ideas directly from him. But Pallet had taken advantage of his kindness and generosity in such a blatant way that he was now decided to completely cut him out of his life and asked him to leave immediately or risk being kicked for his audacity.
Pallet was too much incensed to be intimidated by this threat, which he retorted with great virulence, defying him to come forth, that it might appear which of them was best skilled in that pedestrian exercise, which he immediately began to practise against the door with such thundering application, as reached the ears of Pickle and his governor, who coming out into the passage, and seeing him thus employed, asked if he had forgot the chamber-pots of Alost, that he ventured to behave in such a manner as entitled him to a second prescription of the same nature.
Pallet was too angry to be scared by this threat, and he responded fiercely, challenging him to step forward so they could see who was better at that physical contest. He immediately started practicing right against the door with such force that it caught the attention of Pickle and his guardian. They came out into the hallway and, seeing him acting like that, asked if he had forgotten the chamber pots of Alost, suggesting that he was behaving in a way that would earn him a second dose of the same treatment.
The doctor, understanding that there was company at hand, opened the door in a twinkling, and, springing upon his antagonist like a tiger, a fierce contention would have ensued, to the infinite satisfaction of our hero, had not Jolter, to the manifest peril of his own person, interposed, and partly by force, and partly by exhortations, put a stop to the engagement before it was fairly begun. After having demonstrated the indecency of such a vulgar rencontre, betwixt two fellow-citizens in a foreign land, he begged to know the cause of their dissension, and offered his good offices towards an accommodation. Peregrine also, seeing the fray was finished, expressed himself to the same purpose; and the painter, for obvious reasons, declining an explanation, his antagonist told the youth what a mortifying interruption he had suffered by the impertinent intrusion of Pallet, and gave him a detail of the particulars of his vision, as above recited. The arbiter owned the provocation was not to be endured; and decreed that the offender should make some atonement for his transgression. Upon which the painter observed, that, however he might have been disposed to make acknowledgments, if the physician had signified his displeasure like a gentleman, the complainant had now forfeited all claim to any such concessions, by the vulgar manner in which he had reviled him and his productions; observing, that, if he (the painter) had been inclined to retort his slanderous insinuations, the republican's own works would have afforded ample subject for his ridicule and censure.
The doctor, realizing there were people around, quickly opened the door and lunged at his opponent like a tiger. A fierce fight would have broken out, much to our hero's delight, if not for Jolter, who, despite putting himself in danger, stepped in and managed to stop the conflict before it really started. After illustrating how inappropriate it was for two fellow citizens to clash like this in a foreign land, he asked what had caused their disagreement and offered to help resolve it. Peregrine, seeing that the fight was over, echoed the same sentiment. The painter, for obvious reasons, avoided explaining, so his opponent told the young man about the embarrassing interruption caused by Pallet's rude intrusion and recounted the details of his experience, as mentioned earlier. The mediator agreed that the provocation was unacceptable and ruled that the offender should make amends for his wrongdoing. To which the painter replied that, although he might have been willing to apologize if the doctor had expressed his displeasure like a gentleman, the complainant had forfeited any claim to such gestures by the rude way he had insulted him and his work. He noted that, had he chosen to respond to the slanderous remarks, the republican's own creations would have provided plenty of material for ridicule and criticism.
After divers disputes and representations, peace was at length concluded, on condition, that, for the future, the doctor should never mention Cleopatra, unless he could say something in her praise; and that Pallet, in consideration of his having been the first aggressor, should make a sketch of the physician's vision, to be engraved and prefixed to the next edition of his odes.
After various disagreements and discussions, peace was finally reached, on the condition that, from now on, the doctor would never bring up Cleopatra unless he could say something good about her; and that Pallet, since he was the one who started it, would create a sketch of the physician's vision to be engraved and included in the next edition of his poems.
CHAPTER LXII.
The Travellers depart for Antwerp, at which place the Painter gives a loose to his Enthusiasm.
The Travelers head to Antwerp, where the Painter lets his enthusiasm run free.
Our adventurer, baffled in all his efforts to retrieve his lost Amanda, yielded at length to the remonstrances of his governor and fellow-travellers, who, out of pure complaisance to him, had exceeded their intended stay by six days at least; and a couple of post-chaises, with three riding-horses, being hired, they departed from Brussels in the morning, dined at Mechlin, and arrived about eight in the evening at the venerable city of Antwerp. During this day's journey Pallet was elevated to an uncommon flow of spirits, with the prospect of seeing the birthplace of Rubens, for whom he professed an enthusiastic admiration. He swore, that the pleasure he felt was equal to that of a Mussulman, on the last day of his pilgrimage to Mecca; and that he already considered himself a native of Antwerp, being so intimately acquainted with their so justly boasted citizen, from whom, at certain junctures, he could not help believing himself derived, because his own pencil adopted the manner of that great man with surprising facility, and his face wanted nothing but a pair of whiskers and a beard, to exhibit the express image of the Fleming's countenance. He told them he was so proud of this resemblance, that, in order to render it more striking, he had, at one time of his life, resolved to keep his face sacred from the razor; and in that purpose had persevered, notwithstanding the continual reprehensions of Mrs. Pallet, (who, being then with child), said, his aspect was so hideous, that she dreaded a miscarriage every hour, until she threatened in plain terms, to dispute the sanity of his intellects, and apply to the chancellor for a committee.
Our adventurer, frustrated in all his attempts to find his lost Amanda, finally gave in to the pleas of his governor and fellow travelers, who had extended their stay by at least six days just to help him. They rented two carriages and three horses, leaving Brussels in the morning, having lunch in Mechlin, and arriving around eight in the evening at the historic city of Antwerp. Throughout the day, Pallet was in unusually high spirits, excited about seeing the birthplace of Rubens, whose work he admired passionately. He claimed that the joy he felt was comparable to that of a Muslim on the last day of his pilgrimage to Mecca, and he already considered himself a local of Antwerp, feeling a personal connection to their celebrated citizen. He believed he was somehow related to Rubens, as his own painting style easily imitated the great artist's, and he thought his face just needed a pair of sideburns and a beard to look like Rubens’ portrait. He proudly declared that because of this resemblance, he once decided to stop shaving, a vow he stuck to despite constant nagging from Mrs. Pallet, who, while pregnant, said his appearance was so terrible it made her fear a miscarriage every hour. She even threatened to question his sanity and take the matter to the chancellor for a committee review.
The doctor, on this occasion, observed, that a man who is not proof against the solicitations of a woman, can never expect to make a great figure in life; that painters and poets ought to cultivate no wives but the Muses; or, if they are by the accidents of fortune encumbered with families, they should carefully guard against that pernicious weakness, falsely honoured with the appellation of natural affection, and pay no manner of regard to the impertinent customs of the world. “Granting that you had been for a short time deemed a lunatic,” said he, “you might have acquitted yourself honourably of that imputation, by some performance that would have raised your character above all censure. Sophocles himself, that celebrated tragic poet, who, for the sweetness of his versification, was styled Melitta, or “the Bee,” in his old age, suffered the same accusation from his own children, who, seeing him neglect his family affairs, and devote himself entirely to poetry, carried him before the magistrate, as a man whose intellects were so much impaired by the infirmities of age, that he was no longer fit to manage his domestic concerns; upon which the reverend bard produced his tragedy of Oidipus epi Kolono, as a work he had just finished; which being perused, instead of being declared unsound of understanding, he was dismissed with admiration and applause. I wish your beard and whiskers had been sanctioned by the like authority; though I am afraid you would have been in the predicament of those disciples of a certain philosopher, who drank decoctions of cummin seeds, that their faces might adopt the paleness of their master's complexion, hoping that, in being as wan, they would be as learned as their teacher.” The painter, stung by this sarcasm, replied, “or like those virtuosi, who, by repeating Greek, eating sillikicaby, and pretending to see visions, think they equal the ancients in taste and genius.” The physician retorted, Pallet rejoined, and the altercation continued until they entered the gates of Antwerp, when the admirer of Rubens broke forth into a rapturous exclamation, which put an end to the dispute and attracted the notice of the inhabitants, many of whom by shrugging up their shoulders and pointing to their foreheads, gave shrewd indications that they believed him a poor gentleman disordered in his brain.
The doctor remarked that a man who can’t resist a woman’s advances will never achieve greatness in life. He suggested that painters and poets should only focus on the Muses; if they happen to have families due to life’s circumstances, they must guard against the harmful weakness misnamed as natural affection and disregard the annoying customs of society. “Even if you were temporarily considered insane,” he said, “you could have cleared that reputation with a notable achievement that would elevate your character above criticism. Sophocles, the renowned tragic poet, known for the beauty of his verses and nicknamed Melitta, or ‘the Bee,’ faced the same dilemma in his old age when his children, seeing him neglect family matters in favor of poetry, brought him before the magistrate, arguing that his age had impaired his ability to manage household affairs. The respected poet then presented his recently completed tragedy, Oedipus at Colonus; after reading it, instead of being labeled as mentally unfit, he was praised and admired. I wish your beard and whiskers had enjoyed similar endorsement; though I fear you’d find yourself like those disciples of a certain philosopher who consumed concoctions of cumin seeds to match their master’s pale complexion, believing that by looking as pale, they’d also be as wise as him.” The painter, feeling stung by this remark, shot back, “or like those art enthusiasts who think they match the ancient masters in taste and genius by reciting Greek, eating silly food, and pretending to have visions.” The doctor responded, and Pallet retorted, leading to a back-and-forth until they entered the gates of Antwerp. At that point, the admirer of Rubens let out an ecstatic shout that ended the argument and drew the attention of the locals, many of whom shrugged and pointed to their heads, suggesting they thought he was a distressed gentleman with a few screws loose.
They had no sooner alighted at the inn, than this pseudo-enthusiast proposed to visit the great church, in which he had been informed some of his master's pieces were to be seen, and was remarkably chagrined, when he understood that he could not be admitted till next day. He rose next morning by day-break, and disturbed his fellow-travellers in such a noisy and clamorous manner, that Peregrine determined to punish him with some new infliction, and, while he put on his clothes, actually formed the plan of promoting a duel between him and the doctor, in the management of which, he promised himself store of entertainment, from the behaviour of both.
They had barely gotten off the carriage at the inn when this fake enthusiast suggested they visit the big church, where he had heard some of his master's works were on display. He was really disappointed to find out he couldn’t get in until the next day. He woke up at dawn the next morning and disturbed his fellow travelers in such a loud and raucous way that Peregrine decided to teach him a lesson with some new punishment. While he got dressed, he actually came up with a plan to set up a duel between him and the doctor, promising himself that he would get a lot of entertainment from their antics.
Being provided with one of those domestics who are always in waiting to offer their services to strangers on their first arrival, they were conducted to the house of a gentleman who had an excellent collection of pictures; and though the greatest part of them were painted by his favourite artist, Pallet condemned them all by the lump, because Pickle had told him beforehand that there was not one performance of Rubens among the number.
Being attended by one of those servants who are always ready to help newcomers upon their arrival, they were taken to the home of a gentleman with a fantastic collection of paintings. Even though most of them were created by his favorite artist, Pallet dismissed them all as a group because Pickle had previously informed him that there wasn't a single piece by Rubens in the collection.
The next place they visited was what is called the Academy of Painting, furnished with a number of paltry pieces, in which our painter recognised the style of Peter Paul, with many expressions of admiration, on the same sort of previous intelligence.
The next place they visited was what is known as the Academy of Painting, filled with a number of mediocre pieces, in which our painter recognized the style of Peter Paul, along with many expressions of admiration, based on the same kind of prior knowledge.
From this repository, they went to the great church; and being led to the tomb of Rubens, the whimsical painter fell upon his knees, and worshipped with such appearance of devotion, that the attendant, scandalized at his superstition, pulled him up, observing, with great warmth, that the person buried in that place was no saint, but as great a sinner as himself; and that, if he was spiritually disposed, there was a chapel of the Blessed Virgin, at the distance of three yards on the right hand, to which he might retire. He thought it was incumbent upon him to manifest some extraordinary inspiration, while he resided on the spot where Rubens was born; and, therefore, his whole behaviour was an affectation of rapture, expressed in distracted exclamations, convulsive starts, and uncouth gesticulations. In the midst of this frantic behaviour, he saw an old Capuchin, with a white beard, mount the pulpit, and hold forth to the congregation with such violence of emphasis and gesture, as captivated his fancy; and, bawling aloud, “Zounds! what an excellent Paul preaching at Athens!” he pulled a pencil and a small memorandum book from his pocket, and began to take a sketch of the orator, with great eagerness and agitation, saying “Egad! friend Raphael, we shall see whether you or I have got the best knack at trumping up an apostle.” This appearance of disrespect gave offence to the audience, who began to murmur against this heretic libertine; when one of the priests belonging to the choir, in order to prevent any ill consequence from their displeasure, came and told him in the French language, that such liberties were not permitted in their religion, and advised him to lay aside his implements, lest the people should take umbrage at his design, and be provoked to punish him as a profane scoffer at their worship.
From this collection, they went to the big church; and being led to the tomb of Rubens, the quirky painter fell to his knees and worshipped with such an appearance of devotion that the attendant, scandalized by his superstition, pulled him up, saying passionately that the person buried there was no saint, but as big a sinner as he was; and that, if he felt spiritually inclined, there was a chapel of the Blessed Virgin just three yards to the right where he could go. He felt it was important to show some extraordinary inspiration while he was in the place where Rubens was born; and so, his whole behavior was an act of rapture, expressed in distracted exclamations, sudden movements, and awkward gestures. In the middle of this frantic behavior, he spotted an old Capuchin with a white beard stepping up to the pulpit, preaching to the congregation with such force and emphasis that it caught his attention; and, shouting, “Wow! what an amazing Paul preaching at Athens!” he pulled out a pencil and a small notebook from his pocket and eagerly started sketching the orator, exclaiming, “Wow! friend Raphael, let’s see who can create a better apostle.” This display of disrespect offended the audience, who began to murmur against this heretical libertine; when one of the choir priests, to prevent any negative reaction from their anger, came over and told him in French that such liberties were not allowed in their religion, and advised him to put away his tools, lest the people get upset with his drawing and punish him as a disrespectful mocker of their worship.
The painter, seeing himself addressed by a friar, who, while he spoke, bowed with great complaisance, imagined that he was a begging brother come to supplicate his charity; and his attention being quite engrossed by the design he was making, he patted the priest's shaven crown with his hand, saying, Oter tems, oter tems, and then resumed his pencil with great earnestness. The ecclesiastic, perceiving that the stranger did not comprehend his meaning, pulled him by the sleeve, and explained himself in the Latin tongue: upon which Pallet, provoked at his intrusion, cursed him aloud for an impudent beggarly son of a w—, and, taking out a shilling, flung it upon the pavement, with manifest signs of indignation.
The painter, noticing a friar speaking to him and bowing politely, thought he was a begging brother asking for help. His focus was completely on the design he was working on, so he patted the priest's bald head and said, "Other times, other times," then went back to his work with intense concentration. The priest saw that the stranger didn’t understand him, grabbed his sleeve, and explained in Latin. This made Pallet angry at the interruption, and he loudly cursed him for being an impudent, beggarly son of a w—. He then pulled out a shilling and tossed it onto the ground in obvious frustration.
Some of the common people, enraged to see their religion contemned, and their priests insulted at the very altar, rose from their seats, and, surrounding the astonished painter, one of the number snatched his book from his hand, and tore it into a thousand pieces. Frightened as he was, he could not help crying “Fire and fagots! all my favourite ideas are gone to wreck!” and was in danger of being very roughly handled by the crowd, had not Peregrine stepped in, and assured them, that he was a poor unhappy gentleman, who laboured under a transport of the brain. Those who understood the French language communicated this information to the rest, so that he escaped without any other chastisement than being obliged to retire. And as they could not see the famous Descent from the Cross till after the service was finished, they were conducted by their domestic to the house of a painter, where they found a beggar standing for his picture, and the artist actually employed in representing a huge louse that crawled upon his shoulder. Pallet was wonderfully pleased with this circumstance, which he said was altogether a new thought, and an excellent hint, of which he would make his advantage: and, in the course of his survey of this Fleming's performances, perceiving a piece in which two flies were engaged upon the carcass of a dog half devoured, he ran to his brother brush, and swore he was worthy of being a fellow-citizen of the immortal Rubens. He then lamented, with many expressions of grief and resentment, that he had lost his commonplace book, in which he had preserved a thousand conceptions of the same sort, formed by the accidental objects of his senses and imagination; and took an opportunity of telling his fellow-travellers, that in execution he had equalled, if not excelled, the two ancient painters who had vied with each other in the representation of a curtain and a bunch of grapes; for he had exhibited the image of a certain object so like to nature, that the bare sight of it set a whole hog-sty in an uproar.
Some of the common folks, furious at seeing their religion disrespected and their priests insulted right at the altar, rose from their seats. They surrounded the stunned painter, and one of them grabbed his book and ripped it into a thousand pieces. Terrified as he was, he couldn't help but shout, "Fire and brimstone! All my favorite ideas are ruined!" He was in danger of being seriously manhandled by the crowd if Peregrine hadn't stepped in and told them that he was just a poor, unhappy man suffering from a fit of madness. Those who understood French conveyed this information to the others, so he escaped without any punishment other than having to leave. Since they couldn't see the famous Descent from the Cross until after the service was over, they were taken by their attendant to a painter's house, where they found a beggar posing for a portrait, and the artist was actually painting a huge louse crawling on his shoulder. Pallet was incredibly pleased with this situation, calling it a completely new idea and a great inspiration that he could use to his advantage. While checking out this Flemish artist's work, he spotted a piece with two flies feasting on a half-eaten dog carcass, and he hurried to his fellow painter, swearing he deserved to be a peer of the immortal Rubens. He then lamented, with lots of expressions of sorrow and anger, that he had lost his sketchbook, where he kept a thousand ideas just like this, inspired by the random things around him and in his imagination. He took the chance to tell his fellow travelers that in execution he had matched, if not surpassed, the two ancient painters who competed to paint a curtain and a bunch of grapes; for he had depicted an object so lifelike that just looking at it set an entire pigsty in chaos.
When he had examined and applauded all the productions of this minute artist, they returned to the great church, and were entertained with the view of that celebrated masterpiece of Rubens, in which he has introduced the portraits of himself and his whole family. The doors that conceal this capital performance were no sooner unfolded, than our enthusiast, debarred the use of speech, by a previous covenant with his friend Pickle, lifted up his hands and eyes, and putting himself in the attitude of Hamlet, when his father's ghost appears, adored in silent ecstasy and awe. He even made a merit of necessity; and, when they had withdrawn from the place, protested that his whole faculties were swallowed up in love and admiration. He now professed himself more than ever enamoured of the Flemish school, raved in extravagant encomiums, and proposed that the whole company should pay homage to the memory of the divine Rubens, by repairing forthwith to the house in which he lived, and prostrating themselves on the floor of his painting-room.
When he had looked at and admired all the works of this talented artist, they headed back to the grand church and enjoyed the sight of that famous masterpiece by Rubens, where he painted portraits of himself and his entire family. As soon as the doors hiding this stunning artwork were opened, our enthusiast, unable to speak due to a prior agreement with his friend Pickle, raised his hands and eyes and took on the pose of Hamlet when his father's ghost appears, worshiping in silent wonder and reverence. He even turned his obligation into a point of pride; and when they left the place, he claimed that all his thoughts were consumed with love and admiration. He declared himself more in love with the Flemish school than ever, raved with excessive praise, and suggested that the whole group should honor the memory of the great Rubens by immediately going to the house where he lived and lying down on the floor of his painting room in homage.
As there was nothing remarkable in the tenement, which had been rebuilt more than once since the death of that great man, Peregrine excused himself from complying with the proposal, on pretence of being fatigued with the circuit they had already performed. Jolter declined it for the same reason; and the question being put to the doctor, he refused his company with an air of disdain. Pallet, piqued at his contemptuous manner, asked, “if he would not go and see the habitation of Pindoor, provided he was in the city where that poet lived?” and when the physician observed, that there was an infinite difference between the men, “That I'll allow,” replied the painter, “for the devil a poet ever lived in Greece or Troy, that was worthy to clean the pencils of our beloved Rubens.” The physician could not, with any degree of temper and forbearance, hear this outrageous blasphemy, for which, he said, Pallet's eyes ought to be picked out by owls; and the dispute arose, as usual, to such scurrilities of language, and indecency of behaviour, that passengers began to take notice of their animosity, and Peregrine was obliged to interpose for his own credit.
Since there was nothing special about the tenement, which had been rebuilt multiple times since the passing of that great man, Peregrine said he couldn't go along with the proposal, pretending he was tired from the route they had already taken. Jolter turned it down for the same reason, and when the question was directed at the doctor, he refused to join with a look of disdain. Pallet, annoyed by his snobby attitude, asked, “Would you go see the home of Pindoor if you were in the city where that poet lived?” When the physician pointed out that there was a huge difference between the two men, Pallet replied, “I’ll agree with that, but no poet from Greece or Troy was good enough to touch the brushes of our beloved Rubens.” The physician couldn't calmly tolerate this outrageous insult, claiming that Pallet deserved to have his eyes pecked out by owls. The argument quickly escalated into foul language and inappropriate behavior, drawing the attention of passersby, forcing Peregrine to step in to save his own reputation.
CHAPTER LXIII.
Peregrine artfully foments a Quarrel between Pallet and the Physician, who fight a Duel on the Ramparts.
Peregrine cleverly stirs up a conflict between Pallet and the Doctor, who end up dueling on the walls.
The painter betook himself to the house of the Flemish Raphael, and the rest of the company went back to their lodgings; where the young gentleman, taking the advantage of being alone with the physician, recapitulated all the affronts he had sustained from the painter's petulance, aggravating every circumstance of the disgrace, and advising him, in the capacity of a friend, to take care of his honour, which could not fail to suffer in the opinion of the world, if he allowed himself to be insulted with impunity, by one so much his inferior in every degree of consideration.
The painter went to the house of the Flemish Raphael, and the rest of the group returned to their lodgings. There, the young man, seizing the opportunity to be alone with the doctor, went over all the insults he had endured from the painter's arrogance, exaggerating every detail of the humiliation. He advised the doctor, as a friend, to protect his reputation, which would surely suffer in the eyes of others if he let someone so inferior to him insult him without consequences.
The physician assured him, that Pallet had hitherto escaped chastisement, by being deemed an object unworthy his resentment, and in consideration of the wretch's family, for which his compassion was interested; but that repeated injuries would inflame the most benevolent disposition. And, though he could find no precedent of duelling among the Greeks and Romans, whom he considered as the patterns of demeanour, Pallet should no longer avail himself of his veneration for the ancients, but be punished for the very next offence he should commit.
The doctor assured him that Pallet had so far avoided punishment because he was seen as someone not worth his anger and out of consideration for the miserable man's family, which he felt sympathy for. However, repeated wrongs would test even the kindest nature. Although he couldn’t find any examples of dueling among the Greeks and Romans, who he viewed as models of behavior, Pallet should no longer use his respect for the ancients as an excuse, but would be punished for the very next offense he committed.
Having thus spirited up the doctor to a resolution from which he could not decently swerve, our adventurer acted the incendiary with the other party also; giving him to understand, that the physician treated his character with such contempt, and behaved to him with such insolence, as no gentleman ought to bear: that, for his own part, he was every day put out of countenance by their mutual animosity, which appeared in nothing but vulgar expressions, more becoming shoe-boys and oyster-women than men of honour and education; and therefore he should be obliged, contrary to his inclination, to break off all correspondence with them both, if they would not fall upon some method to retrieve the dignity of their characters.
Having encouraged the doctor to make a decision he couldn't back down from, our adventurer stirred up trouble with the other party too. He made it clear that the physician was treating him with such disregard and behaving so rudely that no gentleman should tolerate it. He expressed that their ongoing hostility embarrassed him daily, as it manifested in nothing but crude insults, more suited for shoe-shiners and fishmongers than for men of honor and education. Therefore, he felt he would have to cut off all contact with both of them, against his better judgment, unless they found a way to restore their dignity.
These representations would have had little effect upon the timidity of the painter, who was likewise too much of a Grecian to approve of single combat, in any other way than that of boxing, an exercise in which he was well skilled, had they not been accompanied with an insinuation, that his antagonist was no Hector, and that he might humble him into any concession, without running the least personal risk. Animated by this assurance, our second Rubens set the trumpet of defiance to his mouth, swore he valued not his life a rush, when his honour was concerned, and entreated Mr. Pickle to be the bearer of a challenge, which he would instantly commit to writing.
These representations would have had little impact on the painter's shyness, who was also too much of a Grecian to support any kind of combat other than boxing, a skill he was quite good at, if they hadn't come with an implication that his opponent was no Hector and that he could bring him to any concession without facing any real danger. Encouraged by this assurance, our second Rubens grabbed the trumpet of defiance, claimed he didn't care about his life a bit when his honor was at stake, and asked Mr. Pickle to deliver a challenge, which he would immediately put in writing.
The mischievous fomenter highly applauded this manifestation of courage, by which he was at liberty to cultivate his friendship and society, but declined the office of carrying the billet, that his tenderness of Pallet's reputation might not be misinterpreted into an officious desire of promoting quarrels. At the same time, he recommended Tom Pipes, not only as a very proper messenger on this occasion, but also as a trusty second in the field. The magnanimous painter took his advice, and, retiring to his chamber, penned a challenge in these terms:—
The mischievous instigator strongly praised this display of bravery, which allowed him to nurture his friendship and involvement, but he chose not to deliver the note so that his caring for Pallet's reputation wouldn't be mistaken for a meddlesome intention to incite conflict. Instead, he suggested Tom Pipes, not only as a suitable messenger for this situation but also as a reliable ally in the confrontation. The noble painter followed his advice and, retreating to his room, wrote a challenge in these words:—
“Sir,—When I am heartily provoked, I fear not the devil
himself; much less—I will not call you a pedantic coxcomb,
nor an unmannerly fellow, because these are the hippethets of
the vulgar; but, remember, such as you are, I nyther love you
nor fear you; but, on the contrary, expect satisfaction for your
audacious behaviour to me on divers occasions; and will, this
evening, in the twilight, meet you on the ramparts with sword
and pistol, where the Lord have mercy on the soul of one of us,
for your body shall find no favour with your incensed defier
till death,
“Layman Pallet.”
“Sir,—When I’m truly angered, I don’t fear the devil himself; even less so—I'm not going to call you a pretentious fool or an ill-mannered person, because those are the insults of the uncultured; but remember, I neither love you nor fear you; rather, I expect satisfaction for your brazen behavior towards me on various occasions; and tonight, at dusk, I’ll meet you on the ramparts with sword and pistol, where the Lord have mercy on the soul of one of us, for your body shall find no mercy with your outraged challenger until death,
“Layman Pallet.”This resolute defiance, after having been submitted to the perusal, and honoured with the approbation of our youth, was committed to the charge of Pipes, who, according to his orders, delivered it in the afternoon; and brought for answer, that the physician would attend him at the appointed time and place. The challenger was evidently discomposed at the unexpected news of this acceptance, and ran about the house in great disorder, in quest of Peregrine, to beg his further advice and assistance; but understanding that the youth was engaged in private with his adversary, he began to suspect some collusion, and cursed himself for his folly and precipitation. He even entertained some thoughts of retracting his invitation, and submitting to the triumph of his antagonist: but before he would stoop to this opprobrious condescension, he resolved to try another expedient, which might be the means of saving both his character and person. In this hope he visited Mr. Jolter, and very gravely desired he would be so good as to undertake the office of his second in a duel which he was to fight that evening with the physician.
This determined defiance, after being read and approved by our youth, was handed over to Pipes, who, following his instructions, delivered it in the afternoon. He returned with the message that the doctor would meet him at the agreed time and place. The challenger was clearly unsettled by the unexpected news of this acceptance and ran around the house in a frenzy looking for Peregrine, to ask for his further advice and help. However, upon realizing that the youth was privately engaged with his opponent, he started to suspect some kind of conspiracy and cursed himself for his foolishness and rashness. He even considered withdrawing his invitation and letting his rival win. But before he would lower himself to that shameful submission, he decided to try a different approach that might help him save both his reputation and his safety. With that hope, he went to visit Mr. Jolter and seriously asked him to take on the role of his second in a duel he was supposed to have that evening with the doctor.
The governor, instead of answering his expectation, in expressing fear and concern, and breaking forth into exclamations of “Good God! gentlemen, what d'ye mean? You shall not murder one another while it is in my power to prevent your purpose. I will go directly to the governor of the place, who shall interpose his authority—I say—” instead of these and other friendly menaces of prevention, Jolter heard the proposal with the most phlegmatic tranquility, and excused himself from accepting the honour he intended for him, on account of his character and situation, which would not permit him to be concerned in any such rencontres. Indeed, this mortifying reception was owing to a previous hint from Peregrine, who, dreading some sort of interruption from his governor, had made him acquainted with his design, and assured him, that the affair should not be brought to any dangerous issue.
The governor, instead of meeting their expectations, expressed fear and concern, exclaiming, “Good God! Gentlemen, what do you mean? You will not murder each other while I can prevent it. I’ll go straight to the governor here, who will use his authority—I mean—” Instead of these and other friendly threats to stop them, Jolter listened to the proposal with complete calm and declined the honor he intended for him, citing his character and position, which didn’t allow him to be involved in any such encounters. In fact, this embarrassing response was due to a previous warning from Peregrine, who, fearing some kind of interruption from his governor, had informed him of his plan and assured him that the situation wouldn’t escalate to anything dangerous.
Thus disappointed, the dejected challenger was overwhelmed with perplexity and dismay; and, in the terrors of death or mutilation, resolved to deprecate the wrath of his enemy, and conform to any submission he should propose, when he was accidentally encountered by our adventurer, who, with demonstrations of infinite satisfaction, told him in confidence, that the billet had thrown the doctor into an agony of consternation; that his acceptance of his challenge was a mere effort of despair, calculated to confound the ferocity of the sender, and dispose him to listen to terms of accommodation; that he had imparted the letter to him with fear and trembling, on pretence of engaging him as a second, but, in reality, with a view of obtaining his good offices in promoting a reconciliation; “but, perceiving the situation of his mind,” added our hero, “I thought it would be more for your honour to baffle his expectation, and therefore I readily undertook the task of attending him to the field, in full assurance that he will there humble himself before you, even to prostration. In this security, you may go and prepare your arms, and bespeak the assistance of Pipes, who will squire you in the field, while I keep myself up, that our correspondence may not be suspected by the physician.” Pallet's spirits, that were sunk to dejection, rose at this encouragement to all the insolence of triumph; he again declared his contempt of danger, and his pistols being loaded and accommodated with new flints, by his trusty armour-bearer, he waited, without flinching, for the hour of battle.
Thus disappointed, the dejected challenger was overwhelmed with confusion and worry; and, terrified of death or injury, decided to appease his enemy's anger and comply with any demands he might make. Just then, our adventurer happened upon him and, filled with excitement, confided that the letter had sent the doctor into a panic; that his acceptance of the challenge was a desperate move intended to confuse the sender's aggression and make him more open to negotiations. He had shared the letter under the guise of asking him to be his second, but in reality, he wanted his help to foster a reconciliation. “But, seeing how you felt,” our hero added, “I thought it would be better for your honor to thwart his expectations, and so I agreed to accompany him to the duel, sure that he will humble himself before you, even to the ground. With this assurance, you can go prepare your weapons and arrange for Pipes to assist you in the duel, while I keep my distance so our communication doesn’t get noticed by the doctor.” Pallet, who had been feeling low, was lifted by this encouragement to a state of triumph; he once again scoffed at danger, and with his pistols loaded and fitted with new flints by his loyal squire, he stood ready for the battle.
On the first approach of twilight, somebody knocked at his door, and Pipes having opened it at his desire, he heard the voice of his antagonist pronounce, “Tell Mr. Pallet that I am going to the place of appointment.” The painter was not a little surprised at this anticipation, which so ill agreed with the information he had received from Pickle; and his concern beginning to recur, he fortified himself with a large bumper of brandy, which, however, did not overcome the anxiety of his thoughts. Nevertheless, he set out on the expedition with his second, betwixt whom and himself the following dialogue passed, in their way to the ramparts.
As twilight approached, someone knocked on his door, and Pipes opened it at his request. He heard his opponent say, “Tell Mr. Pallet that I’m heading to the meeting spot.” The painter was quite surprised by this ahead-of-schedule notice, which clashed with what he had been told by Pickle. His concern resurfaced, so he downed a big glass of brandy, which didn’t do much to ease his anxious thoughts. Still, he set off for the duel with his second, who exchanged the following dialogue with him on their way to the ramparts.
“Mr. Pipes,” said the painter, with disordered accent, “methinks the doctor was in a pestilent hurry with that message of his.”—“Ey, ey,” answered Tom, “I do suppose he longs to be foul of you.”—“What,” replied the other, “d'ye think he thirsts after my blood?”—“To be sure a does,” said Pipes, thrusting a large quid of tobacco in his check, with great deliberation. “If that be the case,” cried Pallet, beginning to shake, “he is no better than a cannibal, and no Christian ought to fight him on equal footing.” Tom observing his emotion, eyed him with a frown of indignation, saying, “You an't afraid, are you?”—“God forbid,” replied the challenger, stammering with fear; “what should I be afraid of? The worst he can do is to take my life, and then he'll be answerable both to God and man for the murder. Don't you think he will?”—“I think no such matter,” answered the second; “if so be as how he puts a brace of bullets through your bows, and kills you fairly, it is no more murder than if I was to bring down a noddy from the main top-sail yard.”
“Mr. Pipes,” said the painter, with a jumbled accent, “I think the doctor was in quite a hurry with that message of his.” — “Yeah, yeah,” replied Tom, “I suppose he can’t wait to get to you.” — “What?” said the other, “do you think he’s out for my blood?” — “Of course he is,” said Pipes, sticking a big wad of tobacco in his cheek with great deliberation. “If that’s the case,” Pallet exclaimed, starting to shake, “he’s nothing short of a cannibal, and no decent person should confront him on equal terms.” Tom, noticing his fear, looked at him with a scowl of indignation, saying, “You’re not afraid, are you?” — “God forbid,” replied the challenger, stammering with fear; “what is there to be afraid of? The worst he could do is take my life, and then he’d have to answer to both God and man for the murder. Don’t you think he will?” — “I doubt it,” answered the second; “if he puts a couple of bullets through you and kills you outright, it’s no more murder than if I were to take down a seagull from the top sail yard.”
By this time Pallet's teeth chattered with such violence, that he could scarce pronounce this reply: “Mr. Thomas, you seem to make very light of a man's life; but I trust in the Almighty. I shall not be so easily brought down. Sure many a man has fought a duel without losing his life. Do you imagine that I run such a hazard of falling by the hand of my adversary?”—“You may or you may not,” said the unconcerned Pipes, “just as it happens. What then? Death is a debt that every man owes, according to the song; and if you set foot to foot, I think one of you must go to pot.”—“Foot to foot!” exclaimed the terrified painter: “that's downright butchery; and I'll be d— before I fight any man on earth in such a barbarous way. What! d'ye take me to be a savage beast?” This declaration he made while they ascended the ramparts.
By this time, Pallet's teeth were chattering so much that he could barely respond: “Mr. Thomas, you seem to take a man's life very lightly; but I trust in the Almighty. I won't be brought down so easily. Plenty of men have fought duels without losing their lives. Do you really think I’m at such risk of being killed by my opponent?”—“You might be, or you might not,” replied the indifferent Pipes, “it just depends. So what? Death is a debt every man has to pay, according to the song; and if you two are toe-to-toe, I figure one of you has to go down.” —“Toe-to-toe!” the terrified painter shouted: “that's outright slaughter; and I’ll be damned before I fight any man on earth in such a brutal way. What! Do you think I'm some kind of savage?” He declared this as they climbed the ramparts.
His attendant perceiving the physician and his second at the distance of a hundred paces before them, gave him notice of their appearance, and advised him to make ready, and behave like a man. Pallet in vain endeavoured to conceal his panic, which discovered itself in a universal trepidation of body, and the lamentable tone in which he answered this exhortation of Pipes, saying, “I do behave like a man; but you would have me act the part of a brute. Are they coming this way?” When Tom told him that they had faced about, and admonished him to advance, the nerves of his arm refused their office, he could not hold out his pistol, and instead of going forward, retreated with an insensibility of motion; till Pipes, placing himself in the rear, set his own back to that of his principal, and swore he should not budge an inch farther in that direction.
His attendant noticed the doctor and his assistant a hundred paces away and alerted him to their presence, advising him to get ready and act like a man. Pallet tried in vain to hide his fear, which showed through his trembling body and the pathetic way he responded to Pipes' encouragement, saying, “I am acting like a man; but you want me to be a brute. Are they coming this way?” When Tom told him they had turned around and urged him to move forward, his nerves failed him—he couldn’t raise his pistol and instead of advancing, he retreated without realizing it. Then Pipes positioned himself behind him, pressed his back against Pallet’s, and swore he wouldn’t let him move another inch in that direction.
While the valet thus tutored the painter, his master enjoyed the terrors of the physician, which were more ridiculous than those of Pallet, because he was more intent upon disguising them. His declaration to Pickle in the morning would not suffer him to start any objections when he received the challenge; and finding that the young gentleman made no offer of mediating the affair, but rather congratulated him on the occasion, when he communicated the painter's billet, all his efforts consisted in oblique hints, and general reflections upon the absurdity of duelling, which was first introduced among civilised nations by the barbarous Huns and Longobards. He likewise pretended to ridicule the use of firearms, which confounded all the distinctions of skill and address, and deprived a combatant of the opportunity of signalizing his personal prowess.
While the valet trained the painter, his master relished the fears of the physician, which were even more comical than those of Pallet, since he was more focused on hiding them. His statement to Pickle in the morning left no room for objections when he received the challenge; and noticing that the young man made no move to mediate the matter, but instead congratulated him on the occasion when he shared the painter's note, all his attempts were just subtle hints and general comments about the ridiculousness of dueling, which was first brought into civilized societies by the savage Huns and Longobards. He also pretended to mock the use of firearms, which blurred the lines of skill and finesse, and took away a fighter's chance to showcase his personal strength.
Pickle assented to the justness of his observations; but, at the same time, represented the necessity of complying with the customs of this world, ridiculous as they were, on which a man's honour and reputation depend: so that, seeing no hopes of profiting by that artifice, the republican's agitation became more and more remarkable; and he proposed, in plain terms, that they should contend in armour, like the combatants of ancient days; for it was but reasonable that they should practise the manner of fighting, since they adopted the disposition of those iron times.
Pickle agreed with the fairness of his comments; however, he also pointed out the need to follow the customs of this world, no matter how ridiculous they might be, as a man’s honor and reputation depend on them. So, seeing no chance to benefit from that trick, the republican’s anxiety became increasingly noticeable; he suggested, plainly, that they should fight in armor like the warriors of ancient times. It made sense for them to train in the way of fighting since they embraced the mindset of those iron-aged days.
Nothing could have afforded more diversion to our hero than the sight of two such duellists cased in iron; and he wished that he had promoted the quarrel in Brussels, where he could have hired the armour of Charles the Fifth, and the valiant Duke of Parma, for their accommodation; but as there was no possibility of furnishing them cap-a-pie at Antwerp, he persuaded him to conform to the modern use of the sword, and meet the painter on his own terms; and suspecting that his fear would supply him with other excuses for declining the combat, he comforted him with some distant insinuations, to the prejudice of his adversary's courage, which would, in all probability, evaporate before any mischief could happen.
Nothing could have amused our hero more than watching two duelists in armor, and he wished he had sparked the fight in Brussels, where he could have rented the armor of Charles the Fifth and the brave Duke of Parma for their duel. But since it wasn’t possible to fully equip them in Antwerp, he convinced him to go along with the modern approach to dueling and face the painter on his own terms. Suspecting that fear would give him other reasons to back out of the fight, he reassured him with some subtle hints about his opponent's courage, which would likely fade away before anything serious could happen.
Notwithstanding this encouragement, he could not suppress the reluctance with which he went to the field, and cast many a wishful look over his left shoulder, to see whether or not his adversary was at his heels. When, by the advice of his second, he took possession of the ground, and turned about with his face to the enemy, it was not so dark, but that Peregrine could perceive the unusual paleness of his countenance, and the sweat standing in large drops upon his forehead; nay, there was a manifest disorder in his speech, when he regretted his want of the pila and parma, with which he would have made a rattling noise, to astonish his foe, in springing forward, and singing the hymn to battle, in the manner of the ancients.
Despite this encouragement, he couldn't shake off the reluctance he felt as he approached the field, glancing back over his left shoulder to see if his opponent was right behind him. When, at his second's suggestion, he took his position and faced the enemy, it wasn't so dark that Peregrine couldn't notice the unusual paleness of his face and the sweat that was dripping from his forehead; in fact, there was a clear disruption in his speech as he expressed his regret for lacking the pila and parma, which he would have used to create a loud noise to intimidate his enemy, all while charging forward and singing the battle hymn like the ancients.
In the meantime, observing the hesitation of his antagonist, who, far from advancing, seemed to recoil, and even struggle with his second, he guessed the situation of the painter's thoughts, and, collecting all the manhood that he possessed, seized the opportunity of profiting by his enemy's consternation. Striking his sword and pistol together, he advanced in a sort of trot, raising a loud howl, in which he repeated, in lieu of the Spartan song, part of the strophe from one of Pindar's Pythia, beginning with ek theon gar makanoi pasai Broteais aretais, etc. This imitation of the Greeks had all the desired effect upon the painter, who seeing the physician running towards him like a fury, with a pistol in his right hand, which was extended, and hearing the dreadful yell he uttered, and the outlandish words he pronounced, was seized with a universal palsy of his limbs. He would have dropped down upon the ground, had not Pipes supported and encouraged him to stand upon his defence. The doctor, contrary to his expectation, finding that he had not flinched from the spot, though he had now performed one half of his career, put in practice his last effort, by firing his pistol, the noise of which no sooner reached the ears of the affrighted painter, than he recommended his soul to God, and roared for mercy with great vociferation.
In the meantime, noticing his opponent's hesitation, who, instead of advancing, seemed to pull back and even struggle with his assistant, he sensed what was going on in the painter's mind. Summoning all the courage he had, he took advantage of his enemy's panic. Clashing his sword and pistol together, he moved forward in a sort of jog, letting out a loud howl, in which he repeated, instead of the Spartan song, part of the strophe from one of Pindar's Pythia, starting with "ek theon gar makanoi pasai Broteais aretais," etc. This imitation of the Greeks had the desired effect on the painter, who saw the doctor rushing toward him like a madman, with a pistol extended in his right hand. Hearing the terrifying yell and the strange words, he was overwhelmed with a paralysis that seized his limbs. He would have collapsed to the ground if Pipes hadn't supported and encouraged him to defend himself. Contrary to his expectations, the doctor found that the painter hadn’t flinched from the spot, even after covering half the distance. He made one last attempt by firing his pistol, and as soon as the sound reached the terrified painter's ears, he cried out for mercy, recommending his soul to God with great volume.
The republican, overjoyed at this exclamation, commanded him to yield, and surrender his arms, on pain of immediate death; upon which he threw away his pistols and sword, in spite of all the admonitions and even threats of his second, who left him to his fate, and went up to his master, stopping his nose with signs of loathing and abhorrence.
The republican, thrilled by this shout, ordered him to give up and hand over his weapons, threatening him with immediate death if he didn't. Despite all the warnings and even threats from his second, he tossed away his pistols and sword, leaving his fate to chance while his second went to his master, turning his nose up in disgust and disdain.
The victor, having won the spolia opima, granted him his life, on condition that he would on his knees supplicate his pardon, acknowledge himself inferior to his conqueror in every virtue and qualification, and promise for the future to merit his favour by submission and respect. These insolent terms were readily embraced by the unfortunate challenger, who fairly owned, that he was not at all calculated for the purposes of war, and that henceforth he would contend with no weapon but his pencil. He begged with great humility, that Mr. Pickle would not think the worse of his morals for this defect of courage, which was a natural infirmity inherited from his father, and suspend his opinion of his talents, until he should have an opportunity of contemplating the charms of his Cleopatra, which would be finished in less than three months.
The winner, after claiming the spolia opima, spared his life on the condition that he would kneel and ask for forgiveness, admit that he was inferior to his conqueror in every way, and promise to earn his favor in the future through submission and respect. These demanding terms were eagerly accepted by the unfortunate challenger, who openly admitted that he was not suited for war and that from now on, he would only fight with his pencil. He humbly asked Mr. Pickle not to judge his character poorly because of this lack of courage, which was a natural weakness passed down from his father, and to hold off on forming an opinion about his talents until he had a chance to appreciate the beauty of his Cleopatra, which would be completed in less than three months.
Our hero observed, with an affected air of displeasure, that no man could be justly condemned for being subject to the impressions of fear, and therefore his cowardice might easily be forgiven: but there was something so presumptuous, dishonest, and disingenuous, in arrogating a quality to which he knew he had not the smallest pretension, that he could not forget his misbehaviour all at once, though he would condescend to communicate with him as formerly, in hopes of seeking a reformation in his conduct. Pallet protested, that there was no dissimulation in the case; for he was ignorant of his own weakness, until his resolution was put to the trial: he faithfully promised to demean himself, during the remaining part of the tour, with that conscious modesty and penitence which became a person in his condition; and, for the present, implored the assistance of Mr. Pipes, in disembarrassing him from the disagreeable consequence of his fear.
Our hero noted, with a feigned look of displeasure, that no man could justly be blamed for feeling fear, so his cowardice could be easily overlooked. However, there was something so arrogant, dishonest, and insincere about claiming a quality he knew he didn’t possess, that he couldn’t forget his bad behavior right away, even though he would be willing to engage with him like before, hoping to encourage a change in his actions. Pallet insisted there was no deceit involved; he hadn’t realized his own weakness until his courage was put to the test. He promised to conduct himself for the rest of the trip with the humility and regret appropriate for someone in his situation and, for now, asked Mr. Pipes for help in getting rid of the unpleasant consequences of his fear.
CHAPTER LXIV.
The Doctor exults in his Victory—They set out for Rotterdam, where they are entertained by two Dutch Gentlemen in a Yacht, which is overturned in the Maese, to the manifest hazard of the Painter's Life—They spend the Evening with their Entertainers, and next Day visit a Cabinet of Curiosities.
The Doctor celebrates his victory—they head to Rotterdam, where they are hosted by two Dutch gentlemen on a yacht, which capsizes in the Maese, putting the painter's life at serious risk. They spend the evening with their hosts and the next day visit a cabinet of curiosities.
Tom was accordingly ordered to administer to his occasions; and the conqueror, elated with his success, which he in a great measure attributed to his manner of attack, and the hymn which he howled, told Peregrine, that he was now convinced of the truth of what Pindar sung in these words, ossa de me pephileke Zeus atuzontai boan Pieridon aionta; for he had no sooner begun to repeat the mellifluent strains of that divine poet, than the wretch his antagonist was confounded, and his nerves unstrung.
Tom was ordered to take care of his needs; and the victor, feeling proud of his success—much of which he credited to his strategy and the song he shouted—told Peregrine that he was now convinced of the truth of what Pindar sang in these words, ossa de me pephileke Zeus atuzontai boan Pieridon aionta; for as soon as he started reciting the smooth verses of that great poet, his poor opponent was thrown into confusion, and his nerves became unsteady.
On their return to the inn, he expatiated on the prudence and tranquility of his own behaviour, and ascribed the consternation of Pallet to the remembrance of some crime that lay heavy upon his conscience; for, in his opinion, a man of virtue and common sense could not possibly be afraid of death, which is not only the peaceful harbour that receives him shattered on the tempestuous sea of life, but also the eternal seal of his fame and glory, which it is no longer in his power to forfeit and forego. He lamented his fate, in being doomed to live in such degenerate days, when war is become a mercenary trade; and ardently wished, that the day would come, when he should have such an opportunity of signalizing his courage in the cause of liberty, as that of Marathon, where a handful of Athenians, fighting for their freedom, defeated the whole strength of the Persian empire. “Would to heaven!” said he, “my muse were blessed with an occasion to emulate that glorious testimony on the trophy in Cyprus, erected by Cimon, for two great victories gained on the same day over the Persians by sea and land; in which it is very remarkable, that the greatness of the occasion has raised the manner of expression above the usual simplicity and modesty of all other ancient inscriptions.” He then repeated it with all the pomp of declamation, and signified his hope, that the French would one day invade us with such an army as that which Xerxes led into Greece, that it might be in his power to devote himself, like Leonidas, to the freedom of his country.
On their way back to the inn, he talked at length about his own wise and calm behavior, suggesting that Pallet's distress was due to guilt from a crime weighing heavily on his conscience. He believed that a person of virtue and common sense shouldn't be afraid of death, which he saw as the peaceful refuge that welcomes us after the stormy seas of life, and also as the eternal mark of our fame and glory that we can no longer lose or abandon. He mourned his fate, feeling stuck in such a corrupt time when war had become a money-driven business, and fervently hoped for a day when he could prove his bravery for the cause of freedom, like at Marathon, where a small group of Athenians fought for their freedom and defeated the entire Persian empire. “Would to heaven!” he exclaimed, “that my muse could have the chance to celebrate that glorious inscription on the trophy in Cyprus, put up by Cimon, for two great victories won on the same day over the Persians by land and sea; it’s noteworthy how the significance of the occasion elevates the expression beyond the usual plainness and humility of ancient inscriptions.” He then recited it dramatically, expressing his hope that the French would one day invade with an army like the one Xerxes led into Greece, so he could dedicate himself, like Leonidas, to the freedom of his country.
This memorable combat being thus determined, and everything that was remarkable in Antwerp surveyed, they sent their baggage down the Scheldt to Rotterdam, and set out for the same place in a post-waggon, which that same evening brought them in safety to the banks of the Maese. They put up at an English house of entertainment, remarkable for the modesty and moderation of the landlord; and next morning the doctor went in person to deliver letters of recommendation to two Dutch gentlemen from one of his acquaintance at Paris. Neither of them happened to be at home when he called; so that he left a message at their lodgings, with his address; and in the afternoon, they waited upon the company, and, after many hospitable professions, one of the two invited them to spend the evening at his house.
This unforgettable fight settled, and after seeing all the noteworthy sights in Antwerp, they sent their luggage down the Scheldt to Rotterdam and headed to the same place in a post-wagon, which safely delivered them to the banks of the Maese that evening. They stayed at an English inn known for the modesty and decency of its owner. The next morning, the doctor personally went to deliver letters of recommendation to two Dutch gentlemen from one of his friends in Paris. Unfortunately, neither of them was home when he stopped by, so he left a message at their place with his address. In the afternoon, they visited the group, and after many warm welcomes, one of the two invited them to spend the evening at his home.
Meanwhile they had provided a pleasure yacht, in which they proposed to treat them with an excursion upon the Maese. This being almost the only diversion that place affords, our young gentleman relished the proposal; and, notwithstanding the remonstrances of Mr. Jolter, who declined the voyage on account of the roughness of the weather, they went on board without hesitation, and found a collation prepared in the cabin. While they tacked to and fro in the river, under the impulse of a mackerel breeze, the physician expressed his satisfaction, and Pallet was ravished with the entertainment. But the wind increasing, to the unspeakable joy of the Dutchmen, who had now an opportunity of showing their dexterity in the management of the vessel, the guests found it inconvenient to stand upon deck, and impossible to sit below, on account of the clouds of tobacco smoke which rolled from the pipes of their entertainers, in such volumes as annoyed them even to the hazard of suffocation. This fumigation, together with the extraordinary motion of the ship, began to affect the head and stomach of the painter, who begged earnestly to be set on shore. But the Dutch gentlemen, who had no idea of his sufferings, insisted, with surprising obstinacy of regard, upon his staying until he should see an instance of the skill of the mariners; and, bringing him on deck, commanded the men to carry the vessel's lee gunwale under water. This nicety of navigation they instantly performed, to the admiration of Pickle, the discomposure of the doctor, and terror of Pallet, who blessed himself from the courtesy of a Dutchman, and prayed to Heaven for his deliverance.
Meanwhile, they had arranged a pleasure yacht for an outing on the Maese. Since this was pretty much the only fun available in that area, our young gentleman was excited about the idea; and, despite Mr. Jolter's protests, who refused to go due to the rough weather, they boarded without hesitation and discovered a meal prepared in the cabin. As they sailed back and forth in the river, buoyed by a light breeze, the physician expressed his enjoyment, and Pallet was thrilled with the entertainment. However, as the wind picked up, much to the delight of the Dutchmen, who were eager to show off their sailing skills, the guests found it uncomfortable to stand on deck and impossible to sit below due to the thick clouds of tobacco smoke billowing from their hosts' pipes, which were so dense it felt suffocating. This mix of smoke and the ship's wild motion began to affect the painter's head and stomach, prompting him to urgently request to be taken ashore. However, the Dutch gentlemen, unaware of his discomfort, insisted, with surprising insistence, that he stay until he could witness their sailing skills. They brought him on deck and instructed the crew to plunge the vessel's lee gunwale under the water. The sailors skillfully executed this maneuver, much to Pickle's astonishment, the doctor's distress, and Pallet's terror, who crossed himself to avoid Dutch hospitality and prayed for his escape.
While the Hollanders enjoyed the reputation of this feat, and the distress of the painter, at the same time, the yacht was overtaken by a sudden squall, that overset her in a moment, and flung every man overboard into the Maese, before they could have the least warning of their fate, much less time to provide against the accident. Peregrine, who was an expert swimmer, reached the shore in safety; the physician, in the agonies of despair, laid fast hold on the trunk-breeches of one of the men, who dragged him to the other side; the entertainers landed at the bomb-keys, smoking their pipes all the way with great deliberation; and the poor painter must have gone to the bottom, had not he been encountered by the cable of a ship that lay at anchor near the scene of their disaster. Though his senses had forsaken him, his hands fastened by instinct on this providential occurrence, which he held with such a convulsive grasp, that, when a boat was sent out to bring him on shore, it was with the utmost difficulty that his fingers were disengaged. He was carried into a house, deprived of the use of speech, and bereft of all sensation; and, being suspended by the heels, a vast quantity of water ran out of his mouth. This evacuation being made, he began to utter dreadful groans, which gradually increased to a continued roar; and, after he had regained the use of his senses, he underwent a delirium that lasted several hours. As for the treaters, they never dreamed of expressing the least concern to Pickle or the physician for what had happened, because it was an accident so common as to pass without notice.
While the Dutch took pride in this achievement, the painter was in distress when the yacht was suddenly hit by a squall that capsized it in an instant, throwing everyone overboard into the river before they had any warning of their fate, much less time to prepare for the mishap. Peregrine, being a skilled swimmer, made it to shore safely; the physician, in sheer panic, grabbed onto the pants of one of the men, who pulled him to safety; the entertainers reached the shore at the bomb-keys, leisurely smoking their pipes the entire way; and the poor painter would have surely drowned if he hadn’t come across the anchor chain of a nearby ship. Though he had lost his senses, he instinctively clung to this fortunate find with such a tight grip that when a boat arrived to bring him ashore, it was extremely difficult to pry his fingers off. He was taken to a house, unable to speak and completely unresponsive; after being hung upside down, a large amount of water poured out of his mouth. Once this was done, he began to let out terrible groans, which gradually escalated into a constant roar; and after recovering his senses, he experienced delirium that lasted several hours. As for the entertainers, they never even thought of showing any concern to Pickle or the physician about what had happened, as it was an accident so common that it went unnoticed.
Leaving the care of their vessel to the seamen, the company retired to their respective lodgings, in order to shift their clothes; and in the evening our travellers were conducted to the house of their new friend, who, with a view of making his invitation the more agreeable, had assembled, to the number of twenty or thirty Englishmen, of all ranks and degrees, from the merchant to the periwig-maker's prentice.
Leaving the care of their ship to the crew, the group went back to their lodgings to change their clothes. In the evening, our travelers were taken to the home of their new friend, who, in an effort to make his invitation more enjoyable, had gathered around twenty or thirty Englishmen of all backgrounds, from merchants to apprentices of wig-makers.
In the midst of this congregation stood a chafing-dish with live coals, for the convenience of lighting their pipes, and every individual was accommodated with a spitting-box. There was not a mouth in the apartment unfurnished with a tube, so that they resembled a congregation of chimeras breathing fire and smoke; and our gentlemen were fain to imitate their example in their own defence. It is not to be supposed that the conversation was either very sprightly or polite; that the whole entertainment was of the Dutch cast—frowzy and phlegmatic; and our adventurer, as he returned to his lodging, tortured with the headache, and disgusted with every circumstance of his treatment, cursed the hour in which the doctor had saddled them with such troublesome companions.
In the middle of the gathering stood a chafing-dish with live coals, ready for lighting their pipes, and everyone had a spitting box. There wasn't a mouth in the room without a tube, making them look like a group of chimeras breathing fire and smoke; our gentlemen had to mimic their behavior for self-defense. It wouldn't be fair to say the conversation was lively or polite; the whole experience had a Dutch vibe—messy and sluggish. As our adventurer made his way back to his lodging, suffering from a headache and frustrated with every aspect of his treatment, he cursed the moment the doctor had burdened them with such bothersome companions.
Next morning by eight o'clock, these polite Hollanders returned the visit, and, after breakfast, attended their English friends to the house of a person that possessed a very curious cabinet of curiosities, to which they had secured our company's admission. The owner of this collection was a cheesemonger, who received them in a woollen nightcap, with straps buttoned under his chin. As he understood no language but his own, he told them, by the canal of one of their conductors, that he did not make a practice of showing his curiosities; but understanding that they were Englishmen, and recommended to his friends, he was content to submit them to their perusal. So saying, he led them up a dark stair, into a small room, decorated with a few paltry figures in plaster of Paris, two or three miserable landscapes, the skins of an otter, seal, and some fishes stuffed; and in one corner stood a glass case, furnished with newts, frogs, lizards, and serpents, preserved in spirits; a human foetus, a calf with two heads, and about two dozen of butterflies pinned upon paper.
The next morning by eight o'clock, these polite Dutchmen paid a visit, and after breakfast, they took their English friends to a place belonging to someone with a very unique collection of curiosities, for which they had arranged admission. The owner of this collection was a cheesemonger, who welcomed them wearing a woolen nightcap with straps fastened under his chin. Since he spoke no language but his own, he communicated through one of their guides that he didn’t usually show his curiosities; however, knowing they were Englishmen and recommended by his friends, he agreed to let them have a look. With that, he led them up a dark staircase into a small room adorned with a few cheap plaster figures, a couple of lackluster landscapes, and the skins of an otter, a seal, and some stuffed fish; in one corner stood a glass case filled with newts, frogs, lizards, and snakes preserved in alcohol, along with a human fetus, a two-headed calf, and about two dozen butterflies pinned to paper.
The virtuoso having exhibited these particulars, eyed the strangers with a look soliciting admiration and applause; and as he could not perceive any symptom of either in their gestures or countenances, withdrew a curtain, and displayed a wainscot chest of drawers, in which, he gave them to understand, was something that would agreeably amuse the imagination. Our travellers, regaled with this notice, imagined that they would be entertained with the sight of some curious medals, or other productions of antiquity; but how were they disappointed, when they saw nothing but a variety of shells, disposed in whimsical figures, in each drawer! After he had detained them full two hours with a tedious commentary upon the shape, size, and colour of each department, he, with a supercilious simper, desired that the English gentlemen would frankly and candidly declare, whether his cabinet, or that of Mynheer Sloane, at London, was the most valuable. When this request was signified in English to the company, the painter instantly exclaimed, “By the Lard! they are not to be named of a day. And as for that matter, I would not give one corner of Saltero's coffee-house at Chelsea for all the trash he hath shown.” Peregrine, unwilling to mortify any person who had done his endeavour to please him, observed, that what he had seen was very curious and entertaining; but that no private collection in Europe was equal to that of Sir Hans Sloane, which, exclusive of presents, had cost an hundred thousand pounds. The two conductors were confounded at this asseveration, which, being communicated to the cheesemonger, he shook his head with a significant grin; and, though he did not choose to express his incredulity in words, gave our hero to understand, that he did not much depend upon his veracity. From the house of this Dutch naturalist, they were draggled all round the city by the painful civility of their attendants, who did not quit them till the evening was well advanced, and then not till after they had promised to be with them before ten o'clock next day, in order to conduct them to a country house, situated in a pleasant village on the other side of the river.
The virtuoso, having shown these details, looked at the strangers with an expression seeking admiration and applause; and since he couldn’t see any signs of either in their gestures or faces, he pulled back a curtain and revealed a wooden chest of drawers, indicating that there was something inside that would pleasantly capture their imagination. Our travelers, excited by this announcement, thought they would be treated to some interesting medals or other antiquities; but they were disappointed to find nothing but a variety of shells arranged in odd shapes in each drawer! After he had kept them occupied for a full two hours with a tedious commentary on the shape, size, and color of each section, he, with an arrogant smile, asked the English gentlemen to honestly and openly state whether his collection or that of Mynheer Sloane in London was more valuable. When this request was translated into English for the group, the painter immediately exclaimed, “By God! They can't even be compared. And as for that, I wouldn’t trade one corner of Saltero's coffee house in Chelsea for all the junk he’s shown.” Peregrine, not wanting to offend someone who had made an effort to entertain him, remarked that what he had seen was indeed very curious and entertaining; but that no private collection in Europe could compare to that of Sir Hans Sloane, which, not counting gifts, had cost a hundred thousand pounds. The two guides were taken aback by this statement, which, when passed on to the cheesemonger, made him shake his head with a knowing grin; and although he didn’t express his disbelief verbally, he let our hero know that he didn’t put much faith in his honesty. From the home of this Dutch naturalist, they were taken all around the city by the overly polite attendants, who didn’t leave them until well into the evening, and only after they promised to meet them before ten o’clock the next day to guide them to a country house located in a nice village on the other side of the river.
Pickle was already so much fatigued with their hospitality, that, for the first time of his life, he suffered a dejection of spirits; and resolved, at any rate, to avoid the threatened persecution of to-morrow. With this view, he ordered his servants to pack up some clothes and linen in a portmanteau; and in the morning embarked, with his governor, in the treckskuyt, for the Hague, whither he pretended to be called by some urgent occasion, leaving his fellow-travellers to make his apology to their friends, and assuring them, that he would not proceed for Amsterdam without their society. He arrived at the Hague in the forenoon, and dined at an ordinary frequented by officers and people of fashion; where being informed that the princess would see company in the evening, he dressed himself in a rich suit of the Parisian cut, and went to court, without any introduction. A person of his appearance could not fail to attract the notice of such a small circle. The prince himself, understanding he was an Englishman and a stranger, went up to him without ceremony, and, having welcomed him to the place, conversed with him for some minutes on the common topics of discourse.
Pickle was already so worn out by their hospitality that, for the first time in his life, he felt a wave of sadness; and he decided, no matter what, to avoid the expected harassment the next day. To this end, he had his servants pack some clothes and linens into a suitcase, and in the morning, he set off with his governor on the treckskuyt to The Hague, claiming he was urgently called there for some reason, leaving his fellow travelers to apologize to their friends for him and assuring them that he wouldn't head to Amsterdam without their company. He arrived in The Hague in the morning and had lunch at a tavern popular with officers and fashionable people; there, learning that the princess would receive guests in the evening, he got dressed in a fancy suit tailored in the Parisian style and went to court without any introduction. A person of his appearance was bound to catch attention in such a small gathering. The prince himself, realizing he was an Englishman and a newcomer, approached him without formality, welcomed him to the place, and talked with him for several minutes about general topics.
CHAPTER LXV.
They proceed to the Hague; from whence they depart for Amsterdam, where they see a Dutch Tragedy—Visit the Music-house, in which Peregrine quarrels with the Captain of a Man-of-War—They pass through Haerlem, in their way to Leyden—Return to Rotterdam, where the Company separates, and our Hero, with his Attendants, arrive in safety at Harwich.
They go to The Hague; from there, they leave for Amsterdam, where they watch a Dutch tragedy—Visit a music venue, where Peregrine gets into a fight with the captain of a warship—they travel through Haarlem on their way to Leiden—Return to Rotterdam, where the group splits up, and our hero, along with his friends, safely arrives in Harwich.
Being joined by their fellow-travellers in the morning, they made a tour to all the remarkable places in this celebrated village: saw the foundry, the Stadthouse, the Spinhuys, Vauxhall, and Count Bentinck's gardens; and in the evening went to the French comedy, which was directed by a noted harlequin, who had found means to flatter the Dutch taste so effectually, that they extolled him as the greatest actor that ever appeared in the province of Holland. This famous company did not represent regular theatrical pieces, but only a sort of impromptus, in which this noted player always performed the greatest part of the entertainment. Among other sallies of wit that escaped him, there was one circumstance so remarkably adapted to the disposition and genius of his audience, that it were a pity to pass it over in silence. A windmill being exhibited on the scene, harlequin, after having surveyed it with curiosity and admiration, asks one of the millers the use of that machine; and being told that it was a windmill, observes, with some concern, that as there was not the least breath of wind, he could not have the pleasure of seeing it turn round. Urged by this consideration, he puts himself into the attitude of a person wrapt in profound meditation; and, having continued a few seconds in this posture, runs to the miller with great eagerness and joy, and, telling him that he had found an expedient to make his mill work; very fairly unbuttons his breeches. Then presenting his posteriors to the sails of the machine, certain explosions are immediately heard, and the arms of the mill begin to turn round, to the infinite satisfaction of the spectators, who approve the joke with loud peals of applause.
Being joined by their fellow travelers in the morning, they toured all the notable places in this famous village: they saw the foundry, the town hall, the Spinhuys, Vauxhall, and Count Bentinck's gardens; and in the evening they went to a French comedy, which was directed by a well-known harlequin who had successfully catered to the Dutch taste so well that they hailed him as the greatest actor to ever appear in Holland. This famous troupe didn’t perform traditional plays but only a kind of improvisational comedy, where this acclaimed actor always took on the lead role. Among the various witty remarks he made, there was one moment specifically suited to the mood and character of his audience that deserves mention. When a windmill was showcased on stage, the harlequin, after inspecting it with curiosity and admiration, asked one of the millers what that machine was for; being told it was a windmill, he expressed some disappointment that, since there wasn’t a single breeze, he couldn’t enjoy watching it turn. Inspired by this thought, he struck a pose as if deep in contemplation; after a few seconds in this stance, he excitedly rushed to the miller, filled with joy, and declared that he had come up with a way to make the mill work; he then unbuttoned his pants. Presenting his backside to the sails of the machine, loud explosions were heard immediately, and the mill’s arms began to spin, much to the delight of the spectators, who responded with loud bursts of applause.
Our travellers stayed a few days at the Hague, during which the young gentleman waited on the British ambassador, to whom he was recommended by his excellency at Paris, and lost about thirty guineas at billiards to a French adventurer, who decoyed him into the snare by keeping up his game. Then they departed in a post-waggon for Amsterdam, being provided with letters of introduction to an English merchant residing in that city, under whose auspices they visited everything worth seeing, and among other excursions, went to see a Dutch tragedy acted, an entertainment which, of all others, had the strangest effect upon the organs of our hero; the dress of their chief personages was so antic, their manner so awkwardly absurd, and their language so ridiculously unfit for conveying the sentiment of love and honour, that Peregrine's nerves were diuretically affected with the complicated absurdity, and he was compelled to withdraw twenty times before the catastrophe of the piece.
Our travelers spent a few days in The Hague, during which the young gentleman visited the British ambassador, who had been recommended to him by his excellency in Paris, and lost about thirty guineas at billiards to a French con artist who lured him in by playing well. Then they left in a stagecoach for Amsterdam, armed with letters of introduction to an English merchant living there, under whose guidance they explored all the sights worth seeing. Among other outings, they went to see a Dutch tragedy performed, which had the most bizarre effect on our hero; the costumes of the main characters were so ridiculous, their mannerisms so awkwardly absurd, and their language so laughably inadequate for expressing love and honor, that Peregrine's nerves were so unsettled by the overwhelming absurdity that he had to step out twenty times before the play ended.
The subject of this performance was the famous story of Scipio's continence and virtue, in restoring the fair captive to her lover. The young Roman hero was represented by a broadfaced Batavian, in a burgomaster's gown and a fur cap, sitting smoking his pipe at a table furnished with a can of beer, a drinking glass, and a plate of tobacco. The lady was such a person as Scipio might well be supposed to give away, without any great effort of generosity; and indeed the Celtiberian prince seemed to be of that opinion; for, upon receiving her from the hand of the victor, he discovered none of those transports of gratitude and joy which Livy describes in recounting this event. The Dutch Scipio, however, was complaisant enough in his way; for he desired her to sit at his right hand, by the appellation of Ya frow, and with his own fingers filling a clean pipe, presented it to Mynheer Allucio, the lover. The rest of the economy of the piece was in the same taste; which was so agreeable to the audience, that they seemed to have shaken off their natural phlegm, in order to applaud the performance.
The subject of this performance was the well-known story of Scipio's self-control and virtue in returning the beautiful captive to her lover. The young Roman hero was portrayed by a broad-faced Batavian, dressed in a mayor's gown and a fur hat, sitting at a table smoking his pipe, which had a can of beer, a drinking glass, and a plate of tobacco. The lady was exactly the kind of person Scipio would be expected to give away without much effort, and the Celtiberian prince seemed to agree; when he received her from the hands of the victor, he showed none of the overwhelming gratitude and joy that Livy describes in recounting this event. The Dutch Scipio, however, was quite courteous in his way; he asked her to sit at his right side, referring to her as Ya frow, and with his own hands filled a clean pipe and offered it to Mynheer Allucio, the lover. The rest of the performance followed the same style, which was so enjoyable for the audience that they seemed to shed their usual indifference to applaud the show.
From the play our company adjourned to the house of their friend, where they spent the evening; and the conversation turning upon poetry, a Dutchman who was present, and understood the English language, having listened very attentively to the discourse, lifted up with both hands the greatest part of a Cheshire cheese that lay upon the table, saying, “I do know vat is boetre. Mine brotre be a great boet, and ave vrought a book as dick as all dat.” Pickle, diverted with this method of estimating an author according to the quantity of his works, inquired about the subjects of this bard's writings; but of these his brother could give no account, or other information, but that there was little market for the commodity, which hung heavy upon his hands, and induced him to wish he had applied himself to another trade.
After the play, our group headed to a friend's house, where they spent the evening. The conversation shifted to poetry, and a Dutchman who was there and spoke English attentively listened. He picked up most of a Cheshire cheese on the table and said, “I know what poetry is. My brother is a great poet and has written a book as thick as all that.” Pickle, amused by this way of judging an author by the volume of their work, asked about the themes of this poet's writings. However, his brother couldn't provide any details or information other than that there wasn't much demand for it, which weighed heavily on him and made him wish he had chosen a different profession.
The only remarkable scene in Amsterdam, which our company had not seen, was the Spuyl or music-houses, which, by the connivance of the magistrates, are maintained for the recreation of those who might attempt the chastity of creditable women, if they were not provided with such conveniences. To one of these night-houses did our travellers repair, under the conduct of the English merchant, and were introduced into such another place as the ever-memorable coffee-house of Moll King; with this difference, that the company here were not so riotous as the bucks of Covent Garden, but formed themselves into a circle, within which some of the number danced to the music of a scurvy organ and a few other instruments, that uttered tunes very suitable to the disposition of the hearers, while the whole apartment was shrouded with clouds of smoke impervious to the view. When our gentlemen entered, the floor was occupied by two females and their gallants, who, in the performance of their exercise, lifted their legs like so many oxen at plough and the pipe of one of those hoppers happening to be exhausted, in the midst of his saraband, he very deliberately drew forth his tobacco-box, filling and lighting it again, without any interruption to the dance.
The only notable scene in Amsterdam that our group hadn’t experienced was the Spuyl or music houses, which, with the help of the local authorities, are kept open for the entertainment of those who might pursue the virtue of respectable women if not provided with such options. Our travelers went to one of these night spots, guided by an English merchant, and found a setting similar to the unforgettable coffee house of Moll King; the main difference being that the crowd here was not as rowdy as the young men of Covent Garden but instead formed a circle, within which some danced to the tunes of a shabby organ and a few other instruments that played music well-suited to the mood of the audience, while the entire room was filled with thick clouds of smoke that obscured visibility. When our gentlemen arrived, the floor was taken up by two women and their partners, who, while dancing, lifted their legs with the grace of oxen plowing, and when one of the dancers ran out of pipe tobacco in the midst of his lively dance, he calmly took out his tobacco box, refilled and lit it again without missing a beat in the performance.
Peregrine being unchecked by the presence of his governor, who was too tender of his own reputation to attend them in this expedition, made up to a sprightly French girl who sat in seeming expectation of a customer, and prevailing upon her to be his partner, led her into the circle, and in his turn took the opportunity of dancing a minuet, to the admiration of all present. He intended to have exhibited another specimen of his ability in this art, when a captain of a Dutch man-of-war chancing to come in, and seeing a stranger engaged with the lady whom, it seems, he had bespoke for his bedfellow, he advanced without any ceremony, and seizing her by the arm, pulled her to the other side of the room. Our adventurer, who was not a man to put up with such a brutal affront, followed the ravisher with indignation in his eyes; and pushing him on one side, retook the subject of their contest, and led her back to the place from whence she had been dragged. The Dutchman, enraged at the youth's presumption, obeyed the first dictates of his choler, and lent his rival a hearty box on the ear; which was immediately repaid with interest, before our hero could recollect himself sufficiently to lay his hand upon his sword, and beckon the aggressor to the door.
Peregrine, feeling free without his governor around—who was too concerned about his own reputation to join them on this outing—approached a lively French girl who seemed to be waiting for a customer. After convincing her to be his partner, he led her into the circle and took the chance to dance a minuet, impressing everyone there. He planned to show off his skills again, but then a captain from a Dutch warship walked in and saw a stranger with the girl he wanted for himself. Without any hesitation, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the other side of the room. Peregrine, not one to tolerate such a rude act, followed the captain with anger in his eyes. He pushed the man aside, reclaimed the girl, and brought her back to the spot from where she had been taken. The Dutch captain, furious at the young man's boldness, reacted impulsively and slapped him hard. Peregrine quickly retaliated with more force before he could gather himself enough to reach for his sword and signal the attacker to step outside.
Notwithstanding the confusion and disorder which this affair produced in the room, and the endeavours of Pickle's company, who interposed, in order to prevent bloodshed, the antagonists reached the street; and Peregrine drawing, was surprised to see the captain advance against him with a long knife, which he preferred to the sword that hung by his side. The youth, confounded at this preposterous behaviour, desired him, in the French tongue, to lay aside that vulgar implement, and approach like a gentleman. But the Hollander, who neither understood the proposal, nor would have complied with this demand, had he been made acquainted with his meaning, rushed forward like a desperado, before his adversary could put himself on his guard; and if the young gentleman had not been endued with surprising agility, his nose would have fallen a sacrifice to the fury of the assailant. Finding himself in such imminent jeopardy, he leaped to one side, and the Dutchman passing him, in the force of his career, he with one nimble kick made such application to his enemy's heels, that he flew like lightning into the canal, where he had almost perished by pitching upon one of the posts with which it is faced.
Despite the chaos and confusion this situation caused in the room, and the efforts of Pickle's group, who tried to prevent any violence, the rivals made it to the street. Peregrine, drawing his weapon, was shocked to see the captain coming at him with a long knife, which he preferred over the sword at his side. The young man, baffled by this absurd behavior, asked him in French to put away that crude weapon and approach like a gentleman. However, the Dutchman neither understood the request nor would have complied even if he had, and charged forward like a madman before Peregrine could prepare himself. If the young man hadn't been remarkably agile, he might have lost his nose to the attacking man. Realizing he was in serious danger, he jumped to the side, and as the Dutchman rushed past him, he skillfully kicked at the man's heels, sending him flying into the canal, where he nearly drowned after crashing into one of the posts lining it.
Peregrine having performed this exploit, did not stay for the captain's coming on shore, but retreated with all despatch, by the advice of his conductor; and next day embarked, with his companions, in the skuyt, for Haerlem, where they dined; and in the evening arrived at the ancient city of Leyden, where they met with some English students, who treated them with great hospitality. Not but that the harmony of the conversation was that same night interrupted by a dispute that arose between one of those young gentlemen and the physician, about the cold and hot methods of prescription in the gout and rheumatism; and proceeded to such a degree of mutual reviling, that Pickle, ashamed and incensed at his fellow-traveller's want of urbanity, espoused the other's cause, and openly rebuked him for his unmannerly petulance, which, he said, rendered him unfit for the purposes, and unworthy of the benefit, of society. This unexpected declaration overwhelmed the doctor with amazement and confusion; he was instantaneously deprived of his speech, and, during the remaining part of the party, sat in silent mortification. In all probability, he deliberated with himself, whether or not he should expostulate with the young gentleman on the freedom he had taken with his character in a company of strangers; but as he knew he had not a Pallet to deal with, he very prudently suppressed that suggestion, and, in secret, chewed the cud of resentment.
Peregrine, after accomplishing this task, didn’t wait for the captain to come ashore but quickly left, following his guide’s advice. The next day, he and his companions boarded the skuyt to Haerlem, where they had lunch, and later that evening arrived in the ancient city of Leyden. There, they met some English students who welcomed them warmly. However, the pleasant conversation was interrupted that very night by an argument that broke out between one of the young men and the doctor over the hot and cold treatment methods for gout and rheumatism. The dispute escalated into harsh insults, prompting Pickle, embarrassed and angered by his travel companion’s rudeness, to defend the other young man and publicly reprimand the doctor for his lack of civility, stating that it made him unworthy of being a part of society. This unexpected comment shocked the doctor into silence and embarrassment; he lost his ability to speak and sat in quiet humiliation for the rest of the evening. Likely, he considered confronting the young man about the way he had criticized him in front of strangers, but since he knew he was outmatched, he wisely chose to keep his thoughts to himself and secretly harbored feelings of resentment.
After they had visited the physic-garden, the university, the anatomical hall, and every other thing that was recommended to their view, they returned to Rotterdam, and held a consultation upon the method of transporting themselves to England. The doctor, whose grudge against Peregrine was rather inflamed than allayed by our hero's indifference and neglect, had tampered with the simplicity of the painter, who was proud of his advances towards a perfect reconciliation, and now took the opportunity of parting with our adventurer, by declaring that he and his friend Mr. Pallet were resolved to take their passage in a trading sloop, after he had heard Peregrine object against that tedious, disagreeable, and uncertain method of conveyance. Pickle immediately saw his intention, and, without using the least argument to dissuade them from their design, or expressing the smallest degree of concern at their separation, very coolly wished them a prosperous voyage, and ordered his baggage to be sent to Helvoetsluys. There he himself, and his retinue, went on board of the packet next day, and, by the favour of a fair wind, in eighteen hours arrived at Harwich.
After visiting the physic garden, the university, the anatomy hall, and everything else recommended to them, they returned to Rotterdam and discussed how to get to England. The doctor, whose resentment toward Peregrine was fueled by our hero's indifference and neglect, had influenced the painter, who was proud of making progress toward a reconciliation. Now, he took the chance to part ways with our adventurer by stating that he and his friend Mr. Pallet were set on taking a trading sloop after hearing Peregrine express his objections to that long, uncomfortable, and unpredictable means of travel. Pickle immediately recognized his intention, and without trying to convince them otherwise or showing any concern about their departure, coolly wished them a safe journey and arranged for his luggage to be sent to Helvoetsluys. The next day, he and his entourage boarded the packet and, thanks to a favorable wind, reached Harwich in eighteen hours.
CHAPTER LXVI.
Peregrine delivers his Letters of Recommendation at London, and returns to the Garrison, to the unspeakable joy of the Commodore and his whole Family.
Peregrine delivers his Letters of Recommendation in London and goes back to the Garrison, bringing immense joy to the Commodore and his entire family.
Now that our hero found himself on English ground, his heart dilated with the proud recollection of his own improvement since he left his native soil. He began to recognise the interesting ideas of his tender years; he enjoyed, by anticipation, the pleasure of seeing his friends in the garrison, after an absence of eighteen months; and the image of his charming Emily, which other less worthy considerations had depressed, resumed the full possession of his breast. He remembered, with shame, that he had neglected the correspondence with her brother, which he himself had solicited, and in consequence of which he had received a letter from that young gentleman, while he lived at Paris. In spite of these conscientious reflections he was too self-sufficient to think he should find any difficulty in obtaining forgiveness for such sins of omission; and began to imagine that his passion would be prejudicial to the dignity of his situation, if it should not be gratified upon terms which formerly his imagination durst not conceive.
Now that our hero was on English soil, his heart swelled with pride as he remembered how much he had improved since leaving his homeland. He began to recall the exciting thoughts of his younger years; he looked forward to the joy of seeing his friends at the garrison after being away for eighteen months, and the image of his lovely Emily, which other less deserving thoughts had pushed aside, returned fully to his mind. He felt ashamed that he had neglected to keep in touch with her brother, a correspondence he had asked for, and as a result, he had received a letter from that young man while living in Paris. Despite these guilty thoughts, he was too confident to believe he would have any trouble winning forgiveness for such oversights, and he started to think that his feelings might compromise the dignity of his position if they were not satisfied on terms he could not have imagined before.
Sorry I am, that the task I have undertaken, lays me under the necessity of divulging this degeneracy in the sentiment of our imperious youth, who was now in the heyday of his blood, flushed with the consciousness of his own qualifications, vain of his fortune, and elated on the wings of imaginary expectation. Though he was deeply enamoured of Miss Gauntlet, he was far from proposing her heart as the ultimate aim of his gallantry, which, he did not doubt, would triumph over the most illustrious females of the land, and at once regale his appetite and ambition.
Sorry to say, the task I've taken on requires me to reveal the decline in the feelings of our dominant youth, who was now in the prime of his life, filled with pride over his own abilities, boastful of his wealth, and lifted by his lofty ambitions. Although he was deeply in love with Miss Gauntlet, he had no intention of making her love the ultimate goal of his pursuits, which he believed would succeed with the most distinguished women in the country, satisfying both his desires and ambitions.
Meanwhile, being willing to make his appearance at the garrison equally surprising and agreeable, he cautioned Mr. Jolter against writing to the commodore, who had not heard of them since their departure from Paris, and hired a post-chaise and horses, for London. The governor, going out to give orders about the carriage, inadvertently left a paper book open upon the table; and his pupil, casting his eyes upon the page, chanced to read these words: “Sept. 15. Arrived in safety, by the blessing of God, in this unhappy kingdom of England. And thus concludes the journal of my last peregrination.” Peregrine's curiosity being inflamed by this extraordinary conclusion he turned to the beginning, and perused several sheets of a diary such as is commonly kept by that class of people known by the denomination of travelling governors, for the satisfaction of themselves and the parents or guardians of their pupils, and for the edification and entertainment of their friends.
Meanwhile, wanting to make his arrival at the garrison both surprising and pleasant, he advised Mr. Jolter not to write to the commodore, who hadn’t heard from them since they left Paris, and arranged for a post-chaise and horses to London. The governor, stepping out to give instructions about the carriage, accidentally left an open notebook on the table; his pupil, glancing at the page, happened to read these words: “Sept. 15. Arrived safely, by the blessing of God, in this unfortunate kingdom of England. And thus ends the journal of my last journey.” Peregrine’s curiosity was sparked by this unusual conclusion, so he flipped to the beginning and read through several pages of a diary typically kept by those known as traveling governors, for the benefit of themselves and the parents or guardians of their students, as well as for the enjoyment and education of their friends.
That the reader may have a clear idea of Mr. Jolter's performance, we shall transcribe the transactions of one day, as he had recorded them; and that abstract will be a sufficient specimen of the whole plan and execution of the work.
To give the reader a clear understanding of Mr. Jolter's work, we'll share the records of a single day as he noted them; this summary will serve as a sufficient example of the entire plan and execution of the project.
“May 3. At eight o'clock, set out from Boulogne in a post-chaise: the morning hazy and cold. Fortified my stomach with a cordial. Recommended ditto to Mr. P. as an antidote against the fog. Mem. He refused it. The hither horse greased in the off-pastern of the hind leg. Arrived at Samers. Mem. This last was a post and a half, i.e. three leagues, or nine English miles. The day clears up. A fine champaign country, well stored with corn. The postillion says his prayers in passing by a wooden crucifix upon the road. Mem. The horses staled in a small brook that runs in a bottom, betwixt two hills. Arrived at Cormont. A common post. A dispute with my pupil, who is obstinate, and swayed by an unlucky prejudice. Proceed to Montreuil, where we dine on choice pigeons. A very moderate charge. No chamber-pot in the room, owing to the negligence of the maid. This is an ordinary post. Set out again for Nampont. Troubled with flatulences and indigestion. Mr. P. is sullen, and seems to mistake an eructation for the breaking of wind backwards. From Nampont depart for Bernay, at which place we arrive in the evening, and propose to stay all night. N.B. The two last a redouble posts, and our cattle very willing, though not strong. Sup on a delicate ragout and excellent partridges, in company with Mr. H. and his spouse. Mem. The said H. trod upon my corn by mistake. Discharge the bill, which is not very reasonable. Dispute with Mr. P. about giving money to the servant. He insists upon my giving a twenty-four sol piece, which is too much by two-thirds, in all conscience. N.B. She was a pert baggage, and did not deserve a liard.”
“May 3. At eight o'clock, I left Boulogne in a carriage: the morning was hazy and cold. I had a cordial to settle my stomach and suggested the same to Mr. P. as an antidote against the fog. Note: He refused it. The near horse was limping in the off-pastern of the hind leg. We arrived at Samers. Note: This stretch was one and a half posts, or about three leagues, which is nine English miles. The day started to clear up. It’s a nice open country, well stocked with corn. The postboy says his prayers as we pass a wooden crucifix on the road. Note: The horses relieved themselves in a small stream running between two hills. We arrived at Cormont. A standard post. I had an argument with my pupil, who is stubborn and influenced by a bad assumption. We headed to Montreuil, where we had a nice dinner of pigeons at a very reasonable price. There was no chamber pot in the room, due to the maid's carelessness. This was just an ordinary post. We set off again for Nampont. I was feeling gassy and had indigestion. Mr. P. was moody and seemed to confuse a burp for flatulence. From Nampont, we left for Bernay, where we arrived in the evening and planned to stay the night. Note: The last two were double posts, and our horses were eager, though not very strong. We had dinner of a delicious stew and excellent partridges, with Mr. H. and his wife. Note: Mr. H. accidentally stepped on my foot. I paid the bill, which was not very fair. I argued with Mr. P. about tipping the servant. He insisted I give a twenty-four sol piece, which is way too much by two-thirds, if we’re being honest. Note: She was a cheeky girl and didn’t deserve a penny.”
Our hero was so much disobliged with certain circumstances of this amusing and instructing journal, that, by way of punishing the author, he interlined these words betwixt two paragraphs, in a manner that exactly resembled the tutor's handwriting: “Mem. Had the pleasure of drinking myself into a sweet intoxication, by toasting our lawful king, and his royal family, among some worthy English fathers of the Society of Jesus.”
Our hero was so annoyed by certain aspects of this entertaining and educational journal that, as a way to get back at the author, he inserted these words between two paragraphs, in a style that perfectly matched the tutor's handwriting: “Note: I had the pleasure of drinking myself into a nice buzz by toasting our rightful king and his royal family, along with some respectable English members of the Society of Jesus.”
Having taken this revenge, he set out for London, where he waited upon those noblemen to whom he had letters of recommendation from Paris; and was not only graciously received, but even loaded with caresses and proffers of service, because they understood he was a young gentleman of fortune, who, far from standing in need of their countenance or assistance, would make a useful and creditable addition to the number of their adherents. He had the honour of dining at their tables, in consequence of pressing invitations, and of spending several evenings with the ladies, to whom he was particularly agreeable, on account of his person, address, and bleeding freely at play.
Having taken his revenge, he headed to London, where he visited the noblemen who had letters of recommendation from Paris. He was not only warmly welcomed but also showered with affection and offers of help because they recognized him as a young man of means, who, rather than needing their support, would be a valuable and respectable addition to their circle. He had the honor of dining at their tables due to their enthusiastic invitations and spent several evenings with the ladies, who found him particularly charming because of his looks, manner, and willingness to spend generously while playing games.
Being thus initiated in the beau monde, he thought it was high time to pay his respects to his generous benefactor, the commodore; and, accordingly, departed one morning, with his train, for the garrison, at which he arrived in safety the same night. When he entered the gate, which was opened by a new servant that did not know him, he found his old friend, Hatchway, stalking in the yard, with a nightcap on his head, and a pipe in his mouth; and, advancing to him, took him by the hand before he had any intimation of his approach. The lieutenant, thus saluted by a stranger, stared at him in silent astonishment, till he recollected his features, which were no sooner known, than, dashing his pipe upon the pavement, he exclaimed, “Smite my cross-trees! th'art welcome to port;” and hugged him in his arms with great affection. He then, by a cordial squeeze, expressed his satisfaction at seeing his old shipmate, Tom, who, applying his whistle to his mouth, the whole castle echoed with his performance.
Being part of the high society now, he thought it was the perfect time to show appreciation to his generous benefactor, the commodore. So, one morning, he set off with his entourage for the garrison, arriving safely that same night. When he entered the gate, opened by a new servant who didn’t recognize him, he found his old friend, Hatchway, wandering in the yard, wearing a nightcap and smoking a pipe. He went up to him and shook his hand before Hatchway even noticed he was there. The lieutenant, taken aback by this stranger, stared in silent shock until he recognized him. As soon as he did, he smashed his pipe on the ground and shouted, “Smite my cross-trees! You’re welcome to port!” and pulled him into a warm embrace. Then, with a hearty squeeze, he showed how happy he was to see his old shipmate, Tom, who then blew his whistle, filling the whole castle with the sound.
The servants, hearing the well-known sound, poured out in a tumult of joy; and, understanding that their young master was returned, raised such a peal of acclamation, as astonished the commodore and his lady, and inspired Julia with such an interesting presage, that her heart began to throb with violence. Running out in the hurry and perturbation of her hope, she was so much overwhelmed at sight of her brother, that she actually fainted in his arms. But from this trance she soon awaked; and Peregrine, having testified his pleasure and affection, went upstairs, and presented himself before his godfather and aunt. Mrs. Trunnion rose and received him with a gracious embrace, blessing God for his happy return from a land of impiety and vice, in which she hoped his morals had not been corrupted, nor his principles of religion altered or impaired. The old gentleman being confined to his chair, was struck dumb with pleasure at his appearance; and, having made divers ineffectual efforts to get up, at length discharged a volley of curses against his own limbs, and held out his hand to his godson, who kissed it with great respect.
The servants, hearing the familiar sound, rushed out in a joyful uproar; and realizing that their young master had returned, they let out such a cheer that it astonished the commodore and his wife, and gave Julia such a thrilling sense of anticipation that her heart started racing. Running out in the excitement and anxiety of her hope, she was so overwhelmed at the sight of her brother that she actually fainted in his arms. But she soon came to; and Peregrine, having shown his happiness and affection, went upstairs to present himself to his godfather and aunt. Mrs. Trunnion stood up and welcomed him with a warm embrace, thanking God for his safe return from a place of wickedness and immorality, hoping that his morals hadn’t been tainted and that his religious principles remained intact. The old gentleman, confined to his chair, was speechless with joy at his arrival; and after several unsuccessful attempts to stand, he finally let out a stream of curses at his own legs and extended his hand to his godson, who kissed it with great respect.
After he had finished his apostrophe to the gout, which was the daily and hourly subject of his execrations, “Well, my lad,” said he, “I care not how soon I go to the bottom, now I behold thee safe in harbour again; and yet I tell a d—d lie; I would I could keep afloat until I should see a lusty boy of thy begetting. Odds my timbers! I love thee so well, that I believe thou art the spawn of my own body; though I can give no account of thy being put upon the stocks.” Then, turning his eyes upon Pipes, who by this time had penetrated into his apartment, and addressed him with the usual salutation of “What cheer?” “Ahey,” cried he, “are you there, you herring-faced son of a sea-calf? What a slippery trick you played your old commander! But come, you dog, there's my fist; I forgive you, for the love you bear to my godson. Go, man your tackle, and hoist a cask of strong beer into the yard, knock out the bung, and put a pump in it, for the use of all my servants and neighbours; and, d'ye hear, let the patereroes be fired, and the garrison illuminated, as rejoicings for the safe arrival of your master. By the Lord! if I had the use of these d—d shambling shanks, I would dance a hornpipe with the best of you.”
After he finished cursing the gout, which he complained about all day and night, “Well, my lad,” he said, “I don’t care how soon I hit rock bottom now that I see you safe in harbor again; and yet I’m lying when I say that—I wish I could stay afloat long enough to see a strong boy of your kind. Good grief! I love you so much that I think you’re the result of my own blood; although I can’t explain how you were ever brought into being.” Then, turning his gaze to Pipes, who had entered his room by this point and greeted him with the usual “What’s up?” “Hey,” he shouted, “is that you, you fish-faced son of a sea calf? What a slippery trick you pulled on your old commander! But come here, you rascal, here’s my fist; I forgive you for the love you have for my godson. Go, man your gear and bring a barrel of strong beer into the yard, knock out the tap, and put a pump in it for all my servants and neighbors to use; and, do you hear me, let the fireworks be set off and the place lit up, to celebrate your master’s safe return. By God! if I could use these darned shaky legs, I’d dance a hornpipe better than any of you.”
The next object of his attention was Mr. Jolter, who was honoured with particular marks of distinction, and the repeated promise of enjoying the living in his gift, as an acknowledgment of the care and discretion with which he had superintended the education and morals of our hero. The governor was so affected by the generosity of his patron, that the tears ran down his cheeks, while he expressed his gratitude, and the infinite satisfaction he felt in contemplating the accomplishments of his pupil.
The next person he focused on was Mr. Jolter, who was given special recognition and was repeatedly promised the living as a way to acknowledge the care and judgment he had shown in overseeing the education and moral upbringing of our hero. The governor was so touched by his patron's generosity that tears streamed down his face as he expressed his gratitude and the immense satisfaction he felt in looking at his pupil's achievements.
Meanwhile, Pipes did not neglect the orders he had received. The beer was produced, the gates were thrown open for the admission of all comers, the whole house was lighted up, and the patereroes were discharged in repeated volleys. Such phenomena could not fail to attract the notice of the neighbourhood. The club at Tunley's were astonished at the report of the guns, which produced various conjectures among the members of that sagacious society. The landlord observed, that, in all likelihood, the commodore was visited by hobgoblins, and ordered the guns to be fired in token of distress, as he had acted twenty years before, when he was annoyed by the same grievance. The exciseman, with a waggish sneer, expressed his apprehension of Trunnion's death, in consequence of which the patereroes might be discharged with an equivocal intent, either as signals of his lady's sorrow or rejoicing. The attorney signified a suspicion of Hatchway's being married to Miss Pickle, and that the firing and illuminations were in honour of the nuptials; upon which Gamaliel discovered some faint signs of emotion, and, taking the pipe from his mouth, gave it as his opinion, that his sister was brought to bed.
Meanwhile, Pipes didn’t ignore the orders he had received. The beer was made, the gates were opened to welcome everyone, the whole place was lit up, and the cannons were fired in loud bursts. Such events couldn’t help but catch the attention of the neighbors. The club at Tunley’s was amazed by the sound of the guns, which sparked various theories among the members of that clever group. The landlord mentioned that it was likely the commodore was visited by mischievous spirits, and he ordered the guns to be fired as a sign of distress, just like he had done twenty years earlier when faced with the same issue. The exciseman, with a playful grin, hinted at the possibility of Trunnion’s death, suggesting that the cannon fire might mean either his lady was grieving or celebrating. The attorney expressed a suspicion that Hatchway had married Miss Pickle and that the firing and lights were in honor of the wedding; at this, Gamaliel showed some subtle signs of emotion, and, taking the pipe from his mouth, suggested that his sister had just given birth.
While they were thus bewildered in the maze of their own imaginations, a company of countrymen, who sat drinking in the kitchen, and whose legs were more ready than their invention, sallied out to know the meaning of these exhibitions. Understanding that there was a butt of strong beer abroach in the yard, to which they were invited by the servants, they saved themselves the trouble and expense of returning to spend the evening at the public-house, and listed themselves under the banner of Tom Pipes, who presided as director of this festival.
While they were confused in their own thoughts, a group of local men, who were enjoying drinks in the kitchen and whose legs were quicker than their ideas, came out to find out what these displays were all about. Learning that there was a keg of strong beer available in the yard, which the servants had invited them to, they decided to forgo the trouble and cost of going back to the pub for the evening and joined Tom Pipes, who was leading this celebration.
The news of Peregrine's return being communicated to the parish, the parson, and three or four neighbouring gentlemen, who were well-wishers to our hero, immediately repaired to the garrison, in order to pay their compliments on this happy event, and were detained to supper. An elegant entertainment was prepared by the direction of Miss Julia, who was an excellent housewife; and the commodore was so invigorated with joy, that he seemed to have renewed his age. Among those who honoured the occasion with their presence, was Mr. Clover, the young gentleman that made his addresses to Peregrine's sister. His heart was so big with his passion, that, while the rest of the company were engrossed by their cups, he seized an opportunity of our hero's being detached from the conversation, and, in the impatience of his love, conjured him to consent to his happiness; protesting, that he would comply with any terms of settlement that a man of his fortune could embrace, in favour of a young lady who was absolute mistress of his affection.
The news of Peregrine's return was shared with the parish, and the parson along with a few neighboring gentlemen who were supportive of our hero quickly headed to the garrison to congratulate him on this joyful occasion and ended up staying for supper. An elegant dinner was arranged under the guidance of Miss Julia, who was an excellent host, and the commodore was so filled with happiness that he seemed rejuvenated. Among the guests was Mr. Clover, the young man who was pursuing Peregrine's sister. His heart was so full of love that, while the rest of the guests were absorbed in their drinks, he took the chance when Peregrine was momentarily out of the conversation to urge him to agree to his happiness; insisting that he would accept any terms that a man of his wealth could offer for the sake of a young lady who had completely captured his heart.
Our youth thanked him very politely for his favourable sentiments and honourable intention towards his sister, and told him, that at present he saw no reason to obstruct his desire; that he would consult Julia's own inclinations, and confer with him about the means of gratifying his wish; but, in the meantime, begged to be excused from discussing any point of such importance to them both. Reminding him of the jovial purpose on which they were happily met, he promoted such a quick circulation of the bottle, that their mirth grew noisy and obstreperous; they broke forth into repeated peals of laughter, without any previous incitement except that of claret. These explosions were succeeded by Bacchanalian songs, in which the old gentleman himself attempted to bear a share; the sedate governor snapped time with his fingers, and the parish priest assisted in the chorus with a most expressive nakedness of countenance. Before midnight they were almost all pinned to their chairs, as if they had been fixed by the power of enchantment; and, what rendered the confinement still more unfortunate, every servant in the house was in the same situation; so that they were fain to take their repose as they sat, and nodded at each other like a congregation of Anabaptists.
Our young friend thanked him very politely for his kind thoughts and good intentions towards his sister, and told him that he currently saw no reason to stand in the way of his wishes. He would check with Julia about her feelings and discuss with him how to make his desire a reality; however, for now, he would prefer to avoid talking about such an important issue for both of them. Reminding him of the joyful reason they had gathered, he made sure the wine was flowing quickly, causing their laughter to become loud and boisterous; they burst into fits of laughter, sparked only by the claret. This was followed by carefree songs, in which the older gentleman even tried to join in; the serious governor kept the beat with his fingers, and the parish priest joined the chorus with a very expressive face. Before midnight, they were nearly all glued to their seats, as if enchanted; to make matters worse, every servant in the house was in the same predicament, so they had no choice but to rest in their chairs, nodding at one another like a group of Anabaptists.
Next day Peregrine communed with his sister on the subject of her match with Mr. Clover, who, she told him, had offered to settle a jointure of four hundred pounds, and take her to wife without any expectation of a dowry. She moreover gave him to understand, that, in his absence, she had received several messages from her mother, commanding her to return to her father's house; but that she had refused to obey these orders, by the advice and injunction of her aunt and the commodore, which were indeed seconded by her own inclination; because she had all the reason in the world to believe, that her mother only wanted an opportunity of treating her with severity and rancour. The resentment of that lady had been carried to such indecent lengths, that, seeing her daughter at church one day, she rose up, before the parson entered, and reviled her with great bitterness, in the face of the whole congregation.
The next day, Peregrine talked to his sister about her match with Mr. Clover, who, she told him, had offered a settlement of four hundred pounds and wanted to marry her without expecting a dowry. She also hinted that while he was away, she had received several messages from their mother, demanding her to return to their father’s house; however, she had refused to follow these orders based on the advice from her aunt and the commodore, which was also what she wanted, because she had every reason to believe that her mother just wanted a chance to treat her harshly and with resentment. That lady's anger had gone so far that one Sunday, upon seeing her daughter at church, she stood up before the parson arrived and viciously criticized her in front of the entire congregation.
CHAPTER LXVII.
Sees his Sister happily married—Visits Emilia, who receives him according to his Deserts.
Sees his sister happily married—Visits Emilia, who welcomes him based on what he deserves.
Her brother being of opinion, that Mr. Clover's proposal was not to be neglected, especially as Julia's heart was engaged in his favour, communicated the affair to his uncle, who, with the approbation of Mrs. Trunnion, declared himself well satisfied with the young man's addresses, and desired that they might be buckled with all expedition, without the knowledge or concurrence of her parents, to whom (on account of their unnatural barbarity) she was not bound to pay the least regard. Though our adventurer entertained the same sentiments of the matter, and the lover, dreading some obstruction, earnestly begged the immediate condescension of his mistress, she could not be prevailed upon to take such a material step, without having first solicited the permission of her father; resolved, nevertheless, to comply with the dictates of her own heart, should his objections be frivolous or unjust.
Her brother believed that Mr. Clover's proposal shouldn't be ignored, especially since Julia was already in favor of him. He told their uncle about it, who, with Mrs. Trunnion's approval, said he was happy with the young man's intentions and wanted them to get married as soon as possible, without telling her parents, whom she felt no obligation to respect due to their cruel behavior. While our adventurer shared the same views, and the lover, fearing some obstacles, urgently asked for his girlfriend's quick agreement, she couldn't bring herself to make such an important decision without first asking her father's permission. However, she was determined to follow her heart if his objections were trivial or unfair.
Urged by this determination, her admirer waited upon Mr. Gamaliel at the public-house, and, with the appearance of great deference and respect, made him acquainted with his affection for his daughter, communicated the particulars of his fortune, with the terms of settlement he was ready to make; and in conclusion told him, that he would marry her without a portion. This last offer seemed to have some weight with the father, who received it with civility, and promised in a day or two to favour him with a final answer to his demand. He, accordingly, that same evening consulted his wife, who, being exasperated at the prospect of her daughter's independency, argued with the most virulent expostulation against the match, as an impudent scheme of her own planning, with a view of insulting her parents, towards whom she had already been guilty of the most vicious disobedience. In short, she used such remonstrances, as not only averted this weak husband's inclination from the proposal which he had relished before, but even instigated him to apply for a warrant to apprehend his daughter, on the supposition that she was about to bestow herself in marriage without his privity or consent.
Driven by this determination, her admirer visited Mr. Gamaliel at the pub and, showing great respect, shared his feelings for his daughter. He detailed his financial situation and the terms of the settlement he was willing to offer. In the end, he stated that he would marry her without a dowry. This last proposal seemed to resonate with the father, who received it politely and promised to give him a final answer in a day or two. That evening, he discussed the matter with his wife, who was furious at the thought of her daughter being independent. She argued vehemently against the match, suggesting it was a bold scheme concocted by their daughter to disrespect her parents, with whom she had already been notoriously disobedient. In summary, her objections not only swayed this weak husband away from the proposal he had previously liked, but also pushed him to seek a warrant to arrest his daughter, believing she was planning to marry without his knowledge or consent.
The justice of peace to whom this application was made, though he could not refuse the order, yet, being no stranger to the malevolence of the mother, which, together with Gamaliel's simplicity, was notorious in the county, he sent an intimation of what had happened to the garrison; upon which a couple of sentinels were placed on the gate, and at the pressing solicitation of the lover, as well as the desire of the commodore, her brother, and aunt, Julia was wedded without further delay, the ceremony being performed by Mr. Jolter, because the parish priest prudently declined any occasion of giving offence, and the curate was too much in the interest of their enemies to be employed in that office.
The justice of the peace who received this application, although he couldn't refuse the order, was well aware of the mother's malice, which, along with Gamaliel's naivety, was well-known in the county. He informed the garrison about what had happened, resulting in a couple of sentinels being stationed at the gate. At the urgent request of the lover, as well as the wishes of the commodore, her brother, and aunt, Julia was married without any further delay. The ceremony was conducted by Mr. Jolter, since the parish priest wisely chose to avoid any situation that might cause offense, and the curate was too aligned with their enemies to be involved in that role.
This domestic concern being settled to the satisfaction of our hero, he escorted her next day to the house of her husband, who immediately wrote a letter to her father, declaring his reasons for having thus superseded his authority; and Mrs. Pickle's mortification was unspeakable.
This domestic issue being resolved to our hero's satisfaction, he took her the next day to her husband's house, who quickly wrote a letter to her father explaining why he had taken over his authority; and Mrs. Pickle's embarrassment was beyond words.
That the new-married couple might be guarded against all insult, our young gentleman and his friend Hatchway, with their adherents, lodged in Mr. Clover's house for some weeks; during which they visited their acquaintance in the neighbourhood, according to custom. When the tranquility of their family was perfectly established, and the contract of the marriage executed in the presence of the old commodore and his lady, who gave her niece five hundred pounds to purchase jewels and clothes, Mr. Peregrine could no longer restrain his impatience to see his dear Emily; and told his uncle, that next day he proposed to ride across the country, in order to visit his friend Gauntlet, whom he had not heard of for a long time.
To protect the newlyweds from any disrespect, our young gentleman and his friend Hatchway, along with their companions, stayed at Mr. Clover's house for several weeks. During that time, they visited acquaintances in the area, as was their custom. Once the family’s peace was fully restored, and the marriage contract was signed in front of the old commodore and his wife—who gifted her niece five hundred pounds for buying jewelry and clothes—Mr. Peregrine could no longer contain his eagerness to see his beloved Emily. He informed his uncle that the following day, he planned to ride across the countryside to visit his friend Gauntlet, who he hadn’t heard from in a long while.
The old gentleman, looking steadfastly in his face, “Ah! D—n your cunning!” said he, “I find the anchor holds fast! I did suppose as how you would have slipt your cable, and changed your berth; but, I see, when a young fellow is once brought up by a pretty wench, he may man his capstans and viol block, if he wool; but he'll as soon heave up the Pike of Teneriffe, as bring his anchor aweigh! Odds heartlikins! had I known the young woman was Ned Gauntlet's daughter, I shouldn't have thrown out signal for leaving off chase.”
The old gentleman, looking directly at him, said, “Ah! Damn your cleverness! I see the anchor is secure! I thought you might have slipped your cable and changed your position; but I realize that when a young guy is raised by a pretty girl, he can handle his gear if he wants; but he’ll be just as likely to raise the Pike of Tenerife as to pull up his anchor! Good heavens! If I had known the young woman was Ned Gauntlet's daughter, I wouldn’t have signaled to stop the chase.”
Our adventurer was not a little surprised to hear the commodore talk in this style; and immediately conjectured that his friend Godfrey had informed him of the whole affair. Instead of listening to this approbation of his flame, with those transports of joy which he would have felt, had he retained his former sentiments, he was chagrined at Trunnion's declaration, and offended at the presumption of the young soldier, in presuming to disclose the secret with which he had entrusted him. Reddening with these reflections, he assured the commodore that he never had serious thoughts of matrimony; so that if any person had told him he was under any engagement of that kind, he had abused his ear; for he protested that he would never contract such attachments without his knowledge and express permission.
Our adventurer was quite surprised to hear the commodore speak this way and quickly assumed that his friend Godfrey had filled him in on everything. Instead of feeling the joy he would have experienced if he still held his previous feelings, he was annoyed by Trunnion's statement and offended by the young soldier's assumption that he could share a secret he had entrusted to him. Flushing with these thoughts, he assured the commodore that he never seriously considered marriage; so if anyone had suggested he was involved in something like that, they had misled him. He insisted that he would never enter into such commitments without his knowledge and explicit permission.
Trunnion commended him for his prudent resolution, and observed, that, though no person mentioned to him what promises had passed betwixt him and his sweetheart, it was very plain that he had made love to her, and therefore it was to be supposed that his intentions were honourable; for he could not believe he was such a rogue in his heart, as to endeavour to debauch the daughter of a brave officer, who had served his country with credit and reputation. Notwithstanding this remonstrance, which Pickle imputed to the commodore's ignorance of the world, he set out for the habitation of Mrs. Gauntlet, with the unjustifiable sentiments of a man of pleasure, who sacrifices every consideration to the desire of his ruling appetite; and, as Winchester lay in his way, resolved to visit some of his friends who lived in that place. It was in the house of one of these that he was informed of Emilia's being then in town with her mother; upon which he excused himself from staying to drink tea, and immediately repaired to their lodgings, according to the directions he had received.
Trunnion praised him for his wise decision and noted that, even though no one had told him what promises had been made between him and his girlfriend, it was clear that he had romantic feelings for her. Therefore, it was reasonable to assume that he had good intentions; he couldn’t believe he was so deceitful as to try to seduce the daughter of a respected officer who had served his country honorably. Despite this warning, which Pickle thought came from the commodore’s naivety about the world, he set off for Mrs. Gauntlet's place with the questionable mindset of a man who prioritizes his desires above all else. Since Winchester was on his route, he decided to stop by and visit some friends there. It was at one of their houses that he learned Emilia was in town with her mother. He then declined to stay for tea and headed straight to their lodging, following the directions he had gotten.
When he arrived at the door, instead of undergoing that perturbation of spirits, which a lover in his interesting situation might be supposed to feel, he suffered no emotion but that of vanity and pride, favoured with an opportunity of self-gratification, and entered his Emilia's apartment with the air of a conceited petit-maitre, rather than that of the respectful admirer, when he visits the object of his passion, after an absence of seventeen months.
When he reached the door, instead of feeling the nervous excitement that a lover in his situation might be expected to experience, he felt nothing but vanity and pride, pleased to have a chance for self-indulgence. He entered Emilia's room with the demeanor of an arrogant dandy, rather than that of a respectful admirer visiting the object of his affection after being away for seventeen months.
The young lady, having been very much disobliged at his mortifying neglect of her brother's letter, had summoned all her own pride and resolution to her aid; and, by means of a happy disposition, so far overcame her chagrin at his indifference, that she was able to behave in his presence with apparent tranquility and ease. She was even pleased to find he had, by accident, chosen a time for his visit when she was surrounded by two or three young gentlemen, who professed themselves her admirers. Our gallant was no sooner announced, than she collected all her coquetry, put on the gayest air she could assume, and contrived to giggle just as he appeared at the room door. The compliments of salutation being performed, she welcomed him to England in a careless manner, asked the news of Paris, and, before he could make any reply, desired one of the other gentlemen to proceed with the sequel of that comical adventure, in the relation of which he had been interrupted.
The young woman, feeling quite annoyed by his embarrassing neglect of her brother's letter, had gathered all her pride and determination to support her. Thanks to her cheerful nature, she managed to overcome her disappointment at his indifference enough to act with apparent calmness and ease in his presence. She was even pleased to discover that he had, by chance, chosen a time for his visit when she was surrounded by two or three young men who openly admired her. As soon as he was announced, she gathered all her charm, put on the brightest demeanor she could, and managed to giggle just as he walked through the door. After they exchanged greetings, she casually welcomed him to England, asked about the news from Paris, and before he could respond, she asked one of the other young men to continue the story from that funny adventure he had started before being interrupted.
Peregrine smiled within himself at this behaviour, which, without all doubt, he believed she had affected to punish him for his unkind silence while he was abroad, being fully persuaded that her heart was absolutely at his devotion. On this supposition, he practised his Parisian improvements on the art of conversation, and uttered a thousand prettinesses in the way of compliment, with such incredible rotation of tongue, that his rivals were struck dumb with astonishment, and Emilia fretted out of all temper, at seeing herself deprived of the prerogative of the sex. He persisted, however, in this surprising loquacity, until the rest of the company thought proper to withdraw, and then contracted his discourse into the focus of love, which now put on a very different appearance from that which it had formerly worn. Instead of awful veneration, which her presence used to inspire, that chastity of sentiment, and delicacy of expression, he now gazed upon her with the eyes of a libertine, he glowed with the impatience of desire, talked in a strain that barely kept within the bounds of decency, and attempted to snatch such favours, as she, in the tenderness of mutual acknowledgments, had once vouchsafed to bestow.
Peregrine smiled to himself at her behavior, which he was sure she was putting on to punish him for his unkind silence while he was away, fully convinced that her heart was entirely devoted to him. Based on this belief, he practiced his Parisian skills in conversation, charming her with countless compliments and such a fast flow of words that his rivals were left speechless in amazement, while Emilia grew increasingly frustrated at being denied the advantages of her gender. He continued this surprising talkativeness until the rest of the group decided to leave, then shifted his conversation to a more romantic focus, which now looked very different from how it used to be. Instead of the reverent admiration her presence would typically inspire, along with that purity of feeling and elegance of expression, he now looked at her with the eyes of a libertine, burning with the impatience of desire, speaking in a tone that barely stayed within the limits of decency, and trying to claim the favors she had once generously granted in the warmth of their mutual affection.
Grieved and offended as she was, at this palpable alteration in his carriage, she disdained to remind him of his former deportment, and, with dissembled good-humour, rallied him on the progress he had made in gallantry and address. But, far from submitting to the liberties he would have taken, she kept her person sacred from his touch, and would not even suffer him to ravish a kiss of her fair hand; so that he reaped no other advantage from the exercise of his talents, during this interview, which lasted a whole hour, than that of knowing he had overrated his own importance, and that Emily's heart was not a garrison likely to surrender at discretion.
Grieved and offended as she was by this obvious change in his behavior, she chose not to remind him of how he used to act. Instead, with feigned good humor, she teased him about how far he had come in charm and confidence. However, rather than accept the liberties he tried to take, she kept her body safe from his touch and wouldn’t even allow him to steal a kiss from her fair hand. As a result, he gained no other advantage from his efforts during their hour-long meeting than the realization that he had overestimated his own importance and that Emily's heart was not an easy prize to win.
At length his addresses were interrupted by the arrival of the mother, who had gone abroad to visit by herself; and the conversation becoming more general, he understood that Godfrey was at London, soliciting for a lieutenancy that had fallen vacant in the regiment to which he belonged; and that Miss Sophy was at home with her father.
At last, his talks were interrupted by the arrival of the mother, who had gone away to visit alone; and as the conversation became more general, he learned that Godfrey was in London, seeking a lieutenant position that had opened up in his regiment; and that Miss Sophy was at home with her dad.
Though our adventurer had not met with all the success he expected by his first visit, he did not despair of reducing the fortress, believing that in time there would be a mutiny in his favour, and accordingly carried on the siege for several days, without profiting by his perseverance; till, at length, having attended the ladies to their own house in the country, he began to look upon this adventure as time misspent, and resolved to discontinue his attack, in hopes of meeting with a more favourable occasion; being, in the meantime, ambitious of displaying in a higher sphere, those qualifications which his vanity told him were at present misapplied.
Though our adventurer hadn’t achieved all the success he hoped for during his first visit, he didn’t give up on taking the fortress. He believed that eventually there would be a mutiny in his favor, so he continued the siege for several days, but his persistence didn’t pay off. Finally, after he had taken the ladies back to their house in the countryside, he started to see this endeavor as a waste of time and decided to call off his attack, hoping to find a better opportunity. In the meantime, he was eager to showcase the skills that his vanity told him were currently being wasted.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
He attends his Uncle with great Affection during a Fit of Illness—Sets out again for London—Meets with his Friend Godfrey, who is prevailed upon to accompany him to Bath; on the Road to which Place they chance to Dine with a Person who entertains them with a curious Account of a certain Company of Adventurers.
He looks after his uncle with lots of love during an illness—sets out again for London—runs into his friend Godfrey, who agrees to join him on the trip to Bath; on the way to Bath, they happen to have dinner with someone who entertains them with an interesting story about a group of adventurers.
Thus determined, he took leave of Emilia and her mother, on pretence of going to London upon some urgent business, and returned to the garrison, leaving the good old lady very much concerned, and the daughter incensed at his behaviour, which was the more unexpected, because Godfrey had told them that the commodore approved of his nephew's passion.
Thus resolved, he said goodbye to Emilia and her mother, pretending to head to London for some urgent business, and went back to the garrison. This left the kind old lady quite worried, and Emilia annoyed with his behavior, which was even more surprising because Godfrey had told them that the commodore supported his nephew's feelings.
Our adventurer found his uncle so ill of the gout, which, for the first time, had taken possession of his stomach, that his life was in imminent danger, and the whole family in disorder. He therefore took the reins of government in his own hands, sent for all the physicians in the neighbourhood, and attended him in person with the most affectionate care, during the whole fit, which lasted a fortnight, and then retired before the strength of his constitution.
Our adventurer discovered that his uncle was seriously ill with gout, which had, for the first time, affected his stomach, putting his life in serious jeopardy and throwing the entire family into chaos. He decided to take charge, called for all the doctors in the area, and personally cared for him with the utmost affection throughout the two-week ordeal, until his uncle's strength began to recover.
When the old gentleman recovered his health, he was so penetrated with Peregrine's behaviour, that he actually would have made over to him his whole fortune, and depended upon him for his own subsistence, had not our youth opposed the execution of the deed with all his influence and might, and even persuaded him to make a will, in which his friend Hatchway, and all his other adherents, were liberally remembered, and his aunt provided for on her own terms. This material point being settled, he, with his uncle's permission, departed for London, after having seen the family affairs established under the direction and administration of Mr. Jolter and the lieutenant; for, by this time, Mrs. Trunnion was wholly occupied with her spiritual concern.
When the old gentleman regained his health, he was so moved by Peregrine's behavior that he would have turned over his entire fortune to him and relied on him for his living, if our young man hadn't used all his influence to stop the deed from going through. He even convinced the old man to make a will, which generously included his friend Hatchway and all his other supporters, and ensured his aunt would be cared for on her own terms. With this crucial matter settled, and with his uncle's permission, he left for London after making sure the family's affairs were in the capable hands of Mr. Jolter and the lieutenant; by this time, Mrs. Trunnion was completely focused on her spiritual matters.
On his first arrival at London, he sent a card to the lodgings of Gauntlet, in consequence of a direction from his mother; and that young gentleman waited on him next morning, though not with that alacrity of countenance and warmth of friendship which might have been expected from the intimacy of their former connection. Nor was Peregrine himself actuated by the same unreserved affection for the soldier which he had formerly entertained. Godfrey, over and above the offence he had taken at Pickle's omission in point of corresponding with him, had been informed, by a letter from his mother, of the youth's cavalier behaviour to Emilia, during his last residence at Winchester; and our young gentleman, as we have already observed, was disgusted at the supposed discovery which the soldier had made in his absence to the commodore. They, perceived their mutual umbrage at meeting, and received each other with that civility of reserve which commonly happens between two persons whose friendship is in the wane.
On his first arrival in London, he sent a card to Gauntlet's place, as his mother instructed him to. The next morning, that young man came to see him, although not with the eagerness and warmth of friendship one might expect from their previous closeness. Nor was Peregrine himself feeling the same open affection for the soldier that he once had. Godfrey, on top of being upset about Pickle's failure to keep in touch, had also received a letter from his mother informing him about the young man's dismissive behavior towards Emilia during his last stay in Winchester. As we've noted before, our young gentleman was irritated by the soldier’s supposed revelation to the commodore while he was away. They both sensed their mutual displeasure upon meeting and greeted each other with a polite but distant civility that often occurs between friends whose relationship is fading.
Gauntlet at once divined the cause of the other's displeasure, and, in order to vindicate his own character, after the first compliments were passed, took the opportunity, on inquiring after the health of the commodore, to tell Peregrine, that, while he tarried at the garrison, on his return from Dover, the subject of the conversation, one night, happening to turn on our hero's passion, the old gentleman had expressed his concern about that affair; and, among other observations, said, he supposed the object of his love was some paltry hussy, whom he had picked up when he was a boy at school. Upon which, Mr. Hatchway assured him, that she was a young woman of as good a family as any in the county; and, after having prepossessed him in her favour, ventured, out of the zeal of his friendship, to tell who she was. Wherefore, the discovery was not to be imputed to any other cause; and he hoped Mr. Pickle would acquit him of all share in the transaction.
Gauntlet quickly figured out why the other was upset, and to clear his own name, after exchanging the usual pleasantries, he took the chance to ask Peregrine about the commodore's health. He mentioned that while he was at the garrison, coming back from Dover, the conversation one night shifted to our hero's romance. The old man had shown concern about it, and among other comments, he suggested that the person Peregrine loved was just some lowly girl he had picked up when he was a schoolboy. In response, Mr. Hatchway assured him that she was a young woman from a family as respectable as any in the county. Having won the old man's favor for her, he felt compelled, out of friendship, to reveal who she was. Therefore, the revelation shouldn't be blamed on any other motive, and he hoped Mr. Pickle would believe he had no part in the matter.
Peregrine was very well pleased to be thus undeceived; his countenance immediately cleared up, the formality of his behaviour relaxed into his usual familiarity; he asked pardon for his unmannerly neglect of Godfrey's letter, which he protested, was not owing to any disregard, or abatement of friendship, but to a hurry of youthful engagements, in consequence of which he had procrastinated his answer from time to time, until he was ready to return in person.
Peregrine was really happy to have his misunderstanding cleared up; his face instantly brightened, and he relaxed his formal behavior into his usual friendliness. He apologized for his rude neglect of Godfrey's letter, insisting that it wasn't because he didn't value their friendship, but because he’d been caught up in a whirlwind of youthful activities, which had led him to keep delaying his response until he was ready to come back in person.
The young soldier was contented with this apology and, as Pickle's intention, with respect to his sister, was still dubious and undeclared, he did not think it was incumbent upon him, as yet, to express any resentment on that score; but was wise enough to foresee, that the renewal of his intimacy with our young gentleman might be the means of reviving that flame which had been dissipated by a variety of new ideas. With those sentiments, he laid aside all reserve, and their communication resumed its former channel. Peregrine made him acquainted with all the adventures in which he had been engaged since their parting; and he, with the same confidence, related the remarkable incidents of his own fate; among other things, giving him to understand, that, upon obtaining a commission in the army, the father of his dear Sophy, without once inquiring about the occasion of his promotion, had not only favoured him with his countenance in a much greater degree than heretofore, but also contributed his interest, and even promised the assistance of his purse, in procuring for him a lieutenancy, which he was then soliciting with all his power; whereas, if he had not been enabled, by a most accidental piece of good fortune, to lift himself into the sphere of an officer, he had all the reason in the world to believe that this gentleman, and all the rest of his wealthy relations, would have suffered him to languish in obscurity and distress; and by turning his misfortune into reproach, made it a plea for their want of generosity and friendship.
The young soldier was satisfied with the apology, and since Pickle's intentions regarding his sister were still unclear and unspoken, he didn’t feel it was necessary to show any resentment about it just yet. However, he was smart enough to anticipate that rekindling his friendship with the young gentleman could stir up feelings that had faded in light of new experiences. With that in mind, he let go of any reservations, and their conversation flowed back into familiar territory. Peregrine updated him on all the adventures he’d had since they last met, and he, in turn, shared the notable events of his own life. Among other things, he made it clear that after receiving a commission in the army, the father of his beloved Sophy had, without even asking why he was promoted, shown him much more support than before, using his influence and even promising financial help in securing a lieutenancy he was currently pursuing. Otherwise, if luck hadn’t helped him rise to the officer level, he had every reason to believe that this man and all his wealthy relatives would have let him fade into obscurity and hardship, using his misfortune as an excuse for their lack of generosity and friendship.
Peregrine, understanding the situation of his friend's affairs, would have accommodated him upon the instant with a sum to accelerate the passage of his commission through the offices; but, being too well acquainted with his scrupulous disposition, to manifest his benevolence in that manner, he found means to introduce himself to one of the gentlemen of the War Office, who was so well satisfied with the arguments used in behalf of his friend, that Godfrey's business was transacted in a very few days, though he himself knew nothing of his interest being thus reinforced.
Peregrine, aware of his friend's situation, would have immediately given him some money to speed up the processing of his request, but knowing his friend's careful nature, he chose not to show his kindness in that way. Instead, he managed to meet with one of the gentlemen at the War Office, who was convinced by the reasons he presented for his friend. As a result, Godfrey’s matter was resolved in just a few days, even though he had no idea that Peregrine was helping him behind the scenes.
By this time, the season at Bath was begun; and our hero, panting with the desire of distinguishing himself at that resort of the fashionable world, communicated his design of going thither to his friend Godfrey, whom he importuned to accompany him in the excursion; and leave of absence from his regiment being obtained by the influence of Peregrine's new quality friends, the two companions departed from London in a post-chaise, attended, as usual, by the valet-de-chambre and Pipes, who were become almost as necessary to our adventurer as any two of his own organs.
By this time, the season in Bath had started; and our hero, eager to stand out at this fashionable destination, shared his plans to go there with his friend Godfrey, urging him to join in the trip. With permission to leave his regiment secured through Peregrine's influential new friends, the two companions set off from London in a hired carriage, accompanied, as usual, by the valet and Pipes, who had become nearly as essential to our adventurer as any of his own body parts.
At the inn, when they alighted for dinner, Godfrey perceived a person walking by himself in the yard, with a very pensive air, and, upon observing him more narrowly, recognised him to be a professed gamester, whom he had formerly known at Tunbridge. On the strength of this acquaintance, he accosted the peripatetic, who knew him immediately; and, in the fulness of his grief and vexation, told him, that he was now on his return from Bath, where he had been stripped by a company of sharpers, who resented that he should presume to trade upon his own bottom.
At the inn, when they got off for dinner, Godfrey spotted someone walking alone in the yard, looking really thoughtful. As he looked closer, he recognized him as a regular gambler he had known back in Tunbridge. Relying on this past connection, he approached the man, who recognized him right away. In his deep sadness and frustration, the man explained that he was returning from Bath, where a group of con artists had robbed him because they were angry that he dared to bet on his own luck.
Peregrine, who was extremely curious in his inquiries, imagining that he might learn some entertaining and useful anecdotes from this artist, invited him to dinner, and was accordingly fully informed of all the political systems at Bath. He understood that there was at London one great company of adventurers, who employed agents in all the different branches of imposition throughout the whole kingdom of England, allowing these ministers a certain proportion of the profits accruing from their industry and skill, and reserving the greatest share for the benefit of the common stock, which was chargeable with the expense of fitting out individuals in their various pursuits, as well as with the loss sustained in the course of their adventures. Some whose persons and qualifications are by the company judged adequate to the task, exert their talents in making love to ladies of fortune, being accommodated with money and accoutrements for that purpose, after having given their bonds payable to one or other of the directors, on the day of marriage, for certain sums, proportioned to the dowries they are to receive. Others versed in the doctrine of chances, and certain secret expediences, frequent all those places where games of hazard are allowed: and such as are masters in the arts of billiards, tennis, and bowls, are continually lying in wait, in all the scenes of these diversions, for the ignorant and unwary. A fourth class attend horse-races, being skilled in those mysterious practices by which the knowing ones are taken in. Nor is this community unfurnished with those who lay wanton wives and old rich widows under contribution, and extort money, by prostituting themselves to the embraces of their own sex, and then threatening their admirers with prosecution. But their most important returns are made by that body of their undertakers who exercise their understandings in the innumerable stratagems of the card table, at which no sharper can be too infamous to be received, and even caressed by persons of the highest rank and distinction. Among other articles of intelligence, our young gentleman learned, that those agents, by whom their guest was broke, and expelled from Bath, had constituted a bank against all sporters, and monopolized the advantage in all sorts of play. He then told Gauntlet, that, if he would put himself under his direction, he would return with them, and lay such a scheme as would infallibly ruin the whole society at billiards, as he knew that Godfrey excelled them all in his knowledge of that game.
Peregrine, who was very curious in his inquiries, thinking he might hear some entertaining and useful stories from this artist, invited him to dinner and was fully informed about all the political systems at Bath. He learned that in London, there was a large group of adventurers who hired agents in various areas of deception throughout all of England, giving these agents a portion of the profits from their work, while keeping the largest share for the benefit of the common fund, which covered the costs of supporting individuals in their various endeavors as well as the losses faced during their adventures. Some, whose appearances and skills the company deemed suitable for the job, used their talents to woo wealthy women, being provided with money and gear for that purpose after signing agreements to pay one of the directors a set amount on the day of marriage, based on the dowries they were to receive. Others, knowledgeable in probability and certain secret methods, frequented places where gambling was allowed; and those skilled in billiards, tennis, and bowling were always on the lookout in those recreational spaces for the unsuspecting and naive. A fourth group attended horse races, skilled in the shady practices that could dupe the unwise. This group also included those who took advantage of seductive wives and wealthy older widows, extorting money by engaging in relationships with their own gender, then threatening their admirers with legal action. However, their most significant earnings came from the members of their society who specialized in the countless tricks at card tables, where no con artist is too notorious to be welcomed and even praised by the highest-ranking individuals. Among other pieces of information, our young gentleman found out that the agents who had broken and expelled their guest from Bath had set up a bank against all gamblers, monopolizing the edge in all forms of play. He then told Gauntlet that if he would follow his lead, he would return with them and devise a plan that would surely ruin the entire billiards society, as he knew that Godfrey was better than all of them at that game.
The soldier excused himself from engaging in any party of that kind, and after dinner the travellers parted; but, as the conversation between the two friends turned upon the information they had received, Peregrine projected a plan for punishing those villainous pests of society, who prey upon their fellow-creatures; and it was put in execution by Gauntlet in the following manner.
The soldier declined to take part in any such gathering, and after dinner, the travelers went their separate ways; however, as the conversation between the two friends shifted to the information they had received, Peregrine came up with a plan to deal with those despicable troublemakers in society who exploit others, and Gauntlet carried it out as follows.
CHAPTER LXIX.
Godfrey executes a Scheme at Bath, by which a whole Company of Sharpers is ruined.
Godfrey carries out a plan in Bath that leads to the downfall of an entire group of con artists.
On the evening after their arrival at Bath, Godfrey, who had kept himself up all day for that purpose, went in boots to the billiard table; and, two gentlemen being at play, began to bet with so little appearance of judgment, that one of the adventurers then present was inflamed with a desire of profiting by his inexperience; and, when the table was vacant, invited him to take a game for amusement. The soldier, assuming the air of a self-conceited dupe, answered, that he did not choose to throw away his time for nothing, but, if he pleased, would piddle for a crown a game. This declaration was very agreeable to the other, who wanted to be further confirmed in the opinion he had conceived of the stranger, before he would play for anything of consequence. The party being accepted, Gauntlet put off his coat, and, beginning with seeming eagerness, won the first game, because his antagonist kept up his play with a view of encouraging him to wager a greater sum. The soldier purposely bit at the hook, the stakes were doubled, and he was again victorious, by the permission of his competitor. He now began to yawn; and observing, that it was not worth his while to proceed in such a childish manner; the other swore, in an affected passion, that he would play him for twenty guineas. The proposal being embraced, through the connivance of Godfrey, the money was won by the sharper, who exerted his dexterity to the utmost, fearing that otherwise his adversary would decline continuing the game.
On the evening after they arrived in Bath, Godfrey, who had stayed up all day for this purpose, walked over in his boots to the billiard table. Two gentlemen were playing, and he started to bet with such a lack of judgment that one of the players saw an opportunity to take advantage of his inexperience. When the table was free, he invited Godfrey to play a game just for fun. Godfrey, acting like a clueless fool, replied that he didn’t want to waste his time for nothing, but if the other guy wanted, he’d play for a crown a game. This suited the other player perfectly; he wanted to confirm his impression of Godfrey before wagering anything significant. Once the offer was accepted, Godfrey took off his coat, and starting with a fake eagerness, he won the first game because his opponent was playing with the intent of encouraging him to bet more. Godfrey intentionally took the bait, the stakes were raised, and he won again, thanks to his competitor allowing it. He then started yawning and noticed that continuing to play in such a silly way wasn’t worth his time. The other player feigned anger and swore he’d play for twenty guineas. The proposal being accepted, with Godfrey’s connivance, the money was ultimately won by the sharper, who gave it his all, worrying that otherwise Godfrey would stop the game.
Godfrey thus conquered, pretended to lose his temper, cursed his own ill-luck, swore that the table had a cast, and that the balls did not run true, changed his mast, and with great warmth, challenged his enemy to double the sum. The gamester, who feigned reluctance, complied with his desire; and having got the two first hazards, offered to lay one hundred guineas to fifty on the game. The odds were taken; and Godfrey having allowed himself to be overcome, began to rage with great violence, broke the mast to pieces, threw the balls out of the window, and, in the fury of his indignation, defied his antagonist to meet him tomorrow, when he should be refreshed from the fatigue of travelling. This was a very welcome invitation to the gamester, who, imagining that the soldier would turn out a most beneficial prize, assured him, that he would not fail to be there next forenoon, in order to give him his revenge.
Godfrey, having been defeated, pretended to lose his cool, cursed his bad luck, claimed that the table was crooked and the balls weren't playing right. He switched his strategy and, with great enthusiasm, challenged his opponent to double the stakes. The gambler, who acted hesitant, went along with it; having won the first two bets, he offered to wager one hundred guineas against fifty on the match. The bet was accepted, and Godfrey allowed himself to be beaten. He then exploded with anger, smashed the betting board to pieces, threw the balls out the window, and, in a fit of rage, dared his rival to meet him the next day when he would be rested from his journey. This was a very appealing challenge to the gambler, who thought that beating the soldier would be a lucrative opportunity. He assured Godfrey that he would definitely show up the following morning to give him his chance for revenge.
Gauntlet went home to his lodgings, fully certified of his own superiority, and took his measures with Peregrine, touching the prosecution of their scheme; while his opponent made a report of his success to the brethren of the gang, who resolved to be present at the decision of the match, with a view of taking advantage of the stranger's passionate disposition.
Gauntlet went home to his place, completely confident in his own superiority, and discussed their plan with Peregrine. Meanwhile, his opponent reported his success to the gang members, who decided to show up for the match's outcome, looking to exploit the stranger's emotional nature.
Affairs being thus concerted on both sides, the players met, according to appointment, and the room was immediately filled with spectators, who either came thither by accident, curiosity, or design. The match was fixed for one hundred pounds a game, the principals chose their instruments, and laid aside their coats, and one of the knights of the order proffered to lay another hundred on the head of his associate. Godfrey took him upon the instant. A second worthy of the same class, seeing him so eager, challenged him to treble the sum; and his proposal met with the same reception, to the astonishment of the company, whose expectation was raised to a very interesting pitch. The game was begun, and the soldier having lost the first hazard, the odds were offered by the confederacy with great vociferation; but nobody would run such a risk in favour of a person who was utterly unknown. The sharper having gained the second also, the noise increased to a surprising clamour, not only of the gang, but likewise of almost all the spectators, who desired to lay two to one against the brother of Emilia.
With everything arranged on both sides, the players met as planned, and the room quickly filled with spectators, who arrived out of chance, curiosity, or purpose. The match was set for one hundred pounds a game, the players selected their tools, took off their coats, and one of the knights of the order offered to put down another hundred on behalf of his partner. Godfrey accepted immediately. Another member of the same group, seeing his eagerness, challenged him to triple the bet; he received the same acceptance, to the surprise of the crowd, which was now very eager for the outcome. The game began, and after the soldier lost the first round, the odds were enthusiastically proposed by the group, but no one was willing to take a chance on someone completely unknown. After the hustler won the second round as well, the noise grew into an incredible uproar, coming not just from the group, but also from nearly all the spectators, who wanted to bet two to one against Emilia's brother.
Peregrine, who was present, perceiving the cupidity of the association sufficiently inflamed, all of a sudden opened his mouth, and answered their bets, to the amount of twelve hundred pounds; which were immediately deposited, on both sides, in money and notes; so that this was, perhaps, the most important game that ever was played at billiards. Gauntlet seeing the agreement settled, struck his antagonist's ball into the pocket in a twinkling, though it was in one of those situations which are supposed to be against the striker. The betters were a little discomposed at this event, for which, however, they consoled themselves by imputing the success to accident; but when, at the very next stroke, he sprung it over the table, their countenances underwent an instantaneous distraction of feature, and they waited, in the most dreadful suspense, for the next hazard, which being likewise taken with infinite ease by the soldier, the blood forsook their cheeks, and the interjection “Zounds!” pronounced with a look of consternation, and in a tone of despair, proceeded from every mouth at the same instant of time. They were overwhelmed with horror and astonishment at seeing three hazards taken in as many strokes, from a person of their friend's dexterity; and shrewdly suspected, that the whole was a scheme preconcerted for their destruction. On this supposition, they changed the note, and attempted to hedge for their own indemnification, by proposing to lay the odds in favour of Gauntlet; but so much was the opinion of the company altered by that young gentleman's success, that no one would venture to espouse the cause of his competitor, who, chancing to improve his game by the addition of another lucky hit, diminished the concern, and revived the hopes of his adherents.
Peregrine, who was there, noticing the greed of the group was really stirred up, suddenly spoke up and matched their bets, totaling twelve hundred pounds; which were quickly put down on both sides in cash and notes. This was probably the most significant billiards game ever played. Gauntlet, seeing that the agreement was settled, swiftly sank his opponent's ball into the pocket, even though it was in one of those tricky spots that are thought to be against the player. The bettors were a bit shaken by this turn of events, but they rationalized it as pure luck; however, when he then made the next shot and cleared the table, their faces went blank with shock and they waited in dreadful suspense for the next attempt. When the soldier, with effortless skill, also made that shot, their faces went pale and the exclamation “Zounds!” escaped everyone’s lips, filled with horror and despair, all at once. They were overwhelmed with fear and disbelief at seeing three successful shots made in three tries by someone of their friend's talent, and they suspected it was all a planned scheme against them. With this thought in mind, they changed their bets and tried to cover themselves by proposing to bet in favor of Gauntlet; but the opinion of the group had shifted so much because of the young man’s success that no one dared support his opponent, who, by chance, improved his game with another lucky shot, easing their concerns and rekindling the hopes of his supporters.
But this gleam of fortune did not long continue. Godfrey collected his whole art and capacity, and, augmenting his score to number ten, indulged himself with a view of the whole fraternity. The visages of these professors had adopted different shades of complexion at every hazard he had taken: from their natural colour they had shifted into a sallow hue; from thence into pale; from pale into yellow, which degenerated into a mahogany tint; and now they saw seventeen hundred pounds of their stock depending upon a single stroke, they stood like so many swarthy Moors, jaundiced with terror and vexation. The fire which naturally glowed in the cheeks and nose of the player, seemed utterly extinct, and his carbuncles exhibited a livid appearance, as if a gangrene had already made some progress in his face; his hand began to shake, and his whole frame was seized with such trepidation, that he was fain to swallow a bumper of brandy, in order to re-establish the tranquility of his nerves. This expedient, however, did not produce the desired effect; for he aimed the ball at the lead with such discomposure, that it struck on the wrong side, and came off at an angle which directed it full in the middle hole. This fatal accident was attended with a universal groan, as if the whole universe had gone to wreck; and notwithstanding that tranquility for which adventurers are so remarkable, this loss made such an impression upon them all, that each in particular manifested his chagrin, by the most violent emotions. One turned up his eyes to heaven, and bit his nether lip; another gnawed his fingers, while he stalked across the room; a third blasphemed with horrid imprecations; and he who played the party sneaked off, grinding his teeth together, with a look that baffles all description, and as he crossed the threshold, exclaiming, “A d—d bite, by G—!”
But this moment of luck didn’t last long. Godfrey gathered all his skill and confidence, and by raising his score to ten, treated himself to a view of the whole group. The faces of these players had turned different shades with every risk he took: from their natural color to a sickly hue; then to pale; from pale to yellow, which eventually turned into a brownish tint; and now, with seventeen hundred pounds of their money hanging on a single shot, they looked like a bunch of anxious people, drained of color by fear and frustration. The natural flush in the player’s cheeks and nose seemed completely gone, and his skin had taken on a sickly appearance, as if a serious illness was already setting in; his hand started to shake, and he was overwhelmed with such nervousness that he felt the need to down a strong drink of brandy to calm his nerves. However, that didn’t work as he hoped; he aimed the ball at the lead with such unrest that it hit the wrong side and ended up right in the middle hole. This disastrous mistake was met with a collective groan, as if the entire world had come crashing down; and despite the calm usually seen in gamblers, this loss left a deep impact on everyone present, each expressing their frustration through extreme reactions. One person looked up to the sky, biting his lip; another paced the room while gnawing on his fingers; a third cursed with terrible oaths; and the player who caused the mishap slunk away, grinding his teeth together with an indescribable expression, and as he stepped out, he exclaimed, “A damn blow, by God!”
The victors, after having insulted them, by asking, if they were disposed for another chance, carried off their winning, with the appearance of great composure, though in their hearts they were transported with unspeakable joy; not so much on account of the booty they had gained, as in consideration of having so effectually destroyed such a nest of pernicious miscreants.
The winners, after mocking them by asking if they were ready for another shot, took away their prize with a calm facade, even though inside, they were overwhelmed with indescribable happiness; not just because of the loot they had acquired, but also because they had successfully taken down such a den of harmful wrongdoers.
Peregrine, believing that now he had found an opportunity of serving his friend, without giving offence to the delicacy of his honour, told him, upon their arrival at their lodgings, that fortune had at length enabled him to become in a manner independent, or at least make himself easy in his circumstances, by purchasing a company with the money he had won. So saying, he put his share of the success in Gauntlet's hand, as a sum that of right belonged to him, and promised to write in his behalf to a nobleman, who had interest enough to promote such a quick rise in the service.
Peregrine, thinking he had finally found a way to help his friend without upsetting his sense of honor, told him, once they arrived at their lodgings, that luck had finally allowed him to become somewhat independent, or at least improve his situation, by buying a company with the money he had won. As he said this, he handed Gauntlet his share of the winnings, claiming it was rightfully his, and promised to write to a nobleman who had enough influence to support such a rapid advancement in their careers.
Godfrey thanked him for his obliging intention, but absolutely refused, with great loftiness of demeanour, to appropriate to his own use any part of the money which Pickle had gained, and seemed affronted at the other's entertaining a sentiment so unworthy of his character. He would not even accept, in the way of loan, such an addition to his own stock, as would amount to the price of a company of foot; but expressed great confidence in the future exertion of that talent which had been blessed with such a prosperous beginning. Our hero finding him thus obstinately deaf to the voice of his own interest, resolved to govern himself in his next endeavours of friendship, by his experience of this ticklish punctilio; and, in the meantime, gave a handsome benefaction to the hospital, out of these first fruits of the success in play, and reserved two hundred pounds for a set of diamond ear-rings and solitaire, which he intended for a present to Miss Emily.
Godfrey thanked him for the kind offer but firmly refused, with an air of superiority, to take any part of the money that Pickle had earned, and seemed offended that the other would even think such an unworthy thought. He wouldn't even accept, as a loan, an amount that could cover the cost of a company of soldiers; instead, he expressed great confidence in the future use of his talent that had already shown such a promising start. Our hero, seeing him so stubbornly ignoring his own interest, decided to adjust his approach to friendship based on this delicate situation; in the meantime, he made a generous donation to the hospital from the winnings he had made playing games, and set aside two hundred pounds for a pair of diamond earrings and a solitaire, which he planned to give to Miss Emily.
CHAPTER LXX.
The two Friends eclipse all their Competitors in Gallantry, and practise a pleasant Project of Revenge upon the Physicians of the Place.
The two friends outshine all their rivals in charm and come up with a fun plan for revenge against the local doctors.
The fame of their exploit against the sharpers was immediately diffused through all the companies at Bath; so that, when our adventurers appeared in public, they were pointed out by an hundred extended fingers, and considered as consummate artists in all the different species of finesse, which they would not fail to practise with the first opportunity. Nor was this opinion of their characters any obstacle to their reception into the fashionable parties in the place; but, on the contrary, such a recommendation, which, as I have already hinted, never fails to operate for the advantage of the possessor.
The news of their bold move against the con artists quickly spread throughout all the social circles in Bath. So, when our adventurers showed up in public, they were pointed out by countless fingers and seen as masterful players in all kinds of tricks, which they would be sure to use at the first chance. This opinion of their character didn’t hinder their acceptance into the trendy gatherings in the area; in fact, it was quite the opposite, as such a reputation, as I’ve already mentioned, always tends to work in favor of those who have it.
This first adventure, therefore, served them as an introduction to the company at Bath, who were not a little surprised to find their expectations baffled by the conduct of the two companions; because, far from engaging deeply at play, they rather shunned all occasions of gaming, and directed their attention to gallantry, in which our hero shone unrivalled. His external qualifications, exclusive of any other merit, were strong enough to captivate the common run of the female sex; and these, reinforced with a sprightliness of conversation, and a most insinuating address, became irresistible, even by those who were fortified with pride, caution, or indifference. But, among all the nymphs of this gay place, he did not meet with one object that disputed the empire of his heart with Emilia, and therefore he divided his attachment according to the suggestions of vanity and whim; so that, before he had resided a fortnight at Bath, he had set all the ladies by the ears, and furnished all the hundred tongues of scandal with full employment. The splendour of his appearance excited the inquiries of envy, which, instead of discovering any circumstances to his prejudice, was cursed with the information of his being a young gentleman of a good family, and heir to an immense fortune.
This first adventure served as an introduction to the group in Bath, who were quite surprised to find their expectations thwarted by the behavior of the two companions. Instead of diving into gambling, they actually avoided any chances to play and focused their attention on romance, where our hero truly excelled. His external attributes, aside from any other qualities, were enough to attract the average woman; combined with his lively conversation and charming manner, they became irresistible, even to those fortified with pride, caution, or indifference. However, among all the young women in this lively place, he didn’t find anyone who could rival Emilia for his heart, so he spread his affections based on vanity and whims. Within just a couple of weeks at Bath, he had stirred up drama among the ladies and given plenty of gossip to those with a knack for scandal. His impressive presence sparked jealousy, which, instead of revealing any negative details about him, was only met with the fact that he was a young gentleman from a good family and heir to a vast fortune.
The countenance of some of his quality friends, who arrived at Bath, confirmed this piece of intelligence. Upon which his acquaintance was courted and cultivated with great assiduity; and he met with such advances from some of the fair sex, as rendered him extremely fortunate in his amours. Nor was his friend Godfrey a stranger to favours of the same kind; his accomplishments were exactly calculated for the meridian of female taste; and, with certain individuals of that sex, his muscular frame, and the robust connection of his limbs, were more attractive than the delicate proportions of his companion. He accordingly reigned paramount among those inamoratas who were turned of thirty, without being under the necessity of proceeding by tedious addresses, and was thought to have co-operated with the waters in removing the sterility of certain ladies, who had long undergone the reproach and disgust of their husbands; while Peregrine set up his throne among those who laboured under the disease of celibacy, from the pert miss of fifteen, who, with a fluttering heart, tosses her head, bridles up, and giggles involuntarily at sight of a handsome young man, to the staid maid of twenty-eight, who, with a demure aspect, moralizes on the vanity of beauty, the folly of youth, and simplicity of woman, and expatiates on friendship, benevolence, and good sense, in the style of a Platonic philosopher.
The expressions of some of his high-quality friends who showed up in Bath confirmed this news. As a result, he worked hard to build relationships and enjoyed considerable attention from some women, making him quite lucky in his romantic pursuits. His friend Godfrey also enjoyed similar attention; his traits were perfectly suited to what women liked, and for certain women, his muscular build and strong limbs were more appealing than his companion’s delicate proportions. He thus enjoyed a leading position among the ladies over thirty, without needing to engage in long-winded courtship, and was believed to have teamed up with the local springs to help some women who had long faced frustration and disappointment from their husbands. Meanwhile, Peregrine set up his reign among those suffering from the affliction of being single, from the lively fifteen-year-old girl who, with a racing heart, tosses her head, straightens up, and giggles uncontrollably at the sight of a handsome young man, to the serious twenty-eight-year-old woman who, with a pensive expression, reflects on the futility of beauty, the foolishness of youth, and the simplicity of women while discussing friendship, kindness, and common sense in a way that sounds like a Platonic philosopher.
In such a diversity of dispositions, his conquests were attended with all the heart-burnings, animosities, and turmoils of jealousy and spite. The younger class took all opportunities of mortifying their seniors in public, by treating them with that indignity which, contrary to the general privilege of age, is, by the consent and connivance of mankind, leveled against those who have the misfortune to come under the denomination of old maids; and these last retorted their hostilities in the private machinations of slander, supported by experience and subtilty of invention. Not one day passed in which some new story did not circulate, to the prejudice of one or other of those rivals.
In such a mix of personalities, his achievements were accompanied by all the resentment, conflicts, and turmoil of jealousy and spite. The younger group took every chance to embarrass their elders in public, treating them with a disrespect that, contrary to the usual privileges of age, is, by the agreement and tolerance of society, aimed at those unfortunate enough to be labeled as old maids. The older ones fought back with private schemes of gossip, fueled by their experience and cleverness. Not a day went by without some new rumor spreading, damaging one or the other of those rivals.
If our hero, in the long-room, chanced to quit one of the moralists, with whom he had been engaged in conversation, he was immediately accosted by a number of the opposite faction, who, with ironical smiles, upbraided him with cruelty to the poor lady he had left, exhorted him to have compassion on her sufferings; and, turning their eyes towards the object of their intercession, broke forth into a universal peal of laughter. On the other hand, when Peregrine, in consequence of having danced with one of the minors overnight, visited her in the morning, the Platonists immediately laid hold on the occasion, tasked their imaginations, associated ideas, and, with sage insinuations, retailed a thousand circumstances of the interview, which never had any foundation in truth. They observed, that, if girls are determined to behave with such indiscretion, they must lay their accounts with incurring the censure of the world; that she in question was old enough to act more circumspectly; and wondered that her mother would permit any young fellow to approach the chamber while her daughter was naked in bed. As for the servants peeping through the key-hole, to be sure it was an unlucky accident; but people ought to be upon their guard against such curiosity, and give their domestics no cause to employ their penetration. These and other such reflections were occasionally whispered as secrets among those who were known to be communicative; so that, in a few hours, it became the general topic of discourse; and, as it had been divulged under injunctions of secrecy, it was almost impossible to trace the scandal to its origin; because every person concerned must have promulgated her own breach of trust, in discovering her author of the report.
If our hero happened to leave one of the moralists he was talking to in the long room, he was quickly approached by a group from the opposing side who, with sarcastic smiles, criticized him for being cruel to the poor lady he had just left. They urged him to show compassion for her suffering, and looking toward the subject of their concern, they burst into a loud laugh. On the other hand, when Peregrine visited one of the minors the morning after dancing with her, the Platonists seized the opportunity, got creative, connected ideas, and with wise hints, spread a thousand rumors about the meeting that had no basis in reality. They noted that if girls acted so recklessly, they should be ready to face judgment from society; that the girl in question was old enough to be more cautious; and they were baffled that her mother would allow any young man to approach while her daughter was naked in bed. As for the servants peeking through the keyhole, it was certainly an unfortunate accident, but people should be careful against such curiosity and give their staff no reason to be nosy. These and other similar thoughts were occasionally shared as secrets among those known to gossip, so that within a few hours, it became the main topic of conversation; and since it had been shared under the promise of secrecy, it was nearly impossible to trace the gossip back to its source, as everyone involved would have had to reveal their own breach of trust by exposing who spread the rumor.
Peregrine, instead of allaying, rather exasperated this contention, by an artful distribution of his attention among the competitors; well knowing, that, should his regard be converged into one point, he would soon forfeit the pleasure he enjoyed in seeing them at variance; for both parties would join against the common enemy, and his favourite would be persecuted by the whole coalition. He perceived, that, among the secret agents of scandal, none were so busy as the physicians, a class of animals who live in this place, like so many ravens hovering about a carcase, and even ply for employment, like scullers at Hungerford-stairs. The greatest part of them have correspondents in London, who make it their business to inquire into the history, character, and distemper of every one that repairs to Bath, for the benefit of the waters, and if they cannot procure interest to recommend their medical friends to these patients before they set out, they at least furnish them with a previous account of what they could collect, that their correspondents may use this intelligence for their own advantage. By these means, and the assistance of flattery and assurance, they often insinuate themselves into the acquaintance of strangers, and, by consulting their dispositions, become necessary and subservient to their prevailing passions. By their connection with apothecaries and nurses, they are informed of all the private occurrences in each family, and therefore enabled to gratify the rancour of malice, amuse the spleen of peevish indisposition, and entertain the eagerness of impertinent curiosity.
Peregrine, instead of calming things down, only heightened the tension by cleverly splitting his attention among the rivals; he understood that if he focused on just one of them, he would quickly lose the enjoyment of watching them argue, since both sides would team up against him, and his favorite would be targeted by the whole group. He noticed that, among the secret agents of gossip, none were as active as the doctors, a group of people who linger in this place like vultures circling a carcass and even seek out work like rowers at Hungerford Stairs. Most of them have contacts in London who make it their business to find out the history, character, and ailments of everyone who comes to Bath for the waters, and if they can't get their medical friends recommended to these patients before they arrive, they at least provide them with a background report on what they've gathered so their contacts can use this info for their own gain. Through these methods, combined with flattery and assurance, they often manage to ingratiate themselves with newcomers, and by assessing their moods, they become essential and useful to their dominant desires. By their connections with pharmacists and caregivers, they learn about all the private happenings in each family, allowing them to satisfy the bitterness of malice, entertain the frustrations of a grumpy disposition, and feed the curiosity of nosy individuals.
In the course of these occupations, which frequently affected the reputation of our two adventurers, this whole body fell under the displeasure of our hero, who, after divers consultations with his friend, concerted a stratagem, which was practised upon the faculty in this manner. Among those who frequented the pump-room, was an old officer, whose temper, naturally impatient, was, by repeated attacks of the gout, which had almost deprived him of the use of his limbs, sublimated into a remarkable degree of virulence and perverseness. He imputed the inveteracy of his distemper to the malpractice of a surgeon who had administered to him, while he laboured under the consequences of an unfortunate amour; and this supposition had inspired him with an insurmountable antipathy to all the professors of the medical art, which was more and more confirmed by the information of a friend at London, who had told him, that it was the common practice among the physicians at Bath to dissuade their patients from drinking the water, that the cure, and in consequence their attendance, might be longer protracted.
During these events, which often impacted the reputation of our two adventurers, our hero became increasingly displeased with the entire group. After several discussions with his friend, he devised a plan to target the professionals in this way. Among those who visited the pump-room was an elderly officer whose naturally impatient temperament had been exacerbated by frequent bouts of gout, which had nearly taken away his ability to move. He blamed the severity of his condition on the negligence of a surgeon who treated him while he was dealing with the fallout of an ill-fated romance. This belief fueled an overwhelming dislike for all medical professionals, a feeling only strengthened by what a friend in London told him: that it was common practice among the physicians in Bath to discourage their patients from drinking the water so that the treatment and, consequently, their services could be extended.
Thus prepossessed, he had come to Bath, and, conformable to a few general instructions he had received, used the waters without any farther direction, taking all occasions of manifesting his hatred and contempt of the sons of Esculapius, both by speech and gesticulations, and even by pursuing a regimen quite contrary to that which he knew they prescribed to others who seemed to be exactly in his condition. But he did not find his account in this method, how successful soever it may have been in other cases. His complaints, instead of vanishing, were every day more and more enraged: and at length he was confined to his bed, where he lay blaspheming from morn to night, and from night to morn, though still more determined than ever to adhere to his former maxims.
Thus affected, he had come to Bath, and, following a few general instructions he had received, used the waters without any further guidance, taking every opportunity to show his hatred and disdain for the doctors, both through words and gestures, and even by sticking to a regimen that was completely opposite to what he knew they recommended for others who seemed to be in his exact situation. However, he didn’t benefit from this approach, no matter how successful it may have been for others. His complaints, instead of getting better, became worse every day: and eventually he ended up in bed, where he lay cursing from morning to night, and from night to morning, though still more determined than ever to stick to his previous beliefs.
In the midst of his torture, which was become the common joke of the town, being circulated through the industry of the physicians, who triumphed in his disaster, Peregrine, by means of Mr. Pipes, employed a country fellow, who had come to market, to run with great haste, early one morning, to the lodgings of all the doctors in town, and desire them to attend the colonel with all imaginable despatch. In consequence of this summons, the whole faculty put themselves in motion; and three of the foremost arriving at the same instant of time, far from complimenting one another with the door, each separately essayed to enter, and the whole triumvirate stuck in the passage. While they remained thus wedged together, they descried two of their brethren posting towards the same goal, with all the speed that God had enabled them to exert; upon which they came to a parley, and agreed to stand by one another. This covenant being made, they disentangled themselves, and, inquiring about the patient, were told by the servant that he had just fallen asleep.
In the middle of his suffering, which had become the town's running joke, spreading through the efforts of the doctors who reveled in his misfortune, Peregrine had Mr. Pipes hire a local guy who had come to market to rush early one morning to the houses of all the doctors in town and ask them to attend to the colonel as quickly as possible. As a result of this request, the entire medical team sprang into action; three of the top doctors arrived at the same time, and instead of taking turns to enter, they each tried to go in at once, getting stuck in the doorway. While they were wedged together, they saw two of their colleagues racing towards the same destination as fast as they could manage; so they agreed to help each other. Once they made this agreement, they disentangled themselves and, inquiring about the patient, learned from the servant that he had just fallen asleep.
Having received this intelligence, they took possession of his ante-chamber, and shut the door, while the rest of the tribe posted themselves on the outside as they arrived; so that the whole passage was filled, from the top of the staircase to the street-door; and the people of the house, together with the colonel's servant, struck dumb with astonishment. The three leaders of this learned gang had no sooner made their lodgment good, than they began to consult about the patient's malady, which every one of them pretended to have considered with great care and assiduity. The first who gave his opinion, said, the distemper was an obstinate arthritis; the second affirmed, that it was no other than a confirmed pox; and the third swore, it was an inveterate scurvy. This diversity of opinions was supported by a variety of quotations from medical authors, ancient as well as modern; but these were not of sufficient authority, or, at least, not explicit enough to decide the dispute; for there are many schisms in medicine, as well as in religion, and each sect can quote the fathers in support of the tenets they profess. In short, the contention rose to such a pitch of clamour, as not only alarmed the brethren on the stair, but also awaked the patient from the first nap he had enjoyed in the space of ten whole days. Had it been simply waking, he would have been obliged to them for the noise that disturbed him; for, in that case, he would have been relieved from the tortures of hell fire, to which, in his dreams, he fancied himself exposed. But this dreadful vision had been the result of that impression which was made upon his brain by the intolerable anguish of his joints; so that, when he awaked, the pain, instead of being allayed, was rather aggravated by a great acuteness of sensation; and the confused vociferation in the next room invading his ears at the same time, he began to think his dream was realised, and, in the pangs of despair, applied himself to a bell that stood by his bedside, which he rung with great violence and perseverance.
Having received this information, they took over his waiting room and shut the door, while the rest of the group gathered outside as they arrived; the entire hallway was packed from the top of the stairs to the front door, leaving the people in the house, along with the colonel's servant, speechless with shock. As soon as the three leaders of this learned group established themselves, they started discussing the patient's illness, which each of them claimed to have carefully considered. The first to share his opinion said the condition was a stubborn case of arthritis; the second insisted it was nothing other than a severe case of syphilis; and the third declared it was a chronic case of scurvy. This variety of opinions was backed by different quotes from medical authors, both old and new; however, those references were not authoritative enough, or at least not clear enough, to settle the argument. After all, there are numerous disagreements in medicine, just like in religion, and each faction can cite their traditions in support of their beliefs. In short, the argument escalated to such a level of noise that it not only startled those waiting on the stairs but also woke the patient from the first sleep he had had in ten whole days. If it had just been the noise that woke him, he might have been grateful, as it would have freed him from the torturous nightmares in which he believed he was suffering. But this terrifying vision had resulted from the crushing pain in his joints; so when he woke up, the pain, instead of easing, felt even sharper. The chaotic shouting from the next room pierced his ears, and he began to think his nightmare was coming true. In a fit of despair, he reached for the bell next to his bed and rang it with great force and persistence.
This alarm put an immediate stop to the disputation of the three doctors, who, upon this notice of his being awake, rushed into his chamber, without ceremony; and two of them seizing his arms, the third made the like application to one of his temples. Before the patient could recollect himself from the amazement which had laid hold on him at this unexpected irruption, the room was filled by the rest of the faculty, who followed the servant that entered in obedience to his master's call; and the bed was in a moment surrounded by these gaunt ministers of death. The colonel seeing himself beset with such an assemblage of solemn visages and figures, which he had always considered with the utmost detestation and abhorrence, was incensed to a most inexpressible degree of indignation; and so inspirited by his rage, that though his tongue denied its office, his other limbs performed their functions. He disengaged himself from the triumvirate, who had taken possession of his body, sprung out of bed with incredible agility, and, seizing one of his crutches, applied it so effectually to one of the three, just as he stooped to examine the patient's water, that his tie-periwig dropped into the pot, while he himself fell motionless on the floor.
This alarm instantly stopped the debate among the three doctors, who, upon hearing he was awake, rushed into his room without any formalities. Two of them grabbed his arms while the third tried to examine one of his temples. Before the patient could get over his shock from this unexpected entrance, the room was filled with the rest of the medical staff who followed the servant that had entered at their master's request. In an instant, the bed was surrounded by these gaunt figures that represented death. The colonel, seeing himself confronted by such a group of serious faces and figures that he had always despised, was filled with a level of anger he could hardly express. Fueled by his rage, even though he couldn't speak, his body still reacted. He broke free from the three who had taken hold of him, jumped out of bed with remarkable speed, and grabbed one of his crutches. He used it so effectively on one of the doctors, just as he leaned down to check the patient's urine, that the doctor's wig fell into the pot, and he collapsed motionless on the floor.
This significant explanation disconcerted the whole fraternity; every man turned his face, as if it were by instinct, towards the door; and the retreat of the community being obstructed by the efforts of individuals, confusion and tumultuous uproar ensued. For the colonel, far from limiting his prowess to the first exploit, handled his weapon with astonishing vigour and dexterity, without respect of persons; so that few or none of them had escaped without marks of his displeasure, when his spirits failed, and he sank down again quite exhausted on his bed. Favoured by this respite, the discomfited faculty collected their hats and wigs, which had fallen off in the fray; and perceiving the assailant too much enfeebled to renew the attack, set up their throats together, and loudly threatened to prosecute him severely for such an outrageous assault.
This shocking explanation threw everyone into a panic; each person instinctively turned their face toward the door. As individuals blocked the group's escape, chaos and uproar erupted. The colonel, instead of stopping after the first attack, wielded his weapon with impressive strength and skill, showing no mercy, so that very few of them managed to escape without signs of his anger. Eventually, he became too exhausted to continue and collapsed back onto his bed. Taking advantage of this break, the defeated faculty gathered their hats and wigs, which had fallen off during the conflict, and seeing that the attacker was too weak to strike again, they shouted together and threatened to take serious legal action against him for such a violent assault.
By this time the landlord had interposed; and, inquiring into the cause of the disturbance, was informed of what had happened by the complainants, who, at the same time, giving him to understand that they had been severally summoned to attend the colonel that morning, he assured them that they had been imposed upon by some wag, for his lodger had never dreamed of consulting any one of their profession.
By this point, the landlord had stepped in and, asking about the reason for the disturbance, learned what had occurred from the complainants. They made it clear that they had each been called to see the colonel that morning. He reassured them that they had been tricked by someone playing a prank, as his tenant had never thought about consulting anyone from their profession.
Thunderstruck at this declaration, the general clamour instantaneously ceased; and each, in particular, at once comprehending the nature of the joke, they sneaked silently off with the loss they had sustained, in unutterable shame and mortification; while Peregrine and his friend, who took care to be passing that way by accident, made a full stop at sight of such an extraordinary efflux, and enjoyed the countenance and condition of every one as he appeared; nay, even made up to some of those who seemed most affected with their situation, and mischievously tormented them with questions, touching this unusual congregation; then, in consequence of the information they received from the landlord and the colonel's valet, subjected the sufferers to the ridicule of all the company in town. As it would have been impossible for the authors of this farce to keep themselves concealed from the indefatigable inquiries of the physicians, they made no secret of their having directed the whole: though they took care to own it in such an ambiguous manner, as afforded no handle of prosecution.
Stunned by this announcement, the general noise immediately stopped; and each person, quickly understanding the nature of the joke, sneaked away in silence, feeling deeply ashamed and embarrassed. Meanwhile, Peregrine and his friend, who just happened to be passing by, halted at the sight of such a strange exodus and took pleasure in observing everyone's expressions as they left. They even approached some of those who looked most upset, playfully teasing them with questions about this unusual gathering. Then, based on information they got from the landlord and the colonel's servant, they exposed the victims to the mockery of everyone in town. Since it would have been impossible for the creators of this prank to hide from the tireless questions of the doctors, they didn’t hide the fact that they orchestrated everything; however, they made sure to admit it in such a vague way that it left no grounds for prosecution.
CHAPTER LXXI.
Peregrine humbles a noted Hector, and meets with a strange Character at the House of a certain Lady.
Peregrine brings a famous Hector down a notch and encounters a peculiar character at the home of a certain lady.
Among those who never failed to reside at Bath during the season, was a certain person, who, from the most abject misery, had, by his industry and art at play, amassed about fifteen thousand pounds; and though his character was notorious, insinuated himself so far into the favour of what is called the best company, that very few private parties of pleasure took place in which he was not principally concerned. He was of a gigantic stature, a most intrepid countenance; and his disposition, naturally overbearing, had, in the course of his adventures and success, acquired a most intolerable degree of insolence and vanity. By the ferocity of his features, and audacity of his behaviour, he had obtained a reputation for the most undaunted courage, which had been confirmed by divers adventures, in which he had humbled the most assuming heroes of his own fraternity; so that he now reigned chief Hector of the place with unquestioned authority.
Among those who always made sure to spend the season in Bath was a certain person who, rising from absolute misery, had, through his hard work and gambling skills, gathered about fifteen thousand pounds. Despite his notorious reputation, he managed to ingratiate himself with what is known as the best company, to the extent that very few social gatherings happened without him being a key part of them. He was of enormous height and had a bold face; his naturally domineering personality, over time and with his success, had developed into an unbearable level of arrogance and pride. Thanks to the fierce look on his face and his audacious behavior, he gained a reputation for exceptional bravery, which was validated by various feats where he had brought down the most conceited heroes of his own circle, so that he now ruled as the chief figure of the place with unquestioned authority.
With this son of fortune was Peregrine one evening engaged at play, and so successful, that he could not help informing his friend of his good luck. Godfrey, hearing the description of the loser, immediately recognized the person, whom he had known at Tunbridge; and, assuring Pickle that he was a sharper of the first water, cautioned him against any further connection with such a dangerous companion, who, he affirmed, had suffered him to win a small sum, that he might be encouraged to lose a much greater sum upon some other occasion.
One evening, Peregrine was playing with this lucky guy, and he was doing so well that he couldn’t help but tell his friend about his good fortune. Godfrey, hearing about the loser, immediately recognized him from Tunbridge; he warned Pickle that the guy was a serious cheat and advised him to steer clear of such a risky companion. Godfrey insisted that the loser had let him win a small amount just to make him more likely to lose a much larger amount another time.
Our young gentleman treasured up this advice; and though he did not scruple to give the gamester an opportunity of retrieving his loss, when he next day demanded his revenge, he absolutely refused to proceed after he had refunded his winning. The other, who considered him as a hot-headed unthinking youth, endeavoured to inflame his pride to a continuance of the game, by treating his skill with scorn and contempt; and, among other sarcastic expressions, advised him to go to school again, before he pretended to engage with masters of the art. Our hero, incensed at his arrogance, replied with great warmth, that he knew himself sufficiently qualified for playing with men of honour, who deal upon the square, and hoped he should always deem it infamous either to learn or practise the tricks of a professed gamester. “Blood and thunder! meaning me, sir?” cried this artist, raising his voice, and curling his visage into a most intimidating frown. “Zounds! I'll cut the throat of any scoundrel who has the presumption to suppose that I don't play as honourably as e'er a nobleman in the kingdom: and I insist upon an explanation from you, sir; or, by hell and brimstone! I shall expect other sort of satisfaction.” Peregrine (whose blood by this time boiled within him) answered without hesitation, “Far from thinking your demand unreasonable, I will immediately explain myself without reserve, and tell you, that, upon unquestionable authority, I believe you to be an impudent rascal and common cheat.”
Our young gentleman took this advice to heart; and although he didn’t hesitate to give the gambler a chance to win back his losses when he asked for a rematch the next day, he outright refused to continue after giving back his winnings. The gambler, seeing him as an impulsive and reckless young man, tried to provoke his pride to continue playing by belittling his skills and treating him with disdain; among other sarcastic remarks, he suggested that he should go back to school before he thought he could compete with masters of the game. Our hero, offended by his arrogance, responded passionately that he knew he was more than qualified to play with honorable men who compete fairly, and he hoped he would always find it disgraceful to learn or use the tricks of a professional gambler. “What the hell! Are you talking about me, sir?” shouted the gambler, raising his voice and glaring fiercely. “I’ll slit the throat of anyone who has the nerve to think I don’t play as honorably as any nobleman in the kingdom: I demand an explanation from you, sir; or, by hell and damnation! I’ll expect some other form of satisfaction.” Peregrine, whose anger was boiling by then, replied without hesitation, “Not only do I find your demand reasonable, but I will explain myself clearly and tell you that, based on reliable information, I believe you to be an arrogant scoundrel and a common cheat.”
The Hector was so amazed and confounded at the freedom of this declaration, which he thought no man on earth would venture to make in his presence, that, for some minutes, he could not recollect himself; but at length whispered a challenge in the ear of our hero, which was accordingly accepted. When they arrived next morning upon the field, the gamester, arming his countenance with all its terrors, advanced with a sword of a monstrous length, and, putting himself in a posture, called out aloud in a most terrific voice, “Draw, d—n ye, draw; I will this instant send you to your fathers.” The youth was not slow in complying with his desire; his weapon was unsheathed in a moment, and he began the attack with such unexpected spirit and address, that his adversary, having made shift with great difficulty to parry the first pass, retreated a few paces, and demanded a parley, in which he endeavoured to persuade the young man, that to lay a man of his character under the necessity of chastising his insolence, was the most rash and inconsiderate step that he could possibly have taken; but that he had compassion upon his youth, and was willing to spare him if he would surrender his sword, and promise to ask pardon in public for the offence he had given. Pickle was so much exasperated at this unparalleled effrontery, that, without deigning to make the least reply, he flung his own hat in the proposer's face, and renewed the charge with such undaunted agility, that the gamester, finding himself in manifest hazard of his life, betook himself to his heels, and fled homewards with incredible speed, being closely pursued by Peregrine, who, having sheathed his sword, pelted him with stones as he ran, and compelled him to go, that same day, into banishment from Bath, where he had domineered so long.
Hector was so shocked and thrown off by this bold statement, which he thought no man would dare to make in front of him, that for a few minutes, he couldn't gather his thoughts. Eventually, he whispered a challenge to our hero, which was accepted. The next morning, when they arrived at the field, the gambler, trying to look as intimidating as possible, approached with an incredibly long sword and, taking a fighting stance, shouted in a terrifying voice, “Draw, damn you, draw; I’ll send you straight to your fathers.” The young man quickly complied; his weapon was out in an instant, and he launched an attack with such unexpected energy and skill that his opponent barely managed to block the first thrust. He stepped back a few paces and called for a truce, trying to convince the young man that forcing someone of his reputation to punish his insolence was a reckless and foolish move. He claimed he felt sorry for the young man's inexperience and would spare him if he surrendered his sword and publicly apologized for his offense. Pickle was so infuriated by this outrageous boldness that, without replying at all, he threw his hat in the offeror's face and charged at him with such fearless speed that the gambler, realizing he was in serious danger, turned and ran home at an unbelievable speed, being chased by Peregrine, who, after sheathing his sword, threw stones at him as he fled, forcing him to leave Bath that same day, where he had ruled for so long.
By this achievement, which was the subject of astonishment to all the company, who had looked upon the fugitive as a person of heroic courage, our adventurer's reputation was rendered formidable in all its circumstances; although he thereby disobliged a good many people of fashion, who had contracted an intimacy of friendship with the exile, and who resented his disgrace, as if it had been the misfortune of a worthy man. These generous patrons, however, bore a very small proportion to those who were pleased with the event of the duel; because, in the course of their residence at Bath, they had either been insulted or defrauded by the challenger. Nor was this instance of our hero's courage unacceptable to the ladies, few of whom could now resist the united force of such accomplishments. Indeed, neither he nor his friend Godfrey would have found much difficulty in picking up an agreeable companion for life; but Gauntlet's heart was pre-engaged to Sophy; and Pickle, exclusive of his attachment to Emily, which was stronger than he himself imagined, possessed such a share of ambition as could not be satisfied with the conquest of any female he beheld at Bath.
By this achievement, which amazed everyone present who viewed the runaway as someone of heroic courage, our adventurer's reputation became quite formidable in every aspect. However, he displeased a good number of fashionable people who had formed a friendship with the exile and who took his disgrace personally, as if it were the misfortune of a worthy individual. These generous supporters, though, were a small fraction compared to those who were pleased with the outcome of the duel, as many had faced insults or deceit from the challenger during their stay in Bath. Additionally, this display of our hero's bravery was well-received by the ladies, few of whom could now resist the combined appeal of such talents. In fact, neither he nor his friend Godfrey would have struggled much to find a suitable life partner; but Gauntlet’s heart was already committed to Sophy, while Pickle, apart from his deeper connection to Emily—stronger than he realized—had enough ambition that no simple conquest at Bath would satisfy him.
His visits were, therefore, promiscuous, without any other view than that of amusement; and though his pride was flattered by the advances of the fair, whom he had captivated, he never harboured one thought of proceeding beyond the limits of common gallantry, and carefully avoided all particular explanations. But, what above all other enjoyments yielded him the most agreeable entertainment, was the secret history of characters, which he learned from a very extraordinary person, with whom he became acquainted in this manner.
His visits were, therefore, casual, with no purpose other than having fun; and although his ego was boosted by the attention of the women he had charmed, he never entertained the idea of moving beyond the bounds of basic flirtation and deliberately steered clear of any detailed discussions. However, what brought him the greatest pleasure above all else was the insider knowledge of people's stories, which he learned from a truly remarkable person he met through this connection.
Being at the house of a certain lady on a visiting day, he was struck with the appearance of an old man, who no sooner entered the room than the mistress of the house very kindly desired one of the wits present to roast the old put. This petit-maitre, proud of the employment, went up to the senior, who had something extremely peculiar and significant in his countenance, and saluting him with divers fashionable congees, accosted him in these words: “Your servant, you old rascal. I hope to have the honour of seeing you hanged. I vow to Gad! you look extremely shocking, with these gummy eyes, lanthorn jaws, and toothless chaps. What! you squint at the ladies, you old rotten medlar? Yes, yes, we understand your ogling; but you must content yourself with a cook-maid, sink me! I see you want to sit. These withered shanks of yours tremble under their burden; but you must have a little patience, old Hirco! indeed you must. I intend to mortify you a little longer, curse me!”
While visiting a certain lady's house on a social day, he was taken aback by the appearance of an old man. As soon as the man entered the room, the hostess kindly asked one of the clever guests to make fun of the old man. This stylish guest, pleased with the task, approached the old man, who had something remarkably distinctive and telling about his face. After greeting him with various fashionable gestures, he said, “How’s it going, you old rascal? I hope to see you hanged someday. I swear, you look awful, with those droopy eyes, bony jaw, and toothless grin. What’s this? You’re checking out the ladies, you old rotten fruit? Yeah, we see your leering; but you'll just have to settle for a maid, I swear! I can see you want to sit down. Those withered legs of yours are shaking under the pressure; but you’ll need to be a bit more patient, old man! You really will. I plan to tease you a little longer, I swear!”
The company was so tickled with this address, which was delivered with much grimace and gesticulation, that they burst out into a loud fit of laughter, which they fathered upon a monkey that was chained in the room; and, when the peal was over, the wit renewed the attack in these words: “I suppose you are fool enough to think this mirth was occasioned by Pug. Ay, there he is; you had best survey him; he is of your own family; switch me. But the laugh was at your expense; and you ought to thank Heaven for making you so ridiculous.” While he uttered these ingenious ejaculations, the old gentleman bowed alternately to him and the monkey, that seemed to grin and chatter in imitation of the beau, and, with an arch solemnity of visage, pronounced, “Gentlemen, as I have not the honour to understand your compliments, they will be much better bestowed on each other.” So saying, he seated himself, and had the satisfaction to see the laugh returned upon the aggressor, who remained confounded and abashed, and in a few minutes left the room, muttering, as he retired, “The old fellow grows scurrilous, stap my breath!”
The company was so amused by this speech, which was delivered with plenty of grimacing and gesturing, that they burst into loud laughter, which they attributed to a monkey that was chained in the room. Once the laughter died down, the witty speaker resumed with these words: “I imagine you’re foolish enough to think this laughter was caused by Pug. There he is; you might want to take a look at him; he’s part of your family; can you believe it? But the joke was at your expense, and you should be grateful to Heaven for making you so ridiculous.” As he said these clever remarks, the older gentleman bowed alternately to him and the monkey, which seemed to grin and chatter in imitation of the dandy, and, with an arch seriousness on his face, said, “Gentlemen, since I don’t have the honor of understanding your compliments, they would be better shared between yourselves.” With that, he sat down and took satisfaction in seeing the laughter turn back on the instigator, who looked confused and embarrassed, and a few minutes later left the room, muttering as he went, “The old guy is getting downright rude, I swear!”
While Peregrine wondered in silence at this extraordinary scene, the lady of the house perceiving his surprise, gave him to understand, that the ancient visitant was utterly bereft of the sense of hearing; that his name was Cadwallader Crabtree, his disposition altogether misanthropical; and that he was admitted into company on account of entertainment he afforded by his sarcastic observations, and the pleasant mistakes to which he was subject from his infirmity. Nor did our hero wait a long time for an illustration of this odd character. Every sentence he spoke was replete with gall; nor did his satire consist in general reflections, but a series of remarks, which had been made through the medium of a most whimsical peculiarity of opinion.
While Peregrine silently marveled at this extraordinary scene, the lady of the house, noticing his surprise, explained that the old visitor was completely deaf; his name was Cadwallader Crabtree, and he had a rather misanthropic personality. He was included in their gatherings because he provided entertainment with his sarcastic comments and the amusing misunderstandings that arose from his condition. Our hero didn't have to wait long for an example of this unusual character. Every sentence he uttered was filled with bitterness; his satire didn't consist of general observations but rather a series of comments stemming from a remarkably odd perspective.
Among those who were present at this assembly was a young officer, who having, by dint of interest, obtained a seat in the lower house, thought it incumbent upon him to talk of affairs of state; and accordingly regaled the company with an account of a secret expedition which the French were busied in preparing; assuring them that he had it from the mouth of the minister, to whom it had been transmitted by one of his agents abroad. In descanting upon the particulars of the armament, he observed that they had twenty ships of the line ready manned and victualled at Brest, which were destined for Toulon, where they would be joined by as many more; and from thence proceed to the execution of their scheme, which he imparted as a secret not fit to be divulged.
Among those present at this meeting was a young officer who, through personal connections, had managed to secure a position in the lower house. He felt it was his duty to discuss state affairs and entertained the group with details of a secret mission that the French were preparing. He assured them that he had received this information directly from the minister, who had learned it from one of his agents abroad. While elaborating on the specifics of the armament, he noted that there were twenty ships of the line fully crewed and stocked at Brest, set to head to Toulon, where they would be joined by an equal number. From there, they would proceed with their plan, which he revealed as a confidential matter not meant for public knowledge.
This piece of intelligence being communicated to all the company except Mr. Crabtree, who suffered by his loss of hearing, that cynic was soon after accosted by a lady, who, by means of an artificial alphabet, formed by a certain conjunction and disposition of the fingers, asked if he had heard any extraordinary news of late. Cadwallader, with his usual complaisance, replied, that he supposed she took him for a courier or spy, by teasing him eternally with that question. He then expatiated upon the foolish curiosity of mankind, which, he said, must either proceed from idleness or want of ideas; and repeated almost verbatim the officer's information, a vague ridiculous report invented by some ignorant coxcomb, who wanted to give himself airs of importance, and believed only by those who were utterly unacquainted with the politics and strength of the French nation.
This piece of information was shared with everyone in the company except Mr. Crabtree, who was hard of hearing. Shortly after, that cynic was approached by a lady who, using an artificial alphabet created through specific gestures of her fingers, asked if he had heard any interesting news lately. Cadwallader, with his usual charm, responded that he figured she must think he was a courier or spy, since she kept asking him that question. He then elaborated on the silly curiosity of people, saying it must come from being idle or lacking original thoughts. He repeated almost verbatim the officer's information, a vague and ridiculous rumor made up by some ignorant fool trying to seem important, which only those totally clueless about the politics and power of France believed.
In confirmation of what he had advanced, he endeavoured to demonstrate how impossible it must be for that people to fit out even the third part of such a navy, so soon after the losses they had sustained during the war; and confirmed his proof by asserting, that to his certain knowledge, the harbours of Brest and Toulon could not at that time produce a squadron of eight ships of the line. The member, who was an utter stranger to this misanthrope, hearing his own asseverations treated with such contempt, glowed with confusion and resentment, and, raising his voice, began to defend his own veracity, with great eagerness and trepidation, mingling with his arguments many blustering invectives, against the insolence and ill manners of his supposed contradictor, who sat with the most mortifying composure of countenance, till the officer's patience was quite exhausted, and then, to the manifest increase of his vexation, he was informed, that his antagonist was so deaf, that in all probability, the last trumpet would make no impression upon him, without a previous renovation of his organs.
To back up his claims, he tried to show how impossible it would be for that people to equip even a third of such a navy, especially after the losses they had just suffered during the war. He backed this up by stating that, to his knowledge, the harbors of Brest and Toulon couldn’t even produce a squadron of eight ships of the line at that time. The member, who had no idea who this misanthrope was, felt embarrassed and angry when he heard his own statements dismissed so harshly. Raising his voice, he started to defend his honesty, speaking quickly and nervously while throwing in a bunch of loud insults about the arrogance and poor manners of the person he believed was contradicting him, who sat there with a disturbingly calm expression. Eventually, the officer's patience wore thin, and much to his annoyance, he was told that his opponent was so deaf that even the last trumpet wouldn’t reach him without some serious help with his hearing.
CHAPTER LXXII.
He cultivates an Acquaintance with the Misanthrope, who favours him with a short Sketch of his own History.
He forms a friendship with the Misanthrope, who shares a brief overview of his own history.
Peregrine was extremely well pleased with this occasional rebuke, which occurred so seasonably, that he could scarce believe it accidental. He looked upon Cadwallader as the greatest curiosity he had ever known, and cultivated the old man's acquaintance with such insinuating address, that in less than a fortnight he obtained his confidence. As they one day walked into the fields together, the man-hater disclosed himself in these words:—“Though the term of our communication has been but short, you must have perceived, that I treat you with uncommon marks of regard; which, I assure you, is not owing to your personal accomplishments, nor the pains you take to oblige me; for the first I overlook, and the last I see through. But there is something in your disposition which indicates a rooted contempt for the world, and I understand you have made some successful efforts in exposing one part of it to the ridicule of the other. It is upon this assurance that I offer you my advice and assistance, in prosecuting other schemes of the same nature; and to convince you that such an alliance is not to be rejected, I will now give you a short sketch of my history, which will be published after my death, in forty-seven volumes of my own compiling.
Peregrine was quite happy with this occasional criticism, which came at just the right time that he could hardly believe it was accidental. He regarded Cadwallader as the most fascinating person he had ever met and cultivated the old man's friendship with such charm that in less than two weeks, he earned his trust. One day as they strolled through the fields together, the misanthrope revealed himself with these words: “Even though our time together has been short, you must have noticed that I treat you with unusual affection; which, I assure you, isn't due to your personal qualities, nor the efforts you make to please me; for I disregard the former and see through the latter. But there’s something about your character that shows a deep contempt for the world, and I hear you’ve successfully ridiculed one part of it in front of the other. Based on this, I offer you my advice and help in pursuing similar endeavors; and to show you that this partnership is worth considering, I’ll now give you a brief outline of my history that will be published after my death in forty-seven volumes of my own making.”
“I was born about forty miles from this place, of parents who, having a very old family name to support, bestowed their whole fortune on my elder brother; so that I inherited of my father little else than a large share of choler, to which I am indebted for a great many adventures that did not always end to my satisfaction. At the age of eighteen I was sent up to town, with a recommendation to a certain peer, who found means to amuse me with the promise of a commission for seven whole years; and 'tis odds but I should have made my fortune by my perseverance, had not I been arrested, and thrown into the Marshalsea by my landlord, on whose credit I had subsisted three years, after my father had renounced me as an idle vagabond. There I remained six months, among those prisoners who have no other support than chance charity; and contracted a very valuable acquaintance, which was of great service to me in the future emergencies of my life.
“I was born about forty miles from here, to parents who, having a very old family name to uphold, spent their entire fortune on my older brother. As a result, I inherited from my father little more than a bad temper, which has led to a lot of adventures that didn’t always turn out well for me. At eighteen, I was sent to the city with a recommendation to a certain nobleman, who kept me entertained with the promise of a commission for seven long years. It’s likely I would have made my fortune through my determination if I hadn’t been arrested and thrown into the Marshalsea by my landlord, who I had depended on for three years after my father had disowned me as a useless wanderer. I stayed there for six months, among prisoners who relied solely on random acts of kindness; and I formed a valuable connection that would help me in future emergencies in my life.”
“I was no sooner discharged, in consequence of an act of parliament for the relief of insolvent debtors, than I went to the house of my creditor, whom I cudgelled without mercy; and, that I might leave nothing undone of those things which I ought to have done, my next stage was to Westminster Hall, where I waited until my patron came forth from the house, and saluted him with a blow that laid him senseless on the pavement. But my retreat was not so fortunate as I could have wished. The chairman and lacqueys in waiting having surrounded and disarmed me in a trice, I was committed to Newgate, and loaded with chains; and a very sagacious gentleman, who was afterwards hanged, having sat in judgment upon my case, pronounced me guilty of a capital crime, and foretold my condemnation at the Old Bailey. His prognostic, however, was disappointed; for nobody appearing to prosecute me at the next session, I was discharged by order of the court. It would be impossible for me to recount, in the compass of one day's conversation, all the particular exploits of which I bore considerable share. Suffice it to say, I have been, at different times, prisoner in all the jails within the bills of mortality. I have broken from every round-house on this side Temple-bar. No bailiff, in the days of my youth and desperation, durst execute a writ upon me without a dozen of followers; and the justices themselves trembled when I was brought before them.
“I was barely released, thanks to a law for helping insolvent debtors, when I went straight to my creditor's house and beat him without mercy. To make sure I did everything I should have done, my next stop was Westminster Hall, where I waited until my patron came out and I attacked him with a blow that knocked him out cold on the pavement. However, my escape didn’t go as smoothly as I had hoped. The chairman and attendants quickly surrounded and disarmed me, and I was tossed into Newgate, weighed down with chains. A rather clever guy, who was eventually hanged, sat in judgment on my case, declared me guilty of a serious crime, and predicted I'd be condemned at the Old Bailey. However, his prediction didn’t come true; since no one showed up to press charges at the next session, I was released by the court’s order. It would be impossible for me to cover all the specific exploits I was involved in during a single day's conversation. All I’ll say is that I've been a prisoner in every jail within the city limits. I’ve escaped from every round-house on this side of Temple-bar. No bailiff, during my reckless youth, dared to serve a writ on me without a dozen people backing him up, and even the justices shook in fear when I was brought before them.”
“I was once maimed by a carman, with whom I quarrelled, because he ridiculed my leek on St. David's day; my skull was fractured by a butcher's cleaver on the like occasion. I have been run through the body five times, and lost the tip of my left ear by a pistol bullet. In a rencontre of this kind, having left my antagonist for dead, I was wise enough to make my retreat into France; and a few days after my arrival at Paris, entering into conversation with some officers on the subject of politics, a dispute arose, in which I lost my temper, and spoke so irreverently of the Grand Monarque, that next morning I was sent to the Bastille, by virtue of a lettre de cachet. There I remained for some months, deprived of all intercourse with rational creatures; a circumstance for which I was not sorry, as I had the more time to project schemes of revenge against the tyrant who confined me, and the wretch who had betrayed my private conversation. But tired, at length, with these fruitless suggestions, I was fain to unbend the severity of my thoughts by a correspondence with some industrious spiders, who had hung my dungeon with their ingenious labours.
“I was once injured by a car driver I had a fight with because he made fun of my leek on St. David's Day; my skull was fractured by a butcher's cleaver during a similar incident. I've been stabbed five times and lost the tip of my left ear to a bullet. After leaving one of these encounters, thinking my opponent was dead, I wisely retreated to France. A few days after arriving in Paris, while talking with some officers about politics, a dispute broke out, and I lost my temper, speaking disrespectfully about the Grand Monarch. The next morning, I was sent to the Bastille, thanks to a lettre de cachet. I stayed there for several months, cut off from any contact with rational beings, which I didn’t mind too much since it gave me more time to plan revenge against the tyrant who imprisoned me and the scoundrel who reported our private conversation. Eventually, tired of these pointless thoughts, I found a way to ease my mind by corresponding with some industrious spiders, who had decorated my dungeon with their clever webs.”
“I considered their work with such attention that I soon became an adept in the mystery of weaving, and furnished myself with as many useful observations and reflections on that art, as will compose a very curious treatise, which I intend to bequeath to the Royal Society, for the benefit of our woollen manufacture; and this with a view to perpetuate my own name, rather than befriend my country; for, thank Heaven! I am weaned from all attachments of that kind, and look upon myself as one very little obliged to any society whatsoever. Although I presided with absolute power over this long-legged community, and distributed punishments and rewards to each, according to his deserts, I grew impatient of my situation; and my natural disposition one day prevailing, like a fire which had long been smothered, I wreaked the fury of my indignation upon my innocent subjects, and in a twinkling destroyed the whole race. While I was employed in this general massacre, the turnkey, who brought me food, opened the door, and perceiving my transport, shrugged up his shoulders, and leaving my allowance, went out, pronouncing, Le pauvre diable! la tete lui tourne. My passion no sooner subsided than I resolved to profit by this opinion of the jailor, and from that day counterfeited lunacy with such success, that in less than three months I was delivered from the Bastille, and sent to the galleys, in which they thought my bodily vigour might be of service, although the faculties of my mind were decayed. Before I was chained to the oar, I received three hundred stripes by way of welcome, that I might thereby be rendered more tractable, notwithstanding I used all the arguments in my power to persuade them I was only mad north-north-west, and, when the wind was southerly, knew a hawk from a handsaw.
“I focused on their work so intently that I quickly became skilled in the art of weaving, gathering many useful observations and insights on the craft, which I plan to compile into a curious treatise. I intend to present it to the Royal Society for the benefit of our wool industry; this is mainly to ensure my legacy rather than to help my country, as I’m relieved to say I've detached myself from such bonds and feel little obligation to any society at all. Even though I had absolute control over this long-legged community and distributed rewards and punishments based on their merits, I grew restless in my position. One day, my natural tendencies erupted like a long-suppressed fire, and in my rage, I destroyed the entire population in an instant. While I was carrying out this massacre, the jailer who brought me food opened the door, saw my outburst, shrugged his shoulders, and left my meal behind, saying, 'Poor guy! He's losing it.' As soon as my anger cooled, I decided to take advantage of the jailer's view of me; from that day on, I pretended to be insane so effectively that within three months, I was released from the Bastille and sent to the galleys, where they thought my physical strength might be useful, despite the decline of my mind. Before I was chained to the oar, I received three hundred lashes as a sort of initiation, meant to make me more compliant, even though I used every argument I could to convince them I was only crazy in a specific way, and when the circumstances changed, I could distinguish a hawk from a handsaw.”
“In our second cruise we had the good fortune to be overtaken by a tempest, during which the slaves were unbound, that they might contribute the more to the preservation of the galley, and have a chance for their lives, in case of shipwreck. We were no sooner at liberty, than, making ourselves masters of the vessel, we robbed the officers, and ran her on shore among rocks on the coast of Portugal; from whence I hastened to Lisbon, with a view of obtaining my passage in some ship bound for England, where, by this time, I hoped my affair was forgotten.
“In our second cruise, we were fortunate enough to be caught in a storm, during which the slaves were released so they could help save the galley and have a chance to survive in case of a shipwreck. As soon as we were free, we took control of the ship, stole from the officers, and ran it aground among the rocks on the coast of Portugal. From there, I quickly made my way to Lisbon, hoping to find a passage on a ship headed for England, where I thought my situation would have been forgotten by now.”
“But, before this scheme could be accomplished, my evil genius led me into company; and, being intoxicated, I began to broach doctrines on the subject of religion, at which some of the party were scandalized and incensed; and I was next day dragged out of bed by the officers of the Inquisition, and conveyed to a cell in the prison belonging to that tribunal.
“But before I could carry out this plan, my bad luck got me mixed up with some people; and, being drunk, I started talking about my views on religion, which shocked and angered some of the group. The next day, I was yanked out of bed by the Inquisition officers and taken to a cell in their prison.”
“At my first examination, my resentment was strong enough to support me under the torture, which I endured without flinching; but my resolution abated, and my zeal immediately cooled, when I understood from a fellow-prisoner, who groaned on the other side of the partition, that in a short time there would be an auto da fe; in consequence of which I should, in all probability, be doomed to the flames, if I would not renounce my heretical errors, and submit to such penance as the church should think fit to prescribe. This miserable wretch was convicted of Judaism, which he had privately practised by connivance for many years, until he had amassed a fortune sufficient to attract the regard of the church. To this he fell a sacrifice, and accordingly prepared himself for the stake; while I, not at all ambitious of the crown of martyrdom, resolved to temporize; so that, when I was brought to the question the second time, I made a solemn recantation. As I had no worldly fortune to obstruct my salvation, I was received into the bosom of the church, and, by way of penance, enjoined to walk barefoot to Rome in the habit of a pilgrim.
“At my first examination, my anger was strong enough to help me endure the torture, which I faced without showing any fear; but my determination wavered, and my passion quickly faded when I learned from a fellow prisoner, who was groaning on the other side of the wall, that there would soon be an auto da fe. Because of this, I would likely be condemned to the flames if I didn’t renounce my heretical beliefs and submit to whatever penance the church decided to impose. This unfortunate man was found guilty of practicing Judaism in secret for many years until he had built up a fortune that caught the church's attention. He became a victim of this and thus prepared himself for the stake; meanwhile, I, who had no desire for the honor of martyrdom, decided to play it safe. So when I was brought back for questioning the second time, I made a formal recantation. Since I had no earthly possessions to stand in the way of my salvation, I was welcomed back into the church and, as penance, required to walk barefoot to Rome dressed as a pilgrim.”
“During my peregrination through Spain, I was detained as a spy, until I could procure credentials from the Inquisition at Lisbon; and behaved with such resolution and reserve, that, after being released, I was deemed a proper person to be employed in quality of a secret intelligencer at a certain court. This office I undertook without hesitation; and being furnished with money and bills of credit, crossed the Pyrenees, with intention to revenge myself upon the Spaniards for the severities I had undergone during my captivity.
“While traveling through Spain, I was held as a spy until I could get credentials from the Inquisition in Lisbon. I acted with such determination and restraint that after I was released, I was considered a suitable person to be used as a secret informant at a certain court. I took on this role without hesitation, and equipped with money and bills of credit, I crossed the Pyrenees with the intention of getting revenge on the Spaniards for the harsh treatment I endured during my captivity.
“Having therefore effectually disguised myself by a change of dress, and a large patch on one eye, I hired an equipage, and appeared at Bologna in quality of an itinerant physician; in which capacity I succeeded tolerably well, till my servants decamped in the night with my baggage, and left me in the condition of Adam. In short, I have travelled over the greatest part of Europe, as a beggar, pilgrim, priest, soldier, gamester, and quack; and felt the extremes of indigence and opulence, with the inclemency of weather in all its vicissitudes. I have learned that the characters of mankind are everywhere the same; that common sense and honesty bear an infinitely small proportion to folly and vice; and that life is at best a paltry province.
“After effectively disguising myself with a change of clothes and a large patch over one eye, I rented a carriage and showed up in Bologna as a traveling physician. I did reasonably well in that role until my servants ran off in the night with my luggage, leaving me in a situation like Adam. In short, I’ve traveled across most of Europe as a beggar, pilgrim, priest, soldier, gambler, and con artist; I’ve experienced extremes of poverty and wealth, as well as all the harsh weather conditions. I've learned that people's character is pretty much the same everywhere; that common sense and honesty are in a tiny minority compared to foolishness and vice; and that life is, at best, a pretty miserable affair.”
“After having suffered innumerable hardships, dangers, and disgraces, I returned to London, where I lived some years in a garret, and picked up a subsistence, such as it was, by vending purges in the streets, from the back of a pied horse, in which situation I used to harangue the mob in broken English, under pretence of being an High German doctor.
“After going through countless struggles, dangers, and humiliations, I returned to London, where I lived for several years in a small attic and made a living, as best as I could, by selling medications in the streets from the back of a spotted horse. In that role, I would address crowds in broken English, pretending to be a high German doctor.”
“At last an uncle died, by whom I inherited an estate of three hundred pounds per annum, though, in his lifetime, he would not have parted with a sixpence to save my soul and body from perdition.
“At last, an uncle died, and I inherited an estate of three hundred pounds a year, even though, while he was alive, he wouldn’t have given a penny to save my soul and body from damnation."
“I now appear in the world, not as a member of any community, or what is called a social creature, but merely as a spectator, who entertains himself with the grimaces of a jack-pudding, and banquets his spleen in beholding his enemies at loggerheads. That I may enjoy this disposition, abstracted from all interruption, danger, and participation, I feign myself deaf; an expedient by which I not only avoid all disputes and their consequences, but also become master of a thousand little secrets, which are every day whispered in my presence, without any suspicion of their being overheard. You saw how I handled that shallow politician at my Lady Plausible's the other day. The same method I practise upon the crazed Tory, the bigot Whig, the sour, supercilious pedant, the petulant critic, the blustering coward, the fawning fool, the pert imp, sly sharper, and every other species of knaves and fools, with which this kingdom abounds.
“I now show up in the world, not as part of any community or what you’d call a social being, but just as a bystander, who entertains himself with the antics of a clown and indulges his irritation by watching his enemies argue. To enjoy this state of mind, cut off from all interruptions, danger, and involvement, I pretend to be deaf; a trick that helps me avoid all arguments and their fallout, and also lets me learn a hundred little secrets that are whispered around me every day, without anyone suspecting I’m listening. You saw how I dealt with that shallow politician at Lady Plausible's the other day. I use the same tactic on the crazed Tory, the bigot Whig, the sour, arrogant scholar, the touchy critic, the loud coward, the obsequious fool, the cheeky brat, the sly con artist, and every other type of knaves and fools that this kingdom is full of.”
“In consequence of my rank and character, I obtain free admission to the ladies, among whom I have acquired the appellation of the Scandalous Chronicle. As I am considered, while silent, in no other light than that of a footstool or elbow-chair, they divest their conversation of all restraint before me, and gratify my sense of hearing with strange things, which, if I could prevail upon myself to give the world that satisfaction, would compose a curious piece of secret history, and exhibit a quite different idea of characters from what is commonly entertained.
“Because of my status and reputation, I get free access to the women, among whom I've earned the nickname the Scandalous Chronicle. Since I'm viewed, when I'm quiet, as nothing more than a footstool or an armchair, they speak freely around me and share unusual things that, if I could bring myself to share with the world, would create an intriguing piece of hidden history and present a very different perspective on people's characters than what is usually believed.”
“By this time, young gentleman, you may perceive that I have it in my power to be a valuable correspondent, and that it will be to your interest to deserve my confidence.”
“By now, young man, you might realize that I can be a valuable ally, and that it would be in your best interest to earn my trust.”
Here the misanthrope left off speaking, desirous to know the sentiments of our hero, who embraced the proffered alliance in a transport of joy and surprise; and the treaty was no sooner concluded, than Mr. Crabtree began to perform articles, by imparting to him a thousand delicious secrets, from the possession of which he promised himself innumerable scenes of mirth and enjoyment. By means of this associate, whom he considered as the ring of Gyges, he foresaw, that he should be enabled to penetrate, not only into the chambers, but even to the inmost thoughts of the female sex. In order to ward off suspicion, they agreed to revile each other in public, and meet at a certain private rendezvous, to communicate their mutual discoveries, and concert their future operations.
Here the misanthrope stopped speaking, eager to hear our hero’s thoughts, who accepted the offered partnership with excitement and surprise. As soon as the deal was made, Mr. Crabtree started to keep his promises by sharing a ton of juicy secrets, which he believed would lead to countless moments of laughter and fun. With this partner, whom he saw as his magic ring, he expected that he would be able to understand not only the private lives but also the deepest feelings of women. To avoid raising any suspicion, they decided to insult each other in public and meet at a specific private spot to share their findings and plan their next moves.
But, soon after this agreement, our adventurer was summoned to the garrison by an express from his friend Hatchway, representing that the commodore lay at the point of death; and, in less than an hour after the receipt of this melancholy piece of news, he set out post for his uncle's habitation, having previously taken leave of Crabtree, who promised to meet him in two months in London; and settled a correspondence with Gauntlet, who proposed to remain at Bath during the rest of the season.
But soon after this agreement, our adventurer was called to the garrison by a message from his friend Hatchway, saying that the commodore was at death's door. Less than an hour after hearing this sad news, he left quickly for his uncle's place, having said goodbye to Crabtree, who promised to meet him in two months in London, and arranged to stay in touch with Gauntlet, who planned to stay in Bath for the rest of the season.
CHAPTER LXXIII.
Peregrine arrives at the Garrison, where he receives the last Admonitions of Commodore Trunnion, who next Day resigns his Breath, and is buried according to his own Directions—Some Gentlemen in the Country make a fruitless Attempt to accommodate Matters betwixt Mr. Gamaliel Pickle and his eldest Son.
Peregrine gets to the Garrison, where he hears the final warnings from Commodore Trunnion, who the next day passes away and is buried according to his own wishes. Some gentlemen in the area make an unsuccessful attempt to resolve issues between Mr. Gamaliel Pickle and his oldest son.
About four o'clock in the morning our hero arrived at the garrison, where he found his generous uncle in extremity, supported in bed by Julia on one side, and Lieutenant Hatchway on the other, while Mr. Jolter administered spiritual consolation to his soul; and between whiles comforted Mrs. Trunnion, who, with her maid, sat by the fire, weeping with great decorum; the physician having just taken his last fee, and retired, after pronouncing the fatal prognostic, in which he anxiously wished he might be mistaken.
About four o'clock in the morning, our hero arrived at the garrison, where he found his generous uncle in a critical condition, supported in bed by Julia on one side and Lieutenant Hatchway on the other, while Mr. Jolter offered spiritual comfort to him; in the meantime, he also consoled Mrs. Trunnion, who, along with her maid, sat by the fire, weeping quietly and appropriately. The doctor had just taken his final payment and left after delivering a grim diagnosis, hoping he might be wrong.
Though the commodore's speech was interrupted by a violent hiccup, he still retained the use of his senses; and, when Peregrine approached, stretched out his hand with manifest signs of satisfaction. The young gentleman, whose heart overflowed with gratitude and affection, could not behold such a spectacle unmoved. He endeavoured to conceal his tenderness, which, in the wildness of his youth, and the pride of his disposition, he considered as a derogation from his manhood; but, in spite of all his endeavours, the tears gushed from his eyes, while he kissed the old man's hand; and he was so utterly disconcerted by his grief, that, when he attempted to speak, his tongue denied its office; so that the commodore, perceiving his disorder, made a last effort of strength, and consoled him in these words:—“Swab the spray from your bowsprit, my good lad, and coil up your spirits. You must not let the toplifts of your heart give way, because you see me ready to go down at these years. Many a better man has foundered before he has made half my way; thof I trust, by the mercy of God, I shall be sure in port in a very few glasses, and fast moored in a most blessed riding; for my good friend Jolter hath overhauled the journal of my sins, and, by the observation he hath taken of the state of my soul, I hope I shall happily conclude my voyage, and be brought up in the latitude of heaven. Here has been a doctor that wanted to stow me chock full of physic; but, when a man's hour is come, what signifies his taking his departure with a 'pothecary's shop in his hold? Those fellows come alongside of dying men, like the messengers of the Admiralty with sailing orders; but I told him as how I could slip my cable without his direction or assistance, and so he hauled off in dudgeon. This cursed hiccup makes such a rippling in the current of my speech, that mayhap you don't understand what I say. Now, while the sucker of my wind-pump will go, I would willingly mention a few things, which I hope you will set down in the log-book of your remembrance, when I am stiff, d'ye see. There's your aunt sitting whimpering by the fire; I desire you will keep her tight, warm, and easy in her old age, she's an honest heart in her own way, and, thof she goes a little crank and humoursome, by being often overstowed with Nantz and religion, she has been a faithful shipmate to me, and I daresay she never turned in with another man since we first embarked in the same bottom. Jack Hatchway, you know the trim of her as well as e'er a man in England, and I believe she has a kindness for you; whereby, if you two will grapple in the way of matrimony, when I am gone, I do suppose that my godson, for love of me, will allow you to live in the garrison all the days of your life.”
Though the commodore's speech was interrupted by a loud hiccup, he still kept his senses; and when Peregrine approached, he stretched out his hand with clear signs of satisfaction. The young man, whose heart was filled with gratitude and affection, couldn’t watch this scene without being affected. He tried to hide his emotions, which, in the recklessness of his youth and the pride of his character, he viewed as a weakness; but despite all his efforts, tears streamed down his face as he kissed the old man's hand. He was so overwhelmed by his grief that, when he tried to speak, his tongue failed him. Noticing his distress, the commodore mustered his strength and comforted him with these words: “Wipe the spray from your bow, my good lad, and pull yourself together. Don’t let your heart break just because you see me ready to go at my age. Many a better man has sunk before he reached half my journey; though I trust, by the mercy of God, I’ll be safely in port in just a few moments, firmly anchored in a blessed place. My good friend Jolter has gone through my sins, and based on his assessment of my soul, I hope to end my journey well and arrive in the heavenly realm. A doctor wanted to load me up with medicine; but when a man’s time has come, what does it matter if he leaves with a pharmacy in his hold? Those guys show up for dying men like naval officers with sailing orders; but I told him I could manage my exit without his help, and so he left in a huff. This annoying hiccup disrupts my speech so much that you might not understand me. Now, while my lungs are working, I’d like to mention a few things, which I hope you’ll remember when I’m gone, you see. There’s your aunt sitting there crying by the fire; I ask that you keep her warm and comfortable in her old age. She has a good heart in her own way, and although she can be a bit cranky and moody, often overwhelmed by wine and religion, she has been a faithful companion to me, and I’m sure she hasn’t shared a bed with anyone else since we first set sail together. Jack Hatchway, you know her well, and I believe she has feelings for you; if you two decide to marry after I’m gone, I hope my godson, in memory of me, will allow you to stay in the garrison for the rest of your life.”
Peregrine assured him, he would with pleasure comply with any request he should make in behalf of two persons whom he esteemed so much. The lieutenant, with a waggish sneer, which even the gravity of the situation could not prevent, thanked them both for their good-will, telling the commodore, he was obliged to him for his friendship, in seeking to promote him to the command of a vessel which he himself had worn out in the service; but that, notwithstanding, he should be content to take charge of her, though he could not help being shy of coming after such an able navigator.
Peregrine assured him that he would gladly fulfill any request he might make on behalf of the two people he valued so highly. The lieutenant, with a playful grin that the seriousness of the situation couldn't suppress, thanked them both for their goodwill, telling the commodore that he appreciated his support in trying to promote him to the command of a ship that he himself had worn out in service; however, he would be fine taking charge of her, even though he couldn’t help feeling a bit hesitant about following such a skilled navigator.
Trunnion, exhausted as he was, smiled at this sally, and, after some pause, resumed his admonitions in this manner:—“I need not talk of Pipes, because I know you'll do for him without any recommendation; the fellow has sailed with me in many a hard gale, and I'll warrant him as stout a seaman as ever set face to the weather. But I hope you'll take care of the rest of my crew, and not disrate them after I am dead, in favour of new followers. As for that young woman, Ned Gauntlet's daughter, I'm informed as how she's an excellent wench, and has a respect for you; whereby, if you run her on board in an unlawful way, I leave my curse upon you, and trust you will never prosper in the voyage of life. But I believe you are more of an honest man, than to behave so much like a pirate. I beg, of all love, you wool take care of your constitution, and beware of running foul of harlots, who are no better than so many mermaids, that sit upon rocks in the sea, and hang out a fair face for the destruction of passengers; thof I must say, for my own part, I never met with any of those sweet singers, and yet I have gone to sea for the space of thirty years. But howsomever, steer your course clear of all such brimstone b—s. Shun going to law, as you would shun the devil; and look upon all attorneys as devouring sharks, or ravenous fish of prey. As soon as the breath is out of my body, let minute guns be fired, till I am safe under ground. I would also be buried in the red jacket I had on when I boarded and took the Renummy. Let my pistols, cutlass, and pocket-compass be laid in the coffin along with me. Let me be carried to the grave by my own men, rigged in the black caps and white shirts which my barge's crew were wont to wear; and they must keep a good look out, that none of your pilfering rascallions may come and heave me up again, for the lucre of what they can get, until the carcase is belayed by a tombstone. As for the motto, or what you call it, I leave that to you and Mr. Jolter, who are scholars; but I do desire, that it may not be engraved in the Greek or Latin lingos, and much less in the French, which I abominate, but in plain English, that, when the angel comes to pipe all hands, at the great day, he may know that I am a British man, and speak to me in my mother tongue. And now I have no more to say, but God in heaven have mercy upon my soul, and send you all fair weather, wheresoever you are bound.”
Trunnion, as tired as he was, smiled at this remark and, after a moment, continued his advice: "I won’t bother talking about Pipes because I know you’ll take care of him without any help from me; he’s been through many tough times with me, and I can guarantee he’s as tough a sailor as anyone who’s ever faced the sea. But please, look after the rest of my crew and don’t demote them after I’m gone in favor of new recruits. As for that young woman, Ned Gauntlet’s daughter, I’ve heard she’s a great girl and respects you; so if you treat her poorly, I curse you and hope you never succeed in life. But I think you’re too decent of a man to act like a pirate. I ask you, out of love, to take care of yourself and steer clear of women who are no better than mermaids, luring sailors to their doom with their looks; though I must admit, in my thirty years at sea, I’ve never come across any of those charming singers. Regardless, avoid all those troublemakers. Stay away from lawsuits like you would from the devil, and see all lawyers as greedy sharks or predatory fish. Once I’m gone, let cannon fire until I’m safely in the ground. I’d like to be buried in the red jacket I was wearing when I boarded and captured the Renummy. Place my pistols, cutlass, and pocket compass in the coffin with me. I want my own crew to carry me to the grave, dressed in the black caps and white shirts my boat crew used to wear; they need to keep an eye out so none of those thieving scoundrels try to dig me up for profit until my body is laid to rest under a tombstone. As for the inscription, I’ll leave that to you and Mr. Jolter, who are educated; but I want it in plain English, so when the angel calls everyone on Judgment Day, he knows I’m British and can speak to me in my own language. And now I have nothing more to add, but may God in heaven have mercy on my soul and grant you all good fortune, wherever you may be headed."
So saying, he regarded every individual around him with a look of complacency, and closing his eye, composed himself to rest, while the whole audience, Pipes himself not excepted, were melted with sorrow; and Mrs. Trunnion consented to quit the room, that she might not be exposed to the unspeakable anguish of seeing him expire.
So saying, he looked at everyone around him with a sense of satisfaction, closed his eyes, and settled down to rest, while the entire audience, including Pipes, was overwhelmed with sadness; and Mrs. Trunnion agreed to leave the room so she wouldn't have to endure the unbearable pain of watching him die.
His last moments, however, were not so near as they imagined. He began to doze, and enjoyed small intervals of ease, till next day in the afternoon; during which remissions, he was heard to pour forth many pious ejaculations, expressing his hope, that, for all the heavy cargo of his sins, he should be able to surmount the puttock-shrouds of despair, and get aloft to the cross-trees of God's good favour. At last his voice sunk so low as not to be distinguished; and, having lain about an hour, almost without any perceptible signs of life, he gave up the ghost with a groan which announced his decease.
His last moments, however, were not as close as they thought. He started to doze off and enjoyed small moments of relief until the next afternoon; during these breaks, he was heard to express many pious thoughts, sharing his hope that despite the heavy burden of his sins, he would be able to rise above feelings of despair and find his way back to God’s favor. Eventually, his voice became so faint it couldn’t be heard, and after lying there for about an hour, nearly without any noticeable signs of life, he let out a groan that signaled his passing.
Julia was no sooner certified of this melancholy event, than she ran to her aunt's chamber, weeping aloud; and immediately a very decent concert was performed by the good widow and her attendants. Peregrine and Hatchway retired till the corpse should be laid out; and Pipes having surveyed the body, with a face of rueful attention,—“Well fare thy soul! old Hawser Trunnion,” said he: “man and boy I have known thee these five-and-thirty years, and sure a truer heart never broke biscuit. Many a hard gale hast thou weathered; but now thy spells are all over, and thy hull fairly laid up. A better commander I'd never desire to serve; and who knows but I may help to set up thy standing rigging in another world?”
Julia was no sooner informed of this sad news than she rushed to her aunt's room, crying out loud; and right away, a decent gathering took place with the good widow and her helpers. Peregrine and Hatchway stepped away until the body could be prepared; and Pipes, after looking over the body with a sorrowful expression, said, “Rest in peace, old Hawser Trunnion. I've known you man and boy for thirty-five years, and there was never a truer heart. You’ve weathered many storms, but now your time is up, and your ship is finally docked. I couldn’t have asked for a better captain to serve under; and who knows, maybe I’ll help get your sails up in another life?”
All the servants of the house were affected with the loss of their old master; and the poor people in the neighbourhood assembled at the gate, and, by repeated howlings, expressed their sorrow for the death of their charitable benefactor. Peregrine, though he felt everything which love and gratitude could inspire on this occasion, was not so much overwhelmed with affliction as to be incapable of taking the management of the family into his own hands. He gave directions about the funeral with great discretion, after having paid the compliments of condolence to his aunt, whom he consoled with the assurance of his inviolable esteem and affection. He ordered a suit of mourning to be made for every person in the garrison, and invited all the neighbouring gentlemen to the burial, not even excepting his father and brother Gam, who did not, however, honour the ceremony with their presence; nor was his mother humane enough to visit her sister-in-law in her distress.
All the servants in the house were saddened by the loss of their old master, and the local people gathered at the gate, expressing their grief for the death of their kind benefactor with loud cries. Peregrine, although deeply moved with love and gratitude during this time, was not so overwhelmed with sorrow that he couldn't take charge of the family. He carefully arranged the funeral after offering condolences to his aunt, reassuring her of his unwavering respect and love. He ordered mourning outfits to be made for everyone in the household and invited all the local gentlemen to the burial, even his father and brother Gam, who, however, did not attend the ceremony; nor did his mother show enough compassion to visit her sister-in-law in her time of need.
In the method of interment, the commodore's injunctions were obeyed to a title; and at the same time our hero made a donation of fifty pounds to the poor of the parish, as a benefaction which his uncle had forgot to bequeath. Having performed these obsequies with the most pious punctuality, he examined the will, to which there was no addition since it had first been executed, adjusted the payment of all the legacies, and, being sole executor, took an account of the estate to which he had succeeded, which, after all deductions, amounted to thirty thousand pounds. The possession of such a fortune, of which he was absolute master, did not at all contribute to the humiliation of his spirit, but inspired him with new ideas of grandeur and magnificence, and elevated his hope to the highest pinnacle of expectation.
In the burial process, the commodore's instructions were followed exactly, and at the same time, our hero donated fifty pounds to the poor of the parish, as a charity his uncle had forgotten to leave in his will. Having carried out these final rites with the utmost dedication, he took a look at the will, which had not changed since it was first signed, settled the payment of all the legacies, and, as the sole executor, assessed the estate he had inherited, which, after all deductions, totaled thirty thousand pounds. Holding such a fortune, of which he was the complete owner, didn't humiliate him at all; instead, it inspired him with new visions of grandeur and wealth, elevating his hopes to the highest level of expectation.
His domestic affairs being settled, he was visited by almost all the gentlemen of the county, who came to pay their compliments of congratulation on his accession to the estate; and some of them offered their good offices towards a reconciliation betwixt his father and him, induced by the general detestation which was entertained for his brother Gam, who was by this time looked upon by his neighbours as a prodigy of insolence and malice. Our young squire thanked them for their kind proposal, which he accepted; and old Gamaliel, at their entreaties, seemed very well disposed to any accommodation: but as he would not venture to declare himself before he had consulted his wife, his favourable disposition was rendered altogether ineffectual, by the instigations of that implacable woman; and our hero resigned all expectation of being reunited to his father's house. His brother, as usual, took all opportunities of injuring his character, by false aspersions, and stories misrepresented, in order to prejudice his reputation; nor was his sister Julia suffered to enjoy her good fortune in peace. Had he undergone such persecution from an alien to his blood, the world would have heard of his revenge; but, notwithstanding his indignation, he was too much tinctured by the prejudices of consanguinity, to lift his arm in judgment against the son of his own parents; and this consideration abridged the term of his residence at the garrison, where he had proposed to stay for some months.
Having settled his personal matters, he was visited by almost all the gentlemen of the county, who came to congratulate him on inheriting the estate; some even offered their help in mending the relationship between him and his father, motivated by the general dislike for his brother Gam, who was now seen by their neighbors as an embodiment of rudeness and malice. Our young squire appreciated their kind offer and accepted it; and old Gamaliel, upon their urging, appeared open to any reconciliation. However, since he wouldn’t commit to anything until he had talked to his wife, his willingness became completely ineffective due to the influence of that relentless woman. As a result, our hero gave up all hope of being welcomed back into his father's home. His brother, as usual, seized every opportunity to tarnish his character with false accusations and twisted stories aimed at ruining his reputation; even his sister Julia was not allowed to enjoy her good fortune in peace. If he had faced such harassment from someone unrelated to him, the world would have known of his revenge; but despite his anger, he was too influenced by family loyalty to turn against the child of his own parents, and this consideration shortened his stay at the garrison, where he had planned to remain for a few months.
CHAPTER LXXIV.
The young Gentleman, having settled his domestic Affairs, arrives in London, and sets up a gay Equipage—He meets with Emilia, and is introduced to her Uncle.
The young gentleman, having sorted out his home affairs, arrives in London and sets up a flashy carriage. He runs into Emilia and meets her uncle.
His aunt, at the earnest solicitations of Julia and her husband, took up her quarters at the house of that affectionate kinswoman, who made it her chief study to comfort and cherish the disconsolate widow; and Jolter, in expectation of the living, which was not yet vacant, remained in garrison, in quality of land-steward upon our hero's country estate. As for the lieutenant, our young gentleman communed with him in a serious manner about the commodore's proposal of taking Mrs. Trunnion to wife; and Jack, being quite tired of the solitary situation of a bachelor, which nothing but the company of his old commander could have enabled him to support so long, far from discovering aversion from the match, observed with an arch smile, that it was not the first time he had commanded a vessel in the absence of Captain Trunnion; and therefore, if the widow was willing, he would cheerfully stand by her helm, and, as he hoped the duty would not be of long continuance, do his endeavour to steer her safe into port, where the commodore might come on board, and take charge of her again.
His aunt, responding to Julia and her husband’s heartfelt requests, decided to stay at the home of her caring relative, who focused on comforting and supporting the grieving widow. Meanwhile, Jolter, anticipating the vacant position that wasn't available yet, remained at the estate as the land-steward for our hero's country property. As for the lieutenant, our young gentleman had a serious conversation with him about the commodore's suggestion of marrying Mrs. Trunnion. Jack, having grown quite tired of being a bachelor—which he could only endure thanks to the company of his old commander—didn't show any dislike for the union. With a playful smile, he noted that it wasn’t the first time he had been in charge of a vessel while Captain Trunnion was away; so if the widow was open to it, he would gladly take the helm for her and, hoping this duty wouldn’t last long, do his best to navigate her safely to port, where the commodore could come aboard and take over again.
In consequence of this declaration, it was determined that Mr. Hatchway should make his addresses to Mrs. Trunnion as soon as decency would permit her to receive them; and Mr. Clover and his wife promised to exert their influence on his behalf. Meanwhile, Jack was desired to live at the castle as usual, and assured, that it should be put wholly in his possession, as soon as he should be able to accomplish this matrimonial scheme.
As a result of this declaration, it was decided that Mr. Hatchway should approach Mrs. Trunnion as soon as it was appropriate for her to accept his attention; Mr. Clover and his wife agreed to use their influence to support him. In the meantime, Jack was asked to stay at the castle as he usually did and was assured that it would be entirely his to manage once he succeeded in this marriage plan.
When Peregrine had settled all these points to his own satisfaction, he took leave of all his friends, and, repairing to the great city, purchased a new chariot and horses, put Pipes and another lacquey into rich liveries, took elegant lodgings in Pall Mall, and made a most remarkable appearance among the people of fashion.
When Peregrine had figured all this out to his own satisfaction, he said goodbye to his friends and went to the big city. He bought a new carriage and horses, dressed Pipes and another servant in fine uniforms, got a stylish place to stay in Pall Mall, and made a huge impression among the fashionable crowd.
It was owing to this equipage, and the gaiety of his personal deportment, that common fame, which is always a common liar, represented him as a young gentleman who had just succeeded to an estate of five thousand pounds per annum, by the death of an uncle; that he was entitled to an equal fortune at the decease of his own father, exclusive of two considerable jointures, which would devolve upon him at the demise of his mother and aunt. This report, false and ridiculous as it was, he could not find in his heart to contradict. Not but that he was sorry to find himself so misrepresented; but his vanity would not allow him to take any step that might diminish his importance in the opinion of those who courted his acquaintance, on the supposition that his circumstances were actually as affluent as they were said to be. Nay, so much was he infatuated by this weakness, that he resolved to encourage the deception, by living up to the report; and accordingly engaged in the most expensive parties of pleasure, believing that, before his present finances should be exhausted, his fortune would be effectually made, by the personal accomplishments he should have occasion to display to the beau monde in the course of his extravagance. In a word, vanity and pride were the ruling foibles of our adventurer, who imagined himself sufficiently qualified to retrieve his fortune in various shapes, long before he could have any idea of want or difficulty. He thought he should have it in his power, at any time, to make a prize of a rich heiress, or opulent widow; his ambition had already aspired to the heart of a young handsome duchess dowager, to whose acquaintance he had found means to be introduced; or, should matrimony chance to be unsuitable to his inclinations, he never doubted, that, by the interest he might acquire among the nobility, he should be favoured with some lucrative post, that would amply recompense him for the liberality of his disposition. There are many young men who entertain the same expectations, with half the reason he had to be so presumptuous.
Due to this fancy lifestyle and his cheerful demeanor, word on the street—always unreliable—painted him as a young guy who had just inherited an annual income of five thousand pounds from an uncle's death. It was said that he stood to inherit an equal fortune when his father passed away, not to mention two sizable joint fortunes he would receive upon the death of his mother and aunt. Despite how false and absurd this rumor was, he couldn’t bring himself to deny it. While he felt regret over the misrepresentation, his vanity stopped him from doing anything that might undermine his status in the eyes of those who sought his friendship, believing his financial situation was as wealthy as claimed. In fact, he was so caught up in this vanity that he decided to go along with the deception by living as if the rumors were true. He threw himself into lavish parties, convinced that before he ran out of money, he would have made his fortune through the charm and skills he showcased in high society during his spending spree. In short, vanity and pride dominated our protagonist, who believed he was more than capable of turning his fortunes around in various ways long before he faced any real struggle or hardship. He thought he could easily win over a wealthy heiress or a rich widow at any time; his ambitions had even reached the heart of a beautiful young dowager duchess, with whom he managed to make connections. And if marriage didn’t suit his tastes, he was confident that the connections he would make among the elite would lead to a lucrative position that would generously reward his generous spirit. Many young men share the same dreams, with far less justification than he had to be so presumptuous.
In the midst of these chimerical calculations, his passion for Emilia did not subside; but, on the contrary, began to rage with such an inflammation of desire, that her idea interfered with every other reflection, and absolutely disabled him from prosecuting the other lofty schemes which his imagination had projected. He therefore laid down the honest resolution of visiting her in all the splendour of his situation, in order to practise upon her virtue with all his art and address, to the utmost extent of his affluence and fortune. Nay, so effectually had his guilty passion absorbed his principles of honour, conscience, humanity, and regard for the commodore's last words, that he was base enough to rejoice at the absence of his friend Godfrey, who, being then with his regiment in Ireland, could not dive into his purpose, or take measures for frustrating his vicious design.
In the middle of these confusing calculations, his feelings for Emilia didn't fade; instead, they intensified with such a strong desire that thoughts of her disrupted all other reflections, making it impossible for him to pursue the grand plans he had imagined. So, he made the honest decision to visit her in the full splendor of his situation, intending to charm her virtue with all his skill and resources, to the best of his wealth and fortune. In fact, his guilty passion had completely overshadowed his sense of honor, conscience, humanity, and respect for the commodore's last words, leading him to selfishly celebrate the absence of his friend Godfrey, who was then in Ireland with his regiment and couldn't uncover his intentions or take steps to foil his immoral plan.
Fraught with these heroic sentiments, he determined to set out for Sussex in his chariot and six, attended by his valet-de-chambre and two footmen; and as he was now sensible that in his last essay he had mistaken his cue, he determined to change his battery, and sap the fortress, by the most submissive, soft, and insinuating behaviour.
Filled with these heroic feelings, he decided to head to Sussex in his six-horse carriage, accompanied by his servant and two footmen. Since he realized he had misunderstood his approach in his last attempt, he planned to switch tactics and wear down the defenses with the most humble, gentle, and flattering behavior.
On the evening that preceded this proposed expedition, he went into one of the boxes at the playhouse, as usual, to show himself to the ladies; and reconnoitring the company through a glass (for no other reason but because it was fashionable to be purblind), perceived his mistress very plainly dressed, in one of the seats above the stage, talking to another young woman of a very homely appearance. Though his heart beat the alarm with the utmost impatience at sight of his Emilia, he was for some minutes deterred from obeying the impulse of his love, by the presence of some ladies of fashion, who, he feared, would think the worse of him, should they see him make his compliment in public to a person of her figure. Nor would the violence of his inclination have so far prevailed over his pride, as to lead him thither, had he not recollected, that his quality friends would look upon her as some handsome Abigail, with whom he had an affair of gallantry, and of consequence give him credit for the intrigue.
On the evening before this planned trip, he went into one of the boxes at the theater, as usual, to show himself to the ladies; and, using a telescope (just because it was stylish to appear a bit nearsighted), he spotted his mistress clearly dressed, sitting in one of the seats above the stage, chatting with another young woman who looked very plain. Although his heart raced with impatience at the sight of Emilia, he hesitated for several minutes to act on his feelings because some fashionable ladies were present, and he feared they would think poorly of him if they saw him greet someone of her appearance in public. His strong desire for her wouldn't have been enough to overcome his pride and bring him over there, if he hadn't remembered that his quality friends would see her as just a pretty maid he was having a fling with, and therefore assume he was involved in some romantic escapade.
Encouraged by this suggestion, he complied with the dictates of love, and flew to the place where his charmer sat. His air and dress were so remarkable, that it was almost impossible he should have escaped the eyes of a curious observer, especially as he had chosen a time for coming in, when his entrance could not fail to attract the notice of the spectators; I mean, when the whole house was hushed in attention to the performance on the stage. Emilia, therefore, perceived him at his first approach; she found herself discovered by the direction of his glass, and, guessing his intention by his abrupt retreat from the box, summoned all her fortitude to her aid, and prepared for his reception. He advanced to her with an air of eagerness and joy, tempered with modesty and respect, and expressed his satisfaction at seeing her, with a seeming reverence of regard. Though she was extremely well pleased at this unexpected behaviour, she suppressed the emotions of her heart, and answered his compliments with affected ease and unconcern, such as might denote the good humour of a person who meets by accident with an indifferent acquaintance. After having certified himself of her own good health, he very kindly inquired about her mother and Miss Sophy, gave her to understand that he had lately been favoured with a letter from Godfrey; that he had actually intended to set out next morning on a visit to Mrs. Gauntlet, which, now that he was so happy as to meet with her, he would postpone, until he should have the pleasure of attending her to the country. After having thanked him for his polite intention, she told him, that her mother was expected in town in a few days, and that she herself had come to London some weeks ago, to give attendance upon her aunt, who had been dangerously ill, but was now pretty well recovered.
Encouraged by the idea, he followed the call of love and rushed to the spot where his beloved was seated. His appearance and outfit were so striking that it was nearly impossible for any curious onlooker to miss him, especially since he chose a moment to arrive when everyone was focused on the performance on stage. Emilia noticed him as soon as he approached; she realized she was seen when he directed his gaze her way, and, sensing his intent from his sudden retreat from the box, mustered all her courage to prepare for his arrival. He approached her with eagerness and joy, tempered by modesty and respect, expressing his happiness at seeing her with a sense of reverence. Though she was thrilled by his unexpected behavior, she held back her feelings, responding to his compliments with a casual ease, as if greeting an indifferent acquaintance. After confirming that she was well, he kindly asked about her mother and Miss Sophy. He let her know that he had recently received a letter from Godfrey and intended to set off the next morning to visit Mrs. Gauntlet, but since he was so lucky to meet her, he would postpone it until he could escort her to the countryside. After thanking him for his thoughtful intention, she informed him that her mother was expected in town in a few days and that she had come to London a few weeks earlier to care for her aunt, who had been seriously ill but was now recovering well.
Although the conversation of course turned upon general topics, during the entertainment he took all opportunities of being particular with his eyes, through which he conveyed a thousand tender protestations. She saw and inwardly rejoiced at the humility of his looks; but, far from rewarding it with one approving glance, she industriously avoided this ocular intercourse, and rather coquetted with a young gentleman that ogled her from the opposite box. Peregrine's penetration easily detected her sentiments, and he was nettled at her dissimulation, which served to confirm him in his unwarrantable designs upon her person. He persisted in his assiduities with indefatigable perseverance; when the play was concluded, handed her and her companion into a hackney-coach, and with difficulty was permitted to escort them to the house of Emilia's uncle, to whom our hero was introduced by the young lady, as an intimate friend of her brother Godfrey.
Although the conversation naturally focused on general topics, throughout the event he seized every chance to express his feelings through his gaze, conveying a thousand tender messages. She noticed and secretly delighted in the humility of his looks; however, rather than rewarding him with a single approving glance, she deliberately avoided eye contact and flirted with a young man who was watching her from the opposite box. Peregrine easily sensed her feelings and felt annoyed by her pretense, which only strengthened his inappropriate intentions toward her. He continued to pursue her with relentless determination; when the play ended, he helped her and her friend into a cab and, after some effort, was allowed to escort them to Emilia's uncle's house, where Emilia introduced him as a close friend of her brother Godfrey.
The old gentleman, who was no stranger to the nature of Peregrine's connection with his sister's family, prevailed upon him to stay supper, and seemed particularly well pleased with his conversation and deportment, which, by the help of his natural sagacity, he wonderfully adapted to the humour of his entertainer. After supper, when the ladies were withdrawn, and the citizen called for his pipe, our sly adventurer followed his example. Though he abhorred the plant, he smoked with an air of infinite satisfaction, and expatiated upon the virtues of tobacco, as if he had been deeply concerned in the Virginia trade. In the progress of the discourse, he consulted the merchant's disposition; and the national debt coming upon the carpet, held forth upon the funds like a professed broker. When the alderman complained of the restrictions and discouragements of trade, his guest inveighed against exorbitant duties, with the nature of which he seemed as well acquainted as any commissioner of the customs; so that the uncle was astonished at the extent of his knowledge, and expressed his surprise that a gay young gentleman like him should have found either leisure or inclination to consider subjects so foreign to the fashionable amusements of youth.
The old gentleman, who knew about Peregrine's connection to his sister's family, persuaded him to stay for dinner and seemed genuinely pleased with his conversation and behavior, which he skillfully tailored to match his host's mood. After dinner, when the women had left the room and the citizen asked for his pipe, our clever explorer did the same. Although he detested tobacco, he smoked with an air of great satisfaction and talked about the benefits of it as if he had a major stake in the Virginia trade. As the conversation went on, he gauged the merchant's mood, and when the national debt came up, he spoke about the funds like a seasoned broker. When the alderman complained about the restrictions and challenges in trade, his guest criticized the high duties with a familiarity that rivaled any customs commissioner, leaving the uncle amazed at the depth of his knowledge and expressing disbelief that a young man like him would find time or interest in topics so far removed from the typical pastimes of youth.
Pickle laid hold on this opportunity to tell him that he was descended from a race of merchants; and that, early in life, he had made it his business to instruct himself in the different branches of trade, which he not only studied as his family profession, but also as the source of all our national riches and power. He then launched out in praise of commerce, and the promoters thereof; and, by way of contrast, employed all his ridicule in drawing such ludicrous pictures of the manners and education of what is called high life, that the trader's sides were shaken by laughter, even to the danger of his life; and he looked upon our adventurer as a miracle of sobriety and good sense. Having thus ingratiated himself with the uncle, Peregrine took his leave, and next day, in the forenoon, visited the niece in his chariot, after she had been admonished by her kinsman to behave with circumspection, and cautioned against neglecting or discouraging the addresses of such a valuable admirer.
Pickle seized this chance to tell him that he came from a lineage of merchants and that, early on, he had dedicated himself to learning the various aspects of trade. He not only studied it as his family’s profession but also viewed it as the foundation of our national wealth and power. He then passionately praised commerce and its supporters, and in contrast, he used all his sarcasm to create funny caricatures of the lifestyle and education of what is known as high society. The trader laughed so hard he risked his life, and he saw our adventurer as a model of sobriety and sense. Having won over the uncle, Peregrine took his leave, and the next day, in the morning, visited the niece in his carriage after she had been warned by her relative to be cautious and to appreciate the advances of such a valuable admirer.
CHAPTER LXXV.
He prosecutes his Design upon Emilia with great Art and Perseverance.
He pursues his plan with Emilia skillfully and with determination.
Our adventurer, having by his hypocrisy obtained free access to his mistress, began the siege by professing the most sincere contrition for his former levity, and imploring her forgiveness with such earnest supplication, that, guarded as she was against his flattering arts, she began to believe his protestations, which were even accompanied with tears, and abated a good deal of that severity and distance she had proposed to maintain during this interview. She would not, however, favour him with the least acknowledgment of a mutual passion, because, in the midst of his vows of eternal constancy and truth, he did not mention one syllable of wedlock, though he was now entirely master of his own conduct, and this consideration created a doubt, which fortified her against all his attacks. Yet, what her discretion would have concealed, was discovered by her eyes, which, in spite of all her endeavours, breathed forth complacency and love; for her inclination was flattered by her own self-sufficiency, which imputed her admirer's silence in that particular to the hurry and perturbation of his spirits, and persuaded her that he could not possibly regard her with any other than honourable intentions.
Our adventurer, having cleverly gained access to his mistress, started his campaign by expressing deep regret for his past behavior and begging for her forgiveness with such genuine appeal that, despite her defenses against his sweet talk, she began to believe him. His tears helped soften her initial severity and distance she had planned to keep during their meeting. However, she wouldn’t give him the slightest acknowledgment of any mutual feelings, because despite his vows of everlasting loyalty and honesty, he didn’t mention marriage at all, even though he was completely in control of his actions. This raised doubts in her mind, which kept her resistant to his advances. Yet, what her reason tried to hide was revealed in her eyes, which, despite all her efforts, showed warmth and affection. Her own self-assurance made her think that his silence on that matter was due to his emotional turmoil and convinced her that he could have nothing but honorable intentions toward her.
The insidious lover exulted in the tenderness of her looks, from which he presaged a complete victory; but, that he might not overshoot himself by his own precipitation, he would not run the risk of declaring himself, until her heart should be so far entangled within his snares, as that neither the suggestions of honour, prudence, nor pride, should be able to disengage it. Armed with this resolution, he restrained the impatience of his temper within the limits of the most delicate deportment. After having solicited and obtained permission to attend her to the next opera, he took her by the hand, and, pressing it to his lips, in the most respectful manner, went away, leaving her in a most whimsical state of suspense, chequered with an interesting vicissitude of hope and fear. On the appointed day, he appeared again about five o'clock in the afternoon, and found her native charms so much improved by the advantages of dress, that he was transported with admiration and delight; and, while he conducted her to the Haymarket, could scarce bridle the impetuosity of his passion, so as to observe the forbearing maxims he had adopted. When she entered the pit, he had abundance of food for the gratification of his vanity; for, in a moment, she eclipsed all the female part of the audience; each individual allowing in her own heart that the stranger was by far the handsomest woman there present, except herself.
The sneaky lover reveled in the softness of her looks, which made him confident of his success; however, to avoid rushing things, he decided not to confess his feelings until her heart was tangled enough in his web that honor, caution, or pride couldn’t pull her away. With this plan in mind, he kept his impatience in check and behaved with the utmost grace. After asking for and getting permission to take her to the next opera, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips in a respectful way before leaving her in a curious state of suspense, filled with a mix of hope and fear. On the day of the performance, he showed up around five in the afternoon and found her natural beauty dramatically enhanced by her outfit, which left him in awe. As they walked to the Haymarket, he could hardly contain his passion, struggling to stick to the restrained approach he had planned. When she entered the pit, she instantly overshadowed all the other women in the audience; each one secretly admitted to herself that the stranger was by far the prettiest woman there, except for her.
Here it was that our hero enjoyed a double triumph; he was vain of this opportunity to enhance his reputation for gallantry among the ladies of fashion who knew him, and proud of an occasion to display his quality acquaintance to Emilia, that she might entertain the greater idea of the conquest she had made, and pay the more deference to his importance in the sequel of his addresses. That he might profit as much as possible by this situation, he went up and accosted every person in the pit, with whom he ever had least communication, whispered and laughed with an affected air of familiarity, and even bowed at a distance to some of the nobility, on the slender foundation of having stood near them at court, or presented them with a pinch of rappee at White's chocolate-house.
Here, our hero experienced a double victory; he was proud of the chance to boost his reputation for charm among the fashionable ladies who knew him, and he was pleased to have an opportunity to showcase his high-profile connections to Emilia, so she would have an even greater appreciation for the achievement she had made and show more respect for his significance in his future advances. To make the most of this situation, he approached and chatted with everyone in the audience with whom he had ever had even the slightest interaction, whispering and laughing with an exaggerated sense of familiarity, and he even bowed from a distance to some nobles, based solely on the fact that he had been near them at court or had offered them a pinch of rappee at White's chocolate house.
This ridiculous ostentation, though now practised with a view of promoting his design, was a weakness that, in some degree, infected the whole of his behaviour; for nothing gave him so much joy in conversation, as an opportunity of giving the company to understand how well he was with persons of distinguished rank and character. He would often, for example, observe, as it were occasionally, that the Duke of G— was one of the best-natured men in the world, and illustrate this assertion by some instance of his affability, in which he himself was concerned. Then, by an abrupt transition, he would repeat some repartee of Lady T—, and mention a certain bon mot of the Earl of C—, which was uttered in his hearing.
This ridiculous showiness, although now done to promote his agenda, was a weakness that affected his entire behavior to some extent; nothing brought him more joy in conversation than the chance to let everyone know how well he got along with people of high status and reputation. He would often casually mention, for instance, that the Duke of G— was one of the kindest people in the world, illustrating this claim with an example of his friendliness, in which he was involved. Then, without any warning, he would recount a witty remark from Lady T— and bring up a certain clever comment from the Earl of C—, which he heard himself.
Abundance of young men in this manner make free with the names, though they have never had access to the persons of the nobility; but this was not the case with Peregrine, who, in consideration of his appearance and supposed fortune, together with the advantage of his introduction, was, by this time, freely admitted to the tables of the great.
An abundance of young men often throw around names, even though they’ve never met any nobles. But that wasn't true for Peregrine, who, thanks to his looks and rumored wealth, along with his connections, was now welcomed at the tables of the elite.
In his return with Emilia from the opera, though he still maintained the most scrupulous decorum in his behaviour, he plied her with the most passionate expressions of love, squeezed her hand with great fervency, protested that his whole soul was engrossed by her idea, and that he could not exist independent of her favour. Pleased as she was with his warm and pathetic addresses, together with the respectful manner of his making love, she yet had prudence and resolution sufficient to contain her tenderness, which was ready to run over; being fortified against his arts, by reflecting, that, if his aim was honourable, it was now his business to declare it. On this consideration, she refused to make any serious reply to his earnest expostulations, but affected to receive them as the undetermined effusions of gallantry and good breeding.
On his way back from the opera with Emilia, even though he kept his behavior very proper, he showered her with passionate declarations of love, held her hand tightly, insisted that she consumed his every thought, and claimed he couldn’t live without her approval. While she appreciated his heartfelt and emotional words, along with the respectful way he expressed his feelings, she also had the wisdom and determination to keep her emotions in check, aware that if his intentions were genuine, he should be the one to express them clearly. With this in mind, she chose not to give any serious responses to his heartfelt pleas, instead pretending to take them as mere expressions of charm and courtesy.
This fictitious gaiety and good-humour, though it baffled his hope of extorting from her an acknowledgment of which he might have taken immediate advantage, nevertheless encouraged him to observe, as the chariot passed along the Strand, that the night was far advanced; that supper would certainly be over before they could reach her uncle's house; and to propose that he should wait upon her to some place, where they might be accommodated with a slight refreshment. She was offended at the freedom of this proposal, which, however, she treated as a joke, thanking him for his courteous offer, and assuring him, that when she should be disposed for a tavern treat, he alone would have the honour of bestowing it.
This made-up cheerfulness and friendliness, while it frustrated his hopes of getting her to admit something he could use right away, still prompted him to notice, as the carriage moved down the Strand, that it was getting late; that supper would definitely be over by the time they got to her uncle's house; and to suggest that he accompany her somewhere they could grab a quick bite. She took offense at the boldness of this suggestion, which she nonetheless treated as a joke, thanking him for his polite offer and assuring him that when she ever felt like going out for a meal, he would be the only one honored with the chance to treat her.
Her kinsman being engaged with company abroad, and her aunt retired to rest, he had the good fortune to enjoy a tete-a-tete with her during a whole hour, which he employed with such consummate skill, that her caution was almost overcome. He not only assailed her with the artillery of sighs, vows, prayers, and tears, but even pawned his honour in behalf of his love. He swore, with many imprecations, that although her heart was surrendered to him at discretion, there was a principle within him, which would never allow him to injure such innocence and beauty; and the transports of his passion had, upon this occasion so far overshot his purpose, that if she had demanded an explanation while he was thus agitated, he would have engaged himself to her wish by such ties as he could not break with any regard to his reputation. But from such expostulation she was deterred, partly by pride, and partly by the dread of finding herself mistaken in such an interesting conjecture. She therefore enjoyed the present flattering appearance of her fate, was prevailed upon to accept the jewels which he purchased with part of his winning at Bath, and, with the most enchanting condescension, submitted to a warm embrace when he took his leave, after having obtained permission to visit her as often as his inclination and convenience would permit.
Her relative was busy with company outside, and her aunt had gone to bed, giving him the great luck to spend a whole hour alone with her. He used that time with such skill that her defenses almost fell. He not only bombarded her with sighs, promises, pleas, and tears but even risked his honor for his love. He swore, with many curses, that even though her heart was completely given to him, there was a principle within him that would never let him hurt such innocence and beauty. His fervor had reached such a level that if she had asked for clarity while he was so worked up, he would have committed to her in ways he couldn’t break without harming his reputation. But she held back from asking, partly due to pride and partly from the fear of being wrong about such an important possibility. So, she embraced the flattering circumstances of her fate, accepted the jewelry he bought with part of his winnings in Bath, and graciously allowed him a warm hug when he left, after getting permission to visit her as often as he liked.
In his return to his own lodgings, he was buoyed up with his success to an extravagance of hope, already congratulated himself upon his triumph over Emilia's virtue, and began to project future conquests among the most dignified characters of the female sex. But his attention was not at all dissipated by these vain reflections; he resolved to concentrate the whole exertion of his soul upon the execution of his present plan, desisted, in the meantime, from all other schemes of pleasure, interest, and ambition, and took lodgings in the city, for the more commodious accomplishment of his purpose. While our lover's imagination was thus agreeably regaled, his mistress did not enjoy her expectations without the intervention of doubts and anxiety. His silence, touching the final aim of his addresses, was a mystery on which she was afraid of exercising her sagacity; and her uncle tormented her with inquiries into the circumstances of Peregrine's professions and deportment. Rather than give this relation the least cause for suspicion, which must have cut off all intercourse betwixt her and her admirer, she said everything which she thought would satisfy his care and concern for her welfare; and, in consequence of such representation, she enjoyed, without reserve, the company of our adventurer, who prosecuted his plan with surprising eagerness and perseverance.
On his way back to his place, he felt lifted by his success, overflowing with hope, and already patting himself on the back for having outsmarted Emilia's virtue. He started thinking about future conquests among the most respectable women. However, he didn’t let these unproductive thoughts distract him; he focused all his energy on carrying out his current plan, setting aside any other pursuits of pleasure, ambition, or interest. He rented a place in the city to make his efforts easier. While he was lost in pleasant daydreams, his mistress was not enjoying her expectations without doubts and worries. His silence about the ultimate goal of his affections left her puzzled, and her uncle kept nagging her about Peregrine's intentions and behavior. To avoid giving her uncle any reason for suspicion, which would have ruined her relationship with her admirer, she said everything she thought would ease his concerns for her well-being. As a result, she was able to enjoy the company of our adventurer, who pursued his plan with remarkable enthusiasm and determination.
CHAPTER LXXVI.
He prevails upon Emilia to accompany him to a Masquerade, makes a treacherous Attempt upon her Affection, and meets with a deserved Repulse.
He persuades Emilia to go with him to a Masquerade, makes a sneaky attempt to win her affection, and faces a well-deserved rejection.
Scarce a night elapsed in which he did not conduct her to some public entertainment. When, by the dint of his insidious carriage, he thought himself in full possession of her confidence and affection, he lay in wait for an opportunity; and, hearing her observe in conversation, that she had never been at a masquerade, begged leave to attend her to the next ball; at the same time extending his invitation to the young lady in whose company he had found her at the play, she being present when this subject of discourse was introduced. He had flattered himself, that this gentlewoman would decline the proposal, as she was a person seemingly of a demure disposition, who had been born and bred in the city, where such diversions are looked upon as scenes of lewdness and debauchery. For once, however, he reckoned without his host; curiosity is as prevalent in the city as at the court end of the town. Emilia no sooner signified her assent to his proposal, than her friend, with an air of satisfaction, agreed to make one of the party; and he was obliged to thank her for that complaisance, which laid him under infinite mortification. He set his genius at work to invent some scheme for preventing her unseasonable intrusion. Had an opportunity offered, he would have acted as her physician, and administered a medicine that would have laid her under the necessity of staying at home. But his acquaintance with her being too slight to furnish him with the means of executing this expedient, he devised another, which was practised with all imaginable success. Understanding that her grandmother had left her a sum of money independent of her parents, he conveyed a letter to her mother, intimating, that her daughter, on pretence of going to the masquerade, intended to bestow herself in marriage to a certain person, and that in a few days she would be informed of the circumstances of the whole intrigue, provided she would keep this information secret, and contrive some excuse for detaining the young lady at home, without giving her cause to believe she was apprised of her intention. This billet, subscribed “Your well-wisher, and unknown humble servant,” had the desired effect upon the careful matron, who, on the ball day, feigned herself so extremely ill, that Miss could not with any decency quit her mamma's apartment; and therefore sent her apology to Emilia in the afternoon, immediately after the arrival of Peregrine, who pretended to be very much afflicted with the disappointment, while his heart throbbed with a transport of joy.
Not a night went by without him taking her to some public event. When he felt he had won her trust and affection through his sly behavior, he waited for a chance to pounce. He heard her mention in conversation that she had never been to a masquerade, so he asked if he could take her to the next ball. He also invited the young lady who had been with her at the play, as she was there when this topic came up. He thought the young woman would turn him down, as she seemed quite reserved and was raised in the city, where such events were seen as immoral and scandalous. For once, he underestimated her; curiosity was just as strong in the city as it was in the more fashionable areas. As soon as Emilia expressed her agreement, her friend happily joined in, and he had to thank her for her kindness, which caused him a lot of embarrassment. He started brainstorming ways to prevent her from crashing their plans. If he had the chance, he would have acted like her doctor and given her something that would keep her at home. But since he didn’t know her well enough to pull that off, he came up with another plan that worked surprisingly well. Knowing that her grandmother had left her some money that wouldn’t be controlled by her parents, he sent a letter to her mother, suggesting that her daughter planned to marry someone under the pretense of going to the masquerade. He promised her that she would find out all the details soon, as long as she kept this information confidential and found a good reason to keep the young lady at home without letting her know that she was aware of her plans. This letter, signed “Your well-wisher, and unknown humble servant,” had the intended effect on the concerned mother, who, on the day of the ball, pretended to be so ill that her daughter couldn’t leave her room with any decency. As a result, she sent her apologies to Emilia that afternoon, right after Peregrine arrived, who feigned great sorrow over the disappointment while his heart raced with joy.
About ten o'clock the lovers set out for the Haymarket, he being dressed in the habit of Pantaloon, and she in that of Columbine; and they had scarce entered the house when the music struck up, the curtain was withdrawn, and the whole scene displayed at once, to the admiration of Emilia, whose expectation was infinitely surpassed by this exhibition. Our gallant having conducted her through all the different apartments, and described the economy of the place, led her into the circle, and, in their turn, they danced several minuets; then going to the sideboard, he prevailed upon her to eat some sweetmeats and drink a glass of champagne. After a second review of the company, they engaged in country dances, at which exercise they continued until our adventurer concluded that his partner's blood was sufficiently warm for the prosecution of his design. On this supposition, which was built upon her declaring that she was thirsty and fatigued, he persuaded her to take a little refreshment and repose; and, for that purpose, handed her downstairs into the eating-room, where, having seated her on the floor, he presented her with a glass of wine and water; and, as she complained of being faint, enriched the draught with some drops of a certain elixir, which he recommended as a most excellent restorative, though it was no other than a stimulating tincture, which he had treacherously provided for the occasion. Having swallowed this potion, by which her spirits were manifestly exhilarated, she ate a slice of ham, with the wing of a cold pullet, and concluded the meal with a glass of burgundy, which she drank at the earnest entreaty of her admirer. These extraordinary cordials co-operating with the ferment of her blood, which was heated by violent motion, could not fail to affect the constitution of a delicate young creature, who was naturally sprightly and volatile. Her eyes began to sparkle with unusual fire and vivacity, a thousand brilliant sallies of wit escaped her, and every mask that accosted her underwent some smarting repartee.
About ten o'clock, the couple set out for the Haymarket, with him dressed as Pantaloon and her in the outfit of Columbine. They had barely walked into the venue when the music started, the curtain lifted, and the entire scene was revealed, delighting Emilia, whose expectations were greatly exceeded by the show. Our hero guided her through all the different rooms, explaining how everything worked, then led her into the dance area, where they took turns dancing several minuets. Afterward, they went to the sideboard, and he convinced her to have some sweets and a glass of champagne. After checking out the crowd again, they joined in some country dances, which they enjoyed until our adventurer figured his partner was warmed up enough for his plans. Thinking this based on her saying she felt thirsty and tired, he persuaded her to take a break and grab a snack; for this, he escorted her downstairs to the eating room. Once there, he sat her on the floor and offered her a glass of wine and water; when she complained of feeling faint, he added a few drops of a certain elixir, which he claimed was a great restorative, although it was really just a stimulating tincture that he had secretly prepared for the occasion. After she drank this potion, which clearly boosted her spirits, she had a slice of ham and some cold chicken, finishing her meal with a glass of burgundy, which she drank at her admirer’s urging. These strong drinks, combined with her heated state from dancing, naturally affected the delicate young woman, who was already lively and playful. Her eyes began to sparkle with unusual energy and enthusiasm, clever quips spilled from her mouth, and every masked figure that approached her was met with witty comebacks.
Peregrine, overjoyed at the success of his administration, proposed that they should resume their places at the country dances, with a view to promote and assist the efficacy of his elixir; and, when he thought her disposition was properly adapted for the theme, began to ply her with all the elocution of love. In order to elevate his own spirits to that pitch of resolution which his scheme required, he drank two whole bottles of burgundy, which inflamed his passion to such a degree, that he found himself capable of undertaking and perpetrating any scheme for the gratification of his desire.
Peregrine, thrilled with how well his administration was going, suggested they get back to the country dances to help promote his elixir. When he felt she was in the right mood, he started to charm her with all the sweet talk of love. To boost his own confidence to the level he needed for his plans, he drank two full bottles of burgundy, which ignited his passion to the point where he felt ready to take on any scheme to satisfy his desires.
Emilia, warmed by so many concurring incentives, in favour of the man she loved, abated considerably of her wonted reserve, listened to his protestations with undissembled pleasure, and, in the confidence of her satisfaction, even owned him absolute master of her affections. Ravished with this confession, he now deemed himself on the brink of reaping the delicious fruits of his art and assiduity; and the morning being already pretty far advanced, assented with rapture to the first proposal she made of retiring to her lodgings. The blinds of the chariot being pulled up, he took advantage of the favourable situation of her thoughts; and, on pretence of being whimsical, in consequence of the wine he had swallowed, clasped her in his arms, and imprinted a thousand kisses on her pouting lips, a freedom which she pardoned as the privilege of intoxication. While he thus indulged himself with impunity, the carriage halted, and Pipes opening the door, his master handed her into the passage, before she perceived that it was not her uncle's house at which they had alighted.
Emilia, encouraged by so many reasons to support the man she loved, let go of her usual shyness, listened to his declarations with genuine happiness, and, feeling satisfied, even admitted that he was the complete master of her heart. Overjoyed by this revelation, he felt he was on the verge of enjoying the sweet rewards of his charm and persistence; and since the morning was already well underway, he eagerly agreed to her first suggestion of going back to her place. With the blinds of the carriage pulled up, he seized the opportunity presented by her positive feelings; pretending to be playful due to the wine he had drunk, he pulled her into his arms and showered her with kisses on her soft lips, a boldness she forgave as a side effect of the drinking. While he indulged himself without consequences, the carriage came to a stop, and when Pipes opened the door, his master helped her out, not realizing at first that they hadn’t arrived at her uncle’s house.
Alarmed at this discovery, she, with some confusion, desired to know his reason for conducting her to a strange place at these hours. But he made no reply, until he had led her into an apartment, when he gave her to understand, that, as her uncle's family must be disturbed by her going thither so late in the night, and the streets near Temple-bar were infested by a multitude of robbers and cut-throats, he had ordered his coachman to halt at this house, which was kept by a relation of his, a mighty good sort of a gentlewoman, who would be proud of an opportunity to accommodate a person for whom he was known to entertain such tenderness and esteem.
Alarmed by this discovery, she, feeling a bit confused, wanted to know why he was taking her to a strange place at this hour. But he didn’t answer her until they reached an apartment, where he explained that since her uncle's family would be worried about her being out so late at night, and because the streets near Temple Bar were filled with robbers and thugs, he told his coachman to stop at this house, which was run by a relative of his—a really nice lady who would be happy to help someone he cared for so much.
Emilia had too much penetration to be imposed upon by this plausible pretext. In spite of her partiality for Peregrine, which had never been inflamed to such a pitch of complacency before, she comprehended his whole plan in a twinkling. Though her blood boiled with indignation, she thanked him with an affected air of serenity for his kind concern, and expressed her obligation to his cousin; but, at the same time, insisted upon going home, lest her absence should terrify her uncle and aunt, who, she knew, would not retire to rest till her return.
Emilia was too perceptive to be fooled by this believable excuse. Despite her growing affection for Peregrine, which had never reached such a level of self-satisfaction before, she quickly understood his entire plan. Even though she was boiling with anger, she thanked him with a forced calmness for his thoughtful concern and expressed her gratitude to his cousin. However, at the same time, she insisted on going home, fearing that her uncle and aunt would be worried if she didn't return, knowing they wouldn’t go to bed until she was back.
He urged her, with a thousand remonstrances, to consult her own ease and safety, promising to send Pipes into the city, for the satisfaction of her relations. But, finding her obstinately deaf to his entreaties, he assured her, that he would, in a few minutes, comply with her request; and, in the meantime, begged she would fortify herself against the cold with a cordial, which he poured out in her presence, and which, now that her suspicion was aroused, she refused to taste, notwithstanding all his importunities. He then fell on his knees before her, and the tears gushing from his eyes, swore that his passion was wound up to such a pitch of impatience, that he could no longer live upon the unsubstantial food of expectation; and that, if she would not vouchsafe to crown his happiness, he would forthwith sacrifice himself to her disdain. Such an abrupt address, accompanied with all the symptoms of frantic agitation, could not fail to perplex and affright the gentle Emilia, who, after some recollection, replied with a resolute tone, that she could not see what reason he had to complain of her reserve, which she was not at liberty to lay entirely aside, until he should have avowed his intentions in form, and obtained the sanction of those whom it was her duty to obey. “Divine creature!” cried he, seizing her hand, and pressing it to his lips, “it is from you alone I hope for that condescension, which would overwhelm me with the transports of celestial bliss. The sentiments of parents are sordid, silly, and confined. I mean not then to subject my passion to such low restrictions as were calculated for the purposes of common life. My love is too delicate and refined to wear those vulgar fetters, which serve only to destroy the merit of voluntary affection, and to upbraid a man incessantly with the articles of compulsion, under which he lies. My dear angel! spare me the mortification of being compelled to love you, and reign sole empress of my heart and fortune. I will not affront you so much as to talk of settlements; my all is at your disposal. In this pocket-book are notes to the amount of two thousand pounds; do me the pleasure to accept of them; to-morrow I will lay ten thousand more in your lap. In a word, you shall be mistress of my whole estate, and I shall think myself happy in living dependent on your bounty!”
He urged her, with countless pleas, to think about her own comfort and safety, promising to send Pipes into the city for the sake of her family. But, finding her stubbornly ignoring his requests, he assured her that he would, in a few minutes, fulfill her wish; and in the meantime, he asked her to protect herself against the cold with a drink, which he poured out in front of her, but now that she was suspicious, she refused to taste it despite all his insistence. He then knelt before her, tears streaming down his face, swearing that his passion had reached such a level of impatience that he could no longer live on the empty promise of hope; and that if she didn't agree to make him happy, he would immediately sacrifice himself to her indifference. Such a sudden declaration, filled with all the signs of desperate agitation, couldn't help but confuse and frighten the gentle Emilia, who, after taking a moment to gather herself, replied firmly that she didn't see why he had any reason to complain about her distance, which she couldn't completely abandon until he stated his intentions clearly and got the approval of those she was obligated to obey. “Divine creature!” he exclaimed, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips, “it is from you alone that I hope for that kindness that would fill me with the joy of pure happiness. Parents’ opinions are narrow-minded and trivial. I don’t intend to limit my love to such mundane restrictions meant for average life. My love is too delicate and refined to be trapped by those common chains, which only serve to diminish the value of true affection and constantly remind a man of the burdens of obligation. My dear angel! spare me the humiliation of being forced to love you, and reign as the sole queen of my heart and fortune. I won't insult you by discussing financial arrangements; everything I have is yours. In this wallet are notes worth two thousand pounds; please accept them; tomorrow I will add ten thousand more to your lap. In short, you will have control over my entire estate, and I will consider myself lucky to live at your mercy!”
Heavens! what were the emotions of the virtuous, the sensible, the delicate, the tender Emilia's heart, when she heard this insolent declaration from the mouth of a man whom she had honoured with her affection and esteem! It was not simply horror, grief, or indignation, that she felt, in consequence of this unworthy treatment, but the united pangs of all together, which produced a sort of hysteric laughter, while she told him that she could not help admiring his generosity.
Heavens! What were the feelings of the virtuous, sensible, delicate, and tender Emilia when she heard this arrogant statement from a man she had held in affection and respect? It wasn’t just horror, sadness, or anger that she experienced due to this disrespectful treatment, but the combined pain of all these emotions, which led her to have a sort of hysterical laughter as she told him that she couldn’t help but admire his generosity.
Deceived by this convulsion, and the ironical compliment that attended it, the lover thought he had already made great progress in his operations, and that it was now his business to storm the fort by a vigorous assault, that he might spare her the confusion of yielding without resistance. Possessed by this vain suggestion, he started up, and, folding her in his arms, began to obey the furious dictates of his unruly and ungenerous desire. With an air of cool determination, she demanded a parley; and when, upon her repeated request, he granted it, addressed herself to him in these words, while her eyes gleamed with all the dignity of the most awful resentment:—
Deceived by this sudden outburst and the sarcastic praise that came with it, the lover believed he had already made significant progress in his efforts. He thought it was time to take the fort by force, wanting to spare her the awkwardness of giving in without a fight. Fueled by this foolish idea, he jumped up, wrapped her in his arms, and started to act on his intense and selfish desire. With a calm yet determined expression, she called for a pause; and when he finally agreed after several requests, she addressed him with these words, her eyes shining with all the authority of deep anger:—
“Sir, I scorn to upbraid you with a repetition of your former vows and protestations, nor will I recapitulate the little arts you have practised to ensnare my heart; because, though by dint of the most perfidious dissimulation you have found means to deceive my opinion, your utmost efforts have never been able to lull the vigilance of my conduct, or to engage my affection beyond the power of discarding you without a tear, whenever my honour should demand such a sacrifice. Sir, you are unworthy of my concern or regret, and the sigh that now struggles from my breast is the result of sorrow, for my own want of discernment. As for your present attempt upon my chastity, I despise your power, as I detest your intention. Though, under the mask of the most delicate respect, you have decoyed me from the immediate protection of my friends, and contrived other impious stratagems to ruin my peace and reputation, I confide too much in my own innocence, and the authority of the law, to admit one thought of fear, much less to sink under the horror of this shocking situation, into which I have been seduced. Sir, your behaviour on this occasion is, in all respects, low and contemptible. For, ruffian as you are, you durst not harbour the thought of executing your execrable scheme, while you knew my brother was near enough to prevent or revenge the insult; so that you must not only be a treacherous villain, but also a most despicable coward.”
“Sir, I refuse to remind you of your previous promises and declarations, nor will I go over the little tricks you've used to win my heart; because, even though through the most deceitful behavior you've managed to fool me, your greatest efforts have never been able to silence my judgment, or to make me care for you enough that I couldn't walk away without a second thought, whenever my honor required such a choice. Sir, you are not worthy of my feelings or regrets, and the sigh escaping my chest comes from sorrow for my own lack of judgment. As for your current attempt to violate my purity, I reject your influence, just as I loathe your intentions. Although, behind the guise of the utmost respect, you've lured me away from my friends' protection and plotted other wicked schemes to destroy my peace and reputation, I trust too much in my own innocence and the law's authority to entertain any fear, let alone succumb to the dread of this awful situation into which I've been led. Sir, your behavior in this matter is utterly low and contemptible. For, as a brute, you wouldn't even dare to think about carrying out your vile plan while knowing my brother was close enough to prevent or avenge the affront; thus, you must be not only a treacherous villain but also a pathetic coward.”
Having expressed herself in this manner, with a most majestic severity of aspect, she opened the door, and walking down-stairs with surprising resolution, committed herself to the care of a watchman, who accommodated her with a hackney-chair, in which she was safely conveyed to her uncle's house.
Having expressed herself this way, with a strikingly serious demeanor, she opened the door and confidently walked down the stairs, entrusting herself to a watchman, who provided her with a hired carriage, in which she was safely taken to her uncle's house.
Meanwhile, the lover was so confounded and overawed by these cutting reproaches, and her animated behaviour, that all his resolution forsook him, and he found himself not only incapable of obstructing her retreat, but even of uttering one syllable to deprecate her wrath, or extenuate the guilt of his own conduct. The nature of his disappointment, and the keen remorse that seized him, when he reflected upon the dishonourable footing on which his character stood with Emilia, raised such perturbation in his mind, that his silence was succeeded by a violent fit of distraction, during which he raved like a bedlamite, and acted a thousand extravagancies, which convinced the people of the house, a certain bagnio, that he had actually lost his wits. Pipes, with great concern, adopted the same opinion; and, being assisted by the waiters, hindered him, by main force, from running out and pursuing the fair fugitive, whom, in his delirium, he alternately cursed and commended with horrid imprecations and lavish applause. His faithful valet, having waited two whole hours, in hopes of seeing this gust of passion overblown, and perceiving that the paroxysm seemed rather to increase, very prudently sent for a physician of his master's acquaintance, who, having considered the circumstances and symptoms of the disorder, directed that he should be plentifully blooded, without loss of time, and prescribed a draught to compose the tumult of his spirits. These orders being punctually performed, he grew more calm and tractable, recovered his reflection so far as to be ashamed of the ecstasy he had undergone, and suffered himself quietly to be undressed and put to bed, where the fatigue occasioned by his exercise at the masquerade co-operated with the present dissipation of his spirits to lull him into a profound sleep, which greatly tended to the preservation of his intellects. Not that he found himself in a state of perfect tranquility when he waked about noon. The remembrance of what had passed overwhelmed him with mortification. Emilia's invectives still sounded in his ears. And, while he deeply resented her disdain, he could not help admiring her spirit, and his heart did homage to her charms.
Meanwhile, the lover was so taken aback and overwhelmed by her harsh words and animated demeanor that he lost all his determination. He found himself not only unable to stop her from leaving but also incapable of saying a single word to calm her anger or justify his own actions. The depth of his disappointment and the intense guilt he felt when he thought about how dishonorably he was treated by Emilia caused such turmoil in his mind that his silence turned into a wild fit of distraction. He raved like a madman and acted out in a way that convinced everyone at the establishment, a certain bagnio, that he had truly lost his mind. Pipes, very concerned, shared this opinion, and with the help of the waiters, physically restrained him from rushing out to chase after the beautiful woman, whom, in his delirium, he alternately cursed and praised with terrible oaths and extravagant compliments. His loyal valet, having waited two full hours in hopes that this wave of passion would pass, and noticing that the fit seemed to be getting worse, wisely called for a doctor who knew his master. The doctor, after assessing the situation and symptoms, ordered that he should be bled immediately and prescribed a drink to calm his agitated mind. Once these instructions were properly carried out, he became calmer and more manageable, regained enough composure to feel embarrassed about the outburst he experienced, and allowed himself to be undressed and put to bed. The exhaustion from his activities at the masquerade, combined with the current relaxation of his mind, helped him fall into a deep sleep, which significantly aided in preserving his sanity. However, when he awoke around noon, he was not in a state of complete peace. The memories of what had occurred filled him with shame. Emilia's harsh words still echoed in his ears, and while he felt deeply hurt by her rejection, he couldn’t help but admire her spirit, and his heart still acknowledged her beauty.
CHAPTER LXXVII.
He endeavours to Reconcile himself to his Mistress, and Expostulates with the Uncle, who forbids him the House.
He tries to make amends with his girlfriend and argues with the uncle, who banishes him from the house.
In this state of division, he went home to his own lodgings in a chair; and while he deliberated with himself whether he should relinquish the pursuit, and endeavour to banish her idea from his breast, or go immediately and humble himself before his exasperated mistress, and offer his hand as an atonement for his crime, his servant put in his hand a packet, which had been delivered by a ticket porter at the door. He no sooner perceived that the superscription was in Emilia's handwriting, than he guessed the nature of the contents; and, opening the seal with disordered eagerness, found the jewels he had given to her enclosed in a billet, couched in these words:—
In this divided state, he returned home in a chair; and while he weighed his options between giving up the pursuit and trying to erase her from his mind, or going straight to his irritated mistress and offering his hand as a way to make amends for his mistake, his servant handed him a package that had been delivered by a courier at the door. As soon as he saw that the address was written in Emilia's handwriting, he guessed what it contained; and, opening the seal with anxious eagerness, he found the jewels he had given her enclosed in a note that read:—
“That I may have no cause to reproach myself with having
retained the least memorial of a wretch whom I equally
despise and abhor, I take this opportunity of restoring
these ineffectual instruments of his infamous design upon
the honour of
“Emilia.”
“So that I have no reason to feel guilty about keeping any reminder of a person I equally despise and loathe, I take this chance to return these useless tools of his disgraceful plot against the honor of
“Emilia.”His chagrin was so much galled and inflamed at the bitterness of this contemptuous message, that he gnawed his fingers till the blood ran over his nails, and even wept with vexation. Sometimes he vowed revenge against her haughty virtue, and reviled himself for his precipitate declaration, before his scheme was brought to maturity; then he would consider her behaviour with reverence and regard, and bow before the irresistible power of her attractions. In short, his breast was torn by conflicting passions: love, shame, and remorse, contended with vanity, ambition, and revenge; and the superiority was still doubtful when headstrong desire interposed, and decided in favour of an attempt towards a reconciliation with the offended fair.
He was so irritated and upset by the bitterness of this contemptuous message that he chewed his fingers until the blood ran over his nails and even cried out of frustration. Sometimes he swore he'd get back at her for her arrogant virtue and cursed himself for speaking out too soon before his plan was fully developed; then he’d think about her behavior with admiration and respect, and bow before the undeniable power of her charm. In short, his heart was torn by conflicting emotions: love, shame, and guilt battled against vanity, ambition, and a desire for revenge; and the outcome was still uncertain when his stubborn desire stepped in and pushed him to try to make amends with the offended lady.
Impelled by this motive, he set out in the afternoon for the house of her uncle, not without hopes of that tender enjoyment, which never fails to attend an accommodation betwixt two lovers of taste and sensibility. Though the consciousness of his trespass encumbered him with an air of awkward confusion, he was too confident of his own qualifications and address to despair of forgiveness; and, by that time he arrived at the citizen's gate, he had conned a very artful and pathetic harangue, which he proposed to utter in his own behalf, laying the blame of his conduct on the impetuosity of his passion, increased by the burgundy which he had too liberally drunk; but he did not meet with an opportunity to avail himself of this preparation. Emilia, suspecting that he would take some step of this kind to retrieve her favour, had gone abroad on pretence of visiting, after having signified to her kinsman her resolution to avoid the company of Peregrine, on account of some ambiguities which, she said, were last night remarkable in his demeanour at the masquerade. She chose to insinuate her suspicion in these hints, rather than give an explicit detail of the young man's dishonourable contrivance, which might have kindled the resentment of the family to some dangerous pitch of animosity and revenge.
Driven by this motivation, he headed out in the afternoon to her uncle's house, hoping for that sweet moment that always comes when two people with taste and understanding find common ground. Although the awareness of his mistake weighed on him and made him feel awkward, he was confident in his own charm and skills, so he didn't lose hope for forgiveness. By the time he reached the citizen's gate, he had prepared a clever and emotional speech to defend himself, attributing his actions to the overwhelming passion fueled by the burgundy he had drunk a little too much of. However, he never got the chance to deliver it. Emilia, anticipating that he would try to win her back, had gone out under the guise of visiting someone, after informing her relative of her decision to steer clear of Peregrine due to some questionable behavior she noticed the night before at the masquerade. She preferred to hint at her concerns rather than provide a detailed account of the young man's dishonorable schemes, which could have stirred her family’s anger into a dangerous level of hostility and revenge.
Our adventurer, finding himself baffled in his expectation of seeing her, inquired for the old gentleman, with whom he thought he had influence enough to make his apology good, in case he should find him prepossessed by the young lady's information. But here too he was disappointed, the uncle having gone to dine in the country, and his wife was indisposed; so that he had no pretext for staying in the house till the return of his charmer. Being, however, fruitful of expedients, he dismissed his chariot, and took possession of a room in a tavern, the windows of which fronted the merchant's gate; and there he proposed to watch until he should see her approach. This scheme he put in practice with indefatigable patience, though it was not attended with the expected success.
Our adventurer, feeling confused about not seeing her, asked about the old gentleman, thinking he could smooth things over with him if he found out the young lady had shared something negative. But he was let down again, as the uncle had gone out for dinner in the country, and his wife was feeling unwell; so he had no reason to stick around the house until his beloved returned. However, being resourceful, he sent his carriage away and rented a room in a tavern that had windows facing the merchant's gate; and there he planned to wait until he saw her arrive. He carried out this plan with persistent patience, even though it didn’t lead to the outcome he hoped for.
Emilia, whose caution was equally vigilant and commendable, foreseeing that she might be exposed to the fertility of his invention, came home by a private passage, and entered by a postern, which was altogether unknown to her admirer; and her uncle did not arrive until it was so late that he could not, with any decency, demand a conference.
Emilia, whose caution was both careful and admirable, anticipating that she might be at risk of his creative charm, took a private route home and entered through a hidden door that her admirer didn’t know about; her uncle arrived so late that he couldn’t, without seeming rude, ask for a meeting.
Next morning, he did not fail to present himself at the door, and his mistress being denied by her own express direction, insisted upon seeing the master of the house, who received him with such coldness of civility, as plainly gave him to understand that he was acquainted with the displeasure of his niece. He, therefore, with an air of candour, told the citizen, he could easily perceive by his behaviour that he was the confidant of Miss Emily, of whom he was come to ask pardon for the offence he had given; and did not doubt, if he could be admitted to her presence, that he should be able to convince her that he had not erred intentionally, or at least propose such reparation as would effectually atone for his fault.
The next morning, he made sure to show up at the door, and since his mistress had specifically instructed that she was not to be disturbed, he insisted on speaking to the master of the house. The master greeted him with a cold politeness that made it clear he was aware of his niece's displeasure. So, with a straightforward demeanor, he told the man that he could tell from his demeanor that he was in on Miss Emily’s secrets, and he had come to ask for forgiveness for the offense he had caused. He was confident that if he could see her, he would be able to prove that he hadn’t acted out of malice, or at the very least, he would propose a solution that would make up for his mistake.
To this remonstrance the merchant, without any ceremony or circumlocution, answered, that though he was ignorant of the nature of his offence, he was very certain, that it must have been something very flagrant that could irritate his niece to such a degree, against a person for whom she had formerly a most particular regard. He owned, she had declared her intention to renounce his acquaintance for ever, and, doubtless, she had good reason for so doing; neither would he undertake to promote an accommodation, unless he would give him full power to treat on the score of matrimony, which he supposed would be the only means of evincing his own sincerity, and obtaining Emilia's forgiveness. Peregrine's pride was kindled by this blunt declaration, which he could not help considering as the result of a scheme concerted betwixt the young lady and her uncle, in order to take advantage of his heat. He therefore replied, with manifest signs of disgust, that he did not apprehend there was any occasion for a mediator to reconcile the difference betwixt Emilia and him; and that all he desired was an opportunity of pleading in his own behalf. The citizen frankly told him, that, as his niece had expressed an earnest desire of avoiding his company, he would not put the least constraint upon her inclination; and, in the meantime, gave him to know, that he was particularly engaged. Our hero, glowing with indignation at this supercilious treatment, “I was in the wrong,” said he, “to look for good manners so far on this side of Temple-bar; but you must give me leave to tell you, sir, that unless I am favoured with an interview with Miss Gauntlet, I shall conclude that you have actually laid a constraint upon her inclination, for some sinister purposes of your own.”—“Sir,” replied the old gentleman, “you are welcome to make what conclusions shall seem good unto your own imagination; but pray be so good as to allow me the privilege of being master in my own house.” So saying, he very complaisantly showed him to the door; and our lover being diffident of his own temper, as well as afraid of being used with greater indignity, in a place where his personal prowess would only serve to heighten his disgrace, quitted the house in a transport of rage, which he could not wholly suppress, telling the landlord, that if his age did not protect him, he would have chastised him for his insolent behaviour.
To this complaint, the merchant replied, without any formalities or beating around the bush, that although he didn’t understand what he had done wrong, he was sure it must have been something very serious to upset his niece so much against someone she once cared about deeply. He admitted that she had said she intended to cut off all ties with him forever, and she likely had valid reasons for this; he wouldn’t try to mediate unless he was given full authority to discuss marriage, which he thought would be the only way to prove his sincerity and win back Emilia's forgiveness. Peregrine’s pride was stung by this blunt response, which he couldn’t help but see as a tactic agreed upon by the young lady and her uncle to exploit his anger. He replied, clearly annoyed, that he didn’t think a mediator was needed to resolve the issue between him and Emilia; all he wanted was a chance to defend himself. The merchant frankly told him that since his niece had expressed a strong desire to avoid him, he wouldn’t impose on her wishes and also informed him that he had other commitments at the moment. Filled with indignation at this condescending treatment, Peregrine said, “I was wrong to expect good manners this far from Temple Bar; but I must tell you, sir, that unless I am granted a meeting with Miss Gauntlet, I will assume that you are forcing her against her will for some selfish reasons of your own.” The old gentleman responded, “You are free to draw whatever conclusions suit your imagination; but please allow me to have control in my own house.” Saying this, he courteously showed Peregrine to the door. Feeling uncertain about his own temper and fearing he would be treated even worse in a place where showing his strength would only increase his humiliation, he left the house in a fit of rage that he could not completely contain, telling the landlord that if his age didn’t protect him, he would have punished him for his disrespectful behavior.
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
He projects a violent Scheme, in consequence of which he is involved in a most fatiguing Adventure, which greatly tends towards the Augmentation of his Chagrin.
He has a violent plan that leads him into a very exhausting adventure, which only adds to his frustration.
Thus debarred of personal communication with his mistress, he essayed to retrieve her good graces by the most submissive and pathetic letters, which he conveyed by divers artifices to her perusal; but, reaping no manner of benefit from these endeavours, his passion acquired a degree of impatience little inferior to downright frenzy; and he determined to run every risk of life, fortune, and reputation, rather than desist from his unjustifiable pursuit. Indeed, his resentment was now as deeply concerned as his love, and each of these passions equally turbulent and loud in demanding gratification. He kept sentinels continually in pay, to give him notice of her outgoings, in expectation of finding some opportunity to carry her off; but her circumspection entirely frustrated this design, for she suspected everything of that sort from a disposition like his, and regulated her motions accordingly.
Thus cut off from personal communication with his mistress, he tried to win back her affection with the most submissive and heartfelt letters, which he delivered through various means for her to read. However, getting no benefit from these attempts, his passion grew increasingly impatient, almost to the point of madness, and he decided to risk everything—his life, fortune, and reputation—rather than give up on his wrongful pursuit. In fact, his resentment was now as intense as his love, with both emotions equally demanding satisfaction. He constantly paid people to watch for her comings and goings, hoping to find a chance to abduct her; however, her caution completely thwarted this plan, as she suspected anything of that nature from someone like him and adjusted her actions accordingly.
Baffled by her prudence and penetration, he altered his plan. On pretence of being called to his country house by some affair of importance, he departed from London, and, taking lodgings at a farmer's house that stood near the road through which she must have necessarily passed in her return to her mother, concealed himself from all intercourse, except with his valet-de-chambre and Pipes, who had orders to scour the country, and reconnoitre every horse, coach, or carriage, that should appear on that highway, with a view of intercepting his Emilia in her passage.
Confused by her thoughtfulness and insight, he changed his plan. Under the pretense of being called to his country house for some important matter, he left London and rented a room at a farmer's house located near the road she would have to take on her way back to her mother. He kept to himself, only interacting with his valet and Pipes, who had instructions to search the area and watch for any horse, coach, or carriage that appeared on that highway, hoping to intercept Emilia on her journey.
He had waited in this ambuscade a whole week, when his valet gave him notice, that he and his fellow-scout had discovered a chaise-and-six, driving at full speed towards them; upon which they had flapped their hats over their eyes, so as they might not be known, in case they should be seen, and concealed themselves behind a hedge, from whence they could perceive in the carriage, as it passed, a young man plainly dressed, with a lady in a mask, of the exact size, shape, and air of Emilia; and that Pipes followed them at a distance, while he rode back to communicate this piece of intelligence.
He had been waiting in this ambush for an entire week when his servant informed him that he and his fellow scout had spotted a carriage being driven at full speed toward them. They quickly pulled their hats down to hide their faces in case they were seen and hid behind a hedge. From there, they could see a young man in plain clothes in the carriage, along with a woman in a mask who looked exactly like Emilia. Pipes was following them at a distance, riding back to share this news.
Peregrine would scarce allow him time to conclude his information. He ran down to the stable, where his horse was kept ready saddled for the purpose, and, never doubting that the lady in question was his mistress, attended by one of her uncle's clerks, mounted immediately, and rode full gallop after the chaise, which, when he had proceeded about two miles, he understood from Pipes, had put up at a neighbouring inn. Though his inclination prompted him to enter her apartment without further delay, he suffered himself to be dissuaded from taking such a precipitate step, by his privy counsellor, who observed, that it would be impracticable to execute his purpose of conveying her against her will from a public inn, that stood in the midst of a populous village, which would infallibly rise in her defence. He advised him therefore to be in wait for the chaise, in some remote and private part of the road, where they might accomplish their aim without difficulty or danger. In consequence of this admonition our adventurer ordered Pipes to reconnoitre the inn, that she might not escape another way, while he and the valet, in order to avoid being seen, took a circuit by an unfrequented path, and placed themselves in ambush, on a spot which they chose for the scene of their achievement. Here they tarried a full hour, without seeing the carriage, or hearing from their sentinel. So that the youth, unable to exert his patience one moment longer, left the foreigner in his station, and rode back to his faithful lacquey, who assured him, that the travellers had not yet hove up their anchor, or proceeded on their voyage.
Peregrine barely gave him enough time to finish his message. He rushed down to the stable, where his horse was already saddled and ready, and, convinced that the woman in question was his mistress, accompanied by one of her uncle's clerks, he immediately mounted and rode at full speed after the carriage, which he learned from Pipes had stopped at a nearby inn after traveling about two miles. Although he was eager to go into her room without any delay, he was talked out of such a rash move by his advisor, who pointed out that it would be impossible to take her against her will from a public inn situated in a busy village, where people would surely come to her aid. He suggested that Peregrine wait for the carriage in a secluded area of the road, where they could achieve their goal without complications or danger. Following this advice, our hero instructed Pipes to scout the inn to ensure she wouldn’t escape another way, while he and the valet took a less-traveled route to avoid being seen and hid in a spot they chose for their plan. They waited for a full hour without seeing the carriage or hearing from their lookout. Frustrated and unable to wait any longer, the young man left the foreigner behind and rode back to his loyal servant, who confirmed that the travelers hadn’t left yet or begun their journey.
Notwithstanding this information, Pickle began to entertain such alarming suspicions, that he could not refrain from advancing to the gate, and inquire for the company which had lately arrived in a chaise-and-six. The innkeeper, who was not at all pleased with the behaviour of those passengers, did not think proper to observe the instructions he had received: on the contrary, he plainly told him, that the chaise did not halt, but only entered at one door, and went out at the other, with a view to deceive those who pursued it, as he guessed from the words of the gentleman, who had earnestly desired that his route might be concealed from any person who should inquire about their motions. “As for my own peart, measter,” continued this charitable publican, “I believes as how they are no better than they should be, else they wouldn't be in such a deadly fear of being overtaken. Methinks, said I, when I saw them in such a woundy pother to be gone, oddsheartlikins! this must be some London 'prentice running away with his measter's daughter, as sure as I'm a living soul. But, be he who he will, sartain it is, a has nothing of the gentleman about en; for, thof a asked such a favour, a never once put hand in pocket, or said, 'Dog, will you drink?' Howsomever, that don't argufy in reverence of his being in a hurry; and a man may be sometimes a little too judgmatical in his conjectures.” In all probability, this loquacious landlord would have served the travellers effectually, had Peregrine heard him to an end; but this impetuous youth, far from listening to the sequel of his observations, interrupted him in the beginning of his career, by asking eagerly which road they followed; and, having received the innkeeper's directions, clapped spurs to his horse, commanding Pipes to make the valet acquainted with the course, that they might attend him with all imaginable despatch.
Despite this information, Pickle started to develop such troubling suspicions that he couldn't help but move toward the gate to ask about the group that had recently arrived in a fancy carriage. The innkeeper, clearly unhappy with the behavior of those passengers, didn't feel it appropriate to follow the orders he'd been given; instead, he bluntly told Pickle that the carriage didn't stop but simply entered through one door and exited through another, aiming to mislead anyone who might be following them. This was evident from the words of the gentleman who insisted that their route should remain hidden from anyone inquiring about their movements. “As for my part, sir,” continued the kind innkeeper, “I believe they're not up to any good, otherwise they wouldn't be in such a panic to be on their way. I thought to myself, when I saw them in such a rush, my goodness, this must be some apprentice from London running away with his master's daughter, as sure as I'm alive. But whoever he is, it's clear he doesn't have the manners of a gentleman; for even when asking for such a favor, he never once reached into his pocket or said, 'Hey, want to grab a drink?' Nevertheless, that doesn't imply anything about his hurry; a person can sometimes be a bit too judgmental in their assumptions.” Most likely, this talkative landlord would have given the travelers useful information if Peregrine had let him finish, but the impulsive young man, far from waiting to hear the rest of his comments, interrupted him right at the start by eagerly asking which way they had gone. After receiving the innkeeper's directions, he urged his horse into action, instructing Pipes to inform the valet of their route so they could catch up with him as quickly as possible.
By the publican's account of their conduct, his former opinion was fully confirmed. He plied his steed to the height of his mettle; and so much was his imagination engrossed by the prospect of having Emilia in his power, that he did not perceive the road on which he travelled was quite different from that which led to the habitation of Mrs. Gauntlet. The valet-de-chambre was an utter stranger to that part of the country; and, as for Mr. Pipes, such considerations were altogether foreign to the economy of his reflection.
By the innkeeper’s description of their behavior, his previous opinion was completely reinforced. He pushed his horse to its limits, and he was so consumed by the thought of having Emilia at his disposal that he didn’t realize the road he was on was completely different from the one that led to Mrs. Gauntlet’s home. The servant was a total stranger to that area, and as for Mr. Pipes, such concerns were totally outside the scope of his thinking.
Ten long miles had our hero rode, when his eyes were blessed with the sight of the chaise ascending an hill, at the distance of a good league; upon which he doubled his diligence in such a manner, that he gained upon the carriage every minute, and at length approached so near to it, that he could discern the lady and her conductor, with their heads thrust out at the windows, looking back, and speaking to the driver alternately, as if they earnestly besought him to augment the speed of his cattle.
Ten long miles our hero had ridden when he spotted the carriage climbing a hill about a mile away; he immediately picked up the pace, steadily getting closer to the carriage. Eventually, he got so close that he could see the lady and her driver with their heads sticking out of the windows, looking back and speaking to the driver in turns, as if urging him to make the horses go faster.
Being thus, as it were, in sight of port, while he crossed the road, his horse happened to plunge into a cart-rut with such violence, that he was thrown several yards over his head; and, the beast's shoulder being slipped by the fall, he found himself disabled from plucking the fruit, which was almost within his reach; for he had left his servants at a considerable distance behind him; and although they had been at his back, and supplied him with another horse, they were so indifferently mounted, that he could not reasonably expect to overtake the flyers, who profited so much by this disaster that the chaise vanished in a moment.
As he was getting close to the port, while crossing the road, his horse suddenly fell into a rut with such force that he was thrown several yards ahead. Since the horse slipped and hurt its shoulder, he couldn’t reach the fruit that was almost within his grasp. He had left his servants quite a distance behind him, and even though they had been following him and could have brought him another horse, theirs were so poorly suited that he couldn’t realistically expect to catch up with the faster ones, who benefited greatly from his misfortune, causing the carriage to disappear in an instant.
It may be easily conceived how a young man of his disposition passed his time, in this tantalizing situation. He ejaculated with great fervency; but his prayers were not the effects of resignation. He ran back on foot, with incredible speed, in order to meet his valet, whom he unhorsed in a twinkling, and, taking his seat, began to exercise his whip and spurs, after having ordered the Swiss to follow him on the other gelding, and committed the lame hunter to the care of Pipes.
It’s easy to imagine how a young man like him spent his time in this frustrating situation. He exclaimed passionately, but his prayers weren’t about accepting his fate. He quickly ran back on foot to catch up with his servant, who he easily knocked off his horse, then hopped on and started using his whip and spurs, after instructing the Swiss to follow him on the other horse and leaving the lame horse in Pipes’ care.
Matters being adjusted in this manner, our adventurer prosecuted the race with all his might; and, having made some progress, was informed by a countryman, that the chaise had struck off into another road, and, according to his judgment, was by that time about three miles ahead; though, in all probability, the horses would not be able to hold out much longer, because they seemed to be quite spent when they passed his door. Encouraged by this intimation, Peregrine pushed on with great alacrity, though he could not regain sight of the desired object, till the clouds of night began to deepen, and even then he enjoyed nothing more than a transient glimpse; for the carriage was no sooner seen, than shrouded again from his view. These vexatious circumstances animated his endeavours, while they irritated his chagrin. In short, he continued his pursuit, till the night was far advanced, and himself so uncertain about the object of his care, that he entered a solitary inn, with a view of obtaining some intelligence, when, to his infinite joy, he perceived the chaise standing by itself, and the horses panting in the yard.
With things sorted out this way, our adventurer raced ahead with all his might; and after making some progress, a local man informed him that the carriage had taken another road and was probably about three miles ahead. However, he also thought that the horses wouldn’t last much longer since they looked completely exhausted when they passed by. Encouraged by this news, Peregrine continued on energetically, but couldn’t spot the carriage again until the night began to set in. Even then, he only got a brief glimpse; as soon as he saw it, it was hidden from view again. These frustrating incidents drove him to keep trying, even as they added to his annoyance. In short, he continued his chase until late into the night, feeling increasingly unsure about what he was pursuing. He finally decided to stop at a lonely inn to gather some information, and to his immense joy, he spotted the carriage standing alone with the horses panting in the yard.
In full confidence of his having arrived at last at the goal of all his wishes, he alighted instantaneously, and, running up to the coachman, with a pistol in his hand, commanded him, in an imperious tone, to conduct him to the lady's chamber, on pain of death. The driver, affrighted at this menacing address, protested, with great humility, that he did not know whither his fare had retired; for that he himself was paid and dismissed from the service, because he would not undertake to drive them all night across the country without stopping to refresh his horses. But he promised to go in quest of the waiter, who would show him to their apartment. He was accordingly detached on that errand, while our hero stood sentinel at the gate, till the arrival of his valet-de-chambre, who, joining him by accident, before the coachman returned, relieved him in his watch; and then the young gentleman, exasperated at his messenger's delay, rushed, with fury in his eyes, from room to room, denouncing vengeance upon the whole family; but he did not meet with one living soul, until he entered the garret, where he found the landlord and his wife in bed. This chicken-hearted couple, by the light of a rush candle that burned on the hearth, seeing a stranger burst into the chamber, in such a terrible attitude, were seized with consternation; and, exalting their voices, in a most lamentable strain, begged, for the passion of Christ, that he would spare their lives, and take all they had.
Confident that he had finally reached the fulfillment of all his desires, he jumped down and ran up to the coachman, holding a pistol and commanding him in a forceful tone to take him to the lady's room, threatening death if he refused. The terrified driver, shaken by this threatening demand, humbly insisted that he didn’t know where his passenger had gone, explaining that he had been paid and dismissed because he wouldn't drive them all night across the countryside without stopping to rest his horses. However, he promised to find the waiter, who would show him to their room. He was promptly sent on that task while our hero stood guard at the gate until his valet accidentally joined him before the coachman returned. Frustrated by the delay, the young man stormed from room to room, vowing revenge on the entire family, but he found no one until he entered the attic, where he discovered the landlord and his wife in bed. This cowardly couple, startled by the sight of a stranger entering their room in such a frightening manner, were filled with panic; they cried out in a sorrowful wail, pleading for mercy in the name of Christ, begging him to spare their lives and take everything they owned instead.
Peregrine guessing, from this exclamation, and the circumstance of their being abed, that they mistook him for a robber, and were ignorant of that which he wanted to know, dispelled their terror, by making them acquainted with the cause of his visit, and desired the husband to get up with all possible despatch, in order to assist and attend him in his search.
Peregrine, sensing from their exclamation and the fact that they were in bed that they thought he was a robber and didn’t know what he needed, eased their fear by explaining the reason for his visit. He asked the husband to get up as quickly as possible to help him in his search.
Thus reinforced, he rummaged every corner of the inn, and at last, finding the hostler in the stable, was by him informed, to his unspeakable mortification, that the gentleman and lady who arrived in the chaise, had immediately hired post-horses for a certain village at the distance of fifteen miles, and departed without halting for the least refreshment. Our adventurer, mad with his disappointment, mounted his horse in an instant, and, with his attendant, took the same road, with full determination to die, rather than desist from the prosecution of his design. He had, by this time, rode upwards of thirty miles, since three o'clock in the afternoon; so that the horses were almost quite jaded, and travelled this stage so slowly, that it was morning before they reached the place of their destination, where, far from finding the fugitives, he understood that no such persons as he described had passed that way, and that, in all likelihood, they had taken a quite contrary direction, while in order to mislead him in his pursuit, they had amused the hostler with a false route. This conjecture was strengthened by his perceiving, now for the first time, that he had deviated a considerable way from the road, through which they must have journeyed, in order to arrive at the place of her mother's residence; and these suggestions utterly deprived him of the small remains of recollection which he had hitherto retained. His eyes rolled about, witnessing rage and distraction; he foamed at the mouth, stamped upon the ground with great violence, uttered incoherent imprecations against himself and all mankind, and would have sallied forth again, he knew not whither, upon the same horse, which he had already almost killed with fatigue, had not his confidant found means to quiet the tumult of his thoughts, and recall his reflection, by representing the condition of the poor animals, and advising him to hire fresh horses, and ride post across the country, to the village in the neighbourhood of Mrs. Gauntlet's habitation, where they should infallibly intercept the daughter, provided they could get the start of her upon the road.
Reinforced by his frustration, he searched every corner of the inn and finally found the stableman, who informed him, to his utter embarrassment, that the gentleman and lady who arrived in the carriage had immediately hired post-horses to a village fifteen miles away and left without taking a break. Our adventurer, furious with disappointment, quickly got on his horse and, along with his companion, took the same route, determined to go to any lengths rather than give up on his mission. By this time, he had ridden over thirty miles since three o'clock that afternoon; his horses were nearly exhausted, moving so slowly that it was morning by the time they reached their destination. However, far from finding the people he sought, he learned that no one matching their description had passed through, and it was likely they had gone in the opposite direction, distracting the stableman with false information to throw him off. This theory was reinforced when he realized, for the first time, that he had strayed quite a bit from the proper road they should have taken to reach her mother's house, and these thoughts completely shattered whatever small amount of composure he had left. His eyes darted around, reflecting his rage and turmoil; he foamed at the mouth, stomped angrily on the ground, shouted random curses at himself and the world, and would have charged off again, not knowing where, on the same horse he had nearly worn out, if his confidant hadn't found a way to calm his chaotic thoughts and bring him back to reason by pointing out the poor state of the animals, suggesting they hire fresh horses and ride straight to the village near Mrs. Gauntlet's home, where they would surely intercept the daughter if they could get ahead of her on the road.
Peregrine not only relished, but forthwith acted in conformity with this good counsel. His own horses were committed to the charge of the landlord, with directions for Pipes, in case he should come in quest of his master: and, a couple of stout geldings being prepared, he and his valet took the road again, steering their course according to the motions of the post-boy, who undertook to be their guide. They had almost finished the first stage, when they descried a post-chaise just halting at the inn where they proposed to change horses; upon which our adventurer, glowing with a most interesting presage, put his beast to the full speed, and approached near enough to distinguish, as the travellers quitted the carriage, that he had at last come up with the very individual persons whom he had pursued so long.
Peregrine not only appreciated the good advice but immediately acted on it. He left his horses with the landlord, instructing Pipes to look after them if he came searching for his master. With a couple of strong geldings ready, he and his valet got back on the road, following the post-boy who was their guide. They were almost done with the first leg of their journey when they spotted a post-chaise just stopping at the inn where they planned to change horses. Excited by a thrilling anticipation, Peregrine urged his horse to full speed and got close enough to see that, as the travelers got out of the carriage, he had finally caught up with the very people he had been chasing for so long.
Flushed with this discovery, he galloped into the yard so suddenly, that the lady and her conductor scarce had time to shut themselves up in a chamber, to which they retreated with great precipitation; so that the pursuer was now certain of having housed his prey. That he might, however, leave nothing to fortune, he placed himself upon the stair by which they had ascended to the apartment, and sent up his compliments to the young lady, desiring the favour of being admitted to her presence, otherwise he should be obliged to waive all ceremony, and take that liberty which she would not give. The servant, having conveyed his message through the keyhole, returned with an answer, importing that she would adhere to the resolution she had taken, and perish, rather than comply with his will. Our adventurer, without staying to make any rejoinder to this reply, ran upstairs, and, thundering at the door for entrance, was given to understand by the nymph's attendant, that a blunderbuss was ready primed for his reception, and that he would do well to spare him the necessity of shedding blood in defence of a person who had put herself under his protection. “All the laws of the land,” said he, “cannot now untie the knots by which we are bound together; and therefore I will guard her as my own property; so that you had better desist from your fruitless attempt, and thereby consult your own safety; for, by the God that made me! I will discharge my piece upon you, as soon as you set your nose within the door; and your blood be upon your own head.”
Flushed with this discovery, he rushed into the yard so suddenly that the lady and her escort barely had time to lock themselves in a room, which they retreated to in a hurry; thus, the pursuer was now sure he had trapped his prey. However, to ensure nothing was left to chance, he positioned himself on the stairs they had taken to the apartment and sent his greetings to the young lady, asking to be let into her presence, or else he would have to skip all niceties and take the liberty she refused to grant. The servant, after relaying his message through the keyhole, returned with a reply, stating that she would stick to her decision and rather die than give in to his wishes. Our adventurer, without taking time to respond to this answer, dashed upstairs and, banging on the door to be let in, was informed by the lady's attendant that a blunderbuss was ready for him, and it would be wise to avoid forcing a situation that could lead to violence against someone who had put herself under his protection. "All the laws of the land," he declared, "can't untie the bonds that tie us together; so I will protect her like my own possession. You’d be better off giving up your pointless attempt and thinking about your own safety, because, by the God who created me! I will shoot at you the moment you show your face inside that door; and your blood will be on your own hands."
These menaces, from a citizen's clerk, would have been sufficient motives for Pickle to storm the breach, although they had not been reinforced by that declaration, which informed him of Emilia's having bestowed herself in marriage upon such a contemptible rival. This sole consideration added wings to his impetuosity, and he applied his foot to the door with such irresistible force, as burst it open in an instant, entering at the same time with a pistol ready cocked in his hand. His antagonist, instead of firing his blunderbuss, when he saw him approach, started back with evident signs of surprise and consternation, exclaiming, “Lord Jesus! Sir, you are not the man! and, without doubt, are under some mistake with regard to us.” Before Peregrine had time to answer this salutation, the lady, hearing it, advanced to him, and, pulling off a mask, discovered a face which he had never seen before. The Gorgon's head, according to the fables of antiquity, never had a more instantaneous or petrifying effect, than that which this countenance produced upon the astonished youth. His eyes were fixed upon this unknown object, as if they had been attracted by the power of enchantment, his feet seemed riveted to the ground, and, after having stood motionless for the space of a few minutes, he dropped down in an apoplexy of disappointment and despair. The Swiss, who had followed him, seeing his master in this condition, lifted him up, and, laying him upon a bed in the next room, let him blood immediately, without hesitation, being always provided with a case of lancets, against all accidents on the road. To this foresight our hero, in all probability, was indebted for his life. By virtue of a very copious evacuation, he recovered the use of his senses; but the complication of fatigues and violent transports, which he had undergone, brewed up a dangerous fever in his blood; and, a physician being called from the next market-town, several days elapsed before he would answer for his life.
These threats from a clerk would have been enough for Pickle to charge in, even without the news that Emilia had married someone so unworthy. This realization fueled his anger, and he kicked the door open with such force that it broke apart, entering with a cocked pistol in hand. His opponent, instead of firing his blunderbuss when he saw him coming, stepped back in shock and fear, saying, “Lord Jesus! Sir, you’re not the one! You must be mistaken about us.” Before Peregrine could respond, the lady approached him, took off her mask, and revealed a face he had never seen before. The impact of her appearance was more stunning than a Gorgon's head from ancient tales; it left the astonished youth speechless. His eyes were glued to this unfamiliar face, as if under a spell, his feet felt stuck to the ground, and after standing still for a few minutes, he collapsed in a fit of disappointment and despair. The Swiss, who had followed him, saw his master in this state, picked him up, and laid him on a bed in the next room, immediately letting him bleed, having always carried a set of lancets for emergencies on the road. Thanks to this foresight, our hero likely owed his life. After a significant bloodletting, he regained his senses, but the combination of fatigue and intense emotions brewed a dangerous fever in his blood. A doctor was called from the nearby market town, and it took several days before he would assure them of his survival.
CHAPTER LXXIX.
Peregrine sends a Message to Mrs. Gauntlet, who rejects his Proposal—He repairs to the Garrison.
Peregrine sends a message to Mrs. Gauntlet, who turns down his proposal—He goes to the garrison.
At length, however, his constitution overcame his disease, though not before it had in a great measure tamed the fury of his disposition, and brought him to a serious consideration of his conduct. In this humiliation of his spirits, he reflected with shame and remorse upon his treachery to the fair, the innocent Emilia; he remembered his former sentiments in her favour, as well as the injunctions of his dying uncle; he recollected his intimacy with her brother, against which he had so basely sinned; and, revolving all the circumstances of her conduct, found it so commendable, spirited, and noble, that he deemed her an object of sufficient dignity to merit his honourable addresses, even though his duty had not been concerned in this decision. But, obligated as he was to make reparation to a worthy family, which he had so grossly injured, he thought he could not manifest his reformation too soon; and, whenever he found himself able to hold a pen, wrote a letter to Mrs. Gauntlet, wherein he acknowledged, with many expressions of sorrow and contrition, that he had acted a part altogether unbecoming a man of honour, and should never enjoy the least tranquility of mind, until he should have merited her forgiveness. He protested, that, although his happiness entirely depended upon the determination of Emilia, he would even renounce all hope of being blessed with her favour, if she could point out any other method of making reparation to that amiable young lady, but by laying his heart and fortune at her feet, and submitting himself to her pleasure during the remaining part of his life. He conjured her, therefore, in the most pathetic manner, to pardon him, in consideration of his sincere repentance, and to use her maternal influence with her daughter, so as that he might be permitted to wait upon her with a wedding ring, as soon as his health would allow him to undertake the journey.
Eventually, his health overcame his illness, but not before it had largely tamed his fiery temperament and forced him to seriously consider his behavior. In this humbling moment, he felt shame and remorse about his betrayal of the lovely, innocent Emilia. He recalled his previous feelings for her and the dying wishes of his uncle. He thought about his close relationship with her brother, which he had so disgracefully betrayed, and when he reflected on all of her actions, he found them commendable, brave, and noble. He decided that she was of such high character that she deserved his respectable proposal, even if duty hadn't compelled him to make this choice. Feeling obligated to make amends to a deserving family he had severely wronged, he believed he couldn't delay showing his transformation. Whenever he was able to write, he penned a letter to Mrs. Gauntlet, expressing deep sorrow and regret for behaving in a way unbefitting a man of honor, promising he wouldn't find peace of mind until he had earned her forgiveness. He insisted that, even though his happiness depended entirely on Emilia's decision, he would give up all hope of winning her affection if she could suggest any other way to make amends to that admirable young lady besides offering his heart and fortune at her feet and submitting to her will for the rest of his life. Therefore, he earnestly pleaded for her forgiveness, considering his genuine remorse, and asked her to use her maternal influence with her daughter so he could be allowed to visit her with a wedding ring as soon as his health permitted the journey.
This explanation being despatched by Pipes, who had, by this time, found his master, the young gentleman inquired about the couple whom he had so unfortunately pursued, and understood from his valet-de-chambre, who learned the story from their own mouths, that the lady was the only daughter of a rich Jew, and her attendant no other than his apprentice, who had converted her to Christianity, and married her at the same time; that this secret having taken air, the old Israelite had contrived a scheme to separate them for ever; and they being apprised of his intention, had found means to elope from his house, with a view of sheltering themselves in France, until the affair could be made up; that, seeing three men ride after them with such eagerness, they never doubted that the pursuers were her father, and some friends, or domestics, and on that supposition had fled with the utmost despatch and trepidation, until they had found themselves happily undeceived, at that very instant when they expected nothing but mischief and misfortune. Lastly, the Swiss gave him to understand, that, after having professed some concern for his deplorable situation, and enjoyed a slight refreshment, they had taken their departure for Dover, and, in all likelihood, were safely arrived at Paris.
This explanation was sent by Pipes, who by that time had found his master. The young gentleman asked about the couple he had unfortunately chased and learned from his valet, who got the story directly from them, that the lady was the only daughter of a wealthy Jewish man, and her companion was his apprentice, who had converted her to Christianity and married her at the same time. When this secret got out, the old Jewish man had devised a plan to separate them for good; and once they learned of his intentions, they managed to run away from his house to hide in France until things could be sorted out. Seeing three men ride after them so eagerly, they assumed the pursuers were her father and some friends or household members, and believing that, they fled as quickly and nervously as possible until they found themselves surprisingly safe at the very moment they expected only trouble and misfortune. Finally, the Swiss man conveyed that after showing some concern for his unfortunate predicament and enjoying a brief refreshment, they had left for Dover and were likely already safely in Paris.
In four-and-twenty hours after Pipes was charged with his commission, he brought back an answer from the mother of Emilia, couched in these words:—
In twenty-four hours after Pipes was given his mission, he returned with a response from Emilia's mother, phrased in these words:—
Sir,—I received the favour of yours, and am glad, for your
own sake, that you have attained a due sense and conviction
of your unkind and unchristian behaviour to poor Emy. I thank
God, none of my children were ever so insulted before. Give
me leave to tell you, sir, my daughter was no upstart, without
friends or education, but a young lady, as well bred, and
better born, than most private gentlewomen in the kingdom;
and therefore, though you had no esteem for her person, you
ought to have paid some regard to her family, which, no
disparagement to you, sir, is more honourable than your own.
As for your proposal, Miss Gauntlet will not hear of it,
being that she thinks her honour will not allow her to listen
to any terms of reconciliation; and she is not yet so
destitute as to embrace an offer to which she has the least
objection. In the meantime, she is so much indisposed, that
she cannot possibly see company; so I beg you will not take
the trouble of making a fruitless journey to this place.
Perhaps your future conduct may deserve her forgiveness,
and really, as I am concerned for your happiness, which you
assure me depends upon her condescension, I wish with all my
heart it may; and am, notwithstanding all that has happened,
your sincere well-wisher. “Cecilia Gauntlet.”
Sir,—I received your letter, and I'm glad, for your own sake, that you've realized and acknowledged your unkind and un-Christian behavior towards poor Emy. I thank God that none of my children have ever been insulted like that before. Let me tell you, sir, my daughter was not some nobody without friends or education, but a young lady as well-bred and with a better background than most private gentlewomen in the kingdom; therefore, even if you didn't appreciate her as a person, you should have respected her family, which, with no disrespect to you, sir, is more honorable than your own. As for your proposal, Miss Gauntlet will not entertain it, as she believes her honor doesn't allow her to consider any terms of reconciliation; she is not so desperate as to accept an offer to which she has any objection. In the meantime, she is so unwell that she can't possibly see anyone, so I kindly ask you not to trouble yourself with a pointless journey here. Perhaps your future actions may earn her forgiveness, and truly, as I care about your happiness—which you tell me relies on her agreeing—I sincerely hope it does; and despite everything that's happened, I remain your genuine well-wisher. “Cecilia Gauntlet.”
From this epistle, and the information of his messenger, our hero learned, that his mistress had actually profited by his wild-goose chase, so as to make a safe retreat to her mother's house. Though sorry to hear of her indisposition, he was also piqued at her implacability, as well as at some stately paragraphs of the letter, in which, he thought, the good lady had consulted her own vanity, rather than her good sense. These motives of resentment helped him to bear his disappointment like a philosopher, especially as he had now quieted his conscience, in proffering to redress the injury he had done; and, moreover, found himself, with regard to his love, in a calm state of hope and resignation.
From this letter and what his messenger told him, our hero learned that his love had actually taken advantage of his wild goose chase to safely escape to her mother's house. While he was sorry to hear about her not feeling well, he was also annoyed by her stubbornness, as well as by some pretentious parts of the letter that he felt showed her vanity more than her good sense. These feelings of resentment helped him deal with his disappointment like a philosopher, especially since he had now eased his conscience by offering to make up for the hurt he had caused; furthermore, he found himself feeling calm about his love, embracing a sense of hope and acceptance.
A seasonable fit of illness is an excellent medicine for the turbulence of passion. Such a reformation had the fever produced on the economy of his thoughts, that he moralized like an apostle, and projected several prudential schemes for his future conduct. In the meantime, as soon as his health was sufficiently re-established, he took a trip to the garrison, in order to visit his friends; and learned from Hatchway's own mouth, that he had broke the ice of courtship to his aunt, and that his addresses were now fairly afloat; though, when he first declared himself to the widow, after she had been duly prepared for the occasion, by her niece and the rest of her friends, she had received his proposal with a becoming reserve, and piously wept at the remembrance of her husband, observing, that she should never meet with his fellow.
A timely bout of illness is a great cure for the chaos of emotions. The fever had such an effect on his mindset that he started to think like a wise person and came up with several sensible plans for his future behavior. In the meantime, as soon as he was feeling well enough, he visited the military base to see his friends and learned directly from Hatchway that he had made a move on his aunt and that his intentions were now public; although, when he first expressed his feelings to the widow, after her niece and her other friends had prepared her for it, she had responded with a respectable reserve and cried at the memory of her husband, saying that she would never find someone like him again.
Peregrine promoted the lieutenant's suit with all his influence, and all Mrs. Trunnion's objections to the match being surmounted, it was determined, that the day of marriage should be put off for three months, that her reputation might not suffer by a precipitate engagement. His next care was to give orders for erecting a plain marble monument to the memory of his uncle, on which the following inscription, composed by the bridegroom, actually appeared in golden letters:
Peregrine used all his influence to support the lieutenant's proposal, and with all of Mrs. Trunnion's objections to the match addressed, it was decided that the wedding would be postponed for three months so that her reputation wouldn't be harmed by a rushed engagement. His next concern was to arrange for the construction of a simple marble monument in memory of his uncle, which bore the following inscription, written by the groom, in golden letters:
Here lies,
Foundered in a fathom and half,
The shell
Of
HAWSER TRUNNION, Esq.
Formerly commander of a squadron
In his Majesty's service,
Who broached to, at five P.M. Oct. 10,
In the year of his age threescore and nineteen.
He kept his guns always loaded,
And his tackle ready mann'd,
And never showed his poop to the enemy,
Except when he took her in tow;
But, His shot being expended, His match burnt out,
And his upper works decayed,
He was sunk by Death's superior weight of metal.
Nevertheless,
He will be weighed again at the Great Day,
His rigging refitted, And his timbers repaired;
And, with one broadside,
Make his adversary strike in his turn.
Here lies,
Foundered in a fathom and a half,
The shell
Of
HAWSER TRUNNION, Esq.
Formerly commander of a squadron
In his Majesty's service,
Who capsized at five P.M. on Oct. 10,
In the year of his age sixty-nine.
He always kept his guns loaded,
And his crew ready for action,
And never showed his rear to the enemy,
Except when he was towing them;
But, his ammo used up, his matches burnt out,
And his upper parts worn down,
He was sunk by Death's heavier force.
Nevertheless,
He will be weighed again at the Great Day,
His rigging fixed, and his timbers restored;
And, with one broadside,
Make his enemy surrender in turn.CHAPTER LXXX.
He returns to London, and meets with Cadwallader, who entertains him with many curious Particulars—Crabtree sounds the Duchess, and undeceives Pickle, who, by an extraordinary Accident, becomes acquainted with another Lady of Quality.
He goes back to London and meets with Cadwallader, who shares a lot of interesting stories. Crabtree tests the waters with the Duchess and reveals the truth to Pickle, who, by an unusual coincidence, meets another lady of high status.
The young gentleman having performed these last offices in honour of his deceased benefactor, and presented Mr. Jolter to the long-expected living, which at this time happened to be vacant, returned to London, and resumed his former gaiety: not that he was able to shake Emilia from his thought, or even to remember her without violent emotions; for, as he recovered his vigour, his former impatience recurred, and therefore he resolved to plunge himself headlong into some intrigue, that might engage his passions and amuse his imagination.
The young man had completed the final honors for his late benefactor and introduced Mr. Jolter to the long-awaited position that was currently open. He then returned to London and tried to regain his usual cheerfulness. However, he couldn’t get Emilia out of his mind or think of her without strong emotions. As he regained his strength, his old restlessness returned, so he decided to dive into some affair that could capture his passions and keep him entertained.
A man of his accomplishments could not fail to meet with a variety of subjects on which his gallantry would have been properly exercised; and this abundance distracted his choice, which at any time was apt to be influenced by caprice and whim. I have already observed, that he had lifted his view, through a matrimonial perspective, as high as a lady of the first quality and distinction: and now, that he was refused by Miss Gauntlet, and enjoyed a little respite from the agonies of that flame which her charms had kindled in his heart, he renewed his assiduities to her grace. Though he durst not yet risk an explanation, he enjoyed the pleasure of seeing himself so well received in quality of a particular acquaintance, that he flattered himself with the belief of his having made some progress in her heart; and was confirmed in this conceited notion by the assurances of her woman, whom, by liberal largesses, he retained in his interest, because she found means to persuade him that she was in the confidence of her lady. But, notwithstanding this encouragement, and the sanguine suggestions of his own vanity, he dreaded the thoughts of exposing himself to her ridicule and resentment by a premature declaration and determined to postpone his addresses, until he should be more certified of the probability of succeeding in his attempt.
A man of his achievements was bound to encounter various situations where he could show off his charm, and this abundance made his choices overwhelming, often swayed by fancy and impulse. I've already mentioned that he had set his sights, with a matrimonial lens, as high as a lady of notable quality and distinction. Now that Miss Gauntlet had turned him down, and he enjoyed a brief break from the pain her beauty had sparked in his heart, he turned his attention back to her grace. Although he wasn't ready to take the plunge and make a declaration, he delighted in the fact that he was warmly received as a special acquaintance, allowing himself to believe he had made some headway in winning her affection; this notion was reinforced by the assurances from her maid, whom he kept on his side with generous gifts because she convinced him that she was in her lady's confidence. Yet, despite this encouragement and his own hopeful thoughts, he feared the idea of risking ridicule and anger from her through an early confession, deciding to hold off on his pursuits until he felt more certain about his chances of success.
While he remained in this hesitation and suspense, he was one morning very agreeably surprised with the appearance of his friend Crabtree, who, by the permission of Pipes, to whom he was well known, entered his chamber before he was awake, and, by a violent shake of the shoulder, disengaged him from the arms of sleep. The first compliments having mutually passed, Cadwallader gave him to understand, that he had arrived in town overnight in the stage-coach from Bath, and entertained him with such a ludicrous account of his fellow-travellers, that Peregrine, for the first time since their parting, indulged himself in mirth, even to the hazard of suffocation.
While he was still stuck in this uncertainty, one morning he was pleasantly surprised by the arrival of his friend Crabtree, who, with Pipes' permission—since he was well acquainted with him—came into his room before he was awake and gave him a hard shake on the shoulder, pulling him out of sleep. After they exchanged some friendly greetings, Cadwallader let him know that he had arrived in town the night before on the stagecoach from Bath. He then entertained Peregrine with a hilarious account of his fellow travelers, making Peregrine laugh for the first time since they parted, even to the point of almost choking.
Crabtree, having rehearsed these adventures, in such a peculiarity of manner as added infinite ridicule to every circumstance, and repeated every scandalous report which had circulated at Bath, after Peregrine's departure, was informed by the youth, that he harboured a design upon the person of such a duchess, and in all appearance had no reason to complain of his reception; but that he would not venture to declare himself, until he should be more ascertained of her sentiments; and therefore he begged leave to depend upon the intelligence of his friend Cadwallader, who, he knew, was admitted to her parties.
Crabtree, having practiced these stories in a way that made each situation seem even more ridiculous, and having repeated every scandalous rumor that had spread in Bath after Peregrine left, was told by the young man that he had a plan involving a certain duchess. He seemed to have no reason to complain about how she received him, but he wouldn’t make a move until he was more sure of her feelings. Therefore, he asked to rely on the insights of his friend Cadwallader, who he knew was included in her gatherings.
The misanthrope, before he would promise his assistance, asked if his prospect verged towards matrimony; and our adventurer, who guessed the meaning of his question, replying in the negative, he undertook the office of reconnoitring her inclination, protesting at the same time, that he would never concern himself in any scheme that did not tend to the disgrace and deception of all the sex. On these conditions he espoused the interest of our hero; and a plan was immediately concerted, in consequence of which they met by accident at her grace's table. Pickle having staid all the forepart of the evening, and sat out all the company, except the misanthrope and a certain widow lady who was said to be in the secrets of my lady duchess, went away on pretence of an indispensable engagement, that Crabtree might have a proper opportunity of making him the subject of conversation.
The misanthrope, before he promised to help, asked if the guy was considering marriage. Our adventurer, who figured out what he meant, said no, so the misanthrope agreed to check her feelings, insisting at the same time that he'd never get involved in anything that didn't aim to embarrass or deceive women. Under these terms, he backed our hero's interest, and they quickly came up with a plan that led to a chance meeting at the duchess's dinner table. Pickle stayed for most of the evening and was the last one to leave, except for the misanthrope and a widow known to be close to the duchess, leaving under the pretense of a pressing engagement so that Crabtree could have a good reason to talk about him.
Accordingly, he had scarce quitted the apartment, when this cynic, attending him to the door with a look of morose disdain, “Were I an absolute prince,” said he, “and that fellow one of my subjects, I would order him to be clothed in sackcloth, and he should drive my asses to water, that his lofty spirit might be lowered to the level of his deserts. The pride of a peacock is downright self-denial, when compared with the vanity of that coxcomb, which was naturally arrogant, but is now rendered altogether intolerable, by the reputation he acquired at Bath, for kicking a bully, outwitting a club of raw sharpers, and divers other pranks, in the execution of which he was more lucky than wise. But nothing has contributed so much to the increase of his insolence and self-conceit, as the favour he found among the ladies; ay, the ladies, madam: I care not who knows it: the ladies, who, to their honour be it spoken, never fail to patronize foppery and folly, provided they solicit their encouragement. And yet this dog was not on the footing of those hermaphroditical animals, who may be reckoned among the number of waiting-women, who air your shifts, comb your lap-dogs, examine your noses with magnifying glasses, in order to squeeze out the worms, clean your tooth-brushes, sweeten your handkerchiefs, and soften waste paper for your occasions. This fellow Pickle was entertained for more important purposes; his turn of duty never came till all those lapwings were gone to roost; then he scaled windows, leaped over garden walls, and was let in by Mrs. Betty in the dark. Nay, the magistrates of Bath complimented him with the freedom of the corporation, merely because, through his means, the waters had gained extraordinary credit; for every female of a tolerable appearance, that went thither on account of her sterility, got the better of her complaint, during his residence at Bath. And now the fellow thinks no woman can withstand his addresses. He had not been here three minutes, when I could perceive, with half an eye, that he had marked out your grace for a conquest,—I mean in an honourable way; though the rascal has impudence enough to attempt anything.”
Accordingly, he had barely left the room when this cynic, following him to the door with a look of bitter disdain, said, “If I were a king, and that guy was one of my subjects, I would make him wear sackcloth and have him take my donkeys to the water, just so his inflated ego would be brought down to the level it deserves. The pride of a peacock is nothing compared to the arrogance of that fool, which was always obnoxious but has become completely unbearable because of the reputation he built at Bath for beating up a bully, outsmarting a group of novice con artists, and pulling off various other stunts for which he was more lucky than smart. But nothing has fueled his arrogance and self-importance more than the attention he gets from women; yes, the women, ma'am: I don’t care who knows it. The women, who, to their credit, never hesitate to support foolishness and vanity if they can gain something from it. And yet this guy wasn’t like those androgynous creatures who can be counted among the waiting maids, who air your clothes, groom your lapdogs, scrutinize your noses with magnifying glasses to check for blemishes, clean your toothbrushes, freshen your handkerchiefs, and prepare scrap paper for your use. This guy, Pickle, was kept around for more significant reasons; his services weren’t needed until all those fluffy creatures had gone to bed; then he would climb through windows, hop over garden walls, and sneak in through the dark with the help of Mrs. Betty. In fact, the officials in Bath even gave him the freedom of the corp, just because he managed to make the waters highly regarded; every reasonably attractive woman who visited for her infertility issues found relief during his time at Bath. And now this guy thinks no woman can resist his advances. He'd barely been here three minutes when I could see with half an eye that he had set his sights on you for a conquest—I mean in an honorable way; although the rascal has enough nerve to try anything.”
So saying, he fixed his eyes upon the duchess, who, while her face glowed with indignation, turning to her confidant, expressed herself in these words: “Upon my life! I believe there is actually some truth in what this old ruffian says; I have myself observed that young fellow eyeing me with a very particular stare.”—“It is not to be at all wondered at,” said her friend, “that a youth of his complexion should be sensible to the charms of your grace! but I dare say he would not presume to entertain any but the most honourable and respectful sentiments.”—“Respectful sentiments!” cried my lady, with a look of ineffable disdain; “if I thought the fellow had assurance enough to think of me in any shape, I protest I would forbid him my house. Upon my honour, such instances of audacity should induce persons of quality to keep your small gentry at a greater distance; for they are very apt to grow impudent, upon the least countenance or encouragement.”
So saying, he focused his gaze on the duchess, who, while her face burned with anger, turned to her confidant and said, “I swear! I think there might actually be some truth in what this old creep is saying; I've noticed that young guy watching me with a very intense stare.” — “It’s no surprise at all,” replied her friend, “that a young man like him would be drawn to your elegance! But I’m sure he wouldn’t dare to think anything but the most honorable and respectful thoughts.” — “Respectful thoughts!” my lady exclaimed, with a look of utter disdain; “if I believed that guy had the nerve to think of me in any way, I swear I would kick him out of my house. Honestly, such boldness should make people of status keep their distance from your lower class; they tend to get too brazen with the slightest hint of encouragement.”
Cadwallader, satisfied with this declaration, changed the subject of discourse, and next day communicated his discovery to his friend Pickle, who upon this occasion felt the most stinging sensations of mortified pride, and resolved to quit his prospect with a good grace. Nor did the execution of this self-denying scheme cost him one moment's uneasiness; for his heart had never been interested in the pursuit, and his vanity triumphed in the thoughts of manifesting his indifference. Accordingly, the very next time he visited her grace, his behaviour was remarkably frank, sprightly and disengaged; and the subject of love being artfully introduced by the widow, who had been directed to sound his inclinations, he rallied the passion with great ease and severity and made no scruple of declaring himself heart-whole. Though the duchess had resented his supposed affection, she was now offended at his insensibility, and even signified her disgust, by observing, that perhaps his attention to his own qualifications screened him from the impression of all other objects.
Cadwallader, pleased with this declaration, shifted the topic of conversation and the next day shared his discovery with his friend Pickle. On this occasion, Pickle experienced a sharp sting of wounded pride and decided to gracefully step back from his aspirations. However, executing this self-denying plan didn't cause him any distress; his heart had never truly been invested in the pursuit, and his vanity took pleasure in showcasing his indifference. Thus, during his next visit with her grace, he acted very open, lively, and relaxed. When the topic of love was cleverly brought up by the widow, who was trying to gauge his feelings, he handled the matter with ease and seriousness, openly declaring that he was completely unattached. Although the duchess had previously been annoyed by his assumed affection, she was now irritated by his lack of sensitivity and even expressed her displeasure by suggesting that perhaps his focus on his own qualities shielded him from being affected by anything else.
While he enjoyed this sarcasm, the meaning of which he could plainly discern, the company was joined by a certain virtuoso, who had gained free access to all the great families of the land, by his noble talent of gossiping and buffoonery. He was now in the seventy-fifth year of his age; his birth was so obscure, that he scarce knew his father's name; his education suitable to the dignity of his descent; his character publicly branded with homicide, profligacy, and breach of trust; yet this man, by the happy inheritance of impregnable effrontery, and a lucky prostitution of all principle in rendering himself subservient to the appetites of the great, had attained to an independency of fortune, as well as to such a particular share of favour among the quality, that, although he was well known to have pimped for three generations of the nobility, there was not a lady of fashion in the kingdom who scrupled to admit him to her toilette, or even to be squired by him in any place of public entertainment. Not but that this sage was occasionally useful to his fellow-creatures, by these connections with people of fortune; for he often undertook to solicit charity in behalf of distressed objects, with a view of embezzling one-half of the benefactions. It was an errand of this kind that now brought him to the house of her grace.
While he appreciated the sarcasm, which he could clearly understand, their group was joined by a certain virtuoso who had gained unrestricted access to all the prominent families in the land through his exceptional talent for gossip and humor. He was now seventy-five years old; his origins were so obscure that he hardly knew his father's name; his education was fitting for someone of his background; and his reputation was publicly marked by murder, debauchery, and betrayal. Yet this man, with his impressive audacity and a convenient disregard for all principles in catering to the desires of the elite, had achieved financial independence and a special favor among the upper class. Despite being well-known for having acted as a procurer for three generations of nobility, there wasn’t a fashionable lady in the kingdom who hesitated to allow him into her dressing room or to be accompanied by him in any public entertainment venue. Not that this wise man didn’t occasionally do some good for his fellow humans through these connections with wealthy people; he often took it upon himself to solicit charity for those in need, intending to pocket half of the donations. It was for this kind of errand that he was currently visiting the house of her grace.
After having sat a few minutes, he told the company that he would favour them with a very proper opportunity to extend their benevolence, for the relief of a poor gentlewoman, who was reduced to the most abject misery, by the death of her husband, and just delivered of a couple of fine boys: they, moreover, understood from his information, that this object was daughter of a good family, who had renounced her in consequence of her marrying an ensign without a fortune; and even obstructed his promotion with all their influence and power; a circumstance of barbarity which had made such an impression upon his mind, as disordered his brain, and drove him to despair, in a fit of which he had made away with himself, leaving his wife, then big with child, to all the horrors of indigence and grief.
After sitting for a few minutes, he informed the group that he would give them a proper chance to show their generosity, as it was needed for a poor woman who had fallen into severe hardship due to her husband's death and had just given birth to twins. They also learned from him that this woman was from a good family, which had disowned her because she married a low-ranking officer with no money; they even used their influence to prevent his promotion. This cruel treatment had a profound effect on his mind, leading him to despair, and in a fit of madness, he ended his own life, leaving his wife—who was pregnant at the time—to face the terrible struggles of poverty and sorrow.
Various were the criticisms on this pathetic picture, which the old man drew with great expression. My lady duchess concluded that she must be a creature void of all feeling and reflection, who could survive such aggravated misery, therefore did not deserve to be relieved, except in the character of a common beggar; and was generous enough to offer a recommendation, by which she would be admitted into an infirmary, to which her grace was a subscriber; at the same time advising the solicitor to send the twins to the Foundling Hospital, where they could be carefully nursed and brought up, so as to become useful members to the commonwealth. Another lady, with all due deference to the opinion of the duchess, was free enough to blame the generosity of her grace, which would only serve to encourage children in disobedience to their parents, and might be the means not only of prolonging the distress of the wretched creature, but also of ruining the constitution of some young heir, perhaps the hope of a great family; for she did suppose that madam, when her month should be up, and her brats disposed of, would spread her attractions to the public, provided she could profit by her person, and, in the usual way, make a regular progress from St. James's to Drury Lane. She apprehended, for these reasons, that their compassion would be most effectually shown, in leaving her to perish in her present necessity; and that the old gentleman would be unpardonable, should he persist in his endeavours to relieve her. A third member of this tender-hearted society, after having asked if the young woman was handsome, and being answered in the negative, allowed that there was a great deal of reason in what had been said by the honourable person who had spoke last; nevertheless, she humbly conceived her sentence would admit of some mitigation. “Let the bantlings,” said she, “be sent to the hospital, according to the advice of her grace, and a small collection be made for the present support of the mother; and, when her health is recovered, I will take her into my family, in quality of an upper servant, or medium between me and my woman; for, upon my life! I can't endure to chide or give directions to a creature, who is, in point of birth and education, but one degree above the vulgar.”
There were many criticisms of this pitiful picture that the old man painted with great emotion. The duchess decided that the woman must be completely void of feelings and thoughts if she could endure such extreme misery, and therefore didn’t deserve any help except as a common beggar. She was generous enough to suggest that the woman be admitted to an infirmary, which she supported; at the same time advising the solicitor to send the twins to the Foundling Hospital, where they could be properly cared for and raised to become useful members of society. Another lady, while respecting the duchess's opinion, was bold enough to criticize her generosity, claiming it would only encourage children to disobey their parents and could not only prolong the suffering of this unfortunate woman but also ruin some young heir’s future, perhaps the hope of a prestigious family. She speculated that once the woman’s month was over and her children were gone, she would likely showcase her charms to the public if she could benefit from it, typically making her way from St. James's to Drury Lane. For these reasons, she believed that the most effective way to show compassion would be to let the woman suffer in her current situation, and that the old gentleman would be unforgivable if he continued to try to help her. A third member of this compassionate group, after asking if the young woman was attractive and getting a negative response, agreed that there was merit in what the last speaker had said; however, she felt that her punishment could be lessened. “Let the children,” she said, “be sent to the hospital as her grace suggested, and let’s collect a small amount to help support the mother for now; when she gets better, I’ll take her into my household as an upper servant or as a liaison between me and my maid; for goodness! I can’t stand scolding or giving orders to someone who is only one step above the common crowd in terms of birth and education.”
This proposal met with universal approbation. The duchess, to her immortal honour, began the contribution with a crown; so that the rest of the company were obliged to restrict their liberality to half the sum, that her grace might not be affronted. And the proposer, demanding the poor woman's name and place of abode, the old mediator could not help giving her ladyship a verbal direction, though he was extremely mortified, on more accounts than one, to find such an issue to his solicitation.
This proposal was welcomed by everyone. The duchess, to her everlasting credit, started off the donations with a crown; so the rest of the group felt they had to limit their generosity to half that amount, so as not to offend her. When the proposer asked for the poor woman's name and where she lived, the old mediator couldn't resist giving her ladyship a verbal instruction, even though he felt very embarrassed for several reasons to see his request end like this.
Peregrine, who, “though humorous as winter, had a tear for pity, and a hand open as day for melting charity,” was shocked at the nature and result of this ungenerous consultation. He contributed his half-crown, however, and, retiring from the company, betook himself to the lodgings of the forlorn lady in the straw, according to the direction he had heard. Upon inquiry, he understood that she was then visited by some charitable gentlewoman, who had sent for a nurse, and waited the return of the messenger; and he sent up his respects, desiring he might be permitted to see her, on pretence of having been intimate with her late husband.
Peregrine, who was “as humorous as winter but had a heart full of pity and a hand wide open for acts of kindness,” was taken aback by the nature and outcome of this selfish meeting. Nevertheless, he contributed his half-crown and, stepping away from the group, made his way to the lodging of the sad lady in the straw, based on the directions he had heard. When he inquired, he learned that she was currently being visited by a kind-hearted woman who had called for a nurse and was waiting for the messenger to return. He sent up his regards, asking if he could see her, under the pretense of having known her late husband well.
Though the poor woman had never heard of his name, she did not think proper to deny his request; and he was conducted to a paltry chamber in the third story, where he found this unhappy widow sitting upon a truckle-bed, and suckling one of her infants, with the most piteous expression of anguish in her features, which were naturally regular and sweet, while the other was fondled on the knee of a person, whose attention was so much engrossed by her little charge, that, for the present, she could mind nothing else; and it was not till after the first compliments passed betwixt the hapless mother and our adventurer, that he perceived the stranger's countenance, which inspired him with the highest esteem and admiration. He beheld all the graces of elegance and beauty, breathing sentiment and beneficence, and softened into the most enchanting tenderness of weeping sympathy. When he declared the cause of his visit, which was no other than the desire of befriending the distressed lady, to whom he presented a bank-note for twenty pounds, he was favoured with such a look of complacency by this amiable phantom, who might have been justly taken for an angel ministering to the necessities of mortals, that his whole soul was transported with love and veneration. Nor was this prepossession diminished by the information of the widow, who, after having manifested her gratitude in a flood of tears, told him, that the unknown object of his esteem was a person of honour, who having heard by accident of her deplorable situation, had immediately obeyed the dictates of her humanity, and come in person to relieve her distress; that she had not only generously supplied her with money for present sustenance, but also undertaken to provide a nurse for her babes, and even promised to favour her with protection, should she survive her present melancholy situation. To these articles of intelligence she added, that the name of her benefactress was the celebrated Lady —, to whose character the youth was no stranger, though he had never seen her person before. The killing edge of her charms was a little blunted by the accidents of time and fortune; but no man of taste and imagination, whose nerves were not quite chilled with the frost of age, could, even at that time, look upon her with impunity. And as Peregrine saw her attractions heightened by the tender office in which she was engaged, he was smitten with her beauty, and so ravished with her compassion, that he could not suppress his emotions, but applauded her benevolence with all the warmth of enthusiasm.
Though the poor woman had never heard his name, she didn’t feel right denying his request. He was taken to a small room on the third floor, where he found the distressed widow sitting on a low bed, nursing one of her babies. Her face wore a pained expression, despite being naturally beautiful and sweet, while the other child was being cared for by someone who was so focused on the little one that she couldn’t pay attention to anything else. It wasn’t until after they exchanged a few polite words that he noticed the stranger’s face, which filled him with great respect and admiration. He saw all the grace and beauty in her, radiating kindness and deep sympathy. When he explained the purpose of his visit—his desire to help the struggling woman—and handed her a banknote for twenty pounds, the lovely figure looked at him with such warmth that he was completely overwhelmed with love and admiration. This feeling was only strengthened when the widow, expressing her gratitude through tears, revealed that the stranger was a woman of honor who had, by chance, learned of her unfortunate situation and had quickly come to help her. She not only generously provided money for immediate needs but also promised to arrange a nurse for her children and offered protection if she made it through her current hardships. The widow then revealed that her benefactor was the famous Lady —, a name the young man recognized, even though he had never met her before. The sharpness of her beauty had dulled slightly with time and circumstance, but any man of taste and imagination, who wasn’t completely jaded by age, would have found her irresistible. And as Peregrine observed her allure enhanced by her caring role, he was captivated by her beauty and deeply touched by her compassion, unable to hold back his admiration, which he expressed with genuine enthusiasm.
Her ladyship received his compliments with great politeness and affability. And the occasion on which they met being equally interesting to both, an acquaintance commenced between them, and they concerted measures for the benefit of the widow and her two children, one of whom our hero bespoke for his own godson; for Pickle was not so obscure in the beau monde, but that his fame had reached the ears of this lady, who, therefore, did not discourage his advances towards her friendship and esteem. All the particulars relating to their charge being adjusted, he attended her ladyship to her own house; and, by her conversation, had the pleasure of finding her understanding suitable to her other accomplishments. Nor had she any reason to think that our hero's qualifications had been exaggerated by common report.
Her ladyship accepted his compliments with great politeness and friendliness. Since the occasion of their meeting was equally interesting to both, they began to get acquainted and planned ways to help the widow and her two children, one of whom our hero wanted to be his godson. Pickle was not so unknown in high society that his reputation hadn't reached her, so she welcomed his attempts to build a friendship. Once all the details regarding their charge were settled, he accompanied her to her house, and through their conversation, he was pleased to discover that her intelligence matched her other talents. She also had no reason to believe that our hero’s abilities had been exaggerated by hearsay.
One of their adopted children died before it was baptized; so that their care concentred in the other, for whom they stood sponsors. Understanding that the old agent was becoming troublesome in his visits to the mother, to whom he now began to administer such counsel as shocked the delicacy of her virtue, they removed her into another lodging, where she would not be exposed to his machinations. In less than a month, our hero learned from a nobleman of his acquaintance, that the hoary pander had actually engaged to procure for him this poor afflicted gentlewoman; and, being frustrated in his intention, substituted in her room a nymph from the purlieus of Covent Garden, that made his lordship smart severely for the favours she bestowed.
One of their adopted children passed away before being baptized, so they focused their attention on the other child, for whom they acted as sponsors. Realizing that the old agent was becoming a nuisance with his visits to the mother and was now giving her advice that offended her sense of virtue, they moved her to a different place to protect her from his schemes. Within a month, our hero found out from a nobleman he knew that the grey-haired pimp had actually planned to arrange for this poor, troubled woman; and when that fell through, he replaced her with a young woman from Covent Garden, who made his lordship pay dearly for the favors she offered.
Meanwhile, Peregrine cultivated his new acquaintance with all his art and assiduity, presuming, from the circumstances of her reputation and fate, as well as on the strength of his own merit, that, in time, he should be able to indulge that passion which had begun to glow within his breast. As her ladyship had undergone a vast variety of fortune and adventure, which he had heard indistinctly related, with numberless errors and misrepresentations, he was no sooner entitled, by the familiarity of communication, to ask such a favour, than he earnestly entreated her to entertain him with the particulars of her story; and, by dint of importunity, she was at length prevailed upon, in a select party, to gratify his curiosity, by the account given in the following chapter.
Meanwhile, Peregrine cultivated his new acquaintance with all his skill and dedication, assuming that, considering her reputation and experiences, along with his own worth, he would eventually be able to pursue the feelings that had started to ignite within him. Since she had experienced a wide range of fortunes and adventures, which he had heard vaguely recounted with numerous errors and misconceptions, he felt entitled, due to their growing familiarity, to request that favor. He eagerly asked her to share the details of her story; after much persistence, she finally agreed, in a small gathering, to satisfy his curiosity with the account presented in the following chapter.
CHAPTER LXXXI.
The Memoirs of a Lady of Quality.
The Memoirs of a Lady of Quality.
“By the circumstances of the story which I am going to relate, you will be convinced of my candour, while you are informed of my indiscretion. You will be enabled, I hope, to perceive, that, howsoever my head may have erred, my heart hath always been uncorrupted, and that I have been unhappy, because I loved, and was a woman.
“By the circumstances of the story I'm about to share, you'll see my honesty, even as you learn about my mistakes. I hope you can understand that, no matter how much I've messed up, my heart has always been pure, and I have been unhappy because I loved and I am a woman.”
“I believe I need not observe, that I was the only child of a man of good fortune, who indulged me in my infancy with all the tenderness of paternal affection; and, when I was six years old, sent me to a private school, where I stayed till my age was doubled, and became such a favourite, that I was, even in those early days, carried to all the places of public diversion, the court itself not excepted, an indulgence that flattered my love of pleasure, to which I was naturally addicted, and encouraged those ideas of vanity and ambition which spring up so early in the human mind.
“I really don’t need to point out that I was the only child of a wealthy man who showered me with all the love and care a father could offer during my early years. When I was six, he sent me to a private school, where I stayed until I was twelve and became such a favorite that, even in those early days, I was taken to all the public events, including the court. This indulgence boosted my love for enjoyment, which I was naturally drawn to, and fed the vanity and ambition that often develops early in life.”
“I was lively and good-natured, my imagination apt to run riot, my heart liberal and disinterested, though I was so obstinately attached to my own opinions, that I could not well brook contradiction; and, in the whole of my disposition, resembled that of Henry V., as described by Shakespeare.
“I was cheerful and easygoing, my imagination often getting out of control, my heart generous and selfless, even though I was so stubbornly attached to my own opinions that I couldn’t really tolerate being contradicted; in every way, my personality was similar to that of Henry V., as described by Shakespeare.
“In my thirteenth year I went to Bath, where I was first introduced into the world as a woman, having been entitled to that privilege by my person, which was remarkably tall for my years; and there my fancy was quite captivated by the variety of diversions in which I was continually engaged. Not that the parties were altogether new to me, but because I now found myself considered as a person of consequence, and surrounded by a crowd of admirers, who courted my acquaintance, and fed my vanity with praise and adulation. In short, whether or not I deserved their encomiums, I leave the world to judge; but my person was commended, and my talent in dancing met with universal applause. No wonder, then, that everything appeared joyous to a young creature, who was so void of experience and dissimulation, that she believed everybody's heart as sincere as her own, and every object such as it appeared to be.
“In my thirteenth year, I went to Bath, where I was first introduced to the world as a woman, having gained that privilege thanks to my height, which was remarkably tall for my age. There, I was completely taken in by the variety of activities I was constantly involved in. It wasn’t that these gatherings were entirely new to me, but now I found myself being seen as someone important, surrounded by a crowd of admirers who sought my friendship and boosted my ego with compliments and praise. In short, whether or not I deserved their accolades, I’ll let others judge; but my appearance was praised, and my dancing skills received universal acclaim. It’s no surprise, then, that everything seemed joyful to a young girl who was so inexperienced and genuine that she believed everyone’s heart was as sincere as her own, and that every situation was exactly as it appeared.”
“Among the swains who sighed, or pretended to sigh for me, were two that bore a pretty equal share of my favour (it was too superficial to deserve the name of love). One of these was a forward youth of sixteen, extremely handsome, lively, and impudent. He attended in quality of page upon the Princess Amelia, who spent that season at Bath. The other was a Scotch nobleman turned of thirty, who was graced with a red ribbon, and danced particularly well, two qualifications of great weight with a girl of my age, whose heart was not deeply interested in the cause. Nevertheless, the page prevailed over this formidable rival; though our amour went no farther than a little flirting, and ceased entirely when I left the place.
“Among the guys who sighed, or pretended to sigh for me, there were two who got about the same amount of my attention (it was too shallow to be called love). One was a bold sixteen-year-old, extremely good-looking, lively, and cheeky. He worked as a page for Princess Amelia, who spent that season in Bath. The other was a Scottish nobleman in his thirties, who sported a red ribbon and danced particularly well, two qualities that meant a lot to a girl my age, whose heart wasn’t really invested in the situation. Still, the page won out over this tough competition; although our little romance didn’t go beyond some flirting and ended completely when I left the place.”
“Next year, however, I revisited this agreeable scene, and passed my time in the same circle of amusements; in which, indeed, each season at Bath is exactly resembled by that which succeeds, allowing for the difference of company, which is continually varying. There I met with the same incense, and again had my favourite, who was a North Briton, and captain of foot, near forty years of age, and a little lame, an impediment which I did not discover, until it was pointed out by some of my companions, who rallied me upon my choice. He was always cheerful, and very amorous, had a good countenance, and an excellent understanding, possessed a great deal of art, and would have persuaded me to marry him, had I not been restrained by the authority of my father, whose consent was not to be obtained in favour of a man of his fortune.
“Next year, though, I returned to this pleasant scene and spent my time in the same activities; each season in Bath is pretty much the same as the one before, except for the changing crowd. There, I encountered the same charm and once again met my favorite, who was a Scotsman and a foot captain, nearly forty years old, and a little lame, a detail I didn't notice until some of my friends teased me about my choice. He was always cheerful and very affectionate, had a nice face and a sharp mind, was quite charming, and would have convinced me to marry him if I hadn't been held back by my father's authority, whose approval I couldn’t get for a man of his status.”
“At the same time, many proposals of marriage were made to my parents; but as they came from people whom I did not like, I rejected them all, being determined to refuse every man who did not make his addresses to myself in person, because I had no notion of marrying for anything but love. Among these formal proposers was a Scottish earl, whose pretensions were broke off by some difference about settlements; and the son of an English baron, with whom my father was in treaty, when he carried me to town, on a visit to a young lady with whom I had been intimate from my infancy. She was just delivered of her first son, for whom we stood sponsors; so that this occasion detained us a whole month, during which I went to a ball at court, on the Queen's birthday, and there, for the first time, felt what love and beauty were.
“At the same time, my parents received many marriage proposals, but since they came from people I didn’t like, I rejected them all. I was determined to refuse any man who didn’t approach me directly, as I had no intention of marrying for anything other than love. Among these formal suitors was a Scottish earl, whose plans fell apart due to some disagreement over settlements, and the son of an English baron, with whom my father was negotiating, when he took me to the city for a visit with a young lady I had known since childhood. She had just given birth to her first son, for whom we were the godparents, so this visit kept us occupied for an entire month. During that time, I attended a ball at court on the Queen's birthday and, for the first time, experienced what love and beauty truly felt like.”
“The second son of Duke H—, who had just returned from his travels, was dancing with the princess royal, when a young lady came and desired me to go and see a stranger, whom all the world admired. Upon which I followed her into the circle, and observed this object of admiration. He was dressed in a coat of white cloth, faced with blue satin, embroidered with silver, of the same piece with his waistcoat; his fine hair hung down his back in ringlets below his waist; his hat was laced with silver, and garnished with a white feather; but his person beggared description. He was tall and graceful, neither corpulent nor meagre, his limbs finely proportioned, his countenance open and majestic, his eyes full of sweetness and vivacity, his teeth regular, and his pouting lips of the complexion of the damask rose. In short, he was formed for love, and inspired it wherever he appeared; nor was he a niggard of his talents, but liberally returned it, at least, what passed for such; for he had a flow of gallantry, for which many ladies of this land can vouch from their own experience. But he exclaimed against marriage, because he had, as yet, met with no woman to whose charms he would surrender his liberty, though a princess of France, and lady of the same rank in —, were said to be, at that time, enamoured of his person.
The second son of Duke H—, who had just returned from his travels, was dancing with the princess royal when a young lady approached me and asked me to go see a stranger that everyone admired. So, I followed her into the circle and observed this object of admiration. He was dressed in a white cloth coat with blue satin trim, embroidered with silver, matching his waistcoat; his beautiful hair fell down his back in curls past his waist; his hat was trimmed with silver and adorned with a white feather; but his appearance was beyond description. He was tall and graceful, neither overweight nor too thin, with well-proportioned limbs, an open and majestic face, eyes full of sweetness and energy, straight teeth, and lips the color of a damask rose. In short, he was made for love and inspired it wherever he went; he was also generous with his affections, at least in what passed for such; for he had a charming way about him that many ladies in this land can attest to from personal experience. However, he was against marriage because he had yet to meet a woman whose charms could persuade him to give up his freedom, even though a French princess and a lady of the same rank in — were said to be, at that time, in love with him.
“I went home, totally engrossed by his idea, flattering myself that he had observed me with some attention; for I was young and new, and had the good fortune to attract the notice and approbation of the queen herself.
“I went home, completely absorbed by his idea, convincing myself that he had taken some notice of me; since I was young and fresh, and had the good luck to catch the attention and approval of the queen herself.”
“Next day, being at the opera, I was agreeably surprised with the appearance of this amiable stranger, who no sooner saw me enter, than he approached so near to the place where I sat, that I overheard what he said to his companions; and was so happy as to find myself the object of his discourse, which abounded with rapturous expressions of love and admiration. I could not listen to these transports without emotion; my colour changed, my heart throbbed with unusual violence, and my eyes betrayed my inclination in sundry favourable glances, which he seemed to interpret aright, though he could not then avail himself of his success, so far as to communicate his sentiments by speech, because we were strangers to each other.
“Later that day, while at the opera, I was pleasantly surprised to see this charming stranger. As soon as he spotted me entering, he moved close to where I was sitting, allowing me to overhear what he was saying to his friends. I was thrilled to realize I was the topic of his conversation, which was filled with passionate expressions of love and admiration. I couldn’t listen to his words without feeling emotional; my face flushed, my heart raced unexpectedly, and my eyes revealed my interest through various encouraging glances. He seemed to understand my signals, although he couldn’t act on his feelings by speaking to me since we were still strangers.”
“I passed that night in the most anxious suspense, and several days elapsed before I saw him again. At length, however, being at court on a ball-night, and determined against dancing, I perceived him among the crowd, and, to my unspeakable joy, saw him advance, with my Lord P—, who introduced him to my acquaintance. He soon found means to alter my resolution, and I condescended to be his partner all the evening; during which he declared his passion in the most tender and persuasive terms that real love could dictate, or fruitful imagination invent.
“I spent that night in anxious suspense, and several days went by before I saw him again. Finally, while I was at court on a ball night, and set against dancing, I spotted him in the crowd. To my immense joy, I saw him approach, accompanied by my Lord P—, who introduced him to me. He quickly found a way to change my mind, and I agreed to be his partner for the entire evening; during that time, he expressed his feelings in the most tender and convincing words that true love could inspire or a vivid imagination could create.”
“I believed his protestations, because I wished them true, and was an unexperienced girl of fifteen. I complied with his earnest request of being permitted to visit me, and even invited him to breakfast next morning; so that you may imagine (I speak to those that feel) I did not, that night, enjoy much repose. Such was the hurry and flutter of my spirits, that I rose at six to receive him at ten. I dressed myself in a new pink satin gown, and my best laced night-clothes, and was so animated by the occasion that, if ever I deserved a compliment upon my looks, it was my due at this meeting. The wished-for moment came that brought my lover to my view. I was overwhelmed with joy, modesty, and fear of I knew not what. We sat down to breakfast, but did not eat. He renewed his addresses with irresistible eloquence, and pressed me to accept of his hand without further hesitation. But to such a precipitate step I objected, as a measure repugnant to my decency, as well as to that duty which I owed to my father, whom I tenderly loved.
“I believed him when he insisted, because I wanted it to be true, and I was just an inexperienced girl of fifteen. I agreed to his earnest request to visit me and even invited him to breakfast the next morning. So you can imagine (I speak to those who understand) I didn’t get much sleep that night. My heart raced and my mind was all over the place, so I got up at six to prepare for him at ten. I put on a new pink satin dress and my best lacy nightgown, and I was so excited for the occasion that if I ever deserved a compliment about my looks, it was at this meeting. The moment I had been waiting for finally arrived, bringing my lover into view. I was overwhelmed with joy, shyness, and a fear of the unknown. We sat down for breakfast, but didn’t eat. He renewed his romantic advances with irresistible charm and urged me to accept his proposal without delay. But I resisted such a hasty decision, feeling it was against my sense of decency and the duty I owed to my father, whom I loved dearly.”
“Though I withstood this premature proposal, I did not attempt to disguise the situation of my thoughts; and thus commenced a tender correspondence, which was maintained by letters while I remained in the country, and carried on, when I was in town, by private interviews twice or thrice a week at the house of my milliner, where such endearments passed as refined and happy lovers know, and others can only guess. Truth and innocence prevailed on my side, while his heart was fraught with sincerity and love. Such frequent intercourse created an intimacy which I began to think dangerous, and therefore yielded to his repeated desire that we might be united for ever. Nay, I resolved to avoid him, until the day should be fixed, and very innocently, though not very wisely, told him my reason for this determination, which was no other than a consciousness of my incapacity to refuse him anything he should demand as a testimony of my love.
“Even though I resisted this early proposal, I didn't try to hide what I was thinking; and so began a sweet exchange of letters while I was in the countryside, and later, when I was in the city, we met privately two or three times a week at my dressmaker's place, where we shared the kind of affectionate moments that only true lovers understand—and others can only guess at. I was filled with truth and innocence, while he was genuinely sincere and in love. This frequent interaction created a closeness I started to feel was risky, so I eventually gave in to his repeated requests for us to be together forever. In fact, I decided to stay away from him until we set a date, and very innocently, though not very wisely, explained my reasoning to him, which was simply that I knew I wouldn’t be able to deny him anything he asked for as proof of my love.”
“The time was accordingly appointed, at the distance of a few days, during which I intended to have implored my father's consent, though I had but faint hopes of obtaining it. But he was by some means or other apprised of our design, before I could prevail upon myself to make him acquainted with our purpose. I had danced with my lover at the ridotto on the preceding evening, and there perhaps our eyes betrayed us. Certain it is, several of Lord W—'s relations, who disapproved of the match, came up and rallied him on his passion; Lord S—k, in particular, used this remarkable expression, 'Nephew, as much love as you please, but no matrimony.'”
“The time was set for a few days later, during which I planned to ask my father for his approval, even though I had little hope of getting it. But somehow, he found out about our plan before I could bring myself to tell him our intentions. I had danced with my lover at the ridotto the night before, and maybe our eyes gave us away. It’s clear that several of Lord W—'s relatives, who didn't approve of the match, approached him and teased him about his feelings; Lord S—k, in particular, said something quite striking: ‘Nephew, feel free to love as much as you want, but no marriage.’”
“Next day, the priest being prepared, and the bridegroom waiting for me at the appointed place, in all the transports of impatient expectation, I was, without any previous warning, carried into the country by my father, who took no notice of the intelligence he had received, but decoyed me into the coach on pretence of taking the air; and, when we had proceeded as far as Turnham Green, gave me to understand, that he would dine in that place.
“Next day, the priest was ready, and the groom was waiting for me at the scheduled spot, filled with eager anticipation. Without any warning, my father took me out to the countryside, ignoring the news he had received. He lured me into the carriage under the pretense of getting some fresh air; and when we got as far as Turnham Green, he let me know that he planned to have dinner there.”
“There was no remedy. I was obliged to bear my disappointment, though with an aching heart, and followed him up-stairs into an apartment, where he told me he was minutely informed of my matrimonial scheme. I did not attempt to disguise the truth, but assured him, while the tears gushed from my eyes, that my want of courage alone had hindered me from making him privy to my passion; though I owned, I should have married Lord W—, even though he had disapproved of my choice. I reminded him of the uneasy life I led at home, and frankly acknowledged, that I loved my admirer too well to live without him; though, if he would favour me with his consent, I would defer my intention, and punctually observe any day he would fix for our nuptials. Meanwhile I begged he would permit me to send a message to Lord W—, who was waiting in expectation of my coming, and might, without such notice, imagine I was playing the jilt. He granted this last request; in consequence of which I sent a letter to my lover, who, when he received it, had almost fainted away, believing I should be locked up in the country, and snatched for ever from his arms. Tortured with these apprehensions, he changed clothes immediately, and, taking horse, resolved to follow me whithersoever we should go.
“There was no choice. I had to deal with my disappointment, even though it broke my heart, and I followed him upstairs into a room where he told me he knew all about my plan to marry. I didn’t try to hide the truth; I told him, with tears streaming down my face, that my lack of courage had stopped me from confessing my feelings to him. I admitted that I would have married Lord W— even if he didn’t approve of my choice. I reminded him of the uncomfortable life I had at home and honestly said that I loved my admirer too much to live without him. However, if he would agree, I would wait to act on my intentions and would stick to any date he set for our wedding. Meanwhile, I asked if I could send a message to Lord W—, who was waiting for me and might think I was playing games if I didn’t. He agreed to this last request, so I sent a letter to my lover. When he received it, he nearly fainted, thinking I’d be stuck in the country forever and taken away from him. Tortured by these worries, he changed his clothes right away and, getting on a horse, decided to follow me wherever I went.”
“After dinner, we proceeded as far as Brentford, where we lay, intending to be at my father's country house next night; and my admirer putting up at the same inn, practised every expedient his invention could suggest to procure an interview; but all his endeavours were unsuccessful, because I, who little dreamed of his being so near, had gone to bed upon our first arrival, overwhelmed with affliction and tears. In the morning I threw myself at my father's feet, and conjured him, by all the ties of paternal affection, to indulge me with an opportunity of seeing my admirer once more, before I should be conveyed from his wishes. The melancholy condition in which I preferred this supplication, melted the tender heart of my parent, who yielded to my supplications, and carried me back to town for that purpose.
“After dinner, we traveled as far as Brentford, where we stayed, planning to reach my father's country house the next night. My admirer, staying at the same inn, tried every trick he could think of to get a chance to meet me, but nothing worked because I, unaware he was so close, had gone to bed right after we arrived, overwhelmed with sadness and tears. In the morning, I threw myself at my father's feet and pleaded with him, by all the bonds of fatherly love, to let me see my admirer one last time before I was taken away from his wishes. The sad state in which I made this request melted my father’s heart, and he agreed to my pleas and took me back to town for that reason.”
“Lord W—, who had watched our motions, and arrived at his own lodgings before we arrived at my father's house, obeyed my summons on the instant, and appeared before me like an angel. Our faculties were for some minutes suspended by a conflict of grief and joy. At length I recovered the use of speech, and gave him to understand, that I was come to town in order to take my leave of him, by the permission of my father, whom I had promised to attend into the country next day, before he would consent to my return; the chief cause and pretence of which was my earnest desire to convince him, that I was not to blame for the disappointment he had suffered, and that I should see him again in a month, when the nuptial knot should be tied in spite of all opposition.
“Lord W—, who had been keeping an eye on us, got to his place before we arrived at my father's house. He came at my call right away and appeared before me like an angel. For a few minutes, we were caught in a mix of sorrow and happiness. Finally, I managed to speak and let him know that I had come to town to say goodbye, with my father's permission, since I had promised to go with him to the countryside the next day before he would let me return. The main reason I wanted to see him was to assure him that I wasn’t at fault for the disappointment he faced, and that I would see him again in a month when the wedding would happen despite all the obstacles.”
“My lover, who was better acquainted with the world, had wellnigh run distracted with this information. He swore he would not leave me, until I should promise to meet and marry him next day; or, if I refused to grant that request, he would immediately leave the kingdom, to which he would never more return; and, before his departure, sacrifice Lord H. B—, son to the Duke of S. A—, who was the only person upon earth who could have betrayed us to my father, because he alone was trusted with the secret of our intended marriage, and had actually undertaken to give me away; an office which he afterwards declined. Lord W— also affirmed, that my father decoyed me into the country with a view of cooping me up, and sequestering me entirely from his view and correspondence.
“My lover, who was more experienced in the world, was nearly driven crazy by this news. He insisted he wouldn’t leave me until I promised to meet and marry him the next day; or, if I refused that request, he would immediately leave the kingdom and never come back. Before he left, he would sacrifice Lord H. B—, the son of the Duke of S. A—, who was the only person on earth that could have betrayed us to my dad because he was the only one trusted with the secret of our planned marriage and had even agreed to give me away, a duty he later backed out of. Lord W— also claimed that my father lured me into the countryside to completely cut me off from his view and correspondence.
“In vain I pleaded my father's well-known tenderness, and used all the arguments I could recollect to divert him from his revenge upon Lord H—. He was deaf to all my representations, and nothing, I found, would prevail upon him to suppress his resentment, but a positive promise to comply with his former desire. I told him I would hazard everything to make him happy; but could not, with any regard to my duty, take such a step without the knowledge of my parent; or, if I were so inclined, it would be impracticable to elude his vigilance and suspicion. However, he employed such pathetic remonstrances, and retained such a powerful advocate within my own breast, that, before we parted, I assured him my whole power should be exerted for his satisfaction; and he signified his resolution of sitting up all night, in expectation of seeing me at his lodgings.
“I pleaded with my father, who was known for his kindness, and used every argument I could think of to change his mind about getting back at Lord H—. He wouldn’t listen to anything I said, and nothing would make him calm down except a firm promise to follow through with his previous wishes. I told him I would risk everything to make him happy; however, I couldn’t, in good conscience, take such a step without my parent's knowledge. Even if I wanted to, it would be impossible to avoid his watchfulness and suspicion. Still, he made such heartfelt appeals and stirred up such strong feelings in me that, before we parted ways, I promised I would do everything in my power to make him happy. He then said he was going to stay up all night, waiting to see me at his place.”
“He had no sooner retired, than I went into the next room, and desired my father to fix a day for the marriage; in which case I would cheerfully wait upon him into the country; whereas, should he deny my request, on pretence of staying for the consent of my mother's relations, which was very uncertain, I would seize the first opportunity of marrying Lord W—, cost what it would. He consented to the match, but would not appoint a day for the ceremony, which he proposed to defer until all parties should be agreed; and such a favourable crisis, I feared, would never happen.
“As soon as he left, I went into the next room and asked my dad to set a date for the wedding. If he did, I’d happily go with him to the countryside; but if he turned me down, using my mom's relatives' consent as an excuse—which was really uncertain—I would take the first chance I got to marry Lord W—, no matter the cost. He agreed to the match but wouldn’t set a date for the ceremony, suggesting we wait until everyone was on board, and I worried that such a perfect moment would never come.”
“I therefore resolved within myself to gratify my lover's expectation, by eloping, if possible, that very night; though the execution of this plan was extremely difficult, because my father was upon the alarm, and my own maid, who was my bedfellow, altogether in his interest. Notwithstanding these considerations, I found means to engage one of the housemaids in my behalf, who bespoke a hackney-coach, to be kept in waiting all night; and to bed I went with my Abigail, whom, as I had not closed an eye, I waked about five in the morning, and sent to pack up some things for our intended journey.
“I decided to go along with my lover's wishes and run away, if I could, that very night. The plan was really tough to pull off because my father was on high alert, and my maid, who shared my bed, was fully on his side. Despite these challenges, I managed to enlist one of the housemaids to help me, and she arranged for a hackney coach to be waiting all night. I went to bed with my maid, and since I hadn't slept a wink, I woke her up around five in the morning and asked her to pack some things for our plans.”
“While she was thus employed, I got up, and huddled on my clothes, standing upon my pillow, lest my father, who lay in the chamber below, should hear me afoot, and suspect my design. Having dressed myself with great despatch and disorder, I flounced downstairs, stalking as heavily as I could tread, that he might mistake me for one of the servants; and my confederate opening the door, I sallied out into the street, though I knew not which way to turn; and, to my unspeakable mortification, neither coach nor chair appeared.
“While she was busy, I got up and quickly put on my clothes, standing on my pillow so my dad, who was sleeping in the room below, wouldn’t hear me moving around and get suspicious. After dressing myself in a hurry and in a messy way, I hurried downstairs, trying to walk as heavily as I could so he would mistake me for one of the servants. My accomplice opened the door, and I rushed out into the street, even though I had no idea which way to go; and to my utter embarrassment, there were no cabs or carriages in sight.”
“Having travelled on foot a good way, in hope of finding a convenience, and being not only disappointed in that particular, but also bewildered in my peregrination, I began to be exceedingly alarmed with the apprehension of being met by some person who might know me; because in that case, my design would undoubtedly have been discovered, from every circumstance of my appearance at that time of day; for I had put on the very clothes which I had pulled off overnight, so that my dress was altogether odd and peculiar. My shoes were very fine, and over a large hoop I wore a pink satin quilted petticoat trimmed with silver, which was partly covered by a white dimity night-gown, a full quarter of a yard too short; my handkerchief and apron were hurried on without pinning; my nightcap could not contain my hair, which hung about my ears in great disorder; and my countenance denoted a mixture of hope and fear, joy and shame.
“After walking for quite a while, hoping to find a place to stop, I was not only disappointed in that but also confused in my journey. I started to feel really anxious at the thought of running into someone who might recognize me. If that happened, they would definitely figure out what I was up to, based on how I looked at that time of day. I had worn the same clothes I took off the night before, so my outfit was completely strange and out of place. My shoes were very nice, and over a large hoop skirt, I had on a pink satin quilted petticoat trimmed with silver, which was partly covered by a white dimity nightgown, a full quarter of a yard too short. My handkerchief and apron were thrown on in a hurry without being pinned; my nightcap couldn’t hold my hair, which was hanging around my ears in a messy way, and my face showed a mix of hope and fear, joy and shame.”
“In this dilemma, I made my addresses to that honourable member of society, a shoe-black, whom I earnestly entreated to provide me with a coach or chair, promising to reward him liberally for his trouble, but he, having the misfortune to be lame, was unable to keep up with my pace; so that by his advice and direction, I went into the first public-house I found open, where I stayed some time, in the utmost consternation, among a crew of wretches whom I thought proper to bribe for their civility, not without the terror of being stripped. At length, however, my messenger returned with a chair, of which I took immediate possession; and fearing that, by this time, my family would be alarmed, and send directly to Lord W—'s lodgings, I ordered myself to be carried thither backwards, that so I might pass undiscovered.
“In this situation, I approached a respectable member of the community, a shoe-shiner, and earnestly asked him to get me a cab or chair, promising to pay him well for his help. However, he was unfortunately lame and couldn't keep up with me. So, following his advice, I went into the first pub I found open, where I spent some time in a state of complete panic, surrounded by a group of people I felt I needed to bribe for their kindness, all while fearing I might get robbed. Eventually, my messenger returned with a chair, which I quickly took. Worrying that my family would be concerned and send word to Lord W—'s place, I instructed to be taken there backwards, so I could sneak in unnoticed.”
“This stratagem succeeded according to my wish; I ran upstairs, in a state of trepidation, to my faithful lover, who waited for me with the most impatient and fearful suspense. At sight of me his eyes lightened with transport: he caught me in his arms, as the richest present Heaven could bestow; gave me to understand that my father had already sent to his lodgings in quest of me; then applauding my love and resolution in the most rapturous terms, he ordered a hackney-coach to be called, and, that we might run no risk of separation, attended me to church, where we were lawfully joined in the sight of Heaven.
“This plan worked out just as I hoped; I hurried upstairs, feeling anxious, to my devoted lover, who was waiting for me with eager and worried anticipation. When he saw me, his eyes sparkled with joy: he embraced me as if I were the greatest gift Heaven could give; he made it clear that my father had already sent someone to his place searching for me; then, praising my love and determination in the most ecstatic way, he had a cab called, and so we wouldn’t risk being apart, he went with me to the church, where we were officially joined in front of Heaven.”
“His fears were then all over, but mine recurred with double aggravation: I dreaded the sight of my father, and shared all the sorrow he suffered on account of my undutiful behaviour; for I loved him with such piety of affection, that I would have endured every other species of distress, rather than given him the least uneasiness; but love, where he reigns in full empire, is altogether irresistible, surmounts every difficulty, and swallows up all other considerations. This was the case with me; and now the irrevocable step was taken, my first care was to avoid his sight. With this view, I begged that Lord W— would think of some remote place in the country, to which we might retire for the present, and he forthwith conducted me to a house on Blackheath, where we were very civilly received by a laughter-loving dame, who seemed to mistake me for one of her own sisterhood. I no sooner perceived her opinion, than I desired Lord W— to undeceive her; upon which she was made acquainted with the nature of my situation, and showed us into a private room, where I called for pen and paper, and wrote an apology to my father, for having acted contrary to his will in so important a concern.
“His fears were gone, but mine came back even stronger: I dreaded seeing my father and felt all the pain he experienced because of my disobedience; I loved him so deeply that I would have faced any other kind of suffering rather than cause him the slightest trouble. But love, when it’s in complete control, is totally unstoppable, overcoming every challenge and overshadowing all other concerns. That was how I felt; and now that the irreversible decision was made, my first priority was to keep out of his sight. To achieve this, I asked Lord W— to think of some far-off place in the countryside where we could hide out for now, and he promptly took me to a house in Blackheath, where we were warmly welcomed by a cheerful lady who seemed to mistake me for one of her own friends. As soon as I understood her misconception, I asked Lord W— to clear things up for her; he informed her of my situation, and she led us to a private room. There, I asked for pen and paper and wrote an apology to my father for having gone against his wishes in such an important matter.”
“This task being performed, the bridegroom gave me to understand, that there was a necessity for our being bedded immediately, in order to render the marriage binding, lest my father should discover and part us before consummation. I pleaded hard for a respite till the evening, objecting to the indecency of going to bed before noon; but he found means to invalidate all my arguments, and to convince me that it was now my duty to obey. Rather than hazard the imputation of being obstinate and refractory on the first day of my probation, I suffered myself to be led into a chamber, which was darkened by my express stipulation, that my shame and confusion might be the better concealed, and yielded to the privilege of a dear husband, who loved me to adoration.
“Once this task was completed, the groom made it clear that we needed to go to bed right away to make the marriage official, in case my father found out and separated us before we could consummate it. I strongly argued for a delay until the evening, saying it was inappropriate to go to bed before noon; but he managed to counter all my points and convinced me that I had to comply. Rather than risk being seen as stubborn and defiant on the first day of my marriage, I allowed myself to be taken into a room, which I insisted on darkening so that my embarrassment and confusion could be better hidden, and I submitted to the attentions of a loving husband who adored me.”
“About five o'clock in the afternoon we were called to dinner, which we had ordered to be ready at four; but such a paltry care had been forgot amidst the transports of our mutual bliss. We got up, however, and when we came downstairs, I was ashamed to see the light of day, or meet the eyes of my beloved lord. I ate little, said less, was happy, though overwhelmed with confusion, underwent a thousand agitations, some of which were painful, but by far the greater part belonged to rapture and delight; we were imparadised in the gratification of our mutual wishes, and felt all that love can bestow, and sensibility enjoy.
“About five o'clock in the afternoon, we were called to dinner, which we had asked to be ready at four; but such a small detail had slipped our minds in the excitement of our happiness. We got up, and when we came downstairs, I felt embarrassed to face the light of day or meet the gaze of my beloved husband. I ate little, said even less, but was happy, despite being overwhelmed with confusion. I experienced a mix of emotions, some of which were painful, but most were filled with joy and delight; we felt like we were in paradise, fulfilling each other's wishes, and enjoying everything that love and sensitivity can offer.
“In the twilight we returned to Lord W—'s lodgings in town, where I received a letter from my father, importing that he would never see me again. But there was one circumstance in his manner of writing, from which I conceived a happy presage of his future indulgence. He had begun with his usual appellation of 'Dear Fanny,' which, though it was expunged to make way for the word 'Madam,' encouraged me to hope that his paternal fondness was not yet extinguished.
“In the evening, we went back to Lord W—'s place in town, where I got a letter from my father saying he would never see me again. However, there was one thing in the way he wrote that made me feel hopeful about his future kindness. He started with his usual greeting of 'Dear Fanny,' which, although it was crossed out for 'Madam,' made me think that his fatherly affection wasn’t completely gone.”
“At supper we were visited by Lord W—'s younger sister, who laughed at us for our inconsiderate match, though she owned she envied our happiness, and offered me the use of her clothes until I could retrieve my own. She was a woman of a great deal of humour, plain but genteel, civil, friendly, and perfectly well bred. She favoured us with her company till the night was pretty far advanced, and did not take her leave till we retired to our apartment.
“At dinner, we were joined by Lord W—'s younger sister, who teased us for our thoughtless match, although she admitted she envied our happiness and offered me the use of her clothes until I could get my own back. She was a woman full of humor, plain but stylish, polite, friendly, and very well-mannered. She stayed with us until late into the night and didn’t leave until we headed to our room.”
“As our lodgings were not spacious or magnificent, we resolved to see little company; but this resolution was frustrated by the numerous acquaintance of Lord W—, who let in half the town: so that I ran the gauntlet for a whole week among a set of wits, who always delight in teasing a young creature of any note, when she happens to make such a stolen match. Among those that visited us upon this occasion was my lord's younger brother, who was at that time in keeping with a rich heiress of masculine memory, and took that opportunity of making a parade with his equipage, which was indeed very magnificent, but altogether disregarded by us, whose happiness consisted in the opulence of mutual love.
“As our place wasn’t big or fancy, we decided to see few people; but that plan was ruined by Lord W—’s many friends, who brought half the town in. So, I endured a whole week with a group of people who love to tease a young woman of any significance when she makes a secret match. Among those who visited us was my lord's younger brother, who was then involved with a wealthy heiress and used the chance to show off his impressive carriage, which was indeed quite extravagant, but we ignored it, as our happiness came from our shared love.”
“This ceremony of receiving visits being performed, we went to wait on his mother, the duchess of H—, who, hearing I was an heiress, readily forgave her son for marrying without her knowledge and consent, and favoured us with a very cordial reception; insomuch, that for several months, we dined almost constantly at her table; and I must own, I always found her unaltered in her civility and affection, contrary to her general character, which was haughty and capricious. She was undoubtedly a woman of great spirit and understanding, but subject to an infirmity which very much impairs and disguises every other qualification.
“This visit ceremony done, we went to see his mother, the duchess of H—, who, upon hearing I was an heiress, quickly forgave her son for marrying without her knowledge or consent, and welcomed us very warmly; so much so that for several months, we dined at her table almost every day. I must admit, I always found her consistently polite and affectionate, which was surprising given her usual reputation for being haughty and unpredictable. She was undoubtedly a woman of great spirit and intelligence but suffered from a flaw that greatly undermined and masked her other qualities.”
“In about three weeks after our marriage, I was so happy as to obtain the forgiveness of my father, to whose house we repaired, in order to pay our respects and submission. At sight of me he wept; nor did I behold his tears unmoved. My heart was overcharged with tenderness and sorrow, for having offended such an indulgent parent; so that I mingled my tears with his, while my dear husband, whose soul was of the softest and gentlest mould, melted with sympathy at the affecting scene. Being thus reconciled to my father, we attended him into the country, where we were received by my mother, who was a sensible good woman, though not susceptible to love, and therefore less apt to excuse a weakness to which she was an utter stranger. This was likewise the case with an uncle, from whom I had great expectations. He was a plain good-natured man, and treated us with great courtesy, though his notions, in point of love, were not exactly conformable to ours. Nevertheless, I was, and seemed to be so happy in my choice, that my family not only became satisfied with the match, but exceedingly fond of Lord W—.
“In about three weeks after we got married, I was so happy to gain my father's forgiveness, so we went to his house to show our respect and humility. When he saw me, he cried; I couldn't help but cry too. My heart was heavy with tenderness and sorrow for having upset such a caring parent, so I mixed my tears with his, while my dear husband, who was the sweetest and gentlest person, felt deeply sympathetic in that emotional moment. Once we were reconciled with my father, we went with him to the countryside, where my mother, a sensible and good-hearted woman, welcomed us. However, she wasn't very sentimental and was less likely to excuse a weakness she didn't understand. This was also true for an uncle from whom I had high hopes. He was an honest, good-natured man who treated us kindly, even though his ideas about love didn't match ours. Still, I was, and appeared to be, so happy with my choice that my family not only accepted the match but also grew very fond of Lord W—."
“After a short stay with them in the country, we returned to London, in order to be introduced at court, and then set out for the north, on a visit to my brother-in-law the duke of H—, who had, by a letter to Lord W—, invited us to his habitation. My father accordingly equipped us with horses and money; for our own finances were extremely slender, consisting only of a small pension, allowed by his grace, upon whom the brothers were entirely dependent, the father having died suddenly, before suitable provision could be made for his younger children.
“After a short visit with them in the countryside, we returned to London to be introduced at court, and then set off for the north to visit my brother-in-law, the Duke of H—, who had invited us to his home in a letter to Lord W—. My father equipped us with horses and money because our own finances were very limited, consisting only of a small pension provided by his grace, whom the brothers were completely reliant on since their father had passed away unexpectedly before proper arrangements could be made for his younger children.”
“When I took leave of my relations, bidding adieu to my paternal home, and found myself launching into a world of care and trouble, though the voyage on which I embarked was altogether voluntary, and my companion the person on whom I doted to distraction,—I could not help feeling some melancholy sensations, which, however, in a little time, gave way to a train of more agreeable ideas. I was visited in town by almost all the women of fashion, many of whom, I perceived, envied me the possession of a man who had made strange havoc among their hearts, and some of them knew the value of his favour. One in particular endeavoured to cultivate my friendship with singular marks of regard; but I thought proper to discourage her advances, by keeping within the bounds of bare civility; and, indeed, to none of them was I lavish of my complaisance; for I dedicated my whole time to the object of my affection, who engrossed my wishes to such a degree, that, although I was never jealous, because I had no reason to be so, I envied the happiness of every woman whom he chanced at any time to hand into a coach.
"When I said goodbye to my family and left my childhood home, stepping into a world full of worries and challenges, even though the journey I was taking was entirely my choice and my companion was the person I adored obsessively, I couldn’t help but feel some sadness. However, that feeling soon faded, giving way to more pleasant thoughts. Almost all the fashionable women in town visited me, many of whom seemed to envy me for being with a man who had caused quite a stir in their hearts, and some understood the value of his attention. One woman in particular tried hard to win my friendship with special gestures, but I decided to keep her at a distance by sticking to basic politeness. In fact, I wasn’t overly friendly with any of them, since I devoted all my time to the one I loved. He occupied my thoughts to such an extent that, although I was never jealous—because I had no reason to be—I couldn’t help but envy the happiness of any woman he happened to assist into a carriage."
“The duchess of —, who was newly married to the earl of P—, a particular friend of Lord W—'s, carried me to court, and presented me to the queen, who expressed her approbation of my person in very particular terms, and, observing the satisfaction that appeared in my countenance, with marks of admiration, desired her ladies to take notice, how little happiness depended upon wealth, since there was more joy in my face than in all her court besides.
“The Duchess of —, who was newly married to the Earl of P—, a close friend of Lord W—, brought me to court and introduced me to the queen. She complimented my looks in very specific terms and, noticing the happiness on my face, with signs of admiration, asked her ladies to take note of how little happiness relied on wealth, since there was more joy in my expression than in all of her court combined.”
“Such a declaration could not fail to overwhelm me with blushes, which her Majesty seemed to behold with pleasure; for she frequently repeated the remark, and showed me to all the foreigners of distinction, with many gracious expressions of favour. She wished Lord W— happiness instead of joy, and was pleased to promise, that she would provide for her pretty beggars. And poor enough we certainly were in every article but love. Nevertheless, we felt no necessities, but passed the summer in a variety of pleasures and parties; the greatest part of which were planned by Lord W—'s sister and another lady, who was at that time mistress to the prime minister. The first was a wit, but homely in person; the other a woman of great beauty and masculine understanding; and a particular friendship subsisted between them, though they were both lovers of power and admiration.
“Such a declaration couldn’t help but make me blush, which her Majesty seemed to enjoy watching; she often repeated the comment and introduced me to all the distinguished foreigners, showering me with compliments. She wished Lord W— happiness instead of joy and kindly promised that she would look after her lovely beggars. And we were certainly poor in every way except for love. Still, we didn’t feel any lack and spent the summer enjoying various pleasures and gatherings, most of which were organized by Lord W—'s sister and another lady who was then involved with the prime minister. The first was witty but not very attractive, while the other was stunningly beautiful and had a strong intellect; they shared a close friendship despite both being ambitious for power and admiration.”
“This lady, who sat at the helm, was extremely elegant, as well as expensive in her diversions, in many of which we bore a share, particularly in her parties upon the water, which were contrived in all the magnificence of taste. In the course of these amusements, a trifling circumstance occurred, which I shall relate as an instance of that jealous sensibility which characterised Lord W—'s disposition. A large company of ladies and gentlemen having agreed to dine at Vauxhall, and sup at Marble-hall, where we proposed to conclude the evening with a dance, one barge being insufficient to contain the whole company, we were divided by lots; in consequence of which, my husband and I were parted. This separation was equally mortifying to us both, who, though married, were still lovers; and my chagrin increased when I perceived that I was doomed to sit by Sir W. Y—, a man of professed gallantry; for, although Lord W— had, before his marriage, made his addresses to every woman he saw, I knew very well he did not desire that any person should make love to his wife.
“This lady, who was in charge, was very classy and had expensive tastes in her activities, many of which we participated in, especially her parties on the water, which were planned with great style. During these events, a small incident happened that I’ll share as an example of the jealous sensitivity that defined Lord W—'s personality. A large group of ladies and gentlemen planned to have dinner at Vauxhall and then go to Marble-hall for supper, where we intended to end the night with a dance. Since one boat wasn't enough to hold the entire group, we were divided by drawing lots, which meant my husband and I had to part ways. This separation was upsetting for both of us, as we were still very much in love despite being married. My frustration grew when I realized I was stuck sitting next to Sir W. Y—, a man known for his flirtations; because even though Lord W— had flirted with every woman he saw before our marriage, I knew he didn’t want anyone else hitting on his wife.”
“That I might not, therefore, give umbrage, by talking to this gallant, I conversed with a Scotch nobleman, who, according to common report, had formerly sighed among my admirers. By these means, in seeking to avoid one error, I unwittingly plunged myself into a greater, and disobliged Lord W— so much, that he could not conceal his displeasure; nay, so deeply was he offended at my conduct, that, in the evening, when the ball began, he would scarce deign to take me by the hand in the course of dancing, and darted such unkind looks, as pierced me to the very soul. What augmented my concern, was my ignorance of the trespass I had committed. I was tortured with a thousand uneasy reflections; I began to fear that I had mistaken his temper, and given my heart to a man who was tired of possession; though I resolved to bear without complaining the misfortune I had entailed upon myself.
“To avoid offending this gentleman, I chatted with a Scottish nobleman who, according to popular belief, had previously been one of my admirers. In trying to dodge one mistake, I inadvertently got myself into a bigger one and upset Lord W— to the point where he couldn’t hide his displeasure. He was so hurt by my actions that at the ball that evening, he barely acknowledged me while we were dancing and gave me such harsh looks that they pierced my very soul. What added to my distress was my lack of understanding about what I had done wrong. I was tormented by a thousand anxious thoughts; I started to worry that I had misread his feelings and committed myself to a man who was no longer interested. Still, I resolved to endure this misfortune without complaining."
“I seized the first opportunity of speaking to him, and thereby discovered the cause of his chagrin; but, as there was no time for expostulation, the misunderstanding continued on his side, with such evident marks of uneasiness, that every individual of the company made up to me, and inquired about the cause of his disorder; so that I was fain to amuse their concern, by saying, that he had been ill the day before, and dancing did not agree with his constitution. So much was he incensed by this unhappy circumstance of my conduct, which was void of all intention to offend him, that he determined to be revenged on me for my indiscretion, and at supper, chancing to sit between two very handsome ladies, one of whom is lately dead, and the other, at present, my neighbour in the country, he affected an air of gaiety, and openly coquetted with them both.
“I took the first chance to talk to him and discovered why he was upset; however, since there was no time to explain, he continued to misunderstand me, showing clear signs of discomfort. Everyone in the group came up to me and asked what was wrong with him, so I had to ease their worry by saying he had been sick the day before and dancing didn’t suit him. He was so upset by my actions, which I didn’t mean to offend him with, that he decided to get back at me for my thoughtlessness. At dinner, sitting between two beautiful ladies—one of whom has recently passed away and the other is currently my neighbor in the country—he pretended to be cheerful and flirted with both of them openly.”
“This was not the only punishment he inflicted on his innocent wife. In the course of our entertainment, we engaged in some simple diversion, in consequence of which the gentlemen were ordered to salute the ladies; when Lord W—, in performing this command, unkindly neglected me in my turn; I had occasion for all my discretion and pride, to conceal from the company the agonies I felt at this mark of indifference and disrespect. However, I obtained the victory over myself, and pretended to laugh at his husband-like behaviour, while the tears stood in my eyes and my heart swelled even to bursting.
“This wasn’t the only punishment he imposed on his innocent wife. During our gathering, we participated in some lighthearted fun, which led to the gentlemen being asked to greet the ladies. When Lord W— was carrying this out, he cruelly overlooked me. I had to summon all my composure and pride to hide the pain I felt at this show of indifference and disrespect. Still, I managed to control myself and pretended to laugh at his husband-like behavior, even though tears were brimming in my eyes and my heart felt like it was going to burst.”
“We broke up about five, after having spent the most tedious evening I had ever known; and this offended lover went to bed in a state of sullen silence and disgust. Whatever desire I had to come to an explanation, I thought myself so much aggrieved by his unreasonable prejudice, that I could not prevail upon myself to demand a conference, till after his first nap, when my pride giving way to my tenderness, I clasped him in my arms, though he pretended to discourage these advances of my love. I asked how he could be so unjust as to take umbrage at my civility to a man whom he knew I had refused for his sake; I chid him for his barbarous endeavours to awake my jealousy, and used such irresistible arguments in my own vindication, that he was convinced of my innocence, scaled my acquittal with a kind embrace, and we mutually enjoyed the soft transports of a fond reconciliation.
“We broke up around five, after enduring the most boring evening I've ever had; and this upset lover went to bed feeling silent and disgusted. Despite my desire to talk things over, I felt so wronged by his unreasonable jealousy that I couldn't bring myself to ask for a discussion until after his first nap. When my pride finally gave in to my affection, I wrapped my arms around him, even though he pretended to push my advances away. I asked how he could be so unfair as to be upset about my politeness towards a man he knew I had turned down for his sake. I scolded him for trying to stir up my jealousy and presented such convincing arguments for my innocence that he became convinced, embraced me warmly in relief, and we both enjoyed the sweet moments of a loving reconciliation.
“Never was passion more eager, delicate, or unreserved, than that which glowed within our breasts. Far from being cloyed with the possession of each other, our raptures seemed to increase with the term of our union. When we were separated, though but for a few hours, by the necessary avocations of life, we were unhappy during that brief separation, and met again like lovers, who knew no joy but in one another's presence. How many delicious evenings did we spend together, in our little apartment, after we had ordered the candles to be taken away, that we might enjoy the agreeable reflection of the moon in a fine summer's evening! Such a mild and solemn scene naturally disposes the mind to peace and benevolence; but when improved with conversation of the man one loves, it fills the imagination with ideas of ineffable delight! For my own part, I can safely say, my heart was so wholly engrossed by my husband, that I never took pleasure in any diversion where he was not personally concerned; nor was I ever guilty of one thought repugnant to my duty and my love.
“Never was passion more intense, delicate, or genuine than the love that burned within us. Instead of growing tired of having each other, our joy seemed to deepen with the length of our time together. When we were apart, even for just a few hours due to life's demands, we felt unhappy during that short separation and reunited like lovers who found joy only in each other’s presence. How many wonderful evenings did we share in our little apartment, after we decided to turn off the candles so we could enjoy the lovely glow of the moon on a beautiful summer night! Such a calm and solemn setting naturally encourages feelings of peace and kindness; but when enhanced by conversations with the one you love, it fills the mind with thoughts of indescribable happiness! For my part, I can honestly say that my heart was completely devoted to my husband, and I never found joy in any activity that he wasn’t a part of; nor did I ever entertain a thought that went against my duty and my love.”
“In the autumn, we set out for the north, and were met on the road by the duke and twenty gentlemen, who conducted us to H—n, where we lived in all imaginable splendour. His grace, at that time, maintained above a hundred servants, with a band of music, which always performed at dinner, kept open table, and was visited by a great deal of company. The economy of his house was superintended by his eldest sister, a beautiful young lady of an amiable temper, with whom I soon contracted an intimate friendship. She and the duke used to rally me upon my fondness for Lord W—, who was a sort of humourist, and apt to be in a pet, in which case he would leave the company and go to bed by seven o'clock in the evening. On these occasions, I always disappeared, giving up every consideration to that of pleasing my husband, notwithstanding the ridicule of his relations, who taxed me with having spoiled him with too much indulgence. But how could I express too much tenderness and condescension for a man, who doted upon me to such excess, that, when business obliged him to leave me, he always snatched the first opportunity to return, and often rode through darkness, storms, and tempests to my arms?
“In the autumn, we headed north and were met on the road by the duke and twenty gentlemen, who took us to H—n, where we lived in every possible luxury. At that time, he had over a hundred servants, with a band that played during dinner, kept an open table, and entertained many guests. The household was managed by his oldest sister, a lovely young woman with a pleasant demeanor, and we quickly became close friends. She and the duke would tease me about my affection for Lord W—, who was somewhat of a character and could get moody, often leaving the company to go to bed by seven o'clock in the evening. During those times, I would always vanish, putting aside everything to please my husband, despite the jokes from his relatives, who accused me of spoiling him with too much leniency. But how could I show him anything less than excessive love and kindness for a man who adored me so much that whenever work forced him to leave me, he would always seize the first chance to come back, often riding through darkness, storms, and tempests to reach me?”
“Having stayed about seven months in this place, I found myself in a fair way of being a mother, and that I might be near my own relations in such an interesting situation, I and my dear companion departed from H—n, not without great reluctance; for I was fond of the Scots in general, who treated me with great hospitality and respect; and to this day, they paid me the compliment of saying, I was one of the best wives in that country which is so justly celebrated for good women.
“After spending about seven months in this place, I found myself on the verge of becoming a mother. Since I could be close to my own family during such an important time, my dear companion and I left H—n, though not without great reluctance. I had grown fond of the Scots in general, who treated me with wonderful hospitality and respect. Even now, they still compliment me by saying I was one of the best wives in a country known for having great women.”
“Lord W— having attended me to my father's house, was obliged to return to Scotland, to support his interest in being elected member of Parliament; so that he took his leave of me, with a full resolution of seeing me again before the time of my lying-in; and all the comfort I enjoyed in his absence, was the perusal of his letters, which I punctually received, together with those of his sister, who, from time to time, favoured me with assurances of his constancy and devotion. Indeed, these testimonials were necessary to one of my disposition; for I was none of those who could be contented with half a heart. I could not even spare one complacent look to any other woman, but expected the undivided homage of his love. Had I been disappointed in this expectation, I should, though a wife, have rebelled or died.
“Lord W— escorted me to my father's house and had to return to Scotland to pursue his goal of being elected as a member of Parliament. He said goodbye with the firm intention of seeing me again before I gave birth. The only comfort I had during his absence was reading his letters, which I always received, along with those from his sister, who occasionally reassured me of his loyalty and devotion. Honestly, I needed those reassurances; I wasn't the type of person who could settle for anything less than a whole heart. I couldn’t even spare a friendly glance at any other woman and expected his love completely. If I had been let down by that expectation, I would have rebelled or felt like I was dying, even as a wife.”
“Meanwhile my parents treated me with great tenderness, intending that Lord W— should be settled in a house of his own, and accommodated with my fortune, and his expectations from the queen were very sanguine, when I was taken ill, and delivered of a dead child, an event which affected me extremely. When I understood the extent of my misfortune, my heart throbbed with such violence, that my breast could scarce contain it; and my anxiety, being aggravated by the absence of my lord, produced a dangerous fever, of which he was no sooner apprised by letter, than he came post from Scotland; but, before his arrival, I was supposed to be in a fair way.
“Meanwhile, my parents treated me with great care, hoping that Lord W— would settle into a home of his own and benefit from my fortune. His expectations from the queen were quite optimistic when I fell ill and had a stillborn child, which deeply affected me. When I realized the full extent of my misfortune, my heart raced so violently that I felt like I couldn’t contain it; my anxiety, made worse by my lord's absence, led to a serious fever. As soon as he heard about it through a letter, he rushed down from Scotland; however, by the time he arrived, I was thought to be recovering.”
“During this journey, he was tortured with all that terrible suspense which prevails in the minds of those who are in danger of losing that which is most dear to them; and, when he entered the house, was so much overwhelmed with apprehension, that he durst not inquire about the state of my health. As for my part, I never closed an eye from the time on which I expected his return; and, when I heard his voice, I threw open my curtains, and sat up in the bed to receive him, though at the hazard of my life. He ran towards me with all the eagerness of passion, and clasped me in his arms; he kneeled by the bedside, and kissed my hand a thousand times, and wept with transports of tenderness and joy. In short, this meeting was so pathetic as to overcome my enfeebled constitution, and we were parted by those who were wiser than ourselves, and saw that nothing was so proper for us as a little repose.
“During this journey, he was tormented by the terrible anxiety that consumes those who fear losing what they hold dearest; and when he entered the house, he was so filled with dread that he didn’t dare to ask about my health. As for me, I didn’t sleep a wink from the moment I expected his return; and when I heard his voice, I threw open my curtains and sat up in bed to greet him, even at the risk of my life. He rushed towards me with the eagerness of love, wrapped me in his arms, knelt by the bedside, kissed my hand a thousand times, and wept with overwhelming tenderness and joy. In short, this reunion was so emotional that it nearly overwhelmed my fragile state, and we were separated by those who cared more for us than we did for ourselves, who realized that what we needed most was a little rest.”
“But how shall I relate the deplorable transition from envied happiness to excess of misery which I now sustained! My month was hardly up, when my dear husband was taken ill; perhaps the fatigue of body, as well as mind, which he had undergone on my account, occasioned a fatal ferment in his blood, and his health fell a sacrifice to his love. Physicians were called from London, but alas! they brought no hopes of his recovery. By their advice, he was removed to town, for the convenience of being punctually attended. Every moment was too precious to be thrown away; he was therefore immediately put into the coach, though the day was far spent; and I, though exceedingly weak, accompanied him in the journey, which was performed by the light of flambeaus, and rendered unspeakingly shocking by the dismal apprehension of losing him every moment.
“But how do I describe the heartbreaking shift from a life of happiness to overwhelming misery that I'm experiencing now? My month of joy was barely over when my dear husband fell ill. Maybe the physical and mental stress he endured for my sake caused a dangerous reaction in his blood, and his health suffered because of his love for me. Doctors were called from London, but unfortunately, they offered no hope for his recovery. Following their advice, he was moved to the city for better care. Every moment was too valuable to waste; so he was quickly put into the carriage, even though it was late in the day. I, despite feeling very weak, joined him on the journey, which was lit by torches and made unbearably terrifying by the constant fear of losing him at any moment.
“At length, however, we arrived at our lodgings in Pall Mall, where I lay by him on the floor, and attended the issue of his distemper in all the agonies of horror and despair. In a little time his malady settled upon his brain, and, in his delirium, he uttered such dreadful exclamations, as were sufficient to pierce the most savage heart. What effect then must they have had on mine, which was fraught with every sentiment of the most melting affection! It was not a common grief that took possession of my soul; I felt all the aggravation of the most acute distress. I sometimes ran down the street in a fit of distraction: I sent for the doctors every minute: I wearied Heaven with my prayers; even now my heart aches at the remembrance of what I suffered, and I cannot, without trembling, proceed with the woeful story.
“At last, we reached our place to stay in Pall Mall, where I lay next to him on the floor, anxiously watching the outcome of his illness in all the horror and despair I felt. Soon, his sickness affected his mind, and in his delirium, he cried out with such terrifying intensity that it could chill the most brutal heart. What did that do to my heart, which was filled with deep love? It wasn't just ordinary sadness that consumed me; I felt the full weight of extreme distress. Sometimes, I would run down the street in a panic: I called for doctors every few minutes: I burdened Heaven with my prayers; even now, my heart aches just thinking about what I endured, and I can't continue this sad tale without shaking.”
“After having lain insensible some days, he recovered the use of speech, and called upon my name, which he had a thousand times repeated while he was bereft of reason. All hopes of his life were now relinquished, and I was led to his bedside to receive his last adieus, being directed to summon all my fortitude, and suppress my sorrow, that he might not be disturbed by my agitation. I collected all my resolution to support me in this affecting scene. I saw my dear lord in extremity. The beauties of his youth were all decayed; yet his eyes, though languid, retained unspeakable sweetness and expression. He felt his end approaching, put forth his hand, and, with a look full of complacency and benevolence, uttered such a tender tale—good Heaven! how had I deserved such accumulated affliction, the bare remembrance of which now melts me into tears? Human nature could not undergo my situation without suffering an ecstasy of grief. I clasped him in my arms, and kissed him a thousand times, with the most violent emotions of woe; but I was torn from his embrace, and in a little time he was ravished for ever from my view.
“After lying unconscious for a few days, he regained the ability to speak and called my name, which he had repeated a thousand times during his delirium. Everyone had given up hope for his recovery, and I was brought to his bedside to hear his final goodbyes, advised to gather all my strength and hide my sorrow so that I wouldn’t disturb him with my distress. I summoned every ounce of courage to face this heartbreaking moment. I saw my dear lord at death’s door. The beauty of his youth was gone, yet his eyes, though weary, still held an indescribable sweetness and expression. He sensed his time was near, reached out his hand, and with a look full of kindness and warmth, shared such a tender story—good heavens! How had I deserved such overwhelming sorrow, the mere thought of which now brings me to tears? No one could bear my situation without experiencing intense grief. I held him tightly in my arms and kissed him a thousand times, overwhelmed by deep sorrow; but I was pulled from his embrace, and soon after, he was lost to me forever.
“On that fatal morning, which put a period to his life, I saw the duchess of L— approach my bed, and, from her appearance, concluded that he was no more; yet I begged she would not confirm the unhappy presage by announcing his death; and she accordingly preserved the most emphatic silence. I got up, and trod softly over his head, as if I had been afraid of interrupting his repose. Alas! he was no longer sensible of such disturbance. I was seized with a stupefaction of sorrow; I threw up the window and, looking around, thought the sun shone with the most dismal aspect; everything was solitary, cheerless, and replete with horror.
“On that fateful morning, which marked the end of his life, I saw the duchess of L— approach my bed, and based on her expression, I concluded that he was gone; still, I asked her not to confirm my dreadful suspicion by announcing his death, and she kept the most profound silence. I got up and stepped carefully over his head, as if I were worried about disturbing his rest. Sadly, he was no longer aware of such disturbances. I was overwhelmed with a numbing sorrow; I opened the window and, looking around, thought the sun appeared to shine with the most depressing brightness; everything felt lonely, bleak, and filled with dread.”
“In this condition I was, by the direction of my friend, conveyed to her house, where my faculties were so overpowered by the load of anguish which oppressed me, that I know not what passed during the first days of my unhappy widowhood; this only I know, the kind duchess treated me with all imaginable care and compassion, and carried me to her country house, where I stayed some months; during which, she endeavoured to comfort me with all the amusements she could invent, and laid me under such obligations as shall never be erased from my remembrance. Yet, notwithstanding all her care and concern, I was, by my excess of grief, plunged into a languishing distemper, for which my physicians advised me to drink the Bath waters.
“In this state, my friend had me taken to her house, where I was so overwhelmed by the weight of my sorrow that I can't remember what happened during the first days of my unhappy widowhood. All I know is that the kind duchess treated me with every kind of care and compassion and took me to her country house, where I stayed for several months. During that time, she tried to comfort me with all the entertainment she could think of, and I owe her a debt of gratitude that will never fade from my memory. However, despite all her care and concern, my overwhelming grief led me to a lingering illness, for which my doctors recommended that I drink the Bath waters.”
“In compliance with this prescription, I went thither towards the end of summer, and found some benefit by adhering to their directions. Though I seldom went abroad, except when I visited my sister-in-law, who was there with the princess; and, upon these occasions, I never failed to attract the notice of the company, who were struck with the appearance of such a young creature in weeds. Nor was I free from the persecution of professed admirers; but, being dead to all joy, I was deaf to the voice of adulation.
“In line with this prescription, I went there toward the end of summer and found some benefit in following their advice. Even though I rarely went out, except when I visited my sister-in-law, who was there with the princess, I always managed to draw attention from the company, who were taken aback by the sight of such a young person in mourning. I also faced the harassment of open admirers, but since I felt numb to all joy, I was deaf to their compliments.”
“About Christmas I repaired to my father's house, where my sorrows were revived by every object that recalled the idea of my dear lamented lord. But these melancholy reflections I was obliged to bear, because I had no other home or habitation, being left an unprovided widow, altogether dependent on the affection of my own family. During this winter, divers overtures were made to my father by people who demanded me in marriage; but my heart was not yet sufficiently weaned from my former passion to admit the thoughts of another master. Among those that presented their proposals was a certain young nobleman, who, upon the first news of Lord W—'s death, came post from Paris, in order to declare his passion. He made his first appearance in a hired chariot-and-six, accompanied by a big fat fellow, whom (as I afterwards learned) he had engaged to sound his praises, with a promise of a thousand pounds, in lieu of which he paid him forty. Whether it was with a view of screening himself from the cold, or of making a comfortable medium in case of being overturned, and falling under his weighty companion, I know not; but, certain it is, the carriage was stuffed with hay, in such a manner, that, when he arrived, the servants were at some pains in rummaging and removing it, before they could come at their master, or help him to alight. When he was lifted out of the chariot, he exhibited a very ludicrous figure to the view. He was a thin, meagre, shivering creature, of a low stature, with little black eyes, a long nose, sallow complexion, and pitted with the smallpox; dressed in a coat of light brown frieze, lined with pink-coloured shag, a monstrous solitaire and bag, and, if I remember right, a pair of huge jack-boots. In a word, his whole appearance was so little calculated for inspiring love, that I had, on the strength of seeing him once before at Oxford, set him down as the last man on earth whom I would choose to wed; and I will venture to affirm, that he was in every particular the reverse of my late husband.
“During Christmas, I went to my father’s house, where my sadness was brought back by everything that reminded me of my dear, lost husband. I had to endure these sorrowful thoughts because I had no other place to go, being left as an unprovided widow, completely relying on my family’s support. That winter, several proposals for my hand in marriage came to my father; however, my heart wasn’t ready to let go of my past love and consider another husband. One of the suitors was a young nobleman who hurried from Paris as soon as he heard about Lord W—'s death to express his feelings for me. He arrived in a hired fancy carriage, accompanied by a large man whom, as I later found out, he had paid to sing his praises for a thousand pounds, but actually gave him only forty. I’m not sure if he stuffed the carriage with hay to stay warm or to cushion himself if he were to fall under the weight of his large companion, but the carriage was packed with hay so much that when they arrived, the servants had to dig through it to help him out. When he was finally lifted out of the carriage, he looked quite ridiculous. He was a skinny, shivering little guy with beady black eyes, a long nose, a sallow complexion, and pockmarked skin from smallpox. He wore a light brown frieze coat lined with pink shag, a huge solitaire and bag, and if I remember correctly, a pair of massive jack-boots. In short, his entire appearance was not at all appealing, and having seen him once before at Oxford, I had already decided he was the last person I would ever choose to marry; I can confidently say he was the complete opposite of my late husband.”
“As my father was not at home, he stayed but one evening, and left his errand with my mother, to whom he was as disagreeable as to myself; so that his proposal was absolutely rejected, and I heard no more of him during the space of three whole months, at the expiration of which I went to town, where this mortifying figure presented itself again, and renewed his suit, offering such advantageous terms of settlement, that my father began to relish the match, and warmly recommended it to my consideration.
“As my dad wasn’t home, he only stayed for one evening and left his business with my mom, who found him as unpleasant as I did. So, his offer was completely turned down, and I didn’t hear from him for three whole months. After that, I went to town, where this embarrassing guy showed up again and renewed his offer, presenting such attractive terms that my dad started to like the idea of the match and enthusiastically suggested I consider it.”
“Lord W—'s relations advised me to embrace the opportunity of making myself independent. All my acquaintance plied me with arguments to the same purpose. I was uneasy at home, and indifferent to all mankind. I weighed the motives with the objections, and with reluctance yielded to the importunity of my friends. In consequence of this determination, the little gentleman was permitted to visit me; and the manner of his address did not alter the opinion I had conceived of his character and understanding. I was even shocked at the prospect of marrying a man whom I could not love; and, in order to disburden my own conscience, took an opportunity of telling him, one evening, as we sat opposite to each other, that it was not in my power to command my affection, and therefore he could not expect the possession of my heart, Lord W—'s indulgence having spoiled me for a wife; nevertheless, I would endeavour to contract a friendship for him, which would entirely depend upon his own behaviour.
“Lord W—'s family encouraged me to take the chance to become independent. All my friends bombarded me with reasons to do the same. I felt restless at home and indifferent to everyone around me. I weighed the pros and cons, and reluctantly gave in to my friends' insistence. Because of this decision, the little gentleman was allowed to visit me; and his manner of speaking didn't change my opinion of his character and intelligence. I was even disturbed by the idea of marrying someone I couldn’t love, and to ease my own conscience, I took the opportunity one evening, as we sat facing each other, to tell him that I couldn’t force my feelings and so he couldn’t expect my heart, since Lord W—'s kindness had made it hard for me to be a wife; still, I would try to build a friendship with him, which would completely depend on how he behaved.
“To this declaration he replied, to my great surprise, that he did not desire me to love him; my friendship was sufficient; and next day repeated this strange instance of moderation in a letter, which I communicated to my sister, who laughed heartily at the contents, and persuaded me, that since I could love no man, he was the properest person to be my husband.
“To this declaration, he surprisingly replied that he didn’t want me to love him; his friendship was enough. The next day, he reiterated this odd display of restraint in a letter, which I shared with my sister. She laughed heartily at what it said and convinced me that, since I couldn’t love any man, he was the best person to be my husband.”
“Accordingly, the wedding clothes and equipage being prepared, the day—the fatal day—was fixed; on the morning of which I went to the house of my brother-in-law, duke H—, who loved me tenderly, and took my leave of the family, a family which I shall always remember with love, honour, and esteem. His grace received me in the most affectionate manner, saying at parting, 'Lady W—, if he does not use you well, I will take you back again.'”
“Once the wedding clothes and preparations were ready, the day—the fateful day—was set. On that morning, I went to my brother-in-law, Duke H—’s house, who cared for me deeply, and said goodbye to the family, a family I will always remember with love, honor, and respect. His grace welcomed me warmly and said as we parted, 'Lady W—, if he doesn’t treat you right, I’ll take you back.'”
“The bridegroom and I met at Ox— Chapel, where the ceremony was performed by the bishop of W—, in presence of his lordship's mother, my father, and another lady. The nuptial knot being tied, we set out for my father's house in the country, and proceeded full twenty miles on our journey before my lord opened his mouth, my thoughts having been all that time employed on something quite foreign to my present situation; for I was then but a giddy girl of eighteen. At length my father broke silence, and clapping his lordship on the shoulder, told him he was but a dull bridegroom; upon which my lord gave him to understand that he was out of spirits. This dejection continued all the day, notwithstanding the refreshment of a plentiful dinner which he ate upon the road; and in the evening we arrived at the place of our destination, where we were kindly received by my mother, though she had no liking to the match; and, after supper, we retired to our apartment.
“The bridegroom and I met at Ox-Chapel, where the ceremony was conducted by the bishop of W—, in the presence of his lordship's mother, my father, and another lady. Once the nuptial knot was tied, we set off for my father's house in the country, traveling twenty miles before my lord spoke. During that time, my thoughts were completely occupied with things unrelated to my current situation; after all, I was just a dizzy eighteen-year-old. Finally, my father broke the silence and jokingly told his lordship that he was a dull bridegroom. To this, my lord indicated that he was feeling low. This sadness lasted throughout the day, even after enjoying a hearty dinner along the way; and by evening, we arrived at our destination, where my mother welcomed us, despite her disapproval of the match. After supper, we retired to our room.”
“It was here that I had occasion to perceive the most disagreeable contrast between my present helpmate and my former lord. Instead of flying to my arms with all the eagerness of love and rapture, this manly representative sat moping in a corner, like a criminal on execution day, and owned he was ashamed to bed with a woman whose hand he had scarce ever touched.
“It was here that I realized the most unpleasant contrast between my current partner and my former master. Instead of rushing into my arms with all the excitement of love and joy, this manly figure sat sulking in a corner, like a criminal on execution day, and admitted he felt ashamed to sleep with a woman whose hand he had barely ever touched."
“I could not help being affected with this pusillanimous behaviour. I remembered Lord W—, while I surveyed the object before me, and made such a comparison as filled me with horror and disgust: nay, to such a degree did my aversion to this phantom prevail, that I began to sweat with anguish at the thought of being subjected to his pleasure; and when, after a long hesitation, he ventured to approach me, I trembled as if I had been exposed to the embraces of a rattlesnake. Nor did the efforts of his love diminish this antipathy. His attempts were like the pawings of an imp, sent from hell to seize and torment some guilty wretch, such as are exhibited in some dramatic performance, which I have never seen acted without remembering my wedding-night. By such shadowy, unsubstantial, vexatious behaviour was I tantalized, and robbed of my repose; and early next morning I got up, with a most sovereign contempt for my bedfellow, who indulged himself in bed till eleven.
“I couldn’t help but be affected by this cowardly behavior. I remembered Lord W— as I looked at the person in front of me, and the comparison filled me with horror and disgust: my aversion to this figure was so strong that I started to sweat with anguish at the thought of being at his mercy; and when, after a long hesitation, he dared to come closer, I trembled as if I were facing a rattlesnake. His attempts at affection didn’t lessen this dislike. His advances felt like the actions of a demon sent from hell to torment some guilty soul, similar to those seen in a dramatic performance, which I have never watched without recalling my wedding night. I was tormented by such shadowy, annoying behavior and robbed of my peace; and early the next morning, I got up feeling a deep contempt for my bedfellow, who stayed in bed until eleven.”
“Having passed a few days in this place, I went home with him to his house at Twickenham, and soon after we were presented at court, when the queen was pleased to say to my lord's mother, she did not doubt that we should be a happy couple, for I had been a good wife to my former husband.
“After spending a few days here, I went home with him to his place in Twickenham, and shortly after, we were introduced at court, where the queen kindly told my lord's mother that she was sure we would make a happy couple since I had been a good wife to my previous husband.”
“Whatever deficiencies I had to complain of in my new spouse, he was not wanting in point of liberality. I was presented with a very fine chariot, studded with silver nails, and such a profusion of jewels as furnished a joke to some of my acquaintance, who observed, that I was formerly queen of hearts, but now metamorphosed into the queen of diamonds. I now also had an opportunity, which I did not let slip, of paying Lord W—'s debts from my privy purse; and on that score received the thanks of his elder brother, who, though he had undertaken to discharge them, delayed the execution of his purpose longer than I thought they should remain unpaid. This uncommon splendour attracted the eyes and envy of my competitors, who were the more implacable in their resentments, because, notwithstanding my marriage, I was as much as ever followed by the men of gallantry and pleasure, among whom it is a constant maxim, that a woman never withholds her affections from her husband, without an intention to bestow them somewhere else. I never appeared without a train of admirers, and my house in the country was always crowded with gay young men of quality.
“Whatever flaws I found in my new husband, he was definitely generous. He gifted me a stunning chariot, embellished with silver studs and a wealth of jewels, which led some of my friends to joke that I had gone from being the queen of hearts to the queen of diamonds. I also seized the chance to pay off Lord W—'s debts from my own savings, and for that, his older brother thanked me, even though he had promised to take care of it himself but took longer than I thought was reasonable to settle them. This extraordinary display of wealth caught the attention and envy of my rivals, who were even more bitter because, despite my marriage, I still attracted admirers from the world of romance and pleasure. It’s a common belief among them that if a woman isn’t genuinely devoted to her husband, she’s likely looking to share her affection elsewhere. I was never seen without a following of admirers, and my country house was always filled with lively young gentlemen of status.”
“Among those who cultivated my good graces with the greatest skill and assiduity, were the Earl C— and Mr. S—-, brother to Lord F—. The former of whom, in the course of his addresses, treated me with an entertainment of surprising magnificence, disposed into a dinner, supper, and ball, to which I, at his desire, invited eleven ladies, whom he paired with the like number of his own sex; so that the whole company amounted to twenty-four. We were regaled with a most elegant dinner, in an apartment which was altogether superb, and served by gentlemen only, no livery servant being permitted to come within the door. In the afternoon we embarked in two splendid barges, being attended by a band of music in a third; and enjoyed a delightful evening upon the river till the twilight, when we returned and began the ball, which was conducted with such order and taste, that mirth and good-humour prevailed. No dissatisfaction appeared, except in the countenance of one old maid, since married to a son of the duke of —, who though she would not refuse to partake of such an agreeable entertainment, was displeased that I should have the honour of inviting her. O baleful Envy! thou self-tormenting fiend! how dost thou predominate in all assemblies, from the grand gala of a court, to the meeting of simple peasants at their harvest-home! Nor is the prevalence of this sordid passion to be wondered at, if we consider the weakness, pride, and vanity of our sex. The presence of one favourite man shall poison the enjoyment of a whole company, and produce the most rancorous enmity betwixt the closest friends.
“Among those who gracefully won my favor with the greatest skill and effort were the Earl C— and Mr. S—-, brother to Lord F—. The former, during his interactions with me, treated me to a surprisingly extravagant event, which included a dinner, supper, and ball. At his request, I invited eleven ladies, who he paired with an equal number of gentlemen; thus, the total guest count reached twenty-four. We enjoyed a truly elegant dinner in a lavish room, served exclusively by gentlemen, with no liveried servants allowed inside. In the afternoon, we took to the water in two luxurious barges, accompanied by a band in a third, and had a delightful evening on the river until twilight, when we returned to start the ball, which was organized with such order and taste that joy and good spirits prevailed. The only hint of dissatisfaction came from the expression of one older unmarried woman, who later married a son of the duke of —. Although she didn't refuse to join such a lovely event, she was unhappy that I had the honor to invite her. Oh, cruel Envy! you self-torturing fiend! how you dominate in every gathering, from the grand gala of a court to the simple gathering of peasants at harvest time! It’s no surprise that this base emotion thrives when we think about the weaknesses, pride, and vanity of our gender. The presence of one favored man can ruin the pleasure of an entire group and create intense hostility between the closest friends.”
“I danced with the master of the ball, who employed all the artillery of his eloquence in making love; yet I did not listen to his addresses, for he was not to my taste, though he possessed an agreeable person, and a good acquired understanding; but he was utterly ignorant of that gentle prevailing art which I afterwards experienced in Mr. S—-, and which was the only method he could have successfully practised in seducing a young woman like me, born with sentiments of honour, and trained up in the paths of religion and virtue. This young gentleman was indeed absolutely master of those insinuating qualifications which few women of passion and sensibility can resist; and had a person every way adapted for profiting by these insidious talents. He was well acquainted with the human heart, conscious of his own power and capacity, and exercised these endowments with unwearied perseverance. He was tall and thin, of a shape and size perfectly agreeable to my taste, with large blue eloquent eyes, good teeth, and a long head turned to gallantry. His behaviour was the standard of politeness, and all his advances were conducted with the most profound respect; which is the most effectual expedient a man can use against us, if he can find means to persuade us that it proceeds from the excess and delicacy of his passion. It is no other than a silent compliment, by which our accomplishments are continually flattered and pleases in proportion to the supposed understanding of him who pays it.
“I danced with the host of the ball, who used all his charm to woo me; however, I didn’t pay attention to his words because he wasn’t my type, despite being pleasant-looking and well-educated. He completely lacked that subtle art of persuasion that I later encountered with Mr. S—-, which was the only way he could have successfully captivated a young woman like me, raised with a sense of honor and grounded in principles of faith and virtue. This young man truly had a complete mastery of those alluring qualities that few passionate and sensitive women can resist; he had a physique perfectly suited for taking advantage of these seductive traits. He understood the human heart, was aware of his own power and appeal, and consistently applied these gifts with tireless determination. He was tall and slender, with a form and stature perfectly to my liking, featuring large, expressive blue eyes, nice teeth, and an elegant demeanor. His behavior was the epitome of politeness, and every approach he made was marked by deep respect; this is the most effective strategy a man can use with us, especially if he can convince us that it comes from the depth and delicacy of his feelings. It’s nothing less than a silent compliment, by which our qualities are constantly praised and admired in relation to the perceived intelligence of the one giving it.”
“By these arts and advantages this consummate politician in love began by degrees to sap the foundation of my conjugal faith: he stole imperceptibly into my affection, and by dint of opportunity, which he well knew how to improve, triumphed at last over all his rivals.
“Through these strategies and advantages, this masterful politician in love gradually started to undermine my marital trust: he subtly entered my heart, and by taking advantage of every opportunity he expertly created, he ultimately defeated all his competitors."
“Nor was he the only person that disputed my heart with Earl C—. That nobleman was also rivalled by Lord C. H—, a Scotchman, who had been an intimate and relation of my former husband. Him I would have preferred to most of his competitors, and actually coquetted with him for some time: but the amour was interrupted by his going to Ireland; upon which occasion, understanding that he was but indifferently provided with money, I made him a present of a gold snuff-box, in which was enclosed a bank-note; a trifling mark of my esteem, which he afterwards justified by the most grateful, friendly, and genteel behaviour; and as we corresponded by letters, I frankly told him, that Mr. S—- had stepped in, and won the palm from all the rest of my admirers.
“Nor was he the only one competing for my heart with Earl C—. That nobleman also faced competition from Lord C. H—, a Scotsman, who had been close to my late husband. I would have preferred him over most of his rivals and actually flirted with him for a while: but the romance was cut short when he went to Ireland; during which time, realizing that he wasn't well-off financially, I gave him a gold snuff box that contained a banknote—a small token of my affection, which he later repaid with the most thankful, kind, and gracious behavior; and since we kept in touch through letters, I openly told him that Mr. S—- had come along and won out over all my other admirers.
“This new favourite's mother and sister, who lived in the neighbourhood, were my constant companions; and, in consequence of this intimacy, he never let a day pass without paying his respects to me in person; nay, so ingenious was he in contriving the means of promoting his suit, that whether I rode or walked, went abroad or stayed at home, he was always of course one of the party; so that his design seemed to engross his whole vigilance and attention. Thus he studied my disposition, and established himself in my good opinion at the same time. He found my heart was susceptible of every tender impression, and saw that I was not free from the vanity of youth; he had already acquired my friendship and esteem, from which he knew there was a short and easy transition to love. By his penetration choosing proper seasons for the theme, he urged it with such pathetic vows and artful adulation, as well might captivate a young woman of my complexion and experience, and circumstanced as I was, with a husband whom I had such reason to despise.
“This new favorite's mother and sister, who lived in the neighborhood, were my constant companions; and because of this closeness, he never let a day go by without coming to see me in person. In fact, he was so clever in finding ways to pursue his interest that whether I rode or walked, went out or stayed in, he was always part of the group; it seemed like his entire focus was on winning my affection. This allowed him to understand my personality and earn my good opinion at the same time. He discovered that my heart was open to every tender feeling and realized that I wasn't immune to the vanity of youth; he had already gained my friendship and respect, from which he knew it was a short and easy leap to love. By being perceptive and choosing the right moments to bring it up, he pushed forward with such heartfelt promises and clever flattery that any young woman in my situation, especially with a husband I had plenty of reasons to disdain, could easily be swayed.”
“Though he thus made an insensible progress in my heart, he did not find my virtue an easy conquest; and I myself was ignorant of the advantage he had gained with regard to my inclinations, until I was convinced of his success by an alarm of jealousy which I one day felt, at seeing him engaged in conversation with another lady. I forthwith recognized this symptom of love, with which I had been formerly acquainted, and trembled at the discovery of my own weakness. I underwent a strange agitation and mixture of contrary sensations. I was pleased with the passion, yet ashamed of avowing it even to my own mind. The rights of a husband, though mine was but a nominal one, occurred to my reflection, and virtue, modesty, and honour, forbade me to cherish the guilty flame.
“Even though he quietly made his way into my heart, he didn’t find my virtue easy to conquer; I was unaware of the influence he had over my feelings until I felt a surge of jealousy when I saw him talking to another woman. I immediately recognized this sign of love, which I had known before, and I was alarmed by the realization of my own vulnerability. I experienced a strange turmoil and a mix of conflicting emotions. I was happy about the passion, yet embarrassed to admit it even to myself. Thoughts of a husband's rights, even if my own were just a title, came to mind, and principles of virtue, modesty, and honor prevented me from nurturing this forbidden desire.”
“When I encouraged these laudable scruples, and resolved to sacrifice my love to duty and reputation, my lord was almost every day employed in riding post to my father, with complaints of my conduct, which was hitherto irreproachable; though the greatest grievance which he pretended to have suffered was my refusing to comply with his desire, when he entreated me to lie, a whole hour every morning, with my neck uncovered, that, by gazing, he might quiet the perturbation of his spirits. From this request you may judge of the man, as well as of the regard I must entertain for his character and disposition.
“When I supported these commendable concerns and decided to prioritize my duty and reputation over my love, my lord was almost daily sending messages to my father, complaining about my behavior, which had been entirely proper until then; although his main issue seemed to be my refusal to fulfill his request when he asked me to lie for a whole hour every morning with my neck exposed so he could gaze at it and calm his restless mind. From this request, you can assess his character, as well as the regard I must have for him.”
“During the whole summer I was besieged by my artful undoer, and in the autumn set out with my lord for Bath, where, by reason of the intimacy that subsisted between our families, we lived in the same house with my lover and his sister, who, with another agreeable young lady, accompanied us in this expedition. By this time Mr. S— had extorted from me a confession of a mutual flame, though I assured him that it should never induce me to give up the valuable possession of an unspotted character, and a conscience void of offence. I offered him all the enjoyment he could reap from an unreserved intercourse of souls, abstracted from any sensual consideration. He eagerly embraced the platonic proposal, because he had sagacity enough to foresee the issue of such chimerical contracts, and knew me too well to think he could accomplish his purpose without seeming to acquiesce in my own terms, and cultivating my tenderness under the specious pretext.
“Throughout the entire summer, I was pursued by my clever manipulator, and in the autumn, I set off with my lord for Bath. Because of the close relationship between our families, we stayed in the same house as my lover and his sister, who, along with another charming young woman, joined us on this trip. By this time, Mr. S— had extracted a confession of our mutual feelings from me, although I assured him that it would never lead me to sacrifice my cherished reputation and a clear conscience. I offered him all the emotional connection he could desire from an open exchange of souls, separate from any physical desires. He eagerly accepted the platonic idea because he was wise enough to foresee the outcome of such fanciful agreements and knew me well enough to realize that he couldn't achieve his goals without appearing to accept my terms and nurturing my affection under a false pretense.”
“In consequence of this agreement, we took all opportunities of seeing each other in private; and these interviews were spent in mutual protestations of disinterested love. This correspondence, though dangerous, was, on my side, equally innocent and endearing; and many happy hours we passed, before my sentiments were discovered. At length my lover was taken ill, and then my passion burst out beyond the power of concealment; my grief and anxiety became so conspicuous in my countenance, and my behaviour was so indiscreet, that everybody in the house perceived the situation of my thoughts, and blamed my conduct accordingly.
“As a result of this agreement, we took every chance to meet in private, and we spent these moments expressing our genuine love for each other. This correspondence, although risky, was completely innocent and heartfelt on my part, and we shared many joyful hours before my feelings were revealed. Eventually, my lover fell ill, and then my emotions overflowed beyond my ability to hide them; my sadness and worry became so obvious in my face, and my actions were so reckless that everyone in the house noticed what I was feeling and criticized my behavior accordingly.”
“Certain it is, I was extremely imprudent, though intentionally innocent. I have lain whole nights by my lord, who teased and tormented me for that which neither I could give nor he could take, and ruminated on the fatal consequences of this unhappy flame, until I was worked into a fever of disquiet. I saw there was no safety but in flight, and often determined to banish myself for ever from the sight of this dangerous intruder. But my resolution always failed at the approach of day, and my desire of seeing him as constantly recurred. So far was I from persisting in such commendable determinations, that, on the eve of our departure from Bath, I felt the keenest pangs of sorrow at our approaching separation; and, as we could not enjoy our private interviews at my house in town, I promised to visit him at his own apartments, after he had sworn by all that's sacred, that he would take no sinister advantage of my condescension, by presuming upon the opportunities I should give.
“It's clear that I was extremely reckless, even though I meant well. I have spent entire nights beside my lord, who teased and tormented me about something I couldn't give and he couldn't take, and I pondered the disastrous consequences of this unfortunate obsession until I was consumed with anxiety. I realized that there was no safety except in escaping, and I often resolved to remove myself forever from the presence of this dangerous intruder. But each time dawn approached, my resolve crumbled, and my desire to see him resurfaced just as consistently. I was so far from sticking to my good intentions that, on the night before our departure from Bath, I felt the deepest sorrow at our imminent separation; and since we couldn't enjoy our private meetings at my house in town, I promised to visit him at his own place after he swore on everything sacred that he wouldn't take any dishonest advantage of my willingness by making presumptions about the opportunities I would provide.”
“He kept his word, for he saw I trusted to it with fear and trembling, and perceived that my apprehension was not affected, but the natural concern of a young creature, distracted between love and duty, whom, had he alarmed, he would never had seen within his doors again. Instead of pressing me with solicitations in favour of his passion, he was more than ever respectful and complaisant; so that I found myself disengaged of all restraint, conducted the conversation, shortened and repeated my visits at my own pleasure, till at last I became so accustomed to this communication, that his house was as familiar to me as my own.
“He kept his promise because he noticed I was genuinely anxious about it, showing the natural worry of a young person torn between love and duty. If he had made me feel uneasy, he would have never seen me at his place again. Instead of pushing me to support his feelings, he became even more respectful and accommodating. This allowed me to feel completely free from any pressure, guiding the conversations and choosing when to visit. Eventually, I grew so used to this exchange that his home felt as familiar to me as my own.”
“Having in this manner secured himself in my confidence, he resumed the favourite topic of love, and, warming my imagination by gradual advances on the subject, my heart began to pant; when he saw me thus moved, he snatched the favourable occasion to practise all his eloquence and art. I could not resist his energy nor even fly from the temptation that assailed me, until he had obtained a promise that he should, at our next meeting, reap the fruits of his tedious expectation. Upon this condition, I was permitted to retire, and blessed heaven for my escape, fully determined to continue in the path of virtue I had hitherto trod, and stifle the criminal flame by which my peace and reputation were endangered. But his idea, which reigned in my heart without control, soon baffled all these prudent suggestions.
“Having gained my trust in this way, he went back to his favorite topic of love, and as he slowly stirred my imagination, my heart started to race. When he noticed my reaction, he took the opportunity to unleash all his charm and skill. I couldn’t resist his passionate approach, nor could I escape the temptation that confronted me, until he got me to promise that at our next meeting, he would finally enjoy the fruits of his long wait. On that condition, I was allowed to leave, and I thanked heaven for my narrow escape, fully set on sticking to the path of virtue I had been on and suppressing the dangerous desire that threatened my peace and reputation. But the thought of him took over my heart uncontrollably, soon undermining all my sensible plans.”
“I saw him again; and he reminded me of my promise, which I endeavoured to evade with affected pleasantry, upon which he manifested the utmost displeasure and chagrin, shedding some crocodile tears, and upbraided me with levity and indifference. He observed, that he had solicited my favour for ten long months without intermission, and imagined I had held out so long on virtuous motives only; but now he could plainly perceive that his want of success had been owing to my want of affection, and that all my professions were insincere. In a word, he persuaded me that his remonstrances were just and reasonable. I could not see the affliction of a man I loved, when I knew it was in my power to remove it; and, rather than forfeit his opinion of my sincerity and love, I consented to his wish. My heart now flutters at the remembrance of the dear though fatal indiscretion; yet I reflect without remorse, and even remember it with pleasure.
“I saw him again, and he reminded me of my promise, which I tried to dodge with feigned humor. This only caused him to show intense displeasure and disappointment, shedding some fake tears, and he criticized me for being casual and indifferent. He pointed out that he had been asking for my favor for ten long months without a break and thought I had held on for honorable reasons; but now he could clearly see that his lack of success was due to my lack of feelings, and that all my declarations were insincere. In short, he convinced me that his complaints were fair and reasonable. I couldn't bear to see the sorrow of someone I loved when I knew I could alleviate it; rather than risk losing his opinion of my honesty and love, I agreed to his request. My heart now races at the memory of that dear, yet tragic mistake; still, I think back on it without regret and even remember it fondly.”
“If I could not avoid the censure of the world, I was resolved to bear it without repining; and sure the guilt, if there was any in my conduct, was but venial; for I considered myself as a person absolved of all matrimonial ties, by the insignificance of Lord ——, who, though a nominal husband, was in fact a mere nonentity. I therefore contracted a new engagement with my lover, to which I resolved to adhere with the most scrupulous fidelity, without the least intention of injuring my lord or his relations; for, had our mutual passion produced any visible effects, I would immediately have renounced and abandoned my husband for ever, that the fruit of my love for Mr. S— might not have inherited, to the detriment of the right heir. This was my determination, which I thought just, if not prudent; and for which I have incurred the imputation of folly, in the opinion of this wise and honest generation, by whose example and advice I have, since that time, been a little reformed in point of prudentials, though I still retain a strong tendency to return to my primitive way of thinking.
“If I couldn’t avoid society’s judgment, I decided to handle it without complaining; and honestly, if there was any wrongdoing in my actions, it was minor. I saw myself as free from all marital obligations because of the insignificance of Lord ——, who, although he was my husband in name, was really just a nonentity. So, I entered into a new relationship with my lover, which I committed to with the utmost loyalty, having no intention of harming my husband or his family. Had our shared passion resulted in any noticeable consequences, I would have immediately given up my husband forever, so that the outcome of my love for Mr. S— wouldn’t unfairly benefit the rightful heir. This was my decision, which I viewed as fair, if not wise; and for this, I’ve been labeled foolish by this sensible and honest generation, whose influence and advice have since led me to make some adjustments in my approach to prudence, even though I still have a strong urge to revert to my original way of thinking.”
“When I quitted Mr. S—, after the sacrifice I had made, and returned to my own bed, it may, perhaps, be supposed that I slept but little. True: I was kept awake by the joyful impatience of revisiting my lover. Indeed I neglected no opportunity of flying to his arms. When Lord — was in the country, we enjoyed each other's company without interruption; but when he resided in town, our correspondence was limited to stolen interviews, which were unspeakably delicious, as genuine love presided at the entertainment.
“When I left Mr. S— after the sacrifice I had made and returned to my own bed, one might think that I hardly slept. It’s true: I was kept awake by the excited anticipation of seeing my lover again. I took every chance I could to rush into his embrace. When Lord — was in the country, we spent time together without any interruptions; but when he was in town, our communication was limited to secret meetings, which were incredibly sweet, as true love was at the heart of the experience."
“Such was my happiness in the course of this tender communication, that to this day I remember it with pleasure, though it has cost me dear in the sequel, and was at that time enjoyed at a considerable expense; for I devoted myself so entirely to my lover, who was desirous of engrossing my time and thoughts, that my acquaintance, which was very numerous, justly accused me of neglect, and of consequence cooled in their friendships; but I was 'all for love, or the world well lost;' and were the same opportunity to offer, I would act the same conduct over again.
“During that heartfelt conversation, I was so happy that I still remember it fondly today, even though it ended up costing me a lot later on, and I experienced it at a significant price; I devoted myself completely to my partner, who wanted to take up all my time and attention, which led my many friends to justly accuse me of neglect, and as a result, our friendships grew distant; but I was 'all for love, or nothing else mattered;' and if the same opportunity were to arise again, I would do it all the same way.”
“Some there are who possibly may wonder how I could love twice with such violence of affection. But all such observers must be unacquainted with the human heart. Mine was naturally adapted for the tender passions, and had been so fortunate, so cherished in its first impressions, that it felt with joy the same sensations revive, when influenced by the same engaging qualifications. Certain it is, I loved the second time as well as the first, and better was impossible. I gave up my all for both: fortune and my father's favour for the one; reputation, friends, and fortune for the other. Yet, notwithstanding this intimate connection, I did not relinquish the world all at once; on the contrary, I still appeared at court, and attracted the notice and approbation of my royal patroness; I danced with the P— of W—; a circumstance which so nearly affected Mr. S—, who was present, that, in order to manifest his resentment, he chose the ugliest woman in the ball for his partner; and I no sooner perceived his uneasiness, than I gave over, with a view of appeasing his displeasure.
“Some might wonder how I could love so intensely twice. But anyone thinking that doesn’t really understand the human heart. Mine was naturally open to deep emotions, and I was so lucky, so cherished in my first love, that it joyfully felt the same feelings come back when sparked by the same appealing traits. It's clear that I loved the second time just as much as the first, and it couldn’t have been better. I sacrificed everything for both: my fortune and my father's approval for one; my reputation, friends, and fortune for the other. Still, despite this close relationship, I didn’t completely cut ties with the world; on the contrary, I continued to show up at court and caught the attention and approval of my royal patroness; I danced with the P— of W—; an event that upset Mr. S— so much, who was there, that he chose the least attractive woman at the ball for his partner to show his annoyance; and as soon as I noticed his discomfort, I stopped dancing to try to ease his anger.”
“Without repeating particular circumstances, let it suffice to say, our mutual passion was a perfect copy of that which had subsisted between me and my dear Lord W—. It was jealous, melting and delicate, and chequered with little accident, which serve to animate and maintain the flame, in its first ardency of rapture. When my lover was sick, I attended and nursed him with indefatigable tenderness and care; and during an indisposition, which I caught in the performance of this agreeable office, he discharged the obligation with all the warmth of sympathy and love.
“Without going into specific details, let’s just say that our shared passion was a perfect reflection of what I had experienced with my dear Lord W—. It was jealous, intense, and fragile, filled with little incidents that kept the fire alive in those early days of excitement. When my boyfriend was sick, I took care of him with endless tenderness and attention; when I caught an illness from caring for him, he returned the favor with all the warmth of sympathy and love.”
“It was, however, judged necessary by the physicians, that I should use the Bath waters for the recovery of my health; and I set out for that place, glad of a pretence to be absent from Lord ——, with whom I lived on very unhappy terms. He had, about nine months after our marriage, desired that we might sleep in separate beds, and gave a very whimsical reason for this proposal. He said, the immensity of his love deprived him of the power of gratification, and that some commerce with an object, to which his heart was not attached, might, by diminishing the transports of his spirits, recompose his nerves, and enable him to enjoy the fruits of his good fortune.
“It was deemed necessary by the doctors that I should use the Bath waters to recover my health; so I headed there, glad to have an excuse to be away from Lord ——, with whom I had a very unhappy relationship. About nine months after we got married, he asked if we could sleep in separate beds and gave a rather strange reason for this request. He said that his overwhelming love made it impossible for him to feel pleasure and that having some interactions with someone he wasn’t emotionally attached to might help calm his nerves and allow him to enjoy his good fortune.”
“You may be sure I made no objection to this plan, which was immediately put into execution. He made his addresses to a nymph of Drury Lane, whose name, as he told me, was Mrs. Rock. She made shift to extract some money from her patient; but his infirmity was beyond the power of her art, though she made some mischief between us; and I communicated my suspicion to the duke of H—, who intended to have expostulated with her upon the subject; but she got intimation of his design, and saved him the trouble by a precipitate retreat.
“You can be sure I didn’t object to this plan, which was quickly put into action. He directed his efforts toward a woman from Drury Lane, whose name, as he told me, was Mrs. Rock. She managed to get some money from her client; however, her skills couldn’t fix his issue, even though she caused some trouble between us. I shared my suspicion with the Duke of H—, who planned to confront her about it, but she found out about his plan and avoided the confrontation by leaving in a hurry.”
“After my return from Bath, where Mr. S— and I had lived happily, until we were interrupted by the arrival of my husband, his lordship expressed an inclination to be my bedfellow again. In this particular I desired to be excused. I would not be the first to propose the separation, which, though usual in other countries, is contrary to the custom of England, being unwilling to furnish the least handle for censure, as my character was still unblemished; yet, when the proposal came from him, I thought myself entitled to refuse a reunion; to which I accordingly objected.
“After I got back from Bath, where Mr. S— and I had been happy together until my husband arrived, his lordship expressed a desire to share a bed with me again. I wanted to decline that. I didn’t want to be the first to suggest a separation, which, although common in other countries, is against the customs of England, as I was reluctant to give anyone a reason to criticize me, especially since my reputation was still intact. However, when he suggested it, I felt justified in refusing to reunite, so I did just that.”
“This opposition produced a quarrel, which rose to a state of perpetual animosity; so that we began to talk of parting. My lord relished the expedient, agreeing to add three hundred pounds a year to my pin-money, which, by the bye, was never paid; and I renounced all state and grandeur, to live in a small house that I hired at Carshalton, where I passed my time for two months, in the most agreeable retirement, with my dear lover. At length I was disturbed by the intrusion of my lord, who molested me with visits and solicitations to return, pretending that he had changed his mind, and insisting upon my compliance with his desire.
“This opposition led to a conflict that turned into ongoing resentment, so we started discussing the possibility of separating. My lord liked this idea and agreed to increase my allowance by three hundred pounds a year, which, by the way, was never paid; and I gave up all luxury and status to move into a small house I rented in Carshalton, where I spent two months enjoying peaceful time with my dear lover. Eventually, I was interrupted by my lord, who bothered me with visits and requests to come back, claiming he had changed his mind and insisting that I agree to his wishes.”
“I exhausted my invention in endeavours to evade his request; but he persecuted me without ceasing. So that I was fain to capitulate, on condition that he should immediately set out for France; and that he should not presume to approach my bed till our arrival at Calais. We accordingly departed for that kingdom; and, far from infringing the least article of our treaty, his lordship did not insist upon his privilege before we reached the capital of France.
“I ran out of ideas trying to avoid his request; but he kept pushing me relentlessly. So, I finally agreed, on the condition that he would leave for France right away and not come near my bed until we arrived in Calais. We then set off for that country; and, far from breaking any terms of our agreement, he didn’t demand his rights until we reached the capital of France.”
“Meanwhile, I began to feel the effect of my passion in a very interesting manner, and communicated my discovery to the dear author of it, who would not leave me in such an affecting situation, but took the first opportunity of following us to France.
“Meanwhile, I started to notice the impact of my feelings in a really interesting way and shared my discovery with the beloved source of it, who wouldn’t let me remain in such an emotional state, but took the first chance to join us in France.”
“In our road to Paris, we stopped to visit Chantilly, a magnificent chateau belonging to the prince of Conde, and there met by accident with some English noblemen, to whom I was known. The prince and his sisters invited me very politely into the gallery where they sat. They complimented me on my person, and seemed to admire my dress, which was altogether new to them, being a blue English riding-habit, trimmed with gold, and a hat with a feather. They were particularly well pleased with my hair which hung down to my waist, and pressed me to stay a fortnight at their house; an invitation which I was very much mortified at being obliged to refuse, because my lord did not understand the French language. I was enchanted with the place and the company, the women being amiable, and the men polite; nor were they strangers to my name and story; for Mr. S— calling at the same place a few days after, they rallied him on my account.
“On our way to Paris, we stopped to visit Chantilly, a stunning chateau owned by the prince of Conde, where we unexpectedly ran into some English noblemen who knew me. The prince and his sisters kindly invited me into the gallery where they were sitting. They complimented my appearance and seemed to admire my outfit, which was completely new to them—a blue English riding habit trimmed with gold, along with a feathered hat. They were especially impressed with my hair, which flowed down to my waist, and urged me to stay for a fortnight at their home; a request I felt bad about declining because my lord didn’t speak French. I was captivated by the place and the company; the women were charming and the men polite. They were also familiar with my name and story, as Mr. S— visited shortly after and they teased him about me.”
“When we arrived at Paris, the first thing I did was to metamorphose myself into a Frenchwoman. I cut off my hair, hid a very good complexion of my own with rouge, reconciled myself to powder, which I had never used before, put on a robe with a large hoop, and went to the Tuileries, full of spirits and joy; for, at that time, everything conspired to make me happy. I had health, youth, and beauty, love, vanity, and affluence, and found myself surrounded with diversions which were gay, new, and agreeable. My appearance drew upon me the eyes of the whole company, who considered me a stranger, but not a foreigner, so completely was I equipped in the fashion of the French; and when they understood who I was, they applauded my person with the most lavish encomiums, according to their known politeness.
“When we arrived in Paris, the first thing I did was transform myself into a Frenchwoman. I chopped off my hair, covered my good complexion with some makeup, came to terms with using powder, which I had never tried before, put on a dress with a big hoop, and went to the Tuileries, feeling cheerful and excited; because, at that time, everything seemed to make me happy. I had health, youth, beauty, love, vanity, and wealth, and found myself surrounded by fun activities that were lively, new, and enjoyable. My appearance caught the attention of everyone in the crowd, who regarded me as a stranger but not a foreigner, since I was dressed entirely in the French style; and when they realized who I was, they praised my looks with the most extravagant compliments, as was their custom.”
“After having made a circuit round all the public places of entertainment in Paris, I was introduced into the company by an English family, residing in that city; and, among others, became acquainted with a French lady, whose charms were remarkably attractive. The duke of K— was her admirer; but she lived in reputation with her mother, and an agreeable sister, whose lover was the prince of C—, for almost every lady in France has her aimant.
“After checking out all the entertainment spots in Paris, I got introduced to a group by an English family living there. Among them, I met a French lady who was incredibly charming. The duke of K— was smitten with her, but she maintained a good reputation with her mother and a pleasant sister, whose boyfriend was the prince of C—, since almost every woman in France has her suitor.”
“With this charming woman, whose name was Madame de la T—, I often made parties of pleasure. The duke, Mr. S—, she, and I, used to meet in the Bois de Boulogne, which is a pleasant wood, at a small distance from Paris, whither the company repairs in the summer season for the benefit of the air; and, after having amused ourselves among the groves, embarked in his grace's equipage, which was extremely elegant, being a calash drawn by six fine long-tailed greys, adorned with ribbons, in the French taste; and thus we were conducted to a little enchanted, or at least enchanting, palace, possessed by the duke, at one end of the town. The lower apartment, appropriated to me, was furnished with yellow and silver, the bed surrounded with looking-glasses, and the door opened into the garden, laid out in a cradle walk, and intervening parterres of roses and other flowers. Above-stairs, my female companion lodged in a chamber furnished with chintz. We supped all together in the saloon, which, though small, was perfectly elegant. The company was always good-humoured, the conversation sprightly and joyous, and the scene, though often repeated, still delightful and entertaining.
“With this charming woman, named Madame de la T—, I frequently enjoyed outings. The duke, Mr. S—, she, and I would meet in the Bois de Boulogne, a lovely forest not far from Paris, where people go in the summer for fresh air. After having fun among the trees, we would get into the duke's very elegant carriage, a calash pulled by six beautiful long-tailed gray horses decorated with ribbons in the French style. This would take us to a little enchanting palace owned by the duke at one end of town. The lower room that was assigned to me was decorated in yellow and silver, with a bed surrounded by mirrors and a door leading out to the garden, which featured a winding path and flower beds of roses and other blooms. Upstairs, my female companion stayed in a room furnished with chintz. We all had dinner together in the salon, which was small but perfectly elegant. The mood was always cheerful, the conversation lively and joyful, and the setting, though often repeated, remained delightful and entertaining.”
“At other times, Mr. S— and I used to pass our evenings at the palace of the prince of C—, which his highness lent us for our accommodation. The apartments opened into the gardens of the Luxembourg, and were, in point of magnificence, suitable to the owner. Thither I used to repair in a flaming equipage, on pretence of visiting, and spent the best part of the night with him who was dearer to me than all the princes in the world.
“At other times, Mr. S— and I would spend our evenings at the palace of the prince of C—, which his highness graciously lent us for our stay. The rooms opened into the gardens of the Luxembourg and were, in terms of grandeur, fitting for their owner. I used to arrive in a flashy carriage, under the guise of a visit, and spent the best part of the night with the person who meant more to me than all the princes in the world.”
“While I was happily engaged in these ravishing parties, my little lord was employed in his efforts to recover his health by restoratives, and I know not what; for he still lamented the enfeebling effects of his passion, and complained that he loved me more like an angel than a woman, though he strove to govern his affections according to the doctrines of the Christian religion, as he regulated his life by the maxims of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden. The meaning of this declaration I could never learn; and, indeed, I have been often tempted to believe he had no meaning at all.
“While I was happily caught up in these amazing parties, my little lord was busy trying to recover his health through tonics and who knows what else; he still mourned the draining effects of his love and complained that he loved me more like an angel than a woman, even though he tried to manage his feelings according to the teachings of the Christian faith, just as he guided his life by the principles of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden. I could never really understand the meaning of this statement, and honestly, I’ve often been tempted to think he didn’t have any meaning at all.”
“Be that as it will, I found my size visibly increasing, and my situation extremely uneasy, on account of the perpetual wrangling which prevailed between us, in consequence of his desiring to sleep with me again, after we had parted beds for the second time; and, that I might no longer be exposed to such disagreeable persecutions, I resolved to leave him, though at the hazard of my life.
“Even so, I noticed that I was getting bigger, and my situation was very uncomfortable because of the constant arguments between us, especially since he wanted to sleep next to me again after we had separated for the second time. To avoid such unpleasant harassment, I decided to leave him, even though it could put my life at risk.”
“Thus determined, I went to the British ambassador, in a hackney-coach; and, in order to disguise my youth, which might have prepossessed him against my judgment, muffled myself up in a black hood, which, as he said, instead of lending an air of gravity to my countenance, added a wildness to my looks, which was far from being disagreeable. He had been a gallant man in his youth, and even then, though well stricken in years, was not insensible to the power of beauty. This disposition, perhaps, rendered him more favourable to my cause, though he first advised me to return to my husband; but finding me obstinate, he undertook to serve me in my own way, and procured a protection from the French king, by virtue of which I could live at Paris unmolested by my lord. Nevertheless, he advised me, if I was determined to leave him, to make the best of my way to England and sue for a divorce. I relished his opinion, and concealed myself about three days in Paris, during which I borrowed some linen; for, as it was impossible to convey anything out of my own house without suspicion, I had neither clothes for my accommodation, nor a servant to wait on me.
“Feeling determined, I went to the British ambassador in a cab. To disguise my youth, which might have biased him against my judgment, I wrapped myself in a black hood. But, as he pointed out, instead of making me look serious, it gave me a wild appearance that wasn’t unpleasant. He had been quite a charming man in his youth, and even though he was older, he was still quite taken by beauty. This perhaps made him more sympathetic to my situation, though he first advised me to go back to my husband. When he saw that I was set in my decision, he agreed to help me in my own way and got me protection from the French king, which allowed me to live in Paris without being bothered by my husband. However, he suggested that if I was really going to leave him, I should head to England and apply for a divorce. I liked his advice and stayed hidden in Paris for about three days during which I borrowed some clothes. Since it was impossible to take anything from my own house without raising suspicion, I didn’t have any clothes for myself or a servant to assist me.”
“In this solitary condition, I took the road to Flanders, after I had put my lord upon a wrong scent, by writing a letter to him, dated at Calais, and travelled through an unknown country, without any other attendant than the postillion, being subjected to this inconvenience by the laws of France, which are so severe in some particulars, that, if any person had been apprehended with me, he would have suffered death for going off with a man's wife; though any man might go to bed with that same woman, without fear of incurring any legal punishment.
“In this lonely situation, I headed to Flanders after I misled my lord by writing him a letter dated from Calais. I traveled through an unfamiliar land, with only the postillion for company. I was faced with this challenge due to the harsh laws of France, which are so strict in some cases that if anyone had been caught with me, they would have been sentenced to death for leaving with a man’s wife. Yet, any man could sleep with that same woman without worrying about facing any legal consequences.”
“I proceeded night and day without intermission, that I might the sooner reach Flanders, where I knew I should be safe; and as the nights were excessively cold, I was fain to wrap myself up in flannel, which I bought for the purpose, as I had no clothes to keep me warm, and travelled in an open chaise. While we passed through dreary woods, quite remote from the habitations of men, I was not without apprehension of being stripped and murdered by the postillion; and, in all probability, owed my safety to the indigence of my appearance, which might also protect me in two miserable places, where I was obliged to lie, before I got out of the territories of France; for, as I could not reach the great towns where I intended to lodge, I was under the necessity of putting up at little wretched hovels, where no provision was to be had, but sour brown bread, and sourer cheese; and everything seemed to denote the dens of despair and assassination.
"I traveled day and night without stopping so I could reach Flanders faster, where I knew I would be safe. Since the nights were extremely cold, I had to wrap myself in flannel, which I bought for that purpose, as I had no clothes to keep me warm and traveled in an open carriage. While we went through desolate woods, far from any human settlements, I couldn’t help but worry about being robbed and killed by the driver. Most likely, my scruffy appearance helped keep me safe, which was also a blessing in the two miserable places where I had to stay before I left France. Since I couldn’t make it to the big towns where I planned to stay, I had no choice but to stop at tiny, miserable huts, where the only food available was sour brown bread and even worse cheese; everything around me made it feel like dens of despair and danger."
“I made shift, however, to subsist on this fare, uncomfortable as it was, confiding on the meanness of my equipage for the security of my person; and at length arriving at Brussels, fixed my quarters in the Hotel de Flandre (so well known to the English since), where I thought myself extremely happy in the accomplishment of my flight.
“I managed to get by on this food, as uncomfortable as it was, relying on the cheapness of my gear for my safety; and finally arriving in Brussels, I settled in at the Hotel de Flandre (which has become well-known to the English since), where I felt really happy about having made my escape.”
“I had not been two full days in this place, when I was blessed with the sight of my lover, who followed me on the wings of love, in pursuance of the plan we had projected before my departure from Paris. Here we concerted measures for proceeding to England. I hired a tall fine Liegeoise for my maid, and setting out for Ostend, we embarked in a vessel, in which Mr. S— had bespoke our passage. Our voyage was short and prosperous, and our time most agreeably spent in the company of my dear partner, who was a most engaging man in all respects, as I dare say my Lady C— has since found him.
“I had only been in this place for two full days when I was thrilled to see my lover, who came to me driven by love, following the plan we made before I left Paris. Here we planned how to get to England. I hired a tall, attractive woman from Liège to be my maid, and we set off for Ostend, where we boarded a ship that Mr. S— had arranged for us. Our journey was short and smooth, and we enjoyed our time together immensely, as my dear partner was charming in every way, just as I’m sure my Lady C— has realized since then.”
“I assumed a fictitious name, took private lodgings in Poland-street, retained lawyers, and commenced a suit for separation against my lord. I communicated the reasons of my elopement to my father, who was shocked and surprised at my conduct, which he condemned with expressions of sorrow and resentment. But the step was taken; nor did I repent of what I had done, except on his account.
“I took on a fake name, rented a place in Poland Street, hired lawyers, and started a separation lawsuit against my husband. I explained the reasons for my leaving to my father, who was shocked and surprised by my actions, which he responded to with sorrow and anger. But the decision was made; I didn't regret what I had done, except for how it affected him.
“In the morning after my arrival at London, I waited upon the lord chief justice, to whom I complained of the usage I had received from my lord, whose temper was teasing, tiresome, and intolerably capricious. Indeed, his behaviour was a strange compound of madness and folly, seasoned with a small proportion of sense. No wonder then, that I, who am hot and hasty, should be wretched, under the persecution of such a perverse humourist, who used to terrify me, and scold at me the whole night without intermission, and shake my pillow from time to time, that I might not sleep, while he tormented me with his disagreeable expostulations. I have been often frightened almost out of my senses, at seeing him convulsed with the most unreasonable passion; and chagrined to the highest degree of disgust, to find, by repeated observation, his disposition so preposterous, that his satisfaction and displeasure never depended upon the cause he had to be satisfied or disobliged; but, on the contrary, when he had most reason to be pleased, he was always most discontented, and very often in good-humour when he had reason enough for vexation.
"In the morning after I arrived in London, I went to see the lord chief justice and told him about the treatment I had received from my lord, whose temperament was frustrating, annoying, and incredibly unpredictable. His behavior was a bizarre mix of madness and foolishness, with just a hint of sense. No wonder, then, that I, being hot-headed and impulsive, felt miserable under the burden of such a difficult character, who would often scare me and yell at me all night long without stopping, even shaking my pillow now and then to keep me awake while he tormented me with his unpleasant complaints. I have often been terrified almost to the point of losing my mind at the sight of him being irrationally angry; and I was deeply frustrated to see, time and again, that his mood was so absurd that his happiness or unhappiness didn't depend on any real reason—more often than not, when he had the most to be happy about, he was the most upset, and frequently in a good mood when he had every reason to be annoyed."
“While I lived in Poland-street, I was engaged with lawyers, and so often visited by my father, that I could not dedicate my whole time as usual to my lover; nor was it convenient that he should be seen in my company: he therefore took a small house at Camberwell, whither I went as often as I had an opportunity; and maintained the correspondence with such eagerness and industry, that, although I was six months gone with child, I have often, by myself, set out for his habitation, in a hackney-coach, at eleven o'clock at night, and returned by six in the morning, that I might be in my own bed when my father came to see me; for I concealed my amour, as well as the effects of it, from his knowledge, and frequently took water from the bridge, that my motions might not be discovered. Nothing but the most passionate love could have supported my spirits under such vicissitudes of fatigue, or enabled my admirer to spend whole days by himself in such a solitary retirement.
"While I was living on Poland Street, I was dealing with lawyers and was often visited by my father, so I couldn't spend all my time with my lover like I usually would. It wasn't convenient for him to be seen with me either, so he rented a small house in Camberwell, where I went as often as I could. I maintained our relationship with such enthusiasm and effort that even though I was six months pregnant, I often set out alone for his place in a cab at eleven o'clock at night and returned by six in the morning, so I could be in my own bed when my father came to see me. I kept my affair, and its consequences, hidden from him, and often took water from the bridge to avoid detection. Only the most passionate love could have kept my spirits up through such exhausting ups and downs, or allowed my admirer to spend entire days alone in such seclusion."
“By this time, my lord was arrived in England, and employed in discovering the place of my retreat; so that I lived in continual alarm, and provided myself with a speaking-trumpet, which stood by my bedside, to be used in calling for assistance, in case my pursuer should make an attack upon my lodgings.
“By this time, my lord had arrived in England and was working to find out where I was hiding. I lived in constant fear and kept a speaking trumpet next to my bedside, ready to call for help in case my pursuer attacked my place.”
“This situation being extremely uncomfortable, I had no sooner begun my process against him, than I put myself entirely under the protection of Mr. S—, who conducted me to the house of a friend of his who lived in the country, where I was secure from the attempts of my husband. The world had now given me up, and I had renounced the world with the most perfect resignation. I weighed in my breast what I should lose in point of character, with what I suffered in my peace at home, and found, that my reputation was not to be preserved, except at the expense of my quiet, for his lordship was not disposed to make me easy, had I been ever so discreet. I therefore determined to give up a few ceremonial visits, and empty professions, for the more substantial enjoyments of life.
“This situation was really uncomfortable, and as soon as I started my process against him, I put myself completely under the protection of Mr. S—, who took me to the home of a friend of his in the countryside, where I was safe from my husband's advances. The world had pretty much given up on me, and I had accepted my situation with complete resignation. I considered what I would lose in terms of reputation against how much I was suffering in my home life, and realized that I couldn't protect my reputation without sacrificing my peace, since his lordship had no intention of making things easy for me, no matter how discreet I was. So, I decided to give up a few formal visits and empty gestures for the more meaningful pleasures of life.”
“We passed our time very agreeably in various amusements with this friend of Mr. S—, until the term of my reckoning was almost expired, then returned to London, and took lodgings in Southampton-street, where I began to make the preparations for the approaching occasion. Here I proposed to live with the utmost circumspection. I disguised my name, saw nobody but my lawyer and lover, and never approached the window lest I should be discovered by accident. Notwithstanding these precautions, my French maid, whom I had sent for some of my clothes, was dogged in her return, and next morning my lord took my lodgings by storm. Had he given the assault in his person only, I make no doubt but he would have suffered a repulse from the opposition of the Liegeoise, who made all the resistance in her power; but was obliged to give way to superior numbers. I was at that time abed, and hearing an unusual noise below, rang my bell, in order to know the cause of such disturbance. I drew my curtain at the same time, and who should I see entering my chamber but his lordship, attended by a constable, and the footman who had discovered my retreat!
“We spent our time quite enjoyably in various activities with this friend of Mr. S— until my time was almost up. We then went back to London and found a place to stay on Southampton Street, where I started preparing for the upcoming event. I planned to live very discreetly. I used a different name, only saw my lawyer and lover, and never went near the window to avoid being spotted accidentally. Despite these precautions, my French maid, whom I had sent to get some of my clothes, was followed back, and the next morning my lord stormed into my place. If he had attacked in person alone, I’m sure he would have faced a fight from the Liegeoise, who resisted as best she could but had to yield to greater numbers. I was in bed at the time, and hearing an unusual noise downstairs, I rang for help to find out what was going on. As I pulled back my curtain, who should enter my room but his lordship, accompanied by a constable and the footman who had tracked my location!”
“Such an unexpected visit could not fail to affect me with surprise and consternation. However, I summoned all my fortitude to my aid, and perceiving the fellows were about to open my window-shutters, desired their principal to order them down-stairs. He readily complied with my request, and sitting down by my bedside, told me with an air of triumph, that he had found me at last; and I frankly owned, that I was heartily sorry for his success. Instead of upbraiding me with my escape, he proceeded to entertain me with all the news in town, and gave me a minute detail of everything that happened to him since our parting; among other articles of intelligence, giving me to understand, that he had challenged Mr. S—, who refused to fight him, and was in disgrace with the prince of W— on that account.
“Such an unexpected visit couldn’t help but surprise me and throw me into a panic. Still, I gathered all my courage, and noticing that the guys were about to open my window shutters, I asked their leader to send them downstairs. He quickly agreed to my request, and sitting down by my bedside, told me with a sense of victory that he had finally found me; I honestly admitted that I was genuinely sorry for his success. Instead of scolding me for escaping, he started to fill me in on all the news in town and gave me a detailed account of everything that had happened to him since we last parted; among other things, he informed me that he had challenged Mr. S—, who refused to fight him and was now in trouble with the prince of W— for that reason.”
“But here his lordship did not strictly adhere to the naked truth. He had indeed, before our departure from the country, gone to my lover, and insisted upon having satisfaction in Hyde Park, two days from the date of his demand, and at three o'clock in the afternoon; S—, believing him in earnest, accepted the invitation; though he observed, that these affairs could not be discussed too soon, and wished the time of meeting might be an earlier hour. But his lordship did not choose to alter the circumstances of his first proposal; and, when he went away, said he should expect him at the appointed place and time, if it did not rain.
“But here, he didn’t stick to the whole truth. Before we left the country, he went to my lover and insisted on having a duel in Hyde Park, two days from then, at three o'clock in the afternoon. S—, thinking he was serious, accepted the challenge, although he pointed out that these matters should be discussed sooner and hoped for an earlier meeting time. But he wouldn’t change his original plan; and when he left, he said he expected S— at the agreed place and time, as long as it didn’t rain.”
“His antagonist gave me an account of the conversation, when I assured him the whole business would end in smoke. Accordingly, my lord sent him a letter on Monday, desiring that the assignation might be deferred till Thursday, that he might have time to settle his affairs, and pay S— a hundred pounds, which he had formerly borrowed of him. When Thursday came, he was favoured with another epistle, importing that the challenger had changed his mind, and would seek satisfaction at law. Thus ended that heroic exploit, which his lordship now boasted of with such arrogant misrepresentation.
“His opponent told me about the conversation, and I assured him that the whole situation would amount to nothing. So, my lord sent him a letter on Monday, asking to postpone the meeting until Thursday so he could settle his affairs and pay S— a hundred pounds that he had borrowed before. When Thursday arrived, he received another letter, stating that the challenger had changed his mind and would be seeking resolution through legal means. Thus ended that so-called heroic act, which his lordship now bragged about with such arrogant misrepresentation.”
“While he thus regaled me with these interesting particulars, I was contriving a scheme to frustrate the discovery he had made; so that I did not contradict his assertions, but told him, that, if he would go down-stairs, I would rise and come to breakfast. He consented to this proposal with great cheerfulness; and I own I was not a little surprised to find him, at this first interview, in as good a humour as if nothing had happened to interrupt the felicity of our matrimonial union.
“While he entertained me with these intriguing details, I was plotting a way to prevent the discovery he had made; so I didn't challenge his claims but told him that if he went downstairs, I would get up and join him for breakfast. He happily agreed to this suggestion, and I have to admit, I was quite surprised to see him, at this first meeting, in such a good mood as if nothing had disrupted the happiness of our marriage.”
“It cost me some invention to conceal my condition from his notice, being now within a week of the expected crisis. But I knew I had to do with a man of no great penetration, and succeeded in my attempt accordingly. We breakfasted with great harmony, and I invited him to dinner, after having prevailed upon him to send away his myrmidons, whom, nevertheless, he ordered to return at eleven o'clock at night. We conversed together with great gaiety and mirth. When I rallied him for visiting me in such a dishabille, he stood on tiptoe to view himself in the glass; and, owning I was in the right, said he would go and dress himself before dinner. He accordingly went away, charging my maid to give him entrance at his return; and he was no sooner gone than I wrote to Mr. S—, giving him an account of what had happened. Then, without having determined on any certain plan, I huddled on my clothes, muffled myself up, and calling a chair, went to the next tavern, where I stayed no longer than was sufficient to change my vehicle; and, to the astonishment of the drawers, who could not conceive the meaning of my perturbation, proceeded to a shop in the neighbourhood, where I dismissed my second chair, and procured a hackney-coach, in which I repaired to the lodgings of my lawyer, whom I could trust. Having made him acquainted with the circumstances of my distress, and consulted him about a proper place of retreat, after some recollection, he directed me to a little house in a court, to which, by the assistance of my lover, my woman and clothes were safely conveyed that same evening.
“It took some creativity to hide my situation from him, especially since the expected crisis was just a week away. But I knew he wasn’t very perceptive, so I managed to pull it off. We had a pleasant breakfast, and I invited him to dinner after convincing him to send away his entourage, who he did insist on calling back at eleven o'clock that night. We chatted happily and laughed a lot. When I teased him about showing up in such casual clothes, he stood on tiptoe to check himself in the mirror, and, admitting I was right, he said he would go get dressed before dinner. He left, telling my maid to let him back in when he returned, and as soon as he was gone, I wrote to Mr. S— to inform him of what had happened. Then, without having a solid plan, I quickly threw on my clothes, bundled myself up, and called for a chair, going to the closest tavern. I stayed just long enough to switch my transportation, and, to the surprise of the staff who couldn’t figure out why I was so flustered, I went to a shop nearby, where I dismissed my second chair and got a hackney-coach, which I took to my lawyer's place, someone I could trust. After explaining my troubling situation and discussing a safe place to go, he thoughtfully suggested a small house in a court, to which, with my lover’s help, my maid and my belongings were safely moved that same evening.”
“My lord, however, came to dinner, according to invitation, and did not seem at all alarmed when my maid told him I was gone, but stepped to my lawyer to know if he thought I should return. Upon his answering in the affirmative, and advising his lordship to go back in the meantime, and eat the dinner I had provided, he very deliberately took his advice, made a very hearty meal, drank his bottle of wine, and, as I did not return according to his expectation, withdrew in order to consult his associates. This motion of his furnished my woman with an opportunity of making her retreat; and, when he returned at night, the coast was clear, and he found nobody in the house, but a porter, who had been left to take care of the furniture. He was so enraged at this disappointment, that he made a furious noise, which raised the whole neighbourhood, reinforced his crew with the authority of a justice of the peace, tarried in the street till three o'clock in the morning, discharged a lodging he had hired at a barber's shop opposite to the house from which I had escaped, and retired with the comfortable reflection of having done everything which a man could do to retrieve me.
“My lord came to dinner as invited and didn’t seem alarmed when my maid told him I was gone. Instead, he went to my lawyer to see if he thought I should come back. When the lawyer said yes and suggested his lordship go ahead and eat the dinner I had prepared in the meantime, he calmly took the advice, had a hearty meal, drank his bottle of wine, and when I didn’t return as he had expected, he left to consult his associates. This gave my maid a chance to slip away, and when he returned at night, the place was empty except for a porter left to look after the furniture. He was so furious over this letdown that he made a huge commotion, which woke up the whole neighborhood, enlisted the help of his crew with the authority of a justice of the peace, stayed in the street until three o'clock in the morning, canceled a room he had reserved at a barber's shop across from where I had escaped, and went home with the comforting thought that he had done everything a man could do to get me back.
“The hurry of spirits and surprise I had undergone in effecting this retreat, produced such a disorder in my constitution, that I began to fear I should be delivered before I could be provided with the necessaries for the occasion. I signified my apprehension to Mr. S—, who, with infinite care and concern, endeavoured to find a more convenient place; and, after all his inquiries, was obliged to fix upon a paltry apartment in the city, though his tenderness was extremely shocked at the necessity of choosing it. However, there was no remedy, nor time to be lost, To this miserable habitation I was carried in a hackney-coach; and, though extremely ill, bore my fate with spirit and resignation, in testimony of my sincere and indelible attachment to my lover, for whose case and pleasure, I could have suffered every inconvenience, and even sacrificed my life.
“The rush of emotions and shock I experienced while making this escape created such chaos in my body that I started to worry I would give birth before I could get the essentials for the occasion. I expressed my concerns to Mr. S—, who, with great care and worry, tried to find a better place; but after all his searching, he had no choice but to settle for a shabby apartment in the city, even though he was deeply troubled by the need to choose it. However, there was no alternative and time was running out. I was taken to this dismal place in a cab, and even though I felt extremely unwell, I faced my situation with strength and acceptance, as a testament to my true and lasting love for my partner, for whom I would have endured any hardship and even sacrificed my life.”
“Immediately after I had taken possession of my wretched apartment, I was constrained by my indisposition to go to bed, and send for necessary help; and in a few hours a living pledge of my love and indiscretion saw the light, though the terrors and fatigue I had undergone had affected this little innocent so severely, that it scarce discovered any visible signs of life. My grief at this misfortune was inexpressible. I forthwith despatched a message to the dear, the anxious father, who flew to my arms, and shared my sorrow, with all the gentleness of love and parental fondness; yet our fears were, for that time, happily disappointed by the recovery of our infant daughter, who was committed to the charge of a nurse in the neighbourhood; so that I could every day be satisfied in my inquiries about her health. Thus I continued a whole fortnight in a state of happiness and tranquility, being blessed with the conversation and tender offices of my admirer, whose love and attention I wholly engrossed. In a word, he gave up all business and amusement, and concentrated all his care and assiduity in ministering to my ease and satisfaction: and sure I had no cause to regret what I had suffered on his account.
“Right after I moved into my run-down apartment, I was forced by my illness to go to bed and call for help. A few hours later, a living reminder of my love and foolishness was born, but the fears and exhaustion I had gone through had affected this little one so much that it barely showed any signs of life. My sorrow over this mishap was beyond words. I quickly sent a message to my dear, worried father, who rushed to me and shared my grief with all the tenderness of love and parental care. Thankfully, our fears were soon calmed when our baby daughter started to recover, and she was placed under the care of a local nurse, so I could check on her health every day. For two whole weeks, I stayed in a state of happiness and peace, surrounded by the conversations and kind gestures from my admirer, who devoted all his time and attention to making me feel comfortable and happy. I certainly had no reason to regret what I had endured for his sake.”
“But this my agreeable situation was one day disturbed by a most alarming accident, by which my life was drawn into imminent danger. The room under my bed-chamber took fire: I immediately smelt it, and saw the people about me in the utmost perplexity and consternation, though they would not own the true cause of their confusion, lest my health should suffer in the fright. Nevertheless, I was so calm in my inquiries, that they ventured to tell me my suspicion was but too just; upon which I gave such directions as I thought would secure me from catching cold, in case there should be a necessity for removing me; but the fire being happily extinguished, I escaped that ceremony, which might have cost me my life. Indeed, it was surprising that the agitation of my spirits did not produce some fatal effect upon my constitution; and I looked upon my deliverance as the protection of a particular providence.
“But this pleasant situation of mine was suddenly disrupted by a very alarming incident that put my life in serious danger. The room beneath my bedroom caught fire: I immediately smelled it and saw everyone around me in complete confusion and panic, although they wouldn’t admit the real reason for their distress, fearing it would affect my health. Still, I remained so calm in my questions that they dared to tell me my suspicions were unfortunately correct; at which point, I gave instructions to ensure I wouldn’t catch a cold if I needed to be moved. Thankfully, the fire was quickly put out, so I avoided that ordeal, which could have cost me my life. Truly, it was surprising that the stress didn’t have some harmful effect on my health, and I viewed my escape as the work of a special providence.”
“Though I escaped the hazard of a sudden removal, I found it was high time to change my lodgings, because the neighbours rushing into the house, upon the alarm of fire, had discovered my situation, though they were ignorant of my name; and I did not think myself safe in being the subject of their conjectures. Mr. S—, therefore, procured another compartment, with better accommodation, to which I was carried as soon as my health would admit of my removal; and soon after my lord wrote to me by the hands of my lawyer, earnestly entreating me to drop my prosecution, and come home; but I would not comply with his request; and nothing was farther from my intention than the desire of receiving any favours at his hands.
“Even though I avoided the risk of being suddenly kicked out, I realized it was definitely time to change my place. The neighbors rushed into the house during the fire alarm and found out about my situation, even though they didn’t know my name. I didn’t feel safe being the topic of their speculation. So, Mr. S— arranged for another place with better conditions, and I was moved there as soon as my health allowed. Soon after, my lord wrote to me through my lawyer, urgently asking me to drop my case and come back home, but I refused his request. The last thing I wanted was to accept any favors from him.”
“Thus repulsed, he set on foot a most accurate search for my person; in the course of which he is said to have detected several ladies and young girls, who had reasons for keeping themselves concealed; and had like to have been very severely handled for his impertinent curiosity. Being unsuccessful in all his attempts, he entered into a treaty with one Sir R— H—, a person of a very indifferent character, who undertook to furnish him with an infallible expedient to discover the place of my abode, if he would gratify him with a bond for a thousand pounds; which being executed accordingly, this worthy knight advertised me and my maid in the public papers, offering one hundred pounds as a reward to any person who should disclose the place of our retirement.
“Feeling rejected, he began a thorough search for me; during this time, he reportedly found several women and young girls who had reasons to stay hidden and almost faced serious consequences for his intrusive curiosity. After failing in all his attempts, he made a deal with a certain Sir R—H—, a man of questionable reputation, who promised to provide him with a foolproof way to find out where I was living if he was given a bond for a thousand pounds. Once this bond was signed, this noble knight published an ad about me and my maid in the local papers, offering a hundred pounds as a reward for anyone who could reveal our hiding place."
“As soon as the paper fell into my hands, I was again involved in perplexity; and, being afraid of staying in town, resolved, with the concurrence of my lover, to accept of an invitation I had received from the duke of K—, who had by this time arrived in England, with that lady whom I have already mentioned as one of our parties at Paris. Having visited my little infant, I next day set out for the duke's country seat, which is a most elegant chateau, and stands in a charming situation. Mr. S—- followed in a few days. We met with a very cordial reception; his grace was civil and good-natured, lived nobly, and loved pleasure; Madame de la T— was formed to please. There was always a great deal of company in the house; so that we passed our time agreeably in playing at billiards and cards, hunting, walking, reading, and conversation.
“As soon as I got the paper, I was once again confused; and, not wanting to stay in town, I decided, with my lover's agreement, to accept an invitation I had received from Duke K—, who had by that time arrived in England with the lady I mentioned before as part of our group in Paris. After visiting my little baby, I set off the next day for the duke's country house, which is a beautiful chateau in a lovely location. Mr. S— followed a few days later. We were warmly welcomed; the duke was polite and friendly, lived well, and enjoyed having fun; Madame de la T— was charming. There were always a lot of guests in the house, so we had a great time playing billiards and cards, hunting, walking, reading, and chatting.”
“But my terms of happiness were generally of short duration. In the midst of this felicity I was overtaken by a most severe affliction, in the death of my dear hapless infant, who had engrossed a greater share of my tenderness than perhaps I even should have paid to the offspring of a legitimate contract; because the circumstance of her birth would have been an insurmountable misfortune to her through the whole course of her life, and rendered her absolutely dependent on my love and protection.
“But my happiness was usually short-lived. In the midst of this joy, I was hit by a terrible sorrow with the death of my dear, unfortunate baby, who had captured more of my affection than I might have given to a child from a proper marriage; because the fact of her birth would have been an overwhelming misfortune for her throughout her life, making her completely reliant on my love and care.”
“While I still lamented the untimely fate of this fair blossom, Lord — came down, and demanded me as his wife; but the suit which I then maintained against him deprived him, for the present, of a husband's right; and therefore the duke would not deliver me into his hands. In six months he repeated his visit and demand; and an agreement was patched up, in consequence of which I consented to live in the same house with him, on condition that he should never desire to sleep with me, or take any other measure to disturb my peace; otherwise I should be at liberty to leave him again, and entitled to the provision of a separate maintenance. To these articles I assented, by the advice of my lawyers, with a view of obtaining the payment of my pin-money, which I had never received since our parting, but subsisted on the sale of my jewels, which were very considerable, and had been presented to me with full power of alienation. As to my lover, he had no fortune to support me; and for that reason I was scrupulously cautious of augmenting his expense.
“While I still mourned the premature loss of this beautiful flower, Lord — came down and asked for my hand in marriage; however, the case I was pursuing against him at that time prevented him, for now, from claiming any rights as my husband, and so the duke refused to hand me over. Six months later, he came back and made the same request, and we reached a tentative agreement, which allowed me to live in the same house with him on the condition that he would never ask to sleep with me or take any action to disrupt my peace; if he did, I would be free to leave him and entitled to receive separate maintenance. I agreed to these terms on the advice of my lawyers, aiming to secure the payment of my pin-money, which I hadn't received since our separation, and had been surviving on the sale of my valuable jewels that I was given permission to sell. As for my lover, he had no wealth to support me, so I was extremely careful not to increase his expenses.”
“We had now enjoyed each other's company for three years, during which our mutual passions had suffered no abatement, nor had my happiness been mixed with any considerable alloy, except that late stroke of providence which I have already mentioned, and the reflection of the sorrow that my conduct had entailed upon my dear father, whom I loved beyond expression, and whom nothing could have compelled me to disoblige but a more powerful flame, that prevailed over every other consideration. As I was now forced to break off this enchanting correspondence, it is not to be doubted that our parting cost us the most acute sensations of grief and disappointment. However, there was no remedy. I tore myself from his arms, took my leave of the family, after having acknowledged my obligations to the duke, and set out for the place of rendezvous, where I was met by my lord, attended by a steward whom he had lately engaged, and who was one chief cause of our future separations. My lord, having quitted his house in town, conducted me to his lodgings in Pall Mall, and insisted upon sleeping with me the first night; but I refused to gratify his desire, on the authority of our agreement.
“We had enjoyed each other's company for three years, during which our mutual passions had not faded, and my happiness was largely untainted, except for that recent blow of fate I’ve already mentioned, and the sadness I felt knowing how my actions affected my dear father, whom I loved deeply and whom nothing could have made me upset except a stronger passion that overshadowed everything else. Now that I had to end this wonderful correspondence, it’s undeniable that our parting brought us intense feelings of grief and disappointment. But there was no other choice. I pulled myself away from his arms, said goodbye to the family after expressing my gratitude to the duke, and headed to the meeting point where my lord met me, accompanied by a steward he had recently hired, who would later be a major reason for our future separations. My lord, having left his house in the city, took me to his lodgings in Pall Mall and insisted on sharing a bed with me that first night; however, I declined to satisfy his request based on our agreement.”
“This dispute produced a quarrel, in consequence of which I attempted to leave the house. He endeavouring to prevent my retreat, I fairly locked him in, ran down-stairs, and, calling a hackney-coach, made the best of my way into the city, to my father's lodgings, where I lay, the family being in town, though he himself was in the country. I wrote to him immediately; and, when he came to London, declared my intention of separating from my lord; in which, seeing me obstinate and determined, he at length acquiesced, and a formal separation accordingly ensued, which at that time I thought binding and immutable.
“This argument led to a fight, which made me try to leave the house. He tried to stop me, so I locked him in, ran downstairs, called a cab, and took off to my dad's place, where I stayed since the family was in town, though he was in the country. I wrote to him right away; and when he came to London, I told him I wanted to separate from my husband. Seeing that I was stubborn and resolute, he eventually agreed, and a formal separation followed, which at that time I believed to be final and unchangeable.”
“I was now sheltered under the wings of an indulgent father, who had taken me into favour again, on the supposition that my commerce with Mr. S— was absolutely at an end. Nevertheless, though we had separated, in all appearance for ever, we had previously agreed to maintain our correspondence in private interviews, which should escape the notice of the world, with which I was again obliged to keep some measures.
“I was now protected by my indulgent father, who had taken me back into his good graces, assuming that my dealings with Mr. S— were completely over. However, even though we had seemingly parted ways for good, we had agreed to keep in touch through private meetings that wouldn’t attract anyone's attention, as I still had to be careful around the outside world.”
“Our parting at the duke of K—'s house in the country was attended with all the genuine marks of sincere and reciprocal affection, and I lived in the sweet hope of seeing him again, in all the transport of his former passion, when my lawyer, who received my letters, brought me a billet one night, just as I had gone to bed. Seeing the superscription of S—'s handwriting, I opened it with all the impatience of an absent lover; but how shall I describe the astonishment and consternation with which I was seized, when I perused the contents! Instead of the most tender vows and protestations, this fatal epistle began with, Madam, the best thing you can do is to return to your father, or some cold and killing expression to that effect.
“Our goodbye at the duke of K—'s house in the countryside was filled with all the genuine signs of true and mutual affection, and I lived with the sweet hope of seeing him again, bursting with the same passion he once had. But one night, just as I had gone to bed, my lawyer, who had been getting my letters, brought me a note. Seeing S—'s handwriting on the envelope, I opened it with all the impatience of someone missing their love; but how do I express the shock and dismay that overwhelmed me when I read the message! Instead of the most heartfelt vows and declarations, this heartbreaking letter started with, Madam, the best thing you can do is to return to your father, or some cold and cutting expression to that effect.
“Heaven and earth! what did I feel at this dire conjuncture! the light forsook my eyes, a cold sweat bedewed my limbs, and I was overwhelmed with such a torrent of sorrow and surprise, that everybody present believed I would have died under the violent agitation. They endeavoured to support my spirits with repeated draughts of strong liquor, which had no sensible effect upon my constitution, though for eight whole years I had drunk nothing stronger than water; and I must have infallibly perished in the first ecstasy of my grief, had it not made its way in a fit of tears and exclamation, in which I continued all night, to the amazement of the family, whom my condition had alarmed, and raised from their repose. My father was the only person who guessed the cause of my affliction; he said he was sure I had received some ill-usage in a letter or message from that rascal S—; so he termed him in the bitterness of passion.
“Oh my God! What I felt at this terrible moment! The light faded from my eyes, a cold sweat covered my body, and I was overwhelmed by a wave of sorrow and shock so intense that everyone there thought I was going to die from the sheer agitation. They tried to lift my spirits with shot after shot of strong alcohol, but it didn't really affect me, even though I hadn’t had anything stronger than water for eight whole years; and I would have surely collapsed in the initial burst of my grief if it hadn’t finally come out in a flood of tears and cries that lasted all night, shocking the family, who were worried and had been awakened from their sleep. My father was the only one who figured out why I was so upset; he said he was certain I’d been mistreated in a letter or message from that scoundrel S—; that’s how he referred to him in his anger.”
“At mention of that name, my agony redoubled to such a degree that all who were present wept at sight of my deplorable condition. My poor father shed a flood of tears, and conjured me to tell him the cause of my disquiet; upon which, rather than confess the truth, I amused his concern by pretending that my lover was ill. The whole family having stayed by me till I was a little more composed, left me to the care of my maid, who put me into bed about six in the morning, but I enjoyed no rest. I revolved every circumstance of my conduct, endeavouring to find out the cause of this fatal change in S—'s disposition; and as I could recollect nothing which could justly give offence, concluded that some malicious persons had abused his ears with stories to my prejudice.
“At the mention of that name, my pain became so intense that everyone present cried at the sight of my miserable state. My poor father was in tears and begged me to tell him what was bothering me; instead of revealing the truth, I eased his worry by pretending that my boyfriend was sick. The whole family stayed with me until I was a bit calmer, then left me to the care of my maid, who helped me into bed around six in the morning, but I got no rest. I went over every detail of my actions, trying to figure out the reason for this drastic change in S—'s behavior; and since I couldn't remember anything that would justifiably upset him, I concluded that some spiteful people had filled his head with rumors against me.”
“With this conjecture I got up, and sent my lawyer to him with a letter, wherein I insisted upon seeing him, that I might have an opportunity of justifying myself in person; a task which would be easily performed, as I had never offended, but in loving too well. I waited with the most anxious impatience for the return of my messenger, who brought me an answer couched in the coldest terms of civility which indifference could dictate; acknowledging, however, that he had nothing to lay to my charge, but that it was for the good of us both that we should part. He ought to have reflected on that before, not after I had sacrificed my all for his love! I was well-nigh distracted by this confirmation of his inconstancy; and I wonder to this day how I retained the use of my reason under such circumstances of horror and despair! My grief laid aside all decorum and restraint; I told my father that S— was dying, and that I would visit him with all expedition.
“With this thought in mind, I got up and sent my lawyer to him with a letter, where I insisted on seeing him so I could justify myself in person; something that would be easy since I had never wronged him, except by loving too much. I waited anxiously for my messenger to return, who brought me a reply written in the coldest tone of politeness that indifference could muster; acknowledging, however, that he had no accusations against me, but that it was better for us both to part ways. He should have thought about that before, not after I had given up everything for his love! I was nearly driven mad by this proof of his unfaithfulness; and I still wonder how I managed to keep my sanity amid such horror and despair! My grief made me abandon all decorum and restraint; I told my father that S— was dying and that I would visit him immediately.
“Startled at the proposal, this careful parent demonstrated the fatal consequence of such an unguarded step, reminded me of the difficulty with which he had prevailed upon my mother and uncle to forgive my former imprudence, observed that his intention was to carry me into the country next day, in order to effect a perfect reconciliation; but now I was on the brink of forfeiting all pretensions to their regard, by committing another fatal error, which could not possibly be retrieved; and that, for his part, whatever pangs it might cost him, he was resolved to banish me from his sight for ever.
“Shocked by the proposal, this cautious parent showed me the serious consequences of such a reckless move. He reminded me how hard it had been for him to get my mother and uncle to forgive my past mistakes, pointed out that he planned to take me to the countryside the next day to achieve a complete reconciliation. But now, I was about to throw away all chances of gaining their approval by making another irreversible mistake, and he made it clear that, no matter how much it might hurt him, he was determined to keep me away from him for good.”
“While he uttered this declaration, the tears trickled down his cheeks, and he seemed overwhelmed with the keenest sorrow and mortification; so it may be easily conceived what were the impressions of my grief, reinforced with the affliction of a father whom I dearly loved, and the consciousness of being the cause of all his disquiet! I was struck dumb with remorse and woe; and, when I recovered the use of speech, I told him how sensible I was of his great goodness and humanity, and owned how little I deserved his favour and affection; that the sense of my own unworthiness was one cause of my present distraction; for such was the condition of my fate, that I must either see S— or die. I said, though I could not expect his forgiveness, I was surely worthy of his compassion; that nothing but the most irresistible passion could have misled me at first from my duty, or tempted me to incur the least degree of his displeasure; that the same fatal influence still prevailed, and would, in all probability, continue to the grave, which was the only abode in which I hoped for peace.
“While he said this, tears streamed down his cheeks, and he looked completely overwhelmed with deep sorrow and shame; so it’s easy to imagine how intense my grief was, amplified by the pain of a father I loved dearly, and the weight of knowing I was the cause of all his distress! I was speechless with guilt and sadness; when I finally found my voice, I told him how much I appreciated his kindness and compassion, and admitted how little I deserved his love and care. The awareness of my own unworthiness was part of what drove me to distraction; for my fate was such that I had to either see S— or die. I said that even if I couldn’t expect his forgiveness, I certainly deserved his compassion; that nothing but the strongest passion could have initially led me away from my duty, or tempted me to earn even a bit of his anger; that the same fatal force still held sway, and would likely continue until my death, which was the only place I hoped to find peace.”
“While I expressed myself in this manner, my dear good father wept with the most tender sympathy, and, saying I might do as I pleased, for he had done with me, quitted the room, leaving me to the cruel sensations of my own heart, which almost burst with anguish, upbraiding me with a fault which I could not help committing. I immediately hired a chariot and six, and would have set out by myself, had not my father's affection, which all my errors could not efface, provided an attendant. He saw me quite delirious and desperate; and therefore engaged a relation of my own to accompany and take care of me in this rash expedition.
“While I was speaking this way, my dear father cried with such heartfelt sympathy, and said I could do whatever I wanted because he was done with me. He left the room, leaving me alone with the painful feelings in my heart, which almost broke from the anguish, blaming me for a mistake I couldn’t help but make. I quickly hired a chariot and six horses and would have set off on my own if my father's love, which none of my mistakes could erase, hadn’t arranged for someone to go with me. He saw how delirious and desperate I was, so he enlisted a relative of mine to accompany and take care of me on this reckless journey.”
“During this journey, which lasted two days, I felt no remission of grief and anxiety, but underwent the most intolerable sorrow and suspense. At last we arrived at a little house called the Hut, on Salisbury Plain, where, in the most frantic agitation, I wrote a letter to S—, describing the miserable condition to which I was reduced by his unkindness, and desiring to see him, with the most earnest solicitations. This billet I committed to the care of my attendant, and laid strong injunctions upon him to tell Mr. S—, my injuries were so great, and my despair so violent, that, if he did not favour me with a visit, I would go to him, though at his sister's house, where he then was.
“During this two-day journey, I felt no relief from my grief and anxiety; instead, I went through unbearable sorrow and suspense. Finally, we reached a small place called the Hut on Salisbury Plain, where, in a state of extreme agitation, I wrote a letter to S—, detailing the wretched state I was in due to his unkindness and begging to see him with sincere pleas. I gave this letter to my attendant and instructed him firmly to tell Mr. S— that my injuries were so great and my despair so intense that if he didn’t come to see me, I would go to him, even if he was at his sister's house, where he was at the time.”
“He received my message with great coldness, and told my friend, that, if I would return to London without insisting upon the interview I demanded, he would, in a little time, follow me to town, and everything should be amicably adjusted; but when the messenger assured him, that I was too much transported with grief to hear of such a proposal, he consented to meet me in the middle of Salisbury Plain, that we might avoid all observation. And though I was little able to walk, I set out for the place of assignation, my companion following at a small distance.
“He received my message with a lot of indifference and told my friend that if I returned to London without insisting on the meeting I wanted, he would soon follow me to the city, and we could settle everything amicably. However, when the messenger told him I was too overwhelmed with grief to consider such a proposal, he agreed to meet me on the middle of Salisbury Plain so we could avoid being seen. Even though I could hardly walk, I set out for our meeting place, with my companion trailing behind at a distance.”
“When I saw him leading his horse down the hill, I collected all my fortitude, and advanced to him with all the speed I could exert; but when I made an effort to speak, my tongue denied its office, and so lively was the expression of unutterable sorrow in my countenance, that his heart, hard as it was, melted at the sight of my sufferings, which he well knew proceeded from the sincerity of my love. At length I recovered the use of speech enough to tell him, that I was come to take my leave; and, when I would have proceeded, my voice failed me again. But, after a considerable pause, I found means, with great difficulty, to let him know how sensible I was of my own incapacity to retrieve his lost affections; but that I was willing, if possible, to retain his esteem, of which could I be assured, I would endeavour to compose myself; that I was determined to leave the kingdom, because I could not bear the sight of those places where we had been so happy in our mutual love; and that, till my departure, I hoped he would visit me sometimes, that I might, by degrees, wean myself from his company; for I should not be able to survive the shock of being deprived of him all at once.
“When I saw him leading his horse down the hill, I gathered all my courage and rushed over to him as fast as I could; but when I tried to speak, my tongue failed me, and the look of deep sorrow on my face was so intense that his heart, tough as it was, softened at the sight of my pain, which he understood came from my genuine love. Finally, I managed to find my voice enough to tell him that I had come to say goodbye; but as I continued, my voice faltered again. After a long pause, I struggled to express how aware I was of my inability to win back his lost love; but I wanted him to know that if possible, I hoped to keep his respect. If I could be assured of that, I would try to gather myself; I was resolved to leave the kingdom because I couldn’t stand to see the places where we had been so happy together; and until I left, I hoped he would visit me sometimes, so I could gradually detach myself from his company, as I knew I wouldn't be able to handle the shock of losing him all at once."
“This address may seem very humble to an unconcerned observer; but love will tame the proudest disposition, as plainly appeared in my case; for I had naturally as much spirit, or more, than the generality of people have. Mr. S— was so much confounded at the manner of my behaviour, that he scarce knew what answer to make; for, as he afterwards owned, he expected to hear himself upbraided; but he was not proof against my tenderness. After some hesitation, he said, he never meant to forsake me entirely, that his affection was still unimpaired, and that he would follow me directly to London. I imposed upon myself, and believed what he said, because I could not bear to think of parting with him for ever, and returned to town in a more tranquil state of mind than that in which I had left my father, though my heart was far from being at ease; my fears being ingenious enough to foresee, that I should never be able to overcome his indifference.
“This address may seem very humble to someone who isn’t paying much attention; but love can soften even the proudest character, as was clearly evident in my situation because I naturally had as much, if not more, spirit than most people. Mr. S— was so taken aback by my behavior that he hardly knew how to respond; for, as he later admitted, he expected me to scold him, but he couldn’t resist my tenderness. After hesitating for a moment, he said he never intended to completely abandon me, that his feelings were still strong, and that he would come straight to London to see me. I convinced myself to believe his words because I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again, and I returned to the city feeling more calm than when I had left my father, even though my heart was far from at rest; my worries were clever enough to predict that I would never be able to overcome his indifference.
“I took lodgings in Mount-street, and my maid having disposed of herself in marriage, hired another, who supplied her place very much to my satisfaction. She was a good girl, had a particular attachment to me, and for many years, during which she lived in my service, was indefatigably assiduous in contributing to my ease, or rather in alleviating my affliction. For, though S— came up to town according to promise, and renewed a sort of correspondence with me for the space of five months, his complaisance would extend no farther; and he gave me to understand, that he had determined to go abroad with Mr. V—; whom he accordingly accompanied in his envoying to D—.
“I got a place in Mount Street, and since my maid got married, I hired another one who did a great job filling her shoes. She was a good person, had a strong bond with me, and for many years while she worked for me, she tirelessly helped make my life easier, or at least eased my troubles. Even though S— came to town like he promised and maintained a sort of correspondence with me for five months, he wouldn’t go any further than that; he made it clear that he planned to go abroad with Mr. V—, which he did when he accompanied him on his mission to D—."
“I understood the real cause of this expedition, which, notwithstanding his oaths and protestations of unabated love and regard, I construed into a palpable mark of dislike and disrespect; nor could the repeated assurances I received from him in letters mitigate the anguish and mortification that preyed upon my heart. I therefore gave up all hopes of recovering the happiness I had lost. I told him on the eve of his departure, that he might exercise his gallantry a great while, before he would meet with my fellow, in point of sincerity and love; for I would rather have been a servant in his house, with the privilege of seeing him, than the queen of England debarred of that pleasure.
“I understood the real reason behind this trip, which, despite his vows and claims of unwavering love and appreciation, I saw as a clear sign of dislike and disrespect; nor could the repeated reassurances I got from him in letters ease the pain and humiliation that gnawed at my heart. So, I gave up all hope of regaining the happiness I had lost. I told him the night before he left that he could show off his charm for a long time before he'd find someone as sincere and loving as I was; because I would have preferred to be a servant in his house, with the chance to see him, rather than the queen of England without that joy.
“When he took his leave, and went down-stairs, I shrunk at every step he made, as if a new wound had been inflicted upon me and when I heard the door shut behind him, my heart died within me. I had the satisfaction to hear afterwards, he lamented the loss of me prodigiously, and that he had never been so happy since. I sat down to write a letter, in which I forgave his indifference, because I knew the affections are altogether involuntary, and wished him all the happiness he deserved. I then walked up and down the room in the most restless anxiety, was put to bed by my maid, rose at six, mounted my horse and rode forty miles, in order to fatigue myself that I might next night enjoy some repose. This exercise I daily underwent for months together; and, when it did not answer my purpose, I used to walk round Hyde-park in the evening, when the place was quite solitary and unvisited by any other human creature.
“When he left and went downstairs, I flinched with every step he took, as if I had been wounded all over again. When I heard the door close behind him, my heart sank. I was relieved to later hear that he missed me greatly and had never been as happy since. I sat down to write him a letter where I forgave his indifference, knowing that feelings are completely involuntary, and wished him all the happiness he deserved. I then paced around the room, filled with restless anxiety, was put to bed by my maid, got up at six, hopped on my horse, and rode forty miles to wear myself out so I could hopefully find some rest that night. I did this every day for months, and when it didn’t help, I walked around Hyde Park in the evening when it was completely deserted and untouched by anyone else.”
“In the course of this melancholy perambulation, I was one day accosted by a very great man, who, after the first salutation, asked whether or not my intercourse with S— was at an end, and if I had any allowance from my husband. To the first of these questions I replied in the affirmative; and to the last answered, that my lord did not allow me a great deal; indeed, I might have truly said nothing at all; but I was too proud to own my indigence. He then expressed his wonder, how one like me, who had been used to splendour and affluence from my cradle, could make shift to live in my present narrow circumstances; and, when I told him that I could make a very good shift, so I had peace, he seemed to lament my situation, and very kindly invited me to sup with his wife at his house. I accepted the invitation, without any apprehension of the consequence; and, when I went to the place, was introduced into an apartment magnificently lighted up, I suppose, for my reception.
“In the course of this sad walk, I was one day approached by a very important man who, after exchanging greetings, asked if my relationship with S— had ended and whether I received any support from my husband. I confirmed the first and mentioned that my husband didn’t give me much; in fact, I could have honestly said nothing at all, but I was too proud to admit my poverty. He then expressed his surprise that someone like me, who had been used to luxury and wealth since childhood, could manage to live in my current limited circumstances. When I told him I could manage just fine as long as I had peace, he seemed to pity my situation and kindly invited me to have dinner with his wife at their house. I accepted the invitation without any worry about the outcome; and when I arrived, I was introduced into a beautifully lit room, presumably prepared for my arrival.
“After I had stayed alone for some time in this mysterious situation, without seeing a living soul, my inviter appeared, and said, he hoped I would not take it amiss that he and I were to sup by ourselves, as he had something to say, which could not be so properly communicated before company or servants. I then, for the first time, perceived his drift, to my no small surprise and indignation; and, with evident marks of displeasure, told him, I was sure he had nothing to propose that would be agreeable to my inclination, and that I would immediately leave the house. Upon which he gave me to understand, that I could not possibly retire, because he had sent away my chair, and all his servants were disposed to obey his orders.
“After I had been alone for a while in this strange situation, without seeing anyone, my host showed up and said he hoped I wouldn't mind that it was just the two of us for dinner, as he had something to discuss that couldn’t be adequately shared in front of others or staff. It was then, for the first time, I realized his intentions, much to my surprise and anger; I clearly expressed my displeasure and told him I was sure he had nothing to suggest that would align with my wishes, and that I would leave the house immediately. He then made it clear that I couldn't possibly leave because he had sent away my chair, and all his staff were instructed to follow his commands.”
“Incensed at this declaration, which I considered as an insult, I answered, with an air of resolution, it was very well; I despised his contrivance, and was afraid of nothing. Seeing me thus alarmed, he assured me I had no reason to be afraid; that he had loved me long, and could find no other opportunity of declaring his passion. He said the Q— had told him that Lord — had renewed his addresses to me; and, as he understood from my own mouth, my correspondence with S— was absolutely broke off, he thought himself as well entitled as another to my regard. In conclusion, he told me that I might command his purse, and that he had power enough to bring me into the world again with eclat. To these advances I replied, that he was very much mistaken in his opinion of my character, if he imagined I was to be won by any temptations of fortune; and very frankly declared, that I would rather give myself to a footman, than sell myself to a prince.
“Furious at this declaration, which I took as an insult, I responded, firmly stating that it was fine; I looked down on his scheme and was afraid of nothing. Seeing me this way, he reassured me that I had no reason to be scared; he had loved me for a long time and found no other chance to express his feelings. He mentioned that the Q— had told him that Lord — had renewed his attempts to win me over; and since he understood from me that my correspondence with S— was completely over, he thought he was just as entitled as anyone else to my affection. In the end, he told me that I could access his money, and that he had enough influence to reintroduce me into society with style. To his advances, I replied that he was very mistaken about my character if he thought I could be swayed by any allurements of wealth; I candidly stated that I would rather give myself to a servant than sell myself to a prince.”
“Supper being served, we sat down together; but I would neither eat nor drink anything, except a little bread and water; for I was an odd whimsical girl, and it came into my head, that he might perhaps have mixed something in the victuals or wine, which would alter my way of thinking. In short, finding himself baffled in all his endeavours, he permitted me about twelve o'clock to depart in peace, and gave up his suit as a desperate cause.
“Supper was served, and we sat down together; but I didn’t want to eat or drink anything, except for a little bread and water; I was a quirky girl, and it crossed my mind that he might have added something to the food or wine that would change my perspective. In short, after he realized he was getting nowhere with his attempts, he allowed me to leave in peace around midnight and gave up on his pursuit as a lost cause.”
“This uncomfortable life did I lead for a whole twelvemonth, without feeling the least abatement of my melancholy. Finding myself worn to a skeleton, I resumed my former resolution of trying to profit by change of place, and actually went abroad, with no other attendant than my woman, and the utmost indifference for life. My intention was to have gone to the south of France, where I thought I could have subsisted on the little I had left, which amounted to five hundred pounds, until the issue of my law-suit, by which I hoped to obtain some provision from my lord; and, without all doubt, my expectation would have been answered, had I put this my plan in execution; but, being at Paris, from whence I proposed to set forward in a few days, I sent to M. K—, who had been formerly intimate with my father, and shown me many civilities during my first residence in France.
“I lived this uncomfortable life for a whole year, without feeling any less of my sadness. Getting exhausted to the point of becoming a skeleton, I decided to go back to my earlier plan of trying to benefit from a change of scenery, and actually went abroad, with nothing but my woman by my side and a complete indifference to life. I intended to go to the south of France, where I thought I could survive on the little I had left, which was five hundred pounds, until the outcome of my lawsuit, through which I hoped to get some support from my lord; and, without a doubt, my expectations would have been met if I had followed through with this plan. However, while in Paris, from where I intended to leave in a few days, I contacted M. K—, who had been close with my father and had shown me kindness during my first stay in France.”
“This gentleman favoured me with a visit, and, when I made him acquainted with my scheme, dissuaded me from it, as an uncomfortable determination. He advised me to stay at Paris, where, with good economy, I could live as cheap as in any other place, and enjoy the conversation and countenance of my friends, among which number he declared himself one of the most faithful. He assured me, that I should be always welcome to his table, and want for nothing. He promised to recommend me as a lodger to a friend of his, with whom I would live in a frugal and decent manner; and observed, that, as the woman was well known and esteemed by all the English company in Paris, it would be the most reputable step I could take, considering my youth and situation, to lodge with a creditable person, who could answer for my conduct. Thus persuaded, I very simply followed his advice; I say simply, because, notwithstanding his representations, I soon found my money melt away, without any prospect of a fresh supply. In lieu of this, however, I passed my time very agreeably in several English and some French families, where, in a little time, I became quite intimate, saw a great deal of company, and was treated with the utmost politeness and regard; yet, in the midst of these pleasures, many a melancholy sigh would rise at the remembrance of my beloved S—, whom, for several years, I could not recollect without emotion; but time, company, amusements, and change of place, in a great measure dissipated these ideas, and enabled me to bear my fate with patience and resignation.
“This guy came to visit me, and when I told him about my plan, he talked me out of it, calling it an uncomfortable decision. He suggested I stay in Paris, where, if I managed my money well, I could live just as cheaply as anywhere else and enjoy the company and presence of my friends, of which he claimed to be one of the most loyal. He assured me that I would always be welcome at his table and wouldn’t lack for anything. He promised to recommend me as a tenant to a friend of his, with whom I could live in a simple and respectable way; and pointed out that, since the woman was well-known and respected by all the English crowd in Paris, it would be the best choice for me, considering my age and situation, to stay with someone reputable who could vouch for my behavior. So, convinced by his words, I naively took his advice; I say naively because, despite his claims, I quickly found my money disappearing with no sign of new funds. Instead, I spent my time enjoying myself in several English and some French families, where, before long, I became quite close, met a lot of people, and was treated with the utmost kindness and respect; yet, in the midst of all this enjoyment, I often sighed with sadness thinking of my dear S—, whom I couldn’t remember without feeling emotional for several years; however, time, socializing, distractions, and a change of scenery largely eased these thoughts and helped me to accept my situation with patience and resignation.
“On my last arrival at Paris, I was surrounded by a crowd of professed admirers, who sighed and flattered in the usual forms; but, besides that my heart was not in a condition to contract new engagements, I was prepossessed against them all, by supposing that they presumed upon the knowledge of my indiscretion with S—; and therefore rejected their addresses with detestation and disdain; for, as I have already observed, I was not to be won but by the appearance of esteem, and the most respectful carriage; and though, by a false step, I had, in my own opinion, forfeited my title to the one, I was resolved to discourage the advances of any man who seemed deficient in the other.
“On my last arrival in Paris, I was surrounded by a crowd of self-proclaimed admirers, who sighed and flattered me in the usual ways; however, my heart wasn’t in a place to start new relationships, and I was predisposed to think poorly of them all, assuming they were taking advantage of my indiscretion with S—. So, I rejected their advances with disgust and disdain; as I’ve mentioned before, I could only be won over by the appearance of genuine esteem and the utmost respect. Even though I believed I had forfeited my right to the former due to a misstep, I was determined to discourage any man whose behavior lacked the latter.”
“In this manner my lovers were one by one repulsed, almost as soon as they presented themselves, and I preserved the independence of my heart, until I became acquainted with a certain peer, whom I often saw at the house of Mrs. P—, an English lady then resident at Paris. This young nobleman professed himself deeply enamoured of me, in a style so different from that of my other admirers, that I heard his protestations without disgust; and, though my inclinations were still free, could not find in my heart to discountenance his addresses, which were preferred with the most engaging modesty, disinterestedness, and respect.
“In this way, my suitors were turned away one after another, almost as soon as they made their intentions known, and I managed to keep my heart independent until I met a certain nobleman, who I often saw at the home of Mrs. P—, an English woman living in Paris at the time. This young aristocrat declared that he was deeply in love with me, in a manner so different from my other admirers that I listened to his declarations without feeling disgust; and, although I was still free to choose, I couldn’t bring myself to reject his advances, which were delivered with the most charming modesty, selflessness, and respect.
“By these never-failing arts, he gradually conquered my indifference, and gained the preference in my esteem from Lord C— and the prince of C—, who were at that time his rivals. But what contributed more than any consideration to his success was his declaring openly, that he would marry me without hesitation, as soon as I could obtain a divorce from my present husband, which, in all probability, might have been easily procured; for, before I left England, Lord — had offered me five thousand pounds if I would consent to such a mutual release, that he might be at liberty to espouse one Miss W—, of Kent, to whom he then made love upon honourable terms; but I was fool enough to refuse his proposal, by the advice of S—. And whether or not his lordship, finding it impracticable to wed his new mistress, began to make love upon another footing, I know not; but, certain it is, the mother forbade him the house, a circumstance which he took so heinously ill, that he appealed to the world in a public advertisement, beginning with 'Whereas, for some time, I have passionately loved Miss W—, and, upon my not complying with the mother's proposals, they have turned me out of doors, this is to justify,' etc.
“Using these foolproof tactics, he gradually won me over and earned the favor of Lord C— and the prince of C—, who were his rivals at the time. However, what played the biggest role in his success was his open declaration that he would marry me without hesitation as soon as I got a divorce from my current husband, which could have been easily arranged; before I left England, Lord — had offered me five thousand pounds if I agreed to such a mutual release, so he could marry Miss W— from Kent, whom he was then pursuing seriously. But I was foolish enough to turn down his offer based on S—'s advice. And whether his lordship, finding it impossible to marry his new love, started pursuing her differently, I don’t know; but what is certain is that the mother forbade him from entering their home, which he took so poorly that he made a public appeal, starting with 'Whereas, for some time, I have passionately loved Miss W—, and, upon my refusal to comply with the mother's proposals, they have turned me out of doors, this is to justify,' etc.”
“This declaration, signed with his name, was actually printed in a number of detached advertisements, which he ordered to be distributed to the public; and afterwards, being convinced by some of his friends that he had done a very silly thing, he recalled them at half a guinea apiece. A copy of one of them was sent to me at Paris, and I believe my father has now one of the originals in his possession. After this wise vindication of his conduct, he made an attempt to carry off the lady from church by force of arms; but she was rescued by the neighbours, headed by her brother, who, being an attorney, had like to have made his lordship smart severely for this exploit.
“This declaration, signed with his name, was actually printed in several separate ads that he ordered to be handed out to the public; and later, after some friends convinced him that he had made a big mistake, he recalled them at half a guinea each. A copy of one of them was sent to me in Paris, and I believe my father now has one of the originals. After this wise justification of his actions, he tried to forcibly take the lady from the church, but she was rescued by the neighbors, led by her brother, who, being a lawyer, almost made his lordship pay dearly for this stunt.”
“Meanwhile my new admirer had made some progress in my heart; and, my finances being exhausted, I was reduced to the alternative of returning to Lord — again, or accepting Earl B—'s love. When my affairs were brought to an issue, I made no hesitation in my choice, putting myself under the protection of a man of honour whom I esteemed, rather than suffer every sort of mortification from a person who was the object of my abhorrence and contempt. From a mistaken pride, I chose to live in Lord B—'s house, rather than be maintained at his expense in another place. We spent several months agreeably in balls and other diversions, visited Lord B—, who lived at the distance of a few leagues from Paris, and stayed some days at his house, where the entertainment was, in all respects, delightful, elegant, and refined. Their habitation was the rendezvous of the best company in France; and Lady B— maintained the same superiority in her own sex, for which her lord is so justly distinguished among the men.
“Meanwhile, my new admirer had won some of my heart; and since I was out of money, I had to choose between going back to Lord — or accepting Earl B—'s love. When I had to make a decision, I didn’t hesitate to choose, putting myself under the protection of a man of honor whom I respected, rather than face all kinds of humiliation from someone I truly loathed and disdained. Out of misplaced pride, I decided to live in Lord B—'s house instead of being supported at his expense elsewhere. We spent several enjoyable months at balls and other outings, visited Lord B—, who lived a few leagues from Paris, and stayed a few days at his house, which was delightful, elegant, and refined in every way. Their home was the gathering place for the best company in France; and Lady B— held the same high regard among women that her husband is so well-known for among men.”
“About Christmas we set out for England, accompanied by a little North Briton, who lived with Lord B— as his companion, and did not at all approve of our correspondence; whether out of real friendship for his patron, or apprehension that in time I might supersede his own influence with my lord, I shall not pretend to determine. Be that as it will, the frost was so severe, that we were detained ten days at Calais before we could get out of the harbour; and, during that time, I reflected seriously on what my new lover proposed. As he was very young, and unacquainted with the world, I thought my story might have escaped him; and therefore determined to give him a faithful detail of the whole, that he might not have anything to reproach me with in the sequel; besides, I did not think it honest to engage him to do more for me than he might afterwards perhaps think I was worth. Accordingly, I communicated to him every particular of my life; and the narration, far from altering his sentiments, rather confirmed his good opinion, by exhibiting an undoubted proof of my frankness and sincerity. In short, he behaved with such generosity, as made an absolute conquest of my heart. But my love was of a different kind from that which had formerly reigned within my breast, being founded upon the warmest gratitude and esteem, exclusive of any other consideration, though his person was very agreeable, and his address engaging.
“Around Christmas, we headed to England, along with a young Scotsman who lived with Lord B— as his companion. He really didn’t like our correspondence; I’m not sure if it was out of genuine concern for his patron or if he was worried I might overshadow his own influence with my lord. Regardless, the frost was so harsh that we were stuck in Calais for ten days before we could leave the harbor. During that time, I seriously thought about what my new admirer proposed. Since he was quite young and didn’t know much about the world, I figured my story might have slipped his mind; so I decided to give him an honest account of everything, so he wouldn’t have anything to hold against me later. Plus, I didn’t think it was fair to get him to do more for me than he might later believe I deserved. I shared every detail of my life with him, and instead of changing his mind, it actually reinforced his positive opinion of me, showing clear evidence of my openness and honesty. In short, he behaved so generously that he completely won my heart. But my love for him was different from what I’d felt before; it was based on deep gratitude and respect, without any other considerations, even though he was quite charming and had an appealing manner.”
“When we arrived in England, I went directly to his country seat, about twelve miles from London, where he soon joined me, and we lived some time in perfect retirement. His relations being greatly alarmed with the apprehension that Lord — would bring an action against him, though he himself desired nothing more, and lived so easy under that expectation, that they soon laid aside their fears on his account.
“When we got to England, I went straight to his country house, about twelve miles from London, where he soon met me, and we spent some time in complete seclusion. His relatives were very worried that Lord — would take legal action against him, but he himself wanted nothing more than to be left alone, and he handled that worry so casually that they eventually stopped worrying about him.”
“We were visited by Mr. H. B—, a relation of my lord, and one Mr. R—, of the Guards, who, with the little Scotchman and my lover, made an agreeable set, among whom I enjoyed hunting, and all manner of country diversions. As to Mr. H. B—, if ever there was perfection in one man, it centred in him; or, at least, he, of all the men I ever knew, approached the nearest to that idea which I had conceived of a perfect character. He was both good and great, possessed an uncommon genius, and the best of hearts. Mr. R— was a very sociable man, had a good person, and cultivated understanding; and my lord was excessively good-humoured; so that, with such companions, no place could be dull or insipid. For my own part, I conducted the family; and, as I endeavoured to please and make everybody happy, I had the good fortune to succeed. Mr. B— told me, that before he saw me, he heard I was a fool; but finding, as he was pleased to say, that I had been egregiously misrepresented, he courted my friendship, and a correspondence commenced between us. Indeed, it was impossible for any person to know him, without entertaining the utmost esteem and veneration for his virtue.
“We were visited by Mr. H. B—, a relative of my lord, and one Mr. R— of the Guards, who, along with the little Scotsman and my partner, made a delightful group for hunting and various country activities. As for Mr. H. B—, if there was ever a perfect man, it was him; at least, he came the closest to my idea of a perfect character. He was both good and great, possessed a remarkable intelligence, and had the best of hearts. Mr. R— was very sociable, good-looking, and had a refined understanding; my lord was exceedingly good-humored, so with such companions, no place could be boring or tedious. For my part, I managed the household; and, by striving to please and make everyone happy, I was fortunate enough to succeed. Mr. B— told me that before he met me, he had heard I was a fool, but upon meeting me, he found out, as he kindly put it, that I had been seriously misrepresented, and he sought my friendship, which led to our correspondence. Truly, it was impossible for anyone to know him without feeling the utmost respect and admiration for his virtue.”
“After I had lived some time in this agreeable retreat, my husband began to make a bustle. He sent a message, demanding me from Lord B—; then came in person, with his nightcap in his pocket, intending to have stayed all night, had he been asked, and attended by a relation, whom he assured that I was very fond of him, and detained by force from his arms. Finding himself disappointed in his expectations, he commenced a law-suit against Lord B—, though not for a divorce, as we desired, but with a view to reclaim me as his lawful wife. His lawyers, however, attempted to prove criminal conversation, in hopes of extorting money from my lover. But their endeavours were altogether fruitless; for no servant of Lord B—'s or mine could with justice say we were ever seen to trespass against modesty and decorum; so that the plaintiff was nonsuited. While this cause was depending, all my lover's friends expressed fear and concern for the issue, while he himself behaved with the utmost resolution, and gave me such convincing proofs of a strong and steady affection, as augmented my gratitude, and riveted the ties of my love, which was unblemished, faithful, and sincere.
“After I had spent some time in this pleasant retreat, my husband started to make a scene. He sent a message demanding me from Lord B—; then he came in person, with his nightcap in his pocket, planning to stay all night if he had been invited, accompanied by a relative, whom he insisted I was very fond of, and who he claimed was being forcibly kept from his arms. When he found himself let down by his expectations, he began a lawsuit against Lord B—, not for a divorce as we wanted, but to reclaim me as his lawful wife. However, his lawyers tried to prove infidelity, hoping to extort money from my lover. But their efforts were completely unsuccessful; no servant of Lord B— or mine could truthfully say we ever acted against modesty and decency, so the plaintiff was dismissed. While this case was ongoing, all my lover's friends expressed worry and concern about the outcome, while he remained incredibly determined and showed me such strong and steady affection, which deepened my gratitude and strengthened my love, which was pure, loyal, and sincere.”
“Soon after this event, I was seized with a violent fit of illness, in which I was visited by my father, and attended by two physicians, one of whom despaired of my life, and took his leave accordingly; but Dr. S—, who was the other, persisted in his attendance, and, in all human appearance, saved my life; a circumstance by which he acquired a great share of reputation. Yet, notwithstanding all his assistance, I was confined to my bed for ten weeks; during which Lord B—'s grief was immoderate, his care and generosity unlimited. While I lay in this extremity, Mr. S—, penetrated by my melancholy condition, which revived his tenderness, begged leave to be admitted to my presence; and Lord B— would have complied with his request, had I not been judged too weak to bear the shock of such an interview. My constitution, however, agreeably disappointed my fears; and the fever had no sooner left me, than I was removed to a hunting seat belonging to my lover, from whence, after I had recovered my strength, we went to B— castle, where we kept open house. And, while we remained at this place, Lord B— received a letter from Lord —, dated in November, challenging him to single combat in May, upon the frontiers of France and Flanders. This defiance was sent in consequence of what had passed between them long before my indisposition, at a meeting in a certain tavern, where they quarrelled, and in the fray, my lover threw his antagonist under the table. I counselled him to take no notice of this rhodomontade, which I knew was void of all intention of performance; and he was wise enough to follow my advice, resolved, however, should the message be repeated, to take the challenger at his word.
“Shortly after this event, I fell seriously ill, and my father came to visit me, attended by two doctors. One of them lost hope for my recovery and left; however, Dr. S— stayed and, by all appearances, saved my life, which earned him considerable respect. Despite his help, I was stuck in bed for ten weeks, during which Lord B— was deeply grieving and showed endless care and generosity. While I was in such a bad state, Mr. S—, feeling sympathetic about my situation which rekindled his affection for me, asked to see me. Lord B— would have agreed to this request, but they decided I was too weak to handle such a meeting. Fortunately, my health surprised everyone; as soon as the fever left me, I was moved to a hunting lodge belonging to my lover. After I regained my strength, we went to B— castle, where we hosted guests. While we were there, Lord B— received a letter from Lord —, dated in November, challenging him to a duel in May on the borders of France and Flanders. This challenge stemmed from a previous altercation between them before my illness at a tavern, where they had a fight, and my lover ended up throwing his opponent under the table. I advised him to ignore this bravado since I knew it had no real intent behind it; he wisely took my advice but stated that if the challenge came up again, he would take it seriously.”
“Having resided some time at this place, we returned to the other country house which he had left, where Lord B— addicted himself so much to hunting, and other male diversions, that I began to think he neglected me, and apprised him of my suspicion, assuring him, at the same time, that I would leave him as soon as my opinion should be confirmed. This declaration had no effect upon his behaviour, which became so remarkably cold, that even Mr. R—, who lived with us, imagined that his affection was palpably diminished. When I went to town, I was usually attended by his cousin, or this gentleman, or both, but seldom favoured with his company; nay, when I repaired to Bath, for the re-establishment of my health, he permitted me to go alone; so that I was quite persuaded of his indifference; and yet I was mistaken in my opinion. But I had been spoiled by the behaviour of my first husband, and Mr. S—, who never quitted me for the sake of any amusement, and often resisted the calls of the most urgent business, rather than part from me, though but for a few hours. I thought every man who loved me truly would act in the same manner; and, whether I am right or wrong in my conjectures, I leave wiser casuists to judge. Certain it is, such sacrifice and devotion is the most pleasing proof of an admirer's passion; and, Voyez-moi plus souvent, et ne me donnez rien, is one of my favourite maxims. A man may give money, because he is profuse; he may be violently fond, because he is of a sanguine constitution. But, if he gives me his time, he gives me an unquestionable proof of my being in full possession of his heart.
“After spending some time at this place, we went back to the other country house he had left, where Lord B— became so absorbed in hunting and other masculine activities that I started to feel neglected. I shared my concerns with him, assuring him that I would leave as soon as my thoughts were confirmed. This declaration didn’t change his behavior, which became so noticeably cold that even Mr. R—, who was living with us, thought his affection was clearly lessening. When I went to town, I was usually accompanied by his cousin, or this gentleman, or both, but rarely got to spend time with him; in fact, when I went to Bath to recover my health, he allowed me to go alone, which made me completely convinced of his indifference. Yet, I was wrong in my judgment. I had been spoiled by the behavior of my first husband, and Mr. S—, who never left me for the sake of any entertainment and often ignored even the most pressing business calls just to stay with me, even if it was only for a few hours. I thought every man who genuinely loved me would act the same way. Whether I’m right or wrong in my assumptions, I’ll let wiser thinkers decide. It's clear that such sacrifice and devotion are the most gratifying evidence of an admirer’s passion, and “See me more often, and give me nothing” is one of my favorite maxims. A man might spend money because he’s lavish; he might be very affectionate because of a passionate nature. But if he spends his time with me, he gives me undeniable proof that he has truly given his heart to me.”
“My appearance at Bath, without the company of Lord B—, occasioned a general surprise, and encouraged the men to pester me with addresses, every new admirer endeavouring to advance his suit by demonstrating the unkind and disrespectful behaviour of his lordship. Indeed, this was the most effectual string they could touch. My pride and resentment were alarmed, I was weak enough to listen to one man, who had like to have insinuated himself into my inclinations. He was tall and large-boned, with white hair, inclining to what is called sandy, and had the reputation of being handsome, though I think he scarce deserved that epithet. He possessed a large fortune, loved mischief, and stuck at nothing for the accomplishment of his designs, one of his chief pleasures being that of setting any two lovers at variance. He employed his address upon me with great assiduity, and knew so well how to manage my resentment, that I was pleased with his manner, heard his vows without disgust, and, in a word, promised to deliberate with myself upon his proposals, and give him an account of my determination in writing.
“My appearance at Bath, without Lord B— by my side, surprised everyone and led the men to hassle me with their advances, with each new admirer trying to win me over by criticizing my lord’s unkind and disrespectful behavior. This was the most effective way to get to me. My pride and anger were stirred, and I was weak enough to listen to one man who almost swayed my feelings. He was tall and broad, with white hair that had a hint of reddish tones, and he was considered handsome, although I don’t think he truly deserved that title. He was wealthy, loved to cause trouble, and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, with one of his favorite pastimes being to stir up conflict between couples. He pursued me with great effort and knew just how to play on my feelings of anger, making me receptive to his manner, hearing his promises without feeling repulsed, and in short, I agreed to think over his proposals and send him my decision in writing.”
“Thus resolved, I went to Lord B—, in Wiltshire, whither I was followed by this pretender to my heart, who visited us on the footing of an acquaintance; but when I reflected on what I had done, I condemned my own conduct as indiscreet, though nothing decisive had passed between us, and began to hate him in proportion to the self-conviction I felt, perceiving that I had involved myself in a difficulty from which I should not be easily disengaged. For the present, however, I found means to postpone my declaration. He admitted my excuse, and I returned to London with Lord B—, who was again summoned to the field by his former challenger.
“Having made up my mind, I went to Lord B— in Wiltshire, followed by this pretender to my affections, who visited us as if we were just acquaintances. But as I thought about what I had done, I criticized my own actions as foolish, even though nothing serious had happened between us. I started to dislike him more and more as I realized how I had gotten myself into a mess that wouldn’t be easy to get out of. For the time being, though, I managed to delay my confession. He accepted my excuse, and I returned to London with Lord B—, who had been called back to the field by his old rival.
“H—d—n, governor, counsellor, and steward to this little hero, came to Lord B— with a verbal message, importing that his lordship had changed his mind about going to Flanders, but expected to meet him, on such a day and hour, in the burying-ground near Red Lion-square. Lord B— accepted the challenge, and gave me an account of what had passed; but he had been anticipated by the messenger, who had already tried to alarm my fears from the consideration of the consequence, that I might take some measures to prevent their meeting. I perceived his drift, and told him plainly, that Lord —— had no intention to risk his person, though he endeavoured with all his might to persuade me, that his principal was desperate and determined. I knew my little husband too well to think he would bring matters to any dangerous issue, and was apprehensive of nothing but foul play, from the villainy of H—d—n, with which I was equally well acquainted. Indeed, I signified my doubts on that score to Mr. B—, who would have attended his kinsman to the field, had he not thought he might be liable to censure, if anything should happen to Lord B—, because he himself was heir at law: for that reason he judiciously declined being personally concerned; and we pitched upon the earl of A—, his lordship's uncle, who willingly undertook the office.
“H—d—n, the governor, counselor, and steward to this little hero, came to Lord B— with a verbal message, saying that his lordship had changed his mind about going to Flanders but expected to meet him on a specific day and time in the cemetery near Red Lion Square. Lord B— accepted the challenge and told me what had happened; however, he had been beaten to it by the messenger, who had already tried to scare me into thinking about the consequences so that I might take steps to prevent their meeting. I saw through his intentions and told him clearly that Lord —— had no plan to put himself in danger, even though he tried his hardest to convince me that his principal was desperate and set on it. I knew my little husband well enough to believe he wouldn’t let things escalate into a dangerous situation, and I was only worried about foul play from the scheming of H—d—n, which I was just as familiar with. In fact, I expressed my concerns about that to Mr. B—, who would have gone to the field with his kinsman if he hadn’t thought he might be blamed if anything happened to Lord B—, since he himself was next in line. For that reason, he wisely chose not to get personally involved, and we decided on the Earl of A—, the lord's uncle, who willingly took on the role.”
“At the appointed time they went to the house of rendezvous, where they had not waited long when the challenger appeared, in a new pink satin waistcoat, which he had put on for the occasion, with his sword under his arm, and his steward by him, leaving, in a hackney-coach at some distance, a surgeon whom he had provided for the care of his person. Thus equipped he advanced to his antagonist, and desired him to choose his ground; upon which Lord B— told him, that if he must fall, it was not material which grave he should tumble over.
“At the agreed time, they went to the meeting place, where they didn’t have to wait long before the challenger showed up in a new pink satin waistcoat he wore for the occasion, with his sword under his arm and his steward beside him. A distance away, he had a hired coach waiting with a surgeon he had arranged for in case he got injured. With all this, he approached his opponent and asked him to pick the spot for their duel; to which Lord B— replied that if he had to fall, it didn’t matter which grave he would end up in."
“Our little hero, finding him so jocose and determined, turned to Lord A—, and desired to speak with him, that he might disburden his conscience before they should begin the work of death. They accordingly went aside; and he gave him to understand, that his motive for fighting, was Lord B—'s detaining his wife from him by compulsion. The earl of A— assured him, he was egregiously mistaken in his conjecture; that his nephew used no force or undue influence to keep me in his house; but it could not be expected that he would turn me out of doors.
"Our little hero, seeing him so cheerful and determined, turned to Lord A— and asked to speak with him so he could clear his conscience before they started the deadly task. They stepped aside, and he explained that his reason for fighting was that Lord B— was forcibly keeping his wife away from him. The Earl of A— assured him he was completely mistaken in his assumption, saying that his nephew wasn't using any force or undue influence to keep him in his house; it was only reasonable to expect that he wouldn't just throw him out."
“This explanation was altogether satisfactory to Lord —, who said he was far from being so unreasonable as to expect Lord B— would commit such a breach of hospitality; and all he desired was, that his wife should be left to her own inclinations. Upon these articles, peace was concluded, and they parted without bloodshed. At least these are the particulars of the story, as they were related by Lord A—, with whom I laughed heartily at the adventure, for I never doubted that the challenger would find some expedient to prevent the duel, though I wondered how he mustered up resolution enough to carry it so far.
“This explanation was completely satisfactory to Lord —, who said he was far from unreasonable enough to expect Lord B— to commit such a breach of hospitality; and all he wanted was for his wife to be left to her own choices. On these terms, peace was reached, and they parted without any violence. At least, this is how the story was told by Lord A—, with whom I shared a hearty laugh at the adventure, as I never doubted that the challenger would find a way to avoid the duel, though I was curious about how he gathered enough courage to take it that far."
“That he might not, however, give us any more trouble, we resolved to go and enjoy ourselves in France, whither I went by myself, in hopes of being soon joined by my lover, who was obliged to stay some time longer in England, to settle his affairs. He was so much affected at our parting, though but for a few weeks, that he was almost distracted. And this affliction renewed my tenderness for him, because it was an undoubted proof of his love. I wrote to him every post from France; and, as I had no secrets, desired him to take care of all the letters that should come to his house, directed to me, after my departure from England.
"To avoid any further trouble, we decided to go enjoy ourselves in France, where I went by myself, hoping my lover would soon join me. He had to stay a little longer in England to sort out his affairs. He was so upset about our parting, even though it was just for a few weeks, that he was nearly beside himself. His distress only made me more affectionate toward him because it was a clear sign of his love. I wrote to him every time the mail arrived from France, and since I had no secrets, I asked him to keep all the letters that would come to his house addressed to me after I left England."
“This was an unfortunate office for him, in the execution of which he chanced to open a letter from Sir T— A—, with whom, as I have already observed, I had some correspondence at Bath. I had according to my promise, given this gentleman a decisive answer, importing that I was determined to remain in my present situation; but as Lord B— was ignorant of my sentiments in that particular, and perceived from the letter that something extraordinary had passed between us, and that I was earnestly solicited to leave him, he was seized with the utmost consternation and concern; and, having previously obtained the king's leave to go abroad, set out that very night for France, leaving his affairs in the greatest confusion.
“This was an unfortunate role for him, during which he happened to open a letter from Sir T— A—, with whom, as I’ve mentioned before, I had some correspondence in Bath. According to my promise, I had given this gentleman a clear answer, indicating that I was determined to stay in my current situation; however, since Lord B— was unaware of my feelings on that matter and noticed from the letter that something unusual had occurred between us, which strongly urged me to leave him, he was filled with intense panic and worry. Having previously received the king’s permission to travel abroad, he departed that very night for France, leaving his affairs in complete disarray.”
“Sir T— A— hearing I was gone, without understanding the cause of my departure, took the same route, and both arrived at Dover next day. They heard of each other's motions. Each bribed the master of a packet-boat to transport him with expedition; but that depending upon the wind, both reached Calais at the same time, though in different vessels. Sir T— sent his valet-de-chambre post, with a letter, entreating me to accompany him into Italy, where he would make me mistress of his whole fortune, and to set out directly for that country, that he might not lose me by the arrival of Lord B—, promising to join me on the road, if I would consent to make him happy. I sent his messenger back with an answer, wherein I expressed surprise at his proposals, after having signified my resolution to him before I left England. He was scarce dismissed, when I received another letter from Lord B—, beseeching me to meet him at Clermont, upon the road from Calais; and conjuring me to avoid the sight of his rival, should he get the start of him in travelling. This, however, was not likely to be the case, as Lord B— rode post, and the other was, by his corpulence, obliged to travel in a chaise; yet, that I might not increase his anxiety, I left Paris immediately on the receipt of his message, and met him at the appointed place, where he received me with all the agitation of joy and fear, and asked if I had ever encouraged Sir T— A— in his addresses. I very candidly told him the whole transaction, at which he was incensed; but his indignation was soon appeased, when I professed my penitence, and assured him that I had totally rejected his rival. Not that I approved of my behaviour to Sir T—, who, I own, was ill-used in this affair; but surely it was more excusable to halt here, than proceed farther in my indiscretion.
“Sir T— A—, hearing I was gone without knowing why I left, took the same route, and they both arrived in Dover the next day. They learned about each other's movements. Each one bribed the captain of a packet-boat to get there quickly, but since it depended on the wind, they both reached Calais at the same time, although in different boats. Sir T— sent his valet ahead with a letter, asking me to join him in Italy, where he promised to make me the mistress of his entire fortune, and urged me to leave immediately for that country so he wouldn’t lose me to Lord B—, promising to catch up with me on the way if I agreed to make him happy. I sent his messenger back with a reply, where I expressed my surprise at his proposals since I had already made my decision clear to him before leaving England. He had barely left when I received another letter from Lord B—, begging me to meet him at Clermont, on the road from Calais, and urging me to avoid encountering his rival if he arrived before him. This, however, wasn’t likely, as Lord B— traveled post while the other, due to his bulk, had to travel in a carriage. Still, to avoid adding to his worries, I left Paris right after getting his message and met him at the designated spot, where he welcomed me with a mix of joy and anxiety and asked if I had ever encouraged Sir T— A— in his advances. I honestly laid out the entire situation, which made him angry; however, his anger quickly faded when I expressed my remorse and assured him that I had completely rejected his rival. Not that I justified my behavior towards Sir T—, whom I admit was treated unfairly in this situation; but surely it was more understandable to pause here than to continue deeper into my indiscretion.”
“My lover being satisfied with my declaration, we went together to Paris, being attended by the Scotchman, whom I have already mentioned, though I believe he was not over and above well pleased to see matters thus amicably compromised. The furious knight followed us to the capital; insisted on seeing me in person; told this North Briton, that I was actually engaged to him; wrote every hour, and railed at my perfidious conduct. I took no notice of these delirious transports, which were also disregarded by Lord B—, till, one night, he was exasperated by the insinuations of Mr. C—, who, I believe, inflamed his jealousy, by hinting a suspicion that I was really in love with his rival. What passed betwixt them I know not, but he sent for me from the opera, by a physician of Paris, who was a sort of go-between among us all, and who told me, that, if I did not come home in the instant, a duel would be fought on my account.
“My lover was happy with my expression of feelings, so we set off to Paris together, accompanied by the Scotsman I mentioned earlier, even though I don’t think he was too thrilled to see things resolved so peacefully. The angry knight followed us to the city, insisted on meeting me face to face, told this North Briton that I was actually engaged to him, wrote to me constantly, and criticized my unfaithful behavior. I ignored these wild outbursts, which were also overlooked by Lord B—, until one night when he was provoked by Mr. C—’s comments, who I suspect stirred his jealousy by suggesting I was genuinely in love with his rival. I’m not sure what happened between them, but he had a Parisian doctor, who was a kind of go-between for us, summon me from the opera and warned me that if I didn’t come home immediately, a duel would be fought over me.”
“I was very much shocked at this information; but, by being used to alarms from the behaviour of Lord —, I had acquired a pretty good share of resolution, and with great composure entered the room where Lord B— was, with his companion, whom I immediately ordered to withdraw. I then gave his lordship to understand, that I was informed of what had passed, and thought myself so much injured by the person who had just quitted the apartment, that I would no longer live under the same roof with him. Lord B— raved like a bedlamite, taxing me with want of candour and affection; but I easily justified my own integrity, and gave him such assurances of my love, that his jealousy subsided, and his spirits were recomposed. Nevertheless, I insisted upon his dismissing Mr. C—, on pain of my leaving the house, as I could not help thinking he had used his endeavours to prejudice me in the opinion of my lord. If his conduct was the result of friendship for his patron, he certainly acted the part of an honest and trusty adherent. But I could not easily forgive him, because, a few weeks before, he had, by my interest, obtained a considerable addition to his allowance; and even after the steps he had taken to disoblige me, I was not so much his enemy but that I prevailed upon Lord B— to double his salary, that his leaving the family might be no detriment to his fortune. His lordship having complied with my demand, this gentleman, after having stayed three days in the house, to prepare for his departure, during which I would not suffer him to be admitted into my presence, made his retreat with a fine young girl, who was my companion; and I have never seen him since that time.
“I was really shocked by this information; but, having grown accustomed to alarms from Lord —'s behavior, I had developed a fair amount of resolve. Calmly, I entered the room where Lord B— was, along with his companion, whom I immediately asked to leave. I then made it clear to his lordship that I knew what had happened and felt so wronged by the person who had just left that I could no longer live under the same roof as him. Lord B— went on a tirade, accusing me of being insincere and unloving; however, I easily defended my integrity and reassured him of my love until his jealousy cooled down and he calmed down. Nevertheless, I insisted that he dismiss Mr. C—, or I would leave the house, as I believed he had tried to turn my lord against me. If his actions came from a place of friendship for his patron, he certainly acted like a loyal and trustworthy supporter. But I found it hard to forgive him because, just a few weeks earlier, he had received a significant increase in his allowance thanks to my influence; and even after what he had done to upset me, I wasn't so much his enemy that I didn’t convince Lord B— to double his salary so that his leaving the family wouldn’t hurt his finances. After Lord B— agreed to my request, this gentleman, after staying three days in the house to prepare for his departure—during which time I wouldn’t let him be near me—left with a beautiful young girl who was my companion, and I haven’t seen him since then.”
“Sir T— still continued furious, and would not take a denial, except from my own mouth, upon which, with the approbation of Lord B—, I indulged him with an interview. He entered the apartment with a stern countenance, and told me I had used him ill. I pleaded guilty to the charge, and begged his pardon accordingly. I attempted to reason the case with him, but he would hear no arguments except his own, and even tried to intimidate me with threats; which provoked me to such a degree, that I defied his vengeance. I told him, that I feared nothing but the report of my own conscience; that, though I had acted a simple part, he durst not say there was anything criminal in my conduct, and that, from his present frantic and unjust behaviour, I thought myself happy in having escaped him. He swore I was the most inflexible of all creatures; asked if nothing would move me; and when I answered, “Nothing,” took his leave, and never after persecuted me with his addresses; though I have heard he was vain and false enough to boast of favours, which, upon my honour, he never received, as he himself, at one time, owned to Dr. Cantwell, at Paris.
“Sir T— was still furious and refused to accept a no from anyone but me. With Lord B—'s approval, I granted him an interview. He entered the room with a serious expression and accused me of treating him poorly. I admitted my fault and apologized. I tried to discuss the situation with him, but he wouldn’t listen to anything except his own perspective, and even tried to intimidate me with threats, which only angered me further. I stood up to him, saying that I feared nothing except my own conscience. I told him that while I might have acted naively, he could not claim there was anything wrong with my actions, and given his current erratic and unfair behavior, I felt fortunate to have gotten away from him. He swore that I was the most unyielding person he’d ever encountered and asked if nothing could change my mind. I replied, ‘Nothing,’ and he left, never to trouble me again. However, I’ve heard he was vain and deceitful enough to brag about favors he never actually received, as he once admitted to Dr. Cantwell in Paris.”
“While he underwent all this frenzy and distraction upon my account, he was loved with the same violence of passion by a certain Scotch lady of quality, who, when he followed me to France, pursued him thither with the same eagerness and expedition. Far from being jealous of me as a rival, she used to come to my house, implore my good offices with the object of her love, and, laying herself on the floor at full length before the fire, weep and cry like a person bereft of her senses. She bitterly complained that he had never obliged her but once; and begged, with the most earnest supplications, that I would give her an opportunity of seeing him at my house. But I thought proper to avoid her company, as soon as I perceived her intention.
“While he went through all this chaos and distraction because of me, he was equally loved with intense passion by a certain highborn Scottish lady, who, when he followed me to France, pursued him there with the same eagerness. Instead of feeling jealous of me as a rival, she would come to my house, begging for my support in her pursuit of him, and would lay herself on the floor in front of the fire, crying and weeping as if she had lost her mind. She complained bitterly that he had only been kind to her once, and she earnestly pleaded with me for a chance to see him at my house. But I decided to keep my distance from her as soon as I realized what she was after.”
“We continued at Paris for some time, during which I contracted an acquaintance with the sister of Madame de la T—. She was the supposed mistress of the prince of C—, endowed with a great share of understanding, and loved pleasure to excess, though she maintained her reputation on a respectable footing, by living with her husband and mother. This lady, perceiving that I had inspired her lover with a passion, which gave me uneasiness on her account, actually practised all her eloquence and art in persuading me to listen to his love; for it was a maxim with her to please him at any rate. I was shocked at her indelicate complaisance, and rejected the proposal as repugnant to my present engagement, which I held as sacred as any nuptial tie, and much more binding than a forced or unnatural marriage.
“We stayed in Paris for a while, during which I got to know the sister of Madame de la T—. She was rumored to be the mistress of the prince of C—, smart and overly fond of pleasure, but she kept her reputation intact by living with her husband and mother. This woman noticed that I had sparked her lover's interest, which made me uneasy for her sake, and she used all her charm to persuade me to entertain his affections; her principle was to keep him happy at all costs. I was taken aback by her inappropriate willingness and turned down the suggestion as it conflicted with my current commitment, which I held as sacred as any marriage vow, and even more binding than a forced or unnatural union."
“Upon our return to England, we lived in great harmony and peace, and nothing was wanting to my happiness, but the one thing to me the most needful; I mean the enchanting tenderness and delightful enthusiasm of love. Lord B—'s heart, I believe, felt the soft impressions; and, for my own part, I loved him with the most faithful affection. It is not enough to say I wished him well; I had the most delicate, the most genuine esteem for his virtue; I had an intimate regard and anxiety for his interest; and felt for him as if he had been my own son. But still there was a vacancy in my heart; there was not that fervour, that transport, that ecstasy of passion which I had formerly known; my bosom was not filled with the little deity; I could not help recalling to my remembrance the fond, the ravishing moments I had passed with S—. Had I understood the conditions of life, those pleasures were happily exchanged for my present situation, because, if I was now deprived of those rapturous enjoyments, I was also exempted from the cares and anxiety that attended them; but I was generally extravagant in my notions of happiness, and therefore construed my present tranquility into an insipid languor and stagnation of life.
“After we got back to England, we lived in great harmony and peace, and nothing was missing from my happiness except for the one thing I needed most: the enchanting tenderness and delightful enthusiasm of love. I believe Lord B— felt the gentle impact of my feelings; and for my part, I loved him with the truest affection. It's not enough to say I wished him well; I had the deepest, most genuine respect for his character; I cared deeply about his interests and felt for him as if he were my own son. Yet there was still a void in my heart; I didn’t have that fervor, that thrill, that ecstasy of passion I had once experienced; my heart was not filled with that little god of love; I couldn’t help but remember the sweet, captivating moments I had shared with S—. If I had understood the realities of life, I would have seen that those pleasures were happily traded for my current situation, because while I was now deprived of those ecstatic joys, I was also free from the worries and anxieties that came with them; but I was generally extravagant in my ideas of happiness, and so I viewed my current peace as a dull stagnation of life.”
“While I remained in this inactivity of sentiment, Lord —, having received a very considerable addition to his fortune, sent a message to me, promising, that if I would leave Lord B—, he would make me a present of a house and furniture, where I should live at my case, without being exposed to his visits, except when I should be disposed to receive them. This proposal he made in consequence of what I had always declared, namely, that if he had not reduced me to the necessity of putting myself under the protection of some person or other, by depriving me of any other means of subsistence, I should never have given the world the least cause to scandalize my reputation; and that I would withdraw myself from my present dependence, as soon as he should enable me to live by myself. I was therefore resolved to be as good as my word, and accepted his offer, on condition that I should be wholly at my own disposal, and that he should never enter my door but as a visitant or common friend.
“While I was stuck in this state of emotional inactivity, Lord —, having received a significant boost to his wealth, sent me a message promising that if I left Lord B—, he would gift me a house and furniture where I could live comfortably, without being subjected to his visits unless I wanted to welcome him. He made this proposal based on what I had always stated: that if he hadn't forced me to rely on someone for support by taking away all my other means of living, I would never have given anyone a reason to question my reputation; and that I would remove myself from my current situation as soon as he allowed me to live independently. I was therefore determined to keep my promise and accepted his offer, on the condition that I would have complete control over my own life, and that he would never enter my home except as a visitor or a casual friend.”
“These articles being ratified by his word and honour, the value of which I did not then know, a house was furnished according to my directions; and I signified my intention to Lord B—, who consented to my removal, with this proviso, that I should continue to see him. I wrote also to his relation, Mr. B—, who, in his answer, observed, that it was too late to advise, when I was actually determined. All my friends and acquaintance approved of the scheme, though it was one of the most unjustifiable steps I had ever taken, being a real act of ingratitude to my benefactor; which I soon did, and always shall regret and condemn. So little is the world qualified to judge of private affairs!
“These agreements were confirmed by his word and honor, the importance of which I didn’t fully grasp at the time, and a house was furnished based on my instructions. I told Lord B— about my plans, and he agreed to my move, with the condition that I would still see him. I also wrote to his relative, Mr. B—, who replied that it was too late to give advice now that I was already decided. All my friends and acquaintances supported the plan, even though it was one of the most unjustifiable actions I’ve ever taken, representing a true act of ingratitude toward my benefactor; something I quickly did and will always regret and condemn. The world is so poorly equipped to judge personal matters!”
“When the time of our parting drew near, Lord B— became gloomy and discontented, and even entreated me to postpone my resolution; but I told him, that now everything was prepared for my reception, I could not retract without incurring the imputation of folly and extravagance. On the very day of my departure, Mr. B— endeavoured, with all the arguments he could suggest, to dissuade me from my purpose; and I made use of the same answer which had satisfied his friend. Finding me determined on removing, he burst out into a flood of tears, exclaiming, “By God! if Lord B— can bear it, I can't.” I was thunderstruck at this expression; for though I had been told that Mr. B— was in love with me, I gave no credit to the report, because he had never declared his passion, and this was the first hint of it that ever escaped him in my hearing. I was therefore so much amazed at the circumstance of this abrupt explanation, that I could make no answer; but having taken my leave, went away, ruminating on the unexpected declaration.
“When it was almost time for me to leave, Lord B— became really down and unhappy, even begging me to reconsider my decision. I told him that everything was ready for my arrival, and I couldn’t back out now without looking foolish and extravagant. On the day I was supposed to leave, Mr. B— tried using every reason he could think of to change my mind, and I repeated the same response that had worked on his friend. When he realized I was serious about moving, he broke into tears, saying, “By God! If Lord B— can handle it, I can’t.” I was shocked by this statement; I had heard that Mr. B— was in love with me, but I didn’t believe it since he had never confessed his feelings, and this was the first hint I had ever gotten of it in front of me. I was so taken aback by his sudden revelation that I couldn’t respond; after saying my goodbyes, I left, deep in thought about what he had just said.”
“Lord B—, as I was informed, spoke not a word that whole night, and took my leaving him so much to heart, that two years elapsed before he got the better of his grief. This intelligence I afterwards received from his own mouth, and asked his forgiveness for my unkind retreat, though I shall never be able to obtain my own. As for Mr. B—, he was overwhelmed with sorrow, and made such efforts to suppress his concern, as had well nigh cost him his life. Dr. S— was called to him in the middle of the night, and found him almost suffocated. He soon guessed the cause, when he understood that I had left the house. So that I myself was the only person concerned, who was utterly ignorant of his affection; for I solemnly declare he never gave me the least reason to suspect it while I lived with his relation, because he had too much honour to entertain a thought of supplanting his friend, and too good an opinion of me to believe he should have succeeded in the attempt. Though my love for Lord B— was not so tender and interesting as the passion I had felt for S—, my fidelity was inviolable, and I never harboured the most distant thought of any other person, till after I had resolved to leave him, when, I own, I afforded some small encouragement to the addresses of a new admirer by telling him, that I should, in a little time, be my own mistress, though I was not now at my own disposal.
“Lord B—, as I was told, didn’t say a word that whole night, and took my leaving him so much to heart that two years passed before he was able to move on from his grief. I later heard this directly from him and asked for his forgiveness for my unkind departure, though I know I’ll never forgive myself. As for Mr. B—, he was overwhelmed with sadness and made such efforts to hide his feelings that it nearly cost him his life. Dr. S— was called to see him in the middle of the night and found him almost suffocating. He quickly figured out the reason when he learned that I had left the house. So, I was the only one who was completely unaware of his feelings; I honestly declare he never gave me the slightest reason to suspect it while I was living with his relative, as he had too much honor to entertain the idea of replacing his friend and held me in too high regard to believe he could succeed in trying. Although my love for Lord B— wasn’t as deep and passionate as what I felt for S—, my loyalty was unwavering, and I never even considered anyone else until after I had decided to leave him. I admit that I did give some slight encouragement to a new admirer by telling him that soon I would be my own mistress, even though I wasn’t at that moment able to make my own choices.”
“I enjoyed my new house as a little paradise. It was accommodated with all sorts of conveniences; everything was new, and therefore pleasing, and the whole absolutely at my command. I had the company of a relation, a very good woman, with whom I lived in the most amicable manner; was visited by the best people in town—I mean those of the male sex, the ladies having long ago forsaken me; I frequented all reputable places of public entertainment, and had a concert at home once a week; so that my days rolled on in happiness and quiet, till all my sweets were embittered by the vexatious behaviour of my husband, who began to importune me again to live with him; and by the increasing anxiety of Lord B—, who, though I still admitted his visits, plainly perceived that I wanted to relinquish his correspondence. This discovery raised such tempests of jealousy and despair within his breast, that he kept me in continual alarm. He sent messages to me every hour, signed his letters with his own blood, raved like a man in ecstasy of madness, railed at my ingratitude, and praised my conduct by turns. He offered to sacrifice everything for my love, to leave the kingdom forthwith, and live with me for ever in any part of the world where I should choose to reside.
“I enjoyed my new house like a little paradise. It had all sorts of conveniences; everything was new and therefore pleasing, and I had total control over everything. I lived with a relative, a really good woman, and we got along amicably. I was visited by the best people in town—I mean the men, as the women had long since abandoned me. I went to all the respectable public entertainment spots and held a concert at home once a week, so my days went by in happiness and peace, until all my joys were spoiled by my husband's annoying behavior, as he began to pressure me again to live with him; and by the growing anxiety of Lord B—, who, although I still allowed him to visit, clearly noticed that I wanted to end our correspondence. This realization stirred up intense jealousy and despair within him, keeping me in constant worry. He sent me messages every hour, signed his letters in his own blood, raved like a man driven to madness, complained about my ingratitude, and praised my behavior in turns. He offered to give up everything for my love, to leave the kingdom immediately, and to live with me forever in any part of the world I chose.”
“These were generous and tempting proposals; but I was beset with counsellors who were not totally disinterested, and who dissuaded me from embracing the proffers of my lover, on pretence that Lord — would be highly injured by my compliance. I listened to their advice, and hardened my heart against Lord B—'s sorrow and solicitations. My behaviour on this occasion is altogether unaccountable; this was the only time that ever I was a slave to admonition. The condition of Lord B— would have melted any heart but mine, and yet mine was one of the most sensible. He employed his cousin as an advocate with me, till that gentleman actually refused the office, telling him candidly, that his own inclinations were too much engaged to permit him to perform the task with fidelity and truth. He accordingly resolved to avoid my presence, until my lord and I should come to some final determination, which was greatly retarded by the perseverance of his lordship, who would not resign his hopes, even when I pretended that another man had engaged my heart, but said, that in time my affection might return.
“These were generous and tempting offers; but I was surrounded by advisors who had their own interests at heart, and they discouraged me from accepting my lover's proposals, claiming that Lord — would be deeply hurt by my compliance. I took their advice and steeled myself against Lord B—'s sadness and pleas. My actions in this instance are completely inexplicable; it was the only time I ever succumbed to advice. Lord B—'s situation would have softened anyone's heart but mine, even though mine was one of the most sensitive. He recruited his cousin to plead his case with me until that man finally declined the role, honestly telling him that his own feelings were too engaged to fulfill the task faithfully and honestly. He then decided to keep his distance from me until my lord and I reached a final decision, which was significantly delayed by his dedication, as he refused to give up hope, even when I claimed that another man had captured my heart, saying that in time, my feelings might return.
“Our correspondence, however, gradually wore off; upon which Mr. B— renewed his visits, and many agreeable and happy hours we passed together. Not that he, or any other person whom I now saw, succeeded to the privilege of a fortunate lover; I knew he loved me to madness; but I would not gratify his passion any other way than by the most profound esteem and veneration for his virtues, which were altogether amiable and sublime; and I would here draw his character minutely, but it would take up too much time to set forth his merit; the only, man living of my acquaintance who resembles him, is Lord F—, of whom I shall speak in the sequel.
“Our communication, however, gradually faded; as a result, Mr. B— started visiting again, and we spent many enjoyable and happy hours together. Not that he, or anyone else I saw at the time, achieved the status of a lucky lover; I knew he was madly in love with me, but I wouldn’t indulge his feelings in any way other than through my deep respect and admiration for his virtues, which were entirely admirable and impressive. I could describe his character in detail, but it would take too long to express his worth; the only person I know who is anything like him is Lord F—, whom I will mention later.”
“About this time I underwent a very interesting change in the situation of my heart. I had sent a message to my old lover S—, desiring he would allow my picture, which was in his possession, to be copied; and he now transmitted it to me by my lawyer, whom he directed to ask, if I intended to be at the next masquerade. This curiosity had a strange effect upon my spirits; my heart fluttered at the question, and my imagination glowed with a thousand fond presages. I answered in the affirmative; and we met by accident at the ball. I could not behold him without emotion: when he accosted me, his well-known voice made my heart vibrate, like a musical chord, when its unison is struck. All the ideas of our past love, which the lapse of time and absence had enfeebled and lulled to sleep, now awoke, and were reinspired by his appearance; so that his artful excuses were easily admitted: I forgave him all that I had suffered on his account, because he was the natural lord of my affection; and our former correspondence was renewed.
“During this time, I experienced a very interesting change in my feelings. I had sent a message to my old lover S—, requesting that he allow my picture, which he had, to be copied; and he now sent it to me through my lawyer, whom he instructed to ask if I planned to attend the next masquerade. This curiosity had a strange effect on my mood; my heart fluttered at the question, and my imagination was filled with a thousand hopeful thoughts. I replied yes, and we happened to meet at the ball. I couldn’t see him without feeling emotional: when he spoke to me, his familiar voice made my heart resonate like a musical chord struck in harmony. All the memories of our past love, which time and distance had weakened and lulled to sleep, were suddenly revived by his presence; so his clever excuses were easily accepted: I forgave him for everything I had suffered because he was the rightful owner of my affection; and our previous correspondence resumed.”
“I thought myself in a new world of bliss in consequence of this reconciliation, the rapture of which continued unimpaired for the space of four months, during which time he was fonder of me, if possible, than before; repeated his promise of marriage, if we should ever have it in our power; assured me he had never been happy since he left me: that he believed no woman loved like me. And indeed, to have a notion of my passion for that man, you must first have loved as I did. But, through a strange caprice, I broke off the correspondence, out of apprehension that he would forsake me again. From his past conduct I dreaded what might happen; and the remembrance of what I had undergone by his inconstancy, filled my imagination with such horror, that I could not endure the shocking prospect, and prematurely plunged myself into the danger, rather than endure the terrors of expectation. I remembered that his former attachment began in the season of my prosperity, when my fortune was in the zenith, and my youth in its prime; and that he had forsaken me in the day of trouble when my life became embarrassed, and my circumstances were on the decline. I foresaw nothing but continual persecution from my husband, and feared, that, once the keener transports of our reconciliation should be over, his affection would sink under the severity of its trial. In consequence of this desertion, I received a letter from him, acknowledging that he was rightly served, but that my retreat gave him inexpressible concern.
“I felt like I was in a new world of happiness because of this reconciliation, which lasted for four months. During that time, he was even more fond of me than before; he kept promising to marry me if we ever had the chance, and he told me he hadn't been happy since we parted. He believed no woman loved as I did. To understand my feelings for him, you have to have loved like I did. But, out of a strange impulse, I ended our communication, fearing he would leave me again. Based on how he acted before, I dreaded what might happen; the memory of his betrayal filled my mind with such horror that I couldn’t stand the terrifying thought and chose to dive into danger rather than face the anxiety of waiting. I recalled that his previous affection began when I was thriving, with my fortune at its peak and my youth in full bloom; he abandoned me when my life got complicated and my circumstances took a downturn. I only anticipated constant torment from my husband and worried that once the excitement of our reconciliation faded, his feelings would wane under the strain. As a result of this abandonment, I got a letter from him, admitting he deserved it but that my withdrawal caused him deep distress.”
“Meanwhile Lord — continued to act in the character of a fiend, tormenting me with his nauseous importunities. He prevailed upon the duke of L— to employ his influence in persuading me to live with him; assuring his grace, that I had actually promised to give him that proof of my obedience, and that I would come home the sooner for being pressed to compliance by a person of his rank and character. Induced by these representations, the duke honoured me with a visit; and, in the course of his exhortations, I understood how he had been thus misinformed. Upon which I sent for Lord —, and, in his presence, convicted him of the falsehood, by communicating to his grace the articles of our last agreement, which he did not think proper to deny; and the duke, being undeceived, declared, that he would not have given me the trouble of vindicating myself, had he not been misled by the insincerity of my lord.
“Meanwhile, Lord — continued to act like a fiend, tormenting me with his disgusting demands. He convinced the Duke of L— to use his influence to persuade me to live with him; claiming to his grace that I had actually promised to give him that proof of my obedience, and that I would come home sooner because I was being pressured by someone of his rank and character. Because of this, the duke honored me with a visit; and during his encouragement, I realized how he had been misinformed. So, I called for Lord —, and in front of him, I exposed his lies by sharing the details of our last agreement, which he didn’t deny. The duke, having been set straight, stated that he wouldn’t have put me through the trouble of defending myself if he hadn’t been misled by my lord’s dishonesty.”
“Baffled in this attempt, he engaged Mr. H— V—, and afterwards my own father, in the same task; and though I still adhered to my first resolution, persisted with such obstinacy in his endeavours to make me unhappy, that I determined to leave the kingdom. Accordingly, after I had spent the evening with him at Ranelagh, I went away about two o'clock in the morning, leaving my companion, with directions to restore to my lord his house, furniture, plate, and everything he had given me since our last accommodation; so far was I, upon this occasion, or at any other time of my life, from embezzling any part of his fortune. My friend followed my instructions most punctually: and his lordship knows and will acknowledge the truth of this assertion.
“Confused by this attempt, he got Mr. H— V— and then my own father involved in the same task; and even though I stuck to my original decision, he kept trying so stubbornly to make me unhappy that I decided to leave the country. So, after I spent the evening with him at Ranelagh, I left around two in the morning, telling my companion to return to my lord his house, furniture, silver, and everything he had given me since our last agreement; I was, in this instance, and at any other time in my life, far from keeping any part of his fortune for myself. My friend followed my instructions exactly: and his lordship knows and will confirm the truth of this statement.
“Thus have I explained the true cause of my first expedition to Flanders, whither the world was good-natured enough to say, I followed Mr. B— and the whole army, which happened to be sent abroad that summer. Before my departure, I likewise transmitted to Lord B— the dressing plate, china, and a very considerable settlement, of which he had been generous enough to make me a present. This was an instance of my integrity, which I thought due to a man who had laid me under great obligations; and though I lived to be refused a small sum both by him and S—, I do not repent of my disinterested behaviour; all the revenge I harbour against the last of these lovers, is the desire of having it in my power to do him good.
“Here’s the real reason for my first trip to Flanders: everyone said I was following Mr. B— and the entire army that was sent overseas that summer. Before I left, I also sent Lord B— the dressing plate, china, and a significant settlement that he had kindly given me as a gift. This was a demonstration of my integrity, which I felt was proper towards someone who had done so much for me; and even though I later was turned down for a small amount by both him and S—, I don’t regret my selfless actions. The only grudge I hold against the latter of these two is my wish to be in a position to do him a favor.”
“I now found myself adrift in the world again, and very richly deserved the hardships of my condition, for my indiscretion in leaving Lord B—, and in trusting to the word of Lord — without some further security; but I have dearly paid for my imprudence. The more I saw into the character of this man, whom destiny hath appointed my scourge, the more was I determined to avoid his fellowship and communication; for he and I are, in point of disposition, as opposite as any two principles in nature. In the first place, he is one of the most unsocial beings that ever existed; when I was pleased and happy, he was always out of temper; but if he could find means to overcast and cloud my mirth, though never so innocent, he then discovered signs of uncommon satisfaction and content, because, by this disagreeable temper, he banished all company from his house. He is extremely weak of understanding, though he possesses a good share of low cunning, which has so egregiously imposed upon some people, that they have actually believed him a good-natured easy creature, and blamed me because I did not manage him to better purpose; but, upon further acquaintance, they have always found him obstinate as a mule, and capricious as a monkey. Not that he is utterly void of all commendable qualities. He is punctual in paying his debts, liberal when in good humour, and would be well-bred, were he not subject to fits of absence, during which he is altogether unconversable; but he is proud, naturally suspicious, jealous, equally with and without cause, never made a friend, and is an utter stranger to the joys of intimacy; in short, he hangs like a damp upon society, and may be properly called Kill-joy, an epithet which he has justly acquired. He honoured me with constant professions of love; but his conduct is so opposite to my sentiments of that passion, as to have been the prime source of all my misfortunes and affliction; and I have often wished myself the object of his hate, in hopes of profiting by a change in his behaviour.
“I found myself lost in the world again, and I truly deserved the struggles I faced because of my foolishness in leaving Lord B— and trusting Lord — without any further assurance. I have paid dearly for my recklessness. The more I learned about this man, whom fate has made my tormentor, the more determined I became to avoid his company and communication; we are as different in nature as any two principles can be. First of all, he is one of the most antisocial people I’ve ever met; when I was happy and upbeat, he was always in a bad mood. However, if he could find a way to ruin my joy, no matter how innocent, he would show signs of unusual satisfaction, because his unpleasant demeanor kept everyone away from his house. He is quite lacking in intelligence, even though he has a fair amount of low cunning that has fooled some into thinking he’s a good-natured, easy-going guy, blaming me for not handling him better; but upon getting to know him better, they always find him as stubborn as a mule and as unpredictable as a monkey. Not that he is completely devoid of any admirable traits. He is prompt in settling his debts, generous when in a good mood, and would be courteous if not for his bouts of absent-mindedness during which he becomes completely uncommunicative; but he is prideful, naturally suspicious, jealous for both justified and unjustified reasons, has never made a real friend, and is completely unfamiliar with the joys of close relationships. In short, he casts a pall over society and can justly be called Kill-joy, a nickname he has rightly earned. He showered me with constant declarations of love; however, his actions are so contrary to my views of that emotion that they have become the main source of all my misfortunes and suffering. I have often wished to be the target of his hatred, hoping it might lead to a change in his behavior.”
“Indeed, he has not been able to make me more unhappy than I believe he is in his own mind; for he is literally a self-tormentor, who never enjoyed one gleam of satisfaction except at the expense of another's quiet; and yet with this, I had almost called it diabolical quality, he expects that I should cherish him with all the tenderness of affection. After he has been at pains to incur my aversion, he punishes my disgust, by contriving schemes to mortify and perplex me, which have often succeeded so effectually, as to endanger my life and constitution; for I have been fretted and frighted into sundry fits of illness, and then I own I have experienced his care and concern.
“Honestly, he hasn't made me any more unhappy than he is in his own mind; he’s really a self-tormentor who never enjoyed a moment of satisfaction without taking away someone else's peace. Despite this—what I would almost call a diabolical trait—he expects me to love him with all the tenderness of affection. After he has worked hard to make me dislike him, he then punishes my disgust by creating situations to annoy and confuse me, which have often affected my health and well-being; I’ve been stressed and scared into various illnesses, and during those times, I must admit I’ve seen his care and concern.”
“Over and above the oddities I have mentioned, he is so unsteady in his economy, that he is always new-modelling his affairs, and exhausting his fortune, by laying out ten pounds, in order to save a shilling. He inquires into the character of a servant, after he has lived two years in his family, and is so ridiculously stocked with vanity and self-conceit, that, notwithstanding my assurance before, and the whole series of my conduct since our marriage, which ought to have convinced him of my dislike, he is still persuaded, that, at bottom, I must admire and be enamoured of his agreeable person and accomplishments, and that I would not fail to manifest my love, were I not spirited against him by his own relations. Perhaps it might be their interest to foment the misunderstanding betwixt us; but really they give themselves no trouble about our affairs; and, so far as I know them, are a very good sort of people. On the whole, I think I may with justice pronounce my precious yoke-fellow a trifling, teasing, insufferable, inconsistent creature.
“On top of the odd things I've mentioned, he's so unstable with his finances that he's constantly rearranging his affairs and draining his fortune by spending ten pounds just to save a shilling. He checks the character of a servant only after that person has been in his home for two years, and he's so filled with vanity and self-importance that, despite my previous reassurances and my behavior since our marriage, which should have made him realize my dislike, he still believes that deep down, I must admire and be in love with his charming person and talents, and that I would show my love if it weren’t for the influence of his own family against him. They might have a reason to stir up the misunderstanding between us, but honestly, they don’t seem to care about our situation at all; from what I know, they are quite decent people. Overall, I think I can fairly say that my precious husband is a trivial, irritating, unbearable, and inconsistent person.”
“With the little money which remained of what I had received from his lordship for house-keeping, I transported myself to Flanders, and arrived in Ghent a few days after our troops were quartered in that city, which was so much crowded with these new visitants, that I should have found it impracticable to procure a lodging, had I not been accommodated by Lord B—, the duke of A—'s youngest brother, who very politely gave me up his own. Here I saw my friend Mr. B—, who was overjoyed at my arrival, though jealous of every man of his acquaintance; for he loved me with all the ardour of passion, and I regarded him with all the perfection of friendship, which, had he lived, in time might have produced love; though that was a fruit which it never brought forth. Notwithstanding his earnest solicitations to the contrary, I stayed but a week in Ghent, from whence I proceeded to Brussels, and fixed my abode in the Hotel de Flandre, among an agreeable set of gentlemen and ladies, with whom I spent my time very cheerfully. There was a sort of court in this city, frequented by all the officers who could obtain permission to go thither; and the place in general was gay and agreeable. I was introduced to the best families, and very happy in my acquaintance; for the ladies were polite, good-tempered, and obliging, and treated me with the utmost hospitality and respect. Among others, I contracted a friendship with Madame la comtesse de C— and her two daughters, who were very amiable young ladies; and became intimate with the Princess C— and Countess W—, lady of the bedchamber to the queen of Hungary, and a great favourite of the governor, Monsieur d'H—, in whose house she lived with his wife, who was also a lady of a very engaging disposition.
“With the little money I had left from what I received from his lordship for housekeeping, I made my way to Flanders and arrived in Ghent a few days after our troops settled in the city. It was so crowded with these new arrivals that I would have struggled to find a place to stay if Lord B—, the youngest brother of the duke of A—, hadn’t kindly offered me his own room. There, I reunited with my friend Mr. B—, who was thrilled to see me, though he was a bit jealous of every man he knew. He loved me passionately, while I saw him as a true friend, which, had he lived, might have blossomed into love; although that never came to pass. Despite his strong pleas for me to stay longer, I only spent a week in Ghent before heading to Brussels, where I settled into the Hotel de Flandre, surrounded by a delightful group of gentlemen and ladies, and I enjoyed my time there. This city had a sort of court where all the officers who could secure permission would gather, making the place lively and enjoyable. I was introduced to the best families and was very happy with my connections; the ladies were polite, friendly, and accommodating, treating me with utmost hospitality and respect. Among others, I became friends with Madame la comtesse de C— and her two charming daughters, and developed a close relationship with Princess C— and Countess W—, who was the lady of the bedchamber to the queen of Hungary and a favorite of the governor, Monsieur d'H—, with whom she lived along with his wife, who also had a very charming personality."
“Soon after I had fixed my habitation in Brussels, the company at our hotel was increased by three officers, who professed themselves my admirers, and came from Ghent, with a view of soliciting my love. This triumvirate consisted of the Scotch earl of —, Lord R-M—, and another young officer. The first was a man of a very genteel figure and amorous complexion, danced well, and had a great deal of good-humour, with a mixture of vanity and self-conceit. The second had a good face, though a clumsy person, and a very sweet disposition, very much adapted for the sentimental passion of love. And the third, Mr. W— by name, was tall, thin, and well-bred, with a great stock of good-nature and vivacity. These adventurers began their addresses in general acts of gallantry, that comprehended several of my female friends, with whom we used to engage in parties of pleasure, both in the city and the environs, which are extremely agreeable. When they thought they had taken the preliminary steps of securing themselves in my good opinion and esteem, they agreed to go on without further delay, and that Lord — should make the first attack upon my heart.
“Soon after I settled in Brussels, the company at our hotel was joined by three officers who claimed to be my admirers and came from Ghent to pursue my affection. This trio included the Scottish earl of —, Lord R-M—, and another young officer. The first was a man with a very refined appearance and romantic charm, danced well, and had a lot of good humor mixed with a bit of vanity and self-importance. The second had a nice face, although he had a clumsy build, and a very sweet nature that was well-suited for the sentimental side of love. The third, Mr. W— by name, was tall, thin, and well-mannered, with a great deal of good nature and liveliness. These suitors started their courtship with general acts of gallantry that included several of my female friends, with whom we used to have fun outings in both the city and the surrounding areas, which were quite enjoyable. Once they thought they had laid the groundwork to win my good opinion, they decided to move ahead without delay, with Lord — making the first attempt on my heart.”
“He accordingly laid siege to me, with such warmth and assiduity, that I believe he deceived himself, and began to think he was actually in love; though, at bottom, he felt no impulse that deserved the sacred name. Though I discouraged him in the beginning, he persecuted me with his addresses; he always sat by me at dinner, and imparted a thousand trifles in continual whispers, which attracted the notice of the company so much, that I began to fear his behaviour would give rise to some report to my prejudice, and therefore avoided him with the utmost caution. Notwithstanding all my care, however, he found means one night, while my maid, who lay in my room, went downstairs, to get into my chamber after I was abed. Upon which, I started up, and told him, that, if he should approach me, I would alarm the house; for I never wanted courage and resolution. Perceiving my displeasure, he kneeled by the bedside, begged I would have pity on his sufferings, and swore I should have carte blanche to the utmost extent of his fortune. To these proposals I made no other reply, but that of protesting I would never speak to him again, if he did not quit my apartment that moment; upon which he thought proper to withdraw; and I never afterwards gave him an opportunity of speaking to me on the same subject. So that, in a few weeks, he separated himself from our society; though the ladies of Brussels considered him as my lover, because, of all the other officers, he was their greatest favourite.
“He laid siege to me with such warmth and persistence that I think he actually fooled himself into believing he was in love; although deep down, he felt nothing that truly deserved that title. Even though I tried to discourage him at first, he kept pursuing me with his attention. He always sat next to me at dinner and shared a thousand little whispers that caught the attention of everyone around us, making me worried that his behavior would lead to some gossip about me, so I did my best to avoid him. Despite all my efforts, he found a way one night, while my maid, who was sleeping in my room, went downstairs, to sneak into my room after I was in bed. When I saw him, I jumped up and warned him that if he came any closer, I would raise an alarm; I’ve always had courage and determination. Seeing my anger, he knelt by the bed, begged for mercy for his suffering, and promised that I could have whatever I wanted from his wealth. I simply told him that I would never speak to him again if he didn’t leave my room right then. He decided to back off, and I never gave him another chance to talk to me about that again. As a result, in a few weeks, he distanced himself from our group, even though the ladies of Brussels regarded him as my lover, because among all the officers, he was their favorite.”
“His lordship being thus repulsed, Mr. W— took the field, and assailed my heart in a very different manner. He said he knew not how to make love, but was a man of honour, and would keep the secret, and so forth. To this cavalier address I answered, that I was not angry as I otherwise should have been, at his blunt declaration, because I found by his own confession, he did not know what was due to the sex; and my unhappy situation in some shape excused him for a liberty which he would not have dreamed of taking, had not my misfortunes encouraged his presumption. But I would deal with him in his own way; and, far from assuming the prude, frankly assured him, that he was not at all to my taste, hoping he would consider my dislike as a sufficient reason to reject his love.
“After being turned down, Mr. W— approached me in a very different way. He claimed he didn’t know how to flirt but was a man of honor and would keep my secret, and so on. In response to his boldness, I told him that I wasn't offended, as I might have been otherwise, by his straightforward confession because, from what he said, it was clear he didn’t understand how to treat a woman properly. My unfortunate circumstances somewhat excused him for overstepping a boundary he wouldn’t have dared to cross had my misfortunes not given him the wrong impression. But I decided to meet him on his terms; rather than pretending to be modest, I honestly told him that he wasn’t at all my type, hoping he would take my lack of interest as a good reason to drop his feelings for me.”
“Lord R— began to feel the symptoms of a genuine passion, which he carefully cherished in silence, being naturally diffident and bashful; but, by the very means he used to conceal it from my observation, I plainly discerned the situation of his heart, and was not at all displeased at the progress I had made in his inclinations. Meanwhile he cultivated my acquaintance with great assiduity and respect, attended me in all my excursions, and particularly in an expedition to Antwerp, with two other gentlemen, where, in downright gaiete de coeur, we sat for our pictures, which were drawn in one piece, one of the party being represented in the dress of a hussar, and another in that of a running footman. This incident I mention, because the performance, which is now in my possession, gave birth to a thousand groundless reports circulated in England at our expense.
“Lord R— started to experience real passion, which he quietly nurtured in silence, being naturally shy and reserved. However, through the very methods he used to hide it from me, I clearly saw how he felt and was quite pleased with the way I had captured his interest. In the meantime, he eagerly and respectfully built our friendship, joined me on all my outings, and especially on a trip to Antwerp with two other gentlemen, where, in high spirits, we posed for our portraits. Each of us was depicted in a different outfit—one as a hussar and another as a running footman. I mention this incident because the painting, which I now have, sparked countless unfounded rumors in England at our expense.”
“It was immediately after this jaunt that Lord R— began to disclose his passion; though he, at the same time, started such objections as seemed to extinguish his hopes, lamenting that, even if he should have the happiness to engage my affections, his fortune was too inconsiderable to support us against the efforts of Lord —, should he attempt to interrupt our felicity, and that he himself was obliged to follow the motions of the army. In short, he seemed to consider my felicity more than his own, and behaved with such delicacy, as gradually made an impression on my heart, so that, when we parted, we agreed to renew our correspondence in England.
“It was right after this trip that Lord R— started to reveal his feelings; however, he also brought up concerns that seemed to crush his hopes, expressing that even if he were lucky enough to win my affections, his wealth was too limited to protect us from Lord —’s attempts to disrupt our happiness, and that he had to follow the army’s movements. In short, he appeared to care more about my happiness than his own and acted with such sensitivity that it gradually won my heart. When we said goodbye, we promised to continue our correspondence in England.”
“In the midst of these agreeable amusements, which I enjoyed in almost all the different towns of Flanders, I happened to be at Ghent one day, sitting among a good deal of company, in one of their hotels, when a post-chaise stopped at the gate; upon which we went to the windows to satisfy our curiosity, when who should step out of the convenience, but my little insignificant lord! I no sooner announced him to the company, than all the gentlemen asked whether they should stay and protect me, or withdraw; and when I assured them that their protection was not necessary, one and all of them retired; though Lord R— M— went no farther than the parlour below, being determined to screen me against all violence and compulsion. I sent a message to my lord, desiring him to walk up into my apartment; but although his sole errand was to see and carry me off, he would not venture to accept of my invitation, till he had demanded me in form from the governor of the place. That gentleman, being altogether a stranger to his person and character, referred him to the commanding officer of the English troops, who was a man of honour, and, upon his lordship's application, pretended to doubt his identity; observing, that he had always heard Lord — represented as a jolly, corpulent man. He gave him to understand, however, that even granting him to be the person, I was by no means subject to military law, unless he could prove that I had ever listed in his Majesty's service.
“In the midst of these enjoyable activities, which I relished in various towns across Flanders, I found myself in Ghent one day, surrounded by quite a few people in one of their hotels. A post-chaise pulled up to the gate, which made us rush to the windows out of curiosity, and who should step out of the carriage but my little insignificant lord! As soon as I announced him to the group, all the gentlemen asked if they should stay and protect me or leave. When I assured them that their protection wasn’t needed, they all stepped back, though Lord R— M— didn’t go any farther than the parlor below, determined to shield me from any violence or coercion. I sent a message to my lord, asking him to come up to my room; however, even though his only intention was to see me and take me away, he wouldn’t accept my invitation until he formally requested me from the governor of the place. That gentleman, being completely unfamiliar with his identity and background, referred him to the commanding officer of the English troops, who was a man of honor. Upon his lordship’s request, he pretended to doubt his identity, noting that he had always heard Lord — described as a jolly, overweight man. However, he made it clear that even if he were indeed that person, I was by no means subject to military law unless he could prove that I had ever enlisted in his Majesty's service."
“Thus disappointed in his endeavours, he returned to the inn, and, with much persuasion, trusted himself in my dining-room, after having stationed his attendants at the door, in case of accidents. When I asked what had procured me the honour of this visit, he told me, his business and intention were to carry me home. This declaration produced a conference, in which I argued the case with him; and matters were accommodated for the present, by my promising to be in England some time in September, on condition that he would permit me to live by myself, as before, and immediately order the arrears of my pin-money to be paid. He assented to everything I proposed, returned in peace to his own country, and the deficiencies of my allowance were made good; while I returned to Brussels, where I stayed until my departure for England, which I regulated in such a manner as was consistent with my engagement.
“Feeling let down by his efforts, he went back to the inn and, after much persuasion, allowed himself into my dining room, making sure to have his attendants stationed at the door in case anything went wrong. When I asked what brought him to visit me, he said his purpose was to take me home. This led to a discussion where I laid out my arguments. We reached an agreement for the time being: I promised to be in England sometime in September if he would let me live on my own as before and immediately arrange for my overdue pin-money to be paid. He agreed to everything I suggested, returned peacefully to his own country, and my financial shortfall was resolved. I then went back to Brussels, where I stayed until my trip to England, which I planned in a way that was in line with my commitment.”
“I took lodgings in Pall-mall, and, sending for my lord, convinced him of my punctuality, and put him in mind of his promise, when, to my utter astonishment and confusion, he owned, that his promise was no more than a decoy to bring me over, and that I must lay my account with living in his house like a dutiful and obedient wife. I heard him with the indignation such treatment deserved, upbraiding him with his perfidious dealing, which I told him would have determined me against cohabitation with him had I not been already resolved; and, being destitute of all resource, repaired to Bath, where I afterwards met with Mr. D— and Mr. R—, two gentlemen who had been my fellow-passengers in the yacht from Flanders, and treated me with great friendship and politeness, without either talking or thinking of love.
“I got a place to stay in Pall Mall, and after calling for my lord, I proved to him that I was reliable and reminded him of his promise. To my complete shock and embarrassment, he admitted that his promise was just a trap to get me there, and that I had to accept living in his house like a loyal and submissive wife. I listened to him with the anger such treatment deserved, confronting him about his deceitful behavior, which I said would have made me decide against living with him if I hadn’t already made up my mind. With no other options, I went to Bath, where I later met Mr. D— and Mr. R—, two gentlemen who had been my fellow passengers on the yacht from Flanders, and they treated me with great kindness and respect, without either one talking or thinking about love.”
“With these gentlemen, who were as idle as myself, I went to the jubilee at Preston, which was no other than a great number of people assembled in a small town, extremely ill-accommodated, to partake of diversions that were bad imitations of plays, concerts, and masquerades. If the world should place to the account of my indiscretion my travelling in this manner with gentlemen to whom I had no particular attachment, let it also be considered, as an alleviation, that I always lived in terror of my lord, and consequently was often obliged to shift my quarters; so that, my finances being extremely slender, I stood the more in need of assistance and protection. I was, besides, young, inconsiderate, and so simple, as to suppose the figure of an ugly man would always secure me from censure on his account; neither did I ever dream of any man's addresses, until he made an actual declaration of his love.
“With these guys, who were just as lazy as I was, I went to the celebration in Preston, which was really just a large crowd gathered in a small town, very poorly organized, to enjoy poorly done versions of plays, concerts, and masquerades. If people are going to criticize my poor judgment for traveling with guys I didn’t have a special bond with, they should also consider that I was always afraid of my lord and often had to move around. Since my finances were very tight, I needed help and support even more. I was also young, thoughtless, and foolish enough to believe that looking like an ugly guy would always keep me from being judged because of him; I never considered any guy would have feelings for me until he actually told me he loved me.”
“Upon my return to Bath, I was again harassed by Lord —, who came thither accompanied by my father, whom I was very glad to see, though he importuned me to comply with my husband's desire, and for the future keep measures with the world. This remonstrance about living with my lord, which he constantly repeated, was the only instance of his unkindness which I ever felt. But all his admonitions were not of force sufficient to shake my resolution in that particular; though the debate continued so late, that I told his lordship, it was high time to retire, for I could not accommodate him with a bed. He then gave me to understand, that he would stay where he was; upon which my father took his leave, on pretence of looking out for a lodging for himself. The little gentleman being now left with me, began to discover some signs of apprehension in his looks; but, mustering up all his resolution, he went to the door, called up three of his servants, whom he placed as sentinels upon the stairs, and flounced into my elbow-chair, where he resigned himself to rest. Intending to go to bed, I thought it was but just and decent that I should screen myself from the intrusion of his footmen, and with that view bolted the door. Lord —, hearing himself locked in, started up in the utmost terror and consternation, kicked the door with his heel, and screamed aloud, as if he had been in the hands of an assassin. My father, who had not yet quitted the house, hearing these outcries, ran upstairs again, and, coming through my bedchamber into the dining-room where we were, found me almost suffocated with laughter, and his heroic son-in-law staring like one who had lost his wits, with his hair standing on end.
“After I got back to Bath, I was once again pestered by Lord —, who came there with my father. I was really happy to see him, even though he urged me to go along with my husband’s wishes and to get along with society. This constant push to live with my lord was the only instance of unkindness I ever experienced from him. But none of his advice was enough to change my mind about that; the conversation went on for so long that I had to tell his lordship it was time to leave since I couldn’t offer him a bed. He then made it clear that he intended to stay as he was, so my father excused himself under the pretense of looking for a place to stay. With my father gone, the little gentleman started to show signs of nervousness, but gathering his courage, he went to the door, called three of his servants to stand guard on the stairs, and flopped down into my armchair, where he settled in to rest. Planning to go to bed, I thought it was only fair to protect myself from his servants' intrusion, so I locked the door. Lord —, realizing he was locked in, jumped up in sheer panic and started kicking the door with his heel and shouting as if he were facing an attacker. My father, who hadn’t left the house yet, heard the commotion, rushed upstairs again, and, coming through my bedroom into the dining room where we were, found me nearly choking with laughter and his heroic son-in-law looking completely dazed, his hair standing on end.”
“When my father asked the meaning of his exclamations, he told him, with all the symptoms of dismay, that I had locked him in, and he did not understand such usage. But I explained the whole mystery, by saying, I had bolted the door because I did not like the company of his servants, and could not imagine the cause of his panic, unless he thought I designed to ravish him; an insult than which nothing was farther from my intention. My father himself could scarce refrain from laughing at his ridiculous fear; but, seeing him in great confusion, took pity on his condition, and carried him off to his own lodgings, after I had given my word that I would not attempt to escape, but give him audience next morning. I accordingly kept my promise, and found means to persuade them to leave me at my own discretion. Next day I was rallied upon the stratagem I had contrived to frighten Lord —; and a thousand idle stories were told about this adventure, which happened literally as I have related it.
“When my father asked what his exclamations meant, he told him, looking really upset, that I had locked him in, and he didn’t understand why I would do that. I explained everything, saying I had bolted the door because I didn’t want to be around his servants and couldn’t figure out why he was panicking, unless he thought I intended to harm him, which was the last thing on my mind. My father could hardly stop himself from laughing at his silly fear; but seeing him so flustered, he felt sorry for him and took him back to his own place after I promised I wouldn’t try to escape and would listen to him the next morning. I kept my word and found a way to convince them to let me decide for myself. The next day, everyone teased me about the trick I had pulled to scare Lord —; and a ton of silly stories were made up about this incident, which happened exactly as I’ve just described."
“From Bath I betook myself to a small house near Lincoln, which I had hired of the d— of A—, because a country life suited best with my income, which was no more than four hundred pounds a year, and that not well paid. I continued some months in this retirement, and saw no company, except Lord R— M—, who lived in the neighbourhood, and visited me twice; till, finding myself indisposed, I was obliged to remove to London, and took lodgings in Maddox-street, where my garrison was taken by storm by my Lord — and his steward, reinforced by Mr. L— V— (who, as my lord told me, had a subsidy of five-and-twenty pounds before he would take the field) and a couple of hardy footmen. This formidable band rushed into my apartment, laid violent hands upon me, dragged me down-stairs without gloves or a cloak, and, thrusting me into a coach that stood at the door, conveyed me to my lord's lodgings in Gloucester-street. Upon this occasion, his lordship courageously drew his sword upon my woman, who attempted to defend me from his insults, and, in all probability, would have intimidated him from proceeding; for he looked pale and aghast, his knees knocked together, and he breathed thick and hard, with his nostrils dilated, as if he had seen a ghost; but he was encouraged by his mercenary associate, who, for the five-and-twenty pounds, stood by him in the day of trouble, and spirited him on to this gallant enterprise.
“From Bath, I went to a small house near Lincoln that I had rented from the d— of A—, since a country lifestyle suited my income best, which was only four hundred pounds a year, and that wasn't paid consistently. I spent several months in this quiet place and saw no one except Lord R— M—, who lived nearby and visited me twice; until, feeling unwell, I had to move to London and rented a place on Maddox Street, where I was suddenly overwhelmed by my Lord — and his steward, along with Mr. L— V— (who, as my lord informed me, needed a payment of twenty-five pounds before he would join the effort) and a couple of tough footmen. This intimidating group barged into my room, grabbed me, pulled me downstairs without a coat or gloves, and shoved me into a coach waiting at the door, taking me to my lord's lodgings on Gloucester Street. During this scene, his lordship bravely drew his sword against my woman, who tried to protect me from his advances, and likely would have scared him off; for he looked pale and shocked, his knees trembling, breathing heavily, with flared nostrils as if he had seen a ghost; but he was urged on by his hired ally, who, for the twenty-five pounds, stood by him in a moment of crisis and motivated him for this bold act.”
“In consequence of this exploit, I was cooped up in a paltry apartment in Gloucester-street, where I was close beset by his lordship and his worthy steward Mr. H—, with a set of servants that were the creatures of this fellow, of whom my lord himself stood in awe, so that I could not help thinking myself in Newgate, among thieves and ruffians. To such a degree did my terror avail, that I actually believed I was in danger of being poisoned, and would not receive any sustenance, except from the hands of one harmless-looking fellow, a foreigner, who, was my lord's valet-de-chambre. I will not pretend to say my fears were just; but such was my opinion of H—, that I never doubted he would put me out of the way, if he thought my life interfered with his interest. On the second day of my imprisonment, I was visited by the duke of L—, a friend of my lord, who found me sitting upon a trunk, in a poor little diningroom filled with lumber, and lighted with two bits of tallow candle, which had been left overnight. He perceived in my face a mixture of rage, indignation, terror, and despair. He compassionated my sufferings, though he could not alleviate my distress any other way than by interceding with my tyrant to mitigate my oppression. Nevertheless, I remained eleven days in this uncomfortable situation: I was watched like a criminal all day, and one of the servants walked from one room to another all night, in the nature of a patrol; while my lord, who lay in the chamber above me, got out of bed and tripped to the window at the sound of every coach that chanced to pass through the street. H—, who was consummate in the arts of a sycophant, began to court my favour, by condoling my affliction, and assuring me, that the only method by which I could regain my liberty was a cheerful compliance with the humour of my lord. I was fully convinced of the truth of this observation; and, though my temper is altogether averse to dissimulation, attempted to affect an air of serenity and resignation. But this disguise, I found, would not answer my purpose; and therefore I had recourse to the assistance of my maid, who was permitted to attend me in my confinement. With her I frequently consulted about the means of accomplishing my escape. In consequence of our deliberations, she directed a coach and six to be ready at a certain part of the town, and to wait for me three days in the same place, in case I could not come before the expiration of that term.
“As a result of this situation, I was stuck in a small apartment on Gloucester Street, where I was closely watched by his lordship and his reliable steward, Mr. H—, along with a group of servants who were loyal to this man, and whom my lord himself seemed to fear. I couldn’t help but feel like I was in Newgate, surrounded by thieves and rough characters. My fear was so intense that I truly believed I was at risk of being poisoned, and I refused to eat anything unless it was given to me by one harmless-looking foreigner, who happened to be my lord's valet-de-chambre. I won’t claim my fears were justified, but I was convinced that H— wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate me if he thought my life threatened his interests. On the second day of my confinement, I was visited by the Duke of L—, a friend of my lord, who found me sitting on a trunk in a shabby little dining room cluttered with junk, lit only by two tallow candles that had been left burning overnight. He saw a mix of rage, indignation, terror, and despair on my face. He empathized with my suffering, though he could only help by pleading with my captor to lighten my burden. Still, I remained in this uncomfortable situation for eleven days: I was monitored like a criminal all day, and one of the servants patrolled between rooms all night, while my lord, who was sleeping in the room above me, would get out of bed and rush to the window every time a coach passed by on the street. H—, who was skilled in the ways of flattery, began to win me over by sympathizing with my plight and assuring me that the only way to regain my freedom was to be agreeable to my lord's whims. I completely believed this advice, and although my nature is against pretending, I tried to maintain a façade of calmness and acceptance. However, I found that this act didn’t serve my purpose, so I turned to my maid, who was allowed to attend to me during my confinement. We often discussed how to achieve my escape. Following our plans, she arranged for a coach and six horses to be ready in a specific part of town, to wait for me for three days in case I couldn’t make it before that time.”
“This previous measure being taken according to my instructions, the next necessary step was to elude the vigilance of my guard: and in this manner did I effectuate my purpose. Being by this time indulged in the liberty of going out in the coach for the benefit of the air, attended by two footmen, who had orders to watch all my motions, I made use of this privilege one forenoon, when Lord — expected some company to dinner, and bade the coachman drive to the lodgings of a man who wrote with his mouth, intending to give my spies the slip, on pretence of seeing this curiosity; but they were too alert in their duty to be thus outwitted, and followed me up-stairs into the very apartment.
“This previous measure being taken according to my instructions, the next necessary step was to get around my guard’s watchfulness: and this is how I achieved my goal. By this time, I had been granted the freedom to go out in the carriage for some fresh air, accompanied by two footmen, who were instructed to keep an eye on my every move. One morning, when Lord — was expecting guests for dinner, I decided to use this privilege. I told the coachman to drive to the house of a man who wrote with his mouth, planning to shake off my watchers under the guise of seeing this curiosity. However, they were too alert in their duty to be outsmarted and followed me up the stairs into the very room."
“Disappointed in this hope, I resolved another scheme, which was attended with success. I bought some olives at an oil-shop; and, telling the servants I would proceed to St. James's-gate, and take a turn in the park, broke one of the bottles by the way, complained of the misfortune when I was set down, and desired my coach might be cleaned before my return. While my attendants were employed in this office, I tripped across the Parade to the Horse Guards, and chanced to meet with an acquaintance in the park, who said, he saw by my countenance that I was upon some expedition. I owned his suspicion was just, but, as I had not time to relate particulars, I quickened my pace, and took possession of a hackney-coach, in which I proceeded to the vehicle I had appointed to be in waiting.
“Disappointed by this expectation, I came up with another plan that worked out well. I bought some olives at an oil shop and told the servants I was going to St. James's Gate and would take a walk in the park. On the way, I broke one of the bottles, complained about the mishap when I was dropped off, and asked for my coach to be cleaned before I returned. While my attendants were busy with that, I quickly crossed the Parade to the Horse Guards and happened to bump into an acquaintance in the park, who mentioned he could tell from my face that I was up to something. I admitted he was right, but since I didn’t have time to explain, I hurried my pace and took a hackney-coach to the spot I had arranged to wait for me.”
“While I thus compassed my escape, there was nothing but perplexity and confusion at home; dinner was delayed till six o'clock; my lord ran half the town over in quest of his equipage, which at last returned, with an account of my elopement. My maid was brought to the question, and grievously threatened; but, like all the women I ever had, remained unshaken in her fidelity. In the meantime, I travelled night and day towards my retreat in Lincolnshire, of which his lordship had not, as yet, got the least intelligence; and as my coachman was but an inexperienced driver, I was obliged to make use of my own skill in that exercise, and direct his endeavours the whole way, without venturing to go to bed, or take the least repose, until I reached my own habitation. There I lived in peace and tranquility for the space of six weeks, when I was alarmed by one of my lord's myrmidons, who came into the neighbourhood, blustering and swearing that he would carry me off either dead or alive.
“While I was planning my escape, there was nothing but confusion and chaos at home; dinner was delayed until six o'clock; my lord searched half the town for his carriage, which finally returned with news of my elopement. My maid was interrogated and severely threatened, but, like all the women I’ve known, she stayed loyal. Meanwhile, I traveled day and night towards my hideout in Lincolnshire, which my lord hadn’t learned about yet; and since my coachman was inexperienced, I had to rely on my own skills to direct him the whole way, without sleeping or resting until I reached my home. There, I lived in peace and quiet for six weeks, until I was startled by one of my lord's men, who came into the area, blustering and swearing that he would take me away, dead or alive.”
“It is not to be supposed that I was perfectly easy when I was made acquainted with his purpose and declaration, as my whole family consisted of no more than a couple of women and one footman. However, I summoned up my courage, which had been often tried, and never forsook me in the day of danger; and sent him word, that, if ever he should presume to approach my house, I would order him to be shot without ceremony. The fellow did not choose to put me to the trial, and returned to town without his errand: but as the place of my abode was now discovered, I laid my account with having a visit from his employer; I therefore planted spies upon the road, with a promise of reward to him who should bring me the first intelligence of his lordship's approach.
“I wasn’t exactly at ease when I found out his intentions and statements, especially since my whole family consisted of just a couple of women and one footman. Still, I gathered my courage, which had been tested many times and never let me down in moments of danger, and I sent him a message saying that if he ever dared to come near my house, I would have him shot without hesitation. He chose not to put me to the test and went back to town without completing his task. However, since my location was now known, I prepared for a visit from his boss; so I set up spies along the road, promising a reward to anyone who brought me the first news of his lordship's arrival.”
“Accordingly, I was one morning apprised of his coming, and, mounting horse immediately, with my woman and valet, away we rode, in defiance of winter. In two days I traversed the wilds of Lincolnshire and hundreds of Essex, crossed the river at Tilbury, breakfasted at Chatham, by the help of a guide and moonlight arrived at Dover the same evening, embarked for Calais, in which place I found myself next day at two o'clock in the afternoon; and being heartily tired with my journey, betook myself to rest. My maid, who was not able to travel with such expedition, followed me at an easier pace; and the footman was so astonished at my perseverance, that he could not help asking me upon the road, if ever I was weary in my life. Certain it is, my spirits and resolution have enabled me to undergo fatigues that are almost incredible. From Calais I went to Brussels, where I again set up my rest in private lodgings; was again perfectly well received by the fashionable people of that place; and, by the interest of my friends, obtained the queen of Hungary's protection against the persecution of my husband, while I should reside in the Austrian Netherlands. Thus secured, I lived uncensured, conversing with the English company, with which this city was crowded; but spent the most agreeable part of my time with the countess of Calemberg, in whose house I generally dined and supped. And I also contracted an intimacy with the princess of Chemay, who was a great favourite with Madame d'Harrach, the governor's lady.
One morning, I was informed he was coming, so I quickly got on my horse and, with my lady and valet, rode out, undeterred by winter. In just two days, I crossed the wilds of Lincolnshire and hundreds of miles in Essex, crossed the river at Tilbury, had breakfast in Chatham, and, with the help of a guide and moonlight, reached Dover that same evening. The next day at 2 PM, I found myself in Calais and, completely exhausted from my journey, went to rest. My maid, who couldn't keep up with my pace, followed me more slowly, and the footman, amazed by my determination, couldn’t help but ask me on the way if I had ever been tired in my life. It's true that my spirit and resolve have allowed me to endure almost unbelievable fatigue. From Calais, I went to Brussels, where I once again settled into private lodgings; I was warmly welcomed by the fashionable crowd there, and thanks to the support of my friends, I secured protection from the queen of Hungary against my husband's persecution while I stayed in the Austrian Netherlands. With this security, I lived without criticism, mingling with the English crowd that filled the city, but I spent the best parts of my time with the Countess of Calemberg, where I usually had dinner and supper. I also developed a friendship with the Princess of Chemay, who was highly regarded by Madame d'Harrach, the governor's wife.
“I had not been long in this happy situation, when I was disturbed by the arrival of Lord —, who demanded me of the governor; but finding me sheltered from his power, he set out for Vienna; and, in consequence of his representations, strengthened with the duke of N—'s name, my protection was withdrawn. But, before this application, he had gone to the camp, and addressed himself to my Lord Stair, who was my particular friend and ally by my first marriage, desiring he would compel me to return to his house. His lordship told him, that I was in no shape subject to his command; but invited him to dinner, with a view of diverting himself and company at the expense of his guest. In the evening, he was plied with so many bumpers to my health, that he became intoxicated, and extremely obstreperous, insisted upon seeing Lord Stair after he was retired to rest, and quarrelled with Lord D—, who being a tall, large, raw-boned Scotchman, could have swallowed him at one mouthful; but he thought he might venture to challenge him, in hopes of being put under arrest by the general. Though he reckoned without his host; Lord Stair knew his disposition, and, in order to punish his presumption, winked at the affair. The challenger, finding himself mistaken in his conjecture, got up early in the morning, and went off post for Vienna. And Lord Stair desired a certain man of quality to make me a visit, and give me an account of his behaviour.
“I hadn’t been in this happy situation for long when I was interrupted by the arrival of Lord —, who asked the governor for me. But since I was protected from his authority, he headed to Vienna. As a result of his claims, which were backed by the duke of N—’s name, my protection was taken away. Before making this request, he had gone to the camp and spoke to my Lord Stair, who was a close friend of mine from my first marriage, asking him to force me to return to his home. Lord Stair told him that I was in no way under his control, but he invited him to dinner to entertain himself and his guests at the expense of his visitor. In the evening, he got so many toasts to my health that he became drunk and quite loud. He insisted on seeing Lord Stair after he had gone to bed and ended up arguing with Lord D—, who was a tall, robust Scotchman that could have easily overpowered him. However, he thought he could challenge him, hoping to get arrested by the general. He underestimated the situation; Lord Stair knew his character and, to teach him a lesson for his arrogance, ignored the whole thing. The challenger, realizing he was mistaken in his expectations, got up early the next morning and left for Vienna. Lord Stair then asked a certain nobleman to visit me and inform me about his behavior.”
“Being now deprived of my protection and pin-money, which my generous husband would no longer pay, I was reduced to great difficulty and distress. The duchess d'Aremberg, Lord G—, and many other persons of distinction, interceded in my behalf with his Majesty, who was then abroad; but he refused to interpose between man and wife. The countess of Calemberg wrote a letter to my father, in which she represented my uncomfortable situation, and undertook to answer for my conduct, in case he would allow me a small annuity, on which I could live independent of Lord —, who, by all accounts, was a wretch with whom I could never enjoy the least happiness or quiet, otherwise she would be the first to advise me to an accommodation. She gave him to understand, that her character was neither doubtful nor obscure; and that, if my conduct there had not been irreproachable, she should not have taken me under her protection. That, as I proposed to board in a convent, a small sum would answer my occasions; but, if that should be denied, I would actually go to service, or take some other desperate step, to avoid the man who was my bane and aversion.
“Now that I was cut off from my financial support and allowance, which my generous husband no longer provided, I found myself in great difficulty and distress. The duchess d'Aremberg, Lord G—, and many other notable individuals advocated for me with his Majesty, who was then abroad; however, he declined to intervene between a husband and his wife. The countess of Calemberg wrote a letter to my father, explaining my uncomfortable situation, and promised to vouch for my behavior if he would grant me a small annuity, allowing me to live independently of Lord —, who, by all accounts, was a wretch with whom I could never find happiness or peace; otherwise, she would have been the first to urge me to reconcile. She made it clear that her reputation was solid and well-known; and that if my behavior there had not been beyond reproach, she wouldn’t have taken me under her wing. She noted that since I planned to live in a convent, a small amount would meet my needs; but if that were denied, I would seriously consider getting a job or taking some other drastic action to escape the man who brought me nothing but misery and disgust.”
“To this kind remonstrance my father answered that his fortune would not allow him to assist me; he had now a young family; and that I ought, at all events, to return to my husband. By this time, such was the extremity of my circumstances, that I was forced to pawn my clothes, and every trifling trinket in my possession, and even to descend so far as to solicit Mr. S— for a loan of fifty pounds, which he refused. Thus was I deserted in my distress by two persons, to whom, in the season of my affluence, my purse had been always open. Nothing so effectually subdues a spirit unused to supplicate, as want. Repulsed in this manner, I had recourse to Lord B—, who was also, it seems, unable to relieve my necessities. This mortification I deserved at his hands, though he had once put it in my power to be above all such paltry applications; and I should not have been compelled to the disagreeable task of troubling my friends, had not I voluntarily resigned what he formerly gave me. As to the other gentleman to whom I addressed myself on this occasion, I think he might have shown more regard to my situation, not only for the reasons already mentioned, but because he knew me too well to be ignorant of what I must have suffered in condescending to make such a request.
“To this kind plea, my father replied that his financial situation wouldn't allow him to help me; he had a young family now, and I should, in any case, return to my husband. By this time, my situation had become so desperate that I was forced to pawn my clothes and every small trinket I owned, and I even had to go so far as to ask Mr. S— for a loan of fifty pounds, which he refused. Thus, I was abandoned in my hardship by two people whom I had always supported during my better days. Nothing breaks a prideful spirit like need. Rejected this way, I turned to Lord B—, who also seemed unable to help me. I deserved this disappointment from him, even though he had once given me the means to rise above such trivial requests; I wouldn’t have had to burden my friends if I hadn’t voluntarily given up what he had previously provided. As for the other gentleman I approached this time, I think he could have shown more empathy for my situation, not just for the reasons I've already mentioned, but because he knew me well enough to understand the struggle I faced in making such a request.”
“Several officers, who guessed my adversity, generously offered to supply me with money; but I could not bring myself to make use of their friendship, or even to own my distress, except to one person, of whom I borrowed a small sum. To crown my misfortunes, I was taken very ill, at a time when there was no other way of avoiding the clutches of my persecutor but by a precipitate flight. In this emergency, I applied to a worthy gentleman of Brussels, a very good friend of mine, but no lover. I say no lover, because every man is supposed to act in that capacity who befriends a young woman in distress. This generous Fleming set out with me in the night from Brussels, and conducted me to the frontier of France. Being very much indisposed both in mind and body when I was obliged to undertake this expedition, I should in all probability have sunk under the fatigue of travelling, had not my spirits been kept up by the conversation of my companion, who was a man of business and consequence, and undertook to manage my affairs in such a manner as would enable me to re-establish my residence in the place I had left. He was young and active, attended me with the utmost care and assiduity, and left nothing undone which he thought would contribute to my ease and satisfaction. I believe his friendship for me was a little tinctured with another passion; but he was married, and lived very well with his wife, who was also my friend; so that he knew I would never think of him in the light of a lover.
“Several officers, who sensed my troubles, kindly offered to help me with money; but I couldn’t bring myself to take advantage of their friendship or even admit my struggles, except to one person from whom I borrowed a small amount. To add to my misfortunes, I fell seriously ill at a time when my only option to escape my tormentor was to flee quickly. In this situation, I turned to a respectable man from Brussels, a good friend of mine, but not a romantic interest. I mention that he wasn’t a lover because it’s assumed that any man who helps a young woman in distress is acting in that way. This generous Flemish man set out with me at night from Brussels and took me to the French border. Feeling very unwell both mentally and physically during this journey, I would likely have collapsed from the strain of traveling if it weren't for my companion’s conversation, as he was a businessman of significance who took it upon himself to manage my affairs so I could re-establish my life where I had left it. He was young and energetic, took care of me attentively, and did everything he could to ensure my comfort and happiness. I suspect that his friendship for me had a hint of deeper feelings, but he was married and lived happily with his wife, who was also my friend; so he knew I would never see him as a romantic interest.”
“Upon our arrival at Valenciennes, he accommodated me with a little money, for a little was all I would take, and returned to his own city, after we had settled a correspondence by letters. I was detained a day or two in this place by my indisposition, which increased; but, nevertheless, proceeded to Paris, to make interest for a protection from the king of France, which that monarch graciously accorded me, in three days after my first application, and his minister sent orders to all the governors and intendants of the province towns, to protect me against the efforts of Lord ——, in whatever place I should choose to reside.
“Upon arriving in Valenciennes, he lent me some money, as I only needed a little, and then went back to his own city after we arranged to keep in touch through letters. I was held up for a day or two in this place due to my illness, which got worse; but I still went on to Paris to seek a protection from the king of France. The king kindly granted this to me just three days after my first request. His minister sent orders to all the governors and officials of the provincial towns to protect me against any attempts by Lord ——, no matter where I decided to live.”
“Having returned my thanks at Versailles for this favour, and tarried a few days at Paris, which was a place altogether unsuitable to the low ebb of my fortune, I repaired to Lisle, where I intended to fix my habitation; and there my disorder recurred with such violence, that I was obliged to send for a physician, who seemed to have been a disciple of Sangrado; for he scarce left a drop of blood in my body, and yet I found myself never a whit the better. Indeed, I was so much exhausted by these evacuations, and my constitution so much impaired by fatigue and perturbation of mind, that I had no other hope of recovering but that of reaching England, and putting myself under the direction of a physician on whose ability I could depend.
“After expressing my gratitude at Versailles for this favor and spending a few days in Paris, which was a totally unsuitable place for me given my financial situation, I headed to Lisle, where I planned to settle down. Unfortunately, my illness returned with such intensity that I had to call a doctor, who seemed like a follower of Sangrado; he barely left any blood in my body, and yet I didn’t feel any better at all. In fact, I was so drained from all the bloodletting, and my health was so weakened by stress and exhaustion, that my only hope of recovery was to get to England and see a doctor I could actually trust.”
“With this doubtful prospect, therefore, I determined to attempt a return to my native air, and actually departed from Lisle, in such a melancholy, enfeebled condition, that I had almost fainted when I was put into the coach. But before I resolved upon this journey, I was reduced to the utmost exigence of fortune, so that I could scarce afford to buy provisions, had it been in my power to eat, and should not have been able to defray my travelling expenses, had I not been generously befriended by Lord R— H—, who, I am sure, would have done anything for my case and accommodation, though he has unjustly incurred the imputation of being parsimonious, and I had no reason to expect any such favour at his hands.
“With this uncertain outlook, I decided to try to return to my hometown, and actually left Lisle in such a sad and weak state that I almost fainted when I was put into the coach. But before I made this journey, I had hit rock bottom, barely able to afford food, even if I could have eaten, and I wouldn’t have been able to cover my travel expenses if it hadn’t been for the generous support of Lord R— H—, who I know would have done anything to help me, even though he’s unfairly labeled as stingy, and I didn’t expect such kindness from him.”
“In this deplorable state of health I was conveyed to Calais, being all the way, as it were, in the arms of death, without having swallowed the least sustenance on the road. So much was my indisposition augmented by the fatigue of the journey, that I swooned when I was brought into the inn, and had almost expired before I could receive the least assistance or advice. However, my spirits were a little revived by some bread and wine, which I took at the persuasion of a French surgeon, who, chancing to pass by the door, was called up to my relief. Having sent my servant to Brussels, to take care of my clothes, I embarked in the packet-boat, and by the time we arrived at Dover was almost in extremity.
“In this terrible state of health, I was taken to Calais, feeling as if I was in the grip of death without having eaten anything on the journey. My condition worsened from the fatigue of travel, and I fainted when I arrived at the inn, nearly passing out before I could get any help or advice. However, my spirits lifted a bit when I had some bread and wine, which I took at the urging of a French surgeon who happened to be passing by and was called to assist me. I sent my servant to Brussels to look after my clothes, and by the time we got to Dover, I was almost at my limit.”
“Here I found a return coach, in which I was carried to London, and was put to bed at the house we put up at, more dead than alive. The people of the inn sent for an apothecary, who administered some cordial that recalled me to life; and, when I recovered the use of speech, I told him who I was, and desired him to wait upon Dr. S—, and inform him of my situation. A young girl, who was niece to the landlord's wife, seeing me unattended, made a tender of her service to me, and I accepted the offer, as well as of a lodging in the apothecary's house, to which I was conveyed as soon as my strength would admit of my removal. There I was visited by my physician, who was shocked to find me in such a dangerous condition. However, having considered my case, he perceived that my indisposition proceeded from the calamities I had undergone, and encouraged me with the hope of a speedy cure, provided I could be kept easy and undisturbed. I was accordingly attended with all imaginable care; my lord's name being never mentioned in my hearing, because I considered him as the fatal source of all my misfortunes; and in a month I recovered my health, by the great skill and tenderness of my doctor, who now finding me strong enough to encounter fresh troubles, endeavoured to persuade me, that it would be my wisest step to return to my husband, whom at that time he had often occasion to see. But I rejected his proposal, commencing a new lawsuit for separation, and took a small house in St. James's-square.
“Here I found a return coach that took me to London, and I was put to bed at the inn where we stayed, feeling more dead than alive. The inn staff called for a doctor, who gave me some medicine that brought me back to life; and when I was able to speak again, I told him who I was and asked him to inform Dr. S— about my situation. A young girl, who was the landlord's wife’s niece, saw that I was alone and offered to help me, which I gratefully accepted. I also accepted a room in the doctor’s house, where I was taken as soon as I had the strength to move. There, my doctor visited me and was shocked to find me in such a bad state. However, after assessing my situation, he realized that my illness was due to the troubles I had been through and encouraged me with the hope of a quick recovery if I could stay calm and undisturbed. I received attentive care; my lord’s name was never mentioned around me because I viewed him as the root of all my misfortunes. After a month, I regained my health, thanks to the great skill and kindness of my doctor, who, seeing that I was strong enough to face new challenges, tried to convince me that the best thing I could do was return to my husband, whom he had seen often. However, I turned down his suggestion, starting a new lawsuit for separation, and moved into a small house in St. James’s Square.”
“About this time my woman returned from Brussels, but without my clothes, which were detained on account of the money I owed in that place; and, asking her dismission from my service, set up shop for herself. I had not lived many weeks in my new habitation, when my persecutor renewed his attempts to make himself master of my person; but I had learned from experience to redouble my vigilance, and he was frustrated in all his endeavours. I was again happy in the conversation of my former acquaintance, and visited by a great number of gentlemen, mostly persons of probity and sense, who cultivated my friendship, without any other motive of attachment. Not that I was unsolicited on the article of love. That was a theme on which I never wanted orators; and could I have prevailed upon myself to profit by the advances that were made, I might have managed my opportunities so as to have set fortune at defiance for the future. But I was none of these economists who can sacrifice their hearts to interested considerations.
“About this time, my partner returned from Brussels, but without my clothes, which were held up because of the money I owed there. She asked to leave my service and started her own business. I hadn’t lived in my new place for long when my tormentor tried again to take control of me. However, I had learned from experience to be extra vigilant, and he failed in all his attempts. I was once again enjoying the company of my old friends and was visited by many gentlemen, mostly decent and sensible people, who valued my friendship without any ulterior motives. Not that I was short on romantic attention. That was a topic I never lacked speakers for, and if I had allowed myself to take advantage of the advances made, I could have taken my chances to secure a better future. But I wasn’t one of those people who could sacrifice their feelings for selfish reasons.”
“One evening, while I was conversing with three or four of my friends, my lawyer came in, and told me he had something of consequence to impart; upon which all the gentlemen but one went away. Then he gave me to understand, that my suit would immediately come to trial; and, though he hoped the best, the issue was uncertain. That, if it should be given against me, the decision would inspire my lord with fresh spirits to disturb my peace, and, therefore, it would be convenient for me to retire, until the affair should be brought to a determination.
“One evening, while I was chatting with a few friends, my lawyer walked in and said he had something important to share. All the guys except one left. He then let me know that my case was about to go to trial; and while he hoped for the best, the outcome was unsure. If it went against me, it would give my lord new motivation to disrupt my peace, so it would be wise for me to step back until things were settled.”
“I was very much disconcerted at this intelligence; and the gentleman who stayed, perceiving my concern, asked what I intended to do, or if he could serve me in any shape, and desired to know whither I proposed to retreat. I affected to laugh, and answered, “To a garret, I believe.” To this overstrained reasoning he replied, that if I should, his friendship and regard would find the way to my apartment; and I had no reason to doubt the sincerity of his declaration. We consulted about the measures I should take, and I determined to remove into the country, where I was soon favoured with a letter from him, wherein he expressed the infinite pleasure he had in being able to assure me that my suit had been successful, and that I might appear again with great safety.
“I was really unsettled by this news; and the gentleman who stayed, noticing my concern, asked what I planned to do, or if he could help me in any way, and wanted to know where I intended to retreat. I forced a laugh and replied, “To an attic, I guess.” To this exaggerated reasoning, he responded that if I did, his friendship and support would find a way to reach my place; and I had no reason to doubt the honesty of his words. We discussed the steps I should take, and I decided to move to the countryside, where I soon received a letter from him, in which he expressed his immense happiness in being able to reassure me that my efforts had been successful, and that I could make my appearance again safely.
“Accordingly, I returned to town in his coach and six, which he had sent for my convenience, and the same evening went with him to the masquerade, where we passed the night very agreeably, his spirits, as well as mine, being elevated to a joyous pitch by the happy event of my process. This gentleman was a person of great honour, worth, and good-nature; he loved me extremely, but did not care that I should know the extent of his passion. On the contrary, he endeavoured to persuade me, he had laid it down as a maxim, that no woman should ever have power enough over his heart to give him the least pain or disquiet. In short, he had made a progress in my affection, and to his generosity was I indebted for my subsistence two whole years; during which, he was continually professing this philosophic indifference, while, at the same time, he was giving me daily assurances of his friendship and esteem, and treated me with incessant marks of the most passionate love; so that I concluded his intention was cold, though his temper was warm. Considering myself as an encumbrance upon his fortune, I redoubled my endeavours to obtain a separate maintenance from my lord, and removed from St. James's-square to lodgings at Kensington, where I had not long enjoyed myself in tranquility, before I was interrupted by a very unexpected visit.
“Accordingly, I returned to town in his coach and six, which he had sent for my convenience, and that evening, I went with him to the masquerade, where we had a great time. Both of our spirits were high from the happy outcome of my situation. This gentleman was honorable, valuable, and kind; he cared deeply for me but didn’t want me to know how much he was in love. On the contrary, he tried to convince me that he believed no woman should ever have enough power over his heart to cause him any pain or unease. In short, he had made significant progress in winning my affection, and his generosity supported me for two whole years; during this time, he repeatedly claimed to be philosophically indifferent, while at the same time, he continuously assured me of his friendship and respect, showering me with constant signs of intense love. I thus concluded that his intentions were cold, even if he was warm-natured. Thinking of myself as a burden on his fortunes, I intensified my efforts to secure financial support from my lord and moved from St. James's Square to lodgings in Kensington, where I had just begun to enjoy some peace when I unexpectedly received a visit.”
“While I was busy one day dressing in my dining-room, I found his lordship at my elbow before I was aware of his approach, although his coach was at the door, and the house already in the possession of his servants. He accosted me in the usual style, as if we had parted the night before; and I answered him with an appearance of the same careless familiarity, desiring him to sit down, while I retreated to my chamber, locked the door, and fairly went to bed; being perhaps the first woman who went thither for protection from the insults of a man. Here, then. I immured myself with my faithful Abigail. My lord finding me secured, knocked at the door, and through the keyhole begged to be admitted, assuring me that all he wanted was a conference. I desired to be excused, though I believed his assurance; but I had no inclination to converse with him, because I knew from experience the nature of his conversation, which was so disagreeable and tormenting, that I would have exchanged it at any time for a good beating, and thought myself a gainer by the bargain. However, he persisted in his importunities to such a degree, that I assented to his proposal, on condition that the duke of L— should be present at the interview: and he immediately sent a message for his grace, while I, in peace, ate my breakfast, conveyed in a basket, which was hoisted up to the window of my bedchamber.
“While I was getting dressed in my dining room one day, I unexpectedly found his lordship right next to me, even though his coach was at the door and his servants were already in the house. He greeted me as if we had just seen each other the night before, and I responded with a similar casualness, inviting him to sit down while I retreated to my room, locked the door, and went to bed; perhaps I was the first woman to seek refuge there from a man's harassment. So, I shut myself in with my loyal Abigail. My lord, finding me securely inside, knocked on the door and begged to be let in through the keyhole, assuring me that all he wanted was to talk. I asked to be excused, although I believed him; I just didn’t feel like talking to him because I knew from experience that his conversations were so unpleasant and torturous I would have preferred a good beating, thinking I’d come out ahead in that deal. However, he kept insisting so much that I agreed to his proposal, on the condition that the Duke of L— would be present for the meeting. He immediately sent a message to his grace while I, in peace, had my breakfast, sent up in a basket to the window of my bedroom.”
“The duke was so kind as to come at my lord's request, and, before I would open the door, gave me his word, that I should be protected from all violence and compulsion. Thus assured, they were permitted to enter. My little gentleman, sitting down by my bedside, began to repeat the old hackneyed arguments he had formerly used, with a view of inducing me to live with him; and I, on my side, repeated my former objections, or pretended to listen to his representations, while my imagination was employed in contriving the means of effecting an escape, as the duke easily perceived by my countenance.
“The duke was nice enough to come at my lord's request, and before I would open the door, he promised that I would be protected from any violence or pressure. Feeling reassured, they were allowed to come in. My little gentleman, sitting next to my bedside, started to repeat the same tired arguments he had used before to try to convince me to live with him; and I, in turn, reiterated my previous objections or pretended to listen to his points while my mind was busy figuring out how to escape, which the duke easily noticed from my face.”
“Finding all his remonstrances ineffectual, he quitted the chamber, and left his cause to the eloquence of his grace, who sat with me a whole half-hour, without exerting himself much in behalf of his client, because he knew I was altogether obstinate and determined on that score; but joked upon the behaviour of his lordship, who, though jealous of most people, had left him alone with me in my bedchamber, observing, that he must neither have great confidence in his virtue, or a very bad opinion of him otherwise. In short, I found means to defer the categorical answer till next day, and invited the duke and his lordship to dine with me to-morrow. My wise yoke-fellow seemed to doubt the sincerity of this invitation, and was very much disposed to keep possession of my house. But, by the persuasion of his grace, and the advice of H—, who was his chief counsellor and back, he was prevailed upon to take my word, and for the present left me.
“Finding all his protests useless, he left the room and handed his case over to the eloquence of his grace, who sat with me for half an hour without putting in much effort for his client, knowing I was completely stubborn and set on that point. Instead, he joked about the behavior of his lordship, who, despite being jealous of most people, had left him alone with me in my bedroom, noting that he must either have a lot of trust in his virtue or think very poorly of him in other respects. In short, I managed to postpone the definitive answer until the next day and invited the duke and his lordship to dine with me tomorrow. My wise partner seemed to doubt the sincerity of this invitation and was very inclined to keep control of my home. But, after some persuasion from his grace and the advice of H—, who was his main advisor, he agreed to take my word and left me for the moment.”
“They were no sooner retired, than I rose with great expedition, packed up my clothes, and took shelter in Essex for the first time. Next day, my lord and his noble friend came to dinner, according to appointment; and being informed of my escape by my woman, whom I left in the house, his lordship discovered some signs of discontent, and insisted upon seeing my papers; upon which my maid produced a parcel of bills which I owed to different people. Notwithstanding this disappointment, he sat down to what was provided for dinner, and with great deliberation ate up a leg of lamb, the best part of a fowl, and something else, which I do not now remember; and then very peaceably went away, giving my maid an opportunity of following me to the place of my retreat.
“They had hardly left when I quickly got up, packed my clothes, and took refuge in Essex for the first time. The next day, my lord and his noble friend came for dinner as planned; and after my maid, whom I had left in the house, informed them of my escape, his lordship showed some signs of displeasure and insisted on seeing my papers. My maid then presented a bundle of bills I owed to various people. Despite this setback, he sat down to the dinner that was prepared and carefully ate a leg of lamb, the best part of a chicken, and something else I can’t quite remember; then he calmly left, giving my maid the chance to follow me to my hiding place.
“My intention was to have sought refuge, as formerly, in another country; but I was prevented from putting my design in execution by a fit of illness, during which I was visited by my physician and some of my own relations, particularly a distant cousin of mine, whom my lord had engaged in his interests, by promising to recompense her amply, if she could persuade me to comply with his desire. In this office she was assisted by the doctor, who was my friend, and a man of sense, for whom I have the most perfect esteem, though he and I have often differed in point of opinion. In a word, I was exposed to the incessant importunities of all my acquaintance, which, added to the desperate circumstances of my fortune, compelled me to embrace the terms that were offered, and I again returned to the domestic duties of a wife.
“My plan was to seek refuge, like before, in another country; but I couldn’t carry out my intentions because I fell ill, during which my doctor and some of my relatives came to see me, especially a distant cousin of mine, whom my lord had enlisted in his interests by promising to reward her generously if she could convince me to comply with his wishes. The doctor, who was my friend and a sensible man I respect, assisted her in this effort, even though we’ve often disagreed on various matters. In short, I was constantly pressured by all my acquaintances, and given the desperate state of my situation, I felt forced to accept the terms that were offered and returned to the domestic responsibilities of being a wife.
“I was conducted to my lord's house by an old friend of mine, a gentleman turned of fifty, of admirable parts and understanding; he was a pleasing companion, cheerful and humane, and had acquired a great share of my esteem and respect. In a word, his advice had great weight in my deliberations, because it seemed to be the result of experience and disinterested friendship. Without all doubt, he had an unfeigned concern for my welfare; but, being an admirable politician, his scheme was to make my interest coincide with his own inclinations; for I had, unwittingly, made an innovation upon his heart; and as he thought I should hardly favour his passion while I was at liberty to converse with the rest of my admirers, he counselled me to surrender that freedom, well knowing that my lord would be easily persuaded to banish all his rivals from the house; in which case, he did not doubt of his being able to insinuate himself into my affections; because he laid it down as an eternal truth, that, if any two persons of different sexes were obliged to live together in a desert, where they would be excluded from all other human intercourse, they would naturally and inevitably contract an inclination for each other.
I was taken to my lord's house by an old friend of mine, a gentleman in his fifties, with great character and understanding; he was an enjoyable companion, friendly and kind, and had earned a significant amount of my respect and admiration. In short, his advice carried a lot of weight in my decisions because it seemed to come from experience and genuine friendship. Without a doubt, he truly cared about my well-being; however, being a skilled politician, his plan was to align my interests with his own desires. I had unknowingly affected him emotionally, and since he believed I wouldn't support his feelings while I was free to talk to my other admirers, he advised me to give up that freedom, knowing my lord would easily agree to remove all his rivals from the house; in that case, he was confident he could win my affection. He firmly believed that if two people of different genders were forced to live together in isolation, far away from any other human contact, they would naturally develop feelings for each other.
“How just this hypothesis might be, I leave to the determination of the curious; though, if I may be allowed to judge from my own disposition, a couple so situated would be apt to imbibe mutual disgusts from the nature and necessity of their union, unless their association was at first the effect of reciprocal affection and esteem. Be this as it will, I honour the gentleman for his plan, which was ingeniously contrived, and artfully conducted; but I happened to have too much address for him in the sequel, cunning as he was, though at first I did not perceive his drift; and his lordship was much less likely to comprehend his meaning.
“How valid this hypothesis might be, I’ll leave to the curious to decide; however, if I can judge by my own feelings, a couple in such a situation would likely develop mutual disgust from the nature and necessity of their union unless their relationship was initially based on mutual affection and respect. Be that as it may, I admire the gentleman for his plan, which was cleverly thought out and skillfully executed; but I happened to be too sharp for him in the end, clever as he was, even though I didn’t initially see his intent; and his lordship was far less likely to grasp his meaning.”
“Immediately after this new accommodation, I was carried to a country house belonging to my lord, and was simple enough to venture myself, unattended by any servant on whose integrity I could depend, in the hands of his lordship, and H—, whose villainy I always dreaded; though, at this time, my apprehensions were considerably increased by recollecting, that it was not his interest to let me live in the house, lest his conduct should be inquired into; and by remembering that the very house to which we were going had been twice burnt down in a very short space of time, not without suspicion of his having been the incendiary, on account of some box of writings which was lost in the conflagration. True it is, this imputation was never made good; and, perhaps, he was altogether innocent of the charge, which nevertheless affected my spirits in such a manner, as rendered me the most miserable of all mortals. In this terror did I remain, till my consternation was awakened by the arrival of Mr. B—, a good-natured worthy man, whom my lord had invited to his house, and I thought would not see me ill-used. In a few weeks we were joined by Dr. S— and his lady, who visited us according to their promise; and it was resolved that we should set out for Tunbridge, on a party of pleasure, and at our return examine H—'s accounts.
“Right after this new arrangement, I was taken to a country house owned by my lord, and I was naïve enough to put myself in the hands of his lordship and H—, whose treachery I always feared, without any servant I could trust to look after me. My worries were heightened by recalling that it wasn’t in H—’s interest to let me stay in the house, as it might lead to questions about his behavior. I also remembered that the very house we were heading to had burned down twice in quick succession, with a suspicion that he might have been responsible due to some documents that were lost in the fire. It’s true that this accusation was never proven, and maybe he was completely innocent of the charge, but it still affected my mood so much that I felt utterly miserable. I stayed in this state of fear until I was jolted from my panic by the arrival of Mr. B—, a kind-hearted and decent man whom my lord had invited, and I thought he wouldn’t let me be mistreated. A few weeks later, we were joined by Dr. S— and his wife, who visited us as promised, and it was decided that we would head to Tunbridge for a fun outing and, upon our return, review H—’s accounts.”
“This last part of our scheme was not at all relished by our worthy steward, who therefore determined to overturn our whole plan, and succeeded accordingly. My lord, all of a sudden, declared himself against the jaunt we had projected, and insisted upon my staying at home, without assigning any reason for this peremptory behaviour; his countenance being cloudy, and, for the space of three days, he did not open his mouth. At last, he one night entered my bedchamber, to which he now had free access, with his sword under his arm, and, if I remember aright, it was ready drawn. I could not help taking notice of this alarming circumstance, which shocked me the more, as it happened immediately after a gloomy fit of discontent. However, I seemed to overlook the incident, and, dismissing my maid, went to bed; because I was ashamed to acknowledge, even to my own heart, any dread of a person whom I despised so much. However, the strength of my constitution was not equal to the fortitude of my mind. I was taken ill, and the servants were obliged to be called up; while my lord himself, terrified at my situation, ran upstairs to Mrs. S—, who was in bed, told her, with evident perturbation of spirits, that I was very much indisposed, and said, he believed I was frightened by his entering my chamber with his sword in hand.
“This last part of our plan was not at all appreciated by our esteemed steward, who then decided to sabotage our entire scheme and succeeded. My lord suddenly declared that he was against the trip we had planned and insisted that I stay home, without giving any reason for this abrupt behavior; his expression was gloomy, and for three days he didn’t say a word. Finally, one night he entered my bedroom, to which he now had unrestricted access, with his sword under his arm, and if I recall correctly, it was drawn. I couldn’t help but notice this alarming situation, which disturbed me even more because it happened right after a dark mood. Nonetheless, I tried to ignore it, sent my maid away, and went to bed; I was too ashamed to admit, even to myself, that I feared someone I held in such contempt. However, my physical strength couldn’t match my mental fortitude. I became ill, and the servants had to be summoned; my lord, alarmed by my condition, rushed upstairs to Mrs. S—, who was in bed, and told her, clearly shaken, that I was very unwell and that he thought I was scared by him coming into my room with his sword drawn.”
“This lady was so startled at his information, that she ran into my apartment half naked, and as she went down-stairs, asked what reason could induce him to have carried his sword with him. Upon which he gave her to understand, that his intention was to kill the bats. I believe and hope he had no other design than that of intimidating me; but when the affair happened, I was of a different opinion. Mrs. S—, having put on her clothes, sat up all night by my bedside, and was so good as to assure me that she would not leave me until I should be safely delivered from the apprehensions that surrounded me in this house, to which she and the doctor had been the principal cause of my coming; for my lord had haunted and importuned them incessantly on this subject, protesting that he loved me with the most inviolable affection; and all he desired was, that I would sit at his table, manage his family, and share his fortune. By these professions, uttered with an air of honesty and good-nature, he had imposed himself upon them for the best tempered creature upon earth; and they used all their influence with me to take him into favour. This has been the case with a great many people, who had but a superficial knowledge of his disposition; but, in the course of their acquaintance, they have never failed to discern and acknowledge their mistake.
“This lady was so shocked by what he said that she rushed into my room half-dressed, and as she went downstairs, she asked why he felt the need to carry his sword. He let her know that he intended to kill the bats. I hope and believe that was all he meant to do to scare me; however, at the time, I thought differently. Once Mrs. S— got dressed, she stayed by my bedside all night, kindly assuring me that she wouldn’t leave until I felt safe from the worries that surrounded me in this house, to which she and the doctor had mostly brought me; my lord had been nagging them constantly about it, claiming he loved me with the greatest passion, and all he wanted was for me to sit at his table, run his household, and share his wealth. With his claims expressed so sincerely and kindly, he had fooled them into thinking he was the most well-tempered person on earth; they used all their influence to persuade me to accept him. This has happened to many others who only had a shallow understanding of his true nature, but over time, they recognized and admitted their error.”
“The doctor, on his return from Tunbridge, to which place he had made a trip by himself, found me ill abed, and the whole family in confusion. Surprised and concerned at this disorder, he entered into expostulation with my lord, who owned, that the cause of his displeasure and disquiet was no other than jealousy. He had informed him, that I had been seen to walk out with Mr. Bal— in a morning; and that our correspondence had been observed, with many additional circumstances, which were absolutely false and groundless. This imputation was no sooner understood, than it was resolved that the accuser should be examined in presence of us all. He accordingly appeared, exceedingly drunk, though it was morning, and repeated the articles of the charge, as an information he had received from a man who came from town to hang the bells, and was long ago returned to London.
“The doctor, returning from Tunbridge, where he had made a solo trip, found me sick in bed and the whole family in chaos. Surprised and worried by this mess, he argued with my lord, who admitted that his anger and unease were due to jealousy. He told him that I had been seen walking out with Mr. Bal— one morning, and that our correspondence had been noticed, along with many other claims that were completely false and unfounded. As soon as this accusation was understood, it was decided that the accuser should be questioned in front of all of us. He showed up, extremely drunk, even though it was morning, and recounted the details of the charge, which he had heard from a man who had come from town to hang the bells and had long since returned to London.”
“This was an instance of his cunning and address, which did not forsake him even in his hours of intoxication. Had he fixed the calumny on any one of the servants, he would have been confronted and detected in his falsehood. Nevertheless, though he could not be legally convicted, it plainly appeared that he was the author of this defamation, which incensed Mr. Bal— to such a degree, that he could scarce be withheld from punishing him on the spot, by manual chastisement. However, he was prevailed upon to abstain from such immediate vengeance, as a step unworthy of his character; and the affair was brought to this issue, that his lordship should either part with me or Mr. H—; for I was fully determined against living under the same roof with such an incendiary.
“This was a prime example of his cunning and skill, which didn't leave him even when he was drunk. If he had accused any of the servants, he would have been confronted and caught in his lie. Still, even though he couldn’t be legally charged, it was clear that he was behind this slander, which angered Mr. Bal so much that he could hardly hold back from punishing him right then and there. However, he was convinced to refrain from such immediate revenge, as it would be unworthy of his character; and the situation ended up with his lordship having to choose between keeping me or Mr. H—; because I was completely set against living under the same roof as such a troublemaker.
“This alternative being proposed, my lord dismissed his steward, and we returned to town with the doctor and Mrs. S—; for I had imbibed such horror and aversion for this country seat, though one of the pleasantest in England, that I could not bear to live in it. We therefore removed to a house in Bond-street, where, according to the advice of my friends, I exerted my whole power and complaisance in endeavours to keep my husband in good-humour, but was so unsuccessful in my attempts, that, if ever he was worse tempered, more capricious, or intolerable, at one time than at another, this was the season in which his ill-humour predominated in the most rancorous degree. I was scarce ever permitted to stir abroad, saw nobody at home, but my old male friend, whom I have mentioned above; and the doctor, with his lady, from whose conversation, also, I was at last excluded.
“This alternative being proposed, my lord dismissed his steward, and we returned to town with the doctor and Mrs. S—; for I had developed such horror and aversion for this country house, though one of the nicest in England, that I couldn’t stand living in it. We therefore moved to a house on Bond Street, where, following my friends' advice, I did my best to keep my husband in good spirits, but I was so unsuccessful in my attempts that if he was ever more ill-tempered, capricious, or unbearable, it was definitely during this time when his bad mood was at its worst. I was hardly ever allowed to go out, didn’t see anyone at home except for my old male friend, whom I mentioned earlier; and the doctor, along with his wife, from whose conversation I was eventually excluded as well.
“Nevertheless, I contrived to steal a meeting now and then with my late benefactor, for whom I entertained a great share of affection, exclusive of that gratitude that was due to his generosity. It was not his fault that I compromised matters with my lord; for he was as free of his purse as I was unwilling to use it. It would, therefore, have been unfriendly, unkind, and ungrateful in me, now that I was in affluence, to avoid all intercourse with a man who had supported me in adversity. I think people cannot be too shy and scrupulous in receiving favours; but once they are conferred, they ought never to forget the obligation. And I was never more concerned at any incident of my life, than at hearing that this gentleman did not receive a letter, in which I acknowledged the last proof of his friendship and liberality which I had occasion to use, because I have since learned that he suspected me of neglect.
“Still, I managed to meet up with my late benefactor every now and then, for I had a strong affection for him, alongside the gratitude I felt for his generosity. It wasn’t his fault that I got involved with my lord; he was always generous with his money, while I was reluctant to take it. So, it would have been unfair, unkind, and ungrateful of me, now that I was doing well, to cut ties with someone who supported me during tough times. I believe people should be careful and modest when accepting favors, but once given, they should never forget their obligation. I was never more upset in my life than when I heard this gentleman didn’t receive a letter in which I thanked him for the last act of kindness and generosity he showed me. I later learned he suspected me of neglecting him.”
“But to return to my situation in Bond-street. I bore it as well as I could for the space of three months, during which I lived in the midst of spies, who were employed to watch my conduct, and underwent every mortification that malice, power, and folly could inflict. Nay, so ridiculous, so unreasonable was my tyrant in his spleen, that he declared he would even be jealous of Heydigger, if there was no other man to incur his suspicion: he expected that I should spend my whole time with him tete-a-tete; when I sacrificed my enjoyment to these comfortable parties, he never failed to lay hold on some innocent expression of mine, which he made the foundation of a quarrel; and, when I strove to avoid these disagreeable misinterpretations by reading or writing, he incessantly teased and tormented me with the imputation of being peevish, sullen, and reserved.
“But to get back to my situation on Bond Street. I dealt with it as best as I could for three months, during which I was surrounded by spies who were hired to monitor my behavior and faced every humiliation that malice, power, and foolishness could throw at me. In fact, my tyrant was so absurd and unreasonable in his jealousy that he claimed he would even be jealous of Heydigger if there was no other man to raise his suspicions: he expected me to spend all my time with him one-on-one; when I sacrificed my enjoyment for these so-called enjoyable gatherings, he always found some innocent comment of mine to twist into a reason for a fight; and when I tried to escape these unpleasant misunderstandings by reading or writing, he constantly nagged and tortured me with accusations of being moody, withdrawn, and unfriendly.
“Harassed by this insufferable behaviour, I communicated my case to Dr. S— and his lady, intimating that I neither could nor would expose myself any longer to such usage. The doctor exhorted me to bear my fate with patience; and Mrs. S— was silent on the subject; so that I still hesitated between staying and going, when the doctor, being one night at supper, happened to have some words with my lord, who was so violently transported with passion, that I was actually afraid of going to bed with him; and next morning, when he awakened, there was such an expression of frantic wildness in his countenance, that I imagined he was actually distracted.
“Fed up with this unbearable behavior, I told Dr. S— and his wife about my situation, making it clear that I couldn’t and wouldn’t put up with it any longer. The doctor urged me to accept my fate with patience, and Mrs. S— said nothing about it. So, I was still torn between staying and leaving when one night at dinner, the doctor got into a heated argument with my lord, who was so overtaken by anger that I was genuinely scared to go to bed with him. The next morning, when he woke up, there was such a look of frantic wildness on his face that I thought he might actually be out of his mind.”
“This alarming circumstance confirmed me in my resolution of decamping; and I accordingly moved my quarters to a house in Sackville-street, where I had lodged when I was a widow. From thence I sent a message to the duke of L—, desiring he would make my lord acquainted with the place of my abode, my reasons for removing, and my intention to defend myself against all his attempts. The first night of this separation I went to bed by myself with as much pleasure as a man would feel in going to bed to his mistress whom he had long solicited in vain, so rejoiced was I to be delivered from my obnoxious bedfellow!
“This distressing situation strengthened my decision to leave; so I moved my place of stay to a house on Sackville Street, where I had lived when I was a widow. From there, I sent a message to the Duke of L—, asking him to inform my lord of my new address, my reasons for leaving, and my intent to protect myself against all his attempts. That first night apart, I went to bed alone, feeling as much pleasure as a man might feel going to bed with a mistress he had long pursued in vain, so happy was I to be rid of my unpleasant bedfellow!”
“From these lodgings I soon moved to Brook-street, where I had not long enjoyed the sweets of my escape, when I was importuned to return, by a new steward whom my lord had engaged in the room of H—. This gentleman, who bore a very fair character, made such judicious representations, and behaved so candidly in the discharge of his function, that I agreed he should act as umpire in the difference betwixt us, and once more a reconciliation was effected, though his lordship began to be dissatisfied even before the execution of our agreement; in consequence of which he attended me to Bath, whither I went for the benefit of my health, which was not a little impaired.
“From my new place, I soon moved to Brook Street, where I had barely enjoyed the freedom of my escape when a new steward, hired by my lord to replace H—, pressured me to return. This gentleman, who had a good reputation, made such sensible arguments and was so straightforward in his duties that I agreed to let him mediate our differences. Once again, we reached a reconciliation, although my lord started to feel dissatisfied even before we finalized our agreement. As a result, he accompanied me to Bath, where I went to improve my health, which had suffered quite a bit.”
“This accommodation had a surprising effect upon my lover, who, notwithstanding his repeated declarations, that no woman should ever gain such an ascendancy over his heart as to be able to give him pain, suffered all the agonies of disappointed love, when he now found himself deprived of the opportunities of seeing me, and behaved very differently from what he had imagined he should. His words and actions were desperate: one of his expressions to me was, “It is like twisting my heart-strings, and tearing it out of my body.” Indeed, I never should have acted this part had I foreseen what he would have suffered; but I protest I believed him, when he said otherwise, so much, that his declaration on that subject was the occasion of my giving him up; and it was now too late to retract.
“This situation had an unexpected impact on my boyfriend, who, despite his constant claims that no woman would ever hold enough power over his heart to cause him pain, experienced all the heartache of unrequited love when he found himself unable to see me. He acted very differently from what he thought he would. His words and actions were desperate; one thing he said to me was, “It feels like you’re twisting my heartstrings and pulling it out of my body.” Honestly, I never would have played this role if I had known how much he would suffer; but I truly believed him when he said otherwise, so much so that his statement on that subject was why I decided to leave him, and now it was too late to change my mind.”
“In our expedition to Bath, I was accompanied by a very agreeable young lady, with whom I passed my time very happily, amid the diversions of the place, which screened me, in a good measure, from the vexatious society of my hopeful partner. From this place we repaired to his seat in the country, where we spent a few months, and thence returned again to our house in Bond-street. Here, while I was confined to my bed by illness, it was supposed my indisposition was no other than a private lying-in, though I was under the roof with my lord, and attended by his servants.
“In our trip to Bath, I was with a very pleasant young lady, and I enjoyed my time there quite a bit, surrounded by the fun of the place, which kept me mostly away from the annoying company of my hopeful partner. From there, we went to his country house, where we spent a few months, and then returned to our home on Bond Street. Here, while I was stuck in bed with an illness, people assumed my condition was just a private situation, even though I was under the same roof as my lord and had his servants looking after me.”
“While the distemper continued, my lord, to do him justice, behaved with all imaginable tenderness and care; and his concern on these occasions I have already mentioned as a strange inconsistency in his disposition. If his actions were at all accountable, I should think he took pains to fret me into a fever first, in order to manifest his love and humanity afterwards. When I recovered my strength and spirits, I went abroad, saw company, and should have been easy, had he been contented; but as my satisfaction increased, his good-humour decayed, and he banished from his house, one by one, all the people whose conversation could have made my life agreeable.
“While the illness continued, my lord, to be fair, showed me all the tenderness and care imaginable; and his concern during those times I've already noted as a strange inconsistency in his character. If his actions were at all understandable, I would think he tried to upset me first to show his love and compassion later. When I regained my strength and spirits, I went out, socialized, and would have been fine if he had been content. However, as my happiness grew, his good mood faded, and he gradually sent away all the people whose company could have made my life enjoyable.”
“I often expostulated with him on his malignant behaviour, protesting my desire of living peaceably with him, and begging he would not lay me under the necessity of changing my measures. He was deaf to all my remonstrances, though I warned him more than once of the event, persisted in his maxims of persecution; and, after repeated quarrels, I again left his house fully determined to suffer all sorts of extremity, rather than subject myself to the tyranny of his disposition.
“I often argued with him about his cruel behavior, expressing my wish to live peacefully with him, and pleading with him not to force me to change my approach. He ignored all my protests, even though I warned him more than once about the consequences, and continued with his ways of persecution; after several conflicts, I once again left his house fully resolved to endure any hardship rather than submit to the tyranny of his character.”
“This year was productive of one fatal event, which I felt with the utmost sensibility of sorrow, and I shall always remember with regret:—I mean the death of Mr. B—, with whom I had constantly maintained an intimate correspondence since the first commencement of our acquaintance. He was one of the most valuable men, and promised to be one of the brightest ornaments that this or any other age had produced. I enjoyed his friendship without reserve; and such was the confidence he reposed in my integrity, from long experience of my truth, that he often said he would believe my bare assertion, even though it should contradict the evidence of his own senses. These being the terms upon which we lived, it is not to be supposed that I bore the loss of him without repining. Indeed, my grief was unspeakable; and, though the edge of it be now smoothed by the lenient hand of time, I shall never cease to cherish his memory with the most tender remembrance.
“This year brought one tragic event that I felt deeply with great sorrow, and I will always remember it with regret: the death of Mr. B—, with whom I had kept a close correspondence since we first met. He was one of the most valuable people and had the potential to be one of the brightest minds of this or any age. I enjoyed his friendship fully; and he had such confidence in my honesty, based on our long experience together, that he often said he would take my word alone, even if it went against what he saw with his own eyes. Given this close relationship, it’s no surprise that I didn’t handle his loss well. In fact, my grief was overwhelming; and while the intensity of it has faded with time, I will never stop cherishing his memory with the deepest fondness.
“During the last period of my living with my lord, I had agreed to the expediency of obtaining an act of parliament, which would enable him to pay his debts; on which occasion there was a necessity of cancelling a deed that subsisted between us, relating to a separate maintenance, to which, on certain provisions, I was entitled; and this was to be set aside, so far as it interfered with the above-mentioned scheme, while the rest of it should remain in force. When this affair was about to be transacted, my lord very generously insisted upon my concurrence in annulling the whole settlement; and, when I refused to comply with this demand, because this was the sole resource I had against his ill-usage, he would not proceed in the execution of his plan, though, by dropping it, he hurt nobody but himself; and he accused me of having receded from my word, after I had drawn him into considerable expense.
“During the last period of my time with my lord, I agreed that it would be practical to get a parliamentary act that would allow him to settle his debts. This meant we needed to cancel a deed that was in place between us, related to a separate maintenance I was entitled to under certain conditions. This deed would be set aside only to the extent that it conflicted with the mentioned plan, while the rest would still apply. When we were about to handle this matter, my lord insisted that I agree to annul the entire settlement. When I refused, as it was my only safeguard against his mistreatment, he wouldn’t move forward with his plan, even though by doing so, he was only harming himself. He then accused me of going back on my word after I had put him to significant expense."
“This imputation of breaking my word, which I defy the whole world to prove I ever did, incensed me the more, as I myself had proposed the scheme for his service, although I knew the accomplishment of it would endanger the validity of my own settlement; and my indignation was still more augmented by the behaviour of Mr. G—, who had always professed a regard for my interest, and upon my last accommodation with my lord, undertaken to effect a reconciliation between my father and me; but, when he was questioned about the particulars of this difference, and desired to declare whether his lordship or I was to blame, he declined the office of arbitrator, refused to be explicit upon the subject, and by certain shrewd hums and ha's, signified his disapprobation of my conduct. Yet this very man, when I imparted to him, in confidence, my intention of making another retreat, and frankly asked his opinion of my design, seemed to acquiesce in the justice of it in these remarkable words: 'Madam, if I thought or had hopes of my lord growing better, I would down on my knees to desire you to stay; but, as I have not, I say nothing.'
“This accusation of me breaking my word, which I challenge anyone to prove I ever did, made me even more upset, especially since I came up with the plan for his benefit, even though I knew following through with it could jeopardize my own situation. My anger grew even more due to Mr. G—’s behavior, who had always claimed to care about my interests, and when I last reached an agreement with my lord, he offered to help mend the relationship between my father and me. However, when he was asked about the details of our disagreement and whether my lord or I was at fault, he refused to act as a mediator, avoided giving a clear answer, and through some clever hums and ha's, made it clear he disapproved of my actions. Yet this same man, when I privately shared my intention to make another exit and honestly asked for his opinion on my plan, seemed to agree with its fairness when he said, 'Madam, if I thought or had hope that my lord would improve, I would kneel down to ask you to stay; but since I don’t, I won’t say anything.’”
“If he connived at my conduct in this particular, why should he disapprove of it when all I asked was but common justice? But he was a dependant; and therefore I excuse his phlegmatic, not to call it unfriendly, behaviour. Indeed, he could not be too cautious of giving offence to his lordship, who sometimes made him feel the effects of that wrath which other people had kindled; particularly in consequence of a small adventure which happened about this very period of time.
“If he turned a blind eye to my actions in this case, why would he disapprove when all I asked for was basic fairness? But he was dependent on others; so I can understand his calm, if not unfriendly, demeanor. In fact, he had to be careful not to upset his lord, who sometimes let him feel the consequences of the anger that others had sparked; especially due to a small incident that occurred around this same time.”
“A very agreeable, sprightly, good-natured young man, a near relation of my lord, happening to be at our house one evening, when there was a fire in the neighbourhood, we agreed to go and sup at the tavern en famille; and, having spent the evening with great mirth and good-humour, this young gentleman, who was naturally facetious, in taking his leave, saluted us all round. My lord, who had before entertained some jealousy of his kinsman, was very much provoked by this trifling incident, but very prudently suppressed his displeasure till he returned to his own house, where his rage co-operating with the champagne he had drunk, inflamed him to such a degree of resolution, that he sprang upon the innocent G—, and collared him with great fury, though he was altogether unconcerned in the cause of his indignation.
A very charming, lively, good-natured young man, a close relative of my lord, happened to be at our place one evening when there was a fire in the neighborhood. We decided to go have dinner at the tavern together; and after spending the evening filled with laughter and good vibes, this young gentleman, who had a natural sense of humor, when saying goodbye, greeted us all warmly. My lord, who had previously felt some jealousy towards his relative, was quite irritated by this minor incident but wisely held back his anger until he got home. Once there, fueled by the champagne he had drunk, his rage escalated to such a level that he lunged at the innocent G—, grabbing him furiously, despite the fact that G— had nothing to do with the cause of his anger.
“This extravagant and frantic behaviour, added to other grievances under which I laboured, hastened my resolution of leaving him; and he, to this day, blames his relation as the immediate cause of my escape, whereas he ought to place it to the account of his own madness and indiscretion. When I retired to Park-street, he cautioned all my tradesmen, not even excepting my baker, against giving me credit, assuring them that he would not pay any debts I should contract; and the difficulties to which I was reduced, in consequence of this charitable declaration, together with the reflection of what I had suffered, and might undergo, from the caprice and barbarity of his disposition, affected my health so much, that I was again taken ill, and my life thought in danger.
“This over-the-top and frenzied behavior, along with other issues I was dealing with, pushed me to decide to leave him; and to this day, he blames his family for being the main reason I left, when he should really attribute it to his own craziness and poor judgment. When I moved to Park Street, he warned all my suppliers, including my baker, not to give me credit, promising them he wouldn't pay any debts I incurred; and the challenges I faced because of this kind gesture, along with the memories of what I had endured and what I might still face due to his unpredictable and cruel nature, took such a toll on my health that I fell ill again, and my life was thought to be in danger.
“My constitution, however, got the better of my distemper, and I was ordered into the country by my physicians, for the benefit of the air; so that I found myself under the necessity of keeping two houses, when I was little able to support one, and set up my chariot, because I could not defray the expense of a hackney-coach; for I had as much credit given me as I asked for, notwithstanding my lord's orders to the contrary.
“My health, however, won out over my illness, and my doctors advised me to go to the countryside for the fresh air; so I had to manage two houses when I could barely afford one, and I got a carriage because I couldn’t cover the cost of a hired coach; I was given as much credit as I requested, despite my lord’s instructions to the contrary.”
“Having recruited my spirits in the country, I returned to town, and was visited by my friends, who never forsook me in adversity, and in the summer removed to a house in Essex, where I lived a few months in great tranquility, unmolested by my tyrant, who sometimes gave me a whole year's respite. Here I used to ride and drive by turns, as my humour dictated, with horses which were lent me; and I had the company of my lover, and another gentleman, who was a very agreeable companion, and of singular service to me in the sequel.
“After gathering my spirits in the countryside, I returned to the city and was visited by my friends, who never left my side during tough times. In the summer, they relocated to a house in Essex, where I spent a few months in great peace, free from my tormentor, who sometimes gave me a whole year of relief. Here, I took turns riding and driving, depending on my mood, with horses that were loaned to me. I also had the company of my lover and another gentleman, who was a very pleasant companion and incredibly helpful to me later on.”
“At last, my lord having received intelligence of the place of my abode, and his tormenting humour recurring, he set out for my habitation, and in the morning appeared in his coach and six, attended by Mr. G— and another person, whom he had engaged for the purpose, with several domestics armed. I immediately shut up my doors at his approach, and refused him admittance, which he endeavoured to obtain by a succession of prayers and threats; but I was deaf to both, and resolved to hold out to the last. Seeing me determined, he began his attack, and his servants actually forced their way into the house; upon which I retreated up-stairs, and fortified myself in my apartment, which the assailants stormed with such fury, that the door began to give way, and I retired into another room.
“At last, my lord found out where I was living, and feeling his usual urge to torment me, he headed to my place. The next morning, he showed up in his coach and six, accompanied by Mr. G— and another person he had brought along, along with several armed servants. I immediately locked my doors when he arrived and refused to let him in, no matter how much he prayed or threatened; I ignored him completely and decided to stand my ground. Seeing that I was resolute, he launched his attack, and his servants forced their way into the house. I then retreated upstairs and barricaded myself in my room, but the assailants attacked so fiercely that the door started to give way, and I moved into another room.”
“Whilst I remained in this post, Mr. G— demanded a parley, in which he begged I would favour my lord with an interview, otherwise he knew not what might be the consequence. To this remonstrance I replied, that I was not disposed to comply with his request; and though their design should be murder, I was not at all afraid of death. Upon this declaration they renewed their attacks, which they carried on with indifferent success till the afternoon, when my lord, as if he had been at play, sent a formal message to me, desiring that all hostilities should cease, till after both parties should have dined. At the same time, my own servants came for instructions; and I ordered them to let him have everything which he should call for, as far as the house would afford.
“While I was in this position, Mr. G— requested a meeting, in which he urged me to arrange an interview with my lord, else he was unsure what the outcome might be. In response, I said that I wasn’t inclined to agree to his request; and even if their plan was to kill me, I wasn’t afraid of death at all. After this statement, they intensified their efforts, which continued with varying success until the afternoon, when my lord, as if he had been playing a game, sent me a formal message asking that all hostilities stop until both sides had dined. At the same time, my own servants came for instructions, and I told them to provide him with anything he asked for, as much as the house could accommodate."
“He did not fail to make use of this permission; but sitting down with his companions, ate up my dinner without hesitation, after he had paid me the compliment of desiring to know what he should send up to my apartment. Far from having any stomach to partake of his meal, I sat solitary upon my bed, in a state of melancholy expectation, having fastened the door of the outward room for my security, while I kept my chamber open for the convenience of air, the weather being excessively hot. His lordship, having indulged his appetite, resumed his attempt, and all of a sudden I heard a noise in the next room; upon which I started up, and perceiving that he had got into my ante-chamber, by the help of a bench that stood under the window, I flung to the door of my room, which I locked with great expedition, and opening another that communicated with the staircase, ran out of the house, through a crowd of more than a hundred people, whom this fray had gathered together.
"He definitely took advantage of this permission; but after sitting down with his friends, he devoured my dinner without a second thought, even after he had complimented me by asking what he should send to my room. Completely uninterested in sharing his meal, I sat alone on my bed, feeling melancholic and expectant, having locked the door to the outer room for my safety, while keeping my chamber door open for some air, since it was extremely hot outside. Once he had satisfied his hunger, he started trying again, and suddenly I heard a noise in the next room; I jumped up and realized he had gotten into my ante-chamber using a bench that was under the window. I quickly slammed the door to my room and locked it, then opened another door that led to the staircase, and ran out of the house through a crowd of over a hundred people that this commotion had attracted."
“Being universally beloved in the neighbourhood, and respected by my lord's servants, I passed among them untouched, and took refuge in a neighbouring cottage; while his lordship bawled and roared for assistance, being afraid to come out as he had gone in. Without waiting for his deliberations, I changed clothes with the poor woman who had given me shelter, and in her blue apron and straw hat sallied out into the fields, intending to seek protection in the house of a gentleman not far off, though I was utterly ignorant of the road that led me to it. However, it was my good fortune to meet with a farmer, who undertook to conduct me to the place; otherwise I should have missed my way, and in all probability lain in the fields; for by this time it was eight o'clock at night.
“Being universally liked in the neighborhood and respected by my lord's staff, I moved among them without being noticed and found shelter in a nearby cottage. Meanwhile, his lordship shouted for help, too scared to come out as he had entered. Without waiting for him to make up his mind, I swapped clothes with the kind woman who took me in, and dressed in her blue apron and straw hat, ventured out into the fields, planning to find refuge at a gentleman's house not too far away, although I had no idea how to get there. Luckily, I ran into a farmer who agreed to guide me to the place; otherwise, I would have lost my way and probably ended up sleeping in the fields, since by that time it was eight o'clock at night.
“Under the direction of this guide, I traversed hedges and ditches; for I would not venture to travel in the highway, lest I should fall into the hands of my pursuer, and after I had actually tumbled into the mire, and walked six or seven long miles by the help of a good spirit, which never failed me on such occasions, I arrived at the place, and rung the bell at the garden gate for admittance. Seeing my figure, which was very uncouth, together with my draggled condition, they denied me entrance; but, when they understood who I was, immediately opened the door, and I was hospitably entertained, after having been the subject of mirth, on account of my dress and adventure.
“Following this guide, I made my way through bushes and ditches; I didn’t want to risk traveling on the main road for fear of running into my pursuer. After I managed to stumble into the mud and had walked six or seven long miles, thanks to a good spirit that always helped me out in tough times, I finally reached the place and rang the bell at the garden gate to be let in. Seeing my strange appearance and messy state, they initially turned me away; but once they recognized me, they quickly opened the door, and I was welcomed warmly, even though my outfit and the stories of my adventure became the source of some laughter.
“Next day I returned and took possession of my house again, where I resumed my former amusements, which I enjoyed in quiet for the space of a whole month, waiting with resignation for the issue of my lawsuit; when, one afternoon, I was apprised of his lordship's approach by one of my spies, whom I always employed to reconnoitre the road; and so fortunate was I in the choice of these scouts, that I never was betrayed by one of them, though they were often bribed for that purpose. I no sooner received this intelligence, than I ordered my horse to be saddled, and, mounting, rode out of sight immediately, directing my course a different way from the London road. I had not long proceeded in this track, when my career was all of a sudden stopped by a five-bar gate, which, after some hesitation, I resolved to leap (my horse being an old hunter), if I should find myself pursued. However, with much difficulty I made a shift to open it, and arrived in safety at the house of my very good friend Mr. G—, who, being a justice of the peace, had promised me his protection, if it should be wanted.
The next day, I went back and took possession of my house again, where I went back to my usual activities, enjoying a quiet month while I waited for the outcome of my lawsuit. Then, one afternoon, one of my spies—who I always hired to scout the road—told me that his lordship was approaching. I was lucky with my choice of these scouts; they never betrayed me, even though they were often bribed to do so. As soon as I got this news, I ordered my horse to be saddled, and I immediately rode out of sight, taking a route away from the London road. I hadn’t gone far before I was suddenly stopped by a five-bar gate, which, after a moment’s hesitation, I decided to jump (my horse was an old hunter), in case I was being pursued. However, with a lot of effort, I managed to open it and safely made it to the home of my good friend Mr. G—, who, being a justice of the peace, had promised to protect me if I needed it.
“Thus secured for the present, I sent out spies to bring information of his lordship's proceedings, and understood that he had taken possession of my house, turned my servants adrift, and made himself master of all my movables, clothes, and papers. As for the papers, they were of no consequence, but of clothes I had a good stock; and, when I had reason to believe that he did not intend to relinquish his conquest, I thought it was high time for me to remove to a greater distance from his quarters. Accordingly, two days after my escape, I set out at eleven o'clock at night, in a chariot and four, which I borrowed of my friend, attended by a footman, who was a stout fellow, and well armed, I myself being provided with a brace of good pistols, which I was fully determined to use against any person who should presume to lay violent hands upon me, except my lord, for whom a less mortal weapon would have sufficed, such as a bodkin or a tinder-box. Nothing could be farther from my intention than the desire of hurting any living creature, much less my husband: my design was only to defend myself from cruelty and oppression, which I knew, by fatal experience, would infallibly be my lot, should he get me into his power. And I thought I had as good a right to preserve my happiness, as that which every individual has to preserve his life, especially against a set of ruffians, who were engaged to rob me of it for a little dirty lucre.
“Feeling secure for the moment, I sent out spies to gather information about his lordship's actions, and learned that he had taken over my house, dismissed my servants, and claimed all my belongings, including my clothes and papers. The papers didn’t matter much, but I had a good collection of clothes, and when I realized he wasn’t planning to give up his takeover, I figured it was time for me to move farther away from his location. So, two days after my escape, I left at eleven o'clock at night in a chariot and four, which I borrowed from a friend, accompanied by a sturdy footman who was well armed. I had my own pair of good pistols, which I was ready to use against anyone who dared to lay violent hands on me, except for my lord, for whom a less deadly weapon would have sufficed, like a bodkin or a tinder-box. Hurting any living creature was the last thing on my mind, especially my husband: I merely aimed to defend myself from cruelty and oppression, which I knew from bitter experience would be my fate if he got his hands on me. I believed I had as much right to protect my happiness as anyone does to preserve their life, particularly against a gang of thugs who were set on robbing me of it for some pocket change.”
“In the midst of our journey, the footman came up, and told me I was dogged; upon which I looked out, and, seeing a man riding by the chariot side, presented one of my pistols out of my window, and preserved that posture of defence, until he thought proper to retreat, and rid me of the fears that attended his company. I arrived in town, and, changing my equipage, hired an open chaise, in which, though I was almost starved with cold, I travelled to Reading, which I reached by ten next morning; and from thence proceeded farther in the country, with a view of taking refuge with Mrs. C—, who was my particular friend. Here I should have found shelter, though my lord had been beforehand with me, and endeavoured to prepossess her against my conduct, had not the house been crowded with company, among whom I could not possibly have been concealed, especially from her brother, who was an intimate friend of my persecutor.
“In the middle of our journey, the footman came up and told me I was being followed; so I looked out and saw a man riding alongside the chariot. I aimed one of my pistols out of the window and kept that defensive stance until he decided to back off, relieving me of the fears his presence had caused. I reached the town and, after changing my ride, rented an open carriage. Even though I was nearly frozen with cold, I traveled to Reading, arriving by ten the next morning. From there, I went further into the countryside, hoping to find refuge with Mrs. C—, who was a close friend of mine. I would have found shelter there, even though my lord had gotten to her first and tried to turn her against me, if it hadn’t been for the house being packed with guests, among whom I couldn’t possibly hide, especially from her brother, who was a close friend of my tormentor.”
“Things being thus situated, I enjoyed but a very short interview with her, in which her sorrow and perplexity on my account appeared with great expression in her countenance; and, though it was not in her power to afford me the relief I expected, she, in the most genteel manner, sent after me a small sum of money, thinking that, considering the hurry in which I left my house, I might have occasion for it on the road. I was, by this time, benumbed with cold, fatigued with travelling, and almost fretted to death by my disappointment. However, this was no time to indulge despondence; since nobody could or would assist me, I stood the more in need of my own resolution and presence of mind. After some deliberation, I steered my course back to London; and, being unwilling to return by the same road in which I came, as well as impatient to be at the end of my journey, I chose the Bagshot way, and ventured to cross the heath by moonlight.
“Given the circumstances, I had only a brief conversation with her, during which her sorrow and confusion about me were clear on her face. Even though she couldn’t give me the help I was hoping for, she kindly sent me a small amount of money, thinking that, given how quickly I had to leave my home, I might need it for my journey. By that time, I was freezing from the cold, exhausted from traveling, and nearly driven mad by my disappointment. Still, it wasn’t the moment to dwell on despair; since no one could or would help me, I needed to rely on my own resolve and composure. After thinking it over, I decided to head back to London; and, not wanting to return the same way I came, and eager to finish my journey, I took the Bagshot route and dared to cross the heath by moonlight.”
“Here I was attacked by a footpad armed with a broad-sword, who came up and demanded my money. My stock amounted to twelve guineas; and I foresaw that should I be stripped of the whole sum, I could not travel without discovering who I was, and consequently running the risk of being detected by my pursuer. On these considerations, I gave the fellow three guineas and some silver; with which he was so far from being satisfied, that he threatened to search me for more: but I ordered the coachman to proceed, and by good fortune escaped that ceremony, though I was under some apprehension of being overtaken with a pistol bullet in my flight, and therefore held down my head in the chaise, in imitation of some great men, who are said to have ducked in the same manner in the day of battle. My fears happened to be disappointed: I lay at an inn upon the road, and next day arrived in town, in the utmost difficulty and distress; for I knew not where to fix my habitation, and was destitute of all means of support. In this dilemma, I applied to my lawyer, who recommended me to the house of a tradesman in Westminster, where I lodged and boarded upon credit, with my faithful Abigail (whom I shall distinguish by the name of Mrs. S—), for the space of ten weeks, during which I saw nobody, and never once stirred abroad.
“Here, I was confronted by a mugger armed with a broad sword, who approached me and demanded my money. I had a total of twelve guineas, and I realized that if I lost all of it, I wouldn’t be able to travel without revealing my identity and risking detection by my pursuer. With these thoughts in mind, I handed the guy three guineas and some silver; he was so unsatisfied that he threatened to search me for more. But I told the coachman to keep going, and luckily, I avoided that situation, even though I was worried about being shot during my escape. I kept my head down in the carriage, mimicking some notable figures who supposedly did the same in battle. Fortunately, my fears didn't come true. I spent the night at an inn along the way and arrived in town the next day, facing extreme difficulty and distress; I had no idea where to stay and lacked any means of support. In this predicament, I went to my lawyer, who recommended I stay with a tradesman in Westminster, where I boarded and lodged on credit for ten weeks, along with my loyal Abigail (who I’ll refer to as Mrs. S—), during which time I didn’t see anyone and never went outside.”
“While I was thus harassed out of all enjoyment of life, and reduced to the utmost indigence, by the cruelty of my persecutor, who had even stripped me of my wearing apparel, I made a conquest of Lord D—, a nobleman who is now dead, and therefore I shall say little of his character, which is perfectly well known: this only will I observe, that, next to my own tyrant, he was the person of whom I had the greatest abhorrence. Nevertheless, when these two came in competition, I preferred the offers of this new lover, which were very considerable; and as an asylum was the chief thing I wanted, agreed to follow him to his country seat, whither I actually sent my clothes, which I had purchased upon credit.
“While I was overwhelmed and unable to enjoy life, completely destitute due to the cruelty of my persecutor, who had even taken away my clothes, I managed to win over Lord D—, a nobleman who is now deceased, so I won’t say much about his character, which is well known: I will only mention that, next to my own tormentor, he was the person I hated the most. However, when these two were in competition for my attention, I chose to accept the proposals of this new admirer, which were quite substantial; since I was primarily looking for refuge, I agreed to go with him to his country estate, where I actually sent my clothes, which I had bought on credit.”
“However, upon mature deliberation, I changed my mind, and signified my resolution in a letter, desiring at the same time that my baggage might be sent back. In consequence of this message, I expected a visit from him, in all the rage of indignation and disappointment, and gave orders that he should not be admitted into my house yet, notwithstanding this precaution, he found means to procure entrance; and one of the first objects that I saw, next morning, in my bedchamber, was my lover, armed with a horsewhip, against which, from the knowledge of the man, I did not think myself altogether secure; though I was not much alarmed, because I believed myself superior to him in point of bravery, should the worst come to the worst. But, contrary to my expectation, and his usual behaviour to our sex, he accosted me very politely, and began to expostulate on the contents of my letter. I freely told him, that I had rashly assented to his proposal, for my own convenience only; that, when I reflected on what I had done, I thought it ungenerous in me to live with him upon these terms; and that, as I did not like him, and could not dissemble, such a correspondence could never tend to the satisfaction of either. He allowed the inference was just, though he was very much chagrined at my previous proceeding. He relinquished his claim, restored my clothes, and never afterwards upbraided me with my conduct in this affair; though he at one time owned, that he still loved me, and ever should, because I had used him ill; a declaration that strongly marks the peculiarity of his character. As for my own part, I own that my behaviour on this occasion is no other way excusable, than on account of the miserable perplexity of my circumstances, which were often so calamitous, that I wonder I have not been compelled to take such steps as would have rendered my conduct much more exceptionable than it really is.
“However, after some careful thought, I changed my mind and expressed my decision in a letter, also asking that my belongings be sent back. Because of this message, I anticipated a visit from him, filled with anger and disappointment, and I instructed that he not be allowed into my home yet. Despite this precaution, he found a way to get in; and one of the first things I saw the next morning in my bedroom was my lover, armed with a horsewhip, which made me uneasy given what I knew about him. Still, I wasn't too worried because I believed I was braver than him if it came down to it. But, against my expectations and different from how he usually treated women, he greeted me quite politely and started to discuss the contents of my letter. I told him openly that I had foolishly agreed to his proposal for my own convenience; that upon reflection, I thought it unfair to be with him under these circumstances; and that since I didn't like him and couldn't pretend otherwise, our relationship could never satisfy either of us. He acknowledged that my reasoning was valid, though he was quite upset about my earlier actions. He gave up his claim, returned my clothes, and never criticized me for my behavior in this matter again; though he once admitted that he still loved me and always would, because I had treated him poorly, which really showed the uniqueness of his character. As for me, I admit that my actions in this situation can only be excused because of the terrible confusion in my circumstances, which were often so bad that I’m surprised I didn’t take actions that would have made my behavior even more questionable than it really is.”
“At last all my hopes were blasted by the issue of my suit, which was determined in favour of my lord. Even then I refused to yield: on the contrary, coming out of retirement, I took lodgings in Suffolk-street, and set my tyrant at defiance. But, being unwilling to trust my doors to the care of other people, I hired a house in Conduit-street; and no sooner appeared in the world again, than I was surrounded by divers and sundry sorts of admirers. I believe I received the incense and addresses of all kinds under the sun, except that sort which was most to my liking, a man capable of contracting and inspiring a mutual attachment; but such a one is equally rare and inestimable; not but that I own myself greatly obliged to all those who cultivated my good graces, though they were very little beholden to me; for where I did not really love, I could never profess that passion; that sort of dissimulation is a slavery that no honest nature will undergo. Except one worthy young man whom I sometimes saw, they were a strange medley of insignificant beings: one was insipid, another ridiculously affected, a third void of all education, a fourth altogether inconsistent; and, in short, I found as many trifling characters among the men, as ever I observed in my own sex. Some of them I endeavoured to bring over to my maxims, while they attempted to make a proselyte of me; but, finding the task impracticable on both sides, we very wisely dropped each other.
“At last, all my hopes were shattered by the outcome of my case, which was decided in favor of my lord. Even then, I refused to give up; instead, coming out of retirement, I got a place in Suffolk Street and defiantly faced my oppressor. But, not wanting to rely on others for the safety of my home, I rented a house in Conduit Street; and as soon as I re-entered society, I was surrounded by various admirers. I believe I received compliments and attention from all sorts of people, except for the one type I truly desired: a man capable of forming and sharing a deep connection. But such individuals are both rare and invaluable. That said, I do appreciate everyone who sought my favor, even if they had very little reason to do so; because when I didn’t genuinely love someone, I could never claim to have that feeling; putting on a facade like that is a form of slavery that no honest person should endure. Aside from one respectable young man I sometimes encountered, the rest were an odd mix of unremarkable characters: one was bland, another overly theatrical, a third completely uneducated, and a fourth utterly inconsistent; in short, I found as many shallow personalities among men as I had ever noticed among my own gender. I tried to influence some of them with my beliefs, while they attempted to convert me to theirs; but, finding the effort pointless for both sides, we sensibly parted ways.”
“At length, however, I was blessed with the acquaintance of one nobleman, who is, perhaps, the first character in England, in point of honour, integrity, wit, sense, and benevolence; when I have thus distinguished him, I need scarce mention Lord —. This great, this good man, possesses every accomplishment requisite to inspire admiration, love, and esteem. With infinitely more merit than almost ever fell to one man's share, he manifests such diffidence of his own qualifications, as cannot fail to prepossess every company in his favour. He seems to observe nothing, yet sees everything; his manner of telling a story, and making trifles elegant, is peculiar to himself; and, though he has a thousand oddities, they serve only to make him more agreeable. After what I have said, it may be supposed that I was enamoured of his person; but this was not the case; love is altogether capricious and fanciful; yet I admire, honour, and esteem him to the highest degree, and when I observe that his character resembled that of my dear departed friend Mr. B—; or rather, that Mr. B—, had he lived, would have resembled Lord —, I pay the highest compliment I can conceive both to the living and to the dead.
“At last, though, I had the privilege of meeting a nobleman who is probably the most honorable, honest, witty, sensible, and kind person in England; and as soon as I mention him, you’ll know it’s Lord —. This remarkable and good man has every quality that inspires admiration, love, and respect. With far more merit than most people could ever have, he shows such humility about his own abilities that it wins over everyone around him. He seems to notice nothing, yet sees everything; his way of telling a story and elevating small moments is uniquely his own; and although he has a thousand quirks, they only make him more likable. After what I've said, you might assume that I was infatuated with him, but that's not true; love is entirely unpredictable and fanciful. However, I admire, honor, and respect him to the highest degree, and when I see how his character is similar to that of my dear late friend Mr. B—; or rather, that Mr. B—, if he had lived, would have been like Lord —, I pay the greatest compliment I can imagine to both the living and the dead.”
“In this nobleman's friendship and conversation I thought myself happy; though I was, as usual, exposed to the indefatigable efforts of my lord, who, one day, while I was favoured with the company of this generous friend, appeared at my door in his coach, attended by another gentleman, who demanded entrance with an air of authority. A very honest footman, who had been long in my service, ran upstairs in the utmost consternation, and gave me an account of what had happened below. Upon which I told him he had nothing to answer for, and ordered him to keep the door fast shut against all opposition; though I was so much affected with this unexpected assault, that Lord — said he was never more surprised and shocked in his life, than at the horror which appeared in my countenance, when I saw the coach stop at my door.
"In this nobleman's friendship and conversation, I felt happy; even though, as usual, I was subjected to the relentless efforts of my lord. One day, while I was enjoying the company of this generous friend, he showed up at my door in his coach, accompanied by another gentleman who demanded to be let in with an air of authority. A very honest footman, who had been in my service for a long time, ran upstairs in complete panic and told me what had happened below. I reassured him that he had nothing to worry about and ordered him to keep the door firmly shut against any intruders. However, I was so rattled by this unexpected intrusion that Lord — said he had never been more surprised and shocked in his life than by the horror that showed on my face when I saw the coach stop at my door."
“My little hero being refused admittance, went away, threatening to return speedily with a reinforcement; and during this interval, I provided myself with a soldier, whom I placed sentinel at the door, within side, to guard me from the danger of such assaults for the future. My lord, true to his promise, marched back with his auxiliaries, reinforced with a constable, and repeated his demand of being admitted; and my soldier opening the sash, in order to answer him, according to my directions, he no sooner perceived the red coat, than he was seized with such a panic, that he instantly fled with great precipitation; and, when he recounted the adventure, like Falstaff in the play, multiplied my guard into a whole file of musqueteers. He also made a shift to discover the gentleman who had been so kind as to lend me one of his company, and complained of him to the duke of N—, in hopes of seeing him broke for his misdemeanour; but in that expectation he was luckily disappointed.
“My little hero, denied entry, left with a promise to return quickly with backup. In the meantime, I secured a soldier to stand guard at the door inside to protect me from future attacks. My lord, keeping his word, returned with his reinforcements, now accompanied by a constable, and renewed his request to be let in. When my soldier opened the window to respond as I had instructed, he immediately panicked upon seeing the red coat and fled in a hurry. When he recounted the incident, he exaggerated my guard into a full line of soldiers. He also managed to identify the gentleman who had generously lent me one of his men and complained about him to the duke of N—, hoping he would be dismissed for his misconduct; thankfully, he was disappointed in that expectation."
“Perceiving that in England I should never enjoy peace, but be continually subject to those alarms and disquiets which had already impaired my health and spirits, I resolved to repair again to France, my best refuge and sure retreat from the persecution of my tyrant. Yet, before I took this step, I endeavoured, by the advice of my friends, to conceal myself near Windsor; but was in a little time discovered by my lord, and hunted out of my lurking-place accordingly. I then removed to Chelsea, where I suffered inconceivable uneasiness and agitation of mind, from the nature of my situation, my tranquility being thus incessantly invaded by a man who could not be satisfied with me, and yet could not live without me. So that, though I was very much indisposed, I set out for France, by way of the Hague, as the war had shut up all other communication, having no other attendant but my woman S—, who, though she dreaded the sea, and was upon the brink of matrimony, would not quit me in such a calamitous condition, until I was joined by my footman and another maid, whom I ordered to follow me with the baggage. But, before my departure, I sent a message to Lord —, demanding my clothes, which he had seized in Essex; and, he refusing to deliver them, I was obliged to equip myself anew, upon credit.
“Realizing that I would never find peace in England and would constantly face the alarms and worries that had already affected my health and spirits, I decided to go back to France, my best refuge and a safe escape from my tormentor. However, before making this move, I tried, with my friends' advice, to hide near Windsor; but I was soon discovered by my lord and driven out of my hiding place. I then moved to Chelsea, where I experienced unbearable anxiety and mental turmoil due to my situation, as my peace was constantly disrupted by a man who was never satisfied with me but couldn’t live without me. Therefore, even though I was quite unwell, I set off for France via the Hague, since the war had closed off all other routes, accompanied only by my woman S—, who, despite her fear of the sea and being on the verge of marriage, refused to leave me in such a dire situation until my footman and another maid, whom I instructed to follow with the luggage, joined us. Before I left, I sent a message to Lord —, asking for my clothes, which he had taken in Essex; when he refused to return them, I had no choice but to buy new ones on credit.”
“I was supplied with money for my journey by my good friend L—; and, after a short and pleasant passage, arrived at the Hague, where I stayed two months, and parted with S—, on whom I settled an annuity of five-and-twenty pounds, payable out of the provision which I had or might obtain from my husband. The same allowance had I prevailed upon Lord B— to grant to another maid, who attended me while I lived in his house.
“I received money for my trip from my good friend L—; and, after a brief and enjoyable journey, I arrived at The Hague, where I stayed for two months. I parted ways with S—, to whom I agreed to pay an annuity of twenty-five pounds, which would come from the support I had or could get from my husband. I also convinced Lord B— to provide the same allowance to another maid who was with me while I stayed at his house.”
“I did not much relish the people in Holland, because they seemed entirely devoted to self-interest, without any taste for pleasure or politeness; a species of disposition that could not be very agreeable to me, who always despised money, had an unbounded benevolence of heart, and loved pleasure beyond every other consideration. When I say pleasure, I would not be understood to mean sensuality, which constitutes the supreme happiness of those only who are void of sentiment and imagination. Nevertheless, I received some civilities in this place, and, among the rest, the reputation of having for my lover the king of P—'s minister, who was young and airy, and visited me often; circumstances that were sufficient to lay me under the imputation of an amour, which I frequently incurred without having given the least cause of suspicion.
“I didn't really enjoy the people in Holland because they seemed completely focused on their own interests, with no appreciation for fun or manners; a type of attitude that wasn't very appealing to me, as I always looked down on money, had a huge generosity of heart, and valued enjoyment above all else. When I say enjoyment, I don’t mean just physical pleasure, which is the ultimate happiness for those who lack feeling and imagination. Still, I did receive some kindness here, including the rumor that I was romantically involved with the young and charming minister of the king of P—, who visited me often; this was enough for people to suspect I was having an affair, even though I never gave any real reason for such speculation.”
“Having taken leave of my Dutch friends, I departed from the Hague, in company with an English woman, whom I had chosen for that purpose, and arrived at Antwerp with much difficulty and danger, the highway being infested with robbers. After having reposed myself a few days in this city, I hired a coach for myself, and set out with my companion for Brussels; but, before we reached Mechlin, our vehicle was attacked by two hussars, who, with their sabres drawn, obliged the coachman to drive into a wood near the road. I at first imagined that they wanted to examine our passports, but was soon too well convinced of their design; and, though very much shocked at the discovery, found resolution enough to suppress my concern, so that it should not aggravate the terrors of the young woman, who had almost died with apprehension. I even encouraged her to hope for the best; and, addressing myself to the robbers in French, begged, in the most suppliant manner, that they would spare our lives; upon which one of them, who was a little fellow, assured me, in the same language, that we had nothing to fear for our persons.
“After saying goodbye to my Dutch friends, I left The Hague with an English woman I had chosen to accompany me and arrived in Antwerp with a lot of difficulty and danger, since the roads were filled with robbers. After resting for a few days in the city, I hired a coach for myself and set off with my companion for Brussels. However, before we reached Mechlin, our vehicle was stopped by two hussars who, with their sabers drawn, forced the coachman to drive into a wooded area off the road. At first, I thought they wanted to check our passports, but I quickly realized their true intentions. Although I was shocked by this discovery, I managed to hide my worry so it wouldn’t add to the fears of the young woman, who was nearly paralyzed with fear. I even encouraged her to stay hopeful and, addressing the robbers in French, pleaded with them in the most humble way to spare our lives. One of them, who was rather short, assured me in the same language that we had nothing to fear for our lives.”
“When we were conveyed in a state of dreadful suspense about three-quarters of a mile into the wood, the ruffians came into the coach, and, taking my keys, which I kept ready in my hand for them, opened three large trunks that contained my baggage, and emptying them of everything but my hoops and a few books, packed up their booty in a cloth; then robbed me of my money and jewels, even to my shoe-buckles and sleeve-buttons, took my footman's laced hat, and gave it, by way of gratification, to a peasant, who came from behind the bushes, and assisted them in packing.
“When we were taken into the woods, filled with terrible dread, about three-quarters of a mile in, the thugs got into the coach and, taking my keys, which I had ready for them, opened three large trunks that held my things. They emptied the trunks of everything except my hoop skirts and a few books, packing their loot in a cloth. Then they stole my money and jewelry, even my shoe buckles and sleeve buttons, took my footman's fancy hat, and handed it to a peasant who had come out from behind the bushes to help them pack.”
“This affair being despatched, they ordered us to return to the road by a different way from that in which we were carried into the wood; and mounting their horses, rode off with the plunder, though not before the little fellow, who was the least ferocious of the two, had come and shaken me by the hand, wishing us a good journey; a compliment which I heartily returned, being extremely well pleased with the retreat of two such companions, who had detained us a whole half-hour; during which, notwithstanding the assurance I had received, I was in continual apprehension of seeing their operation concluded with the murder of us all; for I supposed they were of that gang who had some time before murdered a French officer, and used a lady extremely ill, after having rifled her of all she had.
“This situation wrapped up, they told us to take a different route back to the road than the one that brought us into the woods; and after getting on their horses, they rode off with the loot, but not before the smaller one, who seemed the least aggressive of the two, came over and shook my hand, wishing us a safe journey—a polite gesture that I sincerely reciprocated, feeling quite relieved to see the back of two such companions who had held us for an entire half-hour; during which, despite the reassurance I was given, I was constantly worried that their actions might end with our murder, since I thought they were part of the gang that had, some time earlier, killed a French officer and treated a lady very poorly after robbing her of everything she had.
“Having thus undergone pillage, and being reduced to the extremity of indigence in a foreign land, it is not to be supposed that my reflections were very comfortable; and yet, though I sustained the whole damage, I was the only person in the company who bore the accident with any resolution and presence of mind. My coachman and valet seemed quite petrified with fear; and it was not till I had repeated my directions that the former drove farther into the wood, and took the first turning to the right, in order to regain the road, according to the command of the robbers, which I did not choose to disobey.
“After being robbed and left in complete poverty in a foreign land, it’s clear my thoughts weren’t very pleasant; however, even though I suffered all the loss, I was the only one in the group who handled the situation with any composure and sense. My driver and servant looked completely frozen with fear, and it wasn’t until I repeated my instructions that the driver moved further into the woods and took the first right turn to get back to the road, following the orders of the robbers, which I didn’t feel I could ignore.”
“This misfortune I suffered by the misinformation I received at Antwerp, where I would have provided myself with an escort, had not I been assured that there was not the least occasion to put myself to such extraordinary expense. And, indeed, the robbers took the only half-hour in which they could have had an opportunity of plundering us; for we no sooner returned into the highway, than we met with the French artillery coming from Brussels, which was a security to us during the rest of our journey. We were afterwards informed at a small village, that there was actually a large gang of deserters, who harboured in that wood, from which they made excursions in the neighbourhood, and kept the peasants in continual alarms.
“This misfortune happened to me because of the incorrect information I received in Antwerp, where I would have hired an escort if I hadn’t been told that there was no need to spend that extra money. In fact, the robbers only chose the one half-hour when they could have attacked us; as soon as we got back on the main road, we encountered the French artillery coming from Brussels, which kept us safe for the rest of our trip. Later, we learned in a small village that there was actually a large group of deserters hiding in that forest, from which they would venture out into the area and keep the peasants constantly on edge.
“Having proceeded a little way, we were stopped by the artillery crossing a bridge; and, as the train was very long, must have been detained till night, had not a soldier informed me, that, if I would take the trouble to come out of my coach, and apply to the commandant, he would order them to halt, and allow me to pass. I took the man's advice, and was by him conducted, with much difficulty, through the crowd, to some officers, who seemed scarce to deserve the name; for, when I signified my request, they neither rose up, nor desired me to sit down; but, lolling in their chairs, with one leg stretched out, asked, with an air of disrespectful raillery where I was going; and when I answered, “To Paris,” desired to know what I would do there.
“After moving a short distance, we were held up by the artillery crossing a bridge; and since the train was really long, we would have been stuck until night if a soldier hadn’t told me that if I stepped out of my coach and talked to the commandant, he would order them to stop and let me through. I took the soldier's advice and he led me, with great difficulty, through the crowd to some officers who hardly seemed to deserve the title; because when I made my request, they neither stood up nor asked me to sit down. Instead, lounging in their chairs with one leg stretched out, they disrespectfully joked about where I was going. When I answered, “To Paris,” they asked what I planned to do there.
“I, who am naturally civil where I am civilly used, and saucy enough where I think myself treated with disregard, was very much piqued at their insolent and unmannerly behaviour, and began to reply to the impertinent questions very abruptly; so that a very tart dialogue would have ensued, had not the conversation been interrupted by a tall, thin, genteel young French nobleman, an officer in the army, who, chancing to come in, asked with great politeness, what I would please to have. I then repeated my desire, and produced my passports, by which he learned who I was. He immediately gave orders that my coach should pass; and afterwards visited me at Paris, having obtained my permission, and taken my address at parting; while the others, understanding my name and quality, asked pardon for their impolite carriage, which they told me was owing to the representation of the soldier, who gave them to understand that I was a strolling actress.
“I, who am usually polite when treated well, and a bit cheeky when I feel disrespected, was really irritated by their rude and inappropriate behavior, and I started to respond sharply to their nosy questions. A pretty heated conversation would have followed if a tall, thin, stylish young French nobleman, an officer in the army, hadn't walked in and asked very politely what I would like. I then repeated my request and showed him my passports, which let him know who I was. He immediately ordered that my coach be allowed through, and later visited me in Paris after getting my permission and my address when we parted ways. The others, realizing my name and status, apologized for their rude behavior, explaining that it was based on the soldier's misunderstanding, who made them think I was just a traveling actress.”
“I could not help laughing heartily at this mistake, which might have proceeded from the circumstances of my appearance, my footman having been obliged to change hats with the peasant, and myself being without buckles on my shoes and buttons on my riding-skirt, while my countenance still retained marks of the fear and confusion I had undergone. After all, perhaps the fellow was a droll, and wanted to entertain himself at my expense. The day was so far consumed in these adventures, that I was obliged to take up my lodgings at Mechlin, where I addressed myself to the intendant, giving him an account of the disaster I had met with, and desiring I might have credit at the inn, as our whole company could not raise the value of a sixpence. This gentleman, though a provincial, was polite in his way, and not only granted my request, but invited me to lodge at his own house. I accordingly gave him my company at supper, but did not choose to sleep at his quarters, because he appeared to be what the French call un vieux debauche.
"I couldn't help laughing out loud at this mistake, which might have come from how I looked—my footman had to swap hats with a peasant, and I was without buckles on my shoes and buttons on my riding skirt, while my face still showed signs of the fear and confusion I had experienced. After all, maybe the guy was just a jokester and wanted to have some fun at my expense. The day had been so filled with adventures that I had to find a place to stay in Mechlin, where I spoke to the innkeeper, explaining what had happened to me and asking if I could get credit at the inn since our whole group couldn’t even gather enough for a sixpence. This guy, even though he was from the provinces, was polite in his own way and not only agreed to my request but also invited me to stay at his own house. I accepted his invitation for dinner, but I didn’t want to sleep at his place because he seemed like what the French call un vieux debauche."
“Next day, he sent a trumpet to the general, with a detail of my misfortune, in hopes of retrieving what I had lost; but, notwithstanding all possible search, I was fain to put up with my damage, which, in linen, laces, clothes, and baubles, amounted to upwards of seven hundred pounds, a loss which never deprived me of one moment's rest; for, though I lodged at a miserable inn, and lay in a paltry bed, I slept as sound as if nothing extraordinary had happened, after I had written to London and Paris, directing that the payment of my bills of credit might be stopped. Indeed, I know of but two misfortunes in life capable of depressing my spirits, namely, the loss of health and friends; all others may be prevented or endured. The articles of that calamity which I chiefly regretted, were a picture of Lord W—, and some inimitable letters from Mr. B—.
“On the next day, he sent a message to the general detailing my misfortune, hoping to recover what I had lost; but despite all efforts to search, I had to accept my losses, which included linen, laces, clothes, and trinkets, totaling over seven hundred pounds. This loss never kept me from getting a good night's sleep; even though I stayed in a terrible inn and slept in a shabby bed, I rested as soundly as if nothing unusual had happened, after I had written to London and Paris to stop payment on my credit bills. In fact, I can only think of two things in life that can truly bring me down: losing my health and my friends; everything else can either be avoided or endured. The items from that disaster I regretted the most were a portrait of Lord W— and some priceless letters from Mr. B—."
“From Mechlin I proceeded to Brussels, where, being known, I got credit for some necessaries, and borrowed twenty guineas to defray the expense of my journey to Paris. Having consulted with my friends about the safest method of travelling through Flanders, I was persuaded to take places in the public voiture; and accordingly departed, not without fears of finding one part of the country as much infested with robbers as another. Nor were these apprehensions assuaged by the conversation of my fellow-travellers, who, being of the lower sort of people, that delight in exaggerating dangers, entertained me all the way with an account of all the robberies and murders which had been committed on that road, with many additional circumstances of their own invention. After having been two days exposed to this comfortable conversation, among very disagreeable company, which is certainly one of the most disagreeable situations in life, I arrived at Lisle, where, thinking the dangerous part of the journey was now past, I hired a post-chaise, and in two days more reached Paris without any further molestation.
“From Mechlin, I went to Brussels, where I was recognized and could get credit for some essentials, and I borrowed twenty guineas to cover my travel costs to Paris. After talking with my friends about the safest way to travel through Flanders, I decided to take seats in the public carriage; and so I set off, not without worries about finding parts of the country just as plagued by robbers as others. My fears weren’t eased by the chatter of my fellow travelers, who were from the lower class and loved to exaggerate dangers. They entertained me the entire way with tales of robberies and murders that had taken place on that road, adding in many details of their own making. After two days of being subjected to this cheerful conversation among very unpleasant company, which is definitely one of the most unenjoyable situations in life, I arrived in Lisle, where I thought the dangerous part of the journey was behind me. I hired a post-chaise and reached Paris in two more days without any further trouble.”
“Upon my arrival in the capital, I was immediately visited by my old acquaintances, who, hearing my disaster, offered me their clothes, and insisted upon my wearing them, until I could be otherwise provided. They likewise engaged me in parties, with a view of amusing my imagination, that I might not grow melancholy in reflecting upon my loss; and desired me to repeat the particulars of my story forty times over, expressing great surprise at our not being murdered, or ravished at least. As for this last species of outrage, the fear of it never once entered my head, otherwise I should have been more shocked and alarmed than I really was. But it seems this was the chief circumstance of my companion's apprehension; and I cannot help observing, that a homely woman is always more apt to entertain those fears, than one whose person exposes her to much more imminent danger. However, I now learned, that the risk I ran was much greater than I imagined it to be, those ruffians being familiarized to rape as well as murder.
“Upon arriving in the capital, my old friends immediately came to visit me. Hearing about my misfortune, they offered me their clothes and insisted that I wear them until I could find something else. They also took me out with the intention of distracting me so I wouldn’t dwell on my loss, asking me to recount my story over and over again, showing great surprise that we weren’t murdered or assaulted. As for that last fear, it never crossed my mind; if it had, I would have been more shocked and scared than I actually was. But it seemed that my companion was primarily worried about that, and I can’t help but notice that less attractive women tend to have those fears more than those who are in greater danger due to their looks. However, I now learned that the threat I faced was much greater than I realized, as those criminals were used to committing both rape and murder."
“Soon after my appearance at Paris, I was favoured with the addresses of several French lovers; but I never had any taste for foreigners, or indeed for any amusement of that kind, except such as were likely to be lasting, and settled upon a more agreeable footing than that of common gallantry. When I deviated from this principle, my conduct was the effect of compulsion, and therefore I was never easy under it, having been reduced to the alternative of two evils, the least of which I was obliged to choose, as a man leaps into the sea, in order to escape from a ship that is on fire.
“Shortly after I arrived in Paris, I received attention from several French suitors; however, I never had much interest in foreigners or in any casual flings, other than those that promised to be meaningful and built on a more solid foundation than mere flirtation. Whenever I strayed from this belief, my actions were driven by pressure, and I never felt comfortable with it, having been forced to choose between two bad options, like a person jumping into the sea to escape a burning ship.”
“Though I rejected their love, I did not refuse their company and conversation; and, though my health was considerably impaired by the shock I received in my last adventure, which was considerably greater than I at first imagined, and affected my companion so much, that she did not recover her spirits till she returned to England, I say, though I was for some time a valetudinarian, I enjoyed myself in great tranquility for the space of ten months, during which I was visited by English, Scotch, and French, of all parties and persuasions; for pleasure is of no faction, and that was the chief object of my pursuit; neither was I so ambitious of being a politician, as to employ my time and thoughts upon subjects which I did not understand. I had admirers of all sides, and should have spent my time very much to my liking, had not I felt my funds sensibly diminish, without any prospect of their being repaired; for I had been obliged to lay out a great part of the sum allotted for my subsistence, in supplying my companion, my servant, and myself with necessaries, in lieu of those which we had lost.
“Even though I turned down their love, I didn't refuse their company or conversation. My health was pretty bad after the shock from my last adventure, which was much worse than I originally thought, and it affected my companion so deeply that she didn't regain her spirits until she got back to England. I was somewhat unwell for a while, but I still enjoyed myself in great peace for ten months, during which I had visits from people from England, Scotland, and France, from all walks of life; because pleasure knows no boundaries, and that was my main goal. I wasn’t so eager to be a politician that I would waste my time and energy on topics I didn’t grasp. I had fans from all sides, and I would have spent my time very happily if I hadn’t noticed my funds decreasing significantly, with no hope of replenishing them. I had to spend a big chunk of the money set aside for my living expenses on buying essentials for my companion, my servant, and myself to replace what we had lost.”
“Having before my eyes the uncomfortable prospect of wanting money in a strange place, I found myself under the necessity of returning to England, where I had more resources than I could possibly have among foreigners; and with that view wrote to Lord —'s agents, desiring that I might be enabled to discharge my obligations at Paris, by the payment of my pin-money. Thus a negotiation commenced, and his lordship promised to remit money for the clearance of my Paris debts, which amounted to four hundred pounds: but he would not advance one farthing more, though I gave him to understand, that, while he protracted the agreement, I must inevitably be adding to my encumbrances, and that I should be as effectually detained by a debt of twenty pounds, as if I owed a thousand. Notwithstanding all my representations, he would not part with one shilling over the net sum which I at first stipulated; so that all my measures were rendered abortive, and I found it altogether impracticable to execute those resolutions I had formed in his favour.
“Facing the uncomfortable reality of needing money in an unfamiliar place, I realized I had to go back to England, where I had more resources than I could possibly find among strangers. With that in mind, I wrote to Lord —'s agents, asking them to help me settle my debts in Paris by sending my pin-money. This started a negotiation, and his lordship agreed to send money to clear my Paris debts, which totaled four hundred pounds. However, he wouldn't advance a single penny more, even though I made it clear that the longer he delayed the agreement, the more my debts would grow, and that being in debt for twenty pounds would feel just as burdensome as owing a thousand. Despite all my explanations, he refused to give me even a shilling beyond the original amount I requested, which made all my plans futile, and I found it completely impossible to carry out the decisions I had made in his favor.”
“Thus did he for a mere trifle embarrass the woman for whom he professed the most unlimited love, and whose principles he pretended to hold in the utmost veneration. Indeed, his confidence in my integrity was not without foundation; for many wives, with one half of my provocation, would have ruined him to all intents and purposes; whereas, notwithstanding all the extraordinary expenses to which I had been exposed by his continual persecution, he never paid a shilling on my account except one thousand pounds, exclusive of the small allowance which was my due. In a word, so much time elapsed before my lord could prevail upon himself to advance the bare four hundred, that I was involved in fresh difficulties, from which I found it impossible to extricate myself; and though I had occasion to write a letter to my benefactor Lord —, in which I expressed my acknowledgment of past favours, I could not venture to solicit more, even when I was encouraged by a very obliging answer, wherein he declared, that the good qualities of my mind and heart would bind him to me in friendship for ever.
“Thus did he, for a trivial matter, embarrass the woman he claimed to love completely and whose values he pretended to respect deeply. In fact, his faith in my integrity was not unfounded; many wives, with half of my reasons, would have destroyed him completely. Yet, despite all the significant expenses his constant harassment had caused me, he never contributed a penny on my behalf except for one thousand pounds, not counting the small allowance that was rightfully mine. In short, so much time passed before my lord could bring himself to lend the mere four hundred that I found myself in new difficulties I couldn’t escape from. Even though I needed to write to my benefactor Lord —, expressing my gratitude for past kindnesses, I didn’t dare to ask for more, despite being encouraged by a very nice response in which he stated that my good character would keep him bound to me in friendship forever.”
“While I ruminated on my uncomfortable situation, which would neither permit me to return to England, nor to stay much longer where I was, a young Englishman of immense fortune took Paris in his way from Italy, accompanied by a most agreeable Scotchman of very good sense and great vivacity. It was my good or ill fortune to become acquainted with these gentlemen, who, having seen me at the opera, expressed a desire of being known to me, and accordingly favoured me with a visit one afternoon, when the brisk North Briton engrossed the whole conversation, while the other seemed fearful and diffident even to a degree of bashfulness, through which, however, I could discern a delicate sensibility and uncommon understanding. There was in his person, which was very agreeable, as well as in his behaviour, a certain naivete that was very pleasing; and, at this first interview, we relished each other's company so well, that a sort of intimacy immediately commenced, and was carried on in a succession of parties of pleasure, in the course of which I found him fraught with all the tenderness and sentiment that render the heart susceptible of the most refined love; a disposition that immediately made me partial to him, while it subjected his own heart to all the violent impressions of a passion, which I little imagined our correspondence would have produced.
“While I thought about my uncomfortable situation, which wouldn’t let me return to England or stay much longer where I was, a young Englishman with a lot of money passed through Paris on his way from Italy, accompanied by a very charming Scottish man who was sensible and full of life. I had the luck to meet these gentlemen, who, after seeing me at the opera, expressed a desire to be introduced to me and paid me a visit one afternoon. The lively Scot dominated the whole conversation, while the other seemed anxious and shy to the point of being bashful. However, beneath that demeanor, I could see a delicate sensitivity and uncommon understanding. He had an agreeable appearance and a charming presence, along with a certain naivety that was very attractive. During our first meeting, we enjoyed each other's company so much that an intimacy quickly developed, leading to a series of enjoyable gatherings. Throughout these, I found him full of tenderness and sentiment, making him susceptible to the most refined kind of love; this nature immediately endeared him to me while also opening his heart to passionate feelings that I never imagined our connection would spark.”
“Nevertheless, I was far from being displeased with my conquest, because his person and qualifications, as well as his manner of address, were very much to my liking, and recommended him in a particular manner to my affection. Indeed, he made greater progress in my heart than I myself suspected; for there was something congenial in our souls, which, from our first meeting, I believe, had attracted us, unknown to ourselves, under the notions of friendship and regard, and now disclosed itself in the most passionate love.
"Still, I was definitely pleased with my victory, because his appearance and skills, along with the way he spoke, really appealed to me and made him especially endearing. In fact, he won my heart more than I realized; there was something compatible in our souls that, from the very first time we met, I think drew us to each other, without us even knowing it, in the form of friendship and affection, which has now revealed itself as intense love."
“I listened to his addresses, and we were truly happy. His attachment was the quintessence of tenderness and sincerity, while his generosity knew no bounds. Not contented with having paid twelve hundred pounds on my account, in the space of one fortnight, he would have loaded me with present after present, had I not absolutely refused to accept such expensive marks of his munificence. I was even mortified at those instances of his liberality, which my situation compelled me to receive, lest, being but little acquainted with my disposition, he should suspect me of being interested in my love, and judge my conduct by the malicious reports of common fame, which, he afterwards owned, had at first obtained such credit with him, that he believed our mutual attachment would not be of long duration. But, in this particular, he was soon undeceived. His heart, though naturally adapted for the melting passion, had hitherto escaped untouched by all the ladies of Italy and France; and, therefore, the first impressions were the more deeply fixed. As he was unpractised in the ways of common gallantry and deceit, the striking simplicity in his character was the more likely to engage the heart of one who knew the perfidy of the world, and despised all the farce and bombast of fashionable profession, which I had always considered as the phrase of vanity and ostentation, rather than the genuine language of love. Besides, gratitude had a considerable share in augmenting my affection, which manifested itself in such a warm, cordial, artless manner, as increased his esteem, and riveted his attachment; for he could easily perceive, from the whole tenor of my conduct, that my breast was an utter stranger to craft and dissimulation; yet I was at first fearful of contracting any engagement with him, because, being younger than me, he might be more apt to change, and the world might be malicious enough to suppose I had practised upon his inexperience; but, conscious of my own integrity, I set slander at defiance, trusting to my own behaviour, and his natural probity, for the continuance of his love. Though we did not live together in the same house, the greatest part of our time was spent in each other's company; we dined and supped at the same table, frequented public places, went upon parties to the country, and never parted, but for a few hours in the night, which we passed in the utmost impatience to meet again.
“I listened to his speeches, and we were genuinely happy. His affection was the essence of tenderness and sincerity, while his generosity was limitless. Not satisfied with having spent twelve hundred pounds on my behalf in just two weeks, he would have showered me with gifts after gifts if I hadn't firmly refused to accept such pricey tokens of his kindness. I even felt embarrassed about the instances of his generosity that my situation forced me to accept, worried that, knowing little about my true nature, he might think I was just interested in his wealth, judging my actions based on the malicious rumors circulating around us. He later admitted that he initially believed our bond wouldn't last long due to those stories. But in this regard, he was quickly proven wrong. His heart, although naturally suited for deep passion, had previously remained untouched by all the women of Italy and France; thus, the initial feelings he had were much stronger. Since he was inexperienced in the ways of typical romance and deception, the striking simplicity of his character was more likely to win over someone like me, who understood the deceitfulness of the world and looked down on the pretense and showmanship of worldly affection, which I had always seen as the language of vanity rather than true love. Additionally, gratitude played a significant role in deepening my affection, which showed itself in such a warm, sincere, straightforward way that it only increased his esteem and solidified his attachment; he could clearly see, from my entire conduct, that I was completely genuine and not deceitful. Still, I was initially hesitant to enter into any commitment with him because, being younger than me, he might be more likely to change, and the world could be malicious enough to think I had taken advantage of his naivety. But, confident in my own integrity, I ignored the gossip, relying on my own behavior and his natural honesty to sustain his love. Even though we didn’t live in the same house, we spent most of our time together; we shared meals at the same table, visited public places, took trips to the countryside, and only parted for a few hours at night, during which we were eagerly impatient to see each other again.”
“In this agreeable manner did the days roll on, when my felicity was interrupted by a fit of jealousy with which I happened to be seized. I had contracted an acquaintance with a young married lady, who, though her personal attractions were but slender, was upon the whole an agreeable, cheerful, good-natured companion, with a little dash of the coquette in her composition. This woman being in very indigent circumstances, occasioned by some losses her husband had sustained, no sooner had an opportunity of seeing and conversing with my lover, than she formed the design of making a conquest of him. I should have forgiven her for this scheme, whatever pangs it might have cost me, had I believed it the effect of real passion; but I knew her too well to suppose her heart was susceptible of love, and accordingly resented it. In the execution of her plan, she neglected nothing which she thought capable of engaging his attention. She took all opportunities of sitting near him at table, ogled him in the most palpable manner, directed her whole discourse to him, trod upon his toes; nay, I believe, squeezed his hand. My blood boiled at her, though my pride, for some time, enabled me to conceal my uneasiness; till at length her behaviour became so arrogant and gross, that I could no longer suppress my indignation, and one day told my lover that I would immediately renounce his correspondence.
“In this pleasant way, the days went by, until my happiness was interrupted by a wave of jealousy that hit me. I had made friends with a young married woman who, although not particularly attractive, was generally a pleasant, cheerful, and good-natured companion, with a hint of flirtation in her personality. This woman, facing tough times due to some losses her husband had suffered, quickly set her sights on my lover as soon as she had the chance to see and talk to him. I would have forgiven her for this intention, no matter how much it stung me, if I had thought it came from genuine feelings; but I knew her too well to believe she was capable of real love, and so I took offense. In her pursuit, she didn’t miss an opportunity to capture his attention. She made sure to sit near him at the table, flirted with him openly, directed all her conversation at him, stepped on his toes; in fact, I think she even squeezed his hand. I was furious at her, though for a while my pride helped me hide my discomfort; until eventually, her behavior became so arrogant and blatant that I could no longer hold back my anger, and one day I told my lover that I would immediately end our relationship.”
“He was greatly alarmed at this unexpected declaration; and, when he understood the cause of it, assured me, that, for the future, he would never exchange one word with her. Satisfied with this mark of his sincerity and regard, I released him from his promise, which he could not possibly keep, while she and I lived upon any terms; and we continued to visit each other as usual, though she still persisted in her endeavours to rival me in his affection, and contracted an intimacy with his companion, who seemed to entertain a passion for her, that she might have the more frequent opportunities of being among us; for she had no objection against favouring the addresses of both. One evening, I remember, we set out in my coach for the opera; and, in the way, this inamorata was so busy with her feet, that I was incensed at her behaviour; and, when we arrived at the place, refused to alight; but, setting them down, declared my intention of returning home immediately. She was so much pleased with this intimation, that she could not conceal the joy she felt at the thoughts of conversing with him, uninterrupted by my presence; an opportunity with which I had never favoured her before. This open exultation increased my anger and anxiety. I went home; but, being still tortured with the reflection of having left them together, adjusted myself in the glass, though I was too angry to take notice of my own figure, and without further delay returned to the opera.
“He was really shocked by this unexpected announcement; and when he figured out why, he assured me that from then on, he wouldn’t speak a word to her. Happy with this sign of his honesty and care, I freed him from his promise, which he couldn't possibly keep while she and I were on any terms; and we continued to visit each other as usual, even though she still tried to compete for his affection and got close with his friend, who seemed to have a crush on her, so she could spend more time with us; she was totally fine with encouraging both of their advances. I remember one evening, we headed out in my coach for the opera; and along the way, this lovebird was so busy with her feet that I got really irritated by her behavior; and when we arrived, I refused to get out and declared my intention of going home right away. She was so pleased by this that she couldn’t hide her joy at the thought of talking to him without me around, which I had never allowed her to do before. This blatant excitement made my anger and worry grow. I went home, but still tormented by the thought of leaving them together, I primped in the mirror, even though I was too angry to notice how I looked, and without wasting any more time, I went back to the opera.”
“Having inquired for the box in which they sat, I took possession of one that fronted them, and, reconnoitring them, without being perceived, had the satisfaction of seeing him removed to as great a distance from her as the place would permit, and his head turned another way. Composed by this examination, I joined them without further scruple, when my young gentleman expressed great joy at my appearance, and told me he was determined to have left the entertainment, and come in quest of me, had I not returned at that instant.
“After asking about the box they were sitting in, I took one that faced them, and, without being noticed, I had the satisfaction of seeing him moved as far away from her as the space would allow, and his head turned in another direction. Feeling reassured by this observation, I joined them without any hesitation. My young friend was very happy to see me and said he was ready to leave the event and come look for me if I hadn't shown up just then.”
“In our way homewards, my rival repeated her usual hints, and with her large hoop almost overshadowed my lover from my view; upon which my jealousy and wrath recurred with such violence, that I pulled the string as a signal for the coachman to stop, with a view of getting out, and going home afoot; a step which would have afforded a new spectacle to the people of Paris. But I reflected in a moment upon the folly of such a resolution, and soon recollected myself, by calling my pride to my assistance. I determined, however, that she should act no more scenes of this kind in my presence, and that same night insisted upon my lover's dropping all intercourse and connection with this tormentor. He very cheerfully complied with my desire, and was even glad of an occasion to break off his acquaintance with a person about whom I had plagued him so much.
“On our way home, my rival kept dropping her usual hints, and with her big hoop skirt nearly blocking my view of my boyfriend; this made my jealousy and anger flare up so strongly that I pulled the cord to signal the driver to stop, intending to get out and walk home. That would have been quite a spectacle for the people of Paris. But then I realized how foolish that decision was and quickly gathered myself, calling on my pride to help. Still, I decided that she wouldn’t put on any more scenes like that in front of me, and that same night, I insisted my boyfriend cut off all contact with this tormentor. He happily agreed to my request, even relieved to have a reason to end things with someone I had been bothering him about so much.”
“Thus was I freed from the persecution of one of those creatures, who, though of little consequence in themselves, are yet the pests of society, and find means to destroy that harmony which reigns between two lovers, by the intrusion of a loose appetite, void of all sensibility and discretion; having no feelings themselves, they cannot sympathize with those of other people; and do mischief out of mere wantonness.
“Thus, I was freed from the harassment of one of those people who, although insignificant on their own, are still the nuisances of society. They manage to disrupt the harmony that exists between two lovers by forcing in a reckless desire, lacking any sense of sensitivity or judgment; having no feelings themselves, they can't understand those of others and create chaos simply out of pure malice.”
“My lover being obliged to go to England, had settled me in a genteel house in Paris, with a view of returning when his affairs should be adjusted; but, when the time of his departure approached, he began to be uneasy at the prospect of separation, and, in order to alleviate his anxiety, desired me to accompany him to Calais, where we stayed together three or four days, during which the dread of parting became more and more intense; so that we determined upon my following him into England at the first opportunity, where I should live altogether incog. that I might be concealed from the inquiries and attempts of my lord. Even after this resolution was fixed, we parted with all the agonies of lovers who despair of ever meeting again; and the wind blowing very high after he had embarked, increased my fears. But, by the return of the packet-boat I was blessed with the report of his being safe arrived in England, and had the satisfaction of perusing his letters by every post.
“My partner had to go to England, so he set me up in a nice place in Paris, planning to return once he got his affairs in order. However, as the departure date got closer, he started feeling anxious about being apart. To help ease his worry, he asked me to come with him to Calais, where we spent three or four days together. The fear of separation grew stronger during that time, and we decided that I would follow him to England at the first chance I got, living completely under the radar to avoid any inquiries or trouble from my lord. Even after we made this plan, we parted with the pain of lovers who feel they might never see each other again. The strong winds after he set sail only heightened my fears. Fortunately, when the packet boat returned, I was relieved to hear that he had safely arrived in England, and I enjoyed reading his letters in the mail every day.”
“My admirer being thus detached from me, my thoughts were entirely employed in concerting some private method of conveying myself to him. As I would not trust myself in the common packet, for fear of being discovered, after having revolved divers schemes, I determined to transport myself in one of the Dutch fishing-boats, though I knew the passage would be hazardous; but, in a case of such interesting concern, I overlooked all danger and inconvenience. Before I put this resolution in practice, I was so fortunate as to hear of a small English vessel, that arrived in Calais with a prisoner of war, in which I embarked, with my companion and another lady, who lived with me for some time afterwards; and, when we came on board, discovered that the ship was no other than a light collier, and that her whole company amounted to no more than three men. Nevertheless, though the sea was so rough, and the weather so unpromising, that no other boat would venture to put to sea, we set sail, and, between two storms, in about three hours arrived in safety in Dover.
"My admirer being thus separated from me, my thoughts were completely focused on figuring out a private way to get to him. Since I didn't want to risk traveling on a regular packet boat for fear of being discovered, I considered various plans and decided to sneak onto one of the Dutch fishing boats, even though I knew the journey would be risky. In a situation this important, I ignored all danger and discomfort. Before I put this plan into action, I was lucky enough to hear about a small English vessel that had just arrived in Calais with a prisoner of war. I boarded that ship along with my companion and another lady who lived with us for a while afterward. When we got on board, we found out that the ship was just a light collier and that there were only three men on the entire crew. Still, despite the rough sea and poor weather that kept other boats from sailing, we set off and, in about three hours and between two storms, arrived safely in Dover."
“From hence my first companion went to her friends in the stage-coach, while the other lady and I hired an open post-chaise, though it snowed very hard, and, without any accident, performed our journey to London, where I met with my lover, who flew to my arms in all the transports of impatient joy; and, doubtless, I deserved his affection for the hardships, perils, and difficulties I had undergone to be with him; for I never scrupled to undertake anything practicable, in order to demonstrate the sincerity of what I professed. In consequence of our plan, I assumed a fictitious name, and never appeared in public, being fully satisfied and happy in the company and conversation of the man I loved; and, when he went into the country, contented myself with his correspondence, which he punctually maintained, in a series of letters, equally sensible, sincere, and affectionate.
“From there, my first companion took a stagecoach to meet her friends, while the other lady and I hired an open carriage, even though it was snowing heavily, and, without any incidents, made our way to London, where I reunited with my lover, who rushed into my arms with all the excitement of impatient joy; and I definitely deserved his affection for all the hardships, dangers, and difficulties I had faced to be with him; because I never hesitated to take on anything possible to show the sincerity of what I promised. As part of our plan, I used a fake name and never went out in public, feeling completely satisfied and happy in the company and conversation of the man I loved; and when he went out of town, I was content with his letters, which he consistently sent, filled with equal parts sense, sincerity, and affection.”
“Upon his return to town for the remainder of the season, he devoted the greatest part of his time to our mutual enjoyment; left me with reluctance, when he was called away by indispensable business, and the civility which was due to his acquaintance, and very seldom went to any place of public entertainment, because I could not accompany and share with him in the diversion; nay, so much did I engross his attention, that one evening, after he had been teased into an agreement of meeting some friends at a play, he went thither precisely at the appointed hour, and, as they did not arrive punctually at the very minute, he returned to me immediately, as much rejoiced at his escape as if he had met with some signal deliverance. Nor was his constancy inferior to the ardour of his love. We went once together to a ball in the Haymarket, where, in the midst of a thousand fine women, whose charms were enhanced by the peculiarity of the dresses they wore, he remained unshaken, unseduced, preserving his attachment for me in spite of all temptation.
“Upon his return to town for the rest of the season, he dedicated most of his time to our shared enjoyment; he left me reluctantly when he had to attend to pressing business, and he was polite to his acquaintances. He rarely went to any public entertainment because I couldn’t join him in the fun. In fact, I captured his focus so completely that one evening, after he was persuaded to meet some friends at a play, he arrived right on time, and when they didn’t show up exactly on the dot, he came back to me immediately, as happy about his escape as if he had been rescued from some great danger. His loyalty was just as strong as his love. We once went together to a ball in the Haymarket, where, in the company of a thousand beautiful women, whose looks were enhanced by their unique outfits, he remained steadfast and unaffected, keeping his affection for me despite all the temptations around him.”
“In the summer, he provided me with a house in the neighbourhood of his own; but the accommodations being bad, and that country affording no other place fit for my residence, he brought me home to his own seat, and, by that step, raised such a universal clamour; though I saw no company, and led such a solitary life, that nothing but excessive love could have supported my spirits. Not but that he gave me as much of his time as he could possibly spare from the necessary duties of paying and receiving visits, together with the avocations of hunting, and other country amusements, which I could not partake. Formerly, indeed, I used to hunt and shoot, but I had left off both, so that I was now reduced to the alternative of reading and walking by myself; but love made up for all deficiencies to me, who think nothing else worth the living for. Had I been blessed with a partner for life, who could have loved sincerely, and inspired me with a mutual flame, I would have asked no more of fate. Interest and ambition have no share in my composition; love, which is pleasure, or pleasure, which is love, makes up the whole. A heart so disposed cannot be devoid of other good qualities; it must be subject to the impressions of humanity and benevolence, and enemy to nothing but itself. This you will give me leave to affirm, in justice to myself, as I have frankly owned my failings and misconduct.
“In the summer, he provided me with a house in his neighborhood; however, since the living conditions were poor and there was no other suitable place for me to stay in that area, he brought me back to his own home. This decision sparked a lot of gossip; although I didn’t see anyone and lived a very solitary life, only immense love could have kept my spirits up. He did give me as much of his time as he could, balancing his necessary duties of social visits, hunting, and other rural activities, which I couldn’t participate in. In the past, I used to hunt and shoot, but I had given both up, leaving me with reading and walking alone as my only options. But love made up for everything I lacked, since I believe nothing else is worth living for. If I had been fortunate enough to have a lifelong partner who could love me sincerely and ignite a mutual passion, I wouldn’t have asked for anything more from fate. Neither interest nor ambition drives me; love, which is happiness, or happiness, which is love, encompasses everything I am. A heart oriented this way cannot lack other good qualities; it must be open to the feelings of compassion and kindness, and only oppose itself. You will allow me to say this, in fairness to myself, as I have openly acknowledged my faults and wrongdoings.”
“Towards the end of summer, my heart was a little alarmed by a report that prevailed, of my lover's being actually engaged in a treaty of marriage; however, I gave little credit to this rumour till I was obliged to go to town about business, and there I heard the same information confidently affirmed. Though I still considered it as a vague surmise, I wrote to him an account of what I had heard; and, in his answer, which is still in my possession, he assured me, with repeated vows and protestations, that the report was altogether false. Satisfied with this declaration, I returned to his house; and, though the tale was incessantly thundered in my ears, still believed it void of all foundation, till my suspicion was awakened by a very inconsiderable circumstance.
“Towards the end of summer, I was a bit alarmed by a rumor that my lover was actually engaged in a marriage deal; however, I didn’t really believe it until I had to go to town for some business, and there I heard the same news confidently confirmed. Although I still thought it was just a vague guess, I wrote to him about what I had heard; and in his response, which I still have, he assured me, with repeated vows and promises, that the rumor was completely false. Satisfied with his declaration, I went back to his house; and even though the story was constantly ringing in my ears, I still thought it had no basis, until a very minor incident raised my suspicions.”
“One day, on his return from hunting, I perceived he had a very fine pair of Dresden ruffles on his shirt, which I could not suppose he would wear at such a rustic exercise; and, therefore, my fears took the alarm. When I questioned him about this particular of his dress, his colour changed; and though he attempted to elude my suspicion, by imputing it to a mistake of his servant, I could not rest satisfied with this account of the matter, but inquired into the truth with such eagerness and penetration, that he could not deny he had been to make a visit. By degrees, I even extorted from him a confession, that he had engaged himself further than he ought to have proceeded, without making me acquainted with his design, though he endeavoured to excuse his conduct, and pacify my displeasure, by saying, that the affair would not be brought to bear for a great while, and, perhaps, might never come to a determination but he was in great confusion, and, indeed, hardly knew what he said.
“One day, on his way back from hunting, I noticed he was wearing a really nice pair of Dresden ruffles on his shirt, which I didn’t think he’d wear for such a simple activity; so I started to get worried. When I asked him about his outfit, he went pale, and even though he tried to brush off my suspicion by blaming it on a mistake made by his servant, I wasn’t satisfied with that explanation. I pressed for the truth with such eagerness that he couldn’t deny he had been visiting someone. Gradually, I even managed to get him to admit that he had gotten himself involved in something more than he should have without telling me his plans. He tried to defend his actions and calm my anger by saying the situation wouldn’t be sorted out for a long time, and it might never lead anywhere, but he was quite flustered and honestly hardly knew what he was saying.
“I would have quitted his house that moment, had not he beforehand obtained a promise that I would take no rash resolution of that kind, and put it out of my power to procure any method of conveyance by which I could make my retreat. I gave no vent to reproaches, but only upbraided him with his having permitted me to return, in ignorance, to the country, after I was once fairly gone; upon which he swore that he could not bear the thoughts of parting with me. This declaration was a mystery at that time, but I have been since so fully satisfied of his reasons for his conduct, that I heartily acquit him of all injustice to me. And, indeed, it is my sincere opinion, that, if ever young man deserved to be happy, he is certainly entitled to that privilege; and, if I may be allowed to judge, has a heart susceptible of the most refined enjoyment.
“I would have left his house right then, if he hadn't already gotten me to promise that I wouldn't make any rash decisions like that, and made it impossible for me to find any way to leave. I didn't voice my complaints, but I did remind him that he allowed me to come back to the country without informing me, after I had already left for good. He swore that he couldn't stand the thought of losing me. This statement was a mystery to me at the time, but I've since come to fully understand his reasons for acting the way he did, and I completely forgive him for any wrong he might have done to me. In fact, I honestly believe that if anyone deserves to be happy, it's him, and if I'm allowed to judge, he has a heart capable of the highest pleasures.”
“The violence of the grief and consternation which I suffered from this stroke having a little subsided, I deliberated with myself about the measures I should take, and determined to leave his house some day when he should be abroad. I was encouraged in this resolution by the advice of our Scotch friend, who came about this time from London, on a visit to his fellow-traveller. We thought such an abrupt departure would be less shocking than to stay and take a formal leave of my lover, whose heart was of such a delicate frame, that, after I told him I should one day withdraw myself in his absence, he never came home from the chase, or any other avocation, without trembling with apprehension that I had escaped.
“The intensity of the grief and shock I felt from this blow had eased a bit, so I started to think about what to do next. I decided to leave his house one day while he was out. I was encouraged to go through with this plan by our Scottish friend, who had come from London to visit his travel buddy. We figured that leaving suddenly would be less upsetting than staying and saying a formal goodbye to my lover, whose heart was so sensitive that after I mentioned I would eventually leave in his absence, he returned from hunting or any other activity trembling with fear that I had already left.”
“After he had been some time accustomed to these fears by my previous intimation, I at length decamped in good earnest, though my heart ached upon the occasion, because I left him loving and beloved; for his affection was evident, notwithstanding the step he had taken by the advice and importunity of all his relations, who laid a disagreeable restraint upon his inclinations, while they consulted his interest in every other particular.
“After he had gotten used to these fears from what I had hinted before, I finally took off for real, even though it broke my heart to do so because I was leaving him still loving and loved. His affection was clear, despite the choice he made at the urging of all his relatives, who imposed an uncomfortable control over his feelings while they tried to look out for his best interests in everything else.”
“While I halted in the next great town, until I could be supplied with fresh horses, I was visited by a gentleman who had been formerly intimate with my lover; but a breach had happened in their friendship, and he now came to complain of the treatment he had received. Perceiving that I was not in a humour to listen to his story, he shifted the conversation to my own, and observed, that I had been extremely ill-used. I told him that I was of a different opinion; that it was not only just, but expedient, that a young man of Mr. —'s fortune should think of making some alliance to strengthen and support the interest of his family; and that I had nothing to accuse him of but his letting me remain so long in ignorance of his intention. He then gave me to understand, that I was still ignorant of a great part of the ill-usage I had received; affirming, that, while I lived in his house, he had amused himself with all the common women in that town, to some of whom this gentleman had personally introduced him.
“While I was stopped in the next big town, waiting for fresh horses, a guy who used to be close with my lover came to visit me. However, they had fallen out, and he was there to complain about how he’d been treated. Noticing that I wasn’t in the mood to hear his story, he changed the subject to me and pointed out that I had been really mistreated. I told him I disagreed; I thought it was not only fair but also smart for a young man with Mr. —'s wealth to consider making some connections to help his family's interests. The only thing I had a problem with was his letting me stay in the dark about his plans for so long. He then implied that I was still unaware of a lot of the mistreatment I had endured, claiming that while I lived in his house, he had entertained himself with all the local women, several of whom he was personally introduced to by this guy.”
“At first, I could not believe this imputation; but he supported his assertion with so many convincing circumstances, that I could no longer doubt the truth of them; and I felt so much resentment, that my love vanished immediately into air. Instead of proceeding on my journey to London, I went back a considerable way, and sent a message desiring to see him in a little house, about midway between his own habitation and the town from whence I came. He obeyed my summons, and appeared at the place appointed, where I reproached him with great bitterness. He pleaded guilty to the charge, so far as acknowledging that he had corresponded with other women lately, in order to get the better of his affection for me, but the experiment had failed, and he found that he should be for ever miserable.
“At first, I couldn't believe this accusation; but he backed up his claim with so many convincing details that I could no longer doubt their truth. I felt so much anger that my love disappeared in an instant. Instead of continuing on my journey to London, I turned back for a significant distance and sent a message asking to meet him in a small house located roughly halfway between his home and the town I came from. He came to the meeting place where I confronted him with great bitterness. He admitted to the accusation, acknowledging that he had been in contact with other women recently to try to get over his feelings for me, but that plan had failed, and he realized he would always be miserable.
“I did not look upon this candid confession as a sufficient atonement for his past dissimulation, and, in the sharpness of my revenge, demanded a settlement, which he peremptorily refused; so that for the present we held each other in the utmost contempt. Indeed, I afterwards despised myself for my condescension, which was owing to the advice of my companion, supported and inflamed by the spirit of resentment. Nevertheless, he begged that I would return to his house, or stay all night where I was; but I was deaf to his entreaties, and, after a great deal of ironical civility on my side, I took my leave, and went away; yet, before I set out, I looked back, and saw him on horseback, with such an air of simplicity and truth, as called up a profound sigh, notwithstanding all that had passed in our conversation.
“I didn’t see this honest confession as enough to make up for his past deceit, and in my desire for revenge, I demanded a resolution, which he outright refused; so for now, we held each other in complete contempt. In fact, I later felt ashamed of my willingness to forgive, which was influenced by my friend and fueled by my anger. Still, he asked me to either come back to his house or stay where I was for the night; but I ignored his pleas, and after a lot of sarcastic politeness on my part, I said goodbye and left. Yet, before I departed, I glanced back and saw him on horseback, looking so genuine and sincere that it made me let out a deep sigh, despite everything that had happened in our conversation.”
“Upon my arrival in London, I took lodgings in Leicester-fields, and answered a letter which I had some months before received from my lord, telling him that I would go home to him, without stipulating for any terms, to try what effect my confidence would have upon his generosity. He readily embraced the offer, and took a house in St. James's-street, where I proposed to comply with his humour in everything that was consistent with my own peace and tranquility.
“Upon arriving in London, I found a place to stay in Leicester Fields and responded to a letter I had received a few months earlier from my lord, letting him know that I would come back to him without asking for any specific terms, to see how my trust would influence his generosity. He quickly accepted my offer and took a house on St. James's Street, where I planned to go along with his wishes in everything that wouldn’t disrupt my own peace and tranquility.”
“Meanwhile, my lover passed his time very disagreeably in the country, with his friend, of whom, it seems, he had conceived some jealousy, which was increased by a letter I wrote to that gentleman, till he was made acquainted with the contents, which he read over forty times; and then his passion breaking out with more violence than ever, he not only expressed his feeling, in an epistle which I immediately received, but when he came to town suffered such agonies of despair as I had never seen before, except in Lord B—. It was then in my power to have taken ample revenge upon him, as well as upon my insolent rival, who had insisted upon my leaving his house in a very abrupt manner, though he absolutely refused to gratify her malice, for he was now disposed to do anything for my satisfaction. But I knew his worth, and had too much regard for his reputation to advise him to act inconsistent with his honour.
“Meanwhile, my lover was having a really tough time in the country with his friend, whom he seemed to be feeling jealous of. This jealousy was fueled by a letter I wrote to that guy, which he read over forty times. When he finally reacted, his feelings erupted more intensely than ever before. He expressed his emotions in a letter that I received right away, and when he got to town, he was in such deep despair that I had never witnessed before, except with Lord B—. At that moment, I could have taken great revenge on him and my arrogant rival, who had forced me to leave his house in a very harsh way, although he had completely refused to cater to her spite since he was now willing to do anything to make me happy. But I recognized his value and cared too much for his reputation to suggest he acted against his honor.”
“About this time, many tender feelings and sorrowful partings happened between us, till the marriage knot was tied, when he sent me a bank-note for a thousand pounds, by way of specimen, as he called it, of his friendship, and of what he would do for me, should I ever want his assistance. This mark of his generosity I received in a most tender billet, which I shall never part with, together with his picture set in diamonds.
“During this time, we experienced a lot of heartfelt emotions and sad farewells until the wedding was finalized. He sent me a banknote for a thousand pounds, calling it a sample of his friendship and what he would be willing to do for me if I ever needed his help. I received this generous gesture in a very sweet note that I will always keep, along with his picture framed in diamonds.”
“I now employed my thoughts in keeping measures with my lord; we lay in the same apartment, and for the first four or five months I neither dined nor supped abroad above twice; and then he knew where I was, and approved of my company. But all this complacency and circumspection had no effect upon his temper, which remained as capricious and dissatisfied as ever. Nay, to such a provoking degree did this unhappy humour prevail, that one day, in the presence of his lawyer, he harangued upon my misconduct since our last reunion; and very freely affirmed, that every step I had taken was diametrically opposite to his will.
“I focused my thoughts on keeping in sync with my lord; we stayed in the same room, and for the first four or five months, I only ate out for dinner or supper twice. Afterward, he knew where I was and approved of my company. But all this compliance and caution had no impact on his mood, which remained as unpredictable and dissatisfied as ever. In fact, this unfortunate attitude became so frustrating that one day, in front of his lawyer, he went on about my misbehavior since our last meeting and openly stated that every move I made was completely against his wishes.”
“Conscious of the pains I had been at to please him, I was so incensed at these unjust invectives, that, starting up, I told him he was a little dirty fellow; and would have left the house immediately, had not his lawyer, and others, who were in the room, interposed, and by dint of argument and importunity diverted me from my purpose. By the bye, I have been informed by a person of rank, that my lord discovered exactly the same disposition in his father's lifetime, and only changed the subject of his complaint from the word father to that of wife. Indeed, he takes all opportunities of plaguing my dear parent, as he has just sagacity enough to know, that this is the most effectual way he can take to distress me.
“Knowing how much effort I had put into pleasing him, I was so angry at these unfair insults that I jumped up and called him a little dirty brat; I would have left the house right away if his lawyer and others in the room hadn't stepped in and talked me out of it. By the way, a person of rank informed me that my lord showed the same attitude during his father's life and just switched the subject of his complaints from being about his father to his wife. In fact, he takes every chance to bother my dear parent because he understands that this is the most effective way to upset me.”
“After repeated trials, I have given up all hopes of making him happy, or of finding myself easy in my situation, and live with him at present to avoid a greater inconvenience. Not that his ill-nature is all the grievance of which I complain; exclusive of the personal disgust I entertain for him, his folly is of that species which disobliges rather than diverts, and his vanity and affectation altogether intolerable; for he actually believes himself, or at least would impose himself upon mankind, as a pattern of gallantry and taste; and, in point of business. a person of infinite sagacity and penetration. But the most ridiculous part of his character is his pretended talent for politics, in which he so deeply concerns himself, that he has dismissed many a good servant, because he suspected him of having wrong connections; a theme upon which he has often quarrelled with me, even almost to parting, accusing me with holding correspondence with the earls of B— and C—, and Mr. H— V—, though I never had the least acquaintance with any of these gentlemen, except the earl of C—, to whom I have not spoken these ten years past.
“After trying repeatedly, I've given up on making him happy or finding any ease in my situation. I’m with him now just to avoid bigger problems. It’s not just his bad nature that bothers me; aside from my personal disgust for him, his foolishness is more annoying than amusing, and his vanity and pretentiousness are totally unbearable. He genuinely thinks of himself—or at least wants others to see him—as a model of charm and style, and in terms of business, he sees himself as exceptionally sharp and insightful. But the most ridiculous aspect of his character is his fake talent for politics. He gets so wrapped up in it that he’s fired many good employees just because he suspected them of having the wrong connections; he often fights with me about this, almost to the point of splitting up, accusing me of having ties with the earls of B— and C—, and Mr. H— V—, although I’ve never known any of these gentlemen, except for the earl of C—, whom I haven’t spoken to in the last ten years.”
“In short, I have often been at a loss to know, whether he was more mad and malicious in those fits of enthusiasm, wherein he seemed transported with zeal for the commonwealth, and tormented me with his admonitions out of all temper and patience. At length, however, I contrived an expedient which freed me from these troublesome expostulations, and silenced him effectually on the score of politics. This was no other than an open avowal of being connected with all those people whom I have named. Indeed, I knew him too well to believe there was anything solid in his intention or professions, even when he carried himself so far as to demand a private audience of the k—, in order to communicate a scheme for suppressing the rebellion; and that being denied, solicited the duke of D—'s interest, for permission to raise and head a regiment of Kentish smugglers. Nay, to such a pitch did his loyalty soar, that he purchased a firelock of particular mechanism, calculated for the safety of the bearer, in case he had been placed sentinel at his Majesty's door, and kept his horses ready caparisoned, with a view of attending his sovereign to the field. Notwithstanding all these pompous preparations, had he been put to the proof, he would have infallibly crept out of his engagements, through some sneaking evasion, his imagination being very fertile in such saving pretences. Yet he will talk sometimes so fervently, and even sensibly, on the subject, that a stranger would mistake him for a man of understanding, and determined zeal for the good of his country.
“In short, I’ve often found myself confused about whether he was more crazy and spiteful during those passionate outbursts when he seemed genuinely excited about the welfare of the country, or when he annoyed me with his lectures that were completely out of line. Eventually, I figured out a way to stop these annoying discussions and silence him effectively on political matters. All I had to do was openly admit to being associated with all those people I mentioned. Honestly, I knew him well enough not to believe there was anything genuine in his intentions or claims, even when he went as far as asking for a private meeting with the king to pitch a plan to quell the rebellion; and when that was denied, he even tried to get the duke of D— to support his idea of raising and leading a regiment of Kentish smugglers. In fact, his loyalty reached such extremes that he bought a specialized firelock designed for the safety of the holder, in case he was ever placed as a guard at the King’s door, and kept his horses fully equipped, ready to accompany his sovereign to battle. Despite all these grand preparations, if he had been put to the test, he would have undoubtedly weaseled out of his commitments with some sneaky excuse, as his mind was very good at coming up with such justifications. Yet he can sometimes talk about these topics so passionately, and even reasonably, that a stranger might mistake him for a man of intelligence and genuine commitment to his country’s well-being."
“Since my last return to his house, that act of parliament passed, by which he was enabled to pay his debts, and, among the rest, a thousand pounds of my contracting, the only burden of that kind I ever entailed upon him, exclusive of my pin-money, which was never regularly paid; nor would he have been subject to this, had he not, by his persecution and pursuit, exposed me to an extraordinary expense. I have also had it in my power to reward some of my faithful Abigails; in particular, to relieve from extreme distress that maid to whom, as I have already observed, Lord B— granted an annuity, which she had sold: so that she was reduced to the most abject poverty; and I found her in a dismal hole, with two infants perishing for want; a spectacle which drew tears from my eyes, and indeed could not but make deep impression upon a heart like mine, which the misery of my fellow-creatures never failed to melt.
“Since I last returned to his house, that law was passed, allowing him to pay off his debts, including a thousand pounds that I was responsible for, which was the only debt of that kind I ever placed on him, aside from my pin money, which was never regularly paid; he wouldn’t have had to deal with this if he hadn’t, through his harassment and relentless pursuit, put me in an extraordinary financial bind. I've also been able to help some of my loyal servants; in particular, I was able to rescue that maid from extreme hardship, to whom, as I mentioned earlier, Lord B— granted an annuity, which she had sold: leaving her in dire poverty. I found her in a terrible situation, with two infants suffering from lack of food; it was a sight that brought tears to my eyes and clearly left a deep impact on a heart like mine, which is always moved by the suffering of others.”
“Nor did I upon this occasion forget the attachment and fidelity of my other woman Mrs. S—, who, hearing I was robbed in my passage through Flanders, had generously relinquished the allowance I had settled upon her at parting. The exercise of such acts of humanity and benevolence, and the pleasure of seeing my dear and tender parent often, in some measure alleviate the chagrin to which I am subject from the disagreeable disposition of my lord, who, consistent with his former inconsistency, upon our last reconciliation, cheerfully agreed to a proposal I made of having concerts in the house, and even approved of the scheme with marks of particular satisfaction. But, before one half of the winter was expired, he found means to banish all the company, beginning with Lord R— B—, who, as he walked up-stairs one evening, was stopped by a footman, who plainly told him he had orders to say to him in particular, that his lordship was not at home; yet the very next day, perceiving that nobleman and me walking together in the park, he joins us with an air of alacrity, as if no such thing had happened, and even behaved to Lord R— with the most fawning complaisance. His deportment was equally absurd and impertinent to the rest of his friends, who forsook us gradually, being tired of maintaining any friendly communication with such a disagreeable composition of ignorance and arrogance. For my own part, I look upon him as utterly incorrigible; and, as fate has subjected me to his power, endeavour to make the bitter draught go down, by detaching myself as much as possible from the supposition that there is any such existence upon earth. Indeed, if I had not fatal experience to the contrary, I should be apt to believe that such a character is not to be found among the sons of men; because his conduct is altogether unaccountable by the known rules and maxims of life, and falls entirely under the poet's observation, when he says,
"Nor did I forget the loyalty and dedication of my other woman, Mrs. S—, who, upon hearing I was robbed while passing through Flanders, generously gave up the allowance I had arranged for her when we parted. Acts of kindness and generosity like hers, along with the joy of seeing my dear and loving parent often, somewhat ease the disappointment I feel due to my lord's unpleasant behavior. True to his character of being unpredictably inconsistent, during our last reconciliation, he happily agreed to my suggestion of hosting concerts at our home and even showed particular enthusiasm for the idea. Yet, before half the winter was over, he found ways to dismiss all our guests, starting with Lord R—B—, who, while walking upstairs one evening, was stopped by a footman who directly told him that his lordship was not at home. Yet the very next day, upon seeing that nobleman and me walking together in the park, he joined us with an upbeat attitude, acting as if nothing had happened, and treated Lord R— with extreme sycophancy. His behavior was just as ridiculous and annoying towards the rest of his friends, who gradually deserted us, tired of trying to maintain friendly relations with such an unpleasant mix of ignorance and arrogance. As for me, I consider him completely hopeless; and since fate has put me under his influence, I try to manage the bitter experience by distancing myself from the belief that anyone like him exists on this earth. Truly, if I hadn’t had the unfortunate experience to prove otherwise, I might believe that such a character couldn't be found among mankind; because his actions are completely inexplicable by any known rules or principles of life and entirely fit the poet's observation when he says,"
“'Tis true, no meaning puzzles more than wit.”
"Indeed, nothing is more confusing than wit."
Her ladyship having thus concluded her story, to the entertainment of the company, and the admiration of Peregrine, who expressed his astonishment at the variety of adventures she had undergone, which was such as he thought sufficient to destroy the most hardy and robust constitution, and therefore infinitely more than enough to overwhelm one of her delicate frame; one of the gentlemen present roundly taxed her with want of candour, in suppressing some circumstances of her life, which he thought essential in the consideration of her character.
Her ladyship finished her story, entertaining the company and impressing Peregrine, who voiced his amazement at the range of adventures she had experienced. He believed they were enough to break even the strongest and healthiest person, and certainly more than enough to overwhelm someone with her delicate build. One of the gentlemen present boldly accused her of lacking honesty by leaving out some details of her life that he thought were important to understanding her character.
She reddened at this peremptory charge, which had an evident effect upon the countenances of the whole audience, when the accuser proceeded to explain his imputation, by observing, that, in the course of her narration, she had omitted to mention a thousand acts of uncommon charity, of which he himself knew her to be guilty; and that she had concealed a great many advantageous proposals of marriage, which she might have accepted before she was engaged.
She blushed at this abrupt accusation, which clearly affected the faces of everyone in the audience, as the accuser went on to clarify his claim by saying that, during her story, she failed to mention countless acts of extraordinary kindness that he knew she was guilty of; and that she had hidden many attractive marriage proposals she could have accepted before becoming engaged.
The company were agreeably undeceived by this explanation; which her ladyship acknowledged in very polite terms, as a compliment equally genteel and unexpected. And our hero, after having testified the sense he had of her complaisance and condescension, in regaling him with a mark of her confidence and esteem, took his leave, and went home in a state of confusion and perplexity; for, from the circumstances of the tale he had heard, he plainly perceived, that her ladyship's heart was too delicate to receive such incense as he, in the capacity of an admirer, could at present pay; because, though he had in some measure abridged the empire of Emilia in his own breast, it was not in his own power to restrain it so effectually, but that it would interfere with any other sovereign whom his thoughts should adopt; and unless Lady — could engross his whole love, time, and attention, he foresaw that it would be impossible for him to support the passion which he might have the good fortune to inspire. He was, moreover, deterred from declaring his love, by the fate of her former admirers, who seemed to have been wound up to a degree of enthusiasm, that looked more like the effect of enchantment, than the inspiration of human attractions; an ecstasy of passion which he durst not venture to undergo. He, therefore, resolved to combat with the impressions he had already received, and, if possible, cultivate her friendship without soliciting her affection. But, before he could fix upon this determination, he desired to know the footing on which he stood in her opinion; and, by the intelligence of Crabtree, obtained in the usual manner, understood that her sentiments of him were very favourable, though without the least tincture of love. He would have been transported with joy, had her thoughts of him been of a more tender texture; though his reason was better pleased with the information he received; in consequence of which he mustered up the ideas of his first passion, and set them in opposition to those of this new and dangerous attachment; by which means he kept the balance in equilibrio, and his bosom tolerably quiet.
The company was pleasantly reassured by this explanation, which her ladyship acknowledged in very polite terms, seeing it as a compliment that was both classy and surprising. Our hero, after expressing his appreciation for her kindness and generosity in showing him a sign of her trust and respect, took his leave and went home feeling confused and troubled. From the story he had just heard, he clearly realized that her ladyship's heart was too fragile to accept the flattery that he, as an admirer, could currently offer; because, even though he had somewhat diminished Emilia's hold on his heart, he couldn’t completely suppress it without it affecting any other interest he might develop. Unless Lady — could capture all his love, time, and attention, he knew it would be impossible for him to maintain the feelings he might be lucky enough to inspire. Furthermore, he was discouraged from declaring his love due to the fate of her previous admirers, who seemed to have reached a level of excitement that resembled magic rather than the allure of human attraction—an overwhelming passion that he didn’t dare to experience. Therefore, he decided to fight against the feelings he had already developed and, if possible, nurture a friendship with her without seeking her love. But before he could commit to this decision, he wanted to understand how she viewed him; and through Crabtree, as he usually did, he learned that her feelings toward him were quite positive, though lacking any hint of romantic love. He would have been overjoyed if her feelings for him had been more affectionate, but his rational side was more satisfied with the information he received. As a result, he recalled the feelings from his first love and weighed them against this new and risky attraction, keeping his emotions in check and his heart fairly stable.
CHAPTER LXXXII.
He persuades Cadwallader to assume the Character of a Magician, in which he acquires a great Share of Reputation, by his Responses to three Females of Distinction, who severally consult the Researches of his Art.
He convinces Cadwallader to act as a magician, in which he gains a lot of fame by answering three distinguished women who each seek his expertise.
His heart being thus, as it were, suspended between two objects that lessened the force of each other's attraction, he took this opportunity of enjoying some respite, and for the present detached his sentiments from both, resolving to indulge himself in the exercise of that practical satire which was so agreeable and peculiar in his disposition. In this laudable determination he was confirmed by the repeated suggestions of his friend Cadwallader, who taxed him with letting his talents rust in indolence, and stimulated his natural vivacity with a succession of fresh discoveries in the world of scandal.
His heart was caught in a struggle between two things that weakened each other's pull, so he took this chance to take a break and temporarily set aside his feelings for both. He decided to focus on the practical satire he enjoyed so much. His friend Cadwallader encouraged him, pointing out that he was wasting his talents by being lazy and reviving his natural energy with a stream of new gossip.
Peregrine was now seized with a strange whim, and when he communicated the conceit to Cadwallader, it in a moment acquired his approbation. This notion he imparted in a proposal to subject the town to their ridicule, by giving responses to the character of a professed conjurer, to be personated by the old misanthrope, whose aspect was extremely well calculated for the purpose. The plan was immediately adjusted in all its parts; an apartment hired in a house accommodated with a public stair, so that people might have free ingress and egress, without being exposed to observation; and, this tenement being furnished with the apparatus of a magician, such as globes, telescopes, a magic-lanthorn, a skeleton, a dried monkey together with the skins of an alligator, otter, and snake, the conjurer himself took possession of his castle, after having distributed printed advertisements containing the particulars of his undertaking.
Peregrine suddenly got a strange idea, and when he shared it with Cadwallader, he quickly approved. The idea was to make fun of the town by pretending to be a real magician, a role that would be played by the old misanthrope, whose look was perfect for it. They immediately worked out all the details; they rented a room in a building with a public staircase, so people could come and go without being seen. The place was equipped with the props of a magician, like globes, telescopes, a magic lantern, a skeleton, a dried monkey, and the skins of an alligator, otter, and snake. The conjurer then settled into his new hideout after handing out printed flyers with details about his event.
These bills soon operated according to the wish of the projectors. As the price of the oracle was fixed at half a guinea, the public naturally concluded that the author was no common fortune-teller; and, the very next day, Peregrine found some ladies of his quality acquaintance infected with the desire of making an experiment upon the skill of this new conjurer, who pretended to be just arrived from the Mogul's empire, where he had learned the art from a Brachman philosopher. Our young gentleman affected to talk of the pretensions of this sage with ridicule and contempt, and with seeming reluctance undertook to attend them to his apartment, observing, that it would be a very easy matter to detect the fellow's ignorance, and no more than common justice to chastise him for his presumption. Though he could easily perceive a great fund of credulity in the company, they affected to espouse his opinion, and, under the notion of a frolic, agreed that one particular lady should endeavour to baffle his art, by appearing before him in the dress of her woman, who should at the same time personate her mistress, and be treated as such by our adventurer, who promised to squire them to the place. These measures being concerted, and the appointment fixed for the next audience-day, Peregrine furnished his friend with the necessary information, and, when the hour of assignation arrived, conducted his charge to this oraculous seer.
These bills quickly worked as the projectors intended. Since the price of the oracle was set at half a guinea, the public naturally assumed that the author was no ordinary fortune-teller. The very next day, Peregrine met some ladies he knew who were eager to test the skills of this new conjurer, who claimed to have just arrived from the Mughal Empire, where he supposedly learned the art from a Brahmin philosopher. Our young gentleman pretended to ridicule and dismiss this sage's claims while reluctantly agreeing to take them to his place, stating that it would be easy to expose the man's ignorance and only fair to punish him for his arrogance. Although he could clearly see that the group held a lot of belief in the oracle, they pretended to back his stance and, as a prank, decided that one specific lady would try to outsmart the oracle by dressing as her maid, who would then impersonate her and be treated as such by our adventurer, who promised to escort them to the location. With their plan in place and the time set for the next appointment, Peregrine gave his friend the necessary details, and when the meeting time arrived, he led his group to this oracle.
They were admitted by our hero's valet-de-chambre, whose visage, being naturally meagre and swarthy, was adorned with artificial whiskers; so that he became the Persian dress which he wore, and seemed a very proper master of the ceremonies to an Oriental necromancer. Having crossed his arms upon his breasts, with an inclination of the head, he stalked in solemn silence before them into the penetralia of the temple, where they found the conjurer sitting at a table, provided with pen, ink, and paper, divers books, mathematical instruments, and a long white wand lying across the whole. He was habited in a black gown and fur cap. His countenance, over and above a double proportion of philosophic gravity, which he had assumed for the occasion, was improved by a thick beard, white as snow, that reached to his middle, and upon each shoulder sat a prodigious large black cat which had been tutored for the purpose.
They were let in by our hero's chamberlain, whose face, naturally thin and dark, was enhanced with fake whiskers, making him look quite fitting for the Persian outfit he wore, resembling a proper master of ceremonies for an Eastern sorcerer. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head, striding in solemn silence ahead of them into the inner sanctum of the temple, where they found the conjurer seated at a table equipped with a pen, ink, paper, various books, mathematical tools, and a long white wand stretched across everything. He was dressed in a black robe and a fur cap. His expression, beyond a significant level of philosophical seriousness he had taken on for the occasion, was complemented by a thick beard as white as snow that reached down to his waist, and perched on each shoulder was an enormous black cat that had been trained for the purpose.
Such a figure, which would have startled Peregrine himself, had not he been concerned in the mystery, could not fail to make an impression upon those whom he accompanied. The fictitious chambermaid, in spite of all her natural pertness and vivacity, changed colour when she entered the room, while the pretended lady, whose intellects were not quite so enlightened, began to tremble in every joint, and ejaculate petitions to Heaven for her safety. Their conductor, advancing to the table, presented his offering, and, pointing to the maid, told him, that lady desired to know what would be her destiny in point of marriage. The philosopher, without lifting up his eyes to view the person in whose behalf he was consulted, turned his ear to one of the sable familiars that purred upon his shoulder, and, taking up the pen, wrote upon a detached slip of paper these words, which Peregrine, at the desire of the ladies, repeated aloud: “Her destiny will, in a great measure, depend upon what happened to her about nine o'clock in the morning on the third day of last December.”
Such a sight, which would have shocked Peregrine himself if he hadn’t been involved in the mystery, was bound to make an impression on those he was with. The pretend chambermaid, despite her usual sass and energy, turned pale when she entered the room, while the fake lady, who's not quite as smart, started trembling all over and muttering prayers for her safety. Their guide approached the table, made his offering, and pointed to the maid, saying that she wanted to know her fate in marriage. The philosopher, without lifting his gaze to see who he was addressing, leaned his ear toward one of the dark figures resting on his shoulder and, picking up a pen, wrote on a scrap of paper these words, which Peregrine repeated aloud at the ladies' request: “Her fate will mostly depend on what happened to her around nine o'clock in the morning on the third day of last December.”
This sentence was no sooner pronounced, than the counterfeit lady screamed, and ran into the ante-chamber, exclaiming, “Christ have mercy upon us! Sure he is the devil incarnate!” Her mistress, who followed her with great consternation, insisted upon knowing the transaction to which the response alluded; and Mrs. Abigail, after some recollection, gave her to understand that she had an admirer, who, on that very hour and day mentioned by the cunning man, had addressed himself to her in a serious proposal of marriage. This explanation, however, was more ingenious than candid, for the admirer was no other than the identical Mr. Pickle himself, who was a mere dragon among the chambermaids, and, in his previous information communicated to his associate, had given an account of this assignation, with which he had been favoured by the damsel in question.
This sentence had barely been spoken when the fake lady screamed and ran into the next room, exclaiming, “Lord, have mercy on us! He must be the devil himself!” Her mistress, who followed her in shock, insisted on finding out what had happened. Mrs. Abigail, after thinking for a moment, explained that she had an admirer who, at that very hour and on that very day mentioned by the con artist, had made a serious marriage proposal to her. However, this explanation was more clever than honest, as the admirer was none other than Mr. Pickle himself, who was quite a terror among the chambermaids, and in his previous message to his friend, he had recounted the arrangement that he had been given by the girl in question.
Our hero seeing his company very much affected with the circumstance of the wizard's art, which had almost frightened both mistress and maid into hysteric fits, pretended to laugh them out of their fears, by observing, that there was nothing extraordinary in this instance of his knowledge, which might have been acquired by some of those secret emissaries whom such impostors are obliged to employ for intelligence, or imparted by the lover himself, who had, perhaps, come to consult him about the success of his amour. Encouraged by this observation, or rather prompted by an insatiable curiosity, which was proof against all sorts of apprehension, the disguised lady returned to the magician's own apartment, and, assuming the air of a pert chambermaid, “Mr. Conjurer,” said she, “now you have satisfied my mistress, will you be as good as to tell me if ever I shall be married?” The sage, without the least hesitation, favoured her with an answer, in the following words: “You cannot be married before you are a widow; and whether or not that will ever be the case, is a question which my art cannot resolve, because my foreknowledge exceeds not the term of thirty years.”
Our hero noticed that his companions were quite shaken by the wizard's magic, which had nearly terrified both the lady and her maid into hysterical fits. He pretended to laugh off their fears, pointing out that there was nothing remarkable about his knowledge, which might have come from secret informants that such frauds often use for information, or possibly from the lover himself, who might have consulted him about his romantic endeavors. Buoyed by this comment, or more accurately driven by a relentless curiosity that was unaffected by any fears, the disguised lady went back to the magician's room and, adopting the demeanor of a cheeky maid, said, “Mr. Conjurer, now that you've put my mistress at ease, could you tell me if I will ever get married?” Without any hesitation, the sage replied, “You cannot marry before you are a widow; whether that will happen is a matter my art cannot determine, as my foresight does not extend beyond thirty years.”
This reply, which at once cut her off from her pleasing prospect of seeing herself independent in the enjoyment of youth and fortune, in a moment clouded her aspect; all her good-humour was overcast, and she went away, without further inquiry, muttering in the rancour of her chagrin, that he was a silly impertinent fellow, and a mere quack in his profession. Notwithstanding the prejudice of this resentment, her conviction soon recurred; and when the report of his answers was made to those confederates by whom she had been deputed to make trial of his skill, they were universally persuaded that his art was altogether supernatural, though each affected to treat it with contempt, resolving in her own breast to have recourse to him in private.
This response, which immediately dashed her hopes of being independent while enjoying her youth and wealth, quickly darkened her expression; all her good mood faded, and she walked away without asking anything more, mumbling in her frustration that he was a foolish and arrogant guy, and just a quack in his field. Despite her initial anger, her belief soon returned; when the feedback about his answers was shared with those who had sent her to test his abilities, they were all convinced that his skills were completely supernatural, even though they pretended to dismiss it, while she secretly decided to seek his help privately.
In the meantime, the maid, though laid under the most peremptory injunctions of secrecy, was so full of the circumstance which related to her own conduct, that she extolled his prescience, in whispers, to all acquaintances, assuring them, that he had told her all the particulars of her life; so that his fame was almost instantaneously conveyed, through a thousand different channels, to all parts of the town; and, the very next time he assumed the chair, his doors were besieged by curious people of all sects and denominations.
In the meantime, the maid, despite the strict orders to keep quiet, was so caught up in what had to do with her own actions that she praised his insight in hushed tones to everyone she knew, claiming he had shared all the details of her life with her. As a result, his reputation quickly spread through countless channels to every corner of the town; and the very next time he took his seat, his doors were crowded with curious people from all walks of life.
Being an old practitioner in this art, Cadwallader knew it would be impossible for him to support his reputation in the promiscuous exercise of fortune-telling, because every person that should come to consult him would expect a sample of his skill relating to things past; and it could not be supposed that he was acquainted with the private concerns of every individual who might apply to him for that purpose. He, therefore, ordered his minister, whom he distinguished by the name of Hadgi Rourk, to signify to all those who demanded entrance, that his price was half a guinea; and that all such as were not disposed to gratify him with that consideration, would do well to leave the passage free for the rest.
Being an experienced practitioner in this art, Cadwallader knew it would be impossible for him to maintain his reputation in the random practice of fortune-telling, since everyone who came to consult him would expect a demonstration of his abilities regarding past events; and it couldn't be assumed that he was familiar with the personal matters of every individual who sought his services. Therefore, he instructed his assistant, whom he referred to as Hadgi Rourk, to inform everyone requesting entry that his fee was half a guinea, and those not willing to pay that amount should clear the way for the others.
This declaration succeeded to his wish; for this congregation consisted chiefly of footmen, chambermaids, prentices, and the lower class of tradesmen, who could not afford to purchase prescience at such a price; so that, after fruitless offers of shillings and half-crowns, they dropped off one by one, and left the field open for customers of a higher rank.
This announcement fulfilled his wish; because this crowd was mostly made up of footmen, chambermaids, apprentices, and lower-level tradespeople, who couldn't afford to buy foresight at such a price. So, after trying in vain to offer shillings and half-crowns, they gradually left, clearing the way for customers of a higher class.
The first person of this species who appeared was dressed like the wife of a substantial tradesman; but this disguise could not screen her from the penetration of the conjurer, who at first sight knew her to be one of the ladies of whose coming he had been apprised by Peregrine, on the supposition that their curiosity was rather inflamed than allayed by the intelligence they had received from his first client. This lady approached the philosopher with that intrepidity of countenance so conspicuous in matrons of her dignified sphere, and, in a soft voice, asked with a simper, of what complexion her next child would be? The necromancer, who was perfectly well acquainted with her private history, forthwith delivered his response in the following question, written in the usual form: “How long has Pompey the black been dismissed from your ladyship's service?”
The first person of this group who showed up was dressed like the wife of a well-off tradesman; however, this disguise couldn't hide her from the conjurer, who immediately recognized her as one of the ladies Peregrine had warned him about. He assumed their curiosity was more stirred up than settled by the information they had received from his first client. This lady approached the philosopher with the boldness typical of women in her respectable position and, with a sweet smile, asked in a soft voice what color her next child would be. The sorcerer, who knew her background very well, quickly replied with a question, written in the usual style: “How long has Pompey the black been let go from your service?”
Endued as she was with a great share of that fortitude which is distinguished by the appellation of effrontery, her face exhibited some signs of shame and confusion at the receipt of this oracular interrogation, by which she was convinced of his extraordinary intelligence; and, accosting him in a very serious tone, “Doctor,” said she, “I perceive you are a person of great abilities in the art you profess; and therefore, without pretending to dissemble, I will own you have touched the true string of my apprehensions. I am persuaded I need not be more particular in my inquiries. Here is a purse of money; take it, and deliver me from a most alarming and uneasy suspense.” So saying, she deposited her offering upon the table, and waited for his answer, with a face of fearful expectation, while he was employed in writing this sentence for her perusal: “Though I see into the womb of time, the prospect is not perfectly distinct: the seeds of future events lie mingled and confused. So that I am under the necessity of assisting my divination in some cases, by analogy and human intelligence; and cannot possibly satisfy your present doubts, unless you will condescend to make me privy to all those occurrences which you think might have interfered with the cause of your apprehension.”
Endowed as she was with a good amount of that boldness often called effrontery, her face showed some signs of shame and confusion at this prophetic question, which convinced her of his remarkable intelligence. Addressing him in a serious tone, she said, “Doctor, I see you’re a person of great skill in your field; and so, without pretending to hide anything, I admit that you have struck at the heart of my concerns. I believe I don’t need to be more specific in my questions. Here’s a purse of money; take it, and free me from this alarming and uncomfortable suspense.” With that, she placed her offering on the table and waited for his response, her face reflecting anxious anticipation, while he was busy writing this sentence for her to read: “Though I can see into the future, the view is not perfectly clear: the seeds of future events are mixed and confused. Therefore, I have to rely on analogy and human insight in some cases, and I can’t possibly address your current doubts unless you agree to share with me all the events you think might have affected the source of your concern.”
The lady having read the declaration, affected a small emotion of shyness and repugnance, and, seating herself upon a settee, after having cautiously informed herself of the privacy of the apartment, gave such a detail of the succession of her lovers, as amazed, while it entertained, the necromancer, as well as his friend Pickle, who, from a closet in which he had concealed himself, overheard every syllable of her confession. Cadwallader listened to her story with a look of infinite importance and sagacity, and, after a short pause, told her, that he would not pretend to give a categorical answer, until he should have deliberated maturely upon the various circumstances of the affair; but, if she would take the trouble of honouring him with another visit on his next public day, he hoped he should be able to give her full satisfaction. Conscious of the importance of her doubts, she could not help commending his caution, and took her leave, with a promise of returning at the appointed time. Then the conjurer being joined by his associate, they gave a loose to their mirth, which having indulged, they began to concert measures for inflicting some disgraceful punishment on the shameless and insatiate termagant who had so impudently avowed her own prostitution.
The woman read the statement, feigning a small sense of shyness and disgust. After making sure the room was private, she sat down on a couch and shared a detailed account of her past lovers, which amazed and entertained both the magician and his friend Pickle, who was hidden in a closet and overheard every word of her confession. Cadwallader listened intently, looking very serious and wise. After a moment, he told her he wouldn’t give a direct answer until he had carefully considered all the details of the situation. However, if she would be kind enough to visit him again on his next public day, he hoped to provide her with complete satisfaction. Aware of how important her concerns were, she appreciated his caution and promised to return at the scheduled time. Once the magician was joined by his partner, they gave in to their laughter and, after enjoying themselves, started planning how to impose some embarrassing punishment on the shameless and greedy woman who had so boldly admitted to her own promiscuity.
They were interrupted, however, in their conference, by the arrival of a new guest, who being announced by Hadgi, our hero retreated to his lurking-place, and Cadwallader resumed his mysterious appearance. This new client, though she hid her face in a mask, could not conceal herself from the knowledge of the conjurer, who, by her voice, recognised her to be an unmarried lady of his own acquaintance. She had, within a small compass of time, made herself remarkable for two adventures, which had not at all succeeded to her expectation. Being very much addicted to play, she had, at a certain rout, indulged that passion to such excess, as not only got the better of her justice, but also of her circumspection, so that she was unfortunately detected in her endeavours to appropriate to herself what was not lawfully her due. This small slip was attended with another indiscretion, which had likewise an unlucky effect upon her reputation. She had been favoured with the addresses of one of those hopeful heirs who swarm and swagger about town, under the denomination of bucks; and, in the confidence of his honour, consented to be one of a party that made an excursion as far as Windsor, thinking herself secured from scandal by the company of another young lady, who had also condescended to trust her person to the protection of her admirer. The two gallants, in the course of this expedition, were said to use the most perfidious means to intoxicate the passions of their mistresses by mixing drugs with their wine, which inflamed their constitutions to such a degree, that they fell an easy sacrifice to the appetites of their conductors, who, upon their return to town, were so base and inhuman as to boast among their companions of the exploit they had achieved. Thus the story was circulated, with a thousand additional circumstances to the prejudice of the sufferers, one of whom had thought proper to withdraw into the country, until the scandal raised at her expense should subside; while the other, who was not so easily put out of countenance, resolved to outface the report, as a treacherous aspersion, invented by her lover as an excuse for his own inconstancy; and actually appeared in public, as usual, till she found herself neglected by the greatest part of her acquaintance.
They were interrupted in their meeting by the arrival of a new guest. Announced by Hadgi, our hero slipped away to his hiding spot while Cadwallader kept up his mysterious demeanor. This new visitor, although her face was hidden behind a mask, couldn’t hide her identity from the conjurer, who recognized her by her voice as an unmarried woman he knew. Recently, she had become known for two misadventures that hadn’t gone as she hoped. Being quite fond of gambling, she had let this passion get the better of her at a recent party, losing not only her honor but also her caution, and was unfortunately caught trying to take something that wasn’t hers. This small mistake was followed by another blunder that negatively affected her reputation. She had received attention from one of those flashy young heirs who flaunt around town as "bucks." Confident in his integrity, she agreed to join a group on a trip to Windsor, believing that the presence of another young lady, who also trusted her admirer, would keep her safe from scandal. During this trip, the two young men reportedly employed deceitful tactics to intoxicate their dates by mixing drugs into their wine, which heightened their desires to the point where they became easy prey for their captors. Once back in town, the two men were cruel enough to boast about what they had done among their friends. The story spread, embellished with countless details to further damage the victims' reputations. One of the women chose to retreat to the countryside until the gossip about her subsided, while the other, less easily embarrassed, decided to confront the rumors head-on as a deceitful smear concocted by her lover to justify his own disloyalty. She actually went out in public as usual until she noticed most of her friends had started to ignore her.
In consequence of this disgrace, which she knew not whether to impute to the card affair, or to the last faux pas she had committed, she now came to consult the conjurer, and signified her errand, by asking whether the cause of her present disquiet was of the town or the country. Cadwallader at once perceiving her allusion, answered her question in these terms: “This honest world will forgive a young gamester for indiscretion at play, but a favour granted to a babbling coxcomb is an unpardonable offence.” This response she received with equal astonishment and chagrin; and, fully convinced of the necromancer's omniscience, implored his advice, touching the retrieval of her reputation: upon which he counselled her to wed with the first opportunity. She seemed so well pleased with his admonition, that she gratified him with a double fee, and, dropping a low curtsey, retired.
Because of this humiliation, which she couldn't decide whether to blame on the card incident or her latest mistake, she went to consult the fortune-teller. She started by asking whether the reason for her current distress was something from the town or the country. Cadwallader immediately understood her reference and responded, “This honest world will forgive a young gambler for making a mistake while playing, but granting a favor to a foolish chatterbox is an unforgivable sin.” She received this answer with a mix of shock and frustration, and, completely convinced of the mystic's insight, she asked for his advice on how to regain her reputation. He advised her to marry at the first opportunity. She seemed so pleased with his advice that she rewarded him with a double fee and, after giving a deep curtsy, left.
Our undertakers now thought it high time to silence the oracle for the day, and Hadgi was accordingly ordered to exclude all comers, while Peregrine and his friend renewed the deliberations which had been interrupted, and settled a plan of operations for the next occasion. Meanwhile it was resolved that Hadgi should not only exercise his own talents, but also employ inferior agents, in procuring general intelligence for the support of their scheme; that the expense of this ministry should be defrayed from the profits of their professions; and the remainder be distributed to poor families in distress.
Our undertakers thought it was about time to quiet the oracle for the day, so Hadgi was instructed to keep everyone out. Meanwhile, Peregrine and his friend picked up their earlier discussions and worked out a plan for their next move. It was also decided that Hadgi would not only use his own skills but also hire less skilled agents to gather general information to support their plan. The costs for this effort would come from the profits of their professions, while the rest would be distributed to families in need.
CHAPTER LXXXIII.
Peregrine and his friend Cadwallader proceed in the Exercise of the Mystery of Fortune-telling, in the course of which they achieve various Adventures.
Peregrine and his friend Cadwallader engage in the practice of fortune-telling, during which they encounter various adventures.
These preliminaries being adjusted, our hero forthwith repaired to a card assembly, which was frequented by some of the most notable gossips in town, and, having artfully turned the conversation upon the subject of the fortune-teller, whose talents he pretended to ridicule, incensed their itch of knowing secrets to such a degree of impatience, that their curiosity became flagrant, and he took it for granted, that all or some of them would visit Albumazar on his very first visiting-day. While Peregrine was thus engaged, his associate made his appearance in another convocation of fashionable people, where he soon had the pleasure of hearing the conjurer brought upon the carpet by an elderly gentlewoman, remarkable for her inquisitive disposition, who, addressing herself to Cadwallader, asked, by the help of the finger-alphabet, if he knew anything of the magician that made such a noise in town. The misanthrope answered, as usual, in a surly tone: “By your question you must either take me for a pimp or an idiot. What, in the name of nonsense, should I know of such a rascal, unless I were to court his acquaintance with a view to feast my own spleen, in seeing him fool the whole nation out of their money? Though, I suppose, his chief profits arise from his practice, in quality of pander. All fortune-tellers are bawds, and, for that reason, are so much followed by people of fashion. This fellow, I warrant, has got sundry convenient apartments for the benefit of procreation; for it is not to be supposed that those who visit him on the pretence of consulting his supernatural art, can be such fools, such drivellers, as to believe that he can actually prognosticate future events.”
Once those preliminary matters were settled, our hero quickly went to a card gathering, a favorite spot for some of the most notorious gossips in town. He skillfully steered the conversation towards the fortune-teller, feigning to mock the idea, which only heightened their desire to uncover secrets to such an extent that their curiosity became evident. He assumed that all or at least some of them would visit Albumazar on his very first day of appointments. While Peregrine was engrossed in this, his companion appeared at another gathering of fashionable folks, where he soon enjoyed hearing the conjurer brought up by an elderly woman known for her nosy nature. She addressed Cadwallader using the finger-alphabet and asked, through gestures, if he knew anything about the magician causing such a stir in town. The misanthrope replied, as usual, in a grumpy tone: “By your question, you must think I’m either a pimp or an idiot. What, for heaven's sake, would I know about that con artist, unless I were looking to befriend him just to satisfy my own irritation by watching him deceive the whole nation out of their money? Though, I assume his main profits come from his role as a go-between. All fortune-tellers are just dealers in vice, and that’s why they attract so many high-society clients. This guy, I bet, has several convenient rooms for the benefit of, let’s say, procreation; because it’s hard to believe that those who visit him under the pretense of seeking his supernatural wisdom can really be such fools, such idiots, as to think he can actually predict the future.”
The company, according to his expectation, imputed his remarks to the rancour of his disposition, which could not bear to think that any person upon earth was wiser than himself; and his ears were regaled with a thousand instances of the conjurer's wonderful prescience, for which he was altogether indebted to fiction. Some of these specimens being communicated to him by way of appeal to his opinion, “They are,” said he, “mere phantoms of ignorance and credulity, swelled up in the repetition, like those unsubstantial bubbles which the boys blow up in soap-suds with a tobacco-pipe. And this will ever be the case in the propagation of all extraordinary intelligence. The imagination naturally magnifies every object that falls under its cognizance, especially those that concern the passions of fear and admiration; and when the occurrence comes to be rehearsed, the vanity of the relater exaggerates every circumstance in order to enhance the importance of the communication. Thus an incident, which is but barely uncommon, often gains such accession in its progress through the fancies and mouths of those who represent it, that the original fact cannot possibly be distinguished. This observation might be proved and illustrated by a thousand undeniable examples, out of which I shall only select one instance, for the entertainment and edification of the company.” A very honest gentleman, remarkable for the gravity of his deportment, was one day in a certain coffee-house accosted by one of his particular friends, who, taking him by the hand, expressed uncommon satisfaction in seeing him abroad, and in good health, after the dangerous and portentous malady he had undergone. Surprised at this salutation, the gentleman replied, it was true he had been a little out of order overnight, but there was nothing at all extraordinary in his indisposition. “Jesu! not extraordinary!” cried the other, “when you vomited three black crows.” This strange exclamation the grave gentleman at first mistook for raillery, though his friend was no joker; but, perceiving in him all the marks of sincerity and astonishment, he suddenly changed his opinion, and, after a short reverie, taking him aside, expressed himself in these words: “Sir, it is not unknown to you that I am at present engaged in a treaty of marriage, which would have been settled long ago, had it not been retarded by the repeated machinations of a certain person who professed himself my rival. Now I am fully persuaded that this affair of the three crows is a story of his invention, calculated to prejudice me in the opinion of the lady, who, to be sure, would not choose to marry a man who has a rookery in his bowels; and, therefore, I must insist upon knowing the author of this scandalous report, that I may be able to vindicate my character from the malicious aspersion.” His friend, who thought the demand was very reasonable, told him, without hesitation, that he was made acquainted with the circumstances of his distemper by Mr. Such-a-one, their common acquaintance: upon which the person who conceived himself injured went immediately in quest of his supposed defamer, and having found him: “Pray, sir,” said he, with a peremptory tone, “who told you that I vomited three black crows?”—“Three?” answered the gentleman, “I mentioned two only.”—“Zounds! Sir,” cried the other, incensed at his indifference, “you will find the two too many, if you refuse to discover the villainous source of such calumny.” The gentleman, surprised at his heat, said he was sorry to find he had been the accidental instrument of giving him offence, but translated the blame, if any there was, from himself to a third person, to whose information he owed his knowledge of the report. The plaintiff, according to the direction he received, repaired to the house of the accused; and his indignation being inflamed at finding the story had already circulated among his acquaintance, he told him, with evident marks of displeasure, that he was come to pluck the same brace of crows which he said he had disgorged. The defendant, seeing him very much irritated, positively denied that he had mentioned a brace: “One indeed,” said he, “I own I took notice of, upon the authority of your own physician, who gave me an account of it this morning.”—“By the Lord!” cried the sufferer, in a rage, which he could no longer contain, “that rascal has been suborned by my rival to slander my character in this manner: but I'll be revenged, if there be either law or equity in England.” He had scarce pronounced these words, when the doctor happened to enter the room: when his exasperated patient lifting up his cane, “Sirrah,” said he, “if I live, I'll make that black crow the blackest circumstance of thy whole life and conversation.” The physician, confounded at this address, assured him that he was utterly ignorant of his meaning, and, when the other gentleman explained it, absolutely denied the charge, affirming he had said no more than that he had vomited a quantity of something as black as a crow. The landlord of the house acknowledged that he might have been mistaken; and thus the whole mystery was explained.
The company believed, as he expected, that his comments were influenced by the bitterness of his nature, which couldn’t accept that anyone on earth was smarter than him. He was bombarded with many examples of the magician's amazing foresight, all of which were purely fictional. When some of these examples were shared with him for his opinion, he said, “They are just illusions born from ignorance and gullibility, ballooning up through repetition like those insubstantial bubbles that kids blow in soap with a pipe. This happens whenever exceptional stories are told. Our imagination tends to amplify anything it notices, particularly matters related to fear and admiration; and when the story is retold, the storyteller's vanity inflates every detail to make the tale seem more significant. So, an event that’s somewhat unusual can become so embellished through the thoughts and words of those who share it that the original fact is lost altogether. I could prove this with countless undeniable examples, but I’ll just share one story for the entertainment and enlightenment of everyone here." One day at a coffee shop, a very serious gentleman was approached by one of his close friends, who, taking him by the hand, expressed great happiness to see him out and healthy after the serious and frightening illness he had faced. Surprised by this greeting, the gentleman replied that he had indeed felt a bit unwell the night before, but that there was nothing extraordinary about his condition. “Really? Not extraordinary?” the other exclaimed, “when you vomited three black crows!” Initially, the serious gentleman thought his friend was joking, even though he was known not to be a prankster. However, seeing his friend’s sincerity and astonishment, he quickly changed his mind. After a brief moment of contemplation, he pulled him aside and said, “Sir, you know I’m currently negotiating a marriage that would have been settled by now, were it not delayed by the repeated schemes of a certain person who claims to be my rival. I’m convinced this story about the three crows is a fabrication meant to damage my reputation in the eyes of the lady, who certainly wouldn’t want to marry someone with a ‘rookery’ in his belly. Therefore, I must insist on knowing who spread this scandalous rumor so I can clear my name." His friend, finding the request reasonable, told him without hesitation that he had heard about his illness from Mr. Such-and-Such, their mutual acquaintance. The gentleman who felt wronged then immediately went looking for his supposed defamer. When he found him, he demanded, “Excuse me, sir, who told you that I vomited three black crows?” “Three?” replied the gentleman, “I only mentioned two.” “Good grief! Sir,” the other snapped, angered by his indifference, “you might find two to be too many if you refuse to reveal the wicked source of such slander.” Taken aback by this outburst, the gentleman expressed regret for having unintentionally offended him but shifted the blame, if any was due, onto a third party from whom he had heard the report. The aggrieved gentleman then went to the accused’s house, his outrage growing upon learning that the story had already spread among their acquaintances. He stated, with clear signs of displeasure, that he had come to retrieve the same pair of crows he was accused of having expelled. The accused, seeing him so agitated, denied having mentioned a pair: “I did say one, based on what your doctor told me this morning.” “By God!” yelled the sufferer, unable to contain his fury, “that scoundrel has been bribed by my rival to tarnish my character this way; I’ll get revenge if there’s any justice in England.” Barely had he said this when the doctor happened to enter the room. With his cane raised, the irate patient declared, “You!” and exclaimed, “If I survive, I’ll make that black crow the worst aspect of your entire life.” The physician, confused, insisted he didn’t understand what the man meant and, when the other gentleman clarified, completely denied the accusation, claiming he had only said that the patient had vomited something as black as a crow. The landlord of the establishment said there might have been some misunderstanding, and thus the entire matter was cleared up.
The company seeming to relish the story of the three black crows, which they considered as an impromptu of Cadwallader's own invention; but, granting it to be true, they unanimously declared that it could have no weight in invalidating the testimony of divers persons of honour, who had been witnesses of the magician's supernatural skill. On the next day of consultation, the necromancer being in the chair, and his friend behind the curtain, the outward door was scarce opened, when a female visitant flounced in, and discovered to the magician the features of one of those inquisitive ladies, whose curiosity, he knew, his confederate had aroused in the matter above described. She addressed herself to him with a familiar air, observing, that she had heard much of his great knowledge, and was come to be a witness of his art, which she desired him to display, in declaring what he knew to be her ruling passion.
The company seemed to enjoy the story of the three black crows, which they thought was an off-the-cuff creation by Cadwallader himself; however, even if it were true, they all agreed it wouldn't undermine the testimony of several honorable people who had witnessed the magician's supernatural abilities. The next day during the meeting, with the necromancer in charge and his friend behind the curtain, the door barely opened when a female visitor burst in, revealing the face of one of those curious ladies whose interest, he knew, his accomplice had sparked regarding the earlier discussion. She approached him casually, mentioning that she had heard a lot about his great knowledge and had come to see his skills in action by asking him to reveal what he understood to be her deepest desire.
Cadwallader, who was no stranger to her disposition, assumed the pen without hesitation, and furnished her with an answer, importing, that the love of money predominated, and scandal possessed the next place in her heart. Far from being offended at his freedom, she commended his frankness with a smile; and, satisfied of his uncommon talents, expressed a desire of being better acquainted with his person; nay, she began to catechise him upon the private history of divers great families, in which he happened to be well versed: and he, in a mysterious manner, dropped such artful hints of his knowledge, that she was amazed at his capacity, and actually asked if his art was communicable. The conjurer replied in the affirmative; but, at the same time, gave her to understand, that it was attainable by those only who were pure and undefiled in point of chastity and honour, or such as, by a long course of penitence, had weaned themselves from all attachments to the flesh. She not only disapproved, but seemed to doubt the truth of this assertion; telling him, with a look of disdain, that his art was not worth having, if one could not use it for the benefit of one's pleasure; she had even penetration enough to take notice of an inconsistency in what he had advanced; and asked, why he himself exercised his knowledge for hire, if he was so much detached from all worldly concerns. “Come, come, doctor,” added she, “you are in the right to be cautious against impertinent curiosity, but, perhaps, I may make it worth your while to be communicative.”
Cadwallader, who knew her personality well, took the pen without hesitation and gave her an answer, suggesting that her love for money was dominant, and that scandal was next on her list of interests. Instead of being offended by his candidness, she smiled and praised his honesty; confident in his exceptional skills, she expressed a desire to get to know him better. She even started to question him about the private histories of several prominent families, which he was knowledgeable about. In a mysterious way, he dropped cleverly crafted hints about his knowledge that left her impressed, and she actually asked if he could share his secrets. The magician replied that he could, but also made it clear that only those who were pure and honorable, or those who had spent a long time repenting and distancing themselves from all earthly ties, could truly grasp his art. She not only disagreed but also seemed to doubt the truth of this claim, telling him with a disapproving look that his knowledge wasn’t worth having if one couldn’t use it for their own enjoyment. She was sharp enough to point out a contradiction in his argument, asking why he used his skills for money if he was so detached from worldly matters. “Come on, doctor,” she added, “it’s wise to be careful about unnecessary questions, but maybe I can make it worthwhile for you to share more.”
These overtures were interrupted by a rap at the door, signifying the approach of another client; upon which the lady inquired for his private passage, through which she might retire, without the risk of being seen. When she understood he was deficient in that convenience, she withdrew into an empty room adjoining to the audience-chamber, in order to conceal herself from the observation of the new-comer. This was no other than the inamorata, who came, by appointment, to receive the solution of her doubts; and the misanthrope, glad of an opportunity to expose her to the censure of such an indefatigable minister of fame as the person who he knew would listen from the next apartment, laid her under the necessity of refreshing his remembrance with a recapitulation of her former confession, which was almost finished, when she was alarmed by a noise at the door, occasioned by two gentlemen, who attempted to enter by force.
These conversations were interrupted by a knock at the door, signaling the arrival of another client. The lady asked how she could leave privately without being seen. When she realized he didn’t have a way for her to do that, she went into an empty room next to the audience chamber to hide from the newcomer. This was none other than the woman in love, who had come as agreed to get answers to her questions. The misanthrope, pleased to have a chance to expose her to the scrutiny of such a relentless gossip as the person he knew would be listening from the next room, made her repeat parts of her earlier confession. She was almost done when she was startled by a commotion at the door caused by two gentlemen trying to force their way in.
Terrified at this uproar, which disconcerted the magician himself, she ran for shelter into the place which was preoccupied by the other lady, who, hearing this disturbance, had closed the window-shutters, that she might have the better chance of remaining unknown. Here they ensconced themselves in the utmost consternation, while the necromancer, after some recollection, ordered Hadgi to open the door, and admit the rioters, who, he hoped, would be over-awed by the authority of his appearance. The janitor had no sooner obeyed his instructions, than in rushed a young libertine, who had been for some time upon the town, together with his tutor, who was a worn-out debauchee, well known to the magician. They were both in that degree of intoxication necessary to prepare such dispositions for what they commonly call frolics, and the sober part of mankind feel to be extravagant outrages against the laws of their country, and the peace of their fellow-subjects. Having staggered up to the table, the senior, who undertook to be spokesman, saluted Cadwallader with, “How dost do, old Capricorn? Thou seem'st to be a most venerable pimp, and, I doubt not, hast abundance of discretion. Here is this young whoremaster, a true chip of the old venereal block his father, and myself, come for a comfortable cast of thy function. I don't mean that stale pretence of conjuring—d— futurity; let us live for the present, old Haly. Conjure me up a couple of hale wenches, and I warrant we shall get into the magic circle in a twinkling. What says Galileo? What says the Reverend Brahe? Here is a purse, you pimp. Hark, how it chinks! This is sweeter than the music of spheres.”
Terrified by the chaos, which even unsettled the magician, she ran for cover into the room occupied by the other lady, who, hearing the commotion, shut the window shutters to stay hidden. They huddled together in utter panic while the magician, after thinking it over, instructed Hadgi to open the door and let the troublemakers in, hoping they would be intimidated by his presence. As soon as the janitor followed the order, a young libertine, who had been in town for a while, barged in with his tutor, a tired old debauchee known to the magician. Both were drunk enough to feel ready for what they liked to call fun, while the sober folks considered their antics outrageous violations of their country’s laws and peace. Stumbling over to the table, the older man, taking the lead, greeted Cadwallader with, “How’s it going, old Capricorn? You look like quite the wise pimp and I bet you have plenty of sense. This young whoremaster is just like his father, and I’m here for a good time, just like him. I’m not talking about that tired old trick of conjuring—d—what’s to come; let’s enjoy the moment, old Haly. Bring me up a couple of healthy girls, and I guarantee we’ll get into the magic circle in no time. What does Galileo say? What does the Reverend Brahe say? Here’s a purse for you, pimp. Listen to that sound! It’s sweeter than the music of the spheres.”
Our necromancer, perplexed at this rencontre, made no reply; but, taking up his wand, waved it around his head in a very mysterious motion, with a view of intimidating these forward visitants, who, far from being awed by this sort of evolution, became more and more obstreperous, and even threatened to pull him by the beard, if he would not immediately comply with their desire. Had he called his associate, or even Hadgi, to his aid, he knew he could have soon calmed their turbulence; but, being unwilling to run the risk of a discovery, or even of a riot, he bethought himself of chastising their insolence in another manner, that would be less hazardous, and rather more effectual. In consequence of this suggestion, he pointed his wand towards the door of the apartment in which the ladies had taken sanctuary; and the two rakes, understanding the hint, rushed in without hesitation.
Our necromancer, confused by this encounter, didn't respond; instead, he picked up his wand and waved it around his head in a mysterious way, intending to scare off these bold visitors. But rather than being intimidated, they became more disruptive and even threatened to pull his beard if he didn’t immediately give them what they wanted. He knew that if he called his partner or even Hadgi for help, he could easily calm them down, but he didn't want to risk being discovered or starting a scene. So, he thought about punishing their rudeness in a different way that would be safer and more effective. Following this idea, he pointed his wand at the door of the room where the ladies had taken cover, and the two troublemakers, catching on to the hint, rushed in without any hesitation.
The females, finding their place of retreat taken by assault, ran about the room in great consternation, and were immediately taken prisoners by the assailants, who, pulling them towards the windows, opened the shutters at the same instant of time, when, strange to tell! one of the heroes discovered in the prize he had made, the very wife of his bosom; and his companion perceived that he had stumbled in the dark upon his own mother. Their mutual astonishment was unspeakable at this eclaircissement, which produced a universal silence for the space of several minutes. During this pause, the ladies having recollected themselves, an expostulation was begun by the elder of the two, who roundly took her son to task for his disorderly life, which laid her under the disagreeable necessity of watching his motions, and detecting him in such an infamous place.
The women, realizing their safe space had been invaded, rushed around the room in panic and were quickly captured by the invaders. As they were pulled toward the windows, the shutters were flung open, and, strangely enough, one of the attackers recognized that the woman he had captured was actually his wife, while his friend realized he had unknowingly grabbed his own mother. Their shock at this revelation was beyond words, leading to an awkward silence that lasted several minutes. During this pause, the older woman composed herself and confronted her son, reprimanding him for his reckless lifestyle, which forced her to keep an eye on him and catch him in such a disgraceful situation.
While the careful mother thus exercised her talent for reprehension, the hopeful young gentleman, with a hand in each fob, stood whistling an opera tune, without seeming to pay the most profound regard to his parent's reproof; and the other lady, in imitation of such a consummate pattern, began to open upon her husband, whom she bitterly reproached with his looseness and intemperance, demanding to know what he had to allege in alleviation of his present misconduct. The surprise occasioned by such an unexpected meeting, had already, in a great measure, destroyed the effects of the wine he had so plentifully drunk, and the first use he made of his recovered sobriety, was to revolve within himself the motives that could possibly induce his wife to give him the rendezvous in this manner. As he had good reason to believe she was utterly void of jealousy, he naturally placed this rencontre to the account of another passion; and his chagrin was not at all impaired by the effrontery with which she now presumed to reprimand him. He listened to her, therefore, with a grave, or rather grim, aspect; and to the question with which she concluded her rebuke, answered, with great composure, “All that I have to allege, madam, is, that the bawd has committed a mistake, in consequence of which we are both disappointed; and so, ladies, your humble servant.” So saying, he retired, with manifest confusion in his looks; and, as he passed through the audience-chamber, eyeing the conjurer askance, pronounced the epithet of precious rascal, with great emphasis. Meanwhile, the junior, like a dutiful child, handed his mamma to her chair; and the other client, after having reviled the necromancer, because he could not foresee this event, went away in a state of mortification.
While the cautious mother was criticizing her son, the optimistic young man stood there whistling an opera tune with his hands in his pockets, appearing completely unfazed by his mother's scolding. Meanwhile, the other lady, trying to mimic such a bold example, began to confront her husband, harshly accusing him of his recklessness and excessive drinking, demanding to know what he had to say in defense of his current bad behavior. The shock of this unexpected encounter had mostly worn off the effects of the wine he had drunk, and the first thing he did with his regained clarity was to think about what could be motivating his wife to meet him like this. Because he had good reason to believe she was not jealous at all, he assumed this meeting was due to a different reason, and his frustration was only heightened by her audacity in reprimanding him. So he listened to her with a serious, or rather stern, expression, and when she finished her scolding, he calmly replied, "All I have to say, ma'am, is that the messenger made a mistake, which has led to our disappointment; and so, ladies, your humble servant." With that, he left, his confusion evident on his face, and as he walked through the waiting area, he glanced at the magician and called him a "precious rascal" with heavy emphasis. Meanwhile, the younger one, acting like a good child, helped his mom to her chair, and the other client, having blamed the magician for not predicting this situation, left feeling embarrassed.
The coast being clear, Peregrine came forth from his den, and congratulated his friend upon the peaceable issue of the adventure, which he had overheard; but, that he might not be exposed to such inconvenience for the future, they resolved, that a grate should be fixed in the middle of the outward door, through which the conjurer himself might reconnoitre all the visitants, before their admission; so that, to those whose appearance he might not like, Hadgi should, without opening, give notice, that his master was engaged. By this expedient too, they provided against those difficulties which Cadwallader must have encountered, in giving satisfaction to strangers, whom he did not know: for the original intention of the founders was to confine the practice of their art to people of fashion only, most of whom were personally known to the counterfeit magician and his coadjutors.
With the coast clear, Peregrine stepped out of his den and congratulated his friend on the peaceful outcome of the adventure he had overheard. To avoid such inconveniences in the future, they decided to install a grate in the middle of the outer door, allowing the conjurer to check who was visiting before letting them in. For those whose appearance he didn't approve of, Hadgi would inform them, without opening the door, that his master was busy. This solution also helped them deal with potential issues Cadwallader would have faced in satisfying strangers he didn’t know. The original goal of the founders was to limit their craft to high-profile individuals, most of whom were personally familiar to the fake magician and his helpers.
Indeed these associates, Cadwallader in particular, notwithstanding his boasted insight into the characters of life, never imagined that his pretended skill would be consulted by any but the weaker-minded of the female sex, incited by that spirit of curiosity which he knew was implanted in their nature; but, in the course of his practice, he found himself cultivated in his preternatural capacity by people of all sexes, complexions, and degrees of reputation, and had occasion to observe, that, when the passions are concerned, howsoever cool, cautious, and deliberate the disposition may otherwise be, there is nothing so idle, frivolous, or absurd, to which they will not apply for encouragement and gratification. The last occurrence, according to the hopes and expectation of the confederates, was whispered about by the ladies concerned, in such a manner, that the whole affair was in a few days the universal topic of discourse, in which it was retailed with numberless embellishments, invented by the parties themselves, who had long indulged a pique at each other, and took this opportunity of enjoying their revenge.
Indeed, these associates, especially Cadwallader, despite his claimed understanding of people's characters, never thought his supposed skills would be sought out by anyone other than the more naive women, driven by their natural curiosity. However, as he practiced, he found that people of all genders, backgrounds, and reputations sought his unusual abilities. He noted that when emotions are involved, no matter how calm, careful, and rational someone might normally be, they will turn to the most pointless, trivial, or ridiculous things for validation and satisfaction. The latest incident, according to the hopes and expectations of those involved, was spread among the women in such a way that within a few days it became the talk of the town, shared with countless embellishments created by the participants themselves, who had long held grudges against each other and used this chance to get their revenge.
These incidents, while they regaled the spleen, at the same time augmented the renown of the conjurer, who was described on both sides as a very extraordinary person in his way; and the alteration in his door was no sooner performed, than he had occasion to avail himself of it, against the intrusion of a great many, with whom he would have found it very difficult to support the fame he had acquired.
These incidents, while they entertained many, also boosted the reputation of the magician, who was noted on both sides as a truly remarkable individual; and as soon as he made the change to his door, he found it necessary to use it to keep out a lot of people, with whom he would have found it very challenging to maintain the fame he had gained.
Among those who appeared at his grate, he perceived a certain clergyman, whom he had long known a humble attendant on the great, and with some the reputed minister of their pleasures. This Levite had disguised himself in a greatcoat, boots, and dress quite foreign to the habit worn by those of his function; and, being admitted, attempted to impose himself as a country squire upon the conjurer, who, calling him by his name, desired him to sit down. This reception corresponding with the report he had heard, touching our magician's art, the doctor said he would lay aside all dissimulation. After having professed an implicit belief, that his supernatural knowledge did not proceed from any communication with evil spirits, but was the immediate gift of Heaven, he declared the intention of his coming, was to inquire into the health of a good friend and brother of his, who possessed a certain living in the country, which he named; and, as he was old and infirm, to know what space of time was allotted to him in this frail state of mortality, that he might have the melancholy satisfaction of attending him in his last moments, and assisting him in his preparations for eternity.
Among those who came to his grate, he recognized a certain clergyman, someone he had known for a long time as a humble servant to the powerful, and often seen as the one who indulged their pleasures. This clergyman had disguised himself in a long coat, boots, and attire that was quite unlike what people in his position usually wore; and, after being let in, he tried to pass himself off as a country gentleman to the magician, who, calling him by his name, invited him to sit down. Given this reception, which matched the rumors he had heard about the magician's skills, the doctor said he would drop all pretense. After stating that he fully believed this supernatural knowledge did not come from any interaction with evil spirits, but rather was a direct gift from Heaven, he explained the reason for his visit: to inquire about the health of a good friend and brother of his, who held a certain position in the country, which he mentioned; and since the man was old and frail, he wanted to know how much longer he had to live, so that he could have the somber satisfaction of being with him in his final moments and helping him prepare for eternity.
The conjurer, who at once perceived the purport of this question, after a solemn pause, during which he seemed absorbed in contemplation, delivered this response to his consulter: “Though I foresee some occurrences, I do not pretend to be omniscient. I know not to what age that clergyman's life will extend; but so far I can penetrate into the womb of time, as to discern, that the incumbent will survive his intended successor.” This dreadful sentence in a moment banished the blood from the face of the appalled consulter, who, hearing his own doom pronounced, began to tremble in every joint; he lifted up his eyes in the agony of fear, and saying, “The will of God be done,” withdrew in silent despondence, his teeth chattering with terror and dismay.
The magician, who immediately understood the meaning of the question, took a serious pause, seeming lost in thought, and replied: “While I can see some future events, I don’t claim to know everything. I can't tell how long that clergyman will live, but I can see far enough into the future to know that the current one will outlive his planned successor.” This terrifying statement quickly drained the color from the face of the shocked questioner, who, hearing his own fate declared, began to shake with fear; he looked up in anguish and said, “May God’s will be done,” before leaving in silent despair, his teeth chattering with dread.
This client was succeeded by an old man about the age of seventy-five, who, being resolved to purchase a lease, desired to be determined in the term of years by the necromancer's advice, observing, that, as he had no children of his own body, and had no regard for his heirs-at-law, the purchase would be made with a view to his own convenience only; and therefore, considering his age, he himself hesitated in the period of the lease, between thirty and three-score years.
This client was followed by an old man around seventy-five years old, who wanted to buy a lease and sought advice from a necromancer to determine the length of the term. He noted that since he had no children and didn't care about his legal heirs, the purchase would be for his own convenience only. Given his age, he was unsure whether to choose a lease for thirty years or sixty years.
The conjurer, upon due deliberation, advised him to double the last specified term, because he distinguished in his features something portending extreme old age and second childhood, and he ought to provide for that state of incapacity, which other-wise would be attended with infinite misery and affliction. The superannuated wretch, thunderstruck with this prediction, held up his hands, and in the first transports of his apprehension, exclaimed, “Lord have mercy upon me! I have not wherewithal to purchase such a long lease, and I have long outlived all my friends; what then must become of me, sinner that I am, one hundred and twenty years hence!” Cadwallader, who enjoyed his terror, under pretence of alleviating his concern, told him that what he had prognosticated did not deprive him of the means which he and every person had in their power, to curtail a life of misfortune; and the old gentleman went away, seemingly comforted with the assurance, that it would always be in his power to employ a halter for his own deliverance.
The magician, after careful thought, suggested that he should double the last mentioned term because he noticed something in his features that hinted at extreme old age and a return to childhood, and he should prepare for that state of helplessness, which otherwise would bring immense misery and suffering. The elderly man, stunned by this prediction, raised his hands and, in his initial shock, cried out, “Lord, have mercy on me! I can’t afford such a long lease, and I have long outlived all my friends; what will become of me, sinner that I am, one hundred and twenty years from now?” Cadwallader, who was enjoying his fear, pretended to ease his worry by telling him that what he had predicted didn’t take away his ability, along with everyone else’s, to shorten a life of hardship; and the old gentleman left, seemingly comforted by the reassurance that he could always take matters into his own hands for his own escape.
Soon after the retreat of this elder, the magician was visited by one of those worthies known among the Romans by the appellation of haeredipetae, who had amassed a large fortune by a close attention to the immediate wants and weakness of raw, inexperienced heirs. This honourable usurer had sold an annuity upon the life of a young spendthrift, being thereto induced by the affirmation of his physician, who had assured him his patient's constitution was so rotten, that he could not live one year to an end. He had, nevertheless, made shift to weather eighteen months, and now seemed more vigorous and healthy than he had ever been known: for he was supposed to have nourished an hereditary pox from his cradle. Alarmed at this alteration, the seller came to consult Cadwallader, not only about the life of the annuitant, but also concerning the state of his health at the time of his purchasing the annuity, purposing to sue the physician for false intelligence, should the conjurer declare that the young man was sound when the doctor pronounced him diseased. But this was a piece of satisfaction he did not obtain from the misanthrope, who, in order to punish his sordid disposition, gave him to understand, that the physician had told him the truth, and nothing but the truth; and that the young gentleman was in a fair way of attaining a comfortable old age. “That is to say,” cried the client, in the impatience of his mortification at this answer, “bating accidents; for, thank God, the annuitant does not lead the most regular life. Besides, I am credibly informed he is choleric and rash, so that he may be concerned in a duel. Then there are such things as riots in the street, in which a rake's skull may be casually cracked; he may be overturned in a coach, overset in the river, thrown from a vicious horse, overtaken with a cold, endangered by a surfeit; but what I place my chief confidence in, is a hearty pox, a distemper which hath been fatal to his whole family. Not but that the issue of all these things is uncertain, and expedients might be found which would more effectually answer the purpose. I know they have arts in India, by which a man can secure his own interest, in the salutation of a friendly shake by the hand; and I don't doubt that you, who have lived in that country, are master of the secret. To be sure, if you were inclined to communicate such a nostrum, there are abundance of people who would purchase it at a very high price.”
Soon after this elder’s departure, the magician was visited by one of those individuals known among the Romans as haeredipetae, who had accumulated a large fortune by closely paying attention to the immediate needs and vulnerabilities of inexperienced heirs. This reputable moneylender had sold an annuity based on the life of a young spendthrift, motivated by his doctor’s claim that the patient’s health was so poor he wouldn't live out the year. However, the young man had somehow managed to survive for eighteen months and now appeared healthier and more robust than ever, despite being thought to have dealt with a hereditary illness since birth. Concerned about this change, the seller consulted Cadwallader, not only regarding the life expectancy of the annuitant but also about the young man’s health at the time the annuity was purchased, planning to sue the doctor for misinformation if the magician confirmed the young man was in good health when the doctor declared him ill. But this was a piece of information he did not receive from the misanthrope, who, aiming to punish his greedy nature, suggested that the physician had indeed told him the truth; the young gentleman was on track to achieve a comfortable old age. “So, in other words,” exclaimed the client, frustrated by this response, “barring any accidents; after all, thank God, the annuitant doesn’t live the most disciplined life. Plus, I’ve heard he’s hot-tempered and impulsive, so he could get into a duel. Then there are street riots where a reckless person's head can get cracked; he might flip over in a carriage, drown in a river, get thrown off a wild horse, catch a cold, or suffer from overeating. But my main concern is a serious illness, something that has been deadly to his entire family. It’s true that the outcomes of all these situations are uncertain, and there might be methods that could better achieve the result I’m after. I know there are techniques in India where a person can secure their interests from a friendly handshake, and I don’t doubt that you, having lived there, possess this secret. Surely, if you were willing to share such a remedy, many people would pay a hefty sum for it.”
Cadwallader understood this insinuation, and was tempted to amuse him in such a manner as would tend to his disgrace and confusion; but, considering that the case was of too criminal a nature to be tampered with, he withstood his desire of punishing this rapacious cormorant any other way than by telling him he would not impart the secret for his whole fortune ten times doubled; so that the usurer retired, very much dissatisfied with the issue of his consultation.
Cadwallader got the hint and felt tempted to toy with him in a way that would lead to his embarrassment and downfall. However, realizing the situation was too serious to mess with, he held back his urge to punish this greedy opportunist in any way other than to tell him he wouldn't share the secret for ten times his entire fortune. As a result, the usurer left, quite unhappy with how things turned out.
The next person who presented himself at this altar of intelligence, was an author, who recommended himself to a gratis advice, by observing, that a prophet and poet were known by the same appellation among the ancients; and that, at this day, both the one and the other spoke by inspiration. The conjurer refused to own this affinity, which, he said, formerly subsisted, because both species of the vates were the children of fiction; but as he himself did not fall under that predicament, he begged leave to disown all connection with the family of the poets; and the poor author would have been dismissed without his errand, though he offered to leave an ode as security for the magician's fee, to be paid from the profits of his first third night, had not Cadwallader's curiosity prompted him to know the subject of this gentleman's inquiry. He therefore told him, that, in consideration of his genius, he would for once satisfy him without a fee; and desired him to specify the doubts in which he wished to be resolved.
The next person who came to this altar of knowledge was an author who sought free advice. He pointed out that in ancient times, a prophet and a poet were called by the same name, and that today, both spoke with inspiration. The magician refused to acknowledge this connection, claiming that it once existed because both types of vates were born from fiction; however, since he didn't fall into that category, he asked to distance himself from the family of poets. The poor author would have been sent away without help, even though he offered to leave an ode as collateral for the magician's fee, to be paid from the profits of his first performance, if Cadwallader's curiosity hadn't led him to ask about the author's question. Therefore, he told him that, considering his talent, he would answer him this one time for free and asked him to specify the doubts he needed resolved.
The son of Parnassus, glad of this condescension, for which he thanked the necromancer, gave him to understand, that he had some time before presented a play in manuscript to a certain great man, at the head of taste, who had not only read and approved the performance, but also undertaken to introduce and support it on the stage; that he, the author, was assured by this patron, that the play was already, in consequence of his recommendation, accepted by one of the managers, who had faithfully promised to bring it to light; but that, when he waited on this said manager, to know when he intended to put his production in rehearsal, the man declared he had never seen or heard of the piece. “Now, Mr. Conjurer,” said he, “I want to know whether or not my play has been presented, and if I have any sort of chance of seeing it acted this winter.”
The son of Parnassus, pleased with this favor and grateful to the necromancer, indicated that he had previously submitted a manuscript play to a notable figure known for good taste. This person had not only read and approved the work but had also agreed to help present and promote it on stage. The author was assured by this supporter that the play had, thanks to his endorsement, been accepted by one of the managers, who had promised to bring it to the audience. However, when the author approached this manager to find out when rehearsals would start, the manager claimed he had never seen or heard of the play. “Now, Mr. Conjurer,” he said, “I need to know if my play has been performed and if I have any chance of seeing it staged this winter.”
Cadwallader, who had, in his younger days, sported among the theatrical muses, began to lose his temper at this question, which recalled the remembrance of his own disappointments; and despatched the author with an abrupt answer, importing that the affairs of the stage were altogether without the sphere of his divination, being entirely regulated by the daemons of dissimulation, ignorance, and caprice.
Cadwallader, who had once dabbled in the theater in his younger days, began to lose his cool at this question, which reminded him of his own letdowns; and he sent the writer away with a curt response, indicating that the matters of the stage were completely outside of his understanding, being entirely controlled by the forces of deceit, ignorance, and unpredictability.
It would be an endless task to recount every individual response which our magician delivered in the course of his conjuration. He was consulted in all cases of law, physic, and trade, over and above the ordinary subjects of marriage and fornication; his advice and assistance were solicited by sharpers, who desired to possess an infallible method of cheating unperceived; by fortune-hunters, who wanted to make prize of widows and heiresses; by debauchees, who were disposed to be with other men's wives; by coxcombs, who longed for the death of their fathers; by wenches with child, who wished themselves rid of their burdens; by merchants, who had insured above value, and thirsted after the news of a wreck; by underwriters, who prayed for the gift of prescience, that they might venture money upon such ships only as should perform the voyage in safety; by Jews, who wanted to foresee the fluctuations of stock; by usurers, who advance money upon undecided causes; by clients, who were dubious of the honesty of their counsel. In short, all matters of uncertain issue were appealed to this tribunal; and, in point of calculation, De Moivre was utterly neglected.
It would be an endless task to recount every single response our magician gave during his performances. He was consulted in all kinds of legal, medical, and business matters, along with the usual topics of marriage and relationships; his advice and help were sought by con artists wanting a foolproof way to cheat without getting caught; by fortune-seekers aiming to marry widows and heiresses; by those wanting to have affairs with other men's wives; by narcissists wishing for their fathers' deaths; by women with children who wanted to get rid of their burdens; by merchants who had overinsured their goods and were eager for news of a shipwreck; by underwriters hoping for the gift of foresight so they could invest in ships likely to make it safely; by investors wanting to predict stock market changes; by loan sharks who financed uncertain cases; and by clients doubtful of their lawyers' honesty. In short, all matters with unpredictable outcomes were brought to this advisor; and when it came to calculations, De Moivre was completely overlooked.
CHAPTER LXXXIV.
The Conjurer and his Associate execute a Plan of Vengeance against certain Infidels who pretend to despise their Art; and Peregrine achieves an Adventure with a young Nobleman.
The Conjurer and his Partner carry out a Revenge Plan against some Nonbelievers who act like they look down on their Craft; and Peregrine has an Encounter with a young Nobleman.
By these means, the whole variety of characters undisguised passed, as it were, in review before the confederates, who, by divers ingenious contrivances, punished the most flagrant offenders with as much severity as the nature of their plan would allow. At length they projected a scheme for chastising a number of their own acquaintance, who had all along professed the utmost contempt for the talent of this conjurer, which they endeavoured to ridicule in all companies, where his surprising art was the subject of discourse; not that they had sense and discernment enough to perceive the absurdity of his pretensions, but affected a singularity of opinions, with a view of insulting the inferior understandings of those who were deceived by such an idle impostor.
By these means, the whole variety of characters openly passed in review before the group, who, using various clever tactics, punished the most obvious offenders with as much severity as their plan allowed. Eventually, they came up with a scheme to punish several of their acquaintances, who had always shown the utmost contempt for the skills of this magician. They tried to mock him in every gathering where his surprising abilities were discussed; not that they had the intelligence to see the absurdity of his claims, but they pretended to have unique opinions to insult the lesser minds of those deceived by such a silly fraud.
Peregrine, indeed, for obvious reasons, had always espoused their judgment in this case, and joined them in reviling the public character of his friend. But he knew how far the capacities of those virtuosi extended, and had frequently caught them in the fact of recounting their exploits against the conjurer, which were the productions of their own invention only. On these considerations, his wrath was kindled against them, and he accordingly concerted measures with his coadjutor, for overwhelming them with confusion and dismay.
Peregrine had always supported their opinion in this matter and joined them in criticizing his friend's reputation for obvious reasons. However, he was well aware of the limits of those so-called experts and had often caught them exaggerating their achievements against the magician, which were simply products of their imagination. Because of this, he became furious with them and decided to team up with his accomplice to overwhelm them with embarrassment and fear.
In the first place, a report was spread by his emissaries, that the magician had undertaken to entertain their view with the appearance of any person whom his customers should desire to see, whether dead, or at the distance of a thousand leagues. This extraordinary proposal chancing to be the subject of conversation in a place where most of those infidels were assembled, they talked of it in the usual style, and some of them swore the fellow ought to be pilloried for his presumption.
In the first place, a report was spread by his messengers that the magician had taken on the task of showing his customers the appearance of any person they wanted to see, whether dead or a thousand miles away. This amazing proposal happened to come up in conversation in a place where most of those nonbelievers gathered, and they discussed it in the usual way, with some of them swearing that the guy should be punished for his arrogance.
Our hero, seizing this favourable opportunity, acquiesced in their remarks, and observed, with great vehemence, that it would be a meritorious action to put the rascal to the proof, and then toss him in a blanket for non-performance. They were wonderfully pleased with this suggestion, and forthwith determined to try the experiment; though, as they understood the apparition would be produced to one only at a time, they could not immediately agree in the choice of the person who should stand the first brunt of the magician's skill. While each of them severally excused himself from this preference on various pretences, Peregrine readily undertook the post, expressing great confidence of the conjurer's incapacity to give him the least cause of apprehension.
Our hero, taking advantage of this opportunity, agreed with their comments and passionately stated that it would be a worthy action to test the trickster and then throw him in a blanket for not performing. They were very pleased with this idea and immediately decided to try it; however, since they knew the apparition would only appear to one person at a time, they couldn't agree on who should be the first one to face the magician's skill. While each of them came up with various excuses to avoid being chosen, Peregrine gladly volunteered for the role, showing great confidence in the conjurer's inability to scare him in the slightest.
This point being settled, they detached one of their number to Crabtree, in order to bespeak and adjust the hour and terms of the operation, which he insisted upon performing at his own apartment, where everything was prepared for the occasion. At the appointed time, they went thither in a body, to the number of seven, in full expectation of detecting the impostor; and were received with such gloomy formality, as seemed to have an effect upon the countenances of some among them; though they were encouraged by the vivacity of Pickle, who affected a double share of petulance, for the more effectual accomplishment of his purpose.
With that settled, they sent one of their group to Crabtree to arrange the time and terms of the operation, which he insisted on carrying out at his own place, where everything was set up for the occasion. At the agreed time, they all went there together, seven in total, fully expecting to catch the fraud. They were met with a somber formality that seemed to affect the expressions of some of them; however, they were lifted by Pickle's energy, who put on an extra display of annoyance to better achieve his goal.
Cadwallader made no reply to the interrogations they uttered, in the levity of their insolence, at the first entrance, but ordered Hadgi to conduct them through the next room, that they might see there was no previous apparatus to affright their deputy with objects foreign to his undertaking. They found nothing but a couple of wax tapers burning on a table that stood with a chair by it in the middle of the apartment, and returned to the audience-chamber, leaving Peregrine by himself, to encounter the phantom of that person whom they should, without his knowledge, desire the magician to conjure up to his view.
Cadwallader didn’t respond to their questions, spoken with an air of arrogance when they first arrived, but instructed Hadgi to take them into the next room to show that there was nothing there to scare their deputy with things that didn’t relate to his mission. They found only a couple of wax candles burning on a table in the middle of the room, with a chair next to it, and went back to the audience chamber, leaving Peregrine alone to face the ghost of the person they intended to have the magician summon without him knowing.
All the doors being shut and the company seated, a profound silence ensued, together with a face of dreadful expectation, encouraged by the blue flame of the candles, which were tipped with sulphur for that purpose, and heightened by the dismal sound of a large bell, which Hadgi tolled in the ante-chamber. Cadwallader having thus practised upon their ignorance and fear, desired them to name the person to be produced. After some whispers among themselves, one of them took the pen, and, writing the name of Commodore Trunnion upon a slip of paper, put it into the hands of the magician, who rose from his seat, and, opening the door of his closet, displayed to their view a skull, with thigh bones crossed, upon a table covered with black cloth.
With all the doors shut and everyone settled in, a heavy silence fell over the group, filled with a sense of terrible anticipation, heightened by the blue glow of the candles, which were tipped with sulfur for that reason, and intensified by the grim sound of a large bell that Hadgi rang in the anteroom. After manipulating their ignorance and fear, Cadwallader asked them to name the person to be revealed. Following some hushed discussions among themselves, one person picked up the pen, wrote the name Commodore Trunnion on a piece of paper, and handed it to the magician, who stood up, opened the door to his closet, and revealed a skull with crossed thigh bones on a table draped in black cloth.
This melancholy spectacle made a remarkable impression upon the imaginations of the company, already prepossessed by the previous ceremony; and they began to survey one another with looks of consternation, while Cadwallader, shutting himself in the closet, that was contiguous to the chamber in which his friend Peregrine was stationed, thrust the label with his uncle's name through a small chink in the partition according to agreement, muttering at the time a sort of gibberish, that increased the panic of his audience; then returning to his chair, the knell was tolled again, and Pickle called aloud, “D—n your mummery: why don't you despatch?”
This sad scene had a huge impact on everyone, who were already shocked by the earlier ceremony. They started looking at each other in panic, while Cadwallader locked himself in the closet next to the room where his friend Peregrine was. He slid the label with his uncle's name through a small crack in the wall as agreed, muttering something that only added to the audience’s fear. Then, returning to his seat, the bell was rung again, and Pickle shouted, “Damn your nonsense: why don’t you hurry up?”
This was a signal to Crabtree, who thus certified of his having received the paper, stood up and waved his wand in the figure of an S. The motion being thrice performed, their ears were all of a sudden invaded by a terrible noise in the next room, accompanied with the voice of Peregrine, who exclaimed, in a tone of horror and amazement, “Guard me, Heaven! my Uncle Trunnion!” This ejaculation had such an effect upon the hearers, that two of them swooned with fear, a third fell upon his knees and prayed aloud, while the other three, in a transport of dismay and distraction, burst open the door, and rushed into the haunted chamber, where they found the table and chair overturned, and Peregrine extended, in all appearance without sense or motion, upon the floor.
This was a signal to Crabtree, who confirmed he had received the paper, stood up, and waved his wand in the shape of an S. After doing this three times, their ears were suddenly filled with a horrible noise from the next room, along with Peregrine's voice, who shouted in a tone of horror and disbelief, “Oh my God! My Uncle Trunnion!” This exclamation had such an impact on those listening that two of them fainted from fear, a third dropped to his knees and prayed out loud, while the other three, in a panic of shock and confusion, burst through the door and ran into the haunted room, where they found the table and chair knocked over, and Peregrine lying on the floor, apparently unconscious.
They immediately began to chafe his temples, and the first symptom of his recovery which they perceived was a hollow groan; after which he pronounced these words: “Merciful powers! if I live I saw the commodore with his black patch, in the very clothes he wore at my sister's wedding.” This declaration completed their astonishment and terror; they observed a wildness in his looks, which he seemed to bend on something concealed from their view; and were infected by his appearance to such a pitch of superstition, that it would have been an easy matter to persuade them that the chair and table were apparitions of their forefathers. However, they conducted Peregrine into the council chamber, where the conjurer and Hadgi were employed in ministering to those who had fainted.
They quickly started rubbing his temples, and the first sign of his recovery they noticed was a deep groan; after that, he said, “Merciful powers! If I live, I saw the commodore with his black eye patch, in the same clothes he wore at my sister's wedding.” This statement shocked and terrified them even more; they saw a wild look in his eyes, which seemed focused on something hidden from their sight, and they were so influenced by his demeanor that it would have been easy to convince them that the chair and table were ghosts of their ancestors. Still, they took Peregrine into the council chamber, where the conjurer and Hadgi were busy helping those who had fainted.
The patients having retrieved the use of their faculties, Cadwallader, assuming a double portion of severity in his aspect, asked if they were not ashamed of their former incredulity; declaring, that he was ready to give them more convincing proofs of his art upon the spot, and would immediately recall three generations of their progenitors from the dead, if they were disposed to relish such company. Then turning to one of them, whose grandfather had been hanged, “Are you,” said he, “ambitious of seeing the first remarkable personage of your family? Say the word and he shall appear.”
The patients, having regained their senses, Cadwallader, looking more serious, asked if they weren't ashamed of their previous disbelief. He declared that he was ready to show them even more convincing evidence of his skills right there and would instantly bring back three generations of their ancestors from the dead if they were interested in that kind of company. Then turning to one of them, whose grandfather had been hanged, “Are you,” he asked, “eager to meet the first notable person in your family? Just say the word and he will appear.”
This youth, who had been the most insolent and obstreperous in the whole society, and was now depressed with the same proportion of fear, alarmed at the proposal, assured the magician he had no curiosity of that sort remaining; and that what he had already seen would, he hoped, have a good effect upon his future life and conversation. Every one of these heroes made an acknowledgment and profession of the same kind, some of which were attended with tears; and Hadgi having provided chairs for the whole company, they departed exceedingly crest-fallen. Two of the number actually sickened with the agitation they had undergone, while our hero and his associate made themselves merry with the success of their enterprise.
This young man, who had been the most rude and disruptive in the whole group, was now feeling just as scared and anxious about the proposal. He told the magician that he no longer had any curiosity about that kind of thing, and that what he had already experienced would hopefully lead to a better future for him in both his life and conversations. Each of these heroes expressed similar sentiments, some even shedding tears. After Hadgi set up chairs for everyone, they all left feeling pretty downcast. Two of them actually fell ill from the stress they had gone through, while our hero and his friend happily celebrated their success.
But this scheme of fortune-telling did not engross his whole attention; he still continued to maintain his appearance in the beau monde; and, as his expense far exceeded his income, strove to contract intimacies with people of interest and power; he showed himself regularly at court, paid his respects to them in all places of public diversion, and frequently entered into their parties, either of pleasure or cards. In the course of this cultivation, he happened one evening, at a certain chocolate-house, to overlook a match of piquet, in which he perceived a couple of sharpers making a prey of a young nobleman, who had neither temper nor skill sufficient to cope with such antagonists.
But this plan for fortune-telling didn’t take up all his time; he still made an effort to keep his status in high society. Since his spending was much higher than his income, he tried to build relationships with influential and powerful people. He regularly appeared at court, paid his respects at various public events, and often joined their gatherings, whether for fun or card games. During this socializing, one evening at a certain chocolate house, he happened to view a game of piquet, where he saw a couple of con artists taking advantage of a young nobleman who lacked the patience and skill to deal with such opponents.
Our hero, being a professed enemy to all knights of industry, could not bear to see them cheat in public with such insolent audacity. Under pretence of communicating some business of importance, he begged the favour of speaking to the young gentleman in another corner of the room, and in a friendly manner cautioned him against his opponents. This hot-headed representative, far from thinking or owning himself obliged to Pickle for his good counsel, looked upon his advice as an insult upon his understanding; and replied, with an air of ferocious displeasure, that he knew how to take care of his own concerns, and would not suffer either him or them to bubble him out of a shilling.
Our hero, openly opposed to all corporate knights, couldn’t stand to watch them cheat in public with such bold arrogance. Under the guise of discussing something important, he asked to speak to the young man in a different corner of the room and kindly warned him about his rivals. This hot-headed representative, far from feeling grateful to Pickle for his advice, viewed it as an insult to his intelligence and responded, with fierce annoyance, that he knew how to handle his own affairs and wouldn’t let either him or them trick him out of a penny.
Peregrine, offended at the association, as well as at the ingratitude and folly of this conceited coxcomb, expressed his resentment, by telling him, that he expected at least an acknowledgment for his candid intention; but he found his intellects too much warped by his vanity to perceive his own want of capacity and experience. Inflamed by this reproof, the young nobleman challenged him to play for five hundred pounds, with many opprobrious, or at least contemptuous terms of defiance, which provoked our hero to accept the proposal. After the other had disengaged himself from the old rooks, who were extremely mortified at the interruption, the two young champions sat down, and fortune acting with uncommon impartiality, Pickle, by the superiority of his talents, in two hours won to the amount of as many thousand pounds, for which he was obliged to take his antagonist's note, the sharpers having previously secured his ready money.
Peregrine, offended by the association and the ingratitude and foolishness of this arrogant jerk, expressed his frustration by telling him that he expected at least an acknowledgment for his honest intentions. However, he realized that the young man’s vanity blinded him to his own lack of skill and experience. Angered by this criticism, the young nobleman challenged him to a match for five hundred pounds, using many insulting or at least scornful words to provoke a response, which pushed our hero to accept the challenge. Once the other had freed himself from the old players, who were clearly annoyed by the interruption, the two young contenders sat down to play. Luck played fairly, and Pickle, using his superior skills, won the amount of two thousand pounds in just two hours. He had to take his opponent's note because the hustlers had already secured his cash.
Frantic with his loss, the rash young man would have continued the game, and doubled stakes every time; so that Peregrine might have increased his acquisition to ten times the sum he had gained; but he thought he had already sufficiently chastised the presumption of the challenger, and was unwilling to empower fortune to ravish from him the fruits of his success; he therefore declined my lord's proposal, unless he would play for ready money; and his lordship having in vain tried his credit among the company, our adventurer withdrew, leaving him in an ecstasy of rage and disappointment.
Frantic over his loss, the impulsive young man wanted to keep playing and raise the stakes every time, which could have led Peregrine to multiply his winnings by ten. However, he felt he had already taught the challenger a lesson and didn’t want to give fate a chance to take away the rewards of his success. So, he turned down my lord's offer unless he was willing to play for cash. After my lord unsuccessfully tried to borrow money from the others, our adventurer left, leaving him in a fit of anger and disappointment.
As the insolence of his behaviour had increased with his ill-luck, and he had given vent to divers expressions which Peregrine took amiss, our young gentleman resolved to augment his punishment, by teasing him with demands which could not, he knew, be immediately satisfied; and next day sent Pipes to his father's house with the note, which was drawn payable upon demand. The debtor, who had gone to bed half-distracted with his misfortune, finding himself waked with such a disagreeable dun, lost all patience, cursed Pickle, threatened his messenger, blasphemed with horrible execrations, and made such a noise as reached the ears of his father, who, ordering his son to be called into his presence, examined him about the cause of that uproar, which had disturbed the whole family. The young gentleman, after having essayed to amuse him with sundry equivocations, which served only to increase his suspicion and desire of knowing the truth, acknowledged that he had lost some money overnight at cards, to a gamester who had been so impertinent as to send a message, demanding it that morning, though he had told the fellow that it would not suit him to pay him immediately. The father, who was a man of honour, reproached him with great severity for his profligate behaviour in general, and this scandalous debt in particular, which he believed to be some trifle; then giving him a bank-note for five hundred pounds, commanded him to go and discharge it without loss of time. This well-principled heir took the money; but, instead of waiting upon his creditor, he forthwith repaired to the gaming-house, in hopes of retrieving his loss; and, before he rose from the table, saw his note mortgaged for seven-eighths of its value.
As the arrogance of his behavior grew with his bad luck, and he made several comments that Peregrine found offensive, our young gentleman decided to increase his punishment by annoying him with demands that he knew couldn't be immediately met. The next day, he sent Pipes to his father's house with a note that was due upon demand. The debtor, who had gone to bed feeling half-crazy from his misfortune, was woken up by such an unpleasant demand and lost all patience. He cursed Pickle, threatened the messenger, swore with horrible expletives, and made such a racket that his father heard him. The father, calling for his son to come to him, asked about the cause of the uproar that had disturbed the whole family. The young gentleman, after trying to distract him with various evasions, which only made his father more suspicious and eager to know the truth, admitted that he had lost some money at cards the night before to a gambler who had the nerve to send a message demanding payment that morning, even though he had told the guy that he couldn't pay him right away. The father, who was a man of honor, scolded him harshly for his reckless behavior in general and this scandalous debt in particular, which he thought was just a trivial amount. Then, giving him a banknote for five hundred pounds, he ordered him to go and settle it without delay. This properly raised heir took the money but, instead of going to his creditor, immediately went to the gaming house, hoping to recover his losses, and before he left the table, saw his note mortgaged for seven-eighths of its value.
Meanwhile, Pickle, incensed at the treatment which his servant had received, and informed of his lordship's second loss, which aggravated his resentment, determined to preserve no medium; and, taking out a writ the same day, put it immediately in execution upon the body of his debtor, just as he stepped into his chair at the door of White's chocolate-house. The prisoner, being naturally fierce and haughty, attempted to draw upon the bailiffs, who disarmed him in a twinkling; and this effort served only to heighten his disgrace; which was witnessed by a thousand people, most of whom laughed very heartily at the adventure of a lord's being arrested.
Meanwhile, Pickle, furious about the way his servant was treated and hearing about his lordship's second loss, which only made him angrier, decided to take action. That same day, he filed a writ and quickly enforced it against his debtor, right as he stepped into his carriage outside White's chocolate-house. The prisoner, being naturally fierce and proud, tried to attack the bailiffs, but they disarmed him in an instant. This attempt only added to his humiliation, witnessed by a crowd of about a thousand people, most of whom laughed loudly at the situation of a lord being arrested.
Such a public transaction could not long escape the knowledge of his father, who that very day had the satisfaction to hear that his son was in a spunging-house. In consequence of this information, he sent his steward to learn the particulars of the arrest, and was equally offended, surprised, and concerned, when he understood the nature of the debt, which he imagined his son had already discharged. Unwilling to pay such a considerable sum for a spendthrift, whom he had but too much indulged, and who in less than one week might involve himself in such another difficulty, the old gentleman wrote a letter to Peregrine, representing what a hardship it would be upon him to forfeit such sums by the indiscretion of a son, whose engagements he was not bound to fulfil, and desiring some mitigation in his demand, as it was not a debt contracted for value received, but incurred without subjecting him to the least damage or inconvenience.
Such a public incident couldn't stay hidden from his father for long. That very day, he was dismayed to find out his son was in a debtor's prison. Because of this news, he sent his steward to find out the details of the arrest, and he was equally angry, shocked, and worried when he learned about the type of debt, which he thought his son had already paid off. Not wanting to pay such a large amount for a reckless son he had spoiled too much, who could get himself into another mess in less than a week, the old man wrote a letter to Peregrine, explaining how unfair it would be for him to lose such sums due to the foolishness of a son whose debts he wasn't obligated to cover. He requested some leniency on the amount owed, arguing that it wasn't a debt incurred for any value received, but rather one created without causing him any actual loss or trouble.
Our adventurer no sooner received this letter, than he went in person to wait upon the author, to whom he, in a candid manner, related the particular circumstances of the match, together with the ingratitude and audacity of his son, which he owned had stimulated him to such measures as he otherwise would have scorned to take. The nobleman acknowledged that the revenge was hardly adequate to the provocation, and condemned the conduct of his son with such justice and integrity, as disarmed Peregrine of his resentment, and disposed him to give an undoubted proof of his own disinterestedness, which he immediately exhibited, by producing the note, and tearing it to pieces, after having assured his lordship that the writ should be withdrawn, and the prisoner discharged before night.
Our adventurer barely received this letter when he personally went to meet the writer, to whom he candidly shared the details of the situation, including his son's ingratitude and boldness, which he admitted had pushed him to take actions he would normally have refused. The nobleman recognized that the revenge was hardly fitting for the offense and criticized his son's behavior with such fairness and honesty that it disarmed Peregrine's anger and encouraged him to show his own selflessness. He immediately proved this by pulling out the note and tearing it to shreds, after assuring his lordship that the writ would be withdrawn and the prisoner released by night.
The earl, who perfectly well understood the value of money, and was no stranger to the characters of mankind, stood amazed at the sacrifice, which Pickle protested was offered by his esteem for his lordship; and, after having complimented him upon his generosity, in a very uncommon strain of encomium, begged the favour of his acquaintance, and insisted upon his dining with him next day. The youth, proud of having met with such an opportunity to distinguish himself, in less than an hour performed every article of his promise; and in the morning was visited by the debtor, who came, by the express order of his father, to thank him for the obligation under which he was laid, and to ask pardon for the offence he had given.
The earl, who clearly understood the value of money and was no stranger to human nature, was amazed by the sacrifice that Pickle claimed was a gesture of his respect for his lordship. After complimenting him on his generosity in an unusually flattering manner, he requested to befriend him and insisted that Pickle join him for dinner the next day. The young man, proud to have such an opportunity to stand out, fulfilled each part of his commitment in less than an hour; and in the morning, he was visited by the debtor, who came, on his father's explicit instructions, to thank him for the favor and to apologize for the offense he had caused.
This condescension was very glorious for our hero, who graciously received his submission, and accompanied him to dinner, where he was caressed by the old earl with marks of particular affection and esteem. Nor was his gratitude confined to exterior civility; he offered him the use of his interest at court, which was very powerful, and repeated his desire of serving him so pressingly, that Peregrine thought he could not dispense with the opportunity of assisting his absent friend Godfrey, in whose behalf he begged the influence of his lordship.
This condescension was very impressive for our hero, who graciously accepted his submission and took him to dinner, where the old earl showed him particular affection and respect. His gratitude wasn’t just superficial; he offered the use of his significant influence at court and insisted on wanting to help so earnestly that Peregrine felt he couldn’t pass up the chance to assist his absent friend Godfrey, for whom he requested the earl's support.
The earl, pleased with this request, which was another proof of the young gentleman's benevolence, said, he would not fail to pay the utmost regard to his recommendation; and in six weeks a captain's commission was actually signed for the brother of Emilia, who was very agreeably surprised at the intimation he received from the War Office, though he was utterly ignorant of the canal through which he obtained that promotion.
The earl, happy with this request, which showed the young man's kindness, said he would definitely consider his recommendation; and in six weeks, a captain's commission was officially signed for Emilia's brother, who was very pleasantly surprised by the news he received from the War Office, even though he had no idea how he got that promotion.
CHAPTER LXXXV.
Peregrine is celebrated as a Wit and Patron, and proceeds to entertain himself at the Expense of whom it did concern.
Peregrine is known as a clever person and a supporter, and goes on to have fun at the cost of those it affected.
In the meantime, Peregrine flourished in the gay scenes of life, and, as I have already observed, had divers opportunities of profiting in the way of marriage, had not his ambition been a little too inordinate, and his heart still biased by a passion, which all the levity of youth could not balance, nor all the pride of vanity overcome. Nor was our hero unmarked in the world of letters and taste; he had signalized himself in several poetical productions, by which he had acquired a good share of reputation: not that the pieces were such as ought to have done much honour to his genius; but any tolerable performance from a person of his figure and supposed fortune, will always be considered by the bulk of readers as an instance of astonishing capacity; though the very same production, ushered into the world with the name of an author in less affluent circumstances would be justly disregarded and despised; so much is the opinion of most people influenced and overawed by ridiculous considerations.
In the meantime, Peregrine thrived in the lively social scenes, and, as I’ve mentioned before, he had many chances to benefit from marriage, if only his ambitions hadn’t been a bit too excessive, and his heart still swayed by a passion that none of the youthful carefree attitude could balance, nor all the vanity could overcome. Our hero also made a mark in the literary and artistic world; he distinguished himself with several poetic works, which earned him a decent amount of recognition: not that these pieces truly honored his talent, but any decent work from someone of his stature and supposed wealth is often seen by most readers as a remarkable achievement; conversely, the same piece, if it came from someone in less fortunate circumstances, would be justly ignored and looked down upon; such is how the opinions of many are swayed and intimidated by absurd considerations.
Be this as it will, our young gentleman was no sooner distinguished as an author, than he was marked out as a patron by all the starving retainers to poetry; he was solemnised in odes, celebrated in epigrams, and fed with the milk of soft dedication. His vanity even relished this incense; and, though his reason could not help despising those that offered it, not one of them was sent away unowned by his munificence. He began to think himself, in good earnest, that superior genius which their flattery had described; he cultivated acquaintance with the wits of fashion, and even composed in secret a number of bon-mots, which he uttered in company as the impromptus of his imagination. In this practice, indeed, he imitated some of the most renowned geniuses of the age, who, if the truth were known, have laboured in secret, with the sweat of their brows, for many a repartee which they have vended as the immediate production of fancy and expression. He was so successful in this exercise of his talents, that his fame actually came in competition with that great man who had long sat at the helm of wit; and, in a dialogue that once happened between them, on the subject of a corkscrew, wherein the altercation was discharged, according to Bayes, slap for slap, dash for dash, our hero was judged to have the better of his lordship, by some of the minor satellites, that commonly surround and reflect the rays of such mighty luminaries.
Be that as it may, our young gentleman was quickly recognized as an author and soon became a target for all the struggling poets; he was honored in odes, celebrated in witty remarks, and showered with praise. His vanity enjoyed this flattery; and although his reasoning despised those who offered it, he graciously acknowledged every single one of them. He began to genuinely believe he was the exceptional genius their flattery described; he mingled with the fashionable intellectuals and secretly crafted a number of clever remarks, which he presented in social settings as spontaneous genius. In this endeavor, he indeed emulated some of the most famous talents of his time, who, if the truth were revealed, have toiled away in private, sweating to prepare witty comebacks that they later claimed were purely spontaneous creations. He was so good at showcasing his skills that his reputation began to rival that of the great man who had long been recognized as the leading wit; and in a conversation that once took place between them about a corkscrew, where the back-and-forth was, as Bayes would say, punch for punch and point for point, our hero was considered to have outshone his lordship by some of the smaller followers who typically gravitate around and reflect the brilliance of such prominent figures.
In a word, he dipped himself so far in these literary amusements, that he took the management of the pit into his direction, putting himself at the head of those critics who call themselves the town; and in that capacity chastised several players, who had been rendered insolent and refractory by unmerited success. As for the new productions of the stage, though generally unspirited and insipid, they always enjoyed the benefit of his influence and protection; because he never disliked the performance so much as he sympathized with the poor author, who stood behind the scenes in the most dreadful suspense, trembling, as it were, on the very brink of damnation. Yet, though he extended his generosity and compassion to the humble and needy, he never let slip one opportunity of mortifying villainy and arrogance. Had the executive power of the legislature been vested in him, he would have doubtless devised strange species of punishment for all offenders against humanity and decorum; but, restricted as he was, he employed his invention in subjecting them to the ridicule and contempt of their fellow-subjects.
In short, he got so wrapped up in these literary pastimes that he took charge of the audience, putting himself at the forefront of those critics who called themselves the town; in that role, he reprimanded several actors who had become arrogant and difficult due to unwarranted success. As for the new stage productions, even though they were generally lackluster and dull, they always benefited from his influence and support, because he never disliked the performance as much as he felt for the poor author, who waited backstage in terrible suspense, trembling on the edge of failure. Yet, while he showed generosity and compassion towards the humble and needy, he never missed a chance to call out villainy and arrogance. If he had the power of the legislature, he surely would have come up with unique punishments for all who wronged humanity and propriety; but, being limited, he channeled his creativity into subjecting them to the mockery and disdain of their peers.
It was with this view he set on foot the scheme of conjuration, which was still happily carried on, and made use of the intelligence of his friend Cadwallader; though he sometimes converted this advantage to the purposes of gallantry, being, as the reader may have perceived, of a very amorous complexion. He not only acted the reformer, or rather the castigator, in the fashionable world, but also exercised his talents among the inferior class of people, who chanced to incur his displeasure. One mischievous plan that entered our hero's imagination was suggested by two advertisements published in the same paper, by persons who wanted to borrow certain sums of money, for which they promised to give undeniable security. Peregrine, from the style and manner of both, concluded they were written by attorneys, a species of people for whom he entertained his uncle's aversion. In order to amuse himself and some of his friends with their disappointment, he wrote a letter signed A. B. to each advertiser, according to the address specified in the newspaper, importing, that if he would come with his writings to a certain coffee-house near the Temple, precisely at six in the evening, he would find a person sitting in the right-hand box next to the window, who would be glad to treat with him about the subject of his advertisement; and, should his security be liked, would accommodate him with the sum which he wanted to raise. Before the hour of this double appointment, Pickle, with his friend Cadwallader, and a few more gentlemen, to whom he had thought proper to communicate the plan, went to the coffee-house, and seated themselves near the place that was destined for their meeting.
With this in mind, he started his scheme for trickery, which continued in a surprisingly successful manner, using the help of his friend Cadwallader; although he sometimes turned this advantage into a means of flirting, being, as the reader may have noticed, quite the romantic type. He not only acted as a reformer, or rather a critic, in fashionable society, but also put his skills to use among the lower classes, especially those who had fallen out of his favor. One mischievous idea that popped into our hero's head was prompted by two ads in the same newspaper, from people looking to borrow specific amounts of money, promising undeniable security. Peregrine, from the style and tone of both ads, guessed they were written by lawyers, a group of people his uncle particularly disliked. To amuse himself and some friends with the advertisers' disappointment, he wrote a letter signed A. B. to each one, following the addresses given in the paper, stating that if they came with their documents to a certain coffee house near the Temple at exactly six in the evening, they would find someone sitting in the right-hand box by the window who would be happy to negotiate regarding their ads; and if their security was satisfactory, he would provide the amount they wished to borrow. Before the time of this arranged meeting, Pickle, along with his friend Cadwallader and a few more gentlemen he thought suitable to share the plan with, went to the coffee house and took their seats near the spot they had designated for the meeting.
The hope of getting money had such an evident effect upon their punctuality, that one of them arrived a considerable time before the hour; and having reconnoitred the room, took his station according to the direction he had received, fixing his eye upon a dock that stood before him, and asking of the barkeeper, if it was not too slow. He, had not remained in this posture many minutes, when he was joined by a strange figure that waddled into the room, with a bundle of papers in his bosom, and the sweat running over his nose. Seeing a man in the box to which he had been directed, he took it for granted that he was the lender; and as soon as he could recover his breath, which was almost exhausted by the despatch he had made, “Sir,” said he, “I presume you are the gentleman I was to meet about that loan.” Here he was interrupted by the other, who eagerly replied, “A. B., sir, I suppose.” “The same,” cried the last-comer: “I was afraid I should be too late; for I was detained beyond my expectation by a nobleman at the other end of the town, that wants to mortgage a small trifle of his estate, about a thousand a year; and my watch happens to be in the hands of the maker, having met with an accident a few nights ago, which set it asleep. But, howsomever, there is no time lost, and I hope this affair will be transacted to the satisfaction of us both. For my own part, I love to do good offices myself, and therefore I expect nothing but what is fair and honest of other people.”
The expectation of getting money had such a noticeable effect on their punctuality that one of them showed up well ahead of the scheduled time. After surveying the room, he took his place as directed, focusing on a clock in front of him and asking the barkeeper if it was running too slow. He hadn’t been in this position for long when a peculiar figure waddled into the room, carrying a bundle of papers and sweating profusely. Seeing someone in the booth he had been directed to, he assumed it was the lender. As soon as he caught his breath, which had nearly given out from his rush, he said, “Sir, I assume you’re the gentleman I was supposed to meet about that loan.” Before he could finish, the other person eagerly interjected, “A. B., I presume?” “That’s right,” the newcomer replied. “I was worried I’d be late because I got held up longer than I expected with a nobleman on the other side of town who wants to mortgage a small part of his estate, about a thousand a year. Plus, my watch is with the repairman right now after getting damaged a few nights ago, which caused it to stop working. But anyway, no time is lost, and I hope we can get this sorted to both our satisfaction. Personally, I like to help others, so I expect nothing less than fairness and honesty in return.”
His new friend was exceedingly comforted by this declaration, which he considered as a happy omen of his success; and the hope of fingering the cash operated visibly in his countenance, while he expressed his satisfaction at meeting with a person of such candour and humanity. “The pleasure,” said he, “of dealing with an easy conscientious man is, in my opinion, superior to that of touching all the money upon earth; for what joy can be compared with what a generous mind feels in befriending its fellow-creatures? I was never so happy in my life, as at one time, in lending five hundred pounds to a worthy gentleman in distress, without insisting upon rigid security. Sir, one may easily distinguish an upright man by his countenance: for example now, I think I could take your word for ten thousand pounds.” The other, with great joy, protested, that he was right in his conjecture, and returned the compliment a thousand-fold; by which means, the expectation of both was wound up to a very interesting pitch; and both, at the same instant, began to produce their papers, in the untying of which their hands shook with transports of eagerness and impatience; while their eyes were so intent upon their work, that they did not perceive the occupation of each other.
His new friend was really comforted by this declaration, seeing it as a good sign for his success; the thought of handling the cash was clearly visible on his face as he expressed his happiness in meeting someone so honest and kind. “In my opinion,” he said, “the joy of dealing with an easygoing, conscientious person is greater than touching all the money in the world; what joy can compare to what a generous person feels when helping others? I’ve never been as happy in my life as I was once when I lent five hundred pounds to a deserving gentleman in need, without demanding strict security. You can easily recognize an honest man by his face: for instance, I think I could trust your word for ten thousand pounds.” The other, filled with joy, insisted that he was correct in his assumption and returned the compliment many times over; thus, the hopes of both were raised to a very exciting level. At the same moment, they both began to pull out their papers, their hands trembling with eagerness and impatience as their eyes were so focused on their work that they didn’t notice what the other was doing.
At length, one of them, having got the start of the other, and unrolled several skins of musty parchment, directed his view to the employment of his friend; and, seeing him fumbling at his bundle, asked if that was a blank bond and conveyance which he had brought along with him. The other, without lifting up his eyes, or desisting from his endeavours to loose the knot, which by this time he had applied to his teeth, answered this question in the negative, observing that the papers in his hand were the security which he proposed to give for the money. This reply converted the looks of the inquirer into a stare of infinite solidity, accompanied with the word Anan! which he pronounced in a tone of fear and astonishment. The other, alarmed at this note, cast his eyes towards the supposed lender, and was in a moment infected by his aspect. All the exultation of hope that sparkled in their eyes was now succeeded by disappointment and dismay; and while they gazed ruefully at each other, their features were gradually elongated, like the transient curls of a Middle-row periwig.
Finally, one of them, having gotten a head start on the other, unrolled several old, musty parchment skins and looked over at his friend's task. Noticing him struggling with his bundle, he asked if that was a blank bond and conveyance he had brought with him. Without looking up or stopping his efforts to untie the knot—by now he was trying to loosen it with his teeth—his friend replied no, explaining that the papers he had in hand were the security he intended to provide for the money. This answer turned the inquirer's expression into one of complete disbelief, accompanied by the word "Huh?" which he said in a voice filled with fear and shock. The other, startled by this reaction, turned his gaze toward the supposed lender and was immediately affected by his expression. All the excitement and hope that had sparkled in their eyes was now replaced by disappointment and dismay; as they looked at each other ruefully, their features slowly lengthened, like the fleeting curls of an old-fashioned wig.
This emphatic silence was, however, broken by the last-comer, who, in a faltering accent, desired the other to recollect the contents of his letter. “Of your letter!” cried the first, putting into his hand the advertisement he had received from Pickle; which he had no sooner perused, than he produced his own for the satisfaction of the other party. So that another gloomy pause ensued, at the end of which, each uttered a profound sigh, or rather groan, and, rising up, sneaked off without further communication, he who seemed to be the most afflicted of the two, taking his departure, with an exclamation of “Humbugged, egad!”
This heavy silence was finally broken by the newcomer, who, with a shaky voice, asked the other to remember what was in his letter. “Your letter!” shouted the first person, handing him the ad he had received from Pickle. As soon as he read it, he pulled out his own letter to show the other guy. This led to another gloomy pause, and at the end, both let out a deep sigh, or maybe a groan, and got up to leave without saying anything else. The one who seemed the most upset said as he left, “What a joke!”
Such were the amusements of our hero, though they did not engross his whole time, some part of which was dedicated to nocturnal riots and revels, among a set of young noblemen, who had denounced war against temperance, economy, and common sense, and were indeed the devoted sons of tumult, waste, and prodigality. Not that Peregrine relished those scenes, which were a succession of absurd extravagance, devoid of all true spirit, taste, or enjoyment. But his vanity prompted him to mingle with those who are entitled the choice spirits of the age; and his disposition was so pliable, as to adapt itself easily to the measures of his company, where he had not influence enough to act in the capacity of a director. Their rendezvous was a certain tavern, which might be properly styled the temple of excess, where they left the choice of their fare to the discretion of the landlord, that they might save themselves the pains of exercising their own reason; and, in order to avoid the trouble of adjusting the bill, ordered the waiter to declare how much every individual must pay, without specifying the articles of the charge. This proportion generally amounted to two guineas per head for each dinner and supper; and frequently exceeded that sum; of which the landlord durst not abate, without running the risk of having his nose slit for his moderation.
Such were the pastimes of our hero, although they didn’t take up all his time. He also spent some of it on wild nights and parties with a group of young nobles who had declared war on moderation, frugality, and common sense. They were truly the devoted followers of chaos, waste, and extravagance. Not that Peregrine enjoyed those scenes, which were a series of ridiculous excesses, lacking any real spirit, taste, or enjoyment. But his vanity encouraged him to hang out with those considered the elite of the era, and he was flexible enough to go along with the ways of his company, where he didn’t have enough influence to take charge. Their meeting place was a particular tavern, which could be accurately called the temple of excess, where they left the choice of their food up to the landlord’s discretion to avoid the effort of using their own judgment. To avoid the hassle of settling the bill, they instructed the waiter to simply state how much each person had to pay without detailing what was included in the charge. This usually added up to two guineas per person for each dinner and supper, often exceeding that amount, and the landlord didn't dare lower it without risking his reputation for fairness.
But this was puny expense compared with that which they often incurred, by the damage done to the furniture and servants, in the madness of their intoxication, as well as the loss they sustained at hazard, an amusement to which all of them had recourse in the progress of their debauches. This elegant diversion was introduced, encouraged, and promoted by a crew of rapacious sharpers, who had made themselves necessary companions to this hopeful generation, by the talents of pimping and buffoonery. Though they were universally known, even by those they preyed upon to have no other means of earning their livelihood, than the most infamous and fraudulent practices, they were caressed and courted by these infatuated dupes, when a man of honour, who would not join in their excesses, would have been treated with the utmost indignity and contempt.
But this was a small expense compared to what they often faced from the damage done to the furniture and servants during their drunken madness, as well as the losses they incurred from gambling, a pastime they all turned to during their wild nights. This fancy distraction was introduced, encouraged, and promoted by a group of greedy con artists, who had made themselves essential companions to this misguided generation through their skills in manipulation and humor. Even though everyone knew, including those they exploited, that these individuals had no other way to make a living than through the most disreputable and deceitful practices, they were still adored and sought after by these deluded victims, while a man of honor, who would refuse to take part in their excesses, would be treated with the utmost disrespect and scorn.
Though Peregrine, in his heart, detested those abandoned courses, and was a professed enemy to the whole society of gamesters, whom he considered, and always treated, as the foes of humankind, he was insensibly accustomed to licentious riot, and even led imperceptibly into play by those cormorants, who are no less dangerous in the art of cheating, than by their consummate skill in working up the passions of unwary youth. They are, for the most part, naturally cool, phlegmatic, and crafty, and, by a long habit of dissimulation, have gained an absolute dominion over the hasty passions of the heart; so that they engage with manifest advantage over the impatience and impetuosity of a warm undesigning temper, like that of our young gentleman, who, when he was heated with wine, misled by example, invited on one hand, and defied on the other, forgot all his maxims of caution and sobriety, and, plunging into the reigning folly of the place, had frequent occasions to moralize in the morning upon the loss of the preceding night. These penitential reflections were attended with many laudable resolutions of profiting by the experience which he had so dearly purchased; but he was one of those philosophers who always put off till another day the commencement of their reformation.
Though Peregrine secretly hated those abandoned lifestyles and openly opposed the whole gaming community, which he saw as the enemies of humanity, he gradually became used to the wild behavior and was even subtly drawn into gambling by those sharks, who are just as dangerous in cheating as they are skilled at manipulating the emotions of unsuspecting youth. They are mostly naturally calm, unemotional, and clever, and through long practice of deception, they have gained complete control over the quick emotions of the heart. This gives them a clear advantage over the impatience and impulsiveness of a warm-hearted, naive guy like our young gentleman, who, when fueled by alcohol, influenced by others, and feeling challenged, forgot all his rules of caution and sobriety. He dove headfirst into the popular folly of the moment and often found himself reflecting in the morning about the losses from the night before. These regretful thoughts came with many well-intentioned vows to learn from the pricey lessons he had just endured, but he was one of those philosophers who always postponed the start of their transformation until another day.
CHAPTER LXXXVI.
Peregrine receives a letter from Hatchway, in consequence of which he repairs to the Garrison, and performs the last Offices to his Aunt—He is visited by Mr. Gauntlet, who invites him to his Marriage.
Peregrine gets a letter from Hatchway, which prompts him to go to the Garrison and take care of his Aunt's final arrangements. He is visited by Mr. Gauntlet, who invites him to his wedding.
In this circle of amusements our hero's time was parcelled out, and few young gentlemen of the age enjoyed life with greater relish, notwithstanding those intervening checks of reason, which served only to whet his appetite for a repetition of the pleasures she so prudently condemned; when he received the following letter, by which he was determined to visit his estate in the country:
In this circle of entertainment, our hero's time was divided, and few young men of his age enjoyed life with more enthusiasm, despite the occasional moments of reflection that only made him crave the pleasures she wisely disapproved of even more; when he received the following letter, which inspired him to visit his estate in the countryside:
Cousin Pickle,—I hope you are in a better trim than your
aunt, who hath been fast moored to her bed these seven weeks,
by several feet of under-water lodging in her hold and
hollop, whereby I doubt her planks are rotted, so that she
cannot choose but fall to pieces in a short time. I have
done all in my power to keep her tight and easy, and free
from sudden squalls that might overstrain her. And here
have been the doctors, who have scuttled her lower deck, and
let out six gallons of water. For my own part, I wonder how
the devil it came there; for you know as how it was a liquor
she never took in. But as for those fellows the doctors, they
are like unskilful carpenters, that in mending one leak make
a couple; and so she fills again apace. But the worst sign of
all is this here, she won't let a drop of Nantz go between
the combings of her teeth, and has quite lost the rudder of
her understanding, whereby she yaws woundily in her speech
palavering about some foreign part called the New Geereusalem,
and wishing herself in a safe berth in the river Geordun.
The parson, I must say, strives to keep her steady, concerning
the navigation of her soul, and talks very sensibly of charity
and the poor, whereof she hath left a legacy of two hundred
pounds in her will. And here has been Mr. Gamaliel and your
brother my lord, demanding entrance at the gate, in order to
see her; but I would not suffer them to come aboard, and
pointed my patereroes, which made them sheer off. Your sister,
Mrs. Clover, keeps close watch upon her kinswoman, without
ever turning in, and a kind-hearted young woman it is. I
should be glad to see you at the garrison, if the wind of your
inclination sits that way; and mayhap it may be a comfort to
your aunt, to behold you alongside of her, when her anchor is
apeak. So no more at present, but rests your friend and humble
servant to command, “John Hatchway.”
Cousin Pickle,—I hope you're doing better than your aunt, who's been stuck in bed for seven weeks due to several feet of waterlogged issues. I'm worried her boards are rotting, and she's bound to fall apart soon. I've done everything I can to keep her comfortable and safe from sudden storms that might overwhelm her. The doctors have been here and drained six gallons of water from her lower deck. Honestly, I'm puzzled about how it got there since she never drinks. But those doctors are like clumsy carpenters who fix one leak and create two more, so she's filling up again quickly. The worst part is that she won’t let a drop of Nantz go between her teeth anymore and seems to have lost her grasp on reality, rambling about some place called the New Geereusalem and wishing she were safely anchored in the river Geordun. I have to say, the parson is trying to keep her steady regarding her spiritual navigation, talking sensibly about charity and the poor, from whom she has left a legacy of two hundred pounds in her will. Mr. Gamaliel and your brother my lord have tried to visit her, but I wouldn't let them on board and pointed my cannons at them to make them back off. Your sister, Mrs. Clover, is keeping a close watch on her cousin without even getting any sleep, and she’s a kind-hearted young woman. I’d be happy to see you at the garrison if you're inclined to come this way, and it might bring your aunt some comfort to see you beside her while she’s in this precarious situation. So until next time, I remain your friend and humble servant, “John Hatchway.”
Next morning, after the receipt of this epistle, Peregrine, in order to manifest his regard to his aunt, as well as his friendship for honest Jack, set out on horseback for their habitation, attended by Pipes, who longed to see his old messmate; but before he had reached the garrison, Mrs. Hatchway had given up the ghost, in the threescore and fifth year of her age. The widower seemed to bear his loss with resignation, and behaved very decently upon the occasion, though he did not undergo those dangerous transports of sorrow, which some tender-hearted husbands have felt at the departure of their wives. The lieutenant was naturally a philosopher, and so well disposed to acquiesce in the dispensations of Providence, that in this, as well as in every other emergency of his life, he firmly believed, that everything which happened was for the best.
The next morning, after receiving this letter, Peregrine decided to show his affection for his aunt and his friendship for good old Jack by heading out on horseback to their home, accompanied by Pipes, who was eager to see his old comrade. However, before he could reach the garrison, Mrs. Hatchway had passed away at the age of sixty-five. The widower seemed to handle his loss with acceptance and acted quite properly during the situation, even though he didn’t experience the extreme sadness that some sensitive husbands feel when their wives are gone. The lieutenant was naturally philosophical and had such a strong tendency to accept the will of Providence that, in this instance, as in every other crisis of his life, he firmly believed that everything that happened was for the best.
Peregrine's task, therefore, was not so great in comforting him, as in consoling his own sister, who, with great poignancy and sincerity of grief, lamented the death of the only relation with whom she had maintained any intimacy of correspondence; for her mother was as implacable as ever, in her enmity against her and Peregrine, and rather more determined in her rancour; that which was originally a sudden transport of indignation, being by this time settled into a confirmed inveteracy of hate. As for Gam, who was now dignified by the country people with the appellation of the young squire, he still acted in the capacity of minister to the caprice and vengeance of his mother, taking all opportunities of disturbing Julia's peace, slandering her reputation, and committing outrages against the tenants and domestics of her husband, who was a man of quiet and timorous disposition.
Peregrine's task, then, wasn’t just about comforting him, but also about supporting his sister, who, with deep emotion and genuine sadness, mourned the loss of the only relative she had kept in touch with. Her mother remained as unyielding as ever in her animosity toward both her and Peregrine, and seemed even more determined in her bitterness; what had started as a moment of anger had now turned into a deep-seated hatred. As for Gam, now referred to by the locals as the young squire, he continued to serve his mother's whims and vengeance, seizing every chance to disrupt Julia's life, tarnish her reputation, and commit acts of aggression against her husband’s tenants and staff, who was a quiet and timid man.
But the chief amusement of young Pickle, in his later years, was the chase, in which he acquired some renown by his intrepidity and remarkable figure, which improved every day in deformity; insomuch, as to suggest a ludicrous scheme of revenge to a gentleman in the neighbourhood. Having been affronted by the insolence of Crookback, he clothed a large baboon that was in his possession, in a dress that resembled the hunting equipage of Gam; and ordering the animal to be set astride, and tied upon the back of his keenest hunter, turned them out one day after the hounds. The horse in a little time outstripping all the rest in the field, the rider was mistaken for Gam by the whole company, who saluted him as he passed with a halloo, observing, that the squire had his usual good luck, in being better mounted than his neighbours. Pickle afterwards appearing in his own person, created great astonishment in the spectators, one of whom asked if he had split himself in twain, and pointed out his representative, who was, by this time, almost up with the hounds. Upon which the identical Gam went in pursuit of the impostor. When he overtook him, he was so much enraged at the counterfeit, that he attacked the baboon whip in hand, and, in all probability, would have sacrificed him to his resentment, had not he been prevented by the other fox-hunters. They interposed, in order to make up the difference betwixt two brothers of the sport, and were equally surprised and diverted when they distinguished the quality of Crookback's antagonist, which they rescued from his rage, and reconveyed to its master.
But the main fun for young Pickle in his later years was the chase, where he gained some fame for his bravery and his unusual appearance, which seemed to get more peculiar every day. This inspired a ridiculous plan for revenge from a local gentleman. After being insulted by Crookback's arrogance, he dressed a large baboon he owned in a costume that looked like Gam's hunting outfit, then had the animal strapped onto the back of his best horse. They were sent out one day after the hounds. Soon, the horse outpaced all the others in the field, and everyone mistook the rider for Gam, greeting him with cheers and noting how the squire had his usual luck of being better mounted than his neighbors. When Pickle later showed up, the crowd was shocked, with one person asking if he had split into two, pointing out the baboon that was nearly caught up with the hounds. Gam then chased after the impostor. Upon catching up, he was so furious at the fake that he attacked the baboon with a whip, and would have likely harmed it if the other fox hunters hadn't stopped him. They intervened to settle the dispute between the two rivals and were equally surprised and amused when they realized who Crookback's opponent really was. They then rescued the baboon from Gam's anger and returned it to its owner.
Peregrine, at the request of his friend Jack, took charge of his aunt's funeral, to which his parents were invited, though they did not think proper to appear, or pay the least regard to his solicitations, when he desired permission to wait upon them in person. Nevertheless, old Gamaliel, at the instigation of his wife, afterwards obtained an order from Doctors' Commons, obliging Hatchway to produce the will of his wife, on the supposition that she had bequeathed to him some part of the money, which, he knew, was at her own disposal. But from this step he reaped no other satisfaction than that of finding himself altogether neglected by the testatrix, who had left all her effects to her husband, except one thousand pounds, with her jewels, to Julia's daughter, the benefaction mentioned in the lieutenant's letter, and some inconsiderable legacies to her favourite domestics.
Peregrine, at his friend Jack's request, took charge of his aunt's funeral, which his parents were invited to, but they didn’t think it appropriate to show up or even respond to his attempts to visit them in person. However, old Gamaliel, spurred on by his wife, later got an order from Doctors' Commons that forced Hatchway to show his wife's will, assuming she had left him some of the money she could decide on. But from this action, he gained no real satisfaction other than realizing he was completely overlooked by the deceased, who had left all her belongings to her husband, except for one thousand pounds and her jewels, which she bequeathed to Julia's daughter, as mentioned in the lieutenant’s letter, along with some small legacies to her favorite servants.
A few days after the interment of this good lady, our hero was agreeably surprised with a visit from his friend Godfrey, who had come to England in consequence of that promotion which he owed to his interest, though the soldier himself placed it to the credit of a certain courtier who had formerly promised to befriend him, and now finding his advancement unowned, very modestly arrogated the merit of it to himself. He communicated his good-fortune to Pickle, who complimented him upon it as an event of which he had no precognition; and at the same time told him, that, in consequence of his preferment, his cousin at Windsor had consented to his being immediately united in the bands of wedlock with his lovely Sophy; that the wedding-day was already fixed; and that nothing would be wanting to his happiness, if Peregrine would honour the nuptials with his presence.
A few days after the burial of this good lady, our hero was pleasantly surprised by a visit from his friend Godfrey, who had come to England because of a promotion he got thanks to his connections, although the soldier credited a certain courtier who had previously promised to help him. Now that his promotion was unrecognized, the courtier modestly took the credit for it himself. Godfrey shared his good news with Pickle, who congratulated him on this unexpected event, and at the same time informed him that, due to his new position, his cousin in Windsor had agreed to his immediate wedding to his beautiful Sophy; the wedding day was already set, and all that was needed for his happiness was for Peregrine to come and celebrate the marriage with them.
Our hero accepted the invitation with great eagerness, when he learned that Emilia would be there in quality of bridesmaid; and now repeated what he had formerly written to his friend, namely, that he was not only willing, but extremely impatient to atone for his mad behaviour to that young lady, by laying himself and his whole fortune at her feet. Godfrey thanked him for his honourable intention, and promised to use his influence, and that of Sophy, in his behalf, though he seemed dubious of their success, on account of his sister's delicacy which could not pardon the least shadow of disrespect. He owned, indeed, he was not certain that she would appear in the same company with Pickle; but, as she made no stipulation on that score, he would interpret her silence in the most favourable manner, and keep her in ignorance of his design, until she should find it too late to retract with any decency. The hope of seeing and conversing with Emilia, and perhaps of being reconciled to her, after having suffered so much and so long from her displeasure, raised a tumult of ideas in his breast, and produced a strange inquietude of joy and perturbation. Gauntlet having stayed with him a few days, and signified the time appointed for his spousals, took his leave, in order to prepare for the occasion; while Peregrine, with his friend Hatchway, made a tour among his acquaintance in the country, with a view of sounding their inclinations touching a project which he had lately conceived, of offering himself as a candidate for a certain borough in the neighbourhood, at the ensuing election for members of parliament.
Our hero eagerly accepted the invitation when he found out that Emilia would be there as a bridesmaid. He reiterated what he had previously written to his friend: he was not only willing but also incredibly eager to make up for his crazy behavior towards her by offering himself and his entire fortune to her. Godfrey thanked him for his honorable plan and promised to use his influence, along with Sophy’s, to help him, although he seemed unsure of their chances due to his sister's sensitivity, which wouldn’t tolerate any hint of disrespect. He admitted he wasn’t sure if she would be willing to be in the same company as Pickle, but since she hadn’t made any demands on that front, he chose to view her silence positively and keep her unaware of his intentions until it would be too late for her to back out gracefully. The thought of seeing and talking to Emilia again, and maybe even reconciling after suffering for so long from her anger, stirred up a mix of excitement and anxiety within him. After Gauntlet stayed with him for a few days and mentioned the date set for his wedding, he took his leave to prepare for the event. Meanwhile, Peregrine, along with his friend Hatchway, visited friends in the area to gauge their thoughts on a new idea he had: running as a candidate for a local borough in the upcoming parliamentary election.
This scheme, which was suggested to him by one of his quality patrons, would have succeeded according to his wish, had the election taken place immediately; but, before that happened, his interest was overbalanced by some small accidents that will be recorded in the sequel. In the meantime, he repaired to Windsor on the eve of his friend's marriage, and understood from Godfrey that it was with the utmost difficulty he and Sophy could prevail upon his sister to be present at the wedding. when she was informed that her lover was invited; and that her consent had not been obtained until they had promised, on the part of Peregrine, that he should not renew the old topic, nor even speak to her in the style of a former acquaintance.
This plan, suggested to him by one of his prominent supporters, would have worked out as he hoped if the election had happened right away; however, before that could occur, his interest was overshadowed by a few minor incidents that will be detailed later. In the meantime, he went to Windsor on the eve of his friend's wedding and learned from Godfrey that he and Sophy had a hard time convincing his sister to attend the ceremony when she found out her ex was invited. They didn’t get her agreement until they promised, on Peregrine's behalf, that he wouldn't bring up their past relationship or even talk to her like they used to.
Our young gentleman was nettled at this preliminary, to which, however, he said he would adhere; and so well did he think himself fortified with pride and resentment, that he resolved to behave towards her with such indifference, as would, he hoped, mortify her vanity, and thereby punish her for the implacability of her disposition. Armed with these sentiments, he was next day introduced by Godfrey to the bride, who received him with her usual sweetness of temper and affability; and Emilia being present, he saluted her with a distant bow, which she acknowledged with a cold courtesy, and an aspect of ice. Though this deportment confirmed his displeasure, her beauty undermined his resolution; he thought her charms infinitely improved since their last parting, and a thousand fond images recurring to his imagination, he felt his whole soul dissolving into tenderness and love.
Our young gentleman was annoyed by this initial situation, but he said he would stick to it. He felt so bolstered by pride and resentment that he decided to treat her with such indifference that hopefully it would hurt her vanity and punish her for her stubbornness. Armed with these feelings, he was introduced the next day by Godfrey to the bride, who welcomed him with her usual sweetness and friendliness. With Emilia present, he greeted her with a distant bow, which she returned with a cold courtesy and an icy demeanor. Although this behavior confirmed his displeasure, her beauty weakened his resolve; he thought her charms had improved immensely since they last parted, and with a flood of tender memories filling his mind, he felt his entire being melting into affection and love.
In order to banish those dangerous ideas, he endeavoured to enter into a gay conversation with Sophy, on the subject of the approaching ceremony; but his tongue performed its office awkwardly, his eyes were attracted towards Emilia, as if they had been subject to the power of fascination; in spite of all his efforts, a deep sigh escaped from his bosom, and his whole appearance indicated anxiety and confusion. The bridegroom, perceiving his condition, abridged the visit, and having conducted his companion to his own lodgings, expressed his concern at having been the innocent occasion of his uneasiness, by exposing him to the sight of Emilia, which he perceived had given him pain. Peregrine, who had by this time recollected the dictates of his pride, assured him, that he was very much mistaken in the cause of his disorder, which was no other than a sudden qualm, to which he had been for some time subject; and to show him how philosophically he could bear the disdain of Emilia, which, with all deference to her conduct, he could not help thinking a little too severe, he desired, as the bridegroom had made preparation for a private ball in the evening, that he would provide him with an agreeable partner; in which case he would exhibit undoubted proofs of the tranquility of his heart. “I was in hopes,” answered Godfrey, “of being able, with the assistance of Sophy, to make up matters between you and my sister, and for that reason kept her unengaged to any other gentleman for the night; but since she was so peevishly obstinate, I shall take care to accommodate you with a very handsome young lady, whose partner will not be sorry to exchange her for Emilia.”
To get rid of those troubling thoughts, he tried to have a light conversation with Sophy about the upcoming ceremony. However, he stumbled over his words, and his gaze was drawn to Emilia, as if he were under a spell. Despite his efforts, a deep sigh escaped him, and his whole demeanor showed signs of worry and confusion. The bridegroom noticed his state, cut the visit short, and took his friend back to his place, expressing regret for causing him discomfort by exposing him to Emilia, which he could see had upset him. By this time, Peregrine had remembered his pride and told him he was mistaken about the reason for his distress, which was just a sudden wave of discomfort he had been experiencing for a while. To prove how well he could handle Emilia's rejection, which he honestly thought was a bit harsh, he asked the bridegroom, who was preparing for a private ball that evening, to arrange for an attractive partner for him. He promised he would show undeniable signs of a calm heart. "I was hoping," Godfrey replied, "to use Sophy's help to reconcile you and my sister, which is why I kept her free for tonight; but since she’s being so stubborn, I’ll make sure you get a very lovely young lady, and her partner won't regret switching her out for Emilia."
The thoughts of having an opportunity to coquette with another woman, under the eye of this implacable mistress, supported his spirits during the ceremony, which put Gauntlet in possession of his heart's desire; and, by means of this cordial, he found himself so undisturbed at dinner, though he sat opposite to his fair enemy, that he was able to pass some occasional jokes upon the new-married couple, with some appearance of mirth and good-humour. Nor did Emily any otherwise seem affected by his presence, than by excepting him from the participation of those genial regards which she distributed to the rest of the company. This easiness of behaviour on her side reinforced his resolution, by giving him pretence to call her sensibility in question; for he could not conceive how any woman of acute feelings could sit unmoved in presence of a man with whom she had such recent and intimate connection; not considering that she had much more reason to condemn his affectation of unconcern, and that her external deportment might, like his own, be an effort of pride and resentment.
The thought of having a chance to flirt with another woman, right under the gaze of his relentless mistress, kept his spirits up during the ceremony that fulfilled Gauntlet's heart's desire. Thanks to this boost, he felt surprisingly at ease at dinner, even sitting across from his beautiful adversary, allowing him to crack a few jokes at the newlyweds with a semblance of cheer and friendliness. Emily, however, only seemed to react to his presence by leaving him out of the warm attention she showed the rest of the guests. Her calm demeanor strengthened his determination, giving him a reason to question her sensitivity. He couldn’t understand how any woman with strong feelings could remain unaffected in the presence of a man to whom she had such a recent and close connection. He failed to realize that she had even more reason to criticize his pretense of indifference and that her composed behavior might, like his own, be a show of pride and resentment.
This contest, in point of dissimulation, continued till night, when the company was paired for dancing, and Peregrine began the ball by walking a minuet with the bride; then he took out the young lady to whom he was recommended by Gauntlet, being very well pleased to see that her person was such as might have inspired even Emily herself with jealousy, though, at the same time, he perceived his mistress coupled with a gay young officer, whom, with all due deference to his own qualifications, he considered as no despicable rival. However, he himself first began hostilities, by becoming all of a sudden particular with his partner, whom he forthwith assailed with flattering compliments, that soon introduced the subject of love, upon which he expatiated with great art and elocution, using not only the faculty of speech, but also the language of the eyes, in which he was a perfect connoisseur.
This contest of pretending went on until night, when everyone paired up for dancing, and Peregrine kicked things off by doing a minuet with the bride. Then he asked the young lady recommended to him by Gauntlet to dance, feeling quite pleased to see that she was attractive enough to make even Emily a little jealous. At the same time, he noticed his mistress dancing with a charming young officer, whom he, despite his own talents, considered a worthy rival. However, he made the first move by suddenly focusing on his partner, showering her with flattering compliments that quickly led them to talk about love, a topic he elaborated on with great skill and eloquence, using not just words but also expressive glances, in which he was an expert.
This behaviour soon manifested itself to the whole assembly, the greatest part of whom believed that he was in good earnest captivated by the charms of his partner; while Emilia, penetrating into his design, turned his own artillery upon himself, by seeming to listen with pleasure to the addresses of his rival, who was no novice in the art of making love. She even affected uncommon vivacity, and giggled aloud at every whisper which he conveyed into her ear, insomuch that she, in her turn, afforded speculation to the company, who imagined the young soldier had made a conquest of the bridegroom's sister. Pickle himself began to cherish the same opinion, which gradually invaded his good-humour, and at length filled his bosom with rage. He strove to suppress his indignation, and called every consideration of vanity and revenge to his aid. He endeavoured to wean his eyes from the fatal object that disturbed him, but they would not obey his direction and command. He wished himself deprived of all sensation, when he heard her laugh, and saw her smile upon the officer; and, in the course of country-dancing, when he was obliged to join hands with her, the touch thrilled through all his nerves, and kindled a flame within him which he could not contain. In a word, his endeavours to conceal the situation of his thoughts were so violent, that his constitution could not endure the shock; the sweat ran down his forehead in a stream, the colour vanished from his cheeks, his knees began to totter, and his eyesight to fail; so that he must have fallen at his full length upon the floor, had not he retired very abruptly into another room, where he threw himself upon a couch, and fainted.
This behavior quickly became apparent to the entire crowd, most of whom thought he was genuinely captivated by the charms of his partner. Meanwhile, Emilia, seeing through his intentions, turned his own tactics against him by pretending to enjoy the attention of his rival, who was quite skilled in the art of flirting. She even acted unusually lively, laughing loudly at every whisper he shared with her, which led the onlookers to believe the young soldier had won over the bridegroom's sister. Pickle himself began to share this belief, which gradually soured his good mood and eventually filled him with anger. He tried to suppress his frustration, calling on all his vanity and desire for revenge to help him. He attempted to tear his gaze away from the distressing sight, but his eyes refused to obey. He wished he could feel nothing when he heard her laugh and saw her smile at the officer. During the country dancing, when he was forced to hold her hand, the contact surged through his nerves and ignited a fire within him that he couldn't control. In short, his efforts to hide his emotions were so intense that his body couldn't handle the strain; sweat streamed down his forehead, color drained from his face, his knees started to buckle, and his vision blurred. He would have collapsed completely on the floor if he hadn't abruptly stepped into another room, where he collapsed onto a couch and fainted.
In this condition he was found by his friend, who, seeing him withdraw with such symptoms of disorder, followed him thither; and, when he recovered the use of his faculties, pressed him to make use of a bed in that house, rather than expose himself in the night air, by going home to his own lodgings; but not being able to prevail upon him to accept the offer, he wrapped him up in a cloak, and, conducting him to the inn where he lodged, helped him to undress and go to bed, where he was immediately seized with a violent fit of the ague. Godfrey behaved with great tenderness, and would have actually borne him company all night, notwithstanding the circumstances of his own situation, had not his friend insisted upon his returning to the company, and making his apology to his partner for his sudden departure. This was a step absolutely necessary towards maintaining the quiet of the assembly, which he found in great consternation, occasioned by his absence; for some of the ladies, seeing the bridegroom follow the stranger in his retreat, the meaning of which they did not comprehend, began to be afraid of a quarrel. Emilia, upon pretence of that supposition, was so much alarmed, that she could not stand, and was fain to have recourse to a smelling-bottle.
In this condition, he was found by his friend, who, noticing him leave with such signs of distress, followed him. When he regained his composure, his friend urged him to use a bed in that house instead of braving the night air by going home to his own place. However, unable to convince him to accept the offer, he wrapped him in a cloak and guided him to the inn where he stayed, helping him to undress and get into bed, where he was immediately hit with a severe bout of chills. Godfrey acted with great kindness and would have stayed with him all night, despite his own circumstances, if his friend hadn't insisted that he return to the gathering and apologize to his partner for leaving so abruptly. This was crucial to maintaining the peace of the group, which was in a state of panic due to his absence. Some of the ladies, seeing the groom follow the stranger, were unsure of what it meant and began to worry about a possible quarrel. Emilia, worried by this possibility, became so distressed that she couldn't stand and had to resort to a smelling salt.
The bride, who understood the whole mystery, was the only person that acted with deliberation and composure; she imputed Emilia's disorder to the right cause, which was no other than concern for the condition of her lover, and assured the ladies there was nothing extraordinary in Mr. Pickle's going off, he being subject to fainting fits, by which he was often overtaken without any previous notice. The arrival of Gauntlet confirmed the truth of this declaration. He made an apology to the company in the name of his friend, who, he told them, was suddenly taken ill; and they returned to their diversion of dancing, with this variation: Emilia was so disordered and fatigued, that she begged to be excused from continuing the exercise; and Peregrine's partner being disengaged, was paired with the young officer, for whom she was originally designed. Meanwhile, the bride withdrew into another apartment with her sister, and expostulated with her upon her cruelty to Mr. Pickle, assuring her, from Godfrey's information, that he had undergone a severe fit on her account, which, in all likelihood would have a dangerous effect upon his constitution. Though Emily was inflexible in her answers to the kind remonstrances of the gentle Sophy, her heart was melting with the impressions of pity and love; and, finding herself unable to perform the duty of her function, in putting the bride to bed, she retired to her own chamber, and in secret sympathized with the distemper of her lover.
The bride, who understood the whole situation, was the only one who acted thoughtfully and calmly; she attributed Emilia's distress to the right cause, which was simply her worry for her lover’s condition. She assured the ladies that there was nothing unusual about Mr. Pickle leaving suddenly, as he often had fainting spells without any warning. When Gauntlet arrived, he confirmed her statement. He apologized to everyone on behalf of his friend, saying he had become ill unexpectedly, and they returned to their dancing. However, Emilia was so upset and tired that she asked to sit out, and Peregrine’s partner, who was now free, was paired with the young officer she was originally meant to dance with. Meanwhile, the bride went to another room with her sister and confronted her about her cruelty to Mr. Pickle, explaining, based on Godfrey's information, that he had just suffered a severe spell because of her, which could be dangerous for his health. Although Emily remained firm in her responses to Sophy's kind protests, her heart was softening with feelings of pity and love. Unable to fulfill her duty of putting the bride to bed, she returned to her own room and secretly empathized with her lover’s distress.
In the morning, as early as decency would permit him to leave the arms of his dear wife, Captain Gauntlet made a visit to Peregrine, who had passed a very tedious and uneasy night, having been subject to short intervals of delirium, during which Pipes had found it very difficult to keep him fast belayed. He owned indeed to Godfrey, that his imagination had been haunted by the ideas of Emilia and her officer, which tormented him to an unspeakable degree of anguish and distraction; and that he would rather suffer death than a repetition of such excruciating reflections. He was, however, comforted by his friend, who assured him, that his sister's inclinations would in time prevail over all the endeavours of resentment and pride, illustrating this asseveration by an account of the manner in which she was affected by the knowledge of his disorder, and advising him to implore the mediation of Sophy, in a letter which she should communicate to Emilia.
In the morning, as soon as he could respectfully slip away from his beloved wife, Captain Gauntlet visited Peregrine, who had endured a very long and uncomfortable night, experiencing short bouts of delirium, during which Pipes had found it quite hard to keep him securely restrained. He confessed to Godfrey that his mind had been tormented by thoughts of Emilia and her officer, which caused him unbearable anguish and distraction; he would rather face death than relive such painful reflections. However, he found comfort in his friend, who assured him that his sister's feelings would eventually overcome any resentment or pride, illustrating this point with an example of how she reacted to the news of his illness, and advising him to ask Sophy to help by sending a letter to Emilia.
This was an opportunity which our hero thought too favourable to be neglected: calling for paper, he sat up in his bed, and, in the first transports of his emotion, wrote the following petition to Godfrey's amiable wife:—
This was an opportunity that our hero thought was too good to pass up: asking for some paper, he sat up in his bed and, in the first rush of his emotions, wrote the following petition to Godfrey's lovely wife:—
Dear Madam—The affliction of a contrite heart can never
appeal to your benevolence in vain, and, therefore, I
presume to approach you in this season of delight, with
the language of sorrow, requesting that you will espouse
the cause of an unhappy lover, who mourns with unutterable
anguish over his ruined hope, and intercede for my pardon
with that divine creature, whom, in the intemperance and
excess of passion, I have so mortally offended. Good Heaven!
is my guilt inexpiable? Am I excluded from all hope of
remission? Am I devoted to misery and despair? I have
offered all the atonement which the most perfect and sincere
penitence could suggest, and she rejects my humility and
repentance. If her resentment would pursue me to the grave,
let her signify her pleasure; and may I be branded with the
name of villain, and remembered with infamy and detestation
to all posterity, if I hesitate one moment in sacrificing a
life which is odious to Emilia. Ah! madam, while I thus pour
forth the effusions of my grief and distraction, I look
around the apartment in which I lie, and every well-known
object that salutes my view, recalls to my remembrance that
fond, that happy day, on which the fair, the good, the
tender-hearted Sophy became my advocate, though I was a
stranger to her acquaintance, and effected a transporting
reconciliation between me and that same enchanting beauty,
that is now so implacably incensed. If she is not satisfied
with the pangs of remorse and disappointment, the transports
of madness I have undergone, let her prescribe what further
penance she thinks I ought to endure, and when I decline her
sentence, let me be the object of her eternal disdain.
I commit myself, dear madam! dear Sophy! dear partner of my
Friend! to your kind interposition. I know you will manage
my cause, as a concern on which my happiness entirely
depends; and I hope everything from your compassion and
beneficence, while I fear everything from her rigour and
barbarity. Yes! I call it barbarity, a savageness of delicacy
altogether inconsistent with the tenderness of human nature;
and may the most abject contempt be my portion, if I live
under its scourge! But I begin to rave. I conjure you by your
own humanity and sweetness of disposition, I conjure you by
your love for the man whom Heaven hath decreed your protector,
to employ your influence with that angel of wrath, in behalf
of your obliged and obedient servant. “P. PICKLE.”
Dear Madam—The pain of a remorseful heart can never appeal to your kindness in vain, and so I dare to approach you in this joyful time with words of sorrow, asking that you will take up the cause of an unhappy lover who mourns with unexpressable anguish over his shattered hope, and intercede for my forgiveness with that divine being whom, in a fit of overwhelming passion, I have so gravely offended. Good heavens! Is my guilt unforgivable? Am I completely hopeless for forgiveness? Am I destined for misery and despair? I have offered all the atonement that the sincerest repentance could suggest, and she turns away my humility and regret. If her anger is to follow me to the grave, let her make her will known; and may I be branded as a villain, remembered with shame and loathing for all time, if I hesitate for even a moment in sacrificing a life that is loathsome to Emilia. Ah! Madam, as I pour out these expressions of my grief and distraction, I look around the room where I lie, and every familiar object in my view reminds me of that fond, happy day when the fair, good, tender-hearted Sophy became my advocate, though I was a stranger to her, and brought about a joyful reconciliation between me and that enchanting beauty who is now so unforgiving. If she is not satisfied with the agony of regret and disappointment, the madness I have experienced, let her suggest what further punishment I should endure, and if I refuse her command, let me be the target of her eternal disdain.
I entrust myself to you, dear madam! dear Sophy! dear partner of my friend! I know you will handle my case as if my happiness completely depends on it; and I hope for everything from your compassion and kindness, while I fear everything from her harshness and cruelty. Yes! I call it cruelty, an unfeeling delicacy that completely contradicts human tenderness; and may the utmost contempt be my fate if I have to live under its torment! But I am starting to lose control. I implore you by your own compassion and kindness, I urge you by your love for the man whom Heaven has chosen to protect you, to use your influence with that wrathful angel on behalf of your grateful and obedient servant. “P. PICKLE.”This epistle was immediately transmitted by Godfrey to his wife, who perused it with marks of the most humane sympathy; and, carrying it into her sister's chamber, “Here is something,” said she, presenting the paper, “which I must recommend to your serious attention.” Emilia, who immediately guessed the meaning of this address, absolutely refused to look upon it, or even to hear it read, till her brother, entering her apartment, reprimanded her sharply for her obstinacy and pride, accused her of folly and dissimulation, and entered so warmly into the interests of his friend, that she thought him unkind in his remonstrances, and, bursting into a flood of tears, reproached him with partiality and want of affection. Godfrey, who entertained the most perfect love and veneration for his sister, asked pardon for having given offence, and, kissing the drops from her fair eyes, begged she would, for his sake, listen to the declaration of his friend.
This letter was quickly sent by Godfrey to his wife, who read it with obvious sympathy. Taking it into her sister's room, she said, "Here’s something that I really need you to pay attention to." Emilia, who immediately guessed what this was about, refused to look at it or even hear it read until her brother came into her room. He scolded her harshly for being stubborn and proud, accused her of being foolish and insincere, and spoke passionately about his friend's situation. She found him unkind in his criticisms and, bursting into tears, accused him of being biased and lacking affection. Godfrey, who had deep love and respect for his sister, apologized for upsetting her and, wiping the tears from her beautiful eyes, pleaded with her to listen to what his friend had to say for his sake.
Thus solicited, she could not refuse to hear the letter, which, when he had repeated, she lamented her own fate in being the occasion of so much uneasiness, desired her brother to assure Mr. Pickle that she was not a voluntary enemy to his peace; on the contrary, she wished him all happiness, though she hoped he would not blame her for consulting her own, in avoiding any future explanation or connection with a person whose correspondence she found herself under a necessity to renounce. In vain did the new-married couple exhaust their eloquence in attempting to prove, that the reparation which our hero had offered was adequate to the injury she had sustained: that in reconciling herself to a penitent lover, who subscribed to her own terms of submission, her honour would be acquitted by the most scrupulous and severe judges of decorum; and that her inflexibility would be justly ascribed to the pride and insensibility of her heart. She turned a deaf ear to all their arguments, exhortations, and entreaties, and threatened to leave the house immediately, if they would not promise to drop that subject of discourse.
Feeling pressured, she couldn't refuse to listen to the letter, which, after he read it again, made her mourn her own situation for causing so much distress. She asked her brother to let Mr. Pickle know that she wasn't intentionally undermining his happiness; in fact, she wished him all the best, although she hoped he wouldn’t fault her for prioritizing her own well-being by avoiding any further explanation or relationship with someone whose correspondence she had to give up. The newly married couple tried in vain to persuade her that the amends our hero proposed were enough to compensate for the harm she had suffered—that by reconciling with a remorseful lover who agreed to her conditions, her honor would be cleared in the eyes of even the strictest moral judges; and that her stubbornness would rightly be seen as a reflection of her pride and emotional coldness. She ignored all their arguments, pleas, and attempts to persuade her and threatened to leave the house immediately if they didn't agree to drop the topic.
Godfrey, very much chagrined at the bad success of his endeavours, returned to his friend, and made as favourable a report of the affair, as the nature of his conversation with Emilia would permit; but as he could not avoid mentioning her resolution in the close, Peregrine was obliged to drink again the bitter draught of disappointment, which put his passions into such a state of agitation, as produced a short ecstasy of despair, in which he acted a thousand extravagances. This paroxysm, however, soon subsided into a settled reserve of gloomy resentment, which he in secret indulged, detaching himself, as soon as possible, from the company of the soldier, on pretence of retiring to rest.
Godfrey, feeling really frustrated by the poor outcome of his efforts, went back to his friend and gave the most positive report he could about his conversation with Emilia. However, since he couldn’t help but mention her decision at the end, Peregrine was forced to drink again from the bitter cup of disappointment, which stirred his emotions into such turmoil that he experienced a brief moment of despair, leading him to act out in various strange ways. This outburst, however, quickly faded into a deep-seated hostility that he secretly nurtured, and he detached himself from the soldier’s company as soon as he could, pretending he needed to go to bed.
While he lay ruminating upon the circumstances of his present situation, his friend Pipes, who knew the cause of his anxiety, and firmly believed that Emilia loved his master at her heart, howsoever she might attempt to disguise her sentiments; I say, Thomas was taken with a conceit which he thought would set everything to rights, and therefore put it in execution without further delay. Laying aside his hat, he ran directly to the house of Sophy's father, and, affecting an air of surprise and consternation, to which he had never before been subject, thundered at the door with such an alarming knock, as in a moment brought the whole family into the hall. When he was admitted, he began to gape, stare, and pant at the same time, and made no reply, when Godfrey asked what was the matter, till Mrs. Gauntlet expressed her apprehensions about his master. When Pickle's name was mentioned, he seemed to make an effort to speak, and, in a bellowing tone, pronounced, “Brought himself up, split my topsails!” So saying, he pointed to his own neck, and rose upon his tiptoes, by way of explaining the meaning of his words.
While he lay thinking about his current situation, his friend Pipes, who knew the reason for his worry and truly believed that Emilia loved his master despite her efforts to hide her feelings, inspired Thomas to come up with an idea that he thought would solve everything. So, without wasting any time, he set his plan in motion. He removed his hat and hurried straight to Sophy's father's house, pretending to be shocked and distressed in a way he had never experienced before. He knocked on the door with such a loud bang that it quickly drew the entire family into the hall. Once inside, he started to gape, stare, and pant all at once, and he didn't respond when Godfrey asked what was wrong until Mrs. Gauntlet voiced her worries about his master. When Pickle's name came up, he seemed to struggle to speak and, in a loud voice, exclaimed, “Brought himself up, split my topsails!” Then he pointed to his own neck and stood on his tiptoes to help explain what he meant.
Godfrey, without staying to ask another question, rushed out, and flew towards the inn, with the utmost horror and concern; while Sophy, who did not rightly understand the language of the messenger, addressing herself to him a second time, said, “I hope no accident has happened to Mr. Pickle?”—“No accident at all,” replied Tom; “he has only hanged himself for love.” These words had scarcely proceeded from his mouth, when Emilia, who stood listening at the parlour door, shrieked aloud, and dropped down senseless upon the floor; while her sister, who was almost equally shocked at the intelligence, had recourse to the assistance of her maid, by whom she was supported from falling. Pipes, hearing Emily's voice, congratulated himself upon the success of his stratagem. He sprung to her assistance, and, lifting her up into an easy chair, stood by her, until he saw her recover from her swoon, and heard her call upon his master's name, with all the frenzy of despairing love. Then he bent his course back to the inn, overjoyed at the opportunity of telling Peregrine what a confession he had extorted from his mistress, and extremely vain of this proof of his own sagacity.
Godfrey, without pausing to ask another question, rushed out and dashed toward the inn, filled with horror and worry. Sophy, not quite grasping what the messenger meant, addressed him again, saying, “I hope nothing has happened to Mr. Pickle?”—“Nope, nothing's happened,” Tom replied; “he's just hanged himself out of love.” As soon as those words left his mouth, Emilia, who was standing by the parlor door listening, screamed and collapsed, unconscious on the floor. Her sister, equally shocked by the news, leaned on her maid for support to keep from falling. Pipes, hearing Emilia's cry, was pleased with the success of his scheme. He rushed to help her, lifting her into a comfortable chair and standing by until he saw her regain consciousness and heard her call out his master's name in a frenzy of despairing love. He then made his way back to the inn, overjoyed at the chance to tell Peregrine about the confession he had gotten from his mistress and feeling quite proud of his cleverness.
In the meantime Godfrey arriving at the house in which he supposed this fatal catastrophe had happened, ran upstairs to Peregrine's chamber, without staying to make any inquiry below; and, finding the door locked, burst it open with one stroke of his foot. But what was his amazement, when, upon entrance, our hero, starting up from the bed, saluted him with a boisterous exclamation of “Zounds! who's there?” He was struck dumb with astonishment, which also riveted him to the place where he stood, scarce crediting the testimony of his own senses, till Peregrine, with an air of discontent, which denoted him displeased with his intrusion, dispelled his apprehension by a second address, saying, “I see you consider me as a friend, by your using me without ceremony.” The soldier, thus convinced of the falsehood of the information he had received, began to imagine, that Pickle had projected the plan which was executed by his servant; and looking upon it as a piece of unjustifiable finesse, which might be attended with very melancholy consequences to his sister or wife, he answered, in a supercilious tone, that Mr. Pickle must blame himself for the interruption of his repose, which was entirely owing to the sorry jest he had set on foot.
Meanwhile, Godfrey arrived at the house where he thought this tragic event had occurred and ran upstairs to Peregrine's room without bothering to ask anyone below. Finding the door locked, he kicked it open with one swift movement. But to his amazement, when he entered, our hero jumped up from the bed and greeted him with a loud, “Zounds! Who's there?” Godfrey was speechless with astonishment, rooted to the spot, hardly believing what he was seeing until Peregrine, looking annoyed and clearly unhappy about the intrusion, cleared his confusion by saying, “I see you consider me a friend, treating me so casually.” The soldier, now convinced that the information he had received was wrong, began to think that Pickle had set up the situation that his servant carried out. He viewed it as an unjustified trick, potentially leading to very unfortunate consequences for his sister or wife, and replied in a condescending tone that Mr. Pickle had only himself to blame for interrupting his rest, which was entirely due to the ridiculous joke he had started.
Pickle, who was the child of passion, and more than half mad with impatience before this visit, hearing himself treated in such a cavalier manner, advanced close up to Godfrey's breast, and assuming a stern, or rather frantic countenance, “Hark ye, sir,” said he, “you are mistaken if you think I jest; I am in downright earnest, I assure you.” Gauntlet, who was not a man to be browbeaten, seeing himself thus bearded by a person of whose conduct he had, he thought, reason to complain, put on his military look of defiance, and, erecting his chest, replied with an exalted voice, “Mr. Pickle, whether you were in jest or earnest, you must give me leave to tell you, that the scheme was childish, unseasonable, and unkind, not to give it a harsher term.”—“Death, sir!” cried our adventurer, “you trifle with my disquiet; if there is any meaning in your insinuation, explain yourself, and then I shall know what answer it will befit me to give.”—“I came with very different sentiments,” resumed the soldier, “but since you urge me to expostulation, and behave with such unprovoked loftiness of displeasure, I will, without circumlocution, tax you with having committed an outrage upon the peace of my family, in sending your fellow to alarm us with such an abrupt account of your having done violence upon yourself.” Peregrine, confounded at this imputation, stood silent, with a most savage aspect of surprise, eager to know the circumstance to which his accuser alluded, and incensed to find it beyond the sphere of his comprehension.
Pickle, who was the child of passion and more than half crazy with impatience before this visit, hearing himself treated so dismissively, stepped up close to Godfrey's chest and, putting on a serious or rather frantic expression, said, “Listen here, sir, you’re mistaken if you think I’m joking; I’m completely serious, I assure you.” Gauntlet, not one to be intimidated, seeing himself confronted by someone whose behavior he thought he had every reason to complain about, adopted a defiant military stance and, straightening his chest, replied in an elevated voice, “Mr. Pickle, whether you’re joking or serious, you must allow me to tell you that your plan was childish, ill-timed, and unkind, not to mention a harsher term.” “Blast it, sir!” exclaimed our adventurer, “you’re playing with my distress; if there’s any meaning to your suggestion, explain yourself, and then I’ll know what response is appropriate.” “I came with very different feelings,” the soldier continued, “but since you’re pushing me to defend myself and behaving with such unwarranted arrogance, I’ll, without beating around the bush, accuse you of having committed an offense against the peace of my family by sending your accomplice to disturb us with such a sudden report of your having harmed yourself.” Peregrine, stunned by this accusation, stood silent with a fierce look of surprise, eager to understand the situation his accuser was referring to and irritated to find it beyond his grasp.
While these two irritated friends stood fronting each other with mutual indignation in their eyes and attitudes, they were joined by Pipes, who, without taking the least notice of the situation in which he found them, told his master, that he might up with the top-gallant masts of his heart, and out with his rejoicing pendants; for as to Miss Emily, he had clapped her helm aweather, the vessel wore, and now she was upon the other tack, standing right into the harbour of his good-will. Peregrine, who was not yet a connoisseur in the terms of his lacquey, commanded him, upon pain of his displeasure, to be more explicit in his intelligence; and by dint of divers questions, obtained a perfect knowledge of the scheme which he had put in execution for his service. This information perplexed him not a little; he would have chastised his servant upon the spot for his temerity, had he not plainly perceived that the fellow's intention was to promote his case and satisfaction; and, on the other hand, he knew not how to acquit himself of the suspicion which he saw Godfrey entertain of his being the projector of the plan, without condescending to an explanation, which his present disposition could not brook. After some pause, however, turning to Pipes with a severe frown, “Rascal!” said he, “this is the second time I have suffered in the opinion of that lady, by your ignorance and presumption; if ever you intermeddle in my affairs for the future, without express order and direction, by all that's sacred, I will put you to death without mercy! Away, and let my horse be saddled this instant.”
While these two annoyed friends faced each other, their eyes and body language showing mutual anger, they were approached by Pipes, who, without acknowledging the tension between them, told his master that he should raise the top-gallant masts of his heart and display his happy flags; because as for Miss Emily, he had put her on the right course, the ship had changed direction, and now she was heading straight into the harbor of his favor. Peregrine, not yet familiar with his servant's terminology, ordered him, under threat of punishment, to be more clear with his message; and by asking a series of questions, he learned the full extent of the plan that Pipes had set in motion for his benefit. This news troubled him significantly; he would have punished his servant right then for his boldness if he hadn’t realized that the man's intention was to help him. On the other hand, he couldn’t shake the suspicion Godfrey had that he was behind the scheme, without resorting to an explanation that he was not in the mood to give. After a moment of silence, he turned to Pipes with a stern look and said, “You fool! This is the second time I've been judged poorly by that lady because of your ignorance and arrogance; if you ever meddle in my affairs again without my direct orders, I swear I'll have no mercy! Now go, and make sure my horse is saddled this instant.”
Pipes having withdrawn, in order to perform this piece of duty, our young gentleman, addressing himself again to the soldier, and laying his hand upon his breast, said, with a solemnity of regard, “Captain Gauntlet, upon my honour, I am altogether innocent of that shallow device which you impute to my invention; and I don't think you do justice either to my intellect or honour, in supposing me capable of such insolent absurdity. As for your sister, I have once in my life affronted her in the madness and impetuosity of desire; but I have made such acknowledgments, and offered such atonement, as few women of her sphere would have refused; and before God I am determined to endure every torment of disappointment and despair, rather than prostrate myself again to the cruelty of her unjustifiable pride.” So saying, he stalked suddenly down-stairs, and took horse immediately, his spirits being supported by resentment, which prompted him to vow within himself, that he would seek consolation for the disdain of Emilia, in the possession of the first willing wench he should meet upon the road.
Pipes having stepped back, our young gentleman turned to the soldier and, placing his hand on his chest, said solemnly, “Captain Gauntlet, I swear I am completely innocent of that silly scheme you think I came up with; I believe you’re not giving enough credit to my intelligence or honor by assuming I could be capable of such arrogant foolishness. As for your sister, I did once offend her in a moment of reckless desire, but I made my apologies and offered reparations that few women of her status would have turned down; and I swear, I would rather endure every bit of disappointment and despair than grovel again to her unjustifiable pride.” With that, he stalked down the stairs and immediately mounted his horse, driven by the anger that made him promise himself he would find comfort from Emilia’s disdain in the arms of the first willing woman he encountered on the road.
While he set out for the garrison with these sentiments, Gauntlet, in a suspense between anger, shame, and concern, returned to the house of his father-in-law, where he found his sister still violently agitated from the news of Peregrine's death; the mystery of which he forthwith unravelled, recounting at the same time the particulars of the conversation which had happened at the inn, and describing the demeanour of Pickle with some expressions of asperity, which were neither agreeable to Emilia, nor approved by the gentle Sophy, who tenderly chid him, for allowing Peregrine to depart in terms of misunderstanding.
While heading to the garrison with mixed feelings, Gauntlet, caught between anger, shame, and concern, returned to his father-in-law’s house, where he found his sister still upset over the news of Peregrine’s death. He quickly explained the situation, detailing the conversation that took place at the inn and describing Pickle's behavior with some harsh comments, which neither Emilia nor the gentle Sophy appreciated. Sophy gently scolded him for letting Peregrine leave on bad terms.
CHAPTER LXXXVII.
Peregrine sets out for the Garrison, and meets with a Nymph of the Road, whom he takes into Keeping, and metamorphoses into a fine Lady.
Peregrine heads out to the Garrison and meets a Nymph of the Road, whom he takes in and transforms into a beautiful Lady.
In the meantime, our hero jogged along in a profound reverie, which was disturbed by a beggar-woman and her daughter, who solicited him for alms, as he passed them on the road. The girl was about the age of sixteen, and, notwithstanding the wretched equipage in which she appeared, exhibited to his view a set of agreeable features, enlivened with the complexion of health and cheerfulness. The resolution I have already mentioned was still warm in his imagination; and he looked upon this young mendicant as a very proper object for the performance of his vow. He, therefore, entered into a conference with the mother, and for a small sum of money purchased her property in the wench, who did not require much courtship and entreaty, before she consented to accompany him to any place that he should appoint for her habitation.
In the meantime, our hero jogged along in deep thought, which was interrupted by a beggar-woman and her daughter, who asked him for money as he passed by. The girl was around sixteen, and despite her shabby appearance, she had a pleasant face, radiating health and cheerfulness. The resolution I mentioned earlier was still fresh in his mind, and he saw this young beggar as a perfect opportunity to fulfill his vow. So, he started a conversation with her mother and, for a small amount of money, bought her daughter, who didn’t need much persuading before she agreed to go with him to wherever he wanted her to live.
This contract being settled to his satisfaction, he ordered Pipes to seat his acquisition behind him upon the crupper, and, alighting at the first public-house which they found upon the road, he wrote a letter to Hatchway, desiring him to receive this hedge inamorata, and direct her to be cleaned and clothed in a decent manner, with all expedition, so that she should be touchable upon his arrival, which, on that account, he would defer for the space of one day. This billet, together with the girl, he committed to the charge of Pipes, after having laid strong injunctions upon him to abstain from all attempts upon her chastity, and ordered him to make the best of his way to the garrison, while he himself crossed the country to a market town, where he proposed to spend the night.
This contract being settled to his satisfaction, he told Pipes to put his new acquisition behind him on the saddle. When they stopped at the first pub they found along the way, he wrote a letter to Hatchway, asking him to take care of this girl and to have her cleaned up and dressed nicely as quickly as possible, so that she would be presentable by the time he arrived. Because of this, he decided to delay his arrival by one day. He handed this note, along with the girl, over to Pipes, clearly instructing him to stay away from any inappropriate behavior with her, and told him to hurry back to the garrison while he himself traveled to a market town, where he planned to spend the night.
Tom, thus cautioned, proceeded with his charge, and, being naturally taciturn, opened not his lips, until he had performed the best half of his journey. But Thomas, notwithstanding his irony appearance, was in reality composed of flesh and blood. His desire being titillated by the contact of a buxom wench, whose right arm embraced his middle as he rode, his thoughts began to mutiny against his master, and he found it almost impossible to withstand the temptation of making love. Nevertheless, he wrestled with these rebellious suggestions with all the reason that Heaven had enabled him to exert; and that being totally overcome, his victorious passion suddenly broke out in this address:
Tom, warned as he was, continued on his journey and, being naturally quiet, didn’t say a word until he had completed most of it. But Thomas, despite his cynical appearance, was very much human. His desires stirred by the presence of a curvy woman, who had her arm wrapped around him as he rode, his thoughts began to rebel against his master, and he found it nearly impossible to resist the urge to flirt. Still, he struggled with these tempting thoughts as best as he could, using all the reason he had. But when he was completely overcome, his passion burst forth in the following words:
“'Sblood! I believe master thinks I have no more stuff in my body than a dried haddock, to turn me adrift in the dark with such a spanker. D'ye think he don't, my dear?” To this question his fellow-traveller replied, “Swanker anan!” And the lover resumed his suit, saying, “Oons! how you tickle my timber! Something shoots from your arm, through my stowage, to the very keelstone. Han't you got quicksilver in your hand?”—“Quicksilver!” said the lady, “d—n the silver that has crossed my hand this month; d'ye think, if I had silver, I shouldn't buy me a smock?”—“Adsooks! you baggage,” cried the lover, “you shouldn't want a smock nor a petticoat neither, if you could have a kindness for a true-hearted sailor, as sound and strong as a nine-inch cable, that would keep all clear above board, and everything snug under the hatches.”—“Curse your gum!” said the charmer, “what's your gay balls and your hatches to me?”—“Do but let us bring-to a little,” answered the wooer, whose appetite was by this time whetted to a most ravenous degree, “and I'll teach you to box the compass, my dear. Ah! you strapper, what a jolly b— you are!”—“B—!” exclaimed this modern dulcinea, incensed at the opprobrious term; “such a b— as your mother, you dog! D— you, I've a good mind to box your jaws instead of your comepiss. I'll let you know, as how I am meat for your master, you saucy blackguard. You are worse than a dog, you old flinty-faced, flea-bitten scrub. A dog wears his own coat, but you wear your master's.”
“Damn it! I think my master believes I have as much substance in me as a dried fish, tossing me out in the dark with such a nuisance. Don’t you think so, my dear?” To this, his traveling companion replied, “Swanker anan!” And the lover continued, “Goodness! You really excite me! Something shoots from your arm, through my body, all the way to my core. Don’t tell me you have mercury in your hand?”—“Mercury!” the lady said, “Forget the money that’s come my way this month; do you think if I had cash, I wouldn't buy myself a dress?”—“For heaven's sake! you little minx,” the lover exclaimed, “you wouldn’t need a dress or a skirt if you could show some affection for a true-hearted sailor, strong and sturdy like a thick rope, who would keep everything above board and all set below deck.”—“Curse your nonsense!” said the enchanting lady, “what do your fancy ropes and your deck mean to me?”—“Just let’s pause for a moment,” replied the suitor, whose desire was growing increasingly intense, “and I'll teach you how to navigate properly, my dear. Ah! you lovely thing, what a delightful woman you are!”—“Delightful!” exclaimed this modern beauty, furious at the insult; “like the one your mother is, you brute! Damn you, I’m tempted to slap your face instead of your compass. Just so you know, I’m more than enough for your master, you cheeky rascal. You’re worse than a dog, you old hard-faced, flea-ridden scrub. A dog wears its own coat, but you wear your master’s.”
Such a torrent of disgraceful epithets from a person who had no clothes at all, converted the gallant's love into choler, and he threatened to dismount and seize her to a tree, when she should have a taste of his cat-o'-nine-tails athwart her quarters; but, instead of being intimidated by his menaces, she set him at defiance, and held forth with such a flow of eloquence, as would have entitled her to a considerable share of reputation, even among the nymphs of Billingsgate; for this young lady, over and above a natural genius for altercation, had her talents cultivated among the venerable society of weeders, podders, and hoppers, with whom she had associated from her tender years. No wonder, then, that she soon obtained a complete victory over Pipes, who, as the reader may have observed, was very little addicted to the exercise of speech. Indeed, he was utterly disconcerted by her volubility of tongue; and, being altogether unfurnished with answers to the distinct periods of her discourse, very wisely chose to save himself the expense of breath and argument, by giving her a full swing of cable, so that she might bring herself up; while he rode onwards, in silent composure, without taking any more notice of his fair fellow-traveller, than if she had been his master's cloak-bag.
Such a stream of insulting words from someone who had no clothes at all turned the gallant's love into anger, and he threatened to get off his horse and tie her to a tree, where she would feel the sting of his cat-o'-nine-tails on her backside. But instead of being scared by his threats, she defied him and spoke with such eloquence that she would have earned considerable respect, even among the nymphs of Billingsgate. This young lady, besides having a natural talent for arguing, had developed her skills among the esteemed group of weeders, podders, and hoppers, with whom she had spent her formative years. It’s no surprise, then, that she quickly defeated Pipes, who, as you might have noticed, was not very good at talking. In fact, he was completely thrown off by her rapid-fire speech; and, finding himself unable to respond to her various points, he sensibly decided to conserve his breath and argument by allowing her to talk freely while he rode on in silent calmness, paying no more attention to his fair companion than if she had been his master's duffel bag.
In spite of all the despatch he could make, it was late before he arrived at the garrison, where he delivered the letter and the lady to the lieutenant, who no sooner understood the intention of his friend, than he ordered all the tubs in the house to be carried into the hall, and filled with water. Tom having provided himself with swabs and brushes, divested the fair stranger of her variegated drapery, which was immediately committed to the flames, and performed upon her soft and sleek person the ceremony of scrubbing, as it is practised on board of the king's ships of war. Yet the nymph herself did not submit to this purification without repining. She cursed the director, who was upon the spot, with many abusive allusions to his wooden leg; and as for Pipes the operator, she employed her talons so effectually upon his face, that the blood ran over his nose in sundry streams; and next morning, when those rivulets were dry, his countenance resembled the rough bark of a plum-tree, plastered with gum. Nevertheless, he did his duty with great perseverance, cut off her hair close to the scalp, handled his brushes with dexterity, applied his swabs of different magnitude and texture, as the case required; and, lastly, rinsed the whole body with a dozen pails of cold water, discharged upon her head.
Despite all his effort, he arrived at the garrison late, where he handed over the letter and the lady to the lieutenant. As soon as the lieutenant understood his friend’s intentions, he ordered all the tubs in the house to be brought into the hall and filled with water. Tom, equipped with swabs and brushes, stripped the beautiful stranger of her colorful clothing, which was immediately thrown into the fire, and proceeded to scrub her soft, smooth body, just like they do on the king's warships. However, the lady did not accept this cleaning process without protest. She cursed the director, who was present, with many insults about his wooden leg, and as for Pipes, the one doing the scrubbing, she scratched his face so effectively that blood streamed down his nose in several places; and the next morning, when those streams had dried, his face looked like the rough bark of a plum tree covered in gum. Nevertheless, he performed his duties with great determination, cutting her hair close to the scalp, skillfully handling his brushes, using swabs of various sizes and textures as needed, and finally rinsing her entire body with a dozen buckets of cold water poured over her head.
These ablutions being executed, he dried her with towels, accommodated her with a clean shift, and, acting the part of a valet-de-chambre, clothed her from head to foot, in clean and decent apparel which had belonged to Mrs. Hatchway; by which means her appearance was altered so much for the better, that when Peregrine arrived next day, he could scarce believe his own eyes. He was, for that reason, extremely well pleased with his purchase, and now resolved to indulge a whim, which seized him at the very instant of his arrival.
After these washings were done, he dried her off with towels, helped her into a clean shift, and, playing the role of a valet, dressed her from head to toe in fresh and decent clothing that had belonged to Mrs. Hatchway. This change improved her appearance so much that when Peregrine arrived the next day, he could hardly believe his own eyes. Because of this, he was extremely pleased with his purchase and decided to indulge a whim that struck him the moment he arrived.
He had, as I believe the reader will readily allow, made considerable progress in the study of character, from the highest rank to the most humble station of life, and found it diversified in the same manner, through every degree of subordination and precedency: nay, he moreover observed, that the conversation of those who are dignified with the appellation of polite company, is neither more edifying nor entertaining than that which is met with among the lower classes of mankind; and that the only essential difference, in point of demeanour, is the form of an education, which the meanest capacity can acquire, without much study or application. Possessed of this notion, he determined to take the young mendicant under his own tutorage and instruction. In consequence of which, he hoped he should, in a few weeks, be able to produce her in company, as an accomplished young lady of uncommon wit, and an excellent understanding.
He had, as I believe the reader will easily agree, made significant progress in understanding character, from the highest ranks to the humblest positions in life, and found it varied in the same way through every level of hierarchy and precedence: indeed, he also noticed that the conversations of those who are called polite company are neither more enlightening nor entertaining than those found among the lower classes; and that the only real difference in behavior is the style of education, which even the simplest minds can acquire without much effort or study. With this in mind, he decided to take the young beggar under his wing for guidance and teaching. As a result, he hoped that in a few weeks, he would be able to introduce her to society as an accomplished young lady with exceptional wit and great understanding.
This extravagant plan he forthwith began to execute with great eagerness and industry; and his endeavours succeeded even beyond his expectation. The obstacle, in surmounting of which he found the greatest difficulty, was an inveterate habit of swearing, which had been indulged from her infancy, and confirmed by the example of those among whom she had lived. However, she had the rudiments of good sense from nature, which taught her to listen to wholesome advice, and was so docile as to comprehend and retain the lessons which her governor recommended to her attention; insomuch, that he ventured, in a few days, to present her at table, among a set of country squires, to whom she was introduced as niece to the lieutenant. In that capacity she sat with becoming easiness of mien, for she was as void of the mauvaise honte as any duchess in the land; bowed very graciously to the compliments of the gentlemen; and though she said little or nothing, because she was previously cautioned on that score, she more than once gave way to laughter, and her mirth happened to be pretty well timed. In a word, she attracted the applause and admiration of the guests, who, after she was withdrawn, complimented Mr. Hatchway upon the beauty, breeding, and good-humour of his kinswoman.
This extravagant plan he immediately began to carry out with great enthusiasm and hard work; and his efforts succeeded even beyond what he expected. The biggest challenge he faced was her deep-seated habit of swearing, which she had indulged in since childhood, encouraged by those around her. However, she naturally had a sense of good judgment that helped her listen to sound advice, and she was so eager to learn that she understood and remembered the lessons her guardian taught her. So much so that, after a few days, he felt confident enough to introduce her at dinner among a group of local gentlemen, presenting her as the lieutenant's niece. In that role, she carried herself with ease, showing none of the false modesty that might mark a duchess; she graciously acknowledged the compliments from the men, and while she spoke little because she had been advised to keep quiet, she laughed at the right moments, and her laughter was well-timed. In short, she drew praise and admiration from the guests, who, after she left, complimented Mr. Hatchway on the beauty, upbringing, and cheerful nature of his relative.
But what contributed more than any other circumstance to her speedy improvement, was some small insight into the primer, which she had acquired at a day-school, during the life of her father, who was a day-labourer in the country. Upon this foundation did Peregrine build a most elegant superstructure; he culled out choice sentences from Shakespeare, Otway, and Pope, and taught her to repeat them with an emphasis and theatrical cadence. He then instructed her in the names and epithets of the most celebrated players, which he directed her to pronounce occasionally, with an air of careless familiarity; and, perceiving that her voice was naturally clear, he enriched it with remnants of opera tunes, to be hummed during a pause in conversation, which is generally supplied with a circulation of a pinch of snuff. By means of this cultivation she became a wonderful proficient in the polite graces of the age; she, with great facility, comprehended the scheme of whist, though cribbage was her favourite game, with which she had amused herself in her vacant hours, from her first entrance into the profession of hopping; and brag soon grew familiar to her practice and conception.
But what helped her improve more than anything else was a little knowledge from her reading lessons, which she had picked up at a local school during her father’s life; he was a day laborer in the countryside. On this foundation, Peregrine built a beautiful structure; he selected impressive quotes from Shakespeare, Otway, and Pope, and taught her to recite them with emphasis and a dramatic flair. He then introduced her to the names and titles of the most famous actors, encouraging her to say them casually. Noticing that her voice was naturally clear, he enhanced it with bits of opera tunes to hum during pauses in conversation, which were usually filled by taking a pinch of snuff. Through this training, she became incredibly skilled in the social graces of the time; she easily grasped the rules of whist, although cribbage was her favorite game, which she had enjoyed during her free time since she started her career as a dancer; brag soon became a familiar part of her style and understanding.
Thus prepared, she was exposed to the company of her own sex, being first of all visited by the parson's daughter, who could not avoid showing that civility to Mr. Hatchway's niece, after she had made her public appearance at church. Mrs. Clover, who had a great share of penetration, could not help entertaining some doubts about this same relation, whose name she had never heard the uncle mention, during the whole term of her residence at the garrison. But as the young lady was treated in that character, she would not refuse her acquaintance; and, after having seen her at the castle, actually invited Miss Hatchway to her house. In short, she made a progress through almost all the families in the neighbourhood; and by dint of her quotations, which, by the bye, were not always judiciously used, she passed for a sprightly young lady, of uncommon learning and taste.
Prepared for this, she found herself spending time with other women, starting with the parson's daughter, who couldn't help but show respect to Mr. Hatchway's niece after her public appearance at church. Mrs. Clover, who was quite perceptive, had some doubts about this relation, whose name she had never heard the uncle mention during her entire stay at the garrison. However, since the young lady was treated as such, she didn't turn down the chance to get to know her; after meeting her at the castle, she even invited Miss Hatchway to her home. In short, she made her way through nearly all the families in the area, and thanks to her quotations—though not always used wisely—she was seen as a lively young woman with uncommon knowledge and taste.
Peregrine having in this manner initiated her in the beau monde of the country, conducted her to London, where she was provided with private lodgings and a female attendant; and put her immediately under the tuition of his valet-de-chambre, who had orders to instruct her in dancing, and the French language. He attended her to plays and concerts three or four times a week; and when our hero thought her sufficiently accustomed to the sight of great company, he squired her in person to a public assembly, and danced with her among all the gay ladies of fashion; not but that there was still an evident air of rusticity and awkwardness in her demeanour, which was interpreted into an agreeable wildness of spirit, superior to the forms of common breeding. He afterwards found means to make her acquainted with some distinguished patterns of her own sex, by whom she was admitted into the most elegant parties, and continued to make good her pretensions to gentility, with great circumspection. But one evening, being at cards with a certain lady whom she detected in the very fact of unfair conveyance, she taxed her roundly with the fraud, and brought upon herself such a torrent of sarcastic reproof, as overbore all her maxims of caution, and burst open the floodgates of her own natural repartee, twanged off with the appellation of b— and w—, which she repeated with great vehemence, in an attitude of manual defiance, to the terror of her antagonist, and the astonishment of all present; nay, to such an unguarded pitch was she provoked, that, starting up, she snapped her fingers, in testimony of disdain, and, as she quitted the room, applied her hand to that part which was the last of her that disappeared, inviting the company to kiss it by one of its coarsest denominations.
Peregrine, having introduced her to the high society of the countryside, took her to London, where she was given a private place to stay and a female companion. He immediately placed her under the guidance of his valet, who was instructed to teach her how to dance and speak French. He took her to plays and concerts three or four times a week. When he felt she was familiar enough with the presence of high-society people, he personally escorted her to a public gathering and danced with her among all the fashionable ladies, though she still showed a clear hint of awkwardness and rural charm in her behavior, which was seen as a refreshing wildness, rising above the norms of polite society. He later found a way to introduce her to some admirable women of her own kind, who welcomed her into the most refined gatherings, and she continued to uphold her claims to gentility with great care. However, one evening, while playing cards with a lady who she caught cheating, she boldly confronted her about it. This brought on a wave of sarcastic comments that overwhelmed her usual caution and unleashed her natural wit, where she passionately insulted the woman with harsh names, repeating them forcefully while defiantly gesturing, striking fear into her opponent and surprising everyone present. She became so frustrated that she jumped up, snapped her fingers in disdain, and as she left the room, she pointed at her behind, playfully inviting the guests to kiss it using one of its more vulgar names.
Peregrine was a little disconcerted at this oversight in her behaviour, which, by the demon of intelligence, was in a moment conveyed to all the private companies in town; so that she was absolutely excluded from all polite communication, and Peregrine, for the present, disgraced among the modest part of his female acquaintance, many of whom not only forbade him their houses, on account of the impudent insult he had committed upon their honour, as well as understanding, in palming a common trull upon them, as a young lady of birth and education; but also aspersed his family, by affirming that she was actually his own cousin-german, whom he had precipitately raised from the most abject state of humility and contempt. In revenge for this calumny, our young gentleman explained the whole mystery of her promotion, together with the motives that induced him to bring her into the fashionable world; and repeated among his companions the extravagant encomiums which had been bestowed upon her by the most discerning matrons of the age.
Peregrine was a bit unsettled by this slip in her behavior, which, thanks to the gossip mill, quickly spread to all the private groups in town; as a result, she was completely cut off from any polite interaction. Peregrine, for the time being, was disgraced among the respectable part of his female acquaintances, many of whom not only barred him from their homes due to the shameless insult he had inflicted on their honor and understanding by passing a common woman off as a young lady of good family and education, but also tarnished his family’s name by claiming she was actually his own cousin, whom he had hastily elevated from a position of utter humility and disgrace. In retaliation for this slander, our young man revealed the entire story behind her rise in status, along with the reasons that led him to introduce her to high society; he also recounted to his friends the extravagant praise that had been showered upon her by the most discerning matrons of the time.
Meanwhile, the infanta herself being rebuked by her benefactor for this instance of misbehaviour, promised faithfully to keep a stricter guard for the future over her conduct, and applied herself with great assiduity to the studies, in which she was assisted by the Swiss, who gradually lost the freedom of his heart, while she was profiting by his instruction. In other words, she made a conquest of her preceptor, who yielding to the instigations of the flesh, chose a proper opportunity to declare his passion, which was powerfully recommended by his personal qualifications; and his intentions being honourable, she listened to his proposals of espousing her in private. In consequence of this agreement, they made an elopement together; and, being buckled at the Fleet, consummated their nuptials in private lodgings, by the Seven Dials, from which the husband next morning sent a letter to our hero begging forgiveness for the clandestine step he had taken, which he solemnly protested was not owing to any abatement in his inviolable regard for his master, whom he should always honour and esteem to his latest breath, but entirely to the irresistible charms of the young lady, to whom he was now so happy as to be joined in the silken bonds of marriage.
Meanwhile, the infanta herself was scolded by her benefactor for this act of misbehavior and promised to keep a closer eye on her behavior in the future. She dedicated herself diligently to her studies, with help from the Swiss tutor, who gradually lost his heart while she benefited from his lessons. In other words, she won over her teacher, who, succumbing to his feelings, chose the right moment to confess his love, which was strongly backed by his personal qualities. His intentions were honorable, and she considered his proposals to marry in private. As a result of this agreement, they ran away together and were married at the Fleet, sealing their vows in a private room near the Seven Dials. The next morning, the husband sent a letter to our hero asking for forgiveness for the secretive step he had taken, which he solemnly insisted was not due to any decrease in his respect for his master, whom he would always honor and cherish until his last breath, but completely because of the irresistible charm of the young lady, to whom he was now happily united in the bonds of marriage.
Peregrine, though at first offended at his valet's presumption, was, upon second thoughts, reconciled to the event by which he was delivered from an encumbrance; for by this time he had performed his frolic, and began to be tired of his acquisition. He reflected upon the former fidelity of the Swiss, which had been manifested in a long course of service and attachment; and, thinking it would be cruelly severe to abandon him to poverty and distress for one venial trespass, he resolved to pardon what he had done, and enable him in some shape to provide for the family which he had entailed upon himself.
Peregrine, though initially annoyed by his valet's boldness, later came to appreciate the situation that freed him from a burden; by this point, he had enjoyed his adventure and was starting to grow weary of his new possession. He thought about the Swiss's loyalty, which had been shown through years of service and devotion; considering it would be harsh to leave him in poverty and hardship over a minor mistake, he decided to forgive him and find a way to help him support the family he had taken on.
With these sentiments, he sent a favourable answer to the delinquent, desiring to see him as soon as his passion should permit him to leave the arms of his spouse for an hour or two; and Hadgi, in obedience to this intimation, repaired immediately to the lodgings of his master, before whom he appeared with a most penitential aspect. Peregrine, though he could scarce help laughing at his rueful length of face, reprimanded him sharply, for his disrespect and ingratitude in taking that by stealth which he might have had for asking. The culprit assured him, that next to the vengeance of God, his master's displeasure was that which of all evils he dreaded to incur; but that love had distracted his brain in such a manner, as to banish every other consideration but that of gratifying his desire; and he owned, that he should not have been able to preserve his fidelity and duty to his own father, had they interfered with the interest of his passion. He then appealed to his master's own heart for the remission of his guilt, alluding to certain circumstances of our hero's conduct, which evinced the desperate effects of love. In short, he made such an apology as extorted a smile from his offended judge, who not only forgave his transgression, but also promised to put him in some fair way of earning a comfortable subsistence.
With these feelings, he sent a positive response to the offender, asking to see him as soon as his love allowed him to leave his wife's arms for an hour or two. Hadgi, following this message, immediately went to his master's place, appearing before him with a very remorseful look. Peregrine, though he could hardly contain his laughter at Hadgi's sorrowful expression, scolded him sharply for his disrespect and ingratitude in taking what he could have easily asked for. The offender assured him that next to God’s wrath, his master’s anger was the one thing he feared most; but love had so consumed him that all he could think of was satisfying his desire. He admitted that he wouldn’t have been able to stay faithful and loyal to his own father if it had conflicted with his passion. He then appealed to his master’s heart for forgiveness, referencing certain aspects of our hero's actions that showed the desperate effects of love. In short, he made such a heartfelt apology that it brought a smile to his upset judge, who not only forgave him but also promised to help him find a decent way to earn a living.
The Swiss was so much affected with this instance of generosity, that he fell upon his knees, and kissed his hand, praying to heaven, with great fervour, to make him worthy of such goodness and condescension. His scheme, he said, was to open a coffee-house and tavern in some creditable part of the town, in hopes of being favoured with the custom of a numerous acquaintance he had made among upper servants and reputable tradesmen, not doubting that his wife would be an ornament to his bar, and a careful manager of his affairs. Peregrine approved of the plan, towards the execution of which he made him and his wife a present of five hundred pounds, together with a promise of erecting a weekly club among his friends, for the reputation and advantage of the house.
The Swiss was so moved by this act of kindness that he fell to his knees and kissed his hand, fervently praying to heaven to make him deserving of such goodness and humility. He mentioned that his plan was to open a coffee shop and tavern in a respectable part of town, hoping to attract the patronage of many acquaintances he had among upper servants and reputable tradespeople, confident that his wife would be a great asset behind the bar and a diligent manager of their business. Peregrine supported the idea and gifted him and his wife five hundred pounds, along with a promise to create a weekly club among his friends to promote the reputation and success of the establishment.
Hadgi was so transported with his good fortune, that he ran to Pipes, who was in the room, and having hugged him with great cordiality, and made his obeisance to his master, hied him home to his bride, to communicate his happiness, cutting capers, and talking to himself all the way.
Hadgi was so overwhelmed with his good luck that he ran to Pipes, who was in the room, and hugged him warmly. After bowing to his master, he hurried home to his bride to share his joy, skipping and chatting to himself the whole way.
CHAPTER LXXXVIII.
He is visited by Pallet—Contracts an Intimacy with a Newmarket Nobleman, and is by the Knowing Ones taken in.
He is visited by Pallet—Forms a close relationship with a Newmarket nobleman, and is recognized by those in the know.
This affair being settled, and our adventurer, for the present, free of all female connections, he returned to his former course of fast living among the bucks of the town, and performed innumerable exploits among whores, bullies, rooks, constables, and justices of the peace. In the midst of these occupations, he was one morning visited by his old fellow-traveller, Pallet, whose appearance gave him equal surprise and concern. Though the weather was severe, he was clothed in the thin summer dress which he had worn at Paris, and was now, not only threadbare, but, in some parts, actually patched; his stockings, by a repetition of that practice known among economists by the term of coaxing, hung like pudding-bags about his ankles; his shirt, though new washed, was of the saffron hue, and, in divers places, appeared through the crannies of his breeches; he had exchanged his own hair for a smoke-dried tie-periwig, which all the flour in his dredging-box had not been able to whiten; his eyes were sunk, his jaws lengthened beyond their usual extension; and he seemed twenty years older than he looked when he and our hero parted at Rotterdam. In spite of all these evidences of decay, he accosted him with a meagre affectation of content and good-humour, struggled piteously to appear gay and unconcerned, professed his joy at seeing him in England, excused himself for having delayed so long to come and present his respects; alleging that, since his return, he had been a mere slave to the satisfaction of some persons of quality and taste, who had insisted upon his finishing some pieces with the utmost expedition.
This affair settled, and our adventurer, for the time being, free of all female connections, returned to his previous lifestyle of excess among the social elite of the town and engaged in countless exploits with prostitutes, toughs, scammers, cops, and local judges. One morning, in the midst of these activities, he was visited by his old travel companion, Pallet, whose appearance was both surprising and concerning. Despite the harsh weather, he was dressed in the thin summer clothes he had worn in Paris, which were not only threadbare but also patched in several places; his stockings, a result of a practice known among economists as "coaxing," hung around his ankles like pudding bags; his shirt, although freshly washed, had a yellowish hue and showed through the holes in his trousers; he had swapped his own hair for a smoke-dried wig, which no amount of flour could whiten; his eyes were sunken, his jawlines sagged more than usual, and he seemed twenty years older than when he and our hero parted in Rotterdam. Despite all these signs of decline, he greeted him with a weak pretense of contentment and good humor, trying hard to appear cheerful and carefree, expressed his happiness at seeing him in England, and apologized for taking so long to come and pay his respects, claiming that since his return, he had been a mere servant to the whims of certain notable and discerning individuals who had insisted he finish some projects as quickly as possible.
Peregrine received him with that compassion and complaisance which was natural to his disposition; inquired about the health of Mrs. Pallet and his family, and asked if his friend, the doctor, was in town. The painter seemed to have resumed his resentment against that gentleman, of whom he spoke in contemptuous terms. “The doctor,” said he, “is so much overshadowed with presumption and self-conceit, that his merit has no relief. It does not rise. There is no keeping in the picture, my dear sir. All the same as if I were to represent the moon under a cloud; there will be nothing but a deep mass of shade, with a little tiny speck of light in the middle, which would only serve to make, as it were, the darkness visible. You understand me. Had he taken my advice, it might have been better for him; but he is bigoted to his own opinion. You must know, Mr. Pickle, upon our return to England, I counselled him to compose a little smart, clever ode upon my Cleopatra. As Gad shall judge me, I thought it would have been of some service, in helping him out of obscurity; for you know, as Sir Richard observes,
Peregrine welcomed him with the kindness and politeness that came naturally to him, asked about Mrs. Pallet and his family’s health, and wanted to know if his friend, the doctor, was in town. The painter seemed to have picked up his grudge against that man, whom he spoke about with disdain. "The doctor," he said, "is so weighed down by arrogance and self-importance that his talent gets lost. It doesn’t rise above it. It’s like trying to include the moon in a painting that’s covered by clouds; all you’d see is a dark mass with just a tiny speck of light, which would only highlight the darkness. You see my point? If he had taken my advice, things might have turned out better for him, but he stubbornly clings to his own ideas. You should know, Mr. Pickle, when we returned to England, I suggested he write a clever little ode about my Cleopatra. I swear, I thought it could really help him escape obscurity; after all, as Sir Richard says,
“Soon will that die, which adds thy fame to mine;
Let me then live, join'd to a work of thine.”
“Soon, what brings your fame to mine will die;
Let me then live, connected to something of yours.”“By the bye, there is a most picturesque contrast in these lines, of thy and me, living and dying, and thine and mine. Ah! a prize upon it! Dick, after all, was the man. Ecod! he rounded it off. But, to return to this unhappy young man, would you believe it, he tossed up his nose at my friendly proposal, and gabbled something in Greek, which is not worth repeating. The case was this, my dear sir, he was out of humour at the neglect of the world. He thought the poets of the age were jealous of his genius, and strove to crush it accordingly, while the rest of mankind wanted taste sufficient to discern it. For my own part, I profess myself one of these; and, as the clown in Billy Shakespeare says of the courtier's oath, had I sworn by the doctor's genius, that the pancakes were naught, they might have been for all that very good, yet shouldn't I have been forsworn. Let that be as it will, he retired from town in great dudgeon, and set up his rest near a hill in Derbyshire, with two tops, resembling Parnassus, and a well at the bottom, which he had christened Hyp-o'-the-Green. Egad! if he stays in that habitation, 'tis my opinion he'll soon grow green with the hip indeed. He'll be glad of an opportunity to return to the fleshpots of Egypt, and pay his court to the slighted Queen Cleopatra. Ha! well remembered, by this light! you shall know, my good sir, that this same Egyptian princess has been courted by so many gallants of taste, that, as I hope to live, I found myself in some sort of dilemma, because in parting with her to one, I should have disobliged all his rivals. Now a man would not choose to give offence to his friends, at least I lay it down as a maxim to avoid the smallest appearance of ingratitude. Perhaps I may be in the wrong. But every man has his way. For this reason, I proposed to all the candidates, that a lottery or raffle should be set on foot, by which every individual would have an equal chance for her good graces, and the prize be left to the decision of fortune. The scheme was mightily relished, and the terms being such a trifle as half a guinea, the whole town crowded into my house, in order to subscribe. But there I was their humble servant. 'Gentlemen, you must have a little patience till my own particular friends are served.' Among that number, I do myself the honour to consider Mr. Pickle. Here is a copy of the proposals; and, if the list should be adorned with his name, I hope, notwithstanding his merited success among the young ladies, he will for once be shunned by that little vixen called Miss Fortune! he, he, he!”
“By the way, there's a really striking contrast in these lines, about you and me, living and dying, and yours and mine. Ah! What a prize it is! Dick, after all, was the man. Wow! He nailed it. But, back to this troubled young man, would you believe it? He turned his nose up at my friendly suggestion and rambled something in Greek that isn't worth repeating. The situation was this, my dear sir: he was in a bad mood because he felt neglected by the world. He thought the poets of this age were jealous of his talent and were trying to crush it, while everyone else lacked the taste to appreciate it. For my part, I admit I’m one of those; and, as the clown in Billy Shakespeare says about the courtier's oath, if I had sworn by the doctor's genius that the pancakes were terrible, they might have been very good, yet I would still have been perjured. Anyway, he left town in a huff and set up camp near a hill in Derbyshire, with two peaks that looked like Parnassus, and a spring at the bottom, which he named Hyp-o'-the-Green. Honestly! If he stays in that place, I think he’ll soon really start to feel down. He'll be itching to come back to the pleasures of the city and pay his respects to the overlooked Queen Cleopatra. Ha! Now that you mention it, let me tell you, my good sir, this same Egyptian princess has been pursued by so many gentlemen of taste that I found myself in quite a dilemma. By parting with her for one suitor, I would be upsetting all his rivals. Now, a guy wouldn't want to offend his friends; at least, I make it a rule to avoid any hint of ingratitude. Maybe I'm wrong. But everyone has their way. For this reason, I suggested to all the candidates that we hold a lottery or raffle, where everyone would have an equal chance to win her favor, and the outcome would be left to chance. The idea was hugely popular, and since the cost was just half a guinea, the whole town rushed to my house to join in. But there I was, their humble servant. ‘Gentlemen, please be patient until my own close friends are served first.’ Among them, I take pride in considering Mr. Pickle. Here’s a copy of the proposals; and if his name should be on the list, I hope that despite his deserved success with young ladies, he will for once be avoided by that little troublemaker called Miss Fortune! Ha, ha, ha!”
So saying, he bowed with a thousand apish congees, and presented his paper to Peregrine, who, seeing the number of subscribers was limited to one hundred, said he thought him too moderate in his expectations, as he did not doubt that his picture would be a cheap purchase at five hundred, instead of fifty pounds, at which the price was fixed. To this unexpected remark Pallet answered, that among the connoisseurs he would not pretend to appraise his picture; but that, in valuing his works, he was obliged to have an eye to the Gothic ignorance of the age in which he lived. Our adventurer saw at once into the nature of this raffle, which was no other than a begging shift to dispose of a paltry piece, that he could not otherwise have sold for twenty shillings. However, far from shocking the poor man in distress, by dropping the least hint of his conjecture, he desired to be favoured with six chances, if the circumstances of his plan would indulge him so far; and the painter, after some hesitation, condescended to comply with his request, out of pure friendship and veneration; though he observed, that, in so doing, he must exclude some of his most intimate companions. Having received the money he gave Pickle his address, desiring he would, with his convenience, visit the princess, who, he was sure, would display her most engaging attractions, in order to captivate his fancy; and took his leave extremely well pleased with the success of his application.
So saying, he bowed with countless exaggerated gestures and handed his paper to Peregrine, who noticed that the number of subscribers was limited to one hundred. He remarked that he thought Pallet was too modest in his expectations, as he believed his painting would be a steal at five hundred, rather than the fifty pounds it was priced at. In response to this unexpected comment, Pallet stated that he wouldn’t claim to evaluate his painting among connoisseurs; however, when it came to valuing his work, he had to consider the lack of awareness in the current age. Our adventurer quickly grasped the nature of this raffle, which was nothing more than a desperate attempt to sell a mediocre piece that he couldn't otherwise sell for twenty shillings. Nevertheless, rather than upsetting the poor man in distress by mentioning his suspicions, he requested six chances, if the circumstances of the plan allowed for it. The painter, after some hesitation, agreed to his request out of pure friendship and respect, though he noted that by doing so, he would have to leave out some of his closest friends. After receiving the money, he gave Pickle his address and asked him to visit the princess at his convenience, assured that she would show her most charming qualities to win his favor. He left, extremely pleased with the outcome of the interaction.
Though Peregrine was tempted with the curiosity of seeing this portrait, which he imagined must contain some analogy to the ridiculous oddity of the painter, he would not expose himself to the disagreeable alternative of applauding the performance, contrary to the dictates of conscience and common sense, or of condemning it, to the unspeakable mortification of the miserable author; and therefore never dreamt of returning the painter's visit. Nor did he ever hear of the lottery's being drawn. About this time he was invited to spend a few weeks at the country seat of a certain nobleman, with whom he had contracted an acquaintance, in the course of his debauches, which we have already described. His lordship being remarkable for his skill and success in horse-racing, his house was continually filled with the connoisseurs and admirers of that sport, upon which the whole conversation turned, insomuch that Peregrine gradually imbibed some knowledge in horse-flesh, and the diversions of the course; for the whole occupation of the day, exclusive of eating and drinking, consisted in viewing, managing, and exercising his lordship's stud.
Though Peregrine was curious to see the portrait, which he imagined must have some connection to the ridiculous eccentricity of the painter, he refused to put himself in the uncomfortable position of either praising the work against his better judgment or criticizing it, which would cause immense embarrassment to the unfortunate artist. So, he never thought about visiting the painter again. He also never heard about the lottery being drawn. Around this time, he was invited to spend a few weeks at a certain nobleman's country estate, with whom he had formed an acquaintance during his previous escapades, which we have already covered. This lord was known for his skill and success in horse racing, and his house was always filled with enthusiasts and fans of the sport, leading to conversations that revolved entirely around it. As a result, Peregrine slowly picked up some knowledge about horses and the excitement of the racetrack; his entire day, aside from eating and drinking, was spent observing, handling, and exercising his lordship's horses.
Our hero looked upon these amusements with an eye of taste as well as curiosity; he contemplated the animal as a beautiful and elegant part of the creation, and relished the surprising exertion of its speed with a refined and classical delight. In a little time he became personally acquainted with every horse in the stable, and interested himself in the reputation of each; while he also gratified his appetite for knowledge, in observing the methods of preparing their bodies, and training them to the race. His lordship saw and encouraged his eagerness, from which he promised himself some advantage; he formed several private matches for his entertainment, and flattered his discernment, by permitting him to be successful in the first bets he made. Thus was he artfully decoyed into a spirit of keenness and adventure, and disposed to depend upon his own judgment, in opposition to that of people who had made horse-racing the sole study of their lives. He accompanied my lord to Newmarket, and, entering at once into the genius of the place, was marked as fair game, by all the knowing ones there assembled, many of whom found means to take him in, in spite of all the cautions and admonitions of his lordship, who wanted to reserve him for his own use.
Our hero viewed these pastimes with both appreciation and curiosity; he saw the horse as a beautiful and graceful part of creation and enjoyed the thrill of its speed with a sophisticated delight. Before long, he got to know every horse in the stable and took an interest in each one's reputation while also satisfying his thirst for knowledge by watching how they were prepared and trained for racing. His lordship noticed and encouraged his enthusiasm, expecting to gain an advantage from it; he set up several private races for his entertainment and flattered him by letting him win his first bets. Thus, he was cleverly drawn into a sense of excitement and adventure, led to trust his own judgment over that of people who dedicated their lives to horse racing. He went with my lord to Newmarket and, quickly catching onto the vibe of the place, became a target for all the savvy gamblers there, many of whom found ways to take advantage of him despite all the warnings and advice from his lordship, who wanted to keep him for his own purposes.
It is almost impossible for any man, let him be never so fearful or phlegmatic, to be an unconcerned spectator in this busy scene. The demon of play hovers in the air, like a pestilential vapour, tainting the minds of all present with infallible infection, which communicates from one person to another, like the circulation of a general panic. Peregrine was seized with this epidemic distemper to a violent degree; and, after having lost a few loose hundreds, in his progress through the various rookeries of the place, entered into partnership with his noble friend in a grand match, upon the issue of which he ventured no less than three thousand pounds. Indeed he would not have risked such a considerable sum, had not his own confidence been reinforced by the opinion and concurrence of his lordship, who hazarded an equal bet upon the same event. These two associates engaged themselves in the penalty of six thousand pounds, to run one chaise and four against another, three times round the course; and our adventurer had the satisfaction of seeing his antagonist distanced in the first and second heat; but, all of a sudden, one of the horses of his machine was knocked up, by which accident the victory was ravished almost from his very grasp, and he was obliged to endure the damage and the scorn.
It’s nearly impossible for anyone, no matter how nervous or calm, to be an unaffected observer in this hectic scene. The thrill of gambling hangs in the air like a toxic cloud, infecting everyone present with an inevitable urge that spreads from one person to another, much like a wave of panic. Peregrine was struck hard by this infectious excitement; after losing a few hundred pounds as he navigated through the various gambling spots, he teamed up with his noble friend for a major bet, wagering no less than three thousand pounds. He wouldn’t have risked such a large sum if he hadn’t been bolstered by his lordship’s confidence, who also placed an equal bet on the same outcome. The two of them committed to a wager of six thousand pounds to race one four-horse carriage against another, three times around the track. Our adventurer was thrilled to see his opponent lagging behind in the first two rounds, but then, unexpectedly, one of his horses faltered, causing him to lose almost everything and endure the disappointment and ridicule.
He was deeply affected with this misfortune, which he imputed to his own extravagance and temerity; but discovered no external signs of affliction, because his illustrious partner bore his loss with the most philosophic resignation, consoling himself, as well as Pickle, with the hope of making it up on some other occasion. Nevertheless, our young gentleman could not help admiring, and even envying his equanimity, not knowing that his lordship had managed matters so as to be a gainer by the misfortune; which to retrieve, Peregrine purchased several horses, at the recommendation of his friend; and, instead of returning to London, made a tour with him to all the celebrated races in England, at which, after several vicissitudes of fortune, he made shift, before the end of the season, to treble his loss.
He was really impacted by this misfortune, which he blamed on his own extravagance and recklessness; however, he didn't show any outward signs of distress because his famous partner handled the loss with such philosophical calm, reassuring both himself and Pickle that they could recover on another occasion. Still, our young gentleman couldn't help but admire, and even envy, his composure, not realizing that his lordship had set things up to actually benefit from the misfortune. To make up for it, Peregrine bought several horses based on his friend's advice, and instead of going back to London, he embarked on a journey with him to all the major races in England, where, after facing various ups and downs, he managed to triple his losses by the end of the season.
But his hopes seemed to increase with his ill-luck. In the beginning of winter he came to town, fully persuaded that fortune must necessarily change, and that next season he should reap the happy fruits of his experience. In this confidence, he seemed to drown all ideas of prudence and economy. His former expense was mere parsimony, compared with that which he now incurred. He subscribed to the opera, and half a dozen concerts at different parts of the town; was a benefactor to several hospitals; purchased a collection of valuable pictures; took a house, and furnished it in a most magnificent taste, laid in a large stock of French wines, and gave extravagant entertainments to his quality friends, who, in return, loaded him with compliments, and insisted upon his making use of their interest and goodwill.
But his hopes seemed to grow even stronger despite his bad luck. At the start of winter, he arrived in town, fully convinced that his fortune had to change and that next season he would finally enjoy the benefits of his experiences. With this belief, he ignored all thoughts of caution and budgeting. His previous spending was nothing compared to what he was now throwing around. He signed up for the opera and half a dozen concerts throughout the town; he donated to several hospitals; he bought a collection of valuable paintings; he rented a house and decorated it in an incredibly lavish style, stocked up on a large supply of French wines, and hosted extravagant parties for his well-to-do friends, who, in return, heaped him with compliments and urged him to use their influence and goodwill.
CHAPTER LXXXIX.
He is taken into the Protection of a great Man—Sets up for a Member of Parliament—Is disappointed in his Expectation, and finds himself egregiously outwitted.
He is taken under the protection of a powerful man—tries to become a Member of Parliament—gets let down in his expectations, and discovers he's been thoroughly outsmarted.
Among these professed patrons, the greatest part of whom Peregrine saw through, there was one great personage, who seemed to support with dignity the sphere in which fortune had placed him. His behaviour to Pickle was not a series of grinning complaisance in a flat repetition of general expressions of friendship and regard. He demeaned himself with a seemingly honest reserve, in point of profession; his advances to Peregrine appeared to be the result of deliberation and experiment; he chid the young gentleman for his extravagance, with the authority of a parent, and the sincerity of a fast friend; and having, by gradual inquiries, made himself acquainted with the state of his private affairs, condemned his conduct with an air of candour and concern. He represented to him the folly and dangerous consequences of the profligate life in which he had plunged himself, counselled him with great warmth to sell off his race-horses, which would otherwise insensibly eat him up; to retrench all superfluous expense, which would only serve to expose him to the ridicule and ingratitude of those who were benefited by it; to lay out his money upon secure mortgages, at good interest; and carry into execution his former design of standing candidate for a borough, at the ensuing election for a new parliament; in which case this nobleman promised to assist him with his influence and advice; assuring him, that, if he could once procure a seat in the house, he might look upon his fortune as already made.
Among these so-called supporters, most of whom Peregrine saw through, there was one prominent individual who seemed to carry himself with dignity in the position fortune had given him. His demeanor towards Pickle was not just a series of forced smiles and generic expressions of friendship. He acted with an honest reserve in terms of his profession; his interactions with Peregrine seemed thoughtful and careful; he chastised the young man for his extravagant behavior, combining the authority of a parent with the sincerity of a close friend. After gradually learning about Peregrine's financial situation, he criticized his actions with genuine concern. He pointed out the foolishness and potential dangers of the reckless lifestyle he had gotten himself into, passionately advised him to sell his racehorses, which would otherwise slowly drain his resources, to cut back on unnecessary expenses that would only make him the target of ridicule and ingratitude from those he helped, to invest his money in secure mortgages with good returns, and to follow through on his earlier plan to run for a seat in the upcoming election for a new parliament. In that case, this nobleman promised to use his influence and offer guidance, assuring him that if he could secure a seat in the house, he could consider his fortune made.
Our adventurer perceiving the wisdom and sanity of this advice, for which he made his acknowledgments to his generous monitor, protested that he would adhere to it in every particular, and immediately set about a reformation. He accordingly took cognizance of his most minute affairs, and, after an exact scrutiny, gave his patron to understand, that, exclusive of his furniture, his fortune was reduced to fourteen thousand three hundred and thirty pounds, in Bank and South-sea annuities, over and above the garrison and its appendages, which he reckoned at sixty pounds a year. He therefore desired, that, as his lordship had been so kind as to favour him with his friendship and advice, he would extend his generosity still farther, by putting him in a way of making the most advantage of his money. My lord said, that, for his own part, he did not choose to meddle in money matters; that Mr. Pickle would find abundance of people ready to borrow it upon land security; but that he ought to be extremely cautious in a transaction of such consequence; promising, at the same time, to employ his own steward in seeking out a mortgager to whom it might be safely lent.
Our adventurer, realizing the wisdom and soundness of this advice, thanked his generous advisor and declared that he would follow it closely, immediately starting to make changes. He paid attention to even the smallest details and, after a thorough review, informed his patron that, excluding his belongings, his wealth was down to fourteen thousand three hundred and thirty pounds in Bank and South-Sea annuities, in addition to the garrison and its expenses, which he estimated at sixty pounds a year. He requested that, since his lordship had been so kind to offer him friendship and advice, he would extend his generosity further by helping him find the best way to invest his money. My lord responded that he didn’t want to get involved in financial matters; Mr. Pickle would find plenty of people willing to borrow it with land as collateral, but he should be very careful in such an important transaction. At the same time, he promised to have his own steward look for a trustworthy mortgagee to whom it could be safely lent.
This agent was accordingly set at work, and for a few days made a fruitless inquiry; so that the young gentleman was obliged to have recourse to his own intelligence, by which he got notice of several people of reputed credit, who offered him mortgages for the whole sum; but when he made a report of the particulars to his noble friend, his lordship started such doubts and objections relating to each, that he was deterred from entering into any engagements with the proposers; congratulating himself, in the meantime, on his good fortune, in being favoured with the advice and direction of such a sage counsellor. Nevertheless, he began to be impatient, after having unsuccessfully consulted all the money brokers and conveyancers about town, and resolved to try the expedient of a public advertisement. But he was persuaded by my lord to postpone that experiment, until every other method should have failed, because it would attract the attention of all the pettifoggers in London, who, though they might not be able to overreach, would infallibly harass and tease him out of all tranquility.
This agent got to work and spent a few days investigating without any results. So, the young man had to rely on his own smarts, which led him to several trustworthy people offering mortgages for the full amount. However, when he shared the details with his noble friend, his lordship raised so many doubts and concerns about each option that the young man was discouraged from making any commitments with those who had made offers. In the meantime, he congratulated himself for having the guidance and advice of such a wise counselor. Still, he began to feel impatient after consulting all the money brokers and conveyancers in town without success, and he decided to try placing a public advertisement. However, my lord convinced him to hold off on that idea until all other options had failed because it would draw in all the shady operators in London, who might not be able to trick him but would definitely bother and annoy him endlessly.
It was on the back of this conversation that Peregrine, chancing to meet the steward near his lord's house, stopped him in the street, to give him an account of his bad luck; at which the other expressed some concern, and rubbing his chin with his hand, in a musing posture, told Pickle, there was a thought just come into his head, pointing out one way of doing his business effectually. The youth, upon this intimation, begged he would accompany him to the next coffee-house, in which having chosen a private situation, this grave manager gave him to understand, that a part of my lord's estate was mortgaged, in consequence of a debt contracted by his grandfather, for provision to the younger children of the family; and that the equity of redemption would be foreclosed in a few months, unless the burden could be discharged. “My lord,” said he, “has always lived in a splendid manner, and, notwithstanding his ample fortune, together with the profits accruing from the posts he enjoys, he saves so little money, that, upon this occasion, I know he will be obliged to borrow ten thousand pounds to make up the sum that is requisite to redeem the mortgage. Now, certain I am, that, when his design comes to be known, he will be solicited on all hands by people desirous of lending money upon such undoubted security; and 'tis odds but he has already promised the preference to some particular acquaintance. However, as I know he has your interest very much at heart, I will, if you please, sound his lordship upon the subject, and in a day or two give you notice of my success.”
On the basis of this conversation, Peregrine unexpectedly ran into the steward near his lord's house and stopped him in the street to share some news about his bad luck. The steward expressed some concern, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and told Pickle that an idea had just come to him that might help solve his problem. The young man, encouraged by this suggestion, requested that the steward join him at the nearest coffee house. Once they settled into a private corner, the serious steward explained that part of the lord's estate was mortgaged due to a debt from his grandfather, which was taken out for the support of the younger children in the family. He warned that the right to redeem the property would be lost in a few months unless the debt was paid off. “My lord,” he said, “has always lived lavishly, and despite his considerable wealth and the income from his positions, he saves very little money. I know he’ll need to borrow ten thousand pounds to pay off the mortgage. I’m certain that once this situation becomes known, he’ll be approached by many people eager to lend him money on such secure terms, and it’s likely he has already promised some of his close friends the first chance to lend him. However, since I know he cares a lot about your interests, if you’d like, I can bring this up with him and let you know how it goes in a day or two.”
Peregrine, ravished with the prospect of settling this affair so much to his satisfaction, thanked the steward for his friendly hint and undertaking, which he assured him should be acknowledged by a more solid proof of his gratitude, provided the business could be brought to bear; and next day he was visited by this kind manager, with the happy news of his lordship's having consented to borrow ten thousand pounds of his stock upon mortgage, at the interest of five per cent. This information he received as an instance of the singular esteem of his noble patron; and the papers being immediately drawn and executed, the money was deposited in the hands of the mortgager, who, in the hearing of the lender, laid strong injunctions on his steward to pay the interest punctually at quarter-day.
Peregrine, thrilled at the prospect of finally resolving this issue to his satisfaction, thanked the steward for his helpful advice and assurance, which he promised would be rewarded with a more tangible expression of his gratitude, provided everything could be finalized. The next day, he was visited by this considerate manager, who brought the great news that his lordship had agreed to borrow ten thousand pounds from his stock on mortgage, at an interest rate of five percent. He saw this as a clear sign of his noble patron's esteem; and with the papers quickly prepared and signed, the money was handed over to the mortgager, who, in front of the lender, firmly instructed his steward to pay the interest promptly on quarter-day.
The best part of our hero's fortune being thus happily deposited, and the agent gratified with a present of fifty pieces, he began to put his retrenching scheme in execution; all his servants, Pipes excepted, were discharged, his chariot and running horses disposed of, his housekeeping broken up, and his furniture sold by auction: nay, the heat of his disposition was as remarkable in this as any other transaction in his life; for every step of his saving project was taken with such eagerness, and even precipitation, that most of his companions thought he was either ruined or mad. But he answered all their expostulations with a string of prudent apophthegms, such as, “The shortest follies are the best”; “Better to retrench upon conviction than compulsion”; and divers other wise maxims, seemingly the result of experience and philosophic reflection. To such a degree of enthusiasm did his present economy prevail, that he was actually seized with the desire of amassing. And as he every day received proposals from those brokers whom he had employed, about the disposal of his cash, he at length ventured fifteen hundred pounds upon bottomry, being tempted by the excessive premium.
The best part of our hero's fortune was safely secured, and after giving the agent a nice tip of fifty pieces, he started implementing his plan to cut back on expenses. He fired all his servants except for Pipes, sold his chariot and horses, ended his household upkeep, and auctioned off his furniture. The intensity of his determination was evident in this move, just like in everything else he did; every step of his savings plan was taken with such eagerness and even haste that most of his friends thought he was either broke or crazy. But he responded to all their concerns with a series of wise sayings, like, “The shortest follies are the best,” “It’s better to cut back when you choose to than when you have to,” and various other wise maxims that seemed backed by experience and deep thought. His enthusiasm for saving money became so strong that he actually wanted to accumulate even more. And since he was receiving daily offers from the brokers he had hired regarding ways to invest his money, he eventually decided to risk fifteen hundred pounds on bottomry, lured in by the high interest rate.
But it must be observed, for the honour of our adventurer, that this reformation did not at all interfere with the good qualities of his heart. He was still as friendly and benevolent as ever, though his liberality was more subject to the restraint of reason; and he might have justly pleaded, in vindication of his generosity, that he retrenched the superfluities in his own way of living, in order to preserve the power of assisting his fellow-creatures in distress. Numberless were the objects to which he extended his charity in private. Indeed, he exerted this virtue in secret, not only on account of avoiding the charge of ostentation, but also because he was ashamed of being detected in such an awkward unfashionable practice, by the censorious observers of this humane generation. In this particular, he seemed to confound the ideas of virtue and vice; for he did good, as other people do evil, by stealth; and was so capricious in point of behaviour, that frequently, in public, he wagged his tongue in satirical animadversions upon that poverty which his hand had in private relieved. Yet, far from shunning the acquaintance, or discouraging the solicitation of those who, he thought, wanted his assistance, he was always accessible, open, and complaisant to them, even when the haughtiness of his temper kept his superiors at a distance; and often saved a modest man the anguish and confusion of declaring himself, by penetrating into his necessity, and anticipating his request, in a frank offer of his purse and friendship. Not that he practised this beneficence to all the needy of his acquaintance without distinction; there is always a set of idle profligate fellows, who, having squandered away their own fortunes, and conquered all sense of honour and shame, maintain themselves by borrowing from those who have not yet finished the same career, and want resolution to resist their importunate demands. To these he was always inflexible; though he could not absolutely detach himself from their company, because, by dint of effrontery, and such of their original connections as they have been able to retain, they find admission to all places of fashionable resort.
But it should be noted, for the sake of our adventurer's reputation, that this change did not affect the good qualities of his heart at all. He remained as friendly and generous as ever, although his willingness to give was now more guided by reason. He could rightly argue that by cutting back on his own luxuries, he was able to preserve the ability to help others in need. He privately supported countless causes. In fact, he practiced this virtue in secret, not just to avoid accusations of showiness, but also because he felt embarrassed to be caught in such an awkward, unfashionable habit by the judgmental onlookers of this kind generation. In this respect, he seemed to confuse the ideas of virtue and vice; he did good in a sneaky way, similar to how others do wrong, and he could be so unpredictable that he often criticized the poverty he had helped in private. Yet, he didn’t shy away from the company of those who he believed needed his help; he was always approachable, open, and accommodating to them, even when his pride kept his social betters at a distance. He often spared a modest person the embarrassment of asking for help by recognizing their need and offering his support and friendship before they even had to ask. However, he didn't extend this kind generosity to all the needy he knew without distinction; there are always a number of lazy, reckless individuals who have wasted their own fortunes and lost all sense of honor and shame, relying on borrowing from those who haven’t yet gone down the same path and who lack the resolve to resist their persistent pleas. He was always tough towards them; although he couldn't completely distance himself from their company since, through sheer boldness and the connections they managed to keep, they gained entry to all the trendy spots.
Several unsuccessful attacks had been made upon his pocket by beggars of this class. One of the most artful of them, having one day joined him in the Mall, and made the usual observation on the weather, d—d all the fogs of London, and began a dissertation on the difference of air, preferring that of the country in which he was born to any climate under the sun. “Were you ever in Gloucestershire?” said he to Peregrine; who replying in the negative, he thus went on: “I have got a house there, where I should be glad to see you. Let us go down together during the Easter holidays; I can promise you good country fare and wholesome exercise; for I have everything within myself, and as good a pack of fox-hounds as any in the three kingdoms. I shan't pretend to expatiate upon the elegance of the house, which to be sure is an old building; and these, you know, are generally cold, and not very convenient. But, curse the house! the dirty acres about it are the thing; and d—d fine parcel they are to be sure. If my old grandmother was dead—she can't live another season, for she's turned of fourscore, and quite worn out: nay, as for that matter, I believe I have got a letter in my pocket, giving an account of her being despaired of by the doctors. Let me see—No, d— it! I left it at home, in the pocket of another coat.”
Several unsuccessful attempts had been made to pick his pocket by beggars of this sort. One of the craftiest among them, one day joining him in the park and making the usual comment about the weather, cursed all the fogs of London and started talking about the difference in air, claiming he preferred the country air where he was born to any climate around the world. “Have you ever been to Gloucestershire?” he asked Peregrine, who replied no, and then continued: “I have a house there, and I’d love to show it to you. Let’s go down together during the Easter holidays; I can promise you good country food and some healthy exercise, since I have everything you need, including a great pack of foxhounds, the best in the three kingdoms. I won’t brag about the house itself, which, to be fair, is pretty old; and old houses are usually cold and a bit inconvenient. But forget about the house! The filthy land around it is what really matters, and it's quite a nice piece of property, for sure. If my old grandmother were to pass away—well, she can’t last another season since she’s over eighty and totally worn out. In fact, I think I have a letter in my pocket that says the doctors have given up on her. Let me check—no, darn it! I left it at home in the pocket of another coat.”
Pickle, who, from the beginning of this harangue, saw its tendency, seemed to yield the most serious attention to what he said: breaking in upon it, every now and then, with the interjections, hum! ha! the deuce! and several civil questions, from which the other conceived happy omens of success; till perceiving they had advanced as far as the passage into St. James's, the mischievous youth interrupted him all at once, saying, “I see you are for the end of the walk; this is my way.” With these words he took leave of the saunterer, who would have delayed his retreat, by calling to him aloud, that he had not yet described the situation of his castle. But Peregrine, without stopping, answered in the same tone, “Another time will do as well”; and in a moment disappeared, leaving the projector very much mortified with his disappointment; for his intention was to close the description with a demand of twenty pieces, to be repaid out of the first remittance he should receive from his estate.
Pickle, who had noticed the direction of this speech from the start, seemed to pay serious attention to what was being said, occasionally chiming in with interjections like, “Hmm! Ha! Good grief!” and a few polite questions, which gave the other person some hopeful signs of success. But when they reached the entrance to St. James's, the mischievous young man suddenly interrupted, saying, “I see you're headed towards the end of the walk; this is my way.” With that, he bid farewell to the strolls, even though the other person tried to keep him from leaving by calling out that he hadn't yet described where his castle was located. But Peregrine, without pausing, replied in a similar tone, “Another time will do just fine,” and quickly disappeared, leaving the planner feeling quite defeated, as his goal had been to wrap up the description by asking for twenty pieces to be repaid from the first payment he received from his estate.
It would have been well for our hero, had he always acted with the same circumspection. But he had his unguarded moments, in which he fell a prey to the unsuspecting integrity of his own heart. There was a person among the number of his acquaintances, whose conversation he particularly relished, because it was frank, agreeable, and fraught with many sensible observations upon the craft and treachery of mankind. This gentleman had made shift to discuss a very genteel fortune, though it was spent with taste and reputation, and now he was reduced to his shifts for the maintenance of his family, which consisted of a wife and child. Not that he was destitute of the necessaries of life, being comfortably supplied by the bounty of his friends; but this was a provision not at all suited to his inclination; and he had endeavoured, by divers unsuccessful schemes, to retrieve his former independency.
It would have been better for our hero if he had always acted with the same caution. But he had his moments of weakness, where he became a victim of the unsuspecting honesty of his own heart. There was someone among his acquaintances whose conversations he particularly enjoyed because they were straightforward, pleasant, and filled with insightful comments on the deceit and trickery of people. This man had managed to maintain a rather respectable lifestyle, though it was spent with taste and good reputation, and now he was struggling to support his family, which included a wife and child. It’s not that he lacked the essentials for living—he was comfortably provided for by the generosity of his friends—but this arrangement didn’t suit his preferences at all, and he had tried several unsuccessful plans to regain his independence.
Peregrine happened one evening to be sitting alone in a coffee-house, where he overheard a conversation between this schemer and another gentleman, touching an affair that engaged his attention. The stranger had been left trustee for fifteen hundred pounds bequeathed to the other's daughter by an aunt, and was strongly solicited to pay the money to the child's father, who assured him, he had then an opportunity to lay it out in such a manner as would greatly conduce to the advantage of his family. The trustee reminded him of the nature of his charge, which made him accountable for the money until the child should have attained the age of eighteen; but at the same time gave him to understand, that, if he could procure such security as would indemnify him from the consequences, he would forthwith pay the legacy into his hands. To this proposal the father replied that it was not to be supposed he would risk the fortune of his only child upon any idle scheme or precarious issue; and therefore he thought it reasonable, that he should have the use of it in the meantime; and that, as to security, he was loth to trouble any of his friends about an affair which might be compromised without their interposition; observing, that he would not look upon his condescension as a favour, if obtained by security, on which he could borrow the same sum from any usurer in town.
Peregrine happened to be sitting alone in a coffee house one evening when he overheard a conversation between this schemer and another man about a matter that caught his interest. The stranger had been made the trustee for fifteen hundred pounds left to the other's daughter by an aunt, and he was being pressurized to pay the money to the child's father, who assured him he had a way to invest it that would greatly benefit his family. The trustee reminded him of his responsibility, which required him to keep the money safe until the child turned eighteen; however, he implied that if he could get some security to protect himself from any fallout, he would pay the legacy into his hands right away. The father responded that he wouldn’t risk his only child's fortune on some dubious or uncertain scheme, so he thought it was fair that he could use the money in the meantime. Regarding security, he was reluctant to bother any of his friends about a situation that could be resolved without their involvement, stating that he wouldn’t consider it a favor if it required collateral, since he could borrow the same amount from any lender in town.
After much importunity on one side, and evasion on the other, the moneyed gentleman told him, that, though he would not surrender the sum deposited in his hands for the use of his daughter, he would lend him what he should have occasion for in the meantime; and if, upon her being of age, he should be able to obtain her concurrence, the money should be placed to her account, provided he could find any person of credit, who would join with him in a bond, for the assurance of the lender. This proviso was an obstruction which the other would not have been able to surmount, without great difficulty, had not his cause been espoused by our hero, who thought it was a pity a man of honour and understanding should suffer in his principal concerns on such a paltry consideration. He therefore, presuming on his acquaintance, interposed in the conversation as a friend, who interested himself in the affair; and, being fully informed of the particulars, offered himself as a security for the lender. This gentleman being a stranger to Peregrine, was next day made acquainted with his funds; and, without further scruple, accommodated his friend with one thousand pounds, for which he took their bond payable in six months, though he protested that the money should never be demanded, until the infant should be of age, unless some accident should happen which he could not then foresee. Pickle believed this declaration sincere, because he could have no interest in dissembling; but what he chiefly depended upon, for his own security, was the integrity and confidence of the borrower, who assured him, that happen what would, he should be able to stand between him and all danger; the nature of his plan being such as would infallibly treble the sum in a very few months.
After a lot of pushing on one side and avoiding on the other, the wealthy man told him that, while he wouldn’t give up the money he had set aside for his daughter, he would lend him whatever he needed in the meantime. And if, when she turned 18, he could get her agreement, the money would be credited to her account, provided he could find a trustworthy person to co-sign a bond for the lender. This condition was a hurdle the other man wouldn’t have been able to get over without considerable effort, if it weren’t for our hero, who felt it was a shame for an honorable and smart man to struggle with his main issues over something so trivial. So, taking a chance on their friendship, he stepped into the conversation as a supportive ally who cared about the matter. Fully aware of the details, he offered to act as a guarantor for the lender. The gentleman, who didn’t know Peregrine beforehand, learned about his financial resources the next day and, without hesitation, lent his friend one thousand pounds, for which he took their bond due in six months, although he insisted that the money wouldn’t be called in until the girl came of age, unless something unexpected happened that he couldn’t foresee. Pickle believed this promise was genuine, as the man had no reason to lie; but what he mainly relied on for his own protection was the honesty and trustworthiness of the borrower, who assured him that no matter what happened, he would shield him from any risk, claiming that his plan would definitely triple the amount in just a few months.
In a little time after this transaction, writs being issued out for electing a new parliament, our adventurer, by the advice of his patron, went into the country, in order to canvass for a borough, and lined his pockets with a competent share of banknotes for the occasion. But in this project he unfortunately happened to interfere with the interest of a great family in the opposition, who, for a long series of years, had made members for that place; and were now so much offended at the intrusion of our young gentleman, that they threatened to spend ten thousand pounds in frustrating his design. This menace was no other than an incitement to Peregrine, who confided so much in his own influence and address, that he verily believed he should be able to baffle his grace, even in his own territories. By that victory he hoped to establish his reputation and interest with the minister, who, through the recommendation of his noble friend, countenanced his cause, and would have been very well pleased to see one of his great enemies suffer such a disgraceful overthrow, which would have, moreover, in a great measure, shaken his credit with his faction.
Shortly after this event, writs were issued for electing a new parliament. Our adventurer, following his patron's advice, went into the countryside to campaign for a borough and filled his pockets with a good amount of banknotes for the occasion. Unfortunately, he ran into trouble with a prominent family in the opposition, which had long secured members for that area. They were so offended by his intrusion that they threatened to spend ten thousand pounds to thwart his plans. This threat only motivated Peregrine, who believed in his own charm and influence so much that he thought he could outmaneuver his opponent even in their own stronghold. He hoped that winning this battle would bolster his reputation and support with the minister, who, due to his noble friend's recommendation, backed his cause and would have been very happy to see one of his major rivals face such a humiliating defeat, which would also significantly undermine the rival's standing with his faction.
Our hero, intoxicated with the ideas of pride and ambition, put all his talents to the test, in the execution of this project. He spared no expense in treating the electors; but, finding himself rivalled in this respect by his competitor, who was powerfully supported, he had recourse to those qualifications in which he thought himself superior. He made balls for the ladies, visited the matrons of the corporation, adapted himself to their various humours with surprising facility, drank with those who loved a cherishing cup in private, made love to the amorous, prayed with the religious, gossiped with those who delighted in scandal, and with great sagacity contrived agreeable presents to them all. This was the most effectual method of engaging such electors as were under the influence of their wives. As for the rest, he assailed them in their own way, setting whole hogsheads of beer and wine abroach, for the benefit of comers; and into those sordid hearts that liquor would not open, he found means to convey himself by the help of a golden key.
Our hero, caught up in pride and ambition, pushed all his skills to the limit to make this project happen. He spared no expense to impress the voters, but when he saw that his rival, who had powerful backing, was doing the same, he turned to the talents he believed he excelled at. He organized parties for the ladies, visited the wives of the influential, adapted to their moods with surprising ease, shared drinks with those who preferred a private toast, flirted with the romantics, prayed with the faithful, gossiped with the scandal lovers, and cleverly picked out gifts for all of them. This was the most effective way to win over those voters swayed by their wives. For the others, he catered to their tastes by tapping barrels of beer and wine for everyone to enjoy; and for those tight-fisted individuals who wouldn’t let booze in, he found a way to their hearts with a little money.
While he thus exerted himself, his antagonist was not idle: his age and infirmities would not permit him to enter personally into their parties; but his stewards and adherents bestirred themselves with great industry and perseverance. The market for votes ran so high, that Pickle's ready money was exhausted before the day of election, and he was obliged to write to his patron an account of the dilemma to which he was reduced, entreating him to take such speedy measures as would enable him to finish the business which he had so happily begun. This nobleman communicated the circumstances of the case to the minister, and in a day or two our candidate found credit with the receiver-general of the county, who lent him twelve hundred pounds on his personal note, payable on demand. By means of this new supply he managed matters so successfully, that an evident majority of votes was secured in his interest, and nothing could have obstructed his election, had not the noble peer who set up his competitor, in order to avoid the shame and mortification of being foiled in his own borough, offered to compromise the affair with his honour, by giving up two members in another place, provided the opposition should cease in his own corporation. This proposal was greedily embraced. On the eve of the election, Peregrine received an intimation from his patron, desiring him to quit his pretensions, on pain of his and the minister's displeasure, and promising that he should be elected for another place.
While he was working hard, his opponent wasn’t sitting still either: his age and health issues kept him from personally joining their efforts, but his managers and supporters worked tirelessly. The competition for votes became so intense that Pickle ran out of cash before election day, forcing him to write to his patron about the tough spot he was in, begging him to take quick action so he could complete the task he had started so successfully. This nobleman relayed the situation to the minister, and within a couple of days, our candidate was able to get a loan of twelve hundred pounds from the county's receiver-general, secured on his personal note and payable on demand. With this new funding, he handled things so well that he clearly had a majority of votes in his favor, and nothing could have stopped his election, except that the noble lord who supported his rival, in order to avoid the embarrassment of losing in his own borough, offered to make a deal with his honor by giving up two members in another area if the opposition would halt in his own corporation. This offer was eagerly accepted. On the eve of the election, Peregrine got a message from his patron, telling him to drop his candidacy, threatening both his and the minister's displeasure, and promising that he would be elected for another area instead.
No other disappointment in life could have given him such chagrin as he felt at the receipt of this tantalizing order, by which the cup of success was snatched from his lip, and all the vanity of his ambitious hope humbled in the dust. He cursed the whole chain of his court connections, inveighed with great animosity against the rascally scheme of politics to which he was sacrificed, and, in conclusion, swore he would not give up the fruits of his own address for the pleasure of any minister upon earth. This laudable resolution, however, was rendered ineffectual by his friend the receiver-general, who was bearer of the message, and, after having in vain endeavoured to persuade him to submission, fairly arrested him upon the spot for the money he had advanced; this expedient being performed by virtue of a writ which he had been advised to take out, in case the young man should prove refractory.
No other disappointment in life could have caused him as much distress as receiving this frustrating order, which took success away from him and crushed all his ambitious hopes. He cursed all his connections at court, railed against the corrupt political scheme that betrayed him, and ultimately vowed he wouldn't sacrifice his hard work for the satisfaction of any minister on earth. However, this admirable resolve was ineffective thanks to his friend, the receiver-general, who brought the message. After trying in vain to convince him to comply, he ended up arresting him on the spot for the money he had lent, using a writ he had been advised to obtain in case the young man refused to cooperate.
The reader, who by this time must be pretty well acquainted with the disposition of our hero, may easily conceive how he relished this adventure. At first, all the faculties of his soul were swallowed up in astonishment and indignation; and some minutes elapsed before his nerves would obey the impulse of his rage, which manifested itself in such an application to the temples of the plaintiff, as laid him sprawling on the floor. This assault, which was committed in a tavern, whither he had been purposely decoyed, attracted the regard of the bailiff and his followers, who, to the number of four, rushed upon him at once, in order to overpower him; but his wrath inspired him with such additional strength and agility, that he disengaged himself from them in a trice, and, seizing a poker, which was the first weapon that presented itself to his hand, exercised it upon their skulls with incredible dexterity and execution. The officer himself, who had been the first that presumed to lay violent hands upon him, felt the first effects of his fury in a blow upon the jaws, in consequence of which he lost three of his teeth, and fell athwart the body of the receiver, with which he formed the figure of a St. Andrew's cross. One of his myrmidons, seeing the fate of his chief, would not venture to attack the victor in front, but, wheeling to one side, made an attempt upon him in flank, and was received obliquely by our hero's left hand and foot, so masterly disposed to the right side of his leg, and the left side of his neck, that he bolted head foremost into the chimney, where his chin was encountered by the grate, which in a moment seared him to the bone. The rest of the detachment did not think proper to maintain the dispute, but, evacuating the room with great expedition, locked the door on the outside, and bellowed aloud to the receiver's servants, beseeching them to come to the assistance of their master, who was in danger of his life.
The reader, who by now should be pretty familiar with our hero's personality, can easily imagine how he felt about this adventure. At first, he was totally stunned and angry; it took him a few minutes before he could channel his rage into action, which resulted in him delivering a blow to the plaintiff's temples that knocked him to the floor. This attack, which happened in a tavern where he had been lured on purpose, caught the attention of the bailiff and his followers. Four of them rushed at him at once to try to subdue him, but his anger gave him extra strength and agility, allowing him to break free in no time. Grabbing a poker, the first weapon he could find, he skillfully used it on their heads with incredible accuracy. The bailiff, who was the first to lay hands on him, was the first to feel the effects of his wrath, taking a hit to the jaw that knocked out three of his teeth and sent him sprawling over the body of the receiver, creating a pose reminiscent of St. Andrew's cross. One of the bailiff's men, seeing what happened to their leader, didn't dare to attack him head-on but instead tried to come at him from the side. Our hero met this attack skillfully with his left hand and foot, sending the attacker headfirst into the chimney, where his chin struck the grate, severely injuring him. The rest of the group didn’t feel it was smart to continue the fight; they quickly left the room, locked the door from the outside, and shouted for the receiver's servants, begging them to come help their master, who was in danger of losing his life.
Meanwhile, this gentleman having recollected himself, demanded a parley; which having with difficulty obtained of our incensed candidate, in consequence of the most submissive application, he complained grievously of the young gentleman's intemperance and heat of disposition, and very calmly represented the danger of his rashness and indiscretion. He told him, that nothing could be more outrageous or idle, than the resistance he had made against the laws of his country, because he would find it impracticable to withstand the whole executive power of the country, which he could easily raise to apprehend and secure him; that, over and above the disgrace that would accrue to him from this imprudent conduct, he would knock his own interest on the head, by disobliging his friends in the administration, who were, to his knowledge, at present very well disposed to do him service; that, for his own part, what he had done was by the express order of his superiors, and not out of any desire of distressing him; and that, far from being his enemy, notwithstanding the shocking insult he had sustained, he was ready to withdraw the writ, provided he would listen to any reasonable terms of accommodation.
Meanwhile, this gentleman collected himself and asked for a meeting; after some effort, our angry candidate accepted, thanks to the most humble request. He complained bitterly about the young man's excessive temper and impulsiveness, and calmly pointed out the danger of his recklessness and poor judgment. He told him that nothing could be more outrageous or foolish than resisting the laws of his country, as he would find it impossible to stand against the full authority of the government, which could easily be mobilized to arrest and detain him. Furthermore, he warned that aside from the shame that would come from this unwise behavior, he would be jeopardizing his own interests by upsetting his friends in the administration, who were, as he knew, currently very inclined to help him. He added that what he had done was by the direct order of his superiors and not out of any desire to cause him distress; and that despite the shocking insult he had received, he was willing to withdraw the writ if the young man would consider any reasonable terms for resolution.
Peregrine, who was not more prone to anger than open to conviction, being appeased by his condescension, moved by his arguments, and chid by his own reflection for what he had done in the precipitation of his wrath, began to give ear to his remonstrances; and the bailiffs being ordered to withdraw, they entered into a conference, the result of which was our adventurer's immediate departure for London; so that next day his competitor was unanimously chosen, because nobody appeared to oppose his election. The discontented Pickle, on his arrival in town, went directly to the house of his patron, to whom, in the anguish of his disappointment, he bitterly complained of the treatment he had received, by which, besides the disgrace of his overthrow, he was no less than two thousand pounds out of pocket, exclusive of the debt for which he stood engaged to the receiver. His lordship, who was prepared for this expostulation, on his knowledge of the young man's impetuous temper, answered all the articles of his charge with great deliberation, giving him to understand the motives that induced the minister to quit his interest in that borough; and soothing him with assurances that his loss would be amply rewarded by his honour, to whom he was next day introduced by this nobleman, in the warmest style of recommendation. The minister, who was a pattern of complaisance, received him with the most engaging affability; thanked him very kindly for his endeavours to support and strengthen the interest of the administration; and faithfully promised to lay hold on the first opportunity to express the sense he had of his zeal and attachment; desiring to see him often at his levee, that, in the multiplicity of business, he might not be in danger of forgetting his services and desert.
Peregrine, who was just as likely to be convinced as he was to get angry, calmed down due to the other person's condescension and was swayed by their arguments. He also felt guilty about how he reacted in his anger and started to listen to the other person's concerns. With the bailiffs sent away, they had a discussion, which led to our adventurer's quick decision to head to London. The next day, his rival was chosen unanimously since no one opposed him. Upon arriving in town, the unhappy Pickle went straight to his patron's home and, overwhelmed by his disappointment, fiercely complained about how he had been treated. Besides feeling humiliated by his defeat, he was also out two thousand pounds, not counting the debt he owed to the receiver. His lordship, anticipating this confrontation because he knew the young man had a fiery temper, responded calmly to all his complaints. He explained the reasons that led the minister to step back from his support in that borough and reassured him that his loss would be compensated by the honor he would receive, to which he would be introduced the next day in the highest terms of recommendation. The minister, known for his politeness, welcomed him with warmth, thanked him sincerely for his efforts to support the administration, and promised to take advantage of the first opportunity to acknowledge his dedication. He expressed a desire to see him often at his levee, so that amidst all the busy work, he wouldn’t forget his contributions and loyalty.
CHAPTER XC.
Peregrine commences Minister's Dependant—Meets by Accident with Mrs. Gauntlet—And descends gradually in the Condition of Life.
Peregrine starts as a Minister's Dependent—Runs into Mrs. Gauntlet by chance—And gradually falls in social status.
This reception, favourable as it was, did not please Peregrine, who had too much discernment to be cajoled with general promises, at a time when he thought himself entitled to the most particular assurance. He accordingly signified his disgust to his introductor, giving him to understand, that he had laid his account with being chosen representative of one of those boroughs for which he had been sacrificed. His lordship agreed to the reasonableness of his expectation, observing, however, that he could not suppose the minister would enter upon business with him on his first visit; and that it would be time enough at his next audience to communicate his demand. Notwithstanding this remonstrance, our hero continued to indulge his suspicion and chagrin, and even made a point of it with his patron, that his lordship should next day make application on his behalf, lest the two seats should be filled up, on pretence of his inclinations being unknown. Thus importuned, my lord went to his principal, and returned with an answer, importing that his honour was extremely sorry that Mr. Pickle had not signified his request before the boroughs in question were promised to two gentlemen whom he could not now disappoint, with any regard to his own credit or interest; but, as several persons who would be chosen were, to his certain knowledge, very aged and infirm, he did not doubt that there would be plenty of vacant seats in a very short time, and then, the young gentleman might depend upon his friendship.
This reception, as positive as it was, didn't sit well with Peregrine, who was too perceptive to be swayed by vague promises, especially when he felt he deserved a more specific assurance. He expressed his displeasure to his introducer, indicating that he had expected to be chosen as the representative for one of the boroughs he had sacrificed for. His lordship agreed that his expectations were reasonable but noted that he couldn’t imagine the minister would start discussing business on his first visit, and that it would be better to address his request at the next meeting. Despite this advice, our hero continued to harbor suspicion and frustration, insisting to his patron that his lordship should apply on his behalf the following day, lest the two seats be filled under the pretext of his intentions being unclear. Pressured by this, my lord approached the minister and returned with a reply stating that his honor was very sorry Mr. Pickle hadn’t made his request known before the boroughs were promised to two gentlemen he couldn’t now let down without damaging his own reputation or interests. However, he mentioned that several individuals who might be elected were, to his knowledge, quite old and unwell, so he believed there would be plenty of vacant seats soon, and the young gentleman could count on his support then.
Peregrine was so much irritated at this intimation, that, in the first transports of his anger he forgot the respect he owed his friend, and in his presence inveighed against the minister, as a person devoid of gratitude and candour, protesting, that if ever an opportunity should offer itself, he would spend the whole remains of his fortune in opposing his measures. The nobleman having given him time to exhaust the impetuosity of his passion, rebuked him very calmly for his disrespectful expressions, which were equally injurious and indiscreet; assured him that this project of revenge, if ever put in execution, would redound to his own prejudice and confusion; and advised him to cultivate and improve, with patience and assiduity, the footing he had already obtained in the minister's good graces.
Peregrine was so irritated by this hint that, in the heat of his anger, he forgot the respect he owed his friend and criticized the minister in front of him, calling him ungrateful and dishonest. He declared that if he ever got the chance, he would spend all of his remaining fortune to oppose the minister’s plans. The nobleman waited for him to calm down before calmly rebuking him for his disrespectful comments, which were both harmful and reckless. He assured Peregrine that pursuing revenge would only harm him and advised him to patiently and diligently strengthen the relationship he had already built with the minister.
Our hero, convinced of the truth, though not satisfied with the occasion of his admonitions, took his leave in a fit of sullen discontent, and began to ruminate upon the shattered posture of his affairs. All that now remained of the ample fortune he had inherited was the sum he had deposited in his lordship's hands, together with fifteen hundred pounds he had ventured on bottomry, and the garrison, which he had left for the use and accommodation of the lieutenant; and, on the per contra side of his account, he was debtor for the supply he had received from the receiver-general, and the money for which he was bound in behalf of his friend; so that he found himself, for the first time of his life, very much embarrassed in his circumstances. For, of the first half-year's interest of his ten thousand, which was punctually paid, he had but fourscore pounds in bank, without any prospect of a farther supply till the other term, which was at the distance of four long months. He seriously reflected upon the uncertainty of human affairs: the ship with his fifteen hundred pounds might be lost; the gentleman for whom he was security might miscarry in this, as well as in his former projects, and the minister might one day, through policy or displeasure, expose him to the mercy of his dependant, who was in possession of his notes.
Our hero, convinced of the truth but not happy about the reasons for his warnings, left in a mood of gloomy discontent and began to think about the messed-up state of his life. All that remained of the considerable fortune he had inherited was the amount he had put in his lordship's hands, plus fifteen hundred pounds he had risked on a loan, and the garrison, which he had left for the lieutenant’s use. On the other side of the ledger, he owed money for the supplies he had received from the receiver-general and the money he was responsible for on behalf of his friend, leaving him, for the first time in his life, quite tangled up in his finances. Of the first half-year's interest on his ten thousand, which was paid on time, he only had eighty pounds in the bank, with no chance of more until the next term, which was four long months away. He seriously thought about the uncertainty of human affairs: the ship with his fifteen hundred pounds could be lost; the person he was backing financially might fail in this endeavor just like in his previous ones, and one day the minister could, out of strategy or spite, put him at the mercy of his subordinate, who had his notes.
These suggestions did not at all contribute to the ease of our adventurer's mind, already ruffled by his disappointment. He cursed his own folly and extravagance, by which he was reduced to such an uncomfortable situation. He compared his own conduct with that of some young gentlemen of his acquaintance, who, while he was squandering away the best part of his inheritance, had improved their fortunes, strengthened their interest, and increased their reputation. He was abandoned by his gaiety and good-humour, his countenance gradually contracted itself into a representation of severity and care, he dropped all his amusements and the companions of his pleasure, and turned his whole attention to the minister, at whose levees he never failed to appear.
These suggestions didn’t help ease the adventurer's mind, already troubled by his disappointment. He cursed his own foolishness and wastefulness that led him to such an uncomfortable situation. He compared his actions to those of some young men he knew, who, while he was wasting the best part of his inheritance, had actually improved their fortunes, built their connections, and boosted their reputations. He lost his cheerfulness and good nature; his face slowly took on a look of seriousness and worry. He abandoned all his fun and the friends he used to enjoy spending time with, focusing entirely on the minister, at whose gatherings he always made a point to attend.
While he thus laboured in the wheel of dependence, with all that mortification which a youth of his pride and sensibility may be supposed to feel from such a disagreeable necessity, he one day heard himself called by name, as he crossed the park; and, turning, perceived the wife of Captain Gauntlet, with another lady. He no sooner recognized the kind Sophy, than he accosted her with his wonted civility and friendship; but his former sprightly air was metamorphosed into such austerity, or rather dejection of feature, that she could scarce believe her own eyes, and, in her astonishment, “Is it possible,” said she, “that the gay Mr. Pickle should be so much altered in such a short space of time!” He made no other reply to this exclamation, but by a languid smile; and asked how long she had been in town; observing, that he would have paid his compliments to her at her own lodgings, had he been favoured with the least intimation of her arrival. After having thanked him for his politeness, she told him, it was not owing to any abatement of her friendship and esteem for him, that she had omitted to give him that notice; but his abrupt departure from Windsor, and the manner in which he quitted Mr. Gauntlet, had given her just grounds to believe that they had incurred his displeasure; which suspicion was reinforced by his long silence and neglect from that period to the present time. She observed it was still farther confirmed, by his forbearing to inquire for Emilia and her brother: “judge, then,” said she, “if I had any reason to believe that you would be pleased to hear that I was in town. However, I will not detain you at present, because you seem to be engaged about some particular business; but, if you will favour me with your company at breakfast to-morrow, I shall be much pleased, and honoured to boot, by the visit.” So saying, she gave him a direction to her lodgings; and he took his leave, with a faithful promise of seeing her at the appointed time.
While he was stuck in this situation of dependence, feeling all the discomfort a proud and sensitive young man might feel from such an unpleasant obligation, one day he heard someone call his name as he crossed the park. Turning around, he saw Captain Gauntlet's wife with another lady. As soon as he recognized the kind Sophy, he greeted her with his usual politeness and friendliness; however, his formerly cheerful demeanor had transformed into a serious, almost sad expression, so much so that she could hardly believe her eyes. In her surprise, she said, “Is it possible that the cheerful Mr. Pickle has changed so much in such a short time?” He responded to her exclamation only with a weak smile and asked how long she had been in town, noting that he would have visited her at her lodgings if he had known she had arrived. After thanking him for his courtesy, she explained that it wasn't due to any decrease in her friendship or respect for him that she hadn't given him a heads up; rather, his abrupt departure from Windsor and the way he left Mr. Gauntlet had led her to believe he was upset with them. This suspicion was further confirmed by his long silence and neglect since then. She also mentioned it was reinforced by his not asking about Emilia and her brother: “So you can see why I had no reason to think you would be happy to know I was in town. However, I won’t hold you up right now, since you seem busy with something specific. But if you’d join me for breakfast tomorrow, I’d be very happy and honored by your visit.” With that, she gave him directions to her lodgings, and he said goodbye, promising to see her at the scheduled time.
He was very much affected with this advance of Sophy, which he considered as an instance of her uncommon sweetness of temper; he felt strange longings of returning friendship towards Godfrey; and the remembrance of Emilia melted his heart, already softened with grief and mortification. Next day he did not neglect his engagement, and had the pleasure of enjoying a long conversation with this sensible young lady, who gave him to understand that her husband was with his regiment; and presented to him a fine boy, the first-fruits of their love, whom they had christened by the name of Peregrine, in memory of the friendship which had subsisted between Godfrey and our youth.
He was really touched by Sophy's progress, which he saw as a sign of her rare sweetness. He felt a strange sense of rekindled friendship towards Godfrey, and memories of Emilia warmed his heart, which was already heavy with grief and disappointment. The next day, he kept his promise and enjoyed a long conversation with this insightful young woman, who let him know that her husband was with his regiment. She also introduced him to their lovely baby boy, the first result of their love, whom they named Peregrine to honor the friendship between Godfrey and him.
This proof of their regard, notwithstanding the interruption in their correspondence, made a deep impression upon the mind of our adventurer, who having made the warmest acknowledgments for this undeserved mark of respect, took the child in his arms, and almost devoured him with kisses, protesting before God, that he should always consider him with the tenderness of a parent. This was the highest compliment he could pay to the gentle Sophy, who again kindly chid him for his disdainful and precipitate retreat, immediately after her marriage; and expressed an earnest desire of seeing him and the captain reconciled. He assured her, nothing could give him greater satisfaction than such an event, to which he would contribute all that lay in his power, though he could not help looking upon himself as injured by Captain Gauntlet's behaviour, which denoted a suspicion of his honour, as well as contempt for his understanding. The lady undertook for the concession of her husband, who, she told him, had been extremely sorry for his own heat, after Mr. Pickle's departure, and would have followed him to the garrison, in order to solicit his forgiveness, had he not been restrained by certain punctilios, occasioned by some acrimonious expressions that dropped from Peregrine at the inn.
This gesture of their regard, despite the break in their communication, left a strong impact on our adventurer. After expressing his heartfelt thanks for this unearned show of respect, he took the child in his arms and showered him with kisses, swearing before God that he would always cherish him as a parent would. This was the highest praise he could give to the kind Sophy, who gently scolded him for his dismissive and hasty retreat right after her marriage; she also expressed a sincere wish to see him and the captain make amends. He assured her that nothing would make him happier than that happening, and he would do everything he could to help, even though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Captain Gauntlet had wronged him, which suggested a doubt about his integrity and a lack of respect for his intelligence. The lady promised to speak to her husband, telling him that he had deeply regretted his own outburst after Mr. Pickle's departure and would have gone to the garrison to seek his forgiveness if not for some formalities brought on by sharp words that Peregrine had said at the inn.
After having cleared up this misunderstanding, she proceeded to give an account of Emilia, whose behaviour, at that juncture, plainly indicated a continuance of affection for her first lover; and desired, that he would give her full powers to bring that matter also to an accommodation: “For I am not more certain of my own existence,” said she, “than that you are still in possession of my sister's heart.” At this declaration, the tear started in his eye. But he shook his head, and declined her good offices, wishing that the young lady might be much more happy than ever he should be able to make her.
After clearing up this misunderstanding, she went on to talk about Emilia, whose behavior at that moment clearly showed she still had feelings for her first love. She asked him to allow her to try to help resolve that issue too: “For I am as certain of my own existence,” she said, “as I am that you still hold my sister's heart.” At this statement, tears welled up in his eyes. But he shook his head and rejected her offer, hoping that the young lady would find much more happiness than he could ever provide.
Mrs. Gauntlet, confounded at these expressions, and moved by the desponding manner in which they were delivered, begged to know if any new obstacle was raised, by some late change in his sentiments or situation. And he, in order to avoid a painful explanation, told her, that he had long despaired of being able to vanquish Emilia's resentment, and for that reason quitted the pursuit, which he would never renew, howsoever his heart might suffer by that resolution; though he took Heaven to witness, that his love, esteem, and admiration of her, were not in the least impaired. But the true motive of his laying aside his design, was the consciousness of his decayed fortune, which, by adding to the sensibility of his pride, increased the horror of another repulse. She expressed her concern for this determination, both on his own account, and in behalf of Emilia, whose happiness, in her opinion, depended upon his constancy and affection; and she would have questioned him more minutely about the state of his affairs, had not he discouraged the inquiry by seeking to introduce another subject of conversation.
Mrs. Gauntlet, confused by these comments and touched by the discouraged way they were said, asked if any new obstacle had come up due to a recent change in his feelings or situation. He, wanting to avoid an uncomfortable explanation, told her that he had long given up hope of overcoming Emilia's anger, and for that reason, he had abandoned the pursuit, which he would never pick up again, no matter how much it hurt him; though he swore to Heaven that his love, respect, and admiration for her were not at all diminished. But the real reason he gave up was his awareness of his declining fortune, which heightened his pride’s sensitivity and made the fear of another rejection even worse. She expressed her worry about this decision, both for his sake and for Emilia's, whose happiness, in her view, relied on his loyalty and affection; and she would have probed more about the state of his finances if he hadn't discouraged her by trying to change the subject.
After mutual protestations of friendship and regard, he promised to visit her often, during her residence in town; and took his leave in a strange perplexity of mind, occasioned by the images of love, intruding upon the remonstrances of carking care. He had some time ago forsaken those extravagant companions with whom he had rioted in the heyday of his fortune, and begun to consort with a graver and more sober species of acquaintance. But he now found himself disabled from cultivating the society of these also, who were men of ample estates and liberal dispositions; in consequence of which, their parties were too expensive for the consumptive state of his finances; so that he was obliged to descend to another degree, and mingle with a set of old bachelors and younger brothers, who subsisted on slender annuities, or what is called a bare competency in the public funds. This association was composed of second-hand politicians and minor critics, who in the forenoon saunter in the Mall, or lounge at shows of pictures, appear in the drawing-room once or twice a week, dine at an ordinary, decide disputes in a coffee-house, with an air of superior intelligence, frequent the pit of the playhouse, and once in a month spend an evening with some noted actor, whose remarkable sayings they repeat for the entertainment of their ordinary friends.
After exchanging heartfelt expressions of friendship and affection, he promised to visit her often during her time in town and left with a strange mix of emotions, torn between thoughts of love and nagging worries. He had previously distanced himself from the extravagant friends with whom he had celebrated in the prime of his success and started hanging out with a more serious and grounded crowd. However, he now found himself unable to keep up with these new acquaintances, who were wealthy and generous, making their gatherings too costly for his dwindling finances. As a result, he had to lower his standards and blend in with a group of older bachelors and younger siblings who lived on meager annuities or what’s considered just enough from public funds. This group consisted of second-rate political thinkers and minor critics who strolled through the park in the mornings, lounged at art exhibitions, showed up in drawing rooms once or twice a week, dined at casual restaurants, settled arguments in coffee shops with a sense of superiority, sat in the cheap seats at the theater, and once a month spent an evening with a well-known actor, repeating their memorable quotes to entertain their usual friends.
After all, he found something comfortable enough in the company of these gentlemen, who never interested his passions to any violence of transport, nor teased him with impertinent curiosity about his private affairs. For, though many of them had maintained a very long, close, and friendly correspondence with each other, they never dreamt of inquiring into particular concerns; and if one of the two who were most intimately connected, had been asked how the other made a shift to live, he would have answered with great truth, “Really, that is more than I know.” Notwithstanding this phlegmatic indifference, which is of the true English production, they were all inoffensive, good-natured people, who loved a joke and a song, delighted in telling a merry story, and prided themselves in the art of catering, especially in the articles of fish, venison, and wild fowl.
After all, he found something comfortable in the company of these gentlemen, who never stirred his passions to any extreme emotion, nor bothered him with intrusive curiosity about his personal life. While many of them maintained a long, close, and friendly correspondence with each other, they never thought to ask about each other's specific situations; and if one of the two who were closest had been asked how the other managed to get by, he would have honestly replied, “Honestly, that’s more than I know.” Despite this calm indifference, which is a true English trait, they were all harmless, good-natured people who enjoyed a joke and a song, loved sharing a funny story, and took pride in their cooking skills, especially when it came to fish, venison, and game birds.
Our young gentleman was not received among them on the footing of a common member, who makes interest for his admission; he was courted as a person of superior genius and importance, and his compliance looked upon as an honour to their society. This their idea of his pre-eminence was supported by his conversation, which, while it was more liberal and learned than that to which they had been accustomed, was tinctured with an assuming air, so agreeably diffused, that, instead of producing aversion, it commanded respect. They not only appealed to him, in all doubts relating to foreign parts, to which one and all of them were strangers, but also consulted his knowledge in history and divinity, which were frequently the topics of their debates; and, in poetry of all kinds, he decided with such magisterial authority, as even weighed against the opinions of the players themselves. The variety of characters he had seen and observed, and the high spheres of life in which he had so lately moved, furnished him with a thousand entertaining anecdotes. When he became a little familiarized to his disappointments, so that his natural vivacity began to revive, he flashed among them in such a number of bright sallies, as struck them with admiration, and constituted himself a classic in wit; insomuch that they began to retail his remnants, and even invited some particular friends to come and hear him hold forth. One of the players, who had for many years strutted about the taverns in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden as the Grand Turk of wit and humour, began to find his admirers melt away; and a certain petulant physician, who had shone at almost all the port clubs in that end of the town, was actually obliged to import his talents into the city, where he was now happily taken root.
Our young gentleman wasn't just welcomed as an ordinary member trying to get in; he was sought after as someone of exceptional talent and significance, and his agreement to join was seen as an honor for their group. Their perception of his superiority was backed by his conversations, which, while more open-minded and knowledgeable than what they were used to, had a confidence that was so pleasantly presented that it didn’t push them away; it earned their respect. They turned to him for guidance on anything related to foreign places, all of which were unfamiliar to them, and also sought his insights on history and religion, which often sparked their discussions. In all kinds of poetry, he ruled with such authoritative confidence that his views even outweighed those of the actors themselves. The diverse experiences he had encountered and the high social circles he had recently been part of provided him with countless entertaining stories. As he started to adjust to his setbacks and his natural liveliness began to return, he dazzled them with so many clever remarks that they couldn't help but admire him, making him a classic in humor; they even began to share his quotes and invited friends to come listen to him speak. One actor, who had been flamboyantly showcasing his wit and humor around the bars near Covent Garden for years, started to see his fans dwindle; while a certain irritable doctor, who had been a star at nearly every port club in that part of town, had to take his talents to the city, where he was now happily settling in.
Nor was this success to be wondered at, if we consider that, over and above his natural genius and education, our adventurer still had the opportunity of knowing everything which happened among the great, by means of his friend Cadwallader, with whom he still maintained his former intimacy, though it was now chequered with many occasional tiffs, owing to the sarcastic remonstrances of the misanthrope, who disapproved of those schemes which miscarried with Peregrine, and now took unseasonable methods of valuing himself upon his own foresight. Nay, he was between whiles like a raven, croaking presages of more ill-luck from the deceit of the minister, the dissimulation of his patron, the folly of the projector, for whom he was bound, the uncertainty of the seas, and the villainy of those with whom he had entrusted his cash, for Crabtree saw and considered everything through a perspective of spleen, that always reflected the worst side of human nature. For these reasons our young gentleman began to be disgusted, at certain intervals, with the character of this old man, whom he now thought a morose cynic, not so much incensed against the follies and vices of mankind, as delighted with the distress of his fellow-creatures. Thus he put the most unfavourable construction on the principles of his friend, because he found himself justly fallen under the lash of his animadversion. Thus self-accusation very often dissolves the closest friendship. A man, conscious of his own indiscretion, is implacably offended at the rectitude of his companion's conduct, which he considers as an insult upon his failings, never to be forgiven, even though he has not tasted the bitterness of reproof, which no sinner can commodiously digest. The friendship, therefore, subsisting between Crabtree and Pickle, had of late suffered several symptomatic shocks, that seemed to prognosticate a total dissolution; a great deal of smart dialogue had passed in their private conversations, and the senior began to repent of having placed his confidence in such an imprudent, headstrong ungovernable youth.
Nor was it surprising that he was successful, considering that, in addition to his natural talent and education, our adventurer had the chance to know everything happening with the elite, thanks to his friend Cadwallader. They still kept in touch, though their friendship was now marked by occasional conflicts because of the misanthrope's sarcastic remarks, who criticized Peregrine's failed schemes and took every opportunity to brag about his own foresight. At times, he was like a raven cawing about bad luck from the deceit of the minister, the duplicity of his patron, the foolishness of the project leader he was tied to, the unpredictability of the seas, and the dishonesty of those he had entrusted with his money. Crabtree viewed everything through a lens of bitterness, always highlighting the worst aspects of human nature. For these reasons, our young gentleman began to feel frustrated with the character of this old man, whom he now saw as a gloomy cynic, more pleased with the suffering of others than angered by their follies and vices. He interpreted his friend's principles negatively because he found himself justifiably targeted by his criticism. Self-blame often ruins even the tightest friendships. A man who knows he's made mistakes can become intensely offended by his companion's moral behavior, which he sees as a personal affront to his shortcomings, something he can't forgive, even if he hasn't faced the harshness of criticism—something no one can easily accept. As a result, the friendship between Crabtree and Pickle had recently endured several significant strains that suggested a complete breakdown; a lot of sharp exchanges had occurred in their private talks, and the older man began to regret trusting such an impulsive, stubborn, uncontrollable youth.
It was in such paroxysms of displeasure that he prophesied misfortune to Peregrine, and even told him one morning, that he had dreamed of the shipwreck of the two East Indiamen, on board of which he had hazarded his money. But this was no other than a false vision; for in a few weeks, one of them arrived at her moorings in the river, and he received a thousand in lieu of eight hundred pounds which he had lent upon bond to one of the mates. At the same time he was informed, that the other ship, in which he was concerned, had, in all probability, lost her passage for the season, by being unable to weather the Cape. He was not at all concerned at that piece of news, knowing, that the longer he should be out of his money, he would have the more interest to receive; and, finding his present difficulties removed by this supply, his heart began to dilate, and his countenance to resume its former alacrity. This state of exultation, however, was soon interrupted by a small accident, which he could not foresee. He was visited one morning by the person who had lent his friend a thousand pounds on his security, and given to understand, that the borrower had absconded, in consequence of a disappointment, by which he had lost the whole sum and all hopes of retrieving it; so that our hero was now liable for the debt, which he besought him to discharge according to the bond, that he, the lender, might not suffer by his humanity. It may be easily conceived that Peregrine did not receive this intelligence in cold blood. He cursed his own imprudence in contracting such engagements with an adventurer, whom he did not sufficiently know. He exclaimed against the treachery of the projector; and having for some time indulged his resentment in threats and imprecations, inquired into the nature of the scheme which had miscarried.
It was in such fits of anger that he predicted trouble for Peregrine, and even told him one morning that he had dreamed about the shipwreck of the two East Indiamen he had invested in. But that was just a bad dream, because a few weeks later, one of them reached the river, and he got a thousand instead of eight hundred pounds back, which he had lent to one of the mates. At the same time, he found out that the other ship he was involved with had probably missed its chance for the season because it couldn't get past the Cape. He wasn't worried about that news at all, knowing that the longer his money was out, the more interest he'd earn. With his financial issues resolved by this money coming in, his spirits lifted, and his face returned to its usual cheerfulness. However, this moment of joy was quickly interrupted by an unexpected event. One morning, he was visited by the person who had lent his friend a thousand pounds based on his guarantee and was informed that the borrower had disappeared after suffering a setback that caused him to lose the entire amount and any chance of recovering it. Therefore, our hero was now responsible for the debt, which he pleaded to be settled according to the bond, so the lender wouldn't suffer due to his kindness. It’s easy to imagine that Peregrine didn’t take this news calmly. He cursed his own foolishness for getting involved with an adventurer he didn’t really know. He railed against the betrayal of the schemer, and after indulging his anger with threats and curses for a while, he started to look into what had gone wrong with the scheme.
The lender, who had informed himself of the whole affair, gratified his curiosity in this particular, by telling him that the fugitive had been cajoled by a certain knight of the post, who undertook to manage the thousand pounds in such a manner as would, in a very little time, make him perfectly independent; and thus he delineated the plan: “One half of the sum,” said he, “shall be laid out in jewels, which I will pawn to certain persons of credit and fortune, who lend money upon such pledges at an exorbitant interest. The other shall be kept for relieving them, so that they may be again deposited with a second set of those honourable usurers; and when they shall have been circulated in this manner through a variety of hands, we will extort money from each of the pawnbrokers, by threatening them with a public prosecution, for exacting illegal interest; and I know that they will bleed freely, rather than be exposed to the infamy attending such an accusation.” The scheme was feasible, and though not very honourable, made such an impression upon the needy borrower, that he assented to the proposals; and, by our hero's credit, the money was raised. The jewels were accordingly purchased, pawned, relieved, and repledged by the agent, who undertook to manage the whole affair; and so judiciously was the project executed, that he could have easily proved each lender guilty of the charge. Having thus far successfully transacted the business, this faithful agent visited them severally on his own account, to give them intimation, that his employer intended to sue them on the statute of usury; upon which, every one for himself bribed the informer to withdraw his evidence, by which alone he could be convicted; and having received these gratifications, he had thought proper to retreat into France with the whole booty, including the original thousand that put them in motion. In consequence of this decampment, the borrower had withdrawn himself; so that the lender was obliged to have recourse to his security.
The lender, who had gotten the full story, satisfied his curiosity on the matter by telling him that the runaway had been tricked by a certain shady guy who promised to invest the thousand pounds in a way that would quickly make him financially independent. He laid out the plan: “We’ll spend half the money on jewelry, which I’ll pawn to reliable and wealthy people who lend against such items at crazy high interest rates. The other half will be kept to pay them back, so we can re-pawn the jewelry with another group of those respectable loan sharks. Once the jewelry has passed through different hands like this, we’ll threaten each pawnbroker with a public lawsuit for charging illegal interest; I know they’ll pay up easily to avoid the shame of such an accusation.” The scheme was doable, and although it wasn’t exactly honorable, it impressed the desperate borrower enough that he agreed to the proposals. Thanks to our hero's reputation, they managed to raise the money. The jewels were then bought, pawned, redeemed, and re-pawned by the agent, who handled the entire operation so well that he could have easily proven each lender guilty of the claims. After successfully running the scheme, this loyal agent visited each of them separately to let them know that his employer planned to sue them under the usury law, and as a result, each one bribed him to keep quiet, as that was the only way he could convict them. After collecting these bribes, he decided to escape to France with the entire haul, including the original thousand that started it all. Consequently, the borrower had disappeared, leaving the lender no choice but to go after his security.
This was a very mortifying account to our young gentleman, who, in vain, reminded the narrator of his promise, importing, that he would not demand the money, until he should be called to an account by his ward; and observed, that, long before that period, the fugitive might appear and discharge the debt. But the other was deaf to these remonstrances; alleging, that his promise was provisional, on the supposition that the borrower would deal candidly and fairly; that he had forfeited all title to his friendship and trust, by the scandalous scheme in which he had embarked; and that his treacherous flight from his security was no proof of his honesty and intended return; but, on the contrary, a warning, by which he, the lender, was taught to take care of himself. He therefore insisted upon his being indemnified immediately, on pain of letting the law take its course; and Peregrine was actually obliged to part with the whole sum he had so lately received. But this payment was not made without extreme reluctance, indignation, and denunciation of eternal war against the absconder, and the rigid creditor, betwixt whom he suspected some collusion.
This was a really embarrassing situation for our young gentleman, who, in vain, reminded the narrator of his promise, which stated that he wouldn't demand the money until his ward was held accountable; and pointed out that, long before that time, the runaway might show up and settle the debt. But the other person ignored these protests, claiming that his promise was conditional, based on the assumption that the borrower would act honestly and fairly; that he had lost any right to his friendship and trust due to the disgraceful scheme he had gotten into; and that his sneaky escape from his obligation was no indication of his honesty and intention to return; rather, it was a warning for him, the lender, to look out for himself. He therefore insisted on being paid back immediately, threatening to let the law take its course; and Peregrine was forced to hand over the entire amount he had just received. But this payment was made with great reluctance, anger, and threats of ongoing conflict against the runaway and the strict creditor, between whom he suspected some sort of collusion.
CHAPTER XCI.
Cadwallader acts the part of a Comforter to his Friend; and in his turn is consoled by Peregrine, who begins to find himself a most egregious Dupe.
Cadwallader plays the role of a Comforter to his Friend; and in return, he is consoled by Peregrine, who starts to realize he is a complete fool.
This new misfortune, which he justly charged to the account of his own folly, recalled his chagrin; and though he endeavoured with all his might to conceal the affair from the knowledge of Cadwallader, that prying observer perceived his countenance overcast. The projector's sudden disappearance alarming his suspicion, he managed his inquiries with so much art, that in a few days he made himself acquainted with every particular of the transaction, and resolved to gratify his spleen at the expense of the impatient dupe. With this view, he took an opportunity to accost him with a very serious air, saying a friend of his had immediate occasion for a thousand pounds, and as Peregrine had the exact sum lying by him, he would take it as a great favour if he would part with it for a few months on undoubted security. Had Pickle known the true motive of this demand, he would in all likelihood have made a very disagreeable answer; but Crabtree had wrappped himself up so securely in the dissimulation of his features, that the youth could not possibly penetrate into his intention; and in the most galling suspense replied, that the money was otherwise engaged. The misanthrope, not contented with this irritation, assumed the prerogative of a friend, and questioned him so minutely about the disposal of the cash, that, after numberless evasions, which cost him a world of torture to invent, he could contain his vexation no longer, but exclaimed in a rage, “D— your impertinence! 'tis gone to the devil, and that's enough!”—“Thereafter, as it may be,” said this tormentor, with a most provoking indifference of aspect, “I should be glad to know upon what footing; for I suppose you have some expectation of advantage from that quarter.”—“'Sdeath! sir,” cried the impatient youth, “if I had any expectation from hell, I would make interest with you; for I believe, from my soul, you are one of its most favoured ministers upon earth.” With these words, he flung out of the room, leaving Cadwallader very well satisfied with the chastisement he had bestowed.
This latest misfortune, which he rightly blamed on his own foolishness, brought back his frustration; and even though he tried his best to hide the situation from Cadwallader, that nosy observer noticed his gloomy expression. Concerned by the projector's sudden disappearance, he asked questions so skillfully that within a few days he learned every detail of the incident and decided to take his revenge at the expense of the impatient fool. To do this, he seized an opportunity to approach him with a very serious demeanor, saying a friend of his urgently needed a thousand pounds, and since Peregrine had exactly that amount on hand, he would greatly appreciate it if he would lend it for a few months on solid security. If Pickle had known the real reason for this request, he would likely have responded very unpleasantly; but Crabtree had concealed his true intentions so well that the young man couldn’t see through it, and in a state of intense anxiety, he replied that the money was already committed. Unhappy with this provocation, the misanthrope took it upon himself to play the concerned friend, questioning him so exhaustively about what he had done with the cash that, after countless dodges that caused him a lot of stress to come up with, he could no longer hold back his irritation and shouted, “Damn your rudeness! It's gone to hell, and that's that!”—“Well then,” said this tormentor, with a maddeningly indifferent tone, “I’d be interested to know on what basis; I assume you expect some benefit from that?”—“For heaven's sake!,” the frustrated young man shot back, “if I had any hope coming from hell, I’d make a deal with you; I truly believe you're one of its most favored agents here on earth.” With those words, he stormed out of the room, leaving Cadwallader quite pleased with the punishment he had delivered.
Peregrine having cooled himself with a solitary walk in the park, during which the violence of his choler gradually evaporated, and his reflection was called to a serious deliberation upon the posture of his affairs, he resolved to redouble his diligence and importunity with his patron and the minister, in order to obtain some sinecure, which would indemnify him for the damage he had sustained on their account. He accordingly went to his lordship and signified his demand, after having told him, that he had suffered several fresh losses, which rendered an immediate provision of that sort necessary to his credit and subsistence. His noble friend commended him for the regard he manifested for his own interest, which he considered as a proof of his being at last detached from the careless inadvertency of youth; he approved of his demand, which he assured him should be faithfully transmitted to the minister, and backed with all his influence; and encouraged his hope, by observing, that some profitable places were at that time vacant, and, so far as he knew, unengaged.
Peregrine, having calmed down with a solitary walk in the park, during which his anger gradually faded away, turned his thoughts to seriously consider his situation. He decided to increase his efforts and persistence with his patron and the minister to secure a position that would compensate him for the losses he had suffered because of them. He then approached his lordship and expressed his request, mentioning that he had faced several new setbacks that made it crucial to find such a position for his reputation and livelihood. His noble friend praised him for prioritizing his own interests, which he saw as a sign that Peregrine had finally moved past the carefree naivety of youth. He supported Peregrine's request and assured him it would be properly communicated to the minister, backed by all his influence, and encouraged his optimism by noting that there were currently some profitable positions available that appeared to be unoccupied.
This conversation helped to restore the tranquility of Pickle's breast, though he still harboured resentment against Cadwallader, on account of the last insult; and on the instant he formed a plan of revenge. He knew the misanthrope's remittances from his estate in the country had been of late very scanty, in consequence of repairs and bankruptcies among his tenants; so that, in spite of all his frugality, he had been but barely able to maintain his credit, and even that was engaged on the strength of his running rent. Being therefore intimately acquainted with the particulars of his fortune, he wrote a letter to Crabtree, subscribed with the name of his principal farmer's wife, importing that her husband being lately dead, and the greatest part of her cattle destroyed by the infectious distemper, she found herself utterly incapable of paying the rent which was due, or even of keeping the farm, unless he would, out of his great goodness, be pleased to give her some assistance, and allow her to sit free for a twelvemonth to come. This intimation he found means to convey by post from a market town adjoining to the farm, directed in the usual style to the cynic, who, seeing it stamped with the known marks, could not possibly suspect any imposition.
This conversation helped to calm Pickle's feelings, although he still held a grudge against Cadwallader because of the last insult; right then, he came up with a plan for revenge. He knew that the misanthrope's payments from his estate in the countryside had been pretty low lately due to repairs and bankruptcies among his tenants. So, despite all his savings, he had just managed to keep his credit, and even that was tied to his unpaid rent. Since he was well aware of the details of Cadwallader's finances, he wrote a letter to Crabtree signed with the name of his main farmer's wife, stating that her husband had recently died and most of her cattle had been lost to an infectious disease, leaving her completely unable to pay the rent that was due or even keep the farm unless he would show kindness and allow her to go a year rent-free. He managed to send this information by mail from a nearby market town addressed in the usual format to the cynic, who, seeing it marked with the recognizable stamps, would have no reason to suspect it was a trick.
Hackneyed as he was in the ways of life, and steeled with his boasted stoicism, this epistle threw him into such an agony of vexation, that a double proportion of souring was visible in his aspect, when he was visited by the author, who, having observed and followed the postman at a proper distance, introduced a conversation upon his own disappointments, in which, among other circumstances of his own ill-luck, he told him, that his patron's steward had desired to be excused from paying the last quarter of his interest precisely at the appointed term, for which reason he should be utterly void of cash, and therefore requested that Crabtree would accommodate him with an hundred pieces of his next remittance from the country.
Hackneyed as he was in the ways of life and hardened by his claimed ability to withstand hardships, this letter threw him into such a state of frustration that a noticeable increase in sourness was evident on his face when the author visited him. The author, having watched and followed the postman from a distance, started a conversation about his own disappointments. He mentioned, among other instances of his bad luck, that his patron's steward had asked to postpone paying the last quarter of his interest right on schedule. Because of this, he would be completely out of cash and therefore asked Crabtree to lend him a hundred pieces from his next payment from the country.
This demand galled and perplexed the old man to such a degree, that the muscles of his face assumed a contraction peculiarly virulent, and exhibited the character of Diogenes with a most lively expression; he knew that a confession of his true situation would furnish Pickle with an opportunity to make reprisals upon him, with intolerable triumph; and that, by a downright refusal to supply his wants, he would for ever forfeit his friendship and esteem, and might provoke him to take ample vengeance for his sordid behaviour, by exposing him, in his native colours, to the resentment of those whom he had so long deceived. These considerations kept him some time in a most rancorous state of suspense, which Peregrine affected to misinterpret, by bidding him freely declare his suspicion, if he did not think it safe to comply with his request, and he would make shift elsewhere.
This demand irritated and confused the old man so much that the muscles in his face tightened in a particularly hostile way, showing a look similar to Diogenes with a very vivid expression; he understood that admitting his true situation would give Pickle a chance to retaliate against him with unbearable satisfaction, and that by outright refusing to meet his needs, he would permanently lose his friendship and respect, possibly provoking him to exact considerable revenge for his greedy behavior by revealing his true self to the anger of those he had deceived for so long. These thoughts kept him in a deeply resentful state of uncertainty for a while, which Peregrine pretended to misunderstand, urging him to openly share his suspicions if he didn’t think it was safe to go along with his request, promising he would find help elsewhere.
This seeming misconstruction increased the torture of the misanthrope, who, with the utmost irritation of feature, “Oons!” cried he, “what villainy have you noted in my conduct, that you treat me like a rascally usurer?” Peregrine very gravely replied, that the question needed no answer; “for,” said he, “had I considered you as a usurer, I would have come with a security under my arm; but, all evasion apart, will you stead me? will you pleasure me? shall I have the money?”—“Would it were in your belly, with a barrel of gunpowder!” exclaimed the enraged cynic; “since I must be excruciated, read that plaguy paper! 'Sblood! why didn't nature clap a pair of long ears and a tail upon me, that I might be a real ass, and champ thistles on some common, independent of my fellow-creatures? Would I were a worm, that I might creep into the earth, and thatch my habitation with a single straw; or rather a wasp or a viper, that I might make the rascally world feel my resentment. But why do I talk of rascality? folly, folly, is the scourge of life! Give me a scoundrel, so he be a sensible one, and I will put him in my heart of hearts! but a fool is more mischievous than famine, pestilence, and war. The idiotical hag that writes, or causes to be writ, this same letter, has ruined her family, and broke her husband's heart, by ignorance and mismanagement; and she imputes her calamity to Providence with a vengeance; and so I am defrauded of three hundred pounds, the greatest part of which I owe to tradesmen, whom I have promised to pay this very quarter. Pox upon her! I would she were a horned beast, that the distemper might lay hold on her. The beldame has the impudence too, after she has brought me into this dilemma, to solicit my assistance to stock the farm anew! Before God, I have a good mind to send her a halter, and perhaps I might purchase another for myself, but that I would not furnish food for laughter to knaves and coxcombs.”
This apparent misunderstanding only added to the misery of the misanthrope, who, with a look full of irritation, exclaimed, “What kind of villainy have you seen in my actions that you treat me like a contemptible loan shark?” Peregrine replied very seriously that the question didn’t need an answer; “because,” he said, “if I thought you were a loan shark, I would have come prepared with collateral; but putting that aside, will you help me? Will you do me this favor? Am I going to get the money?”—“I wish it were in your stomach, along with a barrel of gunpowder!” the furious cynic shot back; “since I have to suffer, just read that cursed letter! Damn it! Why didn't nature give me long ears and a tail so I could be a real donkey and munch thistles on some common, away from my fellow humans? I wish I were a worm, so I could burrow into the earth and build my home with a single straw; or better yet, a wasp or a snake, so I could make this wretched world feel my anger. But why do I even talk about wickedness? Foolishness is the real plague of life! Give me a rogue, as long as he’s smart, and I’d welcome him into my heart! But a fool is more destructive than famine, disease, and war. The stupid old woman who wrote—or had this letter written—has ruined her family and shattered her husband’s heart through ignorance and mismanagement; and she blames her misfortune on fate with a vengeance; and so here I am, cheated out of three hundred pounds, most of which I owe to tradespeople I promised to pay this quarter. Damn her! I wish she were a beast, that misfortune could take hold of her. That hag even has the audacity, after putting me in this situation, to ask for my help to restock the farm! I swear, I’m tempted to send her a noose, and maybe I’d get one for myself, but I don't want to give those fools a reason to laugh at me.”
Peregrine having perused the billet, and listened to this ejaculation, replied with great composure, that he was ashamed to see a man of his years and pretensions to philosophy so ruffled by a trifle. “What signify all the boasted hardships you have overcome,” said he, “and the shrewd observations you pretend to have made on human nature? Where is that stoical indifference you affirm you have attained, if such a paltry disappointment can disturb you in this manner? What is the loss of three hundred pounds, compared with the misfortunes which I myself have undergone within these two years? Yet you will take upon you to act the censor, and inveigh against the impatience and impetuosity of youth, as if you yourself had gained an absolute conquest over all the passions of the heart. You were so kind as to insult me another day in my affliction, by reproaching me with indiscretion and misconduct: suppose I were now to retort the imputation, and ask how a man of your profound sagacity could leave your fortune at the discretion of ignorant peasants? How could you be so blind as not to foresee the necessity of repairs, together with the danger of bankruptcy, murrain, or thin crop? Why did you not convert your land into ready money, and, as you have no connections in life, purchase an annuity, on which you might have lived at your ease, without any fear of the consequence? Can't you, from the whole budget of your philosophy, cull one apophthegm to console you for this trivial mischance?”
Peregrine, after reading the note and hearing this outburst, calmly replied that he was embarrassed to see a man of his age and supposed wisdom so upset over a minor issue. “What do all your claimed hardships mean,” he said, “and the clever insights you think you’ve made about human nature? Where is that stoic indifference you claim to have achieved if such a small setback affects you like this? What is the loss of three hundred pounds compared to the hardships I've faced in the past two years? Yet you choose to act as a judge and criticize the impatience and impulsiveness of youth, as if you’ve completely conquered all the passions of the heart. You were kind enough to insult me the other day during my difficulties by blaming me for my mistakes: suppose I were to turn that around and ask how a man of your great wisdom could leave your fortune in the hands of clueless peasants? How could you be so shortsighted as not to anticipate the need for repairs, as well as the risk of bankruptcy, disease, or poor harvest? Why didn’t you convert your land into cash, and since you have no ties in this world, buy an annuity that would allow you to live comfortably without any worries? Can’t you, from all your philosophy, find a saying to comfort you for this minor mishap?”
“Rot your rapidity!” said the cynic, half-choked with gall; “if the cancer or the pox were in your throat, I should not be thus tormented with your tongue; and yet a magpie shall speak infinitely more to the purpose. Don't you know, Mr. Wiseacre, that my case does not fall within the province of philosophy? Had I been curtailed of all my members, racked by the gout and gravel, deprived of liberty, robbed of an only child, or visited with the death of a dear friend like you, philosophy might have contributed to my consolation; but will philosophy pay my debts, or free me from the burden of obligation to a set of fellows whom I despise?—speak-pronounce-demonstrate, or may Heaven close your mouth for ever!”
“Shut your mouth!” said the cynic, half-choked with bitterness; “if you had cancer or an STD in your throat, I wouldn’t be tormented by your speech. A magpie would be more to the point. Don’t you realize, Mr. Know-It-All, that my situation isn’t something philosophy can fix? If I had lost all my limbs, suffered from gout and kidney stones, been imprisoned, robbed of my only child, or experienced the death of a close friend like you, then maybe philosophy could help me find some comfort; but will philosophy pay my debts, or free me from the obligation to a bunch of people I can’t stand?—speak, explain, prove it, or may Heaven seal your lips forever!”
“These are the comfortable fruits of your misanthropy,” answered the youth; “your laudable scheme of detaching yourself from the bonds of society, and of moving in a superior sphere of your own. Had you not been so peculiarly sage, and intent upon laughing at mankind, you could never have been disconcerted by such a pitiful inconvenience; any friend would have accommodated you with the sum in question. But now the world may retort the laugh; for you stand upon such an agreeable footing with your acquaintance, that nothing could please them better than an account of your having given disappointment the slip, by the help of a noose properly applied. This I mention by way of hint, upon which I would have you chew the cud of reflection; and, should it come to that issue, I will use my whole interest with the coroner to bring in his verdict lunacy, that your carcase may have Christian burial.”
“These are the nice results of your disdain for people,” replied the young man; “your admirable plan of escaping from the ties of society and living in a superior world of your own. If you hadn’t been so exceptionally wise and focused on mocking humanity, you wouldn’t have been so troubled by such a sad inconvenience; any friend would have lent you the amount you need. But now the world can turn the tables; you’re on such friendly terms with your acquaintances that nothing would please them more than to hear how you managed to dodge disappointment with a well-placed noose. I mention this as food for thought, and I want you to think it over; if it comes to that, I’ll use all my influence with the coroner to ensure his verdict is lunacy, so you can have a Christian burial.”
So saying, he withdrew, very well satisfied with the revenge he had taken, which operated so violently upon Crabtree, that, if it had not been for the sole consideration mentioned above, he would, in all probability, have had recourse to the remedy proposed. But his unwillingness to oblige and entertain his fellow-creatures hindered him from practising that expedient, till, by course of post, he was happily undeceived with regard to the situation of his affairs; and that information had such an effect upon him, that he not only forgave our hero for the stratagem, which he immediately ascribed to the right author, but also made him a tender of his purse; so that matters for the present were brought to an amicable accommodation.
With that, he left, feeling quite satisfied with the revenge he had taken, which affected Crabtree so strongly that, if it hadn’t been for the single reason mentioned earlier, he probably would have resorted to the suggested remedy. But his reluctance to please and entertain others stopped him from using that option until, through the mail, he was happily cleared up about his situation; and that news had such an impact on him that he not only forgave our hero for the trick, which he quickly attributed to the right person, but also offered him his wallet, so things were settled amicably for the time being.
Meanwhile Peregrine never slacked in his attendance upon the great; he never omitted to appear upon every levee day, employed his industry and penetration in getting intelligence of posts that were unfilled, and every day recommended himself to the good offices of his patron, who seemed to espouse his interest with great cordiality; nevertheless, he was always too late in his application, or the place he demanded chanced to be out of the minister's gift. These intimations, though communicated in the most warm professions of friendship and regard, gave great umbrage to the young gentleman, who considered them as the evasions of an insincere courtier, and loudly complained of them as such to his lordship, signifying, at the same time, an intention to sell his mortgage for ready money, which he would expend to the last farthing in thwarting his honour, in the very first election he should patronize. His lordship never wanted a proper exhortation upon these occasions. He did not now endeavour to pacify him with assurances of the minister's favour, because he perceived that these medicines had, by repeated use, lost their effect upon our adventurer, whose menaces he now combated by representing that the minister's purse was heavier than that of Mr. Pickle; that, therefore, should he make a point of opposing his interest, the youth must infallibly fail in the contest; in which case he would find himself utterly destitute of the means of subsistence, and consequently precluded from all hope of provision.
Meanwhile, Peregrine never missed a chance to be around the powerful; he showed up every levee day, worked hard to find out about unfilled positions, and sought to gain favor with his patron, who appeared to genuinely support him. However, he always seemed to be too late in his requests, or the position he wanted happened to be outside the minister's control. These hints, although given with warm expressions of friendship, really frustrated the young man, who saw them as signs of a deceitful courtier and openly complained about them to his lordship. At the same time, he indicated he planned to sell his mortgage for cash, which he intended to spend completely on undermining his honor during the next election he would be involved in. His lordship was never short of the right words in these situations. This time, he didn’t try to calm him down with promises of the minister's support because he realized those reassurances had lost their power over Peregrine. Instead, he countered Peregrine's threats by pointing out that the minister had much more money than Mr. Pickle. So, if he chose to work against his interests, the young man would inevitably lose the battle, and in that case, he would find himself completely without means to support himself, leaving him with no hope for the future.
This was an observation, the truth of which our young gentleman could not pretend to doubt, though it did not at all tend to the vindication of his honour's conduct. Indeed, Pickle began to suspect the sincerity of his own patron, who, in his opinion, had trifled with his impatience, and even eluded, by sorry excuses, his desire of having another private audience of the first mover. His lordship also began to be less accessible than usual; and Peregrine had been obliged to dun the steward with repeated demands, before he could finger the last quarter of his interest. Alarmed by these considerations, he went and consulted the nobleman whom he had obliged in the affair of his son, and had the mortification to hear but a very indifferent character of the person in whom he had so long confided. This new adviser, who, though a courtier, was a rival of the other, gave our adventurer to understand, that he had been leaning upon a broken reed; that his professed patron was a man of shattered fortune and decayed interest, which extended no farther than a smile and a whisper; that, for his own part, he should have been proud of an opportunity to use his influence with the minister in behalf of Mr. Pickle. “But, since you have put yourself under the protection of another peer,” said he, “whose connections interfere with mine, I cannot now espouse your cause, without incurring the imputation of seducing that nobleman's adherents; a charge which, of all others, I would most carefully avoid. However, I shall always be ready to assist you with my private advice, as a specimen of which, I now counsel you to insist upon having another interview with Sir Steady Steerwell himself, that you may in person explain your pretensions, without any risk of being misrepresented; and endeavour, if possible, to draw him into some particular promise, from which he cannot retract, with any regard to his reputation; for general profession is a necessary armour worn by all ministers in their own defence, against the importunity of those whom they will not befriend, and would not disoblige.”
This was an observation that our young gentleman couldn't pretend to doubt, even though it did nothing to defend his honor's actions. In fact, Pickle started to distrust his own patron, who he felt had toyed with his impatience and dodged his requests for another private meeting with the key person. His lordship also became less approachable than usual; and Peregrine had to repeatedly press the steward for some time before he could get the last quarter of his share. Concerned by these thoughts, he consulted the nobleman he had helped with his son, only to feel disheartened by hearing a rather unimpressive account of the person he had trusted for so long. This new adviser, although a courtier, was a rival of the other, and he made it clear to our adventurer that he had been relying on something unreliable; that his supposed patron was a man of dwindling fortune and fading influence, which extended only to a smile and a whisper. He added that he would have gladly used his influence with the minister on Mr. Pickle's behalf. “But since you have chosen to align yourself with another peer,” he said, “whose connections conflict with mine, I can’t take up your cause now, without being accused of trying to win over that nobleman’s supporters—a charge I would like to avoid at all costs. However, I’m always here to help you with my personal advice. As a sample of that, I suggest you push for another meeting with Sir Steady Steerwell himself, so you can explain your situation directly and avoid any chance of being misrepresented; and try, if possible, to get him to make a specific promise that he can’t backtrack on without harming his reputation. General statements are like armor that all ministers wear to protect themselves against the pressure from those they won’t support and don’t want to offend.”
This advice was so conformable to his own sentiments, that our adventurer seized the first opportunity to demand a hearing, and plainly told his patron, that, if he could not be indulged with that favour, he should look upon his lordship's influence to be very small, and his own hopes to be altogether desperate; in which case he was resolved to dispose of the mortgage, purchase an annuity, and live independent.
This advice matched his own feelings so well that our adventurer jumped at the first chance to ask for a meeting. He directly told his patron that if he couldn't be granted that favor, he would see his lordship's influence as minimal and his own hopes as completely hopeless. In that case, he was determined to sell the mortgage, buy an annuity, and live independently.
CHAPTER XCII.
He is indulged with a second Audience by the Minister, of whose Sincerity he is convinced—His Pride and Ambition revive, and again are mortified.
He gets a second meeting with the Minister, whose honesty he trusts—his pride and ambition are reignited and then crushed again.
If the young gentleman's money had been in other hands, perhaps the peer would have been at very little pains, either in gratifying his demand, or opposing his revenge; but he knew that the sale of the mortgage could not be effected without an inquiry, to which he did not wish to be exposed. He, therefore, employed all his interest in procuring the solicited audience. This being granted, Peregrine, with great warmth and elocution, expatiated upon the injury his fortune had suffered in the affair of the borough, for which he had stood candidate; he took notice of the disappointment he had sustained in the other election, reminded him of the promises with which he had been amused, and, in conclusion, desired to know what he had to expect from his favour. The minister having patiently heard him to an end, replied with a most gracious aspect, that he was very well informed of his merit and attachment, and very much disposed to convince him of the regard which he paid to both; that till of late he did not know the nature of his expectations, neither had he the power of creating posts for those whom he was inclined to serve; but if Mr. Pickle would chalk out any feasible method by which he could manifest his sentiments of friendship, he should not be backward in executing the plan.
If the young guy's money had been in someone else's hands, the nobleman probably wouldn't have put much effort into meeting his demands or dealing with his revenge. But he knew that selling the mortgage couldn’t happen without an inquiry, which he wanted to avoid. So, he used all his connections to get the meeting he wanted. When it happened, Peregrine passionately explained how his fortune had suffered because of the borough election he had run for, mentioned the disappointment he faced in the other election, reminded him of the promises he had received, and ultimately asked what he could expect from his support. The minister, listening patiently, replied with a friendly demeanor that he was well aware of Peregrine’s worth and loyalty, and he wanted to show his appreciation for both. He admitted that until recently, he didn’t understand the nature of Peregrine’s expectations and didn’t have the authority to create positions for those he wanted to help. However, if Mr. Pickle could suggest a practical way for him to express his friendship, he would be more than willing to follow through.
Peregrine, laying hold on this declaration, mentioned several places which he knew to be vacant. But the old evasion was still used; one of them was not in his department of business, another had been promised to the third son of a certain earl before the death of the last possessor, and a third was encumbered with a pension that ate up a good half of the appointments. In short, such obstructions were started to all his proposals as he could not possibly surmount, though he plainly perceived they were no other than specious pretexts to cover the mortifying side of a refusal. Exasperated, therefore, at this lack of sincerity and gratitude, “I can easily foresee,” said he, “that such difficulties will never be wanting, when I have anything to ask; and for that reason will save myself the trouble of any further application.” So saying, he withdrew in a very abrupt manner, breathing defiance and revenge. But his patron, who did not think proper to drive him to extremities, found means to persuade his honour to do something for the pacification of the young man's choler; and that same evening our adventurer received a message from his lordship, desiring to see him immediately.
Peregrine, seizing this statement, mentioned several places he knew were available. But the old excuses were still being used; one wasn’t under his jurisdiction, another had been promised to the third son of a certain earl before the last owner died, and a third was burdened with a pension that consumed a significant portion of the positions. In short, there were so many obstacles thrown in front of his proposals that he couldn’t possibly overcome them, even though he clearly saw they were just clever excuses to mask the shame of a refusal. Frustrated by this dishonesty and lack of gratitude, he said, “I can easily predict that such difficulties will always be there when I have something to ask; for that reason, I'll spare myself the trouble of any further requests.” With that, he left very abruptly, seething with anger and thoughts of revenge. However, his patron, not wanting to push him to extremes, found a way to convince him to do something to ease the young man's anger; that same evening, our adventurer received a message from his lordship, asking to see him immediately.
In consequence of this intimation, Pickle went to his house, and appeared before him with a very cloudy aspect, which signified to whom it might concern, that his temper was at present too much galled to endure reproof; and therefore the sagacious peer forbore taking him to task for his behaviour during the audience he had obtained; but gave him to understand, that the minister, in consideration of his services, had sent him a bank-note of three hundred pounds, with a promise of the like sum yearly, until he could be otherwise provided for. This declaration in some measure appeased the youth, who condescended to accept the present; and, next levee day, made his acknowledgment to the donor, who favoured him with a smile of infinite complacency, which entirely dissipated all the remains of his resentment; for, as he could not possibly divine the true cause of his being temporized with, he looked upon this condescension as an undoubted proof of Sir Steady's sincerity, and firmly believed that he would settle him in some place with the first opportunity, rather than continue to pay this pension out of his own pocket. In all probability, his prediction would have been verified, had not an unforeseen accident in a moment overwhelmed the barque of his interest at court.
As a result of this notice, Pickle went to his house and showed up with a very sullen expression, which indicated to anyone who cared to notice that he was currently too irritated to handle criticism. Therefore, the wise peer refrained from reprimanding him for his behavior during the meeting he had arranged, but let him know that the minister, in recognition of his services, had sent him a banknote of three hundred pounds, along with a promise of the same amount each year until he could be taken care of in another way. This announcement somewhat calmed the young man, who agreed to accept the gift; and the next time there was a levee day, he thanked the donor, who responded with an exceptionally pleased smile that completely wiped away any lingering resentment. Since he couldn't possibly figure out the real reason for the special treatment he was receiving, he saw this kindness as definitive evidence of Sir Steady's sincerity and firmly believed that he would arrange a position for him at the first opportunity rather than keep paying this pension out of his own funds. It’s likely his assumption would have come true had an unexpected event not suddenly disrupted the ship of his interests at court.
Meanwhile, this short gleam of good fortune recalled the ideas of pride and ambition which he had formerly cherished. His countenance was again lifted up, his good-humour retrieved, and his mien reexalted. Indeed, he began to be considered as a rising man by his fellow-dependents, who saw the particular notice with which he was favoured at the public levee; and some of them, for that reason, were at pains to court his good graces. He no longer shunned his former intimates, with whom a good part of his fortune had been spent, but made up to them in all places of public resort, with the same ease and familiarity as he had been used to express, and even re-embarked in some of their excesses, upon the strength of his sanguine expectation. Cadwallader and he renewed their consultations in the court of ridicule; and divers exploits were achieved, to the confusion of those who had “sailed into the north of their displeasure.”
Meanwhile, this brief moment of good luck brought back the feelings of pride and ambition that he had once held dear. His expression brightened again, his good mood returned, and he carried himself with renewed confidence. In fact, people began to see him as an up-and-coming individual among his peers, who noticed the special attention he received at the public gatherings; as a result, some of them tried hard to win his favor. He no longer distanced himself from his old friends, with whom he had spent a significant part of his fortune, but approached them in all the usual social spots, with the same ease and familiarity he had always shown, even getting back into some of their wild activities, driven by his hopeful expectations. Cadwallader and he resumed their playful banter, and various antics were accomplished, much to the embarrassment of those who had “sailed into the north of their displeasure.”
But these enjoyments were soon interrupted by a misfortune equally fatal and unexpected. His noble patron was seized with an apoplectic fit, from which he was recovered by the physicians, that they might despatch him according to rule, and in two months after they were called, he went the way of all flesh. Peregrine was very much afflicted at this event, not only on account of his friendship for the deceased, to whom he thought himself under many and great obligations, but also because he feared that his own interest would suffer a severe shock, by the removal of this nobleman, whom he considered as its chief support. He put himself therefore in mourning, out of regard to the memory of his departed friend, and exhibited genuine marks of sorrow and concern, though he had in reality more cause to grieve than he as yet imagined. When quarter-day came about, he applied to the steward of his lordship's heir for the interest of his money, as usual; and the reader will readily own he had some reason to be surprised, when he was told he had no claim either to principal or interest. True it is, the manager talked very civilly as well as sensibly on the subject. “Your appearance, sir,” said he to Pickle, “screens you from all suspicion of an intended fraud; but the mortgage upon those lands you mention was granted to another person many years before you pretend to have lent that sum; and I have, this very morning, paid one quarter's interest, as appears from this receipt, which you may peruse for your satisfaction.”
But these pleasures were quickly interrupted by a misfortune that was both deadly and unexpected. His noble patron suffered an apoplectic fit, from which the doctors revived him, but only so they could follow protocol, and two months later, he went the way of all flesh. Peregrine was deeply saddened by this event, not only because of his friendship with the deceased, for whom he felt a significant sense of obligation, but also because he worried that his own interests would take a serious hit with the passing of this nobleman, whom he saw as his main supporter. He put himself in mourning out of respect for his late friend and showed real signs of grief and concern, even though he had more cause to mourn than he realized at the time. When quarter-day came, he approached the steward of his lordship's heir for the interest on his money, as usual; and it’s easy to understand why he was surprised when he was told he had no claim to either principal or interest. It’s true the manager spoke very politely and reasonably on the matter. “Your appearance, sir,” he said to Pickle, “protects you from any suspicion of fraud; however, the mortgage on those lands you mentioned was granted to someone else many years before you claim to have lent that amount. I have, just this morning, paid one quarter's interest, as shown in this receipt, which you may review for your satisfaction.”
Peregrine was so thunderstruck at this information, which stripped him of his all, that he could not utter one word; a circumstance that did no great honour to his character in the opinion of the steward, who, in good earnest, began to entertain some doubts of his integrity. For, among the papers of the deceased, which he had examined, there was no writing, memorandum, or receipt relating to this encumbrance. After a long pause of stupefaction, Peregrine recollected himself so far as to observe, that either he was egregiously mistaken, or the predecessor of his lord the greatest villain upon earth. “But, Mr. Whatd'ycallum,” said he, “you must give me leave to tell you, that your bare assertion in this affair will by no means induce me to put up quietly with the loss of ten thousand pounds.”
Peregrine was so stunned by this news, which took everything from him, that he couldn't say a word; this didn't reflect well on his character in the steward's eyes, who genuinely began to doubt his honesty. Among the papers of the deceased that he had gone through, there was no writing, note, or receipt regarding this debt. After a long moment of shock, Peregrine managed to gather his thoughts enough to say that either he was completely wrong or his lord's predecessor was the biggest villain on the planet. “But, Mr. Whatd'ycallum,” he said, “you must let me tell you that your mere word in this matter will not convince me to just accept losing ten thousand pounds.”
Having thus expressed himself, he retired from the house so discontented at this demur, that he scarce knew whether he moved upon his head or heels; and the park chancing to be in his way, he sauntered about, giving vent to a soliloquy in praise of his departed friend, the burden of which was a string of incoherent curses imprecated upon himself; till his transports by degrees giving way to his reflection, he deliberated seriously and sorrowfully upon his misfortune, and resolved to consult lawyers without loss of time. But, first of all, he proposed to make personal application to the heir, who, by a candid representation of the case, might be inclined to do him justice. In consequence of this determination, he next morning put his writings in his pocket, and went in a chair to the house of the young nobleman, to whom, being admitted by virtue of his appearance, and a small gratification to the porter, he explained the whole affair, corroborating his assertions with the papers which he produced, and describing the disgrace that would be entailed upon the memory of the deceased, should he be obliged to seek redress in a public court of justice.
After saying what he needed to, he left the house feeling so unhappy about the situation that he hardly knew whether he was on his feet or his head. Since the park was on his way, he wandered around, talking to himself about his late friend, filled with a mix of jumbled curses aimed at himself. Gradually, as his emotional outburst faded, he began to seriously and sadly think about his misfortune and decided to consult lawyers as soon as possible. But first, he wanted to speak directly to the heir, hoping that a straightforward explanation of the situation might persuade him to act fairly. With this plan in mind, the next morning he packed his documents and took a carriage to the young nobleman’s house. Once there, he was let in thanks to his appearance and a small tip to the porter. He explained everything, backing up his claims with the papers he had, and described the shame that would fall on the late nobleman's memory if he had to seek justice in a public court.
The executor, who was a person of good breeding, condoled him upon his loss with great good-nature, though he did not seem much surprised at his account of the matter; but wished, that, since the fraud must have been committed, the damage had fallen upon the first mortgager, who, he said, was a thievish usurer, grown rich by the distresses of his fellow-creatures. In answer to our hero's remonstrances, he observed, that he did not look upon himself as obliged to pay the least regard to the character of his predecessor, who had used him with great barbarity and injustice, not only in excluding him from his countenance and assistance, but also in prejudicing his inheritance as much as lay in his power; so that it could not be reasonably expected that he would pay ten thousand pounds of his debt, for which he had received no value. Peregrine, in spite of his chagrin, could not help owning within himself, that there was a good deal of reason in this refusal. After having given loose to his indignation in the most violent invectives against the defunct, he took his leave of the complaisant heir, and had immediate recourse to the advice of counsel, who assured him that he had an excellent plea, and was accordingly retained in the cause.
The executor, who came from a good background, expressed his sympathy for his loss with genuine kindness, even though he didn’t seem very surprised by the situation. He wished that, since fraud had taken place, the damage had impacted the first mortgage holder, who he described as a greedy loan shark, enriched by the suffering of others. In response to our hero’s protests, he noted that he didn’t feel obligated to consider the character of his predecessor, who had treated him with extreme cruelty and unfairness—not only by cutting him off from his support but also by harming his inheritance as much as possible. Therefore, it wasn’t reasonable to expect him to pay ten thousand pounds of a debt for which he received nothing in return. Peregrine, despite his frustration, had to admit to himself that there was some merit to this refusal. After venting his anger with the harshest criticism of the deceased, he took his leave of the accommodating heir and immediately sought legal advice, which assured him that he had a strong case, and he was subsequently retained for the matter.
All these measures were taken in the first vigour of his exertion, during which his spirits were so fluttered with the diversity of passions produced by his mischance, that he mistook for equanimity that which was no other than intoxication; and two whole days elapsed before he attained a due sense of his misfortune. Then, indeed, he underwent a woeful self-examination; every circumstance of the inquiry added fresh pangs to his reflection; and the result of the whole was a discovery, that his fortune was totally consumed, and himself reduced to a state of the most deplorable dependence. This suggestion alone might, in the anguish of his despondency, have driven him to some desperate course, had it not been in some measure qualified by the confidence of his lawyers, and the assurance of the minister, which, slender as the world hath generally found them, were the only bulwarks between misery and him.
All these steps were taken at the peak of his efforts, during which his emotions were so tangled by the different feelings caused by his bad luck that he confused the calm he felt with nothing more than being drunk; and two whole days passed before he truly recognized his misfortune. Then, indeed, he went through a painful self-reflection; every detail of his examination brought new pain to his thoughts; and the outcome was the realization that his fortune was completely gone, leaving him in a state of utter dependence. This realization alone could have pushed him to take some desperate action in his despair, if not for the partial reassurance provided by his lawyers and the minister, which, though weak as the world generally finds them, were his only barriers against misery.
The mind is naturally pliable, and, provided it has the least hope to lean upon, adapts itself wonderfully to the emergencies of fortune, especially when the imagination is gay and luxuriant. This was the case with our adventurer; instead of indulging the melancholy ideas which his loss inspired, he had recourse to the flattering delusions of hope, soothing himself with unsubstantial plans of future greatness, and endeavouring to cover what was past with the veil of oblivion. After some hesitation, he resolved to make Crabtree acquainted with his misfortune, that once for all he might pass the ordeal of his satire, without subjecting himself to a long series of sarcastic hints and doubtful allusions, which he could not endure. He accordingly took the first opportunity of telling him that he was absolutely ruined by the perfidy of his patron, and desired that he would not aggravate his affliction by those cynical remarks which were peculiar to men of his misanthropical disposition. Cadwallader listened to this declaration with internal surprise, which, however, produced no alteration in his countenance; and, after some pause, observed, that our hero had no reason to look for any new observation from him upon this event, which he had long foreseen, and daily expected, and exhorted him, with an ironical sneer, to console himself with the promise of the minister, who would doubtless discharge the debts of his deceased bosom friend.
The mind is naturally flexible, and as long as it has a glimmer of hope to hold onto, it adapts remarkably to life's challenges, especially when the imagination is lively and flourishing. This was true for our adventurer; instead of dwelling on the sad thoughts caused by his loss, he turned to the comforting illusions of hope, soothing himself with unrealistic plans for future success, and trying to cover up the past with forgetfulness. After some hesitation, he decided to let Crabtree know about his misfortune, so that he could face his criticism all at once, rather than endure a long string of sarcastic comments and ambiguous hints that he couldn’t tolerate. So, he seized the first opportunity to tell him that he had been completely ruined by the betrayal of his patron, and asked him not to worsen his pain with those cynical comments typical of someone with his misanthropic nature. Cadwallader listened to this statement with internal surprise, but it didn’t show on his face; after a pause, he remarked that our hero shouldn’t expect any new insights from him about this situation, which he had long anticipated and expected daily, and he sarcastically encouraged him to take comfort in the promise of the minister, who would surely pay off the debts of his deceased close friend.
CHAPTER XCIII.
Peregrine commits himself to the Public, and is admitted Member of a College of Authors.
Peregrine dedicates himself to the public and becomes a member of a college of authors.
The bitterness of this explanation being passed, our young gentleman began to revolve within himself schemes for making up the deficiencies of his yearly income, which was now so grievously reduced; and determined to profit, in some shape or other, by those talents which he owed to nature and education. He had, in his affluence, heard of several authors, who, without any pretensions to genius or human literature, earned a very genteel subsistence by undertaking work for booksellers, in which reputation was not at all concerned. One, for example, professed all manner of translation, at so much per sheet, and actually kept five or six amanuenses continually employed, like so many clerks in a counting-house, by which means he was enabled to live at his ease, and enjoy his friend and his bottle, ambitious of no other character than that of an honest man and a good neighbour. Another projected a variety of plans for new dictionaries, which were executed under his eye by day-labourers; and the province of a third was history and voyages, collected or abridged by understrappers of the same class.
After getting through this frustrating explanation, our young man started to think of ways to make up for the significant drop in his yearly income. He decided to take advantage of the skills he had from both nature and education. Back when he was well-off, he had heard of several authors who, without any claims to genius or literary talent, made a comfortable living by doing work for publishers where their reputation didn’t matter. One, for instance, offered all sorts of translation services for a fee per sheet and employed five or six assistants like clerks in an office. This allowed him to live comfortably and enjoy time with friends and a drink, with no ambition beyond being seen as a decent person and a good neighbor. Another had various projects for new dictionaries, which were completed by day laborers under his supervision. A third focused on history and travel accounts, which were collected or summarized by workers of the same kind.
Mr. Pickle, in his comparisons, paid such deference to his own capacity, as banished all doubts of his being able to excel any of those undertakers in their different branches of profession, if ever he should be driven to that experiment; but his ambition prompted him to make his interest and glory coincide, by attempting some performance which should do him honour with the public, and at the same time establish his importance among the copy-purchasers in town. With this view, he worshipped the muse; and, conscious of the little regard which is in this age paid to every species of poetic composition, in which neither satire nor obscenity occurs, he produced an imitation of Juvenal, and lashed some conspicuous characters, with equal truth, spirit, and severity. Though his name did not appear in the title-page of this production, he managed matters so that the work was universally imputed to the true author, who was not altogether disappointed in his expectations of success; for the impression was immediately sold off, and the piece became the subject of conversation in all assemblies of taste.
Mr. Pickle, in his comparisons, held such high regard for his own abilities that it eliminated any doubts about his potential to outshine any of those in their various professions if he ever had to try. However, his ambition pushed him to align his personal interests with his reputation by attempting a project that would earn him respect from the public and establish his significance among the town's buyers. With this goal in mind, he pursued his creative side; aware of how little appreciation is given today to any kind of poetry that lacks satire or vulgarity, he crafted a piece inspired by Juvenal and criticized some prominent figures with equal accuracy, wit, and intensity. Although his name didn’t appear on the title page, he orchestrated things so that the work was generally attributed to the real author, who wasn’t completely let down by its success. The first printing sold out quickly, and the piece became a hot topic in all gatherings of discerning readers.
This happy exordium not only attracted the addresses of the booksellers, who made interest for his acquaintance, but also roused the notice of a society of authors, who styled themselves “The College,” from which he was honoured with a deputation, offering to enroll him a member by unanimous consent. The person employed for this purpose being a bard who had formerly tasted of our hero's bounty, used all his eloquence to persuade him to comply with the advances of their fraternity, which he described in such a manner as inflamed the curiosity of Pickle, who dismissed the ambassador, with an acknowledgment of the great honour they conferred upon him, and a faithful promise of endeavouring to merit the continuance of their approbation.
This happy beginning not only caught the attention of the booksellers, who sought to befriend him, but also got noticed by a group of authors who called themselves “The College.” They honored him with a delegation, offering to make him a member with unanimous agreement. The person sent for this purpose was a poet who had previously benefited from our hero's generosity, and he used all his charm to convince him to accept their invitation. He described their group in such an enticing way that it piqued Pickle's curiosity. He eventually dismissed the messenger, expressing his gratitude for the great honor they were bestowing on him and promising to work hard to deserve their continued support.
He was afterwards, by the same minister, instructed in the ceremonies of the college; and, in consequence of his information, composed an ode, to be publicly recited on the evening of his introduction. He understood that this constitution was no other than a body of authors, incorporated by mutual consent, for their joint advantage and satisfaction, opposed to another assembly of the same kind, their avowed enemies and detractors. No wonder, then, that they sought to strengthen themselves with such a valuable acquisition as our hero was likely to prove. The college consisted of authors only, and these of all degrees in point of reputation, from the fabricator of a song, set to music, and sung at Marylebone, to the dramatic bard who had appeared in buskins upon the stage: nay, one of the members had actually finished eight books of an epic poem, for the publication of which he was at that time soliciting subscriptions.
He was later guided by the same minister in the college's ceremonies; and, based on this knowledge, he wrote an ode to be publicly recited during his introduction. He realized that this organization was simply a group of authors, formed by mutual agreement for their collective benefit and enjoyment, in opposition to another similar group, their open enemies and critics. It’s no surprise, then, that they aimed to strengthen their ranks with such a valuable addition as our hero was likely to become. The college was made up entirely of authors, and they varied widely in reputation, from the writer of a song, set to music and performed at Marylebone, to the dramatic poet who had appeared on stage in full costume: indeed, one of the members had even completed eight books of an epic poem, for which he was then seeking subscriptions for publication.
It cannot be supposed that such a congregation of the sons of Apollo would sit a whole evening with order and decorum, unless they were under the check of some established authority; and this inconvenience having been foreseen, they had elected a president, vested with full power to silence any member or members that should attempt to disturb the harmony and subordination of the whole. The sage, who at this time possessed the chair, was a person in years, whose countenance was a lively portraiture of that rancorous discontent which follows repeated damnation. He had been extremely unfortunate in his theatrical productions, and was, to use the words of a profane wag, who assisted at the condemnation of his last play, by this time d—d beyond redemption. Nevertheless, he still tarried about the skirts of Parnassus, translating some of the classics, and writing miscellanies, and by dint of an invincible assurance, supercilious insolence, the most undaunted virulence of tongue, and some knowledge of life, he made shift to acquire and maintain the character of a man of learning and wit, in the opinion of people who had neither; that is, thirty-nine in forty of those with whom he associated himself. He was even looked upon in this light by some few of the college; though the major part of those who favoured his election, were such as dreaded his malice, respected his experience and seniority, or hated his competitor, who was the epic poet.
It’s hard to believe that a group of people as talented as the sons of Apollo could sit together for an entire evening with order and respect unless there was some kind of authority keeping things in check. Anticipating this issue, they had elected a president with full power to silence anyone who tried to disrupt the harmony and order of the group. At that time, the chair was held by an older man whose face was a vivid picture of the resentment that comes from repeated failure. He had not been lucky with his theater productions and, as a mocking critic put it after the failure of his last play, he was pretty much damned beyond hope. Still, he lingered around the outskirts of Parnassus, translating some classics and writing various pieces. Thanks to his relentless confidence, arrogant insolence, sharp tongue, and some understanding of life, he managed to gain and keep a reputation as a learned and witty person among those who weren’t, which was about thirty-nine out of forty of those he socialized with. A few in the college also viewed him in this way, although most of those who supported his election were either afraid of his spite, respected his experience and age, or simply disliked his rival, the epic poet.
The chief end of this society, as I have already hinted, was to assist and support each other in their productions, which they mutually recommended to sale, with all their art and influence, not only in private conversation, but also in occasional epigrams, criticisms, and advertisements, inserted in the public papers. This science, which is known by the vulgar appellation of puffing, they carried to such a pitch of finesse, that an author very often wrote an abusive answer to his own performance, in order to inflame the curiosity of the town, by which it had been overlooked. Notwithstanding this general unanimity in the college, a private animosity had long subsisted between the two rivals I have mentioned, on account of precedence, to which both laid claim, though, by a majority of votes, it had been decided in favour of the present chairman. The grudge indeed never proceeded to any degree of outrage or defiance, but manifested itself at every meeting, in attempts to eclipse each other in smart sayings and pregnant repartee; so that there was always a delicate mess of this kind of wit served up in the front of the evening, for the entertainment and example of the junior members, who never failed to divide upon this occasion, declaring themselves for one or other of the combatants, whom they encouraged by their looks, gestures, and applause, according to the circumstances of the dispute.
The main goal of this society, as I've already mentioned, was to help and support each other in their work, which they actively promoted for sale using all their skills and influence, not just in private chats, but also in occasional witty remarks, critiques, and ads published in the newspapers. This practice, commonly referred to as "puffing," was taken to such extremes that an author would often write a negative response to their own work to spark curiosity in the community that had ignored it. Despite this overall harmony within the group, there had long been personal rivalry between the two competitors I mentioned, both claiming priority, even though a majority vote had favored the current chairman. The tension never escalated to any serious conflict but was evident at every meeting, as they tried to outdo each other with clever remarks and quick comebacks. This created a continuous display of wit at the start of each evening, entertaining and setting an example for the junior members, who eagerly took sides, showing support for one or the other of the combatants through their expressions, gestures, and cheers, depending on the nature of the debate.
This honourable consistory was held in the best room of an ale-house, which afforded wine, punch, or beer, suitable to the purse or inclination of every individual, who separately paid for his own choice; and here was our hero introduced in the midst of twenty strangers, who, by their looks and equipage, formed a very picturesque variety. He was received with a most gracious solemnity, and placed upon the right hand of the president, who, having commanded silence, recited aloud his introductory ode, which met with universal approbation. Then was tendered to him the customary oath, obliging him to consult the honour and advantage of the society as far as it should he in his power, in every station of life; and this being taken, his temples were bound with a wreath of laurel, which was kept sacred for such inauguration.
This respected gathering took place in the best room of a pub, which served wine, punch, or beer, catering to the budget or preference of each person, who covered the cost of their own choice. Our hero was introduced among twenty strangers, who, by their appearances and attire, created a visually striking mix. He was welcomed with great formality and seated at the right hand of the president, who called for silence and read aloud his introductory poem, which was met with widespread approval. He was then given the traditional oath, requiring him to consider the honor and benefit of the group as much as he could in every aspect of life; after taking this oath, his head was adorned with a laurel wreath, which was reserved for such ceremonies.
When these rites were performed with all due ceremony, the new member cast his eyes around the place, and took a more accurate survey of his brethren; among whom he observed a strange collection of periwigs, with regard to the colour, fashions, and dimensions, which were such as he had never seen before. Those who sat on each side, nearest the president, were generally distinguished by venerable ties, the foretops of which exhibited a surprising diversity; some of them rose slanting backwards, like the glacis of a fortification; some were elevated in two distinct eminences, like the hills Helicon and Parnassus; and others were curled and reflected, as the horns of Jupiter Ammon. Next to these, the majors took place, many of which were mere succedanea, made by the application of an occasional rose to the tail of a lank bob; and in the lower form appeared masses of hair, which would admit of no description.
When these rituals were carried out with all the proper ceremony, the new member looked around the room and took a closer look at his fellow members; among them, he noticed a bizarre assortment of wigs, varying in color, style, and size, which he had never encountered before. Those who sat nearest to the president were usually marked by distinguished neckties, the fronts of which showed a surprising variety; some slanted back like the slope of a fortress; some were raised into two noticeable peaks, like the hills of Helicon and Parnassus; and others were curled and turned out, resembling the horns of Jupiter Ammon. Next to these, the majors took their seats, many of which were merely substitutes, created by sticking an occasional rose to the end of a thin bob; and in the lower section were clumps of hair that defied description.
Their clothes were tolerably well suited to the furniture of their heads, the apparel of the upper bench being decent and clean, while that of the second class was threadbare and soiled; and at the lower end of the room, he perceived divers efforts made to conceal their rent breeches and dirty linen; nay, he could distinguish by their countenances the different kinds of poetry in which they exercised the muse. He saw Tragedy conspicuous in a grave solemnity of regard; Satire louring in a frown of envy and discontent; Elegy whining in a funeral aspect; Pastoral dozing in a most insipid languor of face; Ode-writing delineated in a distracted stare; and Epigram squinting with a pert sneer. Perhaps our hero refined too much in his penetration, when he affirmed, that, over and above these discoveries, he could plainly perceive the state of every one's finances, and would have undertaken to have guessed each particular sum without varying three farthings from the truth. The conversation, instead of becoming general, began to fall into parties; and the epic poet had actually attracted the attention of a private committee, when the chairman interposed, calling aloud, “No cabals, no conspiracies, gentlemen.” His rival, thinking it incumbent upon him to make some reply to this rebuke, answered, “We have no secrets; he that hath ears, let him hear.” This was spoke as an intimation to the company, whose looks were instantly whetted with the expectation of their ordinary meal; but the president seemed to decline the contest; for, without putting on his fighting face, he calmly replied, that he had seen Mr. Metaphor tip the wink, and whisper to one of his confederates, and thence judged, that there was something mysterious on the carpet.
Their outfits were reasonably suited to their personalities, with the clothes of the upper class being neat and clean, while those of the lower class were worn out and dirty. At the far end of the room, he noticed various attempts to hide their torn pants and stained shirts. He could even read their expressions and identify the types of poetry they were into. He saw Tragedy in their serious looks; Satire frowning with envy and dissatisfaction; Elegy displaying a mournful expression; Pastoral looking bored and listless; Ode-writing reflected in distracted gazes; and Epigram sneering with arrogance. Perhaps he was overthinking it when he claimed that, in addition to these observations, he could clearly see everyone’s financial situation and could have guessed each exact amount without being off by more than three pennies. Instead of engaging in general conversation, people started breaking into smaller groups. The epic poet had managed to capture the attention of a small committee, when the chairman intervened, loudly saying, “No cliques, no schemes, gentlemen.” His competitor, feeling the need to respond to this reprimand, replied, “We have no secrets; let whoever can hear, listen.” This was said to hint at the group, whose expressions were suddenly sharpened by the anticipation of their usual meal; however, the president seemed to avoid the confrontation, calmly stating that he had seen Mr. Metaphor give a knowing glance and whisper to one of his allies, leading him to believe there was something suspicious going on.
The epic poet, believing his antagonist crest-fallen, resolved to take the advantage of his dejection, that he might enhance his own character in the opinion of the stranger; and, with that view, asked, with an air of exultation, if a man might not be allowed to have a convulsion in his eye, without being suspected of a conspiracy? The president, perceiving his drift, and piqued at his presumption, “To be sure,” said he, “a man of a weak head may be very well supposed to have convulsions in his eyes.” This repartee produced a laugh of triumph among the chairman's adherents; one of whom observed, that his rival had got a smart rap on the pate. “Yes,” replied the bard, “in that respect Mr. Chairman has the advantage of me. Had my head been fortified with a horn-work, I should not have been so sensible of the stroke.” This retort, which carried a severe allusion to the president's wife, lighted up the countenances of the aggressor's friends, which had begun to be a little obumbrated; and had a contrary effect upon the other faction, till their chief, collecting all his capacity, returned the salute, by observing, that there was no occasion for a horn-work, when the covered way was not worth defending.
The epic poet, thinking his opponent was feeling down, decided to take advantage of his sadness to boost his own reputation with the stranger. So, with a triumphant vibe, he asked if a guy couldn’t have a twitch in his eye without being suspected of plotting something. The president, catching onto his angle and annoyed by his arrogance, replied, “Of course, a guy with a weak mind might easily be thought to have twitches in his eyes.” This comeback got a triumphant laugh from the chairman's supporters; one of them remarked that his rival had received a good knock on the head. “Yeah,” the poet shot back, “in that sense, Mr. Chairman has the upper hand over me. If my head had been fortified like a fortress, I wouldn’t have felt the blow so much.” This comeback, which hinted at the president's wife, brightened the faces of the poet's supporters, who had started to look a bit downcast, and had the opposite effect on the other side until their leader, gathering all his wits, fired back by saying that there was no need for a fortress when the path wasn’t worth protecting.
Such a reprisal upon Mr. Metaphor's yoke-fellow, who was by no means remarkable for her beauty, could not fail to operate upon the hearers; and as for the bard himself, he was evidently ruffled by the reflection; to which, however, he, without hesitation, replied, “Egad! 'tis my opinion, that, if your covered way was laid open, few people would venture to give the assault.”—“Not unless their batteries were more effectual than the fire of your wit,” said the president. “As for that matter,” cried the other with precipitation, “they would have no occasion to batter in breach; they would find the angle of the la pucelle bastion demolished to their hands—he, he!”—“But I believe it would surpass your understanding,” resumed the chairman, “to fill up the fosse.”—“That, I own, is impracticable,” replied the bard, “there I should meet with a hiatus maxime deflendus!”
Such a comeback aimed at Mr. Metaphor's companion, who definitely wasn't known for her looks, was bound to make an impact on the audience; and as for the bard himself, he clearly seemed unsettled by the thought. However, he quickly shot back, “Honestly! I think that if your sheltered path were opened up, not many people would dare to make an attack.” “Not unless their efforts were way more effective than the wit of yours,” said the president. “As for that,” the bard said hurriedly, “they wouldn't even need to break through; they'd find that the corner of the maidens' bastion was already torn down—ha, ha!” “But I doubt it would be within your understanding,” the chairman continued, “to fill the ditch.” “That I admit is impossible,” replied the bard, “there I would face a great and lamentable gap!”
The president, exasperated at this insinuation, in presence of the new member, exclaimed, with indignation in his looks, “And yet, if a body of pioneers were set at work upon your skull, they would find rubbish enough to choke up all the common sewers in town.” Here a groan was uttered by the admirers of the epic poet, who, taking a pinch of snuff with great composure, “When a man grows scurrilous,” said he, “I take it for an undoubted proof of his overthrow.”—“If that be the case,” cried the other, “you yourself must be the vanquished party, for you were the first that was driven to personal abuse.”—“I appeal,” answered the bard, “to those who can distinguish. Gentlemen, your judgment.”
The president, frustrated by this accusation, said to the new member, clearly indignant, “If a team of pioneers were to examine your brain, they'd find enough junk to block all the sewer lines in town.” This prompted a groan from the fans of the epic poet, who, taking a pinch of snuff calmly, said, “When a person gets nasty, it’s a sure sign of their defeat.” — “If that's true,” the other replied, “then you must be the one who’s lost, because you were the first to resort to personal insults.” — “I appeal,” said the poet, “to those who can see the truth. Gentlemen, what’s your judgment?”
This reference produced a universal clamour, and the whole college was involved in confusion. Every man entered into dispute with his neighbour on the merits of this cause. The chairman interposed his authority in vain; the noise grew louder and louder; the disputants waxed warm; the epithets of blockhead, fool, and scoundrel, were bandied about. Peregrine enjoyed the uproar, and, leaping upon the table, sounded the charge to battle, which was immediately commenced in ten different duels. The lights were extinguished; the combatants thrashed one another without distinction; the mischievous Pickle distributed sundry random blows in the dark, and the people below, being alarmed with the sound of application, the overturning of chairs, and the outcries of those who were engaged, came up-stairs in a body with lights to reconnoitre, and, if possible, quell this hideous tumult.
This reference sparked a huge uproar, and the entire college was thrown into chaos. Everyone started arguing with their neighbors about the merits of the case. The chairman tried to assert his authority, but it was pointless; the noise just got louder and louder. The debaters got heated, throwing around insults like blockhead, fool, and scoundrel. Peregrine loved the chaos and jumped onto the table, rallying everyone for battle, which quickly turned into ten different fights. The lights went out; the fighters clobbered each other indiscriminately. The mischievous Pickle threw some random punches in the dark, and the people downstairs, alarmed by the noise of impacts, overturned chairs, and the cries of those involved, rushed upstairs with lights to investigate and, if possible, put an end to the dreadful commotion.
Objects were no sooner rendered visible, than the field of battle exhibited strange groups of the standing and the fallen. Each of Mr. Metaphor's eyes was surrounded with a circle of a livid hue; and the president's nose distilled a quantity of clotted blood. One of the tragic authors, finding himself assaulted in the dark, had, by way of a poniard, employed upon his adversary's throat a knife which lay upon the table, for the convenience of cutting cheese; but, by the blessing of God, the edge of it was not keen enough to enter the skin, which it had only scratched in divers places. A satirist had almost bit off the ear of a lyric bard. Shirts and neckcloths were torn to rags; and there was such a woeful wreck of periwigs on the floor, that no examination could adjust the property of the owners, the greatest part of whom were obliged to use handkerchiefs by way of nightcap.
Objects became visible, and the battlefield showed bizarre groups of both the standing and the fallen. Each of Mr. Metaphor's eyes was surrounded by a circle of a sickly color, and the president's nose dripped a fair amount of congealed blood. One of the tragic authors, finding himself under attack in the dark, had used a knife from the table, meant for cutting cheese, as a makeshift dagger against his opponent's throat; but thankfully, it wasn't sharp enough to break the skin, only leaving scratches in various places. A satirist had nearly bitten off the ear of a lyric poet. Shirts and neckties were torn to shreds, and the floor was strewn with a disastrous collection of wigs, making it impossible to determine who owned what, with most of the victims having to use handkerchiefs as makeshift nightcaps.
The fray, however, ceased at the approach of those who interposed; part of the combatants being tired of an exercise in which they had received nothing but hard blows; part of them being intimidated by the remonstrances of the landlord and his company, who threatened to call the watch; and a very few being ashamed of the scandalous dispute in which they were detected. But though the battle was ended, it was impossible, for that evening, to restore harmony and good order to the society, which broke up, after the president had pronounced a short and confused apology to our adventurer, for the indecent uproar which had unfortunately happened on the first night of his admission. Indeed, Peregrine deliberated with himself, whether or not his reputation would allow him to appear again among this venerable fraternity; but, as he knew some of them to be men of real genius, how ridiculous soever their carriage might be modified, and was of that laughing disposition, which is always seeking food for mirth, as Horace observes of Philippus:
The fight, however, stopped when those who intervened arrived; some of the fighters were tired from an activity that had given them nothing but hard blows, some were intimidated by the landlord and his group, who threatened to call the police, and a few were embarrassed by the scandalous argument they had been caught in. But even though the fight was over, it was impossible to restore peace and order that evening, and the group broke up after the president gave a brief and muddled apology to our adventurer for the inappropriate chaos that had unfortunately occurred on his very first night. Indeed, Peregrine wondered whether his reputation would allow him to appear again among this esteemed group; however, since he knew some of them were genuinely talented individuals, no matter how ridiculous their behavior might be, and he had that lighthearted nature always looking for a laugh, as Horace notes about Philippus:
Risus undique quaerit;—
Laughter is everywhere;—
he resolved to frequent the college, notwithstanding this accident, which happened at his inauguration; being thereto, moreover, induced by his desire of knowing the private history of the stage, with which he supposed some of the members perfectly well acquainted. He was also visited, before the next meeting, by his introductor, who assured him, that such a tumult had never happened since the first institution of the assembly, till that very night; and promised that, for the future, he should have no cause to be scandalized at their behaviour.
He decided to keep going to the college, despite the incident that happened at his introduction; he was also motivated by his interest in learning the background of the stage, which he believed some of the members knew very well. Before the next meeting, his introducer visited him and assured him that such a disturbance had never occurred since the assembly was founded, not until that night; and he promised that, in the future, he wouldn’t have any reason to be shocked by their behavior.
Persuaded by these motives and assurances, he trusted himself once more in the midst of their community, and everything proceeded with great decorum; all dispute and altercation was avoided, and the college applied itself seriously to the purposes of its meeting, namely, to hear the grievances of individuals, and assist them with salutary advice. The first person that craved redress was a noisy North Briton, who complained, in a strange dialect, that he had, in the beginning of the season, presented a comedy to the manager of a certain theatre, who, after it had lain six weeks in his hands, returned it to the author, affirming there was neither sense nor English in the performance.
Persuaded by these motivations and assurances, he once again placed his trust in their community, and everything went very smoothly; all arguments and conflicts were avoided, and the group focused seriously on the reasons for their meeting, which were to listen to individual grievances and provide helpful advice. The first person to seek redress was a loud North Briton, who complained in a strange accent that he had presented a comedy to the manager of a certain theater at the beginning of the season, but after it had been with him for six weeks, he returned it to the author, claiming there was no sense or proper English in the work.
The president, who, by the bye, had revised the piece, thinking his own reputation concerned, declared, in presence of the whole society, that, with regard to sense, he would not undertake to vindicate the production; but, in point of language, no fault could be justly laid to its charge. “The case, however, is very plain,” said he; “the manager never gave himself the trouble to peruse the play, but formed a judgment of it from the conversation of the author, never dreaming that it had undergone the revisal of an English writer; be that as it will, you are infinitely obliged to him for having despatched you so soon, and I shall have the better opinion of him for it so long as I live; for I have known other guise authors than you, that is, in point of interest and fame, kept in continual attendance and dependence during the best part of their lives, and, after all, disappointed in the expectation of seeing their performances exhibited on the stage.”
The president, who, by the way, had reviewed the piece because he thought his own reputation was at stake, announced in front of everyone that, as far as meaning goes, he wouldn’t defend the work; but in terms of language, there was no legitimate criticism to be made. “The matter, however, is quite clear,” he said; “the manager never bothered to read the play and judged it based on the author's conversation, never realizing it had been revised by an English writer. Regardless, you should be very grateful to him for getting this done so quickly, and I will have a better opinion of him for it for the rest of my life; because I have seen other authors like you, in terms of interest and fame, kept waiting and depending on others for the best years of their lives, only to end up disappointed about getting their work shown on stage.”
CHAPTER XCIV.
Further proceedings of the College.
Further activities of the College.
This affair was no sooner discussed, than another gentleman exhibited a complaint, signifying, that he had undertaken to translate into English a certain celebrated author, who had been cruelly mangled by former attempts; and that, soon as his design took air, the proprietors of those miserable translations had endeavoured to prejudice his work, by industrious insinuations, contrary to truth and fair dealing, importing, that he did not understand one word of the language which he pretended to translate. This being a case that nearly concerned the greatest part of the audience, it was taken into serious deliberation. Some observed, that it was not only a malicious effort against the plaintiff, but also a spiteful advertisement to the public, tending to promote an inquiry into the abilities of all other translators, few of whom, it was well known, were so qualified as to stand the test of such examination. Others said, that over and above this consideration, which ought to have its due weight with the college, there was a necessity for concerting measures to humble the presumption of booksellers, who had, from time immemorial, taken all opportunities to oppress and enslave their authors; not only by limiting men of genius to the wages of journeymen tailors, without even allowing them one Sabbath in the week, but also in taking such advantages of their necessities as were inconsistent with justice and humanity.
This issue was barely discussed when another man came forward with a complaint, stating that he had started translating a well-known author into English, who had been badly misrepresented in previous attempts. As soon as his project became known, the owners of those poor translations tried to undermine his work with false suggestions, claiming he didn’t understand a single word of the language he claimed to translate. Since this was a matter that greatly affected most of the audience, it was taken up for serious discussion. Some pointed out that this was not only a malicious attack against the complainant but also a spiteful move to the public, encouraging scrutiny of all other translators, few of whom were known to be capable of passing such scrutiny. Others noted that aside from this important consideration, the college also needed to come up with ways to curb the arrogance of booksellers, who had historically seized every chance to oppress and exploit their authors. They not only paid talented individuals the same as journeyman tailors, without giving them even one day off a week, but also took advantage of their needs in ways that were unjust and inhumane.
“For example,” said one of the members, “after I myself had acquired a little reputation with the town, I was caressed by one of those tyrants, who professed a friendship for me, and even supplied me with money, according to the exigencies of my situation; so that I looked upon him as the mirror of disinterested benevolence; and had he known my disposition, and treated me accordingly, I should have writ for him upon his own terms. After I had used his friendship in this manner for some time, I happened to have occasion for a small sum of money, and with great confidence made another application to my good friend; when all of a sudden he put a stop to his generosity, refused to accommodate me in the most abrupt and mortifying style; and though I was at that time pretty far advanced in a work for his benefit, which was a sufficient security for what I owed him, he roundly asked, how I proposed to pay the money which I had already borrowed? Thus was I used like a young w— just come upon the town, whom the b—d allows to run into her debt, that she may have it in her power to oppress her at pleasure; and if the sufferer complains, she is treated like the most ungrateful wretch upon earth; and that too with such appearance of reason, as may easily mislead an unconcerned spectator. 'You unthankful drab!' she will say, 'didn't I take you into my house when you hadn't a shift to your back, a petticoat to your tail, nor a morsel of bread to put into your belly? Han't I clothed you from head to foot like a gentlewoman, supported you with board, lodging, and all necessaries, till your own extravagance hath brought you into distress; and now you have the impudence, you nasty, stinking, brimstone bungaway! to say you are hardly dealt with, when I demand no more than my own?' Thus the w— and the author are equally oppressed, and even left without the melancholy privilege of complaining; so that they are fain to subscribe to such terms as their creditors shall please to impose.”
“For example,” said one of the members, “after I had built up a bit of a reputation in town, one of those bullies started showering me with attention. He claimed to be my friend and even gave me money when I needed it; I saw him as a model of selfless kindness. If he had recognized my character and treated me accordingly, I would have worked for him on his terms. After I had taken advantage of his friendship for a while, I needed a small loan and confidently reached out to my good friend again. Suddenly, he cut off his generosity and refused to help me in the most rude and humiliating way. Although I was well into a project that would benefit him, which should have secured my debt to him, he bluntly asked how I planned to pay back the money I had already borrowed. I was treated like a naive girl who just arrived in town, allowed by the rich woman to rack up a debt so she could control her later. If the girl dared to complain, she was called the most ungrateful person in the world, and with enough apparent justification to confuse any outsider. 'You ungrateful tramp!' she would say, 'Did I not take you in when you had nothing—no clothes to wear, no food to eat? Haven't I dressed you like a lady, provided you with food, shelter, and everything you needed until your own foolishness got you into trouble? And now you have the nerve, you filthy, disgusting leech, to say I've treated you unfairly when I only ask for what is mine?' Thus, both the girl and the author are equally mistreated, left without even the sad option of complaining, forced to accept whatever terms their creditors decide to impose.”
This illustration operated so powerfully upon the conviction and resentment of the whole college, that revenge was universally denounced against those who had aggrieved the plaintiff; and, after some debate, it was agreed that he should make a new translation of some other saleable book, in opposition to a former version belonging to the delinquents, and print it in such a small size as would enable him to undersell their property; and that this new translation should be recommended and introduced into the world with the whole art and influence of the society.
This illustration had such a strong impact on the feelings and anger of the entire college that everyone called for revenge against those who had wronged the plaintiff. After some discussion, it was decided that he should create a new translation of another popular book to rival an earlier version belonging to the offenders. He would print it in a smaller size to undercut their sales, and the new translation would be promoted and introduced to the public with all the skill and influence of the society.
This affair being settled to the satisfaction of all present, an author of some character stood up, and craved the advice and assistance of his fellows, in punishing a certain nobleman of great pretensions to taste, who, in consequence of a production which this gentleman had ushered into the world with universal applause, not only desired, but even eagerly courted his acquaintance. “He invited me to his house,” said he, “where I was overwhelmed with civility and professions of friendship. He insisted upon my treating him as an intimate, and calling upon him at all hours, without ceremony; he made me promise to breakfast with him at least three times a week. In short, I looked upon myself as very fortunate, in meeting with such advances from a man of his interest and reputation, who had it in his power to befriend me effectually in my passage through life; and, that I might not give him any cause to think I neglected his friendship, I went to his house in two days, with a view of drinking chocolate, according to appointment; but he had been so much fatigued with dancing at an assembly overnight, that his valet-de-chambre would not venture to wake him so early; and I left my compliments to his lordship, with a performance in manuscript, which he had expressed a most eager desire to peruse. I repeated my visit next morning, that his impatience to see me might not have some violent effect upon his constitution; and received a message from his minister, signifying, that he had been highly entertained with the manuscript I had left, a great part of which he had read, but was at present so busy in contriving a proper dress for a private masquerade, which would be given that same evening, that he could not have the pleasure of my company at breakfast. This was a feasible excuse, which I admitted accordingly, and in a day or two appeared again, when his lordship was particularly engaged. This might possibly be the case; and therefore I returned the fourth time, in hopes of finding him more at leisure; but he had gone out about half an hour before my arrival, and left my performance with his valet-de-chambre, who assured me, that his lord had perused it with infinite pleasure. Perhaps I might have retired very well satisfied with this declaration, had not I, in my passage through the hall, heard one of the footmen upon the top of the staircase, pronounce with an audible voice, 'Will your lordship please to be at home when he calls?' It is not to be supposed that I was pleased at this discovery, which I no sooner made, than, turning to my conductor, 'I find,' said I, 'his lordship is disposed to be abroad to more people than me this morning.' The fellow, though a valet-de-chambre, blushed at this observation; and I withdrew, not a little irritated at the peer's disingenuity, and fully resolved to spare him my visits for the future. It was not long after this occasion, that I happened to meet him in the park, and being naturally civil, I could not pass him without a salutation of the hat, which he returned in the most distant manner, though we were both solitary, and not a soul within view, and when that very performance, which he had applauded so warmly, was lately published by subscription, he did not bespeak so much as one copy. I have often reflected with wonder upon this inconsistency of his conduct. I never courted his patronage, nor indeed thought of his name, until he made interest for my acquaintance; and if he was disappointed in my conversation, why did he press me so much to further connection?”
This matter being resolved to everyone's satisfaction, a well-known author stood up and asked for advice and help from his peers in dealing with a certain nobleman with a big ego about his taste. This nobleman, after the author had released a work that received widespread acclaim, not only wanted but actually sought out the author's friendship. "He invited me to his house," the author said, "where I was showered with courtesy and declarations of friendship. He insisted that I treat him like a close friend and drop by anytime, no formalities needed; he even made me promise to have breakfast with him at least three times a week. In short, I considered myself very lucky to receive such attention from someone of his influence and reputation, who could genuinely help me along my journey in life. To show I appreciated his friendship, I visited his house two days later for a chocolate drink as we had agreed; but he was so exhausted from dancing at an event the night before that his servant wouldn’t wake him so early. I left my regards for him along with a manuscript he had eagerly wanted to read. I returned the next morning, hoping his eagerness to see me wouldn’t make him unwell, and received a message from his assistant saying he had really enjoyed the manuscript I left and had read most of it, but was currently busy preparing an outfit for a private masquerade happening that evening, so he couldn't have breakfast with me. I accepted this reasonable excuse and came back a day or two later, when his lordship was particularly occupied. This could have been true, and so I returned for a fourth time, hoping to find him more available; but he had left about half an hour before I arrived and had left my manuscript with his servant, who assured me that his lordship had read it with great pleasure. Perhaps I might have been satisfied with this feedback, had I not heard a footman at the top of the stairs clearly say, 'Will your lordship please be at home when he calls?' Naturally, I was not pleased to hear this, and as I turned to my guide, I said, 'It seems his lordship is trying to avoid more visitors than just me this morning.' The servant, although he was a valet, blushed at my observation, and I left, feeling quite irritated at the nobleman’s dishonesty and fully resolved to stop visiting him in the future. Not long after, I happened to run into him in the park, and being naturally polite, I couldn't walk by without tipping my hat, which he returned in the most aloof manner, even though we were both alone with no one else in sight. When the very work he had praised so enthusiastically was published recently by subscription, he didn’t even order a single copy. I often reflect in amazement on this contradiction in his behavior. I never sought his patronage, nor did I think of his name until he pushed for my friendship; and if he was disappointed by our conversations, why did he insist on pursuing a closer connection?”
“The case is very clear,” cried the chairman, interrupting him; “he is one of those connoisseurs who set up for taste, and value themselves upon knowing all men of genius, whom they would be thought to assist in their productions. I will lay an even bet with any man, that his lordship on the strength of that slender interview, together with the opportunity of having seen your performance in manuscript, has already hinted to every company in which he is conversant, that you solicited his assistance in retouching the piece, which you have now offered to the public, and that he was pleased to favour you with his advice, but found you obstinately bigoted to your own opinion, in some points relating to those very passages which have not met with the approbation of the town. As for his caresses, there was nothing at all extraordinary in his behaviour. By that time you have lived to my age, you will not be surprised to see a courtier's promise and performance of a different complexion; not but that I would willingly act as an auxiliary in your resentment.”
“The situation is pretty clear,” shouted the chairman, cutting him off; “he's one of those experts who pretend to have taste and pride themselves on knowing all the great talents, and they want everyone to think they help these talents with their work. I’d bet anything that based on that brief meeting, plus having seen your manuscript, he’s already implied to every group he’s connected with that you asked for his help in improving the piece you’ve now presented to the public, and that he was nice enough to offer you his advice but found you stubbornly attached to your own views on some points regarding those exact parts that the audience hasn’t liked. As for his flattery, there was really nothing special in how he acted. By the time you reach my age, you won’t be shocked to see a courtier’s promises and actions look completely different; however, I would gladly help you with your anger.”
The opinion of the president was strengthened by the concurrence of all the members; and all other complaints and memorials being deferred till another sitting, the college proceeded to an exercise of wit, which was generally performed once every fortnight, with a view to promote the expectoration of genius. The subject was occasionally chosen by the chairman, who opened the game with some shrewd remark naturally arising from the conversation; and then the ball was tossed about, from one corner of the room to the other, according to the motions of the spirit.
The president's viewpoint was strengthened by the agreement of all the members; and all other complaints and petitions were postponed until the next meeting, so the group moved on to a session of wit, which typically happened every two weeks to encourage creative thinking. The topic was sometimes picked by the chairman, who kicked things off with a clever comment that came up naturally in the conversation; then the ideas were thrown around the room, flowing according to the mood of the discussion.
That the reader may have a just idea of this sport, and of the abilities of those who carried it on, I shall repeat the sallies of this evening, according to the order and succession in which they escaped. One of the members observing that Mr. Metaphor was absent, was told by the person who sat next to him, that the poet had foul weather at home, and could not stir abroad. “What!” said the president, interposing, with the signal upon his countenance, “is he wind-bound, in port?”—“Wine-bound, I suppose,” cried another. “Hooped with wine! a strange metaphor!” said the third. “Not if he has got into a hogshead,” answered the fourth. “The hogshead will sooner get into him,” replied a fifth; “it must be a tun or an ocean.”—“No wonder then, if he should be overwhelmed,” said a sixth. “If he should,” cried a seventh, “he will cast up when his gall breaks.”—“That must be very soon,” roared an eighth, “for it has been long ready to burst.” “No, no,” observed a ninth, “he'll stick fast at the bottom, take my word for it; he has a natural alacrity in sinking.”—“And yet,” remarked a tenth, “I have seen him in the clouds.”—“Then was he cloudy, I suppose,” cried the eleventh. “So dark,” replied the other, “that his meaning could not be perceived.”—“For all that,” said the twelfth, “he is easily seen through.”—“You talk,” answered the thirteenth, “as if his head was made of glass.”—“No, no,” cried the fourteenth, “his head is made of more durable stuff; it will bend before it breaks.”—“Yet I have seen it broken,” resumed the president. “Did you perceive any wit come out at the whole?” said another. “His wit,” replied the chairman, “is too subtle to be perceived.”
To give the reader a clear idea of this sport and the skills of those involved, I'll recount tonight's exchanges in the order they happened. One of the members noted that Mr. Metaphor was missing and was told by the person next to him that the poet was dealing with bad weather at home and couldn't come out. “What!” said the president, stepping in with a knowing look, “is he stuck in port?”—“Probably wine-bound,” joked another. “Hooped with wine! What a weird metaphor!” said a third. “Not if he’s in a barrel,” replied the fourth. “The barrel will get into him before he gets out,” said a fifth; “it must be a tun or even an ocean.” —“No surprise then, if he’s overwhelmed,” said a sixth. “If he is,” shouted a seventh, “he’ll float up when he finally spills over.” —“That should be soon,” bellowed an eighth, “because it’s been ready to burst for a while.” “No, no,” remarked a ninth, “he’ll sink straight to the bottom, trust me; he naturally sinks fast.” —“And yet,” noted a tenth, “I’ve seen him high up in the clouds.” —“Then he was in a bad mood, I guess,” exclaimed the eleventh. “So dark,” replied the other, “that you couldn’t tell what he meant.” —“Despite that,” said the twelfth, “he’s easy to see through.” —“You speak,” answered the thirteenth, “as if his head is made of glass.” —“No, no,” cried the fourteenth, “his head is made of tougher stuff; it will bend before it breaks.” —“Still, I’ve seen it break,” the president continued. “Did you notice any cleverness come from it?” asked another. “His cleverness,” replied the chairman, “is too subtle to notice.”
A third mouth was just open, when the exercise was suddenly interrupted by the dreadful cry of “Fire!” which issued from the kitchen, and involved the whole college in confusion. Every man endeavoured to be the first in making his exit, the door and passage were blocked up; each individual was pommelled by the person that happened to be behind him. This communication produced noise and exclamation; clouds of smoke rolled upwards into the apartment, and terror sat on every brow; when Peregrine, seeing no prospect of retreating by the door, opened one of the windows, and fairly leaped into the street, where he found a crowd of people assembled to contribute their assistance in extinguishing the flames. Several members of the college followed his example, and happily accomplished their escape. The chairman himself, being unwilling to use the same expedient, stood trembling on the brink of descent, dubious of his own agility, and dreading the consequence of such a leap, when a chair happening to pass, he laid hold on the opportunity, and by an exertion of his muscles, pitched upon the top of the carriage, which was immediately overturned in the kennel, to the grievous annoyance of the fare, which happened to be a certain effeminate beau, in full dress, on his way to a private assembly.
A third mouth was just about to speak when a terrifying shout of "Fire!" suddenly came from the kitchen, plunging the entire college into chaos. Everyone scrambled to be the first to get out, blocking the door and hallway; each person was jostled by the one behind them. This rush caused a lot of noise and shouting; clouds of smoke swirled up into the room, and fear was on everyone's face. Seeing no way to escape through the door, Peregrine opened one of the windows and jumped into the street, where a crowd had gathered to help put out the flames. Several other members of the college followed his lead and managed to escape safely. The chairman, however, reluctant to take the same route, stood shaking at the edge, unsure of his own agility and fearing the outcome of such a jump. When a chair happened to pass by, he seized the chance and, with a burst of strength, landed on top of the carriage, which promptly tipped over into the ditch, much to the annoyance of the passenger, an elegantly dressed young man on his way to a private gathering.
This phantom hearing the noise overhead, and feeling the shock of being overthrown at the same time, thought that some whole tenement had fallen upon the chair, and, in the terror of being crushed to pieces, uttered a scream, which the populace supposed to proceed from the mouth of a woman; and therefore went to his assistance, while the chairmen, instead of ministering to his occasions, no sooner recollected themselves, than they ran in pursuit of their overthrower, who, being accustomed to escape from bailiffs, dived into a dark alley, and, vanishing in a trice, was not visible to any living soul, until he appeared next day on Tower-hill.
This ghost, hearing the noise above and feeling the shock of being knocked over at the same time, thought that an entire building had fallen on the chair. In the panic of being crushed, he let out a scream, which the crowd assumed came from a woman. So, they rushed to help him, while the chairmen, instead of helping him, quickly remembered themselves and chased after the person who knocked him over. This person, used to escaping from bailiffs, ducked into a dark alley and disappeared in an instant, remaining unseen by anyone until he showed up the next day at Tower Hill.
The humane part of the mob, who bestirred themselves for the relief of the supposed lady, no sooner perceived their mistake in the appearance of the beau, who stared around him with horror and affright, than their compassion was changed into mirth, and they began to pass a great many unsavoury jokes upon his misfortune, which they now discovered no inclination to alleviate; and he found himself very uncomfortably beset, when Pickle, pitying his situation, interposed in his behalf, and prevailed upon the chairmen to carry him into the house of an apothecary in the neighbourhood, to whom his mischance proved a very advantageous accident; for the fright operated so violently upon his nerves, that he was seized with a delirium, and lay a whole fortnight deprived of his senses; during which period he was not neglected in point of medicines, food, and attendance, but royally regaled, as appeared by the contents of his landlord's bill.
The compassionate part of the crowd, who had rushed to help the supposed lady, quickly realized their mistake when they saw the gentleman, who looked around him with fear and shock. Their sympathy turned into laughter, and they started making a lot of crude jokes about his misfortune, showing no interest in helping him now. He felt very uncomfortable as they surrounded him, but Pickle, feeling sorry for his situation, stepped in on his behalf and convinced the chairmen to take him to a nearby apothecary. This turned out to be a fortunate accident for the apothecary, as the shock hit the gentleman’s nerves so hard that he fell into a delirium and was out of his mind for two whole weeks. During that time, he wasn’t neglected when it came to medication, food, and care; in fact, he was treated like royalty, as shown by the details of his landlord's bill.
Our adventurer having seen this unfortunate beau safely housed, returned to the scene of the other calamity, which, as it was no other than a foul chimney, soon yielded to the endeavours of the family, and was happily overcome, without any other bad consequence than that of alarming the neighbours, disturbing the college, and disordering the brain of a beau. Eager to be acquainted with the particular constitutions of a society which seemed to open upon him by degrees, Mr. Pickle did not fail to appear at the next meeting, when several petitions were laid before the board, in behalf of those members who were confined in the prisons of the Fleet, Marshalsea, and King's Bench. As those unhappy authors expected nothing from their brethren but advice and good offices, which did not concern the purse, the memorials were considered with great care and humanity; and, upon this occasion, Peregrine had it in his power to manifest his importance to the community; for he happened to be acquainted with the creditor of one of the prisoners, and knew that gentleman's severity was owing to his resentment at the behaviour of the debtor, who had lampooned him in print, because he refused to comply with a fresh demand, after he had lent him money to the amount of a considerable sum. Our young gentleman, therefore, understanding that the author was penitent, and disposed to make a reasonable submission, promised to employ his influence with the creditor towards an accommodation; and in a few days actually obtained his release.
Our adventurer, having ensured the unfortunate gentleman was safely taken care of, returned to the site of the other disaster, which turned out to be a troublesome chimney. Thankfully, with the family's efforts, it was quickly resolved, causing no more trouble than alarming the neighbors, disturbing the college, and messing with the mind of a gentleman. Eager to learn about the specifics of a society that seemed to gradually unfold before him, Mr. Pickle made sure to attend the next meeting, where several petitions were presented to the board on behalf of members imprisoned in Fleet, Marshalsea, and King's Bench. As those unfortunate individuals anticipated nothing from their peers but advice and kind gestures that didn’t involve money, the petitions were considered with great attention and compassion. On this occasion, Peregrine had the chance to show his significance to the community because he happened to know the creditor of one of the prisoners. He was aware that the creditor's harshness stemmed from his anger over the debtor's actions, as the debtor had ridiculed him publicly for refusing to meet a new demand after already lending him a substantial amount. Understanding that the author regretted his actions and was willing to make a fair apology, our young gentleman promised to use his influence with the creditor to help reach a settlement, and within a few days, he actually secured the prisoner’s release.
The social duties being discharged, the conversation took a general turn, and several new productions were freely criticised; those especially which belonged to authors who were either unconnected with, or unknown to the college. Nor did the profession of stage-playing escape the cognizance of the assembly; a deputation of the most judicious members being sent weekly to each theatre, with a view of making remarks upon the performance of the actors. The censors for the preceding week were accordingly called upon to give in their report; and the play which they had reviewed was “the Revenge.”
The social obligations taken care of, the conversation shifted to general topics, and several new works were openly critiqued; particularly those by authors who were either not connected to or unknown by the college. The profession of acting was also on the assembly’s radar; a group of the most astute members was sent every week to each theater to provide feedback on the performances of the actors. The censors from the previous week were called to present their report, and the play they reviewed was “the Revenge.”
“Mr. Q—,” said the second censor, “take him all in all, is certainly the most complete and unblemished performer that ever appeared on our stage, notwithstanding the blind adoration which is paid to his rival. I went two nights ago, with an express design to criticise his action. I could find no room for censure, but infinite subject for admiration and applause. In Pierre he is great, in Othello excellent, but in Zanga beyond all imitation. Over and above the distinctness of pronunciation, the dignity of attitude, and expression of face, his gestures are so just and significant, that a man, though utterly bereft of the sense of hearing, might, by seeing him only, understand the meaning of every word he speaks! Sure nothing can be more exquisite than his manner of telling Isabella how Alonzo behaved, when he found the incendiary letter which he had dropped by the Moor's direction; and when, to crown his vengeance, he discovers himself to be the contriver of all the mischief that had happened, he manifests a perfect masterpiece of action, in pronouncing these four little monosyllables, 'Know, then, 'twas—I.'”
“Mr. Q—,” said the second censor, “overall, he's definitely the most complete and flawless performer to ever take our stage, despite the blind admiration directed at his rival. Two nights ago, I attended with the specific intention of critiquing his performance. I found no grounds for criticism, only endless reasons for admiration and applause. In Pierre, he’s outstanding; in Othello, he's excellent; but in Zanga, he's truly unmatched. In addition to his clear pronunciation, dignified posture, and expressive face, his gestures are so precise and meaningful that even someone completely deaf could understand the meaning behind every word he says just by watching him! Nothing could be more exquisite than the way he tells Isabella how Alonzo reacted when he found the incendiary letter that he had dropped by the Moor's instruction; and when he finally reveals himself as the mastermind behind all the chaos, he delivers a perfect display of acting with those four little monosyllables, 'Know, then, 'twas—I.'”
Peregrine having eyed the critic some minutes, “I fancy,” said he, “your praise must be ironical, because, in the very two situations you mention, I think I have seen that player outherod Herod, or, in other words, exceed all his other extravagances. The intention of the author is, that the Moor should communicate to his confidant a piece of information contained in a few lines, which, doubtless, ought to be repeated with an air of eagerness and satisfaction, not with the ridiculous grimace of a monkey, to which, methought, his action bore an intimate resemblance, in uttering this plain sentence:—
Peregrine, having watched the critic for a few minutes, said, “I have a feeling your praise is sarcastic because, in the two situations you mentioned, I think I've seen that actor outdo Herod, or in other words, go beyond all his usual exaggerations. The author's intention is for the Moor to share a piece of information with his confidant that should definitely be delivered with enthusiasm and satisfaction, not with the silly face of a monkey, which, to me, his expression closely resembled while delivering this simple line:—
——He took it up:
But scarce was it unfolded to his sight,
When he, as if an arrow pierc'd his eye,
Started, and trembling dropp'd it on the ground.
——He picked it up:
But barely had he unfolded it in front of him,
When he, as if pierced by an arrow,
Jumped back and trembling dropped it on the ground.“In pronouncing the first two words, this egregious actor stoops down, and seems to take up something from the stage, then proceeding to repeat what follows, mimics the manner of unfolding a letter; when he mentions the simile of an arrow piercing the eye, he darts his forefinger towards that organ, then recoils with great violence when the word 'started' is expressed; and when he comes to 'trembling dropp'd it on the ground,' he throws all his limbs into a tremulous motion, and shakes the imaginary paper from his hand. The latter part of the description is carried on with the same minute gesticulation, while he says:—
“In saying the first two words, this outrageous actor bends down and seems to pick something up from the stage. Then, as he continues, he mimics the action of unfolding a letter. When he talks about the example of an arrow hitting the eye, he jabs his forefinger towards that eye, then violently recoils when he says the word 'started.' When he gets to 'trembling dropp'd it on the ground,' he makes all his limbs shake, throwing the imaginary paper out of his hand. He continues describing the scene with the same detailed gestures while he says:—
Pale and aghast awhile my victim stood,
Disguis'd a sigh or two, and puff'd them from him;
Then rubb'd his brow, and took it up again.
Pale and shocked for a moment, my victim stood,
Suppressed a sigh or two, and blew them away;
Then rubbed his forehead and picked it up again.The player's countenance assumes a wild stare, he sighs twice most piteously, as if he were on the point of suffocation, scrubs his forehead, and, bending his body, apes the action of snatching an object from the floor. Nor is this dexterity of dumb-show omitted, when he concludes his imitation in these three lines:—
The player's expression takes on a wild look, he sighs twice very sadly, as if he's about to suffocate, wipes his forehead, and, bending over, mimics the action of grabbing something from the floor. This skillful pantomime doesn't stop there, as he finishes his imitation with these three lines:—
At first he look'd as if he meant to read it;
But check'd by rising fears, he crushed it thus,
And thrust it, like an adder, in his bosom.
At first, he seemed like he was going to read it;
But held back by growing fears, he crushed it like this,
And shoved it, like a snake, into his chest.“Here the judicious performer imitates the confusion and concern of Alonzo, seems to cast his eyes upon something, from which they are immediately withdrawn with horror and precipitation then shutting his fist with a violent squeeze, as if he intended to make immediate application to Isabella's nose, he rams it in his own bosom, with all the horror and agitation of a thief taken in the manner. Were the player debarred the use of speech, and obliged to act to the eyes only of the audience, this mimicry might be a necessary conveyance of his meaning; but when he is at liberty to signify his ideas by language, nothing can be more trivial, forced, unnatural, and antic, than this mummery. Not that I would exclude from the representation the graces of action, without which the choicest sentiments, clothed in the most exquisite expression, would appear unanimated and insipid; but these are as different from this ridiculous burlesque, as is the demeanour of a Tully in the rostrum, from the tricks of a Jack-pudding on a mountebank's stage. And, for the truth of what I allege, I appeal to the observation of any person who has considered the elegance of attitude and propriety of gesture, as they are universally acknowledged in the real characters of life. Indeed, I have known a Gascon, whose limbs were eloquent as his tongue: he never mentioned the word sleep without reclining his head upon his hand; when he had occasion to talk of a horse, he always started up and trotted across the room, except when he was so situated that he could not stir without incommoding the company, and in that case he contented himself with neighing aloud. If a dog happened to be the subject of his conversation, he wagged his tail, and grinned in a most significant manner; and one day he expressed his desire of going backwards with such natural imitation of his purpose, that everybody in the room firmly believed he had actually overshot himself, and fortified their nostrils accordingly. Yet no man ever looked upon this virtuoso to be the standard of propriety in point of speaking and deportment. For my own part, I confess the player in question would, by dint of these qualifications, make a very good figure in the character of Pantaloon's lacquey, in the entertainment of 'Perseus and Andromeda,' and perhaps might acquire some reputation, by turning 'the Revenge' into a pantomime; in which case, I would advise him to come upon the stage, provided with a handful of flour, in order to besmear his face when he pronounces 'pale and aghast,' etc.; and methinks he ought to illustrate the adder with a hideous hiss. But let us now come to the other situation, in which this modern Aesopus is supposed to distinguish himself so much—I mean that same eclaircissement comprehended in 'Know then, 'twas—I.' His manner, I own, may be altered since I was present at the representation of that performance; but certain I am, when I beheld him in that critical conjuncture, his behaviour appeared to me so uncouth, that I really imagined he was visited by some epileptic distemper; for he stood tottering and gasping for the space of two minutes, like a man suddenly struck with the palsy; and, after various distortions and side-shakings, as if he had got fleas in his doublet, heaved up from his lungs the letter I, like a huge anchor from foul ground.”
“Here, the skilled performer mimics Alonzo's confusion and worry, glancing at something before looking away in horror and panic. Then, clenching his fist tightly, as if he plans to jab it at Isabella's nose, he shoves it into his chest, displaying the panic and distress of a thief caught red-handed. If the actor couldn't use words and had to express himself purely through actions for the audience, this mimicry might be a fitting way to convey his meaning; however, when he can express his thoughts through language, nothing seems more trivial, forced, unnatural, and silly than this kind of performance. I’m not saying that we should eliminate the grace of movement, because without it, even the best sentiments beautifully expressed would seem dull and lifeless; but this is as different from that ridiculous charade as Cicero speaking in the forum is from the antics of a clown at a fair. And to support my claim, I invite anyone who’s observed the elegance and appropriateness of body language in real life to consider. I actually knew a Gascon whose gestures were as expressive as his words: he would mention "sleep" while leaning his head on his hand; when talking about a horse, he’d leap up and trot around the room, except when he felt he’d disrupt the others, and in that case, he contented himself with loud neighing. If he discussed a dog, he wagged his imaginary tail and grinned in a very meaningful way; and one day, when he expressed his wish to move backward, he did it with such naturalistic imitation that everyone in the room believed he had truly overstepped and reacted accordingly. Yet no one ever considered this virtuoso a standard of proper speaking and behavior. Personally, I think this actor would fit nicely as Pantaloon's servant in the show 'Perseus and Andromeda' and might gain some fame if he turned 'the Revenge' into a pantomime; in that case, I’d suggest he come on stage with a handful of flour to smear on his face whenever he says 'pale and aghast,' and perhaps he should add a horrifying hiss to illustrate an adder. Now let’s move to the other scenario, where this modern Aesop is said to shine—I mean the moment captured in 'Know then, 'twas—I.' His performance may have changed since I last saw that show; however, I distinctly remember that during that crucial moment, his behavior struck me as so awkward that I genuinely thought he was having an epileptic fit. He stood there swaying and gasping for two minutes, like someone suddenly afflicted by paralysis; then after various contortions and shudders, as if he had fleas in his clothes, he finally released the letter I, like a heavy anchor being pulled from muddy waters.”
This criticism was acceptable to the majority of the college, who had no great veneration for the player in question; and his admirer, without making any reply, asked in a whisper, of the gentleman who sat next to him, if Pickle had not offered some production to the stage, and met with a repulse.
This criticism was fine with most of the college, who didn’t hold the player in high regard; and his fan, without responding, quietly asked the gentleman next to him if Pickle hadn’t tried to present something on stage, but got rejected.
CHAPTER XCV.
The young Gentleman is introduced to a Virtuoso of the first Order, and commences Yelper.
The young gentleman meets a top-notch virtuoso and starts to yelp.
Hitherto Peregrine had professed himself an author, without reaping the fruits of that occupation, except the little fame he had acquired by his late satire; but now he thought it high time to weigh solid pudding against empty praise; and therefore engaged with some booksellers in a certain translation, which he obliged himself to perform for the consideration of two hundred pounds. The articles of agreement being drawn, he began his task with great eagerness, rose early in the morning to his work, at which he laboured all day long, went abroad with the bats in the evening, and appeared in the coffee-house, where he amused himself with the newspapers and conversation till nine o'clock; then he retired to his own apartment, and, after a slight repast, betook himself to rest, that he might be able to unroost with the cock. This sudden change from his former way of life agreed so ill with his disposition, that, for the first time, he was troubled with flatulencies and indigestion, which produced anxiety and dejection of spirits, and the nature of his situation began in some measure to discompose his brain; a discovery which he no sooner made, than he had recourse to the advice of a young physician, who was a member of the college of authors, at this time one of our hero's most intimate acquaintance.
Until now, Peregrine had called himself an author without actually enjoying the benefits of that title, apart from the little fame he gained from his recent satire. But now he decided it was time to balance real rewards against empty praise, so he teamed up with some booksellers for a translation project that he agreed to complete for two hundred pounds. Once the contract was set, he started his work with great enthusiasm, getting up early each morning and working all day long. In the evenings, he went out with the bats and then visited the coffee house, where he entertained himself with newspapers and discussions until nine o'clock. After that, he returned to his room, had a light meal, and went to bed so he could wake up with the rooster. This sudden shift from his previous lifestyle didn't sit well with him; for the first time, he experienced bloating and indigestion, which caused him anxiety and a gloomy mood. The nature of his situation began to disturb his mind, and as soon as he realized this, he sought advice from a young physician who was part of the authors' college and one of Peregrine's closest friends at the time.
The son of Esculapius, having considered his case, imputed his disorder to the right cause, namely, want of exercise; dissuaded him from such close application to study, until he should be gradually familiarized to a sedentary life; advised him to enjoy his friend and his bottle in moderation, and wean himself from his former customs by degrees; and, above all things, to rise immediately after his first sleep, and exercise himself in a morning's walk. In order to render this last part of the prescription the more palatable, the doctor promised to attend him in these early excursions, and even to introduce him to a certain personage of note, who gave a sort of public breakfasting to the minor virtuosi of the age, and often employed his interest in behalf of those who properly cultivated his countenance and approbation.
The son of Esculapius, after assessing his situation, attributed his problem to the obvious cause: lack of exercise. He advised him to take breaks from intense studying until he got used to a sedentary lifestyle. He suggested enjoying time with friends and drinks in moderation and gradually moving away from his old habits. Most importantly, he urged him to get up right after his first sleep and take a morning walk. To make this last recommendation more appealing, the doctor offered to join him on these early outings and even promised to introduce him to a well-known individual who hosted public breakfasts for up-and-coming talent of the era and often used his influence to help those who properly earned his favor and support.
This proposal was extremely acceptable to our young gentleman, who, besides the advantage which might accrue to him from such a valuable connection, foresaw much entertainment and satisfaction in the discourse of so many learned guests. The occasions of his health and interest, moreover, coincided in another circumstance; the minister's levee being kept betimes in the morning, so that he could perform his walk, yield his attendance, and breakfast at this philosophical board, without encroaching a great deal upon his other avocations. Measures being thus preconcerted, the physician conducted our adventurer to the house of this celebrated sage, to whom he recommended him as a gentleman of genius and taste, who craved the honour of his acquaintance; but he had previously smoothed the way to his introduction, by representing Peregrine as a young fellow of great ambition, spirit, and address, who could not fail to make a figure in the world; that therefore he would be a creditable addition to the subordinates of such a patron, and by his qualifications, intrepidity, and warmth of temper, turn out a consummate herald of his fame. Upon these considerations, he met with a most engaging reception from the entertainer, who was a well-bred man, of some learning, generosity, and taste; but his foible was the desire of being thought the inimitable pattern of all three.
This proposal was very appealing to our young gentleman, who, besides the benefits he could gain from such a valuable connection, expected to have a lot of fun and enjoy the conversations with so many knowledgeable guests. Additionally, his health and interests aligned with another factor; the minister’s gathering took place early in the morning, allowing him to go for his walk, attend the meeting, and have breakfast at this philosophical gathering without interrupting his other commitments too much. With everything arranged, the physician took our adventurer to the home of this famous sage, introducing him as a man of intellect and taste who sought the honor of meeting him. However, he had already paved the way for this introduction by portraying Peregrine as a young man of great ambition, energy, and charm, someone who would undoubtedly make a mark in the world; thus, he would be a respectable addition to the inner circle of such a patron, and with his skills, bravery, and enthusiasm, he could become a remarkable promoter of his reputation. Given these points, the host welcomed him warmly, being a cultured man with some education, generosity, and appreciation for the arts; however, his weakness was a desire to be seen as the perfect example of all three.
It was with a view to acquire and support this character, that his house was open to all those who had any pretensions to literature; consequently he was surrounded by a strange variety of pretenders; but none were discouraged, because he knew that even the most insignificant might, in some shape, conduce to the propagation of his praise. A babbler, though he cannot run upon the scent, may spring the game, and, by his yelping, help to fill up the cry. No wonder, then, that a youth of Pickle's accomplishments was admitted and even invited into the pack. After having enjoyed a very short private audience in the closet, our young gentleman was shown into another room, where half a dozen of his fellow-adherents waited for the Maecenas, who in a few minutes appeared, with a most gracious aspect, received the compliments of the morning, and sat down to breakfast, in the midst of them, without any further ceremony.
It was to acquire and support this character that his house was open to anyone with any literary ambitions; as a result, he found himself surrounded by a strange mix of wannabes. However, none felt discouraged because he understood that even the least important voices could somehow contribute to his reputation. A talker, even if he can't track a scent, might still flush out the game and, with his barking, help fill the chorus. So, it’s no surprise that a young man with Pickle's talents was welcomed and even invited into the group. After enjoying a brief private audience in the study, our young gentleman was shown into another room, where half a dozen other supporters were waiting for the Maecenas, who shortly appeared with a very gracious demeanor, received the morning greetings, and sat down to breakfast among them, without any further fuss.
The conversation at first turned upon the weather, which was investigated in a very philosophical manner by one of the company, who seemed to have consulted all the barometers and thermometers that ever were invented, before he would venture to affirm that it was a chill morning. This subject being accurately discussed, the chief inquired about the news of the learned world; and his inclination was no sooner expressed than every guest opened his mouth, in order to ratify his curiosity. But he that first captivated his attention was a meagre, shrivelled antiquary, who looked like an animated mummy, which had been scorched among the sands of the desert. He told the patron, that he had, by accident, met with a medal, which, though it was defaced by time, he would venture to pronounce a genuine antique, from the ringing and taste of the metal, as well as from the colour and composition of the rust. So saying, he produced a piece of copper coin, so consumed and disguised by age, that scarce a vestige of the impression was to be perceived. Nevertheless, this connoisseur pretended to distinguish a face in profile, from which he concluded that the piece was of the Upper Empire, and on the reverse he endeavoured to point out the bulb of the spear, and part of the parazonium, which were the insignia of the Roman Virtus, together with the fragment of one fold of the multicium in which she was clothed. He likewise had discovered an angle of the letter N, and, at some distance, an entire I; from these circumstances conjecturing, and indeed concluding, that the medal was struck by Severus, in honour of the victory he obtained over his rival Niger, after he had forced the passes of Mount Taurus. This criticism seemed very satisfactory to the entertainer, who, having examined the coin by the help of his spectacles, plainly discerned the particulars which the owner had mentioned, and was pleased to term his account of the matter a very ingenious explanation.
The conversation initially focused on the weather, which one of the guests analyzed in a very thoughtful way, having seemingly checked every barometer and thermometer ever made before he would confidently say it was a chilly morning. After discussing this topic thoroughly, the host asked about the latest news from the learned community; as soon as he brought up his interest, every guest chimed in to satisfy his curiosity. The one who first caught his attention was a thin, wrinkled antiquarian, resembling a living mummy that had been scorched in the desert sands. He told the host that he had stumbled upon a medal that, despite being worn down by time, he would confidently declare a genuine antique based on the sound and quality of the metal, as well as the color and texture of the rust. With that, he pulled out a piece of copper coin, so eroded and altered by age that hardly any trace of the design remained. Still, this expert claimed to see a profile of a face, leading him to deduce that the coin was from the Upper Empire. On the other side, he tried to identify the bulb of a spear and part of the parazonium, which were symbols of Roman Virtus, along with a fragment of one fold of the multicium she wore. He also identified an angle of the letter N and, a bit further away, a complete I, concluding that the coin was minted by Severus in honor of his victory over his rival Niger, after passing through the routes of Mount Taurus. This analysis seemed to please the host, who, having examined the coin with his glasses, could clearly see the details the owner mentioned and found his explanation quite clever.
The curiosity was circulated through the hands of all present, and every virtuoso, in his turn, licked the copper, and rung it upon the hearth, declaring his assent to the judgment which had been pronounced. At length it fell under the inspection of our young gentleman, who, though no antiquarian, was very well acquainted with the current coin of his own country, and no sooner cast his eyes upon the valuable antique, than he affirmed, without hesitation, that it was no other than the ruins of an English farthing, and that same spear, parazonium, and multicium, the remains of the emblems and drapery with which the figure of Britannia is delineated on our copper money. This hardy asseveration seemed to disconcert the patron while it incensed the medallist, who, grinning like an enraged baboon, “What d'ye tell me of a brass farthing?” said he. “Did you ever know modern brass of such a relish? Do but taste it, young gentleman; and sure I am, if you have ever been conversant with subjects of this kind, you will find as wide a difference in the savour between this and an English farthing as can possibly be perceived betwixt an onion and a turnip. Besides, this medal has the true Corinthian ring; then the attitude is upright, whereas that of Britannia is reclining; and how is it possible to mistake a branch of palm for a parazonium?”
Curiosity passed around among everyone there, and each expert took their turn examining the piece, tapping it against the hearth, agreeing with the judgment that had been made. Eventually, it came under the scrutiny of our young gentleman, who, although not an expert on antiques, was quite familiar with the current coins of his own country. As soon as he laid eyes on the valuable antique, he confidently declared that it was merely the remains of an English farthing, along with the spear, parazonium, and multicium—pieces representing the emblems and drapery of Britannia on our copper money. This bold claim seemed to fluster the patron and infuriated the medallist, who, grinning like an angry baboon, said, "What are you talking about, a brass farthing? Have you ever seen modern brass that tastes like this? Just taste it, young man; I’m sure if you’ve ever dealt with anything like this, you’ll notice as much of a difference in flavor between this and an English farthing as you would between an onion and a turnip. Besides, this medal has the genuine Corinthian ring; look at how it's upright, while Britannia is reclining; and how could you confuse a palm branch with a parazonium?"
All the rest of the company espoused the virtuoso's side of the question, because the reputation of each was concerned. The patron, finding himself in the same circumstance, assumed a solemnity of feature, dashed with a small mixture of displeasure, and told Peregrine, that as he had not made that branch of literature his particular study, he was not surprised to see him mistaken in his opinion. Pickle immediately understood the reproof, though he was shocked at the vanity or infatuation of his entertainer and fellow-guests; asked pardon for his presumption, which was accordingly excused, in consideration of his inexperience; and the English farthing was dignified with the title of a true antique.
Everyone else in the group supported the virtuoso’s perspective because their own reputations were at stake. The patron, finding himself in the same position, put on a serious face mixed with a hint of displeasure and told Peregrine that since he hadn’t made that area of literature his specific focus, he wasn’t surprised to see him mistaken in his views. Pickle immediately caught the hint, although he was taken aback by the arrogance or delusion of his host and fellow guests. He apologized for his assumption, which was graciously accepted, given his lack of experience, and the English farthing was treated with respect as a genuine antique.
The next person that addressed himself to the chief was a gentleman of a very mathematical turn, who valued himself upon the improvements he had made in several domestic machines, and now presented the plan of a new contrivance for cutting cabbages, in such a manner as would secure the stock against the rotting rain, and enable it to produce a plenteous aftercrop of delicious sprouts. In this important machine he had united the whole mechanic powers, with such massy complication of iron and wood, that it could not have been moved without the assistance of a horse, and a road made for the convenience of the draught. These objections were so obvious, that they occurred at first sight to the inspector-general, who greatly commended the invention, which, he observed, might be applied to several other useful purposes, could it once be rendered a little more portable and commodious.
The next person who spoke to the chief was a man with a knack for math, who took pride in the improvements he had made to various household machines. He presented a plan for a new device to cut cabbages in a way that would protect the stock from rotting in the rain and allow for a bountiful aftercrop of tasty sprouts. This important machine combined all the mechanical powers with a heavy mix of iron and wood, making it impossible to move without the help of a horse and a specially made road for easier transport. These issues were so obvious that they were immediately clear to the inspector-general, who praised the invention, noting that it could serve many other useful purposes if it could be made a bit more portable and user-friendly.
The inventor, who had not foreseen these difficulties, was not prepared to surmount them; but he took the hint in good part, and promised to task his abilities anew, in altering the construction of his design. Not but that he underwent some severe irony from the rest of the virtuosi, who complimented him upon the momentous improvement he had made, by which a family might save a dish of greens in a quarter, for so trifling an expense as that of purchasing, working, and maintaining such a stupendous machine; but no man was ever more sarcastic in his remarks upon this piece of mechanism than the naturalist, who next appealed to the patron's approbation for a curious disposition he had made touching the procreation of muck-flies, in which he had laid down a curious method of collecting, preserving, and hatching the eggs of these insects, even in the winter, by certain modifications of artificial heat. The nature of this discovery was no sooner communicated, than Peregrine, unable to contain himself, was seized with a fit of laughter, which infected every person at the table, the landlord himself not excepted, who found it impossible to preserve his wonted gravity of face.
The inventor, who hadn't anticipated these challenges, wasn't ready to overcome them; however, he took the feedback well and promised to refine his design. This didn’t stop the other experts from making sharp jokes about his so-called major improvement, which was supposed to help a family save a dish of greens every quarter for the small cost of buying, operating, and maintaining such a huge machine. But no one was more sarcastic about this invention than the naturalist, who then sought the patron's approval for an interesting arrangement he had devised regarding the breeding of muck-flies. He had outlined a unique method for collecting, preserving, and hatching the eggs of these insects even during winter, by using specific artificial heating techniques. As soon as this discovery was shared, Peregrine couldn't contain his laughter, which spread to everyone at the table, including the landlord, who found it impossible to keep a serious face.
Such unmannerly mirth did not fail to mortify the philosopher, who, after some pause, during which indignation and disdain were painted in his countenance, reprehended our young gentleman for his unphilosophical behaviour, and undertook to prove, that the subject of his inquiry was of infinite consequence to the progress and increase of natural knowledge. But he found no quarter from the vengeful engineer, who now retorted his ironical compliments, with great emphasis, upon this hotbed for the generation of vermin, and advised him to lay the whole process before the Royal Society, which would, doubtless, present him with a medal, and give him a place among their memoirs, as a distinguished promoter of the useful arts. “If,” said he, “you had employed your studies in finding out some effectual method to destroy those insects which prejudice and annoy mankind, in all probability you must have been contented with the contemplation of the good you had done; but this curious expedient for multiplying maggots will surely entitle you to an honourable rank in the list of learned philosophers.”—“I don't wonder,” replied the naturalist, “that you should be so much averse to the propagation of insects, because, in all likelihood, you are afraid that they will not leave you a cabbage to cut down with the same miraculous machine.”—“Sir,” answered the mechanic, with great bitterness of voice and aspect, “if the cabbage be as light-headed as some muck-worm philosophers, it will not be worth cutting down.”—“I never dispute upon cabbage with the son of a cucumber,” said the fly-breeder, alluding to the pedigree of his antagonist; who, impatient of the affront, started up with fury in his looks, exclaiming, “'Sdeath! meaning me, sir?”
Such rude laughter seriously upset the philosopher, who, after a pause during which anger and disdain showed clearly on his face, scolded our young gentleman for his unphilosophical behavior. He took it upon himself to prove that the subject of his inquiry was incredibly important for the growth and development of natural knowledge. But he received no mercy from the spiteful engineer, who shot back his sarcastic comments with emphasis on this breeding ground for pests and suggested he present the whole process to the Royal Society, which would surely award him a medal and feature him in their publications as a noteworthy contributor to practical arts. “If,” he said, “you had spent your time finding an effective way to get rid of those insects that annoy and harm humanity, you would probably be satisfied just thinking about the good you did. But this clever way to multiply maggots will certainly earn you a respectable spot among learned philosophers.” —“I’m not surprised,” replied the naturalist, “that you dislike the spread of insects, since you’re likely worried they won’t leave you with a cabbage to harvest using your miraculous machine.” —“Sir,” said the mechanic, with bitterness in his voice and expression, “if the cabbage is as foolish as some of those muddle-headed philosophers, it won’t be worth harvesting.” —“I never argue about cabbages with the offspring of cucumbers,” said the fly-breeder, referring to his opponent’s lineage. The offended adversary jumped up, furious, exclaiming, “What the devil! Are you talking about me, sir?”
Here the patron, perceiving things drawing towards a rupture, interposed his authority, rebuking them for their intemperance and recommending to them amity and concord against the Goths and Vandals of the age, who took all opportunities of ridiculing and discouraging the adherents of knowledge and philosophy. After this exhortation, they had no pretence for carrying on the dispute, which was dropped in all appearance, though the mechanic still retained his resentment; and after breakfast, when the company broke up, accosted his adversary in the street, desiring to know how he durst be so insolent as to make that scurrilous reflection upon his family. The fly-fancier, thus questioned, accused the mathematician of having been the aggressor, in likening his head to a light cabbage; and here the altercation being renewed, the engineer proceeded to the illustration of his mechanics, tilting up his hand like a balance, thrusting it forward by way of lever, embracing the naturalist's nose like a wedge betwixt two of his fingers, and turning it round, with the momentum of a screw or peritrochium. Had they been obliged to decide the dispute with equal arms, the assailant would have had great advantage over the other, who was very much his inferior in muscular strength; but the philosopher being luckily provided with a cane, no sooner disengaged himself from this opprobrious application, than he handled his weapon with great dexterity about the head and shoulders of his antagonist, who, finding this shower of blows very disagreeable, was fain to betake himself to his heels for shelter, and was pursued by the angry victor, who chased him from one end of the street to the other, affording unspeakable satisfaction to the multitude, as well as to our hero and to his introductor, who were spectators of the whole scene.
Here, the patron, noticing things were about to get heated, stepped in with his authority, scolding them for their lack of self-control and urging them to unite against the Goths and Vandals of the day, who took every chance to mock and undermine supporters of knowledge and philosophy. After this speech, they had no reason to continue the argument, which seemed to be dropped, although the mechanic still held onto his anger. After breakfast, when the group dispersed, he confronted his opponent in the street, asking how he dared to be so rude as to insult his family. The fly-fancier, when questioned, accused the mathematician of starting it by comparing his head to a light cabbage. As the argument flared up again, the engineer demonstrated his mechanics, raising his hand like a balance, pushing it forward like a lever, and pinching the naturalist's nose between two fingers, twisting it with the force of a screw. Had they been forced to resolve the dispute physically, the attacker would have had a clear advantage due to his superior strength; however, the philosopher, being lucky enough to have a cane, quickly freed himself from this embarrassing situation and skillfully wielded his weapon against his opponent's head and shoulders. The mechanic, finding this relentless assault quite unpleasant, had no choice but to run for cover, while the furious victor chased him from one end of the street to the other, delighting the onlookers, as well as our hero and his introducer, who observed the entire spectacle.
Thus was our adventurer initiated into the society of Yelpers, though he did not as yet fully understand the nature of his office, which was explained by the young physician, who chid him for his blunt behaviour in the case of the medal; and gave him to understand, that their patron's favour was neither to be gained nor preserved by any man that would pretend to convict him of a mistake. He therefore counselled him to respect this foible, and cultivate the old gentleman with all the zeal and veneration which a regard to his own character would permit him to say. This task was the easier to one of our young gentleman's pliant disposition, because the virtuoso's behaviour was absolutely free from that insolent self-conceit, which he could not bear without disgust. The senior was, on the contrary, mild and beneficent; and Pickle was rather pleased than shocked at his weakness; because it flattered his vanity with the supposition of his own superior sense. Cautioned in this manner, Peregrine profited so much by his insinuating qualifications, that, in a very little time, he was looked upon as one of the chief favourites of the patron, to whom he dedicated a small occasional poem; and everybody believed he would reap the fruits of his attachment among the first of the old gentleman's dependents.
So, our adventurer was brought into the Yelpers community, though he didn't fully grasp the role he was stepping into. The young doctor explained it to him, scolding him for his bluntness regarding the medal. He made it clear that their patron's favor was not something anyone could earn or keep by pointing out mistakes. He advised him to be respectful of this quirk and treat the old gentleman with as much enthusiasm and respect as his own reputation would allow. This task was easier for someone with our young gentleman's adaptable nature because the virtuoso wasn't burdened by that arrogant self-importance, which he found unbearable. The older man was kind and generous, and Pickle found himself more amused than appalled by his weaknesses because it boosted his own vanity, suggesting he was more perceptive. With this advice in mind, Peregrine skillfully used his charm, and in no time, he was viewed as one of the patron's top favorites, even dedicating a small poem to him. Everyone believed he would soon enjoy the rewards of his loyalty among the old gentleman's closest associates.
CHAPTER XCVI.
Peregrine, finding himself neglected by Sir Steady Steerwell, expostulates with him in a Letter; in consequence of which he is forbid his House, loses his Pension, and incurs the charge of Lunacy.
Peregrine, feeling ignored by Sir Steady Steerwell, writes him a letter expressing his frustration; as a result, he is banned from his house, loses his pension, and is accused of being insane.
This prospect of success, together with his expectations from the minister, whom he did not neglect, helped to comfort him under the reverse of fortune which he had undergone, and the uncertainty of the lawsuit, which he still maintained for the recovery of his ten thousand pounds. The lawyers, indeed, continued to drain his pocket of money, while they filled his brain with unsubstantial hope; and he was actually obliged to borrow money from his bookseller, on the strength of the translation, in order to satisfy the demands of those ravenous harpies, rather than lay the misanthrope under any difficulties, or have recourse to his friend Hatchway, who lived at the garrison, entirely ignorant of his distress. This was not at all alleviated by the arrival of the Indiaman, in which he had ventured seven hundred pounds, as we have already observed; for he was given to understand, that the borrower was left dangerously ill at Bombay when the ship sailed, and that his chance for retrieving his money was extremely slender.
This possibility of success, along with his hopes from the minister, whom he didn’t overlook, helped to ease his mind after the setbacks he had faced and the uncertainty of the lawsuit he was still pursuing to recover his ten thousand pounds. The lawyers continued to empty his pockets while filling his head with empty hopes; he even had to borrow money from his bookseller, backed by the translation, just to meet the demands of those greedy vultures, rather than put the misanthrope in a tough spot or reach out to his friend Hatchway, who lived at the garrison and was completely unaware of his troubles. This situation wasn’t improved by the arrival of the Indiaman, in which he had invested seven hundred pounds, as we have previously mentioned; he was informed that the borrower was seriously ill in Bombay when the ship left, and that his chances of getting his money back were very slim.
So situated, it is not to be supposed that he led a life of tranquility, though he made a shift to struggle with the remonstrances of misfortune. Yet such a gush of affliction would sometimes rush upon his thought, as overwhelmed all the ideas of his hope, and sunk him to the very bottom of despondence. Every equipage that passed him in the street, every person of rank and fortune that occurred to his view, recalled the gay images of his former life, with such mortifying reflection as stabbed him to the very soul. He lived, therefore, incessantly exposed to all the pangs of envy and disquiet. When I say envy, I do not mean that sordid passion, in consequence of which a man repines at his neighbour's success, howsoever deserved: but that self-tormenting indignation which is inspired by the prosperity of folly, ignorance, and vice. Without the intervening gleams of enjoyment, which he felt in the conversation of a few friends, he could not have supported his existence; or, at least, he must have suffered some violent discomposure of the brain. But one is still finding some circumstance of alleviation, even in the worst of conjunctures, and Pickle was so ingenious in these researches, that he maintained a good battle with disappointment, till the revolution of the term at which he had received his pension of three hundred pounds.
So, given his situation, it wouldn’t be accurate to say he had a peaceful life, even though he managed to deal with the challenges that came his way. However, there were times when overwhelming sadness would hit him so hard that it wiped out all his hopes and left him feeling utterly hopeless. Every fancy carriage that passed by and every wealthy person he saw reminded him of the joyful moments of his past, and these memories were so painful they felt like a stab to his heart. He lived constantly open to the pains of jealousy and unease. When I mention jealousy, I’m not talking about that petty feeling that makes someone resent their neighbor’s success, no matter how deserved it is; I mean that self-inflicted anger that comes from the success of ignorance, folly, and wrongdoing. Without the occasional moments of joy he got from spending time with a few friends, he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep going; or at least, he would have faced some serious mental turmoil. But he always found some silver lining, even in the toughest times, and Pickle was so skilled at discovering these small comforts that he managed to keep fighting against his disappointments until the time came for him to receive his pension of three hundred pounds.
However, seeing the day elapse without touching his allowance, notwithstanding his significant method of presenting himself at the minister's levee, when the year was expired, he wrote a letter to Sir Steady, reminding him of his situation and promise, and giving him to understand, that his occasions were such as compelled him to demand his salary for the ensuing year. In the morning after this letter was conveyed, the author went to his honour's house, in expectation of being admitted by particular order; but was mistaken in his hope, the minister not being visible. He then made his appearance at the levee, in hopes of being closeted; but, though he took all opportunities of watching Sir Steady's eyes, he could not obtain one glance, and had the pleasure of seeing him retire, without being favoured with the least notice. These circumstances of wilful neglect were not over and above agreeable to our young hero, who, in the agonies of vexation and resentment, went home, and composed a most acrimonious remonstrance to his honour; in consequence of which he was not only deprived of all pretensions to a private audience, but expressly denied admittance on a public day, by Sir Steady's own order.
However, after a whole day went by without touching his allowance, despite his impressive way of presenting himself at the minister's levee, when the year was up, he wrote a letter to Sir Steady. He reminded him of his situation and promise, making it clear that his circumstances forced him to request his salary for the upcoming year. The morning after the letter was delivered, the author went to his honor's house, hoping to be let in by special order; however, he was mistaken in his hopes, as the minister was unavailable. He then showed up at the levee, hoping to get a private audience, but despite trying to catch Sir Steady's eye, he couldn't manage a single glance and had to watch him leave without any acknowledgment. This obvious neglect didn't sit well with our young hero, who, in a fit of frustration and anger, went home and wrote a very sharp letter to his honor. As a result, not only was he denied any chance for a private meeting, but he was specifically barred from entering on a public day by Sir Steady's own order.
This prohibition, which announced his total ruin, filled him with rage, horror, and despair. He insulted the porter who signified the minister's command, threatening to chastise him upon the spot for his presumption, and vented the most virulent imprecations upon his master, to the astonishment of those who chanced to enter during this conference. Having exhausted himself in these vain exclamations, he returned to his lodgings in a most frantic condition, biting his lips so that the blood ran from his mouth, dashing his head and fists against the sides of his chimney, and weeping with the most bitter expressions of woe. Pipes, whose perception had been just sufficient to let him see that there was some difference between the present and former situation of his master, overhearing his transports, essayed to enter his apartment, with a view of administering consolation; and, finding the door locked on the inside, desired admittance, protesting, that otherwise he would down with the bulkhead in the turning of a handspike. Peregrine ordered him to retire, on pain of his displeasure, and swore, that if he should offer to break open the door, he would instantly shoot him through the head. Tom, without paying the least regard to this injunction, set himself at work immediately. His master, exasperated at his want of reverence and respect, which in his present paroxysm appeared with the most provoking aggravation, flew into his closet, and snatching up one of his pistols already loaded, no sooner saw his valet enter the apartment, in consequence of having forced the lock, than he presented it full at his face, and drew the trigger. Happily the priming flashed in the pan, without communicating with the charge; so that his furious purpose did not take effect upon the countenance of honest Pipes, who, disregardful of the attempt, though he knew the contents of the piece, asked, without the least alteration of feature, if it must be foul weather through the whole voyage.
This ban, which signaled his complete downfall, filled him with anger, horror, and despair. He insulted the porter who conveyed the minister's order, threatening to punish him right then for his arrogance, and unleashed the most vicious curses against his master, shocking anyone who happened to walk in during this outburst. After exhausting himself with these futile outcries, he returned to his room in a frenzied state, biting his lips until blood dripped from his mouth, banging his head and fists against the chimney, and crying with the most intense expressions of grief. Pipes, who had enough sense to realize that his master’s situation had changed drastically, overhearing his outbursts, tried to enter the room to offer comfort; but when he found the door locked from the inside, he demanded entry, claiming that otherwise, he would bring the bulkhead down in a heartbeat. Peregrine ordered him to leave, threatening him with his anger, and swore that if he tried to break down the door, he would shoot him in the head. Tom, completely ignoring this warning, immediately got to work. His master, furious at his lack of respect and reverence, which felt even more infuriating in his current rage, rushed into his closet and grabbed one of his already-loaded pistols. As soon as he saw his valet enter the room after forcing the lock, he aimed it directly at his face and pulled the trigger. Fortunately, the priming just flashed in the pan without igniting the charge, so his violent intent didn’t reach honest Pipes’ face, who, undeterred by the attempt despite knowing what the gun could do, casually asked if it was going to be bad weather for the entire trip.
Peregrine, mad as he was, repented of his mischievous intent against such a faithful adherent, in the very moment of execution; and had it proved fatal, according to the design, in all probability he would have applied another to his own head. There are certain considerations that strike upon the mind with irresistible force, even in the midst of its distraction; the momentary recollection of some particular scene, occasioned by the features of the devoted victim, hath often struck the dagger from the assassin's hand. By such an impulse was Pipes protected from any repeated effort of his master's rage; the friendly cause of his present disobedience flashed upon the conviction of Peregrine, when he beheld the rugged front of his valet, in which also stood disclosed his long and faithful service together with the recommendation of the deceased commodore. Though his wrath was immediately suppressed, and his heart torn with remorse for what he had done, his brows remained still contracted, and darting a most ferocious regard at the intruder, “Villain!” said he, “how dare you treat me with such disrespect?”
Peregrine, as crazy as he was, felt regret for his mischievous plan against such a loyal follower right at the moment of action; if it had turned fatal, he likely would have turned the weapon on himself. There are certain thoughts that hit the mind with undeniable force, even when it's distracted; the sudden memory of a specific scene, triggered by the face of the doomed victim, has often made an assassin drop the dagger from their hand. Pipes was spared from his master's renewed fury by such an impulse; the friendly reason for his current disobedience struck Peregrine as he saw his valet’s tough face, which revealed his long and faithful service along with the commendation of the late commodore. Although his anger was quickly suppressed and his heart filled with regret for what he had done, his brows were still furrowed, and glaring at the intruder, he said, “You scoundrel! How dare you treat me with such disrespect?”
“Why shouldn't I lend a hand for the preservation of the ship,” answered the unruffled Pipes, “when there is more sail than ballast aboard, and the pilot quits the helm in despair? What signifies one or two broken voyages, so long as our timbers are strong, and our vessel in good trim? If she loses upon one tack, mayhap she may gain upon t'other; and I'll be d—d, if one day or other we don't fetch up our leeway. As for the matter of provision, you have started a pretty good stock of money into my hold, and you are welcome to hoist it up again when you wool.”
“Why shouldn’t I help save the ship?” replied the calm Pipes. “When there’s more sail than ballast on board, and the pilot has given up? What do a couple of failed trips matter, as long as our wood is solid and our ship is in good shape? If we lose some ground on one tack, maybe we’ll gain it back on the other; and I’ll be damned if we don’t eventually make up for it. As for provisions, you’ve put a decent amount of money in my hold, and you can take it out again whenever you want.”
Here Tom was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Crabtree, who seeing Peregrine with a pistol in his hand, and such wild disorder in his looks, his head, hands, and mouth besmeared with blood, and, moreover, smelling the gunpowder which had been burnt, actually believed he had either committed, or was bent upon murder, and accordingly retreated down-stairs with infinite despatch. All his speed could not convey him without the reach of Pipes, who, overtaking him in his passage, carried him back into his master's apartment, observing by the way, that this was no time to sheer off, when his consort stood in need of his assistance.
Here, Tom was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Crabtree, who, seeing Peregrine with a pistol in his hand and looking completely disheveled, with blood on his head, hands, and mouth, and smelling the burnt gunpowder, truly believed he had either committed murder or was about to. In response, he hurriedly retreated down the stairs. However, no matter how fast he moved, he couldn’t escape Pipes, who caught up with him and brought him back to his master’s room, noting along the way that this wasn’t the time to run off while his friend needed his help.
There was something so ruefully severe in the countenance of Cadwallader, thus compelled, that, at any other time, our hero would have laughed at his concern; but at the present there was nothing risible in his disposition. He had, however, laid aside his pistol, and endeavoured, though in vain, to compose his internal disturbance; for he could not utter one syllable to the misanthrope, but stood staring at him in silence, with a most delirious aspect. This did not tend to dispel the dismay of his friend, who, after some recollection, “I wonder,” said he, “that you have never killed your man before. Pray how may you have disposed of the body?” Pickle having recovered the faculty of speech, ordered his lacquey out of the room, and, in a most incoherent detail, made Crabtree acquainted with the perfidious conduct of the minister.
There was something so ironically serious in Cadwallader's expression that, under normal circumstances, our hero would have laughed at his concern; but right now, he wasn't in a funny mood at all. He had, however, put away his pistol and tried, though unsuccessfully, to calm his inner turmoil; he couldn't say a word to the misanthrope and just stared at him in silence, looking quite frantic. This didn't help alleviate his friend's anxiety, who after a moment of thought said, “I wonder why you've never killed anyone before. How did you handle the body?” Once Pickle regained his ability to speak, he sent his servant out of the room and, in a very jumbled way, informed Crabtree about the treacherous actions of the minister.
The confidant was very glad to find his fears disappointed; for he had really concluded that some life was lost. Perceiving the youth too much agitated to be treated by him in his usual style, he owned that Sir Steady was a rascal, and encouraged Pickle with the hope of being one day able to make reprisals upon him; in the mean time offered him money for his immediate occasions, exhorted him to exert his own qualifications in rendering himself independent of such miscreants, and finally counselled him to represent his wrongs to the nobleman whom he had formerly obliged, with a view of interesting that peer in his behalf or at least of obtaining a satisfactory explanation from the minister, that he might take no premature measures of revenge.
The confidant was really relieved to find that his fears were unfounded; he had genuinely thought that someone had been harmed. Seeing that the young man was too upset to be treated as usual, he admitted that Sir Steady was a scoundrel and encouraged Pickle with the hope that he would one day get back at him. In the meantime, he offered him money for his immediate needs, urged him to use his own skills to become independent of such villains, and finally advised him to explain his grievances to the nobleman he had previously helped, in order to garner that noble’s support or at least to get a satisfactory explanation from the minister, so he wouldn’t act out of anger too soon.
These admonitions were so much milder and more agreeable than our hero expected from the misanthrope, that they had a very favourable effect upon his transports, which gradually subsided, until he became so tractable as to promise that he would conform to his advice; in consequence of which, he next morning waited upon his lordship, who received him very politely, as usual, and with great patience heard his complaint, which, by the bye, he could not repeat without some hasty ebullitions of passionate resentment. This peer, after having gently disapproved of the letter of expostulation, which had produced such unfortunate effects, kindly undertook to recommend his case to the minister, and actually performed his promise that same day, when Sir Steady informed him, to his utter astonishment, that the poor young gentleman was disordered in his brain, so that he could not possibly be provided for in a place of importance, with any regard to the service; and it could not be expected that he (Sir Steady) would support his extravagance from his own private purse; that he had, indeed at the solicitation of a nobleman deceased, made him a present of three hundred pounds, in consideration of some loss that he pretended to have sustained in an election; but, since that time, had perceived in him such indisputable marks of lunacy, both by his distracted letters and personal behaviour, as obliged him to give order that he should not be admitted into the house. To corroborate this assertion, the minister actually called in the evidence of his own porter, and one of the gentlemen of his household, who had heard the execrations that escaped our youth, when he first found himself excluded. In short, the nobleman was convinced that Peregrine was certainly and bona fide mad as a March hare; and, by the help of this intimation, began to recollect some symptoms of distraction which appeared in his last visit; he remembered a certain incoherence in his speech, a violence of gesture and wildness of look, that now evidently denoted a disturbed understanding; and he determined, for his own credit and security, to disentangle himself from such a dangerous acquaintance.
These warnings were so much gentler and more pleasant than our hero expected from the misanthrope that they had a very positive effect on his outbursts, which gradually calmed down until he became compliant enough to promise that he would follow his advice. As a result, the next morning he went to see his lordship, who greeted him very politely, as usual, and patiently listened to his complaint, which, by the way, he couldn’t repeat without some quick bursts of angry emotion. This nobleman, after gently disapproving of the letter of complaint that had caused such unfortunate consequences, kindly agreed to recommend his case to the minister, and actually followed through on his promise that same day. Sir Steady informed him, to his utter shock, that the poor young man was mentally disturbed, so it wouldn’t be possible to place him in an important position concerning the service. It couldn’t be expected that he (Sir Steady) would finance his craziness from his own pocket; he had, at the request of a deceased nobleman, given him a gift of three hundred pounds because of some loss he claimed to have suffered in an election; but since then, he had seen such clear signs of madness in him, both in his chaotic letters and erratic behavior, that he had to order that he not be allowed into the house. To back up this claim, the minister even called on his own porter and one of his household members, who had heard the curses that escaped our young man when he first found himself barred entry. In short, the nobleman was convinced that Peregrine was truly and absolutely mad as a March hare; and, aided by this information, began to remember some signs of madness that had appeared during his last visit. He recalled a certain inconsistency in his speech, a forcefulness in his gestures, and a wildness in his eyes that clearly indicated a disturbed mind; and he decided, for his own reputation and safety, to distance himself from such a dangerous acquaintance.
With this view, he, in imitation of Sir Steady, commanded his gate to be shut against our adventurer; so that, when he went to know the result of his lordship's conference with the minister, the door was flung in his face, and the janitor told him through an iron grate, that he needed not to give himself the trouble of calling again, for his lord desired to be excused from seeing him. He spoke not a word in answer to this declaration, which he immediately imputed to the ill offices of the minister, against whom he breathed defiance and revenge, in his way to the lodgings of Cadwallader; who, being made acquainted with the manner of his reception, begged he would desist from all schemes of vengeance, until he, Crabtree, should be able to unriddle the mystery of the whole, which he did not doubt of unveiling by means of his acquaintance with a family in which his lordship often spent the evening at whist.
With this in mind, he, copying Sir Steady, ordered his gate to be locked against our adventurer. So, when he went to find out how his lordship’s meeting with the minister went, the door was slammed in his face, and the janitor informed him through an iron grate that he didn’t need to bother calling again because his lord didn’t want to see him. He didn’t say anything in response to this announcement, which he quickly blamed on the minister’s bad influence, against whom he vowed to take revenge as he made his way to Cadwallader’s place. When Cadwallader learned how he had been received, he urged him to hold off on any plans for revenge until he, Crabtree, could figure out the whole situation, which he was confident he could solve through his connection with a family where his lordship often spent his evenings playing whist.
It was not long before he had the desired opportunity: the nobleman being under no injunctions or obligation to keep the affair secret, discovered the young gentleman's misfortune, by way of news, to the first company in which he happened to be; and Peregrine's name was not so obscure in the fashionable world, but that his disorder became the general topic of conversation for a day; so that his friend soon partook of the intelligence, and found means to learn the particulars of the minister's information, as above related. Nay, he was in danger of becoming a proselyte to Sir Steady's opinion, when he recalled and compared every circumstance which he knew of Pickle's impatience and impetuosity. Indeed, nothing more easily gains credit than an imputation of madness fixed upon any person whatsoever: for when the suspicion of the world is roused, and its observation once set at work, the wisest, the coolest man upon earth, will, by some particulars in his behaviour, convict himself of the charge: every singularity in his dress and manner (and such are observable in every person), that before passed unheeded, now rises up in judgment against him, with all the exaggeration of the observer's fancy; and the sagacious examiner perceives distraction in every glance of the eye, turn of the finger, and motion of the head. When he speaks, there is a strange peculiarity in his argument and expression; when he holds his tongue, his imagination teems with some extravagant reverie; his sobriety of demeanour is no other than a lucid interval, and his passion mere delirium.
It wasn't long before he got the chance he wanted: the nobleman, not bound by any obligation to keep things under wraps, shared the young man's misfortune as news with the first group he encountered. Peregrine’s name wasn’t so unknown in high society that his situation didn’t become the main topic of conversation for a day. His friend quickly got wind of the news and found a way to learn the specifics of what the minister had reported. In fact, he almost started to agree with Sir Steady’s viewpoint when he recalled and compared everything he knew about Pickle’s impatience and impulsiveness. Truly, nothing gains credibility faster than an accusation of madness against someone: once the public's suspicion is raised and their scrutiny begins, even the wisest, calmest person can unintentionally reveal their own flaws through their behavior. Every oddity in their clothing and mannerisms (which can be seen in everyone) that once went unnoticed suddenly comes back to haunt them, exaggerated in the eyes of the observer. The sharp-eyed analyst starts to see signs of madness in every glance, gesture, and movement. When this person speaks, there’s something peculiar about their arguments and wording; when they’re silent, their mind seems to be filled with wild dreams. Their composed demeanor is just a moment of clarity, and their passion is merely crazed excitement.
If people of the most sedate and insipid life and conversation are subject to such criticisms, no wonder that they should take place upon a youth of Peregrine's fiery disposition, which, on some occasions, would have actually justified any remarks of this kind, which his greatest enemies could make. He was accordingly represented as one of those enterprising bucks, who, after having spent their fortunes in riot and excess, are happily bereft of their understanding, and consequently insensible of the want and disgrace which they have entailed upon themselves, Cadwallader himself was so much affected with the report, that for some time he hesitated in his deliberations upon our hero, before he could prevail upon himself to communicate to him the information he had received, or to treat him in other respects as a man of sound intellects. At length, however, he ventured to make Pickle acquainted with the particulars he had learned, imparting them with such caution and circumlocution, as he thought necessary to prevent the young gentleman from transgressing all bounds of temper and moderation; but, for once, he was agreeably deceived in his prognostic. Incensed as our hero was at the conduct of the minister, he could not help laughing at the ridiculous aspersion, which he told his friend he would soon refute in a manner that should not be very agreeable to his calumniator, observing, that it was a common practice with the state pilot, thus to slander those people to whom he lay under obligations which he had no mind to discharge. “True it is,” said Peregrine “he has succeeded more than once in contrivances of this kind, having actually reduced divers people of weak heads to such extremity of despair, as hath issued in downright distraction, whereby he was rid of their importunities, and his judgment confirmed at the same time. But I have now, thank Heaven, attained to such a pitch of philosophical resolution, as will support me against all his machinations; and I will forthwith exhibit the monster to the public, in his true lineaments of craft, perfidy, and ingratitude.”
If people who lead the most dull and boring lives and conversations are subject to such criticism, it's no surprise that someone like Peregrine, with his fiery personality, would attract similar remarks, which even his fiercest critics could justify on occasion. He was portrayed as one of those ambitious young men who, after squandering their fortunes on partying and excess, end up losing their minds and become oblivious to the need and shame they’ve brought upon themselves. Cadwallader was so affected by the rumors that he hesitated for a while before deciding to inform our hero or treat him as someone with sound judgment. Eventually, he decided to share the details he had learned, doing so with the caution and roundabout explanation he felt was necessary to prevent Peregrine from losing his temper. To his surprise, he was pleasantly proven wrong in his assumptions. Even though our hero was angry at the minister's actions, he couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous accusation, telling his friend that he would soon refute it in a way that wouldn’t be pleasant for the person making the false claims. He noted that it's common practice for those in power to slander people they owe something to but have no intention of helping. "It's true," said Peregrine, "he's pulled this off more than once, pushing weak-minded individuals to such depths of despair that they’ve gone quite mad, allowing him to get rid of their demands and further solidifying his position. But now, thank Heaven, I've reached a level of philosophical strength that will shield me from all his schemes. I’m going to expose this monster to the public, showing his true nature of deceit, betrayal, and ingratitude."
This indeed was the plan with which Mr. Pickle had amused himself during the researches of Crabtree; and by this time it so effectually flattered his imagination, that he believed he should be able to bring his adversary, in spite of all his power, to his own terms of submission, by distinguishing himself in the list of those who, at that period, wrote against the administration. Nor was this scheme so extravagant as it may seem to be, had not he overlooked one material circumstance, which Cadwallader himself did not recollect, when he approved of this project.
This was really the plan that Mr. Pickle occupied himself with while Crabtree was doing his research; and by now, it had flattered his imagination so much that he thought he could force his opponent, despite all his power, to accept his terms by standing out among those who were writing against the administration at that time. Yet this plan wasn't as far-fetched as it may sound, if he hadn't overlooked one important detail, which even Cadwallader forgot when he supported this idea.
While he thus meditated vengeance, the fame of his disorder, in due course of circulation, reached the ears of that lady of quality whose memoirs have already appeared in these adventures. The correspondence with which she had honoured our hero had been long broke off for the reason already advanced, namely, his dread of being exposed to her infatuating charms. He had been candid enough to make her acquainted with the cause of exiling himself from her presence; and she admitted the prudence of self-restraint, although she would have very well satisfied with the continuance of his intimacy and conversation, which were not at all beneath the desire of any lady in the kingdom. Notwithstanding this interruption, she still retained a friendship and regard for his character, and felt all the affliction of a humane heart, at the news of his misfortunes and deplorable distemper. She had seen him courted and cultivated in the sunshine of his prosperity; but she knew, from sad experience, how all those insect-followers shrink away in the winter of distress. Her compassion represented him as a poor unhappy lunatic, destitute of all the necessaries of life, dragging about the ruins of human nature, and exhibiting the spectacle of blasted youth to the scorn and abhorrence of his fellow-creatures. Aching with these charitable considerations, she found means to learn in what part of the town he lodged and, laying aside all superfluous ceremony, went in a hackney-chair to his door, which was opened by the ever-faithful Pipes.
While he was thinking about revenge, news of his condition eventually reached the ears of the noblewoman whose memoirs have already been shared in these stories. The correspondence she had extended to our hero had long been cut off because, as mentioned before, he feared being exposed to her captivating charms. He had been honest enough to explain why he was avoiding her, and she recognized the wisdom in his self-restraint, even though she would have preferred to continue their friendship and conversation, which were very much desired by any lady in the kingdom. Despite this break, she still held fondness and respect for his character and felt deep sorrow in her heart upon hearing about his misfortunes and unfortunate illness. She had seen him admired and sought after during his prosperous days, but she knew from painful experience how quickly those fair-weather friends disappear in tough times. Her compassion painted him as a poor, troubled soul, lacking all the basic needs of life, dragging around the remnants of his humanity, and showcasing the tragedy of lost youth for others to look down upon. Moved by these compassionate thoughts, she found a way to learn where he was staying and, putting aside all unnecessary formalities, took a cab to his door, which was opened by the ever-loyal Pipes.
Her ladyship immediately recollected the features of his trusty follower, whom she could not help loving in her heart for his attachment and fidelity, which after she had applauded with a most gracious commendation, she kindly inquired after the state of his master's health, and asked if he was in a condition to be seen. Tom, who could not suppose that the visit of a fine lady would be unacceptable to a youth of Peregrine's complexion, made no verbal reply to the question; but beckoning her ladyship with an arch significance of feature, at which she could not forbear smiling, walked softly up-stairs; and she, in obedience to the signal, followed her guide into the apartment of our hero, whom she found at a writing-table, in the very act of composing a eulogium upon his good friend Sir Steady. The nature of his work had animated his countenance with an uncommon degree of vivacity; and being dressed in a neat deshabille, his figure could not have appeared to more advantage in the eye of a person who despised the tinsel of unnecessary ornament. She was extremely well pleased to see her expectations so agreeably disappointed; for, instead of the squalid circumstances and wretched looks attending indigence and distraction, everything was decent and genteel; and the patient's aspect such as betokened internal satisfaction. Hearing the rustling of silk in his room, he lifted up his eyes from the paper, and, seeing her ladyship, was struck with astonishment and awe, as at the unexpected apparition of some supernatural being.
Her ladyship quickly remembered the features of his loyal servant, whom she couldn't help but love for his loyalty and dedication. After praising him with a warm compliment, she kindly asked about her master’s health and whether he was well enough to be seen. Tom, who figured a visit from a lovely lady would be welcome to someone like Peregrine, didn’t verbally respond to her question; instead, he gestured to her with a playful expression that made her smile. He softly walked upstairs, and she followed him into our hero’s room, where she found him at a writing desk, in the middle of composing a tribute to his good friend Sir Steady. The nature of his work had brightened his expression, and dressed in a neat outfit, he looked quite appealing to someone who appreciated simplicity over flashy embellishments. She was very pleased to see her expectations pleasantly overturned; rather than the dismal state and despair that often came with poverty, everything was tidy and elegant, and the patient’s demeanor showed signs of inner peace. Hearing the rustling of silk in the room, he raised his eyes from the paper, and upon seeing her ladyship, he was taken aback with astonishment and reverence, as if he had encountered a supernatural being.
Before he could recollect himself from his confusion, which called the blood into his cheeks, she told him that, on the strength of old acquaintance, she was come to visit him, though it was a long time since he had given her good reason to believe he had absolutely forgot that there was such a person as she in being. After having made the most warm acknowledgments for this unforeseen honour, he assured her ladyship that the subject of her reproach was not his fault, but rather his very great misfortune; and that, if it had been in his power to forget her so easily as she seemed to imagine, he should never have given her cause to tax him with want of duty and respect.
Before he could shake off his confusion, which made his cheeks flush, she told him that, due to their old relationship, she had come to visit him, even though it had been a long time since he had given her any reason to believe he remembered she existed. After expressing his deep gratitude for this unexpected honor, he assured her that the issue she brought up wasn’t his fault, but rather his unfortunate situation; and that if he could have forgotten her as easily as she seemed to think, he would never have given her a reason to accuse him of lacking duty and respect.
Still dubious of his situation, she began to converse with him on different subjects; and he acquitted himself so well in every particular, that she no longer doubted his having been misrepresented by the malice of his enemies, and candidly told him the cause and intent of her coming. He was not deficient in expressions of gratitude for this instance of her generosity and friendship, which even drew tears from his eyes. As to the imputation of madness, he explained it so much to her ladyship's satisfaction, that she evidently perceived he had been barbarously dealt with, and that the charge was no other than a most villainous aspersion. Notwithstanding all his endeavours to conceal the true state of his finances, it was impossible for him to give this detail, without disclosing some of the difficulties under which he laboured; and, her ladyship's sagacity divining the rest, she not only made him a tender of assistance, but, presenting a bank-note for a considerable sum, insisted upon his acceptance of it as a trifling mark of her esteem, and a specimen of what she was inclined to do in his behalf. But this mark of her benevolence he would by no means receive; assuring her, that, though his affairs were at present a little perplexed, he had never felt the least circumstance of distress, and begging that she would not subject him to the burden of such an unnecessary obligation.
Still unsure about his situation, she started talking to him about different topics, and he handled himself so well in every respect that she no longer doubted he had been misrepresented by the malice of his enemies. She openly told him why she had come. He was very grateful for her kindness and friendship, which even brought tears to his eyes. Regarding the accusation of madness, he explained it in a way that satisfied her, and she clearly realized he had been treated terribly and that the charge was nothing but a disgusting lie. Despite his efforts to hide the real state of his finances, he found it impossible to provide details without revealing some of the struggles he faced; her keen insight picked up on the rest. Not only did she offer him help, but she also presented him with a banknote for a significant amount and insisted he take it as a small token of her esteem and an example of what she was willing to do for him. However, he refused this expression of her generosity, assuring her that, although his situation was a bit complicated right now, he had never experienced any real distress, and he begged her not to put him under the burden of such an unnecessary obligation.
Being obliged to put up with this refusal she protested she would never forgive him should she ever hear that he rejected her offer when he stood in need of her aid; or if, in any time to come, he should not apply to her friendship, if ever he should find himself incommoded in point of fortune. “An overdelicacy in this respect,” said she, “I shall look upon as a disapprobation of my own conduct; because I myself have been obliged to have recourse to my friends in such emergencies.” These generous remonstrances and marks of particular friendship could not fail to make a deep impression upon the heart of our hero, which still smarted from the former impulse of her charms; he not only felt all those transports which a man of honour and sensibility may be supposed to feel upon such an occasion, but the sentiments of a more tender passion awaking in his breast, he could not help expressing himself in terms adapted to the emotion of his soul; and, at length, plainly told her, that, were he disposed to be a beggar, he would ask something of infinitely more importance to his peace than the charitable assistance she had proffered. Her ladyship had too much penetration to mistake his meaning; but, as she did not choose to encourage his advances, pretended to interpret his intimation into a general compliment of gallantry, and, in a jocose manner, desired he would not give her any reason to believe his lucid interval was past. “In faith, my lady,” said he, “I perceive the fit coming on; and I don't see why I may not use the privilege of my distemper, so far as to declare myself one of your most passionate admirers.”—“If you do,” replied her ladyship, “I shall not be fool enough to believe a madman, unless I were assured that your disorder proceeded from your love; and that this was the case, I suppose you will find it difficult to prove.”—“Nay, madam,” cried the youth, “I have in this drawer what will convince you of my having been mad on that strain; and, since you doubt my pretension, you must give me leave to produce my testimonials.” So saying, he opened an escrutoire, and taking out a paper, presented her with the following song, which he had written in her praise, immediately after he was made acquainted with the particulars of her story:
Being forced to deal with his refusal, she insisted she would never forgive him if she found out he rejected her offer when he needed her help; or if, at any point in the future, he didn’t reach out to her friendship whenever he faced financial trouble. “If you’re overly delicate about this,” she said, “I’ll take it as a rejection of my own behavior, because I’ve had to rely on my friends in such situations.” These heartfelt appeals and signs of genuine friendship left a strong impact on our hero’s heart, which was still tinged with the lingering effects of her allure; he not only felt all the excitement a man of honor and sensitivity might experience at a time like this, but as feelings of a deeper passion stirred within him, he couldn’t help but express himself in a way that reflected his emotions; and finally, he told her directly that if he were inclined to be a beggar, he would ask for something far more important to his happiness than the charitable help she had offered. She was too perceptive to misunderstand his meaning; however, since she didn’t want to encourage him, she pretended to take his words as a general compliment of flirtation, and jokingly asked him not to give her any reason to think he was out of his mind again. “Honestly, my lady,” he said, “I feel the fit coming on; and I don’t see why I can’t take advantage of my condition to declare that I am one of your most passionate admirers.” “If you do,” she replied, “I won’t be foolish enough to believe a madman unless I’m certain your madness stems from love; and I suppose you’ll find it hard to prove that.” “Oh, madam,” the young man exclaimed, “I have something in this drawer that will convince you I’ve indeed been mad in that way; and since you doubt my claims, you must allow me to present my evidence.” With that, he opened a small cabinet, took out a piece of paper, and handed her a song he had written in her honor, right after he learned the details of her story:
I.
While with fond rapture and amaze,
On thy transcendent charms I gaze,
My cautious soul essays in vain
Her peace and freedom to maintain;
yet let that blooming form divine,
Where grace and harmony combine;
Those eyes, like genial orbs that move,
Dispensing gladness, joy, and love;
in all their pomp assail my view,
Intent my bosom to subdue;
My breast, by wary maxims steel'd,
Not all those charms shall force to yield.
II.
But, when invok'd to Beauty's aid,
I see the enlighten'd soul display'd,
That soul so sensibly sedate
Amid the storms of froward fate!
Thy genius active, strong, and clear,
Thy wit sublime, though not severe,
The social ardour, void of art,
That glows within thy candid heart;
My spirits, sense, and strength decay,
My resolution dies away,
And, every faculty oppress'd,
Almighty love invades my breast!
I.
While with fond excitement and amazement,
I gaze at your incredible charm,
My cautious soul tries in vain
To maintain her peace and freedom;
yet let that beautiful form divine,
Where grace and harmony come together;
Those eyes, like warm orbs that shine,
Spreading happiness, joy, and love;
in all their glory assail my sight,
Ready to conquer my heart;
My heart, guarded by cautious wisdom,
Not all those charms will make me give in.
II.
But, when called to Beauty's support,
I see the enlightened soul revealed,
That soul so beautifully calm
Amid the storms of challenging fate!
Your talent active, strong, and clear,
Your wit brilliant, though not harsh,
The social warmth, genuine and true,
That glows within your open heart;
My spirits, senses, and strength fade,
My determination slips away,
And, every part of me overwhelmed,
All-powerful love invades my heart!Her ladyship having perused this production, “Were I inclined to be suspicious,” said she, “I should believe that I had no share in producing this composition, which seems to have been inspired by a much more amiable object. However, I will take your word for your intention, and thank you for the unmerited compliment, though I have met with it in such an accidental manner. Nevertheless, I must be so free as to tell you, it is now high time for you to contract that unbounded spirit of gallantry, which you have indulged so long, into a sincere attachment for the fair Emilia, who, by all accounts, deserves the whole of your attention and regard.” His nerves thrilled at mention of that name, which he never heard pronounced without agitation. Rather than undergo the consequence of a conversation upon this subject, he chose to drop the theme of love altogether, and industriously introduced some other topic of discourse.
Her ladyship, having read this piece, said, “If I were inclined to be suspicious, I might think that I had no part in creating this work, which seems to have been inspired by someone far more charming. However, I’ll take your word for your intentions and thank you for the undeserved compliment, even though I received it so unexpectedly. Still, I must be honest and say that it's high time you channel that limitless spirit of flirtation you've indulged in for so long into a genuine affection for the lovely Emilia, who, by all accounts, deserves all of your attention and respect.” His nerves tingled at the sound of her name, which always made him feel uneasy. Rather than face the consequences of discussing this topic, he decided to drop the subject of love entirely and quickly shifted to another topic.
CHAPTER XCVII.
He writes against the Minister, by whose Instigation he is arrested, and moves himself by habeas corpus into the Fleet.
He writes against the Minister, who had him arrested, and files for habeas corpus to get himself moved to the Fleet.
My lady having prolonged her stay beyond the period of a common visit, and repeated her protestations in the most frank and obliging manner, took her leave of our adventurer, who promised to pay his respects to her in a few days at her own house. Meanwhile, he resumed his task; and having finished a most severe remonstrance against Sir Steady, not only with regard to his private ingratitude, but also to his maladministration of public affairs, he sent it to the author of a weekly paper, who had been long a professed reformer in politics, and it appeared in a very few days, with a note of the publisher, desiring the favour of further correspondence with the author.
My lady extended her visit beyond the typical duration and expressed her feelings in the most honest and pleasant way before saying goodbye to our adventurer, who promised to drop by her house in a few days. In the meantime, he got back to his work and completed a strong criticism of Sir Steady, addressing both his personal ingratitude and his poor handling of public matters. He sent this piece to a weekly newspaper author known for advocating political reform, and it was published within a few days, along with a note from the publisher requesting further correspondence with the author.
The animadversions contained in this small essay were so spirited and judicious, and a great many new lights thrown upon the subject with such perspicuity, as attracted the notice of the public in an extraordinary manner, and helped to raise the character of the paper in which it was inserted. The minister was not the last who examined the performance, which, in spite of all his boasted temper, provoked him to such a degree, that he set his emissaries at work, and by dint of corruption, procured a sight of the manuscript in Peregrine's own handwriting, which he immediately recognised; but, for further confirmation of his opinion, he compared it with the two letters which he had received from our adventurer. Had he known the young gentleman's talents for declamation were so acute, perhaps he would never have given him cause to complain, but employed him in the vindication of his own measures; nay, he might still have treated him like some other authors whom he had brought over from the opposition, had not the keenness of this first assault incensed him to a desire of revenge. He, therefore, no sooner made this discovery, than he conveyed his directions to his dependent, the receiver-general, who was possessed of Pickle's notes. Next day, while our author stood within a circle of his acquaintance, at a certain coffee-house, holding forth with great eloquence upon the diseases of the state, he was accosted by a bailiff, who, entering the room with five or six followers, told him aloud that he had a writ against him for twelve hundred pounds, at the suit of Mr. Ravage Gleanum.
The criticisms in this short essay were so lively and insightful, and they shed so much new light on the topic with such clarity, that they caught the public's attention in an extraordinary way, improving the reputation of the publication in which it appeared. The minister was among those who reviewed the work, and despite his supposedly calm demeanor, it upset him so much that he sent out his agents and, through bribery, obtained a look at the manuscript in Peregrine's own handwriting, which he immediately recognized. To further confirm his suspicions, he compared it with the two letters he had received from our adventurer. If he had known that the young man's skills in argumentation were so sharp, he might never have given him a reason to complain and would have used him to defend his own policies. In fact, he could have treated him like some other writers he had recruited from the opposition, if the intensity of this initial attack hadn't fueled his desire for revenge. Therefore, as soon as he made this discovery, he gave instructions to his subordinate, the receiver-general, who had access to Pickle's notes. The next day, while our author was in a group of friends at a coffee house, passionately discussing the issues facing the state, he was approached by a bailiff, who entered the room with five or six attendants and loudly announced that he had a writ against him for twelve hundred pounds, on behalf of Mr. Ravage Gleanum.
The whole company were astonished at this address, which did not fail to discompose the defendant himself, who, as it were instinctively, in the midst of his confusion, saluted the officer across the head with his cane; in consequence of which application, he was surrounded and disarmed in an instant by the gang, who carried him off to the next tavern in the most opprobrious manner. Nor did one of the spectators interpose in his behalf, or visit him in his confinement with the least tender of advice or assistance; such is the zeal of coffee-house friendship. This stroke was the more severe upon our hero, as it was altogether unexpected; for he had utterly forgot the debt for which he was arrested. His present indignation was, however, chiefly kindled against the bailiff, who had done his office in such a disrespectful manner; and the first use he made of his recollection in the house to which they conducted him, was to chastise him for the insolence and indecency of his behaviour. This task he performed with his bare fists, every other weapon being previously conveyed out of his reach; and the delinquent underwent his discipline with surprising patience and resignation, asking pardon with great humility, and protesting before God, that he had never willingly and wittingly used any gentleman with ill manners, but had been commanded to arrest our adventurer according to the express direction of the creditor, on pain of forfeiting his place.
The entire group was shocked by this speech, which understandably rattled the defendant himself. In the heat of his confusion, he instinctively swung his cane at the officer; as a result, he was quickly surrounded and disarmed by a group, who dragged him off to the nearest tavern in a disgraceful manner. Not one of the onlookers stepped in to help him or offered any kind of support during his confinement; such is the nature of coffee-house friendships. This blow was especially harsh for our hero since it took him completely by surprise; he had completely forgotten about the debt that led to his arrest. His immediate anger was directed mainly at the bailiff, who had carried out his duties so disrespectfully. The first thing he did when he regained his composure in the place they took him was to confront the bailiff for his rude and inappropriate behavior. He did this with his bare fists, as all other weapons had been removed from him. The bailiff endured this punishment with surprising patience and humility, apologizing sincerely and swearing before God that he had never intentionally treated any gentleman poorly but had been ordered to arrest our hero under threat of losing his job.
By this declaration Peregrine was appeased, and, out of a delirium of passion, waked to all the horrors of reflection. All the glory of his youth was now eclipsed, all the blossoms of his hope were blasted, and he saw himself doomed to the miseries of a jail, without the least prospect of enlargement, except in the issue of his lawsuit, of which he had, for some time past, grown less and less confident every day. What would become of the unfortunate, if the constitution of the mind did not permit them to bring one passion into the field against another? passions that operate in the human breast, like poisons of a different nature, extinguishing each other's effect. Our hero's grief reigned in full despotism, until it was deposed by revenge, during the predominancy of which he considered everything which had happened as a circumstance conducive to its gratification. “If I must be prisoner for life,” said he to himself, “if I must relinquish all my gay expectations, let me at least have the satisfaction of clanking my chains so as to interrupt the repose of my adversary; and let me search in my own breast for that peace and contentment, which I have not been able to find in all the scenes of my success. In being detached from the world, I shall be delivered from folly and ingratitude, as well as exempted from an expense, which I should have found it very difficult, if not impracticable, to support; I shall have little or no temptation to misspend my time, and more undisturbed opportunity to earn my subsistence, and prosecute revenge. After all, a jail is the best tub to which a cynic philosopher can retire.”
By this declaration, Peregrine was calmed, and, coming out of a frenzy of passion, he faced all the harsh realities of reflection. The glory of his youth was now overshadowed, all his hopeful dreams were shattered, and he saw himself sentenced to the miseries of prison, with no chance of freedom except tied to the outcome of his lawsuit, a case in which he had been losing confidence day by day. What would happen to the unfortunate if the mind's constitution didn’t allow them to bring one passion to battle against another? Passions within the human heart operate like different poisons, canceling each other's effects. Our hero's grief ruled uncontested until it was overthrown by revenge, during which he viewed everything that had happened as a means to its satisfaction. “If I must be a prisoner for life,” he thought, “if I have to give up all my bright expectations, let me at least enjoy the satisfaction of rattling my chains to disturb my opponent's peace; and let me find within myself the peace and contentment that I haven’t been able to find in all my successful endeavors. By being separated from the world, I will rid myself of foolishness and ingratitude, and I won't have to deal with expenses that would have been hard, if not impossible, to manage; I won’t have much temptation to waste my time, and I’ll have more uninterrupted chances to earn a living and seek my revenge. After all, a prison is the best place for a cynical philosopher to retreat.”
In consequence of these comfortable reflections, he sent a letter to Mr. Crabtree, with an account of his misfortune, signifying his resolution to move himself immediately into the Fleet, and desiring that he would send him some understanding attorney of his acquaintance, who would direct him into the steps necessary to be taken for that purpose. The misanthrope, upon the receipt of this intimation, sent in person to a lawyer, whom he accompanied to the spunging-house whither the prisoner had by this time retired. Peregrine was, under the auspices of his director, conducted to the judges' chamber, where he was left in the custody of a tipstaff; and, after having paid for a warrant of habeas corpus, by him conveyed to the Fleet, and delivered to the care of the warden.
Because of these comforting thoughts, he sent a letter to Mr. Crabtree, explaining his unfortunate situation and expressing his decision to move himself right away into the Fleet. He also asked him to send a reliable attorney he knew who could guide him on the necessary steps to take. The misanthrope, upon receiving this message, went personally to find a lawyer and accompanied him to the spunging-house where the prisoner had by now gone. Under the guidance of his advisor, Peregrine was taken to the judges' chamber, where he was left in the custody of a tipstaff. After paying for a habeas corpus warrant, he was then brought to the Fleet and handed over to the warden's care.
Here he was introduced to the lodge, in which he was obliged to expose himself a full half-hour to the eyes of all the turnkeys and door-keepers, who took an accurate survey of his person, that they might know him again at first sight; and then he was turned loose into the place called the master's side, having given a valuable consideration for that privilege. This is a large range of building, containing some hundreds of lodging-rooms for the convenience of the prisoners, who pay so much per week for that accommodation. In short, this community is like a city detached from all communication with the neighbouring parts, regulated by its own laws, and furnished with peculiar conveniences for the use of the inhabitants. There is a coffee-house for the resort of gentlemen, in which all sorts of liquors are kept, and a public kitchen, where any quantity of meat is sold at a very reasonable rate, or any kind of provision boiled and roasted gratis, for the poor prisoners. Nay, there are certain servants of the public, who are obliged to go to market, at the pleasure of individuals, without fee or reward from those who employ them. Nor are they cooped up, so as to be excluded from the benefit of fresh air, there being an open area, of a considerable extent, adjacent to the building, on which they may exercise themselves in walking, skittles, bowls, and a variety of other diversions, according to the inclination of each.
Here he was shown to the lodge, where he had to stand in front of the turnkeys and door attendants for a full half-hour, who carefully examined him so they would recognize him immediately later on. After that, he was allowed into the area known as the master's side, having paid a significant fee for that privilege. This is a large building complex with hundreds of rooms for prisoners, who pay a weekly fee for their stay. Basically, this community is like a self-contained city, cut off from outside interaction, governed by its own rules, and equipped with unique facilities for its residents. There’s a coffee house where gentlemen gather, stocked with various drinks, and a public kitchen where anyone can buy meat at a fair price, or have any kind of food boiled or roasted for free if they’re poor prisoners. Furthermore, there are certain public servants who are required to go shopping for individuals without charging any fees for their help. They are not confined to a small space that prevents them from enjoying fresh air; there's a spacious open area next to the building where they can walk, play skittles, bowls, and engage in various other activities based on their interests.
Our adventurer being admitted a denizen of this community, found himself bewildered in the midst of strangers, who, by their appearance, did not at all prepossess him in their favour; and, after having strolled about the place with his friend Cadwallader, repaired to the coffee-house, in order to be further informed of the peculiar customs which it was necessary for him to know. There, while he endeavoured to pick up intelligence from the bar-keeper, he was accosted by a person in canonicals, who very civilly asked if he was a new-comer. Being answered in the affirmative, he gave him the salutation of welcome to the society, and, with great hospitality, undertook to initiate him in the constitutions of the brotherhood. This humane clergyman gave him to understand, that his first care ought to be that of securing a lodging; telling him there was a certain number of apartments in the prison let at the same price, though some were more commodious than others; and that when the better sort became vacant, by the removal of their possessors, those who succeeded in point of seniority had the privilege of occupying the empty tenements preferable to the rest of the inhabitants, howsoever respectable they might otherwise be. That, when the jail was very much crowded, there was but one chamber allotted for two lodgers; but this was not considered as any great hardship on the prisoners; because, in that case, there was always a sufficient number of males, who willingly admitted the females to a share in their apartments and beds. Not but the time had been, when this expedient would not answer the occasion; because, after a couple had been quartered in every room, there was a considerable residue still unprovided with lodging; so that, for the time being, the last-comers were obliged to take up their habitation in Mount Scoundrel, an apartment most miserably furnished, in which they lay promiscuously, amidst filth and vermin, until they could be better accommodated in due course of rotation.
Our adventurer, now a member of this community, found himself confused among strangers who didn’t seem welcoming at all. After wandering around the area with his friend Cadwallader, he headed to the coffee house to learn about the local customs he needed to know. There, while trying to gather information from the barista, he was approached by a man in clerical robes who politely asked if he was new to the area. When he confirmed this, the man welcomed him to the community and kindly offered to explain the group’s rules. This thoughtful clergyman informed him that his first priority should be finding a place to stay, mentioning that there were a few rooms in the prison available at the same price, although some were nicer than others. He explained that when the better rooms became available due to previous residents moving out, those who arrived earlier had the right to occupy those rooms over other residents, no matter how respectable they were. He noted that when the jail was crowded, there was only one room shared by two people, but this wasn’t seen as a big deal for the inmates since there were always enough men willing to let women share their rooms and beds. However, there had been a time when this arrangement didn’t work, as after pairing up every room, there were still a lot of people left without accommodations. So, at that point, the last arrivals had to stay in Mount Scoundrel, a poorly furnished room where they slept in unsanitary conditions and among pests until they could be assigned a better place in turn.
Peregrine, hearing the description of this place, began to be very impatient about his night's lodging; and the parson, perceiving his anxiety, conducted him, without loss of time, to the warden, who forthwith put him in possession of a paltry chamber, for which he agreed to pay half a crown a week. This point being settled, his director gave him an account of the different methods of eating, either singly, in a mess, or at an ordinary, and advised him to choose the last, as the most reputable, offering to introduce him next day to the best company in the Fleet, who always dined together in public.
Peregrine, upon hearing the description of this place, started to feel quite impatient about where he would spend the night; and the parson, noticing his unease, quickly took him to the warden, who immediately assigned him a shabby room, for which he agreed to pay half a crown a week. With that settled, his guide explained the different ways of dining, whether alone, in a group, or at a public eatery, and recommended the latter as the most respectable option, offering to introduce him the next day to the best company in the Fleet, who always dined together in public.
Pickle having thanked this gentleman for his civilities, and promised to be governed by his advice, invited him to pass the evening at his apartment; and, in the meantime, shut himself up with Crabtree, in order to deliberate upon the wreck of his affairs. Of all his ample fortune nothing now remained but his wardrobe, which was not very sumptuous, about thirty guineas in cash, and the garrison, which the misanthrope counselled him to convert into ready money for his present subsistence. This advice, however, he absolutely rejected, not only on account of his having already bestowed it upon Hatchway during the term of his natural life, but also with a view of retaining some memorial of the commodore's generosity. He proposed, therefore, to finish in this retreat the translation which he had undertaken, and earn his future subsistence by labour of the same kind. He desired Cadwallader to take charge of his movables, and send to him such linen and clothes as he should have occasion for in his confinement. But, among all his difficulties, nothing embarrassed him so much as his faithful Pipes, whom he could no longer entertain in his service. He knew Tom had made shift to pick up a competency in the course of his ministration; but that reflection, though it in some measure alleviated, could not wholly prevent the mortification he should suffer in parting with an affectionate adherent, who was by this time become as necessary to him as one of his own members, and who was so accustomed to live under his command and protection, that he did not believe the fellow could reconcile himself to any other way of life.
Pickle thanked this gentleman for his kindness and promised to follow his advice. He invited him to spend the evening at his place and then shut himself in with Crabtree to think about the mess his life had become. From his once considerable fortune, all that was left was his not-so-fancy wardrobe, around thirty guineas in cash, and the garrison, which the misanthrope suggested he sell for immediate funds. However, he completely rejected that idea, not only because he had already given it to Hatchway for life but also to keep a reminder of the commodore's generosity. He decided to finish the translation he had started in this hideaway and hoped to support himself through that kind of work. He asked Cadwallader to look after his belongings and send him any linens and clothes he needed during his time alone. But his biggest worry was his loyal Pipes, whom he could no longer employ. He knew Tom had managed to save some money while working for him, but that thought, while somewhat comforting, couldn't fully ease the pain of losing a devoted friend who had become as essential to him as a part of himself, and who was so used to living under his guidance and protection that he didn't think Tom could adapt to any other way of life.
Crabtree, in order to make him easy on that score, offered to adopt him in the room of his own valet, whom he would dismiss; though he observed, that Pipes had been quite spoiled in our hero's service. But Peregrine did not choose to lay his friend under that inconvenience, knowing that his present lacquey understood and complied with all the peculiarities of his humour, which Pipes would never be able to study or regard; he therefore determined to send him back to his shipmate Hatchway, with whom he had spent the fore part of his life. These points being adjusted, the two friends adjourned to the coffee-house, with a view of inquiring into the character of the clergyman to whose beneficence our adventurer was so much indebted. They learned he was a person who had incurred the displeasure of the bishop in whose diocese he was settled, and, being unequal in power to his antagonist, had been driven to the Fleet, in consequence of his obstinate opposition; though he still found means to enjoy a pretty considerable income, by certain irregular practices in the way of his function, which income was chiefly consumed in acts of humanity to his fellow-creatures in distress.
Crabtree, to make things easier for him, offered to adopt him in place of his own valet, whom he would let go; although he noted that Pipes had been quite spoiled while working for our hero. But Peregrine didn’t want to put his friend in that situation, knowing that his current servant understood and catered to all his quirks, which Pipes would never be able to grasp. He decided to send him back to his shipmate Hatchway, with whom he had spent the earlier part of his life. With those decisions made, the two friends headed to the coffeehouse to look into the background of the clergyman to whom our adventurer was so greatly indebted. They found out that he was a person who had fallen out of favor with the bishop of the area, and being unable to match his rival's power, had been sent to the Fleet due to his stubborn resistance; yet he still managed to maintain a pretty decent income through some irregular practices related to his role, which he mostly spent on helping those in need.
His eulogium was scarce finished, when he entered the room, according to appointment with Peregrine, who ordering wine and something for supper to be carried to his apartment, the triumvirate went thither; and Cadwallader taking his leave for the night, the two fellow-prisoners passed the evening very sociably, our hero being entertained by his new companion with a private history of the place, some particulars of which were extremely curious. He told him, that the person who attended them at supper, bowing with the most abject servility, and worshipping them every time he opened his mouth, with the epithets of your lordship and your honour, had, a few years before, been actually a captain in the guards; who, after having run his career in the great world, had threaded every station in their community, from that of a buck of the first order, who swaggers about the Fleet in a laced coat, with a footman and w—, to the degree of a tapster, in which he was now happily settled. “If you will take the trouble of going into the cook's kitchen,” said he, “you will perceive a beau metamorphosed into a turnspit; and there are some hewers of wood and drawers of water in this microcosm who have had forests and fishponds of their own. Yet, notwithstanding such a miserable reverse of fortune, they are neither objects of regard nor compassion, because their misfortunes are the fruits of the most vicious extravagance, and they are absolutely insensible of the misery which is their lot. Those of our fellow-sufferers, who have been reduced by undeserved losses, or the precipitation of inexperienced youth, never fail to meet with the most brotherly assistance, provided they behave with decorum, and a due sense of their unhappy circumstances. Nor are we destitute of power to chastise the licentious, who refuse to comply with the regulations of the place, and disturb the peace of the community with riot and disorder. Justice is here impartially administered by a court of equity, consisting of a select number of the most respectable inhabitants, who punish all offenders with equal judgment and resolution, after they have been fairly convicted of the crimes laid to their charge.”
His speech was barely done when he walked into the room, as scheduled with Peregrine, who ordered wine and some food to be brought to his room. The three of them headed there; Cadwallader said his goodbyes for the night, leaving the two fellow prisoners to spend the evening in good spirits. Our hero was entertained by his new companion, who shared some intriguing stories about the place. He mentioned that the person serving them dinner, who bowed with excessive servility and greeted them with “your lordship” and “your honor” at every opportunity, had been a captain in the guards just a few years ago. After having made his way through high society, he had occupied every role in their community, from a flashy young man strutting around Fleet Street in a fancy coat, complete with a footman, to now being a bartender, where he was currently settled. “If you take the effort to visit the cook’s kitchen,” he said, “you’ll see a dandy turned into a kitchen assistant; and among those fetching wood and water in this little world, there are some who used to own their own forests and ponds. Yet, despite such a miserable downfall, they receive neither pity nor sympathy because their situations are the result of reckless extravagance, and they are completely unaware of the misery they endure. Those of our fellow prisoners who have faced unfortunate losses or the impulsiveness of youth are always met with the warm support of others, as long as they maintain proper behavior and an awareness of their unfortunate circumstances. We also have the authority to deal with those who are unruly and refuse to follow the rules of the place, disrupting the peace of the community. Justice here is delivered fairly by a group of respected residents, who punish wrongdoers with appropriate judgment and resolve, once they have been fairly found guilty of their crimes.”
The clergyman having thus explained the economy of the place, as well as the cause of his own confinement, began to discover signs of curiosity touching our hero's situation; and Pickle, thinking he could do no less for the satisfaction of a man who had treated him in such a hospitable manner, favoured him with a detail of the circumstances which produced his imprisonment; at the same time gratifying his resentment against the minister, which delighted in recapitulating the injuries he had received. The parson, who had been prepossessed in favour of our youth at first sight, understanding what a considerable part he had acted on the stage of life, felt his veneration increase; and, pleased with the opportunity of introducing a stranger of his consequence to the club, left him to his repose, or rather to ruminate on an event which he had not as yet seriously considered.
The clergyman, having explained the place's setup and why he was confined, began to show curiosity about our hero's situation. Pickle, feeling he should provide some insight for someone who had treated him so kindly, shared the details of what led to his imprisonment. He also took the chance to vent his anger against the minister, enjoying the chance to recount the wrongs he had suffered. The parson, who had been fond of the young man from the start, admired him even more as he learned about the significant role he had played in life. Delighted to introduce someone of his status to the club, he decided to leave him to rest, or more accurately, to reflect on an event he hadn't yet given serious thought to.
I might here, in imitation of some celebrated writers, furnish out a page or two, with the reflections he made upon the instability of human affairs, the treachery of the world, and the temerity of youth; and endeavour to decoy the reader into a smile, by some quaint observation of my own, touching the sagacious moraliser: but, besides that I look upon this practice as an impertinent anticipation of the peruser's thoughts, I have too much matter of importance upon my hands, to give the reader the least reason to believe that I am driven to such paltry shifts, in order to eke out the volume. Suffice it then to say, our adventurer passed a very uneasy night, not only from the thorny suggestions of his mind, but likewise from the anguish of his body, which suffered from the hardness of his couch, as well as from the natural inhabitants thereof, that did not tamely suffer his intrusion. In the morning he was waked by Pipes, who brought upon his shoulder a portmanteau filled with necessaries, according to the direction of Cadwallader; and, tossing it down upon the floor, regaled himself with a quid, without the least manifestation of concern. After some pause, “You see, Pipes,” said his master, “to what I have brought myself.” “Ey, ey,” answered the valet, “once the vessel is ashore, what signifies talking? We must bear a hand to tow her off, if we can. If she won't budge for all the anchors and capstans aboard, after we have lightened her, by cutting away her masts, and heaving our guns and cargo overboard, why then, mayhap a brisk gale of wind, a tide, or current setting from shore, may float her again in the blast of a whistle. Here is two hundred and ten guineas by the tale in this here canvas bag; and upon this scrap of paper—no, avast—that's my discharge from the parish for Moll Trundle—ey, here it is—an order for thirty pounds upon the what-d'ye-call-'em in the city; and two tickets for twenty-five and eighteen, which I lent, d'ye see, to Sam Studding to buy a cargo of rum, when he hoisted the sign of the commodore at St. Catherine's.” So saying, he spread his whole stock upon the table for the acceptance of Peregrine; who, being very much affected with this fresh instance of his attachment, expressed his satisfaction at seeing he had been such a good economist, and paid his wages up to that very day. He thanked him for his faithful services, and, observing that he himself was no longer in a condition to maintain a domestic, advised him to retire to the garrison, where he would be kindly received by his friend Hatchway, to whom he would recommend him in the strongest terms.
I might, like some famous writers, share a page or two filled with thoughts on the unpredictability of human affairs, the deceitfulness of the world, and the recklessness of youth; I could also try to entice the reader into a smile with some clever remark of my own about the wise moralizer. But aside from considering this approach as an annoying guess at the reader's thoughts, I have too much important stuff to deal with to give the reader any reason to think I'm resorting to such trivial tactics to fill out the book. So let’s just say our adventurer had a very restless night, not only from the troubling thoughts in his mind but also from the discomfort in his body, suffering from the hardness of his bed and the natural inhabitants of it that didn’t take kindly to his presence. In the morning, he was woken by Pipes, who brought a suitcase filled with essentials on his shoulder, according to Cadwallader's instructions. He tossed it to the floor and took a chew of tobacco without any hint of concern. After a moment, his master said, “You see, Pipes, what I’ve gotten myself into.” “Yeah, yeah,” replied the valet, “once the boat is on shore, what's the point in talking? We have to help tow it off, if we can. If it won’t budge with all the anchors and winches on board, after we’ve lightened it by cutting down the masts and throwing our cannons and cargo overboard, then maybe a strong wind, a tide, or a current pulling from the shore will float it away again with a whistle. Here are two hundred and ten guineas in this canvas bag; and this scrap of paper—no, wait, that’s my discharge from the parish for Moll Trundle—ah, here it is—an order for thirty pounds from the, uh, whatever in the city; and two tickets for twenty-five and eighteen, which I lent to Sam Studding to buy a load of rum when he put up the sign of the commodore at St. Catherine's.” With that, he laid out his entire stash on the table for Peregrine to see, who was quite touched by this new demonstration of loyalty and expressed his happiness that Pipes had been such a good saver and paid his wages up to that day. He thanked him for his faithful service and, noting that he himself was no longer able to support a servant, suggested he return to the garrison, where his friend Hatchway would welcome him kindly, and he would recommend him in the strongest terms.
Pipes looked blank at this unexpected intimation, to which he replied, that he wanted neither pay nor provision, but only to be employed as a tender; and that he would not steer his course for the garrison, unless his master would first take his lumber aboard. Pickle, however, peremptorily refused to touch a farthing of the money, which he commanded him to put up, and Pipes was so mortified at his refusal, that, twisting the notes together, he threw them into the fire without hesitation, crying, “D— the money!” The canvas bag with its contents would have shared the same fate, had not Peregrine started up, and snatching the paper from the flames, ordered his valet to forbear, on pain of being banished for ever from his sight. He told him that, for the present, there was a necessity for his being dismissed, and he discharged him accordingly; but, if he would go and live quietly with the lieutenant, he promised, on the first favourable turn of his fortune, to take him again into his service. In the meantime he gave him to understand, that he neither wanted, nor would make use of his money, which he insisted upon his pocketing immediately, on pain of forfeiting all title to his favour.
Pipes stared blankly at this unexpected suggestion and replied that he didn’t want any payment or supplies, just to be hired as a tender. He said he wouldn’t head to the garrison unless his master took his cargo on board first. However, Pickle firmly refused to accept a single penny from the money, insisting that Pipes put it away. Pipes was so upset by the refusal that he twisted the notes together and threw them into the fire without hesitation, shouting, “D— the money!” The canvas bag with its contents would have met the same fate if Peregrine hadn't jumped up, snatched the paper from the flames, and told his servant to stop, warning that he would be banished forever from his sight. He explained that, for now, he needed to part ways with him, and so he released Pipes from his service. However, he promised that if Pipes went to live quietly with the lieutenant, he would take him back into his service at the first good opportunity. In the meantime, he made it clear that he didn’t want or need Pipes' money, insisting that he pocket it immediately, or risk losing any claim to Peregrine's favor.
Pipes was very much chagrined at these injunctions, to which he made no reply; but, sweeping the money into his bag, stalked off in silence, with a look of grief and mortification, which his countenance had never exhibited before. Nor was the proud heart of Pickle unmoved upon the occasion; he could scarce suppress his sorrow in the presence of Pipes, and, soon as he was gone, it vented itself in tears.
Pipes was really upset by these orders, to which he said nothing; instead, he quickly stuffed the money into his bag and walked away in silence, showing a look of sadness and embarrassment that he'd never had before. Pickle's proud heart was also affected by this situation; he could hardly hold back his sadness in front of Pipes, and as soon as Pipes left, he broke down in tears.
Having no great pleasure in conversing with his own thoughts, he dressed himself with all convenient despatch, being attended by one of the occasional valets of the place, who had formerly been a rich mercer in the city; and, this operation being performed, he went to breakfast at the coffee-house, where he happened to meet with his friend the clergyman and several persons of genteel appearance, to whom the doctor introduced him as a new messmate. By these gentlemen he was conducted to a place where they spent the forenoon in playing at fives, an exercise in which our hero took singular delight; and about one o'clock a court was held, for the trial of two delinquents, who had transgressed the laws of honesty and good order. The first who appeared at the bar was an attorney, accused of having picked a gentleman's pocket of his handkerchief. And the fact being proved by incontestable evidence, he received sentence. In consequence of which, he was immediately carried to the public pump, and subjected to a severe cascade of cold water. This cause being discussed, they proceeded to the trial of the other offender, who was a lieutenant of a man-of-war, indicted for a riot, which he had committed in company with a female, not yet taken, against the laws of the place, and the peace of his fellow-prisoners. The culprit had been very obstreperous, and absolutely refused to obey the summons, with many expressions of contempt and defiance against the authority of the court; upon which the constables were ordered to bring him to the bar, vi et armis; and he was accordingly brought before the judge, after having made a most desperate resistance with a hanger, by which one of the officers was dangerously wounded. This outrage was such an aggravation of his crime, that the court would not venture to decide upon it, but remitted him to the sentence of the warden; who, by virtue of his dictatorial power, ordered the rioter to be loaded with irons, and confined in the strong room, which is a dismal dungeon, situated upon the side of the ditch, infested with toads and vermin, surcharged with noisome damps, and impervious to the least ray of light.
Not really enjoying his own thoughts, he got dressed quickly, helped by one of the occasional valets from the area, who used to be a wealthy merchant in the city. Once he was ready, he went to have breakfast at the coffee house, where he ran into his friend, the clergyman, and several well-dressed people, to whom the doctor introduced him as a new dining companion. These gentlemen took him to a spot where they spent the morning playing fives, a game our hero really enjoyed. Around one o'clock, a court was convened to judge two offenders who had broken the rules of honesty and order. The first to stand trial was a lawyer accused of stealing a gentleman's handkerchief. With undeniable evidence presented, he was found guilty and immediately taken to the public pump to receive a harsh dousing of cold water. After handling that case, they moved on to the other offender, a lieutenant from a warship, charged with causing a disturbance alongside a woman, who had not yet been caught, breaking the local laws and disrupting the peace of his fellow inmates. The culprit had been very disruptive, openly refusing to comply with the summons and showing nothing but contempt and defiance toward the court's authority. This led to the constables being ordered to forcibly bring him to the bar, and he was brought in after putting up a fierce struggle with a weapon, injuring one of the officers seriously. This violent act was considered a significant aggravation of his offense, so the court did not think it could pass judgment and instead sent him to the warden for sentencing. The warden, exercising his absolute power, ordered the troublemaker to be shackled and locked up in the strong room, a grim dungeon located beside the ditch, full of toads and vermin, damp with foul air, and completely devoid of light.
Justice being done upon these criminals, our adventurer and his company adjourned to the ordinary, which was kept at the coffee-house; and he found, upon inquiry, that his messmates consisted of one officer, two underwriters, three projectors, an alchemist, an attorney, a parson, a brace of poets, a baronet, and a knight of the Bath. The dinner, though not sumptuous, nor very elegantly served up, was nevertheless substantial, and pretty well dressed. The wine was tolerable, and all the guests as cheerful as if they had been utter strangers to calamity; so that our adventurer began to relish the company, and mix in the conversation, with that sprightliness and ease which were peculiar to his disposition. The repast being ended, the reckoning paid, and part of the gentlemen withdrawn to cards, or other avocations, those who remained, among whom Peregrine made one, agreed to spend the afternoon in conversation over a bowl of punch; and the liquor being produced, they passed the time very socially in various topics of discourse, including many curious anecdotes relating to their own affairs. No man scrupled to own the nature of the debt for which he was confined, unless it happened to be some piddling affair, but, on the contrary, boasted of the importance of the sum, as a circumstance that implied his having been a person of consequence in life; and he who made the most remarkable escapes from bailiffs, was looked upon as a man of superior genius and address.
After justice was served to these criminals, our adventurer and his group headed to the tavern, which was located at the coffeehouse. Upon asking around, he discovered that his companions included one officer, two underwriters, three entrepreneurs, an alchemist, a lawyer, a clergyman, two poets, a baronet, and a knight of the Bath. The dinner, while not extravagant or very elegantly presented, was still hearty and decently prepared. The wine was acceptable, and all the guests were as cheerful as if they had never experienced hardship; so our adventurer began to enjoy their company and join in the conversation with the lively and relaxed attitude typical of his nature. Once the meal was finished, the bill settled, and some of the gentlemen moved on to cards or other activities, those who stayed, including Peregrine, decided to spend the afternoon chatting over a bowl of punch. The drink was brought out, and they enjoyed a social time discussing a range of topics, sharing many interesting stories about their own lives. No one hesitated to reveal the reason for their confinement, unless it was a trivial matter, and instead, they proudly talked about the magnitude of their debts, viewing it as a sign of having been influential in life; the guy who had managed to escape bailiffs most impressively was regarded as exceptionally clever and resourceful.
Among other extraordinary adventures of this kind, none was more romantic than the last elopement achieved by the officer; who told them he had been arrested for a debt of two hundred pounds, at a time when he could not command as many pence, and conveyed to the bailiff's house, in which he continued a whole fortnight, moving his lodgings higher and higher, from time to time, in proportion to the decay of his credit; until, from the parlour, he had made a regular ascent to the garret. There, while he ruminated on his next step, which would have been to the Marshalsea, and saw the night come on, attended with hunger and cold, the wind began to blow, and the tiles of the house rattled with the storm. His imagination was immediately struck with the idea of escaping unperceived, amidst the darkness and noise of the tempest, by creeping out of the window of his apartment, and making his way over the tops of the adjoining houses. Glowing with this prospect, he examined the passage, which, to his infinite mortification, he found grated with iron bars on the outside; but even this difficulty did not divert him from his purpose. Conscious of his own strength, he believed himself able to make a hole through the roof, which seemed to be slender and crazy; and, on this supposition, he barricaded the door with the whole furniture of the room; then setting himself to work with a poker, he in a few minutes effected a passage for his hand, with which he gradually stripped off the boards and tiling, so as to open a sallyport for his whole body, through which he fairly set himself free, groping his way towards the next tenement. Here, however, he met with an unlucky accident. His hat being blown off his head, chanced to fall into the court just as one of the bailiff's followers was knocking at the door; and this myrmidon, recognizing it, immediately gave the alarm to his chief, who, running up-stairs to the garret, forced open the door in a twinkling, notwithstanding the precautions which the prisoner had taken, and, with his attendant, pursued the fugitive through his own track. “After this chase had continued some time,” said the officer, “to the imminent danger of all three, I found my progress suddenly stopped by a skylight, through which I perceived seven tailors sitting at work upon a board. Without the least hesitation, or previous notice, I plunged among them with my backside foremost. Before they could recollect themselves from the consternation occasioned by such a strange visit, I told them my situation, and gave them to understand that there was no time to be lost. One of the number, taking the hint, led me instantly down-stairs, and dismissed me at the street door; while the bailiff and his follower, arriving at the breach, were deterred from entering by the brethren of my deliverer, who, presenting their shears, like a range of chevaux de frise, commanded them to retire, on pain of immediate death. And the catchpole, rather than risk his carcase, consented to discharge the debt, comforting himself with the hope of making me prisoner again. There, however, he was disappointed. I kept snug, and laughed at his escape-warrant, until I was ordered abroad with the regiment, when I conveyed myself in a hearse to Gravesend, where I embarked for Flanders; but, being obliged to come over again on the recruiting service, I was nabbed on another score. And all the satisfaction my first captor has been able to obtain, is a writ of detainer, which, I believe, will fix me in this place, until the parliament, in its great goodness, shall think proper to discharge my debts by a new act of insolvency.”
Among other amazing adventures like this, none was more romantic than the last escape made by the officer, who told them he had been arrested for a debt of two hundred pounds, at a time when he could barely scrape together a few pence. He was taken to the bailiff's house, where he stayed for a whole fortnight, gradually moving his lodgings higher and higher as his credit continued to deteriorate; until he had gone from the parlor to the attic. There, as he pondered his next move—which would likely land him in the Marshalsea—and noticed the night closing in, bringing hunger and cold, the wind began to howl, causing the tiles on the house to rattle in the storm. Suddenly, he was inspired by the thought of escaping unnoticed amid the darkness and noise of the tempest, by climbing out of the window of his room and making his way across the roofs of the neighboring houses. Energized by this idea, he checked the passage, which, to his dismay, he found was barred with iron grilles on the outside; but even this setback didn't deter him from his plan. Confident in his own strength, he believed he could break a hole through the roof, which appeared weak and unstable; so, on that assumption, he barricaded the door with all the furniture in the room. He then set to work with a poker and quickly made a hole just big enough for his hand, gradually removing the boards and tiles, until he had created an escape route for his whole body, through which he successfully freed himself, groping his way toward the next building. However, he encountered an unfortunate accident. His hat was blown off his head and fell into the courtyard just as one of the bailiff's men was knocking at the door; this henchman recognized the hat and immediately alerted his boss, who rushed upstairs to the attic and burst through the door despite the precautions the prisoner had taken, and, with his assistant, chased the fugitive through his own path. “After this chase had gone on for a while,” said the officer, “I suddenly found my way blocked by a skylight, through which I saw seven tailors working at a board. Without any hesitation or prior warning, I dove right in among them, landing backside first. Before they could recover from the shock of such a bizarre visitor, I explained my situation and stressed that there was no time to waste. One of them, picking up on the urgency, quickly led me downstairs and let me out at the street door; while the bailiff and his assistant, arriving at the point of entry, were prevented from coming in by the tailors, who brandished their scissors like a row of sharp spikes, commanding them to back off, or face immediate death. The bailiff, choosing to protect himself, agreed to pay the debt, soothing himself with the hope of capturing me again. However, he was disappointed. I stayed out of sight and laughed at his arrest warrant, until I was ordered out with the regiment, at which point I secretly traveled in a hearse to Gravesend, where I boarded a ship for Flanders; but, having to return for recruitment, I got caught for another offense. And all the satisfaction my first captor has managed to achieve is a writ of detainer, which I believe will keep me here until Parliament, in its great wisdom, decides to clear my debts with a new bankruptcy law.”
Everybody owned that the captain's success was equal to the hardiness of his enterprise, which was altogether in the style of a soldier; but one of the merchants observed, that he must have been a bailiff of small experience, who would trust a prisoner of that consequence in such an unguarded place. “If the captain,” said he, “had fallen into the hands of such a cunning rascal as the fellow that arrested me, he would not have found it such an easy matter to escape; for the manner in which I was caught is perhaps the most extraordinary that ever was practised in these realms. You must know, gentlemen, I suffered such losses by insuring vessels during the war, that I was obliged to stop payment, though my expectations were such as encouraged me to manage one branch of business, without coming to an immediate composition with my creditors, and, in short, I received consignments from abroad as usual, that I might not be subject to the visits of those catchpoles, I never stirred abroad; but, turning my first floor into a warehouse, ordered all my goods to be hoisted up by a crane fixed to the upper story of my house. Divers were the stratagems practised by those ingenious ferrets, with a view of decoying me from the walls of my fortification. I received innumerable messages from people, who wanted to see me at certain taverns, upon particular business. I was summoned into the country, to see my own mother, who was said to be at the point of death. A gentlewoman, one night, was taken in labour on my threshold. At another time I was disturbed with the cry of murder in the street; and once I was alarmed by a false fire. But, being still upon my guard, I baffled all their attempts, and thought myself quite secure from their invention, when one of those bloodhounds, inspired, I believe, by the devil himself, contrived a snare by which I was at last entrapped. He made it his business to inquire into the particulars of my traffic; and, understanding that, among other things, there were several chests of Florence entered at the custom house on my behalf, he ordered himself to be enclosed in a box of the same dimensions, with air-holes in the bottom, for the benefit of breathing, and marked upon the cover; and, being conveyed to my door in a cart, among other goods, was, in his turn, hoisted up to my warehouse, where I stood with a hammer, in order to open the chests, that I might compare the contents with the invoice. You may guess my surprise and consternation, when, upon uncovering the box, I saw a bailiff rearing up his head, like Lazarus from the grave, and heard him declare that he had a writ against me for a thousand pounds. Indeed, I aimed the hammer at his head, but, in the hurry of my confusion, missed my mark; before I could repeat the blow, he started up with great agility, and executed his office in sight of several evidences whom he had assembled in the street for that purpose; so that I could not possibly disentangle myself from the toil without incurring an escape-warrant, from which I had no protection. But, had I known the contents of the chest, by all that's good! I would have ordered my porter to raise it up as high as the crane would permit, and then have cut the rope by accident.”
Everyone agreed that the captain's success was directly tied to the daring of his mission, which was very much in a soldier's spirit. However, one of the merchants pointed out that it must have been the act of an inexperienced bailiff to trust a prisoner of such importance in such an unsecured place. “If the captain,” he said, “had fallen into the hands of a crafty scoundrel like the guy who arrested me, he wouldn’t have found it so easy to escape. The way I got caught is probably the most unbelievable trick ever pulled in these lands. You should know, gentlemen, I lost so much money insuring ships during the war that I had to stop payments. Still, I had enough hope to keep one part of my business running without immediately settling with my creditors. In short, I received shipments from abroad as usual to avoid visits from those debt collectors; I never went out because of it. Instead, I turned my first floor into a warehouse, directing all my goods to be lifted up by a crane attached to the top of my house. Those cunning rats used all sorts of schemes to try to lure me out of my secured position. I got countless messages from people wanting to meet me at certain taverns for specific business. I was even summoned to the country to see my own mother, who was said to be dying. One night, a woman in labor showed up at my door. Another time, I was disturbed by cries of murder outside, and once I was startled by a false alarm of a fire. But, staying alert, I thwarted all their attempts and thought I was safe from their tricks until one of those bloodhounds, inspired, I believe, by the devil himself, set a trap that finally caught me. He made it his mission to investigate my business dealings and, realizing that I had several chests of goods declared at the customs office, he had himself packed into a box of the same size, with air holes at the bottom for breathing, and labeled it. He was then delivered to my door in a cart with my other goods and, when it was hoisted up to my warehouse, I stood there with a hammer ready to open the chests to check the contents against the invoice. Imagine my shock and fear when I uncovered the box and saw a bailiff popping his head out like Lazarus from the grave, declaring that he had a writ against me for a thousand pounds. I did aim the hammer at his head, but in my panic, I missed. Before I could take another swing, he jumped up swiftly and made his arrest in front of several witnesses he had gathered in the street, leaving me with no way to escape without risking an arrest warrant I couldn’t defend against. But if I had known what was in that chest, I swear I would have told my porter to lift it as high as the crane would go and then accidentally cut the rope.”
“That expedient,” said the knight with the red ribbon, “would have discouraged him from such hazardous attempts for the future, and would have been an example in terrorem of all his brethren. The story puts me in mind of a deliverance achieved by Tom Hackabout, a very stout, honest fellow, an old acquaintance of mine, who had been so famous for maiming bailiffs, that another gentleman having been ill-used at a spunging-house, no sooner obtained his liberty, than, with a view of being revenged upon the landlord, he, for five shillings, bought one of Tom's notes, which sold at a very large discount, and, taking out a writ upon it, put it into the hands of the bailiff who had used him ill. The catchpole, after a diligent search, had an opportunity of executing the writ upon the defendant, who, without ceremony, broke one of his arms, fractured his skull, and belaboured him in such a manner, that he lay without sense or motion on the spot. By such exploits, this hero became so formidable, that no single bailiff would undertake to arrest him; so that he appeared in all public places untouched. At length, however, several officers of the Marshalsea court entered into a confederacy against him; and two of the number, attended by three desperate followers, ventured to arrest him one day in the Strand, near Hungerford-market. He found it impossible to make resistance, because the whole gang sprung upon him at once, like so many tigers, and pinioned his arms so fast, that he could not wag a finger. Perceiving himself fairly overpowered, he desired to be conducted forthwith to jail, and was stowed in a boat accordingly; by the time they had reached the middle of the river, he found means to overset the wherry by accident, and every man, disregarding the prisoner, consulted his own safety. As for Hackabout, to whom that element was quite familiar, he mounted astride upon the keel of the boat, which was uppermost, and exhorted the bailiffs to swim for their lives; protesting before God, that they had no other chance to be saved.
“That plan,” said the knight with the red ribbon, “would have discouraged him from trying something so dangerous in the future, and would have been a warning to all his peers. This story reminds me of a rescue made by Tom Hackabout, a brave and honest guy, an old friend of mine, who was so well-known for injuring bailiffs that when another gentleman was mistreated at a debtor's prison, he quickly decided to get revenge on the landlord. For five shillings, he bought one of Tom's notes, which was sold at a very low price, and, taking out a writ against it, handed it over to the bailiff who had treated him poorly. The bailiff, after searching diligently, got a chance to serve the writ on the defendant, who without hesitation broke one of his arms, fractured his skull, and beat him so badly that he lay there unconscious and motionless. With such feats, this hero became so intimidating that no single bailiff would dare to arrest him; as a result, he roamed freely in all public areas. Eventually, though, several officers from the Marshalsea court banded together to go after him. Two of them, accompanied by three reckless associates, dared to arrest him one day in the Strand, near Hungerford Market. He found it impossible to fight back because the whole gang jumped on him all at once, like a pack of tigers, pinning his arms so tightly that he couldn’t move a finger. Realizing he was completely overpowered, he asked to be taken straight to jail, and was placed in a boat accordingly. By the time they reached the middle of the river, he managed to tip the boat over by accident, and each man, ignoring the prisoner, prioritized his own safety. As for Hackabout, who was quite at home in the water, he straddled the upturned boat and urged the bailiffs to swim for their lives, swearing to God that they had no other way to survive.
“The watermen were immediately taken up by some of their own friends, who, far from yielding any assistance to the catchpoles, kept aloof, and exulted in their calamity. In short, two of the five went to the bottom, and never saw the light of God's sun, and the other three, with great difficulty, saved themselves by laying hold on the rudder of a dung-barge, to which they were carried by the stream, while Tom, with great deliberation, swam across to the Surrey shore. After this achievement, he was so much dreaded by the whole fraternity, that they shivered at the very mention of his name; and this character, which some people would think an advantage to a man in debt, was the greatest misfortune that could possibly happen to him; because no tradesman would give him credit for the least trifle, on the supposition that he could not indemnify himself in the common course of law.”
“The watermen were quickly picked up by some of their friends, who, instead of helping the catchpoles, kept their distance and reveled in their misfortune. In short, two out of the five sank to the bottom and never saw the light of day again, while the other three, with great difficulty, saved themselves by grabbing onto the rudder of a dung barge, which the current carried them to. Meanwhile, Tom calmly swam across to the Surrey shore. After this act, he became so feared by the entire group that they flinched at the mere mention of his name; and this reputation, which some might see as an advantage for someone in debt, was actually the worst possible thing for him because no shopkeeper would extend him credit for even the smallest item, thinking he wouldn't be able to pay it back through normal legal means.”
The parson did not approve of Mr. Hackabout's method of escaping, which he considered as a very unchristian attempt upon the lives of his fellow-subjects. “It is enough,” said he, “that we elude the laws of our country, without murdering the officers of justice. For my own part, I can lay my hand upon my heart, and safely say, that I forgive from my soul the fellow by whom I was made a prisoner, although the circumstances of his behaviour were treacherous, wicked, and profane. You must know, Mr. Pickle, I was one day called into my chapel, in order to join a couple in the holy bands of matrimony; and, my affairs being at that time so situated, as to lay me under apprehensions of an arrest, I cautiously surveyed the man through a lattice which was made for that purpose, before I would venture to come within his reach. He was clothed in a seaman's jacket and trousers, and had such an air of simplicity in his countenance, as divested me of all suspicion. I therefore, without further scruple, trusted myself in his presence, began to exercise the duty of my function, and had actually performed one half of the ceremony, when the supposed woman, pulling out a paper from her bosom, exclaimed, with a masculine voice, 'Sir, you are my prisoner; I have got a writ against you for five hundred pounds.' I was thunderstruck at this declaration, not so much on account of my own misfortune, which, thank Heaven, I can bear with patience and resignation, as at the impiety of the wretch, first, in disguising such a worldly aim under the cloak of religion; and, secondly, in prostituting the service, when there was no occasion for so doing, his design having previously taken effect. Yet I forgive him, poor soul! because he knew not what he did; and I hope you, Sir Simple, will exert the same Christian virtue towards the man by whom you were likewise overreached.”
The parson didn’t approve of Mr. Hackabout's way of escaping, which he thought was a very un-Christian attempt on the lives of his fellow citizens. “It’s enough,” he said, “that we evade the laws of our country without killing the officers of justice. For my part, I can honestly say that I forgive the man who made me a prisoner, even though his behavior was treacherous, wicked, and disrespectful. You have to know, Mr. Pickle, that I was once called into my chapel to marry a couple, and since I was worried about getting arrested, I carefully observed the man through a lattice designed for that purpose before I would get too close to him. He was dressed in a sailor's jacket and trousers, and looked so innocent that I had no reason to suspect him. So, without any more hesitation, I stepped into his presence, began to perform my duties, and had actually completed half of the ceremony when the supposed woman pulled a paper from her bosom and announced, in a man’s voice, 'Sir, you are my prisoner; I have a writ against you for five hundred pounds.' I was shocked by this revelation, not so much because of my own misfortune—thank God I can handle that with patience and acceptance—but because of the wickedness of the scoundrel, first, for disguising such a worldly aim under the guise of religion, and second, for desecrating the service when there was no need to do so, since his plan had already succeeded. Still, I forgive him, poor soul! because he didn’t know what he was doing; and I hope you, Sir Simple, will show the same Christian kindness to the man who also tricked you.”
“Oh! d— the rascal,” cried the knight; “were I his judge, he should be condemned to flames everlasting. A villain! to disgrace me in such a manner, before almost all the fashionable company in town.” Our hero expressing a curiosity to know the particulars of this adventure, the knight gratified his desire, by telling him, that one evening, while he was engaged in a party of cards, at a drum in the house of a certain lady of quality, he was given to understand by one of the servants, that a stranger, very richly dressed, was just arrived in a chair, preceded by five footmen with flambeaux, and that he refused to come upstairs, until he should be introduced by Sir Simple. “Upon this notice,” continued the knight, “I judged it was some of my quality friends; and, having obtained her ladyship's permission to bring him up, went down to the hall, and perceived a person, whom, to the best of my recollection, I had never seen before. However, his appearance was so magnificent, that I could not harbour the least suspicion of his true quality; and, seeing me advance, he saluted me with a very genteel bow, observing, that though he had not the honour of my acquaintance, he could not dispense with waiting upon me, even on that occasion, in consequence of a letter which he had received from a particular friend. So saying, he put a paper into my hand, intimating that he had got a writ against me for ten thousand pounds, and that it would be my interest to submit without resistance, for he was provided with a guard of twenty men, who surrounded the door in different disguises, determined to secure me against all opposition. Enraged at the scoundrel's finesse, and trusting to the assistance of the real footmen assembled in the hall, 'So you are a rascally bailiff,' said I, 'who have assumed the garb of a gentleman, in order to disturb her ladyship's company. Take this fellow, my lads, and roll him in the kennel. Here are ten guineas for your trouble.' These words were no sooner pronounced, than I was seized, lifted up, placed in a chair, and carried off in the twinkling of an eye; not but that the servants of the house, and some other footmen, made a motion towards my rescue, and alarmed all the company above. But the bailiff affirming with undaunted effrontery, that I was taken up upon an affair of state, and so many people appearing in his behalf, the countess would not suffer the supposed messenger to be insulted; and he carried me to the county jail without further let or molestation.”
“Oh! Damn the rascal,” shouted the knight; “if I were his judge, he’d be sentenced to eternal flames. A villain! to humiliate me like this, in front of almost all the high-society crowd in town.” Our hero, curious about the details of this incident, prompted the knight to share, and he explained that one evening, while he was at a card game at a certain lady’s house, he was informed by one of the servants that a richly dressed stranger had just arrived, accompanied by five footmen carrying torches, and that the stranger refused to come upstairs until introduced by Sir Simple. “Upon hearing this,” the knight continued, “I assumed it was one of my high-society friends; after getting the lady’s permission to bring him up, I went down to the hall and saw a person I didn't recognize. However, he looked so impressive that I had no reason to doubt his status; as I approached, he greeted me with a very courteous bow, saying that even though he didn't have the honor of knowing me, he couldn’t forgo introducing himself due to a letter he had received from a close friend. With that, he handed me a paper, suggesting I had a writ against me for ten thousand pounds, and that it would be in my best interest to comply without putting up a fight, as he had a guard of twenty men waiting outside in various disguises, ready to take me in if I resisted. Furious at the scoundrel’s trickery and relying on the help of the real footmen in the hall, I said, ‘So you’re a rogue bailiff pretending to be a gentleman just to disrupt her ladyship’s gathering. Take this creep away, my friends, and throw him in the gutter. Here are ten guineas for your trouble.’ No sooner had I spoken than I was seized, picked up, placed in a chair, and whisked away in the blink of an eye; though the house staff and some other footmen tried to intervene and alerted everyone upstairs. But the bailiff boldly claimed I was being detained for a matter of state, and with so many people supporting him, the countess wouldn’t allow the supposed messenger to be mistreated; he took me off to the county jail without any further issues.”
CHAPTER XCVIII.
Pickle seems tolerably well reconciled to his Cage; and is by the Clergyman entertained with the Memoirs of a Noted Personage, whom he sees by accident in the Fleet.
Pickle seems pretty well adjusted to his cage; and the clergyman keeps him entertained with the memoirs of a famous person he happens to see in the Fleet.
The knight had scarce finished his narrative, when our hero was told, that a gentleman in the coffee-room wanted to see him; and when he went thither, he found his friend Crabtree, who had transacted all his affairs, according to the determination of the preceding day; and now gave him an account of the remarks he overheard, on the subject of his misfortune; for the manner of the arrest was so public and extraordinary, that those who were present immediately propagated it among their acquaintance, and it was that same evening discoursed upon at several tea and card tables, with this variation from the truth, that the debt amounted to twelve thousand, instead of twelve hundred pounds. From which circumstance it was conjectured, that Peregrine was a bite from the beginning, who had found credit on account of his effrontery and appearance, and imposed himself upon the town as a young gentleman of fortune. They rejoiced, therefore, at his calamity, which they considered as a just punishment for his fraud and presumption, and began to review certain particulars of his conduct, that plainly demonstrated him to be a rank adventurer, long before he had arrived at this end of his career.
The knight had barely finished his story when our hero was informed that a gentleman in the coffee room wanted to see him. When he went there, he found his friend Crabtree, who had taken care of all his affairs according to the plan from the day before. Crabtree then updated him on the comments he overheard about his misfortune. The way the arrest happened was so public and extraordinary that those who witnessed it quickly spread the news among their acquaintances, and that same evening, it was discussed at several tea and card tables—with the false detail that the debt amounted to twelve thousand instead of twelve hundred pounds. From this, people speculated that Peregrine was a fraud from the start, having gained credit due to his boldness and appearance, and he had deceived the town into thinking he was a young gentleman of means. They took pleasure in his downfall, seeing it as a fitting punishment for his deceit and arrogance, and began to recall certain aspects of his behavior that clearly indicated he was a blatant adventurer long before he reached this point in his life.
Pickle, who now believed his glory was set for ever, received this intelligence with that disdain which enables a man to detach himself effectually from the world, and, with great tranquility, gave the misanthrope an entertaining detail of what he had seen and heard since their last parting. While they amused themselves in this manner over a dish of coffee they were joined by the parson, who congratulated our hero upon his bearing mischance with such philosophic quite, and began to regale the two friends with some curious circumstances relating to the private history of the several prisoners, as they happened to come in. At length a gentleman entered; at sight of whom the clergyman rose up, and saluted him with a most reverential bow, which was graciously returned by the stranger, who, with a young man that attended him, retired to the other end of the room. They were no sooner out of hearing, than the communicative priest desired his company to take particular notice of this person to whom he had paid his respects. “That man,” said he, “is this day one of the most flagrant instances of neglected virtue which the world can produce. Over and above a cool discerning head, fraught with uncommon learning and experience, he is possessed of such fortitude and resolution, as no difficulties can discourage, and no danger impair; and so indefatigable in his humanity, that even now, while he is surrounded with such embarrassments as would distract the brain of an ordinary mortal, he has added considerably to his encumbrances, by taking under his protection that young gentleman, who, induced by his character, appealed to his benevolence for redress of the grievances under which he labours from the villainy of guardian.”
Pickle, who now thought his glory was secure forever, received this news with the kind of disdain that allows a person to separate themselves from the world, and, with great calm, shared an entertaining account of what he had seen and heard since their last meeting. While they enjoyed coffee together, the parson joined them, congratulating our hero on handling misfortune with such philosophical calm and beginning to entertain the two friends with some interesting details about the private histories of the various prisoners as they arrived. Eventually, a gentleman walked in; upon seeing him, the clergyman stood up and greeted him with a deep bow, which was graciously reciprocated by the stranger, who, along with a young man accompanying him, moved to the other end of the room. As soon as they were out of earshot, the talkative priest urged his companions to pay special attention to the person he had just greeted. “That man,” he said, “is today one of the most glaring examples of neglected virtue that the world can show. Besides having a clear and discerning mind filled with exceptional knowledge and experience, he possesses such courage and determination that no challenges can dishearten him, and no danger can weaken him; and he is so tireless in his compassion that even now, while he is surrounded by difficulties that would drive an ordinary person insane, he has taken on additional burdens by offering protection to that young gentleman, who, influenced by his character, approached him for help regarding the injustices he suffers from his guardian’s villainy.”
Peregrine's curiosity being excited by this encomium, asked the name of this generous patron, of which when he was informed, “I am no stranger,” said he, “to the fame of that gentleman, who has made a considerable noise in the world, on account of that great cause he undertook in defence of an unhappy orphan; and, since he is a person of such an amiable disposition, I am heartily sorry to find that his endeavours have not met with that successful issue which their good fortune in the beginning seemed to promise. Indeed, the circumstance of his espousing that cause was so uncommon and romantic and the depravity of the human heart so universal, that some people, unacquainted with his real character, imagined his views were altogether selfish; and some were not wanting, who affirmed he was a mere adventurer. Nevertheless, I must do him the justice to own, I have heard some of the most virulent of those who were concerned on the other side of the question, bear testimony in his favour, observing, that he was deceived into the expense of the whole, by the plausible story which at first engaged his compassion. Your description of his character confirms me in the same opinion, though I am quite ignorant of the affair; the particulars of which I should be glad to learn, as well as the genuine account of his own life, many circumstances of which are by his enemies, I believe, egregiously misrepresented.”
Peregrine’s curiosity piqued by this praise, asked for the name of this generous benefactor. When he learned it, he said, “I’m familiar with that gentleman’s reputation, who has made quite an impact because of his efforts to defend an unfortunate orphan. It’s truly disappointing to see that his efforts haven’t achieved the success that their initial promise suggested. The fact that he took on such a unique and romantic cause, paired with the general flaws of human nature, led some people, who don’t really know him, to think his intentions were purely selfish; some even claimed he was just a fortune seeker. Still, I have to acknowledge that I’ve heard even some of the most vocal critics of his position speak positively about him, stating that he was drawn into the costs by the believable story that first touched his heart. Your portrayal of his character aligns with my thoughts, even though I’m completely unfamiliar with the details of the situation; I’d love to learn more about it, as well as the true account of his life, many aspects of which, I believe, have been grossly misrepresented by his enemies.”
“Sir,” answered the priest, “that is a piece of satisfaction which I am glad to find myself capable of giving you. I have had the pleasure of being acquainted with Mr. M— from his youth, and everything which I shall relate concerning him, you may depend upon as a fact which hath fallen under my own cognizance, or been vouched upon the credit of undoubted evidence.
“Sir,” the priest replied, “I’m glad I can provide you with that information. I’ve known Mr. M— since he was young, and everything I tell you about him is based on my own experience or supported by reliable evidence.”
“Mr. M—'s father was a minister of the established church of Scotland, descended from a very ancient clan, and his mother nearly related to a noble family in the northern part of that kingdom. While the son was boarded at a public school, where he made good progress in the Latin tongue, his father died, and he was left an orphan to the care of an uncle, who, finding him determined against any servile employment, kept him at school, that he might prepare himself for the university, with a view of being qualified for his father's profession.
“Mr. M—'s father was a minister of the established church of Scotland, coming from a very old clan, and his mother was closely related to a noble family in the northern part of that kingdom. While the son was living at a public school, where he excelled in Latin, his father passed away, leaving him an orphan under the care of an uncle. The uncle, seeing that the boy was set against any menial job, kept him in school so he could prepare for university and qualify for his father's profession.”
“Here his imagination was so heated by the warlike achievements he found recorded in the Latin authors, such as Caesar, Curtius, and Buchanan, that he was seized with an irresistible thirst of military glory, and desire of trying his fortune in the army. His Majesty's troops taking the field, in consequence of the rebellion which happened in the year seventeen hundred and fifteen, this young adventurer, thinking no life equal to that of a soldier, found means to furnish himself with a fusil and bayonet, and, leaving the school, repaired to the camp near Stirling with a view of signalizing himself in the field, though he was at that time but just turned of thirteen. He offered his service to several officers, in hope of being enlisted in their companies; but they would not receive him, because they rightly concluded, that he was some schoolboy broke loose, without the knowledge or consent of his relations. Notwithstanding this discouragement, he continued in camp, curiously prying into every part of the service; and such was the resolution conspicuous in him, even at such a tender age, that, after his small finances were exhausted, he persisted in his design; and, because he would not make his wants known, actually subsisted for several days on hips, haws, and sloes, and other spontaneous fruits, which he gathered in the woods and fields. Meanwhile, he never failed to be present, when any regiment or corps of men were drawn out to be exercised and reviewed, and accompanied them in all their evolutions, which he had learned to great perfection, by observing the companies which were quartered in the place where he was at school. This eagerness and perseverance attracted the notice of many officers, who, after having commended his spirit and zeal, pressed him to return to his parents, and even threatened to expel him from the camp, if he would not comply with their advice.
“Here, his imagination was fired up by the heroic feats he read about in Latin authors like Caesar, Curtius, and Buchanan, leading him to develop an unstoppable craving for military glory and a desire to try his luck in the army. When His Majesty's troops were deployed due to the rebellion in 1715, this young adventurer, believing nothing compared to the life of a soldier, found a way to get himself a musket and bayonet. He left school and headed to the camp near Stirling, eager to make a name for himself in battle, even though he had just turned thirteen. He offered his services to several officers, hoping to be enlisted in their companies, but they turned him away, correctly guessing he was just a schoolboy running away without his family’s knowledge or permission. Despite this setback, he stayed at the camp, eagerly learning everything he could about military life. His determination was evident even at such a young age; after his limited money ran out, he refused to reveal his hunger and survived for several days on hips, haws, sloes, and other wild fruits he picked in the woods and fields. Meanwhile, he made it a point to be present whenever any regiment or group of soldiers was put through drills and exercises, following along with all their movements, which he had perfected by watching the companies stationed near his school. His enthusiasm and persistence caught the attention of many officers, who praised his spirit and zeal but urged him to return to his parents, even threatening to kick him out of the camp if he didn't follow their advice.”
“These remonstrances having no other effect than that of warning him to avoid his monitors, they thought proper to alter their behaviour towards him, took him into their protection, and even into their mess, and what, above all other marks of favour, pleased the young soldier most, permitted him to incorporate in the battalion, and take his turn of duty with the other men. In this happy situation he was discovered by a relation of his mother, who was a captain in the army, and who used all his authority and influence in persuading M— to return to school; but, finding him deaf to his admonitions and threats, he took him under his own care, and, when the army marched to Dumblane, left him at Stirling with express injunctions to keep himself within the walls.
“These warnings only served to tell him to stay away from his critics, so they decided to change how they treated him. They took him under their wing and included him in their group, and what pleased the young soldier most, they allowed him to officially join the battalion and take his turn at duty with the other men. In this fortunate situation, a relative of his mother, a captain in the army, found him. The captain used all his power and influence to convince M— to go back to school, but when he realized M— was ignoring his advice and threats, he took him under his own protection. When the army moved to Dumblane, he left M— in Stirling with clear instructions to stay within the walls.”
“He temporized with his kinsman, fearing that, should he seem refractory, the captain would have ordered him to be shut up in the castle. Inflamed with the desire of seeing a battle, his relation no sooner marched off the ground, than he mixed in with another regiment, to which his former patrons belonged, and proceeded to the field, where he distinguished himself, even at that early time of life, by his gallantry, in helping to retrieve a pair of colours belonging to M—n's regiment; so that, after the affair, he was presented to the duke of Argyll, and recommended strongly to Brigadier Grant, who invited him into his regiment, and promised to provide for him with the first opportunity. But that gentleman in a little time lost his command upon the duke's disgrace, and the regiment was ordered for Ireland, being given to Colonel Nassau, whose favour the young volunteer acquired to such a degree, that he was recommended to the king for his ensigncy, which in all probability he would have obtained, had not the regiment been unluckily reduced.
“He stalled with his relative, worried that if he seemed disobedient, the captain would have him locked up in the castle. Eager to see a battle, as soon as his relative left the area, he joined another regiment that his previous supporters were part of and headed to the battlefield, where he stood out even at a young age for his bravery, helping to recover a pair of colors belonging to M—n's regiment. After the skirmish, he was introduced to the Duke of Argyll and was strongly recommended to Brigadier Grant, who invited him to join his regiment and promised to help him as soon as possible. However, that gentleman soon lost his position after the duke's fall from grace, and the regiment was ordered to Ireland, transferring to Colonel Nassau, whose favor the young volunteer gained to such an extent that he was recommended to the king for his ensigncy, which he would likely have received if the regiment hadn’t unfortunately been disbanded."
“In consequence of this reduction, which happened in the most severe season of the year, he was obliged to return to his own country, through infinite hardships, to which he was exposed from the narrowness of his circumstances. And continuing still enamoured of a military life, he entered into the regiment of Scots Greys, at that time commanded by the late Sir James Campbell, who, being acquainted with his family and character, encouraged him with a promise of speedy preferment. In this corps he remained three years, during which he had no opportunity of seeing actual service, except at the affair of Glensheel; and this life of insipid quiet must have hung heavy upon a youth of M—'s active disposition, had not he found exercise for the mind, in reading books of amusement, history, voyages, and geography, together with those that treated of the art of war, ancient and modern, for which he contracted such an eager appetite, that he used to spend sixteen hours a day in this employment. About that time he became acquainted with a gentleman of learning and taste, who observing his indefatigable application, and insatiable thirst after knowledge, took upon himself the charge of superintending his studies; and, by the direction of such an able guide, the young soldier converted his attention to a more solid and profitable course of reading. So inordinate was his desire of making speedy advances in the paths of learning, that within the compass of three months, he diligently perused the writings of Locke and Malebranche, and made himself master of the first six and of the eleventh and twelfth books of Euclid's Elements. He considered Puffendorf and Grotius with uncommon care, acquired a tolerable degree of knowledge in the French language, and his imagination was so captivated with the desire of learning, that, seeing no prospect of a war, or views of being provided for in the service, he quitted the army, and went through a regular course of university education. Having made such progress in his studies, he resolved to qualify himself for the church, and acquired such a stock of school divinity, under the instructions of a learned professor at Edinburgh, that he more than once mounted the rostrum in the public hall, and held forth with uncommon applause. But being discouraged from a prosecution of his plan, by the unreasonable austerity of some of the Scotch clergy, by whom the most indifferent and innocent words and actions were often misconstrued into levity and misconduct, he resolved to embrace the first favourable opportunity of going abroad, being inflamed with the desire of seeing foreign countries; and actually set out for Holland, where, for the space of two years, he studied the Roman law, with the law of nature and nations, under the famous professors Tolieu and Barbeyrac.
As a result of this cutback, which occurred during the harshest season of the year, he had to return to his home country, facing countless struggles due to his limited circumstances. Still passionate about military life, he joined the regiment of Scots Greys, then led by the late Sir James Campbell, who, knowing his family and character, encouraged him with a promise of quick advancement. He stayed in this regiment for three years, during which he had no real chance to see action except during the incident at Glensheel; this dull life must have felt heavy for a youth like M— with an active nature, if not for the mental exercise he found in reading entertaining books, history, travel, and geography, as well as works on the art of war, both ancient and modern. He became so eager to learn that he spent sixteen hours a day on this pursuit. Around that time, he met a knowledgeable and cultured gentleman who, noticing his tireless dedication and thirst for knowledge, took on the responsibility of overseeing his studies. With such a capable guide, the young soldier shifted his focus to more substantial and valuable reading. His intense desire to quickly advance in learning was such that within three months, he diligently read the works of Locke and Malebranche and mastered the first six books along with the eleventh and twelfth books of Euclid's Elements. He studied Puffendorf and Grotius with great care, gained a decent understanding of French, and his imagination was so captured by his desire to learn that, seeing no prospect of war or a chance for advancement in the military, he left the army and went through a formal course of university education. After making significant progress in his studies, he decided to prepare himself for the church, acquiring a solid foundation in theology under a learned professor in Edinburgh, which led him to speak publicly in the hall with great acclaim. However, discouraged from pursuing this path by the unreasonable strictness of some Scottish clergy, who often misinterpreted even the most innocent words and actions as frivolous or inappropriate, he resolved to take the first chance to travel abroad, driven by a desire to see foreign countries. He set off for Holland, where he studied Roman law, as well as the law of nature and nations, under the renowned professors Tolieu and Barbeyrac for two years.
“Having thus finished his school education, he set out for Paris, with a view to make himself perfect in the French language, and learn such useful exercises, as might be acquired with the wretched remnant of his slender estate, which was by that time reduced very low. In his journey through the Netherlands, he went to Namur, and paid his respects to Bishop Strickland and General Collier, by whom he was received with great civility, in consequence of letters of recommendation, with which he was provided from the Hague; and the old general assured him of his protection and interest for a pair of colours, if he was disposed to enter into the Dutch service. Though he was by that time pretty well cured of his military quixotism, he would not totally decline the generous proffer, for which he thanked him in the most grateful terms, telling the general that he would pay his duty to him on his return from France, and then, if he could determine upon re-engaging in the army, should think himself highly honoured in being under his command.
“After finishing his schooling, he set off for Paris to perfect his French and learn useful skills that he could manage with the little money he had left, which was quite scarce by that time. On his journey through the Netherlands, he stopped in Namur and paid his respects to Bishop Strickland and General Collier, who welcomed him warmly thanks to letters of recommendation he had from The Hague. The old general offered him his protection and support for a commission if he wanted to join the Dutch service. Although he had mostly moved on from his romantic notions about the military, he didn’t completely turn down the generous offer. He thanked the general sincerely, saying he would visit him upon his return from France, and if he decided to rejoin the army, he would consider it a great honor to serve under him.”
“After a stay of two months in Flanders, he proceeded to Paris, and, far from taking up his habitation in the suburbs of St. Germain, according to the custom of English travellers, he hired a private lodging on the other side of the river, and associated chiefly with French officers, who, their youthful sallies being over, are allowed to be the politest gentlemen of that kingdom. In this scheme he found his account so much, that he could not but wonder at the folly of his countrymen, who lose the main scope of their going abroad, by spending their time and fortune idly with one another.
“After spending two months in Flanders, he went to Paris, and instead of settling in the suburbs of St. Germain like most English travelers, he rented a private room on the other side of the river and mainly socialized with French officers, who, having moved past their youthful antics, are considered the politest gentlemen in the country. In this arrangement, he found so much satisfaction that he couldn't help but be amazed at the foolishness of his countrymen, who miss the main purpose of traveling abroad by wasting their time and money hanging out with each other.”
“During his residence in Holland, he had made himself acquainted with the best authors in the French language, so that he was able to share in their conversation; a circumstance from which he found great benefit; for it not only improved him in his knowledge of that tongue, but also tended to the enlargement of his acquaintance, in the course of which he contracted intimacies in some families of good fashion, especially those of the long robe, which would have enabled him to pass his time very agreeably, had he been a little easier in point of fortune. But his finances, notwithstanding the most rigid economy, being in a few months reduced to a very low ebb, the prospect of indigence threw a damp upon all his pleasures, though he never suffered himself to be thereby in any degree dispirited; being in that respect of so happy a disposition, that conscious poverty or abundance made very slight impressions upon his mind. This consumption of his cash, however, involved him in some perplexity, and he deliberated with himself, whether he should return to General Collier, or repair to London, where he might possibly fall into some business not unbecoming a gentleman; though he was very much mortified to find himself incapable of gratifying an inordinate desire which possessed him of making the grand tour, or, at least, of visiting the southern parts of France.
“While living in Holland, he got to know the top authors in French, which allowed him to participate in their conversations; this was very beneficial for him, as it not only improved his language skills but also expanded his social circle. During this time, he formed close relationships with some well-to-do families, especially those in the legal profession, which would have made his time there quite enjoyable if he had been a little more comfortable financially. However, despite his strict budgeting, his finances quickly dropped to a very low point. The fear of poverty dampened all his enjoyment, yet he never let it get him down; he had such a positive attitude that the awareness of being broke or wealthy barely affected him. Still, this depletion of his funds put him in a difficult position, and he debated whether to go back to General Collier or head to London, where he might find work suitable for a gentleman. It really bothered him to realize he couldn't satisfy his intense desire to take the grand tour or at least visit the southern parts of France.”
“While he thus hesitated between different suggestions, he was one morning visited by a gentleman who had sought and cultivated his friendship, and for whom he had done a good office, in supporting him with spirit against a brutal German, with whom he had an affair of honour. This gentleman came to propose a party for a fortnight, to Fontainebleau, where the court then was; and the proposal being declined by M— with more than usual stiffness, his friend was very urgent to know the reason of his refusal, and at length, with some confusion, said, 'Perhaps your finances are low?' M— replied, that he had wherewithal to defray the expense of his journey to London, where he could be furnished with a fresh supply; and this answer was no sooner made, than the other taking him by the hand, 'My dear friend,' said he, 'I am not unacquainted with your affairs, and would have offered you my credit long ago, if I had thought it would be acceptable; even now, I do not pretend to give you money, but desire and insist upon it, that you will accept of the loan of these two pieces of paper, to be repaid when you marry a woman with a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, or obtain an employment of a thousand a year.' So saying, he presented him with two actions of above two thousand livres each.
“While he hesitated between different options, one morning a gentleman, who had sought and developed a friendship with him, came to visit. This was someone he had helped previously, standing with him against a brutal German in a matter of honor. The gentleman came to suggest a two-week trip to Fontainebleau, where the court was at the time; however, M— declined the invitation with more stiffness than usual. His friend was quite eager to know why he refused and finally, somewhat awkwardly, said, 'Maybe your finances are tight?' M— replied that he had enough to cover his journey to London, where he could get more funds. As soon as he said this, the other took his hand and said, 'My dear friend, I know about your situation and would have offered you my support earlier if I thought you'd accept it. Even now, I’m not trying to give you money, but I want you to accept this loan of two pieces of paper, to be repaid when you marry a woman with a fortune of twenty thousand pounds or get a job that pays a thousand a year.' With that, he handed him two bonds worth over two thousand livres each.”
“M— was astonished at this unexpected instance of generosity, in a stranger, and, with suitable acknowledgment, peremptorily refused to incur such an obligation; but at length he was, by dint of importunity and warm expostulation, prevailed upon to accept one of the actions, on condition that the gentleman would take his note for the sum; and this he absolutely rejected, until M— promised to draw upon him for double the value or more, in case he should at any time want a further supply. This uncommon act of friendship and generosity, afterwards had an opportunity to repay tenfold, though he could not help regretting the occasion, on his friend's account. That worthy man having, by placing too much confidence in a villainous lawyer, and a chain of other misfortunes, involved himself and his amiable lady in a labyrinth of difficulties, which threatened the total ruin of his family, M— felt the inexpressible satisfaction of delivering his benefactor from the snare.
“M— was shocked by this unexpected act of generosity from a stranger and, while he acknowledged it appropriately, firmly refused to take on such a debt. However, after much persistence and passionate pleading, he finally agreed to accept one of the actions on the condition that the gentleman would accept his note for the amount; this the gentleman absolutely rejected until M— promised to draw on him for double the value or more if he ever needed additional support. This rare act of friendship and generosity later had the chance to repay tenfold, although he couldn’t help but regret the circumstances on behalf of his friend. That good man, having placed too much trust in a dishonest lawyer and faced a series of other misfortunes, found himself and his lovely wife trapped in a web of difficulties that threatened to completely ruin his family. M— felt a deep satisfaction in being able to rescue his benefactor from that trap.”
“Being thus reinforced by the generosity of his friend, M— resolved to execute his former plan of seeing the south of France, together with the sea-ports of Spain, as far as Cadiz, from whence he proposed to take a passage for London by sea; and, with this view, sent forward his trunks by the diligence to Lyons, determined to ride post, in order to enjoy a better view of the country, and for the conveniency of stopping at those places where there was anything remarkable to be seen or inquired into. While he was employed in taking leave of his Parisian friends, who furnished him with abundant recommendation, a gentleman of his own country, who spoke little or no French, hearing of his intention, begged the favour of accompanying him in his expedition. With this new companion, therefore, he set out for Lyons, where he was perfectly well received by the intendant and some of the best families of the place, in consequence of his letters of recommendation; and, after a short stay in that city, proceeded down the Rhone to Avignon, in what is called the coche d'eau; then visiting the principal towns of Dauphiny, Languedoc, and Provence, he returned to the delightful city of Marseilles, where he and his fellow-traveller were so much captivated by the serenity of the air, the good-nature and hospitality of the sprightly inhabitants, that they never dreamed of changing their quarters during the whole winter and part of the spring: here he acquired the acquaintance of the Marquis d'Argens, attorney-general in the parliament of Aix, and of his eldest son, who now makes so great a figure in the literary world; and when the affair of Father Girard and Mademoiselle Cadiere began to make a noise, he accompanied these two gentlemen to Toulon, where the marquis was ordered to take a precognition of the facts.
“Supported by his friend's generosity, M— decided to go ahead with his plan to explore the south of France and the coastal towns of Spain, all the way to Cadiz, from where he intended to take a boat to London. With this goal in mind, he sent his trunks ahead by coach to Lyons, planning to travel by post to enjoy better views of the countryside and to easily stop at points of interest. While saying goodbye to his friends in Paris, who provided him with plenty of recommendations, a fellow countryman who spoke little or no French learned of his plans and asked if he could join him on his journey. So, with this new companion, he set off for Lyons, where he was warmly welcomed by the local officials and some of the finest families, thanks to his letters of recommendation. After a brief stay in that city, he traveled down the Rhone to Avignon by what is known as the coche d'eau; then, after visiting the major towns of Dauphiné, Languedoc, and Provence, he returned to the charming city of Marseilles. There, he and his travel companion were so taken by the pleasant atmosphere, the friendliness, and hospitality of the lively locals that they decided to stay there for the entire winter and part of the spring. During this time, he got to know the Marquis d'Argens, the attorney-general in the Aix parliament, and his eldest son, who is now quite prominent in the literary scene. When the case of Father Girard and Mademoiselle Cadiere began to attract attention, he accompanied these two gentlemen to Toulon, where the marquis was assigned to look into the matter.”
“On his return to Marseilles, he found a certain noble lord of great fortune, under the direction of a Swiss governor, who had accommodated him with two of his own relations, of the same country, by way of companions, together with five servants in his train. They being absolute strangers in the place, M—introduced them to the intendant, and several other good families, and had the good fortune to be so agreeable to his lordship, that he proposed and even pressed him to live with him in England as a friend and companion, and to take upon him the superintendence of his affairs, in which case he would settle upon him four hundred a year for life.
“Upon returning to Marseilles, he encountered a wealthy nobleman, overseen by a Swiss governor, who had provided him with two of his own relatives from Switzerland as companions, along with five servants. Since they were complete strangers in the area, M—introduced them to the intendant and several other respectable families. Fortunately, he was so agreeable to the nobleman that he proposed, and even urged him, to live with him in England as a friend and companion and to manage his affairs, in which case he would grant him four hundred a year for life.”
“This proposal was too advantageous to be slighted by a person of no fortune, or fixed establishment: he therefore made no difficulty of closing with it; but, as his lordship's departure was fixed to a short day, and he urged him to accompany him to Paris, and from thence to England, M— thought it would be improper and indecent to interfere with the office of his governor, who might take umbrage at his favour, and therefore excused himself from a compliance with his lordship's request, until his minority should be expired, as he was within a few months of being of age. However, he repeated his importunities so earnestly, and the governor joined in the request with such appearance of cordiality, that he was prevailed upon to comply with their joint desire; and in a few days set out with them for Paris, by the way of Lyons. But, before they had been three days in the city, M— perceived a total change in the behaviour of the Swiss and his two relations, who, in all probability, became jealous of his influence with his lordship; and he no sooner made this discovery, than he resolved to withdraw himself from such a disagreeable participation of that young nobleman's favour. He, therefore, in spite of all his lordship's entreaties and remonstrances, quitted him for the present, alleging, as a pretext, that he had a longing desire to see Switzerland and the banks of the Rhine, and promising to meet him again in England.
“This offer was too good to pass up for someone without wealth or a stable position: he had no problem accepting it; however, since his lordship was set to leave in a few days and urged him to come along to Paris and then to England, M— thought it would be inappropriate to interfere with his governor's role, who might take offense at his favoritism. So, he declined his lordship's request until he turned 18, as he was only a few months away from coming of age. Nevertheless, his lordship insisted so passionately, and the governor supported the request with such apparent warmth, that he was convinced to go along with their wishes. A few days later, they set off for Paris via Lyons. Yet, within three days in the city, M— noticed a complete shift in the behavior of the Swiss and his two relatives, who likely became jealous of his relationship with his lordship. As soon as he realized this, he decided to distance himself from the unpleasantness of that young nobleman's favor. Therefore, despite all his lordship's pleas and objections, he left him for the time being, claiming he had a strong desire to see Switzerland and the banks of the Rhine, and promised to reunite in England.
“This his intention being made known to the governor and his friends, their countenances immediately cleared up, their courtesy and complaisance returned, and they even furnished him with letters for Geneva, Lausanne, Bern, and Soleures; in consequence of which he met with unusual civilities at these places. Having made this tour with his Scotch friend, who came up to him before he left Lyons, and visited the most considerable towns on both sides of the Rhine, and the courts of the electors Palatine, Mentz, and Cologne, he arrived in Holland; and from thence, through the Netherlands, repaired to London, where he found my lord just returned from Paris.
“This intention of his became known to the governor and his friends, and their expressions immediately brightened, their politeness and friendliness returned, and they even gave him letters for Geneva, Lausanne, Bern, and Solothurn; as a result, he received unusual kindness in these places. After touring with his Scottish friend, who met with him before he left Lyon, and visited the most significant towns on both sides of the Rhine, as well as the courts of the electors Palatine, Mainz, and Cologne, he arrived in Holland; from there, he traveled through the Netherlands to London, where he found my lord just returned from Paris.”
“His lordship received him with expressions of uncommon joy, would not suffer him to stir from him for several days, and introduced him to his relations. M— accompanied his lordship from London to his country seat, where he was indeed treated with great friendship and confidence, and consulted in everything; but the noble peer never once made mention of the annuity which he had promised to settle upon him, nor did M— remind him of it, because he conceived it was his affair to fulfil his engagements of his own accord. M— being tired of the manner of living at this place, made an excursion to Bath, where he stayed about a fortnight, to partake of the diversions, and, upon his return, found his lordship making dispositions for another journey to Paris.
“His lordship greeted him with unusual happiness, wouldn’t let him leave for several days, and introduced him to his family. M— traveled with his lordship from London to his country estate, where he was treated with genuine friendship and trust, and consulted on everything. However, the noble peer never mentioned the annuity he had promised to give him, nor did M— bring it up, thinking it was his responsibility to fulfill his commitments on his own. Tired of the lifestyle at this location, M— took a trip to Bath, where he stayed for about two weeks to enjoy the activities, and upon his return, found his lordship making plans for another trip to Paris.”
“Surprised at this sudden resolution, he endeavoured to dissuade him from it; but his remonstrances were rendered ineffectual by the insinuations of a foreigner who had come over with him, and filled his imagination with extravagant notions of pleasure, infinitely superior to any which he could enjoy while he was in the trammels and under the restraints of a governor. He, therefore, turned a deaf ear to all M—'s arguments, and entreated him to accompany him in the journey; but this gentleman, foreseeing that a young man, like my lord, of strong passions, and easy to be misled, would, in all probability, squander away great sums of money, in a way that would neither do credit to himself, or to those who were concerned with him, resisted all his solicitations, on pretence of having business of consequence at London; and afterwards had reason to be extremely well pleased with his own conduct in this particular.
Surprised by this sudden decision, he tried to talk him out of it; however, his arguments were ineffective due to the suggestions of a foreigner who had come with him and filled his mind with wild ideas about pleasures that were far better than anything he could experience while under the control and limits of a governor. So, he ignored all M—'s reasoning and begged him to join him on the trip; but this gentleman, knowing that a young man like my lord, who had strong emotions and was easily influenced, would likely waste large amounts of money in a manner that wouldn’t reflect well on himself or those involved, refused all his requests, claiming he had important business in London; and later, he had every reason to be quite pleased with how he handled this situation.
“Before he set out on this expedition, M—, in justice to himself, reminded him of the proposal which he had made to him at Marseilles, desiring to know if he had altered his design in that particular; in which case he would turn his thoughts some other way, as he would not in the least be thought to intrude or pin himself upon any man. My lord protested in the most solemn manner, that he still continued in his former resolution, and, again beseeching him to bear him company into France, promised that everything should be settled to his satisfaction upon their return to England. M—, however, still persisted in his refusal, for the above-mentioned reasons, and, though he never heard more of the annuity, he nevertheless continued to serve his lordship with his advice and good offices ever after; particularly in directing his choice to an alliance with a lady of eminent virtue, the daughter of a noble lord, more conspicuous for his shining parts than the splendour of his titles; a circumstance upon which he always reflected with particular satisfaction, as well on account of the extraordinary merit of the lady, as because it vested in her children a considerable part of that great estate, which of right belonged to her grandmother, and afterwards put him in a way to retrieve his estate from a heavy load of debt he had contracted. When my lord set out on his Paris expedition, the money M— had received from his generous friend at Paris was almost reduced to the last guinea. He had not yet reaped the least benefit from his engagements with his lordship; and, disdaining to ask for a supply from him, he knew not how to subsist, with any degree of credit, till his return.
“Before he left for this trip, M—, being fair to himself, reminded him of the proposal he had made in Marseilles, wanting to know if he had changed his mind about that; if so, he would look in another direction, as he didn’t want to be seen as imposing or relying on anyone. My lord firmly stated that he remained committed to his original plan and, once again asking him to accompany him to France, promised that everything would be arranged to M—’s satisfaction when they returned to England. M—, however, continued to refuse for the reasons mentioned earlier, and although he never heard about the annuity again, he nonetheless continued to provide his lordship with advice and support; especially by guiding his choice towards a marriage with a woman of great virtue, the daughter of a noble lord known more for his abilities than for his titles. This was something he always looked back on with satisfaction, both because of the lady's exceptional qualities and because it secured for her children a significant part of the vast estate that rightfully belonged to her grandmother, which later helped him recover his own estate from a heavy burden of debt he had accumulated. When my lord departed for Paris, the money M— had received from his generous friend there was nearly down to the last guinea. He hadn’t yet benefited at all from his arrangements with his lordship, and, refusing to ask him for more support, he didn't know how to get by with any dignity until his return.”
“This uncomfortable prospect was the more disagreeable to him, as, at that time of life, he was much inclined to appear in the gay world, had contracted a taste for plays, operas, and other public diversions, and acquired an acquaintance with many people of good fashion, which could not be maintained without a considerable expense. In this emergency, he thought he could not employ his idle time more profitably than in translating, from foreign languages, such books as were then chiefly in vogue; and upon application to a friend, who was a man of letters, he was furnished with as much business of that kind as he could possibly manage, and wrote some pamphlets on the reigning controversies of that time, that had the good fortune to please. He was also concerned in a monthly journal of literature, and the work was carried on by the two friends jointly, though M— did not at all appear in the partnership. By these means he not only spent his mornings in useful exercise but supplied himself with money for what the French call the menus plaisirs, during the whole summer. He frequented all the assemblies in and about London, and considerably enlarged his acquaintance among the fair sex.
“This uncomfortable situation was even more unpleasant for him because, at that stage in his life, he was very eager to be part of the social scene, had developed a taste for plays, operas, and other public entertainment, and had made connections with many fashionable people, which required a significant amount of money to maintain. Faced with this challenge, he believed he could spend his free time more wisely by translating popular books from foreign languages; after reaching out to a friend who was a literary figure, he got as much work of that kind as he could handle, and wrote some pamphlets on the current controversies that ended up being quite well-received. He was also involved in a monthly literary journal, which he produced in collaboration with his friend, even though M— did not take part in the official partnership. Through these efforts, he not only filled his mornings with productive work but also earned enough money for what the French call the menus plaisirs throughout the entire summer. He attended all the gatherings in and around London and significantly expanded his social circle among women."
“He had, upon his first arrival in England, become acquainted with a lady at an assembly not far from London; and though, at that time, he had no thoughts of extending his views farther than the usual gallantry of the place, he met with such distinguishing marks of her regard in the sequel, and was so particularly encouraged by the advice of another lady, with whom he had been intimate in France, and who was now of their parties, that he could not help entertaining hopes of making an impression upon the heart of his agreeable partner, who was a young lady of an ample fortune and great expectations. He therefore cultivated her good graces with all the assiduity and address of which he was master, and succeeded so well in his endeavours, that, after a due course of attendance, and the death of an aunt, by which she received an accession of fortune to the amount of three and twenty thousand pounds, he ventured to declare his passion, and she not only heard him with patience and approbation, but also replied in terms adequate to his warmest wish.
“He had, upon arriving in England for the first time, met a lady at an event not far from London; and although he initially only intended to pursue the usual flirtations of the area, he received such clear signs of her affection later on, and was particularly encouraged by the advice of another woman he had been close to in France, who was now among their friends, that he couldn’t help but hope to win the heart of his charming partner, a young woman with a substantial fortune and great prospects. He therefore worked hard to gain her favor with all the skill and attention he had, and he was so successful in his efforts that, after a proper amount of courtship, and following the death of an aunt who left her an additional fortune of twenty-three thousand pounds, he gathered the courage to confess his feelings. She not only listened to him patiently and positively but also responded in a way that matched his deepest desires.”
“Finding himself so favourably received, he pressed her to secure his happiness by marriage; but, to this proposal, she objected the recency of her kinswoman's death, which would have rendered such a step highly indecent, and the displeasure of her other relations, from whom she had still greater expectations, and who, at that time, importuned her to marry a cousin of her own, whom she could not like. However, that M— might have no cause to repine at her delay, she freely entered with him into an intimacy of correspondence; during which nothing could have added to their mutual felicity, which was the more poignant and refined, from the mysterious and romantic manner of their enjoying it; for, though he publicly visited her as an acquaintance, his behaviour on these occasions was always so distant, respectful, and reserved, that the rest of the company could not possibly suspect the nature of their reciprocal attachment; in consequence of which they used to have private interviews, unknown to every soul upon earth, except her maid, who was necessarily entrusted with the secret.
“Feeling welcomed, he urged her to secure their happiness through marriage. However, she objected due to the recent death of her relative, which made such a move seem highly inappropriate, along with the disapproval of her other family members, who had greater expectations for her and were pushing her to marry a cousin she didn’t like. To ensure that M— wouldn’t have reason to resent her delay, she willingly engaged in a correspondence with him. During this time, nothing could enhance their shared happiness, which was even more intense and refined due to the secretive and romantic way they experienced it. Though he visited her publicly as a friend, his demeanor at these meetings was always so distant, respectful, and reserved that the other guests could never suspect the true nature of their bond. As a result, they often had private meetings, unknown to anyone but her maid, who had to be trusted with the secret.”
“In this manner they enjoyed the conversation of each other for above twelve months, without the least interruption; and though the stability of Mr. M—'s fortune depended entirely upon their marriage, yet as he perceived his mistress so averse to it, he never urged it with vehemence, nor was at all anxious on that score, being easily induced to defer a ceremony, which, as he then thought, could in no shape have added to their satisfaction, though he hath since altered his sentiments. Be that as it will, his indulgent mistress, in order to set his mind at ease in that particular, and in full confidence of his honour, insisted on his accepting a deed of gift of her whole fortune, in consideration of her intended marriage; and, after some difficulty, he was prevailed upon to receive this proof of her esteem, well knowing that it would still be in his power to return the obligation. Though she often entreated him to take upon himself the entire administration of her finances, and upon divers occasions pressed him to accept of large sums, he never once abused her generous disposition, or solicited her for money, except for some humane purpose, which she was always more ready to fulfil than he to propose.
“In this way, they enjoyed each other’s company for over twelve months without any interruptions. Even though Mr. M—’s wealth completely depended on their marriage, he noticed his partner was against it, so he never pushed the issue too hard and wasn’t too worried about it. He was easily convinced to postpone a ceremony that he thought wouldn’t really increase their happiness, although he later changed his mind about that. Regardless, his understanding partner, wanting to ease his concerns about their situation and fully trusting his integrity, insisted he accept a gift of her entire fortune in light of their planned marriage. After some persuasion, he agreed to accept this token of her affection, knowing he could still choose to return the favor later. Although she frequently asked him to take charge of her finances and pressed him on various occasions to accept large sums, he never took advantage of her generosity or asked her for money, except for a few charitable causes, which she was always more eager to support than he was to suggest.”
“In the course of this correspondence, he became acquainted with some of her female relations, and, among the rest, with a young lady, so eminently adorned with all the qualifications of mind and person, that, notwithstanding all his philosophy and caution, he could not behold and converse with her, without being deeply smitten with her charms. He did all in his power to discourage this dangerous invasion in the beginning, and to conceal the least symptom of it from her relation; he summoned all his reflection to his aid, and, thinking it would be base and dishonest to cherish any sentiment repugnant to the affection which he owed to a mistress who had placed such unlimited confidence in him, he attempted to stifle the infant flame, by avoiding the amiable inspirer of it. But the passion had taken too deep a root in his heart to be so easily extirpated; his absence from the dear object increased the impatience of his love: the intestine conflict between that and gratitude deprived him of his rest and appetite. He was, in a short time, emaciated by continual watching, anxiety, and want of nourishment, and so much altered from his usual cheerfulness, that his mistress, being surprised and alarmed at the change, which, from the symptoms, she judged was owing to some uneasiness of mind, took all imaginable pains to discover the cause. In all probability it did not escape her penetration; for she more than once asked if he was in love with her cousin; protesting that, far from being an obstacle to his happiness, she would, in that case, be an advocate for his passion. However, this declaration was never made without manifest signs of anxiety and uneasiness, which made such an impression upon the heart of M—, that he resolved to sacrifice his happiness, and even his life, rather than take any step which might be construed into an injury or insult to a person who had treated him with such generosity and goodness.
“In the course of this correspondence, he got to know some of her female relatives, including a young lady who was so exceptionally gifted in both mind and appearance that, despite all his reasoning and precautions, he couldn't look at her and talk to her without being deeply captivated by her charm. He did everything he could to put off this dangerous temptation at first, trying to hide even the slightest sign of it from her relative; he called upon all his reasoning for help and, believing it would be dishonest to entertain any feelings that went against the affection he owed to a mistress who had given him such complete trust, he tried to suppress the budding flame by staying away from the lovely source of it. But the passion had taken too strong a hold in his heart to be easily eradicated; being away from the one he adored only intensified his longing. The internal struggle between his desire and his sense of gratitude robbed him of sleep and appetite. Soon, he became thin from constant sleeplessness, anxiety, and lack of nourishment, changing so much from his usual cheerfulness that his mistress, surprised and concerned by this change, which she guessed was due to some inner turmoil, took every possible effort to find out the cause. She likely didn’t miss what was going on; she asked him more than once if he was in love with her cousin, insisting that, far from being an obstacle to his happiness, she would support his feelings in that case. However, this confession was never made without clear signs of worry and unease, which left a strong impression on M—'s heart, convincing him to sacrifice his happiness, and even his life, rather than do anything that could be seen as a slight or insult to someone who had treated him with such generosity and kindness.”
“In consequence of this resolution, he formed another, which was to go abroad, under pretence of recovering his health, but in reality to avoid the temptation, as well as the suspicion of being inconstant; and in this design he was confirmed by his physician, who actually thought him in the first stage of a consumption, and therefore advised him to repair to the south of France. He communicated his design, with the doctor's opinion, to the lady, who agreed to it with much less difficulty than he found in conquering his own reluctance at parting with the dear object of his love. The consent of his generous mistress being obtained, he waited upon her with the instrument whereby she had made the conveyance of her fortune to him; and all his remonstrances being insufficient to persuade her to take it back, he cancelled it in her presence, and placed it in that state upon her toilet, while she was dressing; whereupon she shed a torrent of tears, saying, she now plainly perceived that he wanted to tear himself from her, and that his affections were settled upon another. He was sensibly affected by this proof of her concern, and endeavoured to calm the perturbation of her mind, by vowing eternal fidelity, and pressing her to accept of his hand in due form before his departure. By these means her transports were quieted for the present, and the marriage deferred for the same prudential reasons which had hitherto prevented it.
“As a result of this decision, he made another one: to go abroad, pretending that he needed to recover his health, but really to avoid temptation and the suspicion of being unfaithful. His doctor supported this plan, genuinely believing he was in the early stages of a serious illness, and advised him to travel to the south of France. He shared his plan, along with the doctor's opinion, with the lady, who agreed much more easily than he did in overcoming his own reluctance to part from the beloved object of his affection. Once he had her consent, he presented her with the document through which she had transferred her fortune to him; and despite all his arguments, he couldn’t persuade her to take it back. He canceled it in her presence and left it on her dresser while she was getting ready, at which point she burst into tears, saying she could see clearly now that he wanted to distance himself from her and that his heart was set on someone else. He was deeply moved by her distress and tried to soothe her troubled mind by promising eternal loyalty and urged her to accept his hand in marriage formally before he left. This calmed her down temporarily, and their marriage was postponed for the same practical reasons that had delayed it before."
“Matters being thus compromised, and the day fixed for his departure, she, together with her faithful maid, one morning visited him for the first time at his own lodgings; and, after breakfast, desiring to speak with him in private, he conducted her into another room, where assuming an unusual gravity of aspect, 'My dear M—,' said she, 'you are now going to leave me, and God alone knows if ever we shall meet again; therefore, if you really love me with that tenderness which you profess, you will accept of this mark of my friendship and unalterable affection; it will at least be a provision for your journey, and if an accident should befall me, before I have the happiness of receiving you again into my arms, I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that you are not altogether without resource.' So saying, she put an embroidered pocket-book into his hand. He expressed the high sense he had of her generosity and affection in the most pathetic terms, and begged leave to suspend his acceptance, until he should know the contents of her present, which was so extraordinary, that he absolutely refused to receive it. He was, however, by her repeated entreaties, in a manner compelled to receive about one-half, and she afterwards insisted upon his taking a reinforcement of a considerable sum for the expense of his journey.
"With everything settled and the day set for his departure, she, along with her loyal maid, visited him for the first time at his place one morning. After breakfast, wanting to talk to him privately, he led her into another room. With an unusually serious expression, she said, 'My dear M—, you are about to leave me, and God knows if we will ever meet again; so if you truly love me with the affection you claim, please accept this token of my friendship and unwavering love. It will at least help you on your journey, and if something were to happen to me before I can hold you in my arms again, it would give me peace to know that you aren't completely without support.' Saying this, she handed him an embroidered wallet. He expressed his deep gratitude for her kindness and love in the most heartfelt words and asked to postpone accepting it until he could see what was inside her generous gift, which was so remarkable that he outright refused it. However, after her repeated requests, he was somewhat compelled to take about half of it, and she later insisted he accept a substantial amount to cover his travel expenses."
“Having stayed with her ten days beyond the time he had fixed for his departure, and settled the method of their correspondence, he took his leave, with a heart full of sorrow, anxiety, and distraction, produced from the different suggestions of his duty and love. He then set out for France, and, after a short stay at Paris, proceeded to Aix in Provence, and from thence to Marseilles, at which two places he continued for some months. But nothing he met with being able to dissipate those melancholy ideas which still preyed upon his imagination, and affected his spirits, he endeavoured to elude them with a succession of new objects; and, with that view, persuaded a counsellor of the parliament of Aix, a man of great worth, learning, and good-humour, to accompany him in making a tour of those parts of France which he had not yet seen. On their return from this excursion, they found at Aix an Italian abbe, a person of character, and great knowledge of men and books, who, having travelled all over Germany and France, was so far on his return to his own country.
“After staying with her for ten days longer than he had planned, and figuring out how they would keep in touch, he said goodbye, feeling overwhelmed with sadness, worry, and confusion, caused by the conflicting feelings of his duty and his love. He then left for France, and after a brief stop in Paris, went on to Aix in Provence, and from there to Marseilles, where he stayed for several months. However, nothing he encountered could shake off the gloomy thoughts that continued to haunt him and affect his mood. He tried to escape them by seeking out new experiences; with that aim, he convinced a counselor from the Aix parliament—a man of great character, education, and good humor—to join him on a tour of parts of France he had yet to explore. When they returned from this trip, they found in Aix an Italian abbe, a well-respected individual with a deep understanding of people and literature, who was making his way back to his homeland after traveling all over Germany and France.”
“M— having, by means of his friend the counsellor, contracted an acquaintance with this gentleman, and, being desirous of seeing some parts of Italy, particularly the carnival at Venice, they set out together from Marseilles in a tartan for Genoa, coasting it all the way, and lying on shore every night. Having shown him what was most remarkable in this city, his friend the abbe was so obliging as to conduct him through Tuscany, and the most remarkable cities in Lombardy, to Venice, where M— insisted upon defraying the expense of the whole tour, in consideration of the abbe's complaisance, which had been of infinite service to him in the course of this expedition. Having remained five weeks at Venice, he was preparing to set out for Rome, with some English gentlemen whom he had met by accident, when he was all of a sudden obliged to change his resolution by some disagreeable letters which he received from London. He had, from his first departure, corresponded with his generous, though inconstant mistress, with a religious exactness and punctuality; nor was she, for some time, less observant of the agreement they had made. Nevertheless, she, by degrees, became so negligent and cold in her expression, and so slack in her correspondence, that he could not help observing and upbraiding her with such indifference; and her endeavours to palliate it were supported by pretexts so frivolous, as to be easily seen through by a lover of very little discernment.
“M— had, through his friend the counselor, met this gentleman, and wanting to see some parts of Italy, especially the carnival in Venice, they set out together from Marseilles in a boat for Genoa, staying on the shore each night. After showing him the most interesting sights in the city, his friend the abbe kindly took him through Tuscany and the notable cities in Lombardy to Venice, where M— insisted on covering the costs of the entire trip, acknowledging the abbe's helpfulness which had been invaluable to him during this journey. After spending five weeks in Venice, he was getting ready to leave for Rome with some English gentlemen he had met by chance when he suddenly had to change his plans due to some troubling letters he received from London. Since his departure, he had been in touch with his generous, though unreliable, mistress with religious dedication and punctuality; she initially upheld their agreement too. However, gradually, she became negligent and cold in her responses, and her letters became less frequent, prompting him to notice and confront her about her indifference. Her attempts to explain were backed by excuses so weak that even a lover with little insight could see right through them."
“While he tortured himself with conjectures about the cause of this unexpected change, he received such intelligence from England, as, when joined with what he himself had perceived by her manner of writing, left him little or no room to doubt of her fickleness and inconstancy. Nevertheless, as he knew by experience that informations of that kind are not to be entirely relied upon, he resolved to be more certainly apprised: and, for that end, departed immediately for London, by the way of Tyrol, Bavaria, Alsace, and Paris. On his arrival in England, he learned, with infinite concern, that his intelligence had not been at all exaggerated; and his sorrow was inexpressible to find a person endowed with so many other noble and amiable qualities, seduced into an indiscretion, that of necessity ruined the whole plan which had been concerted between them for their mutual happiness. She made several attempts, by letters and interviews, to palliate her conduct, and soften him into a reconciliation; but his honour being concerned, he remained deaf to all her entreaties and proposals. Nevertheless, I have often heard him say, that he could not help loving her, and revering the memory of a person to whose generosity and goodness he owed his fortune, and one whose foibles were overbalanced by a thousand good qualities. He often insisted on making restitution; but far from complying with that proposal, she afterwards often endeavoured to lay him under yet greater obligations of the same kind, and importuned him with the warmest solicitations to renew their former correspondence, which he as often declined.
“While he tormented himself with guesses about why this unexpected change happened, he received information from England that, combined with what he had noticed in her way of writing, left him with little doubt about her fickleness and inconsistency. However, since he knew from experience that such information isn’t always reliable, he decided to find out the truth for himself: and for that reason, he immediately set off for London, traveling through Tyrol, Bavaria, Alsace, and Paris. Upon his arrival in England, he learned, to his great distress, that the information he received was completely accurate; and he felt indescribable sorrow to find someone with so many other noble and lovely qualities led into a mistake that inevitably ruined the entire plan they had devised for their happiness. She made several attempts, through letters and meetings, to explain her behavior and persuade him toward reconciliation; but since his honor was at stake, he remained unmoved by all her pleas and offers. Still, I have often heard him say that he couldn’t help but love her and cherish the memory of a person to whom he owed his good fortune, and whose flaws were outweighed by countless good traits. He frequently insisted on making amends; yet instead of agreeing to that idea, she often tried to impose even greater obligations on him and urged him passionately to resume their previous correspondence, which he repeatedly refused.”
“M— took this instance of the inconstancy of the sex so much to heart, that he had almost resolved for the future to keep clear of all engagements for life, and returned to Paris, in order to dissipate his anxiety, where he hired an apartment in one of the academies, in the exercises whereof he took singular delight. During his residence at this place, he had the good fortune to ingratiate himself with a great general, a descendant of one of the most ancient and illustrious families in France; having attracted his notice by some remarks he had written on Folard's Polybius, which were accidentally shown to that great man by one of his aides-de-camp, who was a particular friend of M—. The favour he had thus acquired was strengthened by his assiduities and attention. Upon his return to London, he sent some of Handel's newest compositions to the prince, who was particularly fond of that gentleman's productions, together with Clark's edition of Caesar; and, in the spring of the same year, before the French army took the field, he was honoured with a most obliging letter from the prince, inviting him to come over, if he wanted to see the operations of the campaign, and desiring he would give himself no trouble about his equipage.
“M— was so affected by the fickleness of women that he almost decided to avoid all lifelong commitments in the future. He returned to Paris to clear his mind, where he rented an apartment in one of the academies, which he found particularly enjoyable. During his time there, he was fortunate enough to win the favor of a great general, a descendant of one of the oldest and most distinguished families in France. He caught the general’s attention with some comments he had written on Folard's Polybius that one of the general's aides-de-camp, who was a close friend of M—, happened to show him. The support he gained was further solidified by his dedication and attentiveness. Upon returning to London, he sent some of Handel's latest compositions to the prince, who had a fondness for the composer’s works, along with Clark's edition of Caesar. In the spring of that same year, before the French army was deployed, he received a very kind letter from the prince, inviting him to visit if he wanted to observe the campaign operations and assuring him that he shouldn’t worry about his travel arrangements.”
“M— having still some remains of a military disposition, and this to be a more favourable opportunity than any he should ever meet with again, readily embraced the offer, and sacrificed the soft delights of love, which at that time he enjoyed without control, to an eager, laborious, and dangerous curiosity. In that and the following campaign, during which he was present at the siege of Philipsburgh, and several other actions, he enlarged his acquaintance among the French officers, especially those of the graver sort, who had a taste for books and literature; and the friendship and interest of those gentlemen were afterwards of singular service to him, though in an affair altogether foreign from their profession. He had all along made diligent inquiry into the trade and manufactures of the countries through which he had occasion to travel, more particularly those of Holland, England, and France; and, as he was well acquainted with the revenue and farms of this last kingdom, he saw with concern the great disadvantages under which our tobacco trade, the most considerable branch of our commerce with that people, was carried on; what inconsiderable returns were made to the planters, out of the low price given by the French company; and how much it was in the power of that company to reduce it still lower. M— had formed a scheme to remedy this evil, so far as it related to the national loss or gain, by not permitting the duty of one penny in the pound, old subsidy, to be drawn back, on tobacco, re-exported. He demonstrated to the ministry of that time, that so inconsiderable a duty could not in the least diminish the demand from abroad, which was the only circumstance to be apprehended, and that the yearly produce of that revenue would amount to one hundred and twenty thousand pounds, without one shilling additional expense to the public; but the ministry having the excise scheme then in contemplation, could think of no other till that should be tried; and that project having miscarried, he renewed his application, when they approved of his scheme in every particular, but discovered a surprising backwardness to carry it into execution.
“M— still having some remnants of a military mindset and realizing this was a better opportunity than any he might encounter again, eagerly accepted the offer and gave up the sweet pleasures of love, which he enjoyed freely at the time, for a driven, hard-working, and risky curiosity. During that campaign and the next, when he was present at the siege of Philipsburgh and several other battles, he expanded his connections among French officers, particularly those who were more serious and had an interest in books and literature. The friendships and influence of these gentlemen later proved to be particularly beneficial to him, although in a matter completely unrelated to their profession. He had consistently made careful inquiries into the trades and industries of the countries he traveled through, especially those of Holland, England, and France; and since he was well-informed about the revenues and economic activities of France, he was troubled by the significant disadvantages affecting our tobacco trade, the most important part of our commerce with them. He noted the meager returns made to the planters due to the low prices offered by the French company, and how that company had the power to further lower those prices. M— devised a plan to address this issue, concerning national gain or loss, by not allowing the duty of one penny per pound, an old subsidy, to be refunded on tobacco that was re-exported. He showed the government at the time that such a minor duty would not significantly reduce demand from abroad, which was the only concern, and that the annual revenue from this would amount to one hundred and twenty thousand pounds, without any additional cost to the public. However, the government was occupied with the excise scheme and could not consider anything else until that was tested; and after that project failed, he renewed his proposal, at which point they approved of his plan in every detail but showed a surprising reluctance to put it into action.”
“His expectations in this quarter being disappointed, he, by the interposition of his friends, presented a plan to the French company, in which he set forth the advantages that would accrue to themselves from fixing the price, and securing that sort of tobacco which best suited the taste of the public and their manufacture; and finally proposed to furnish them with any quantity, at the price which they paid in the port of London.
“Since his expectations for this quarter were unmet, he, with the help of his friends, presented a plan to the French company. In it, he outlined the benefits they would gain from setting a price and securing the type of tobacco that best matched public preference and their production. He ultimately offered to supply them with any amount at the price they paid in the port of London.”
“After some dispute, they agreed to this proposal, and contracted with him for fifteen thousand hogsheads a year, for which they obliged themselves to pay ready money, on its arrival in any one or more convenient ports in the south or western coasts of Great Britain that he should please to fix upon for that purpose. M— no sooner obtained this contract, than he immediately set out for America, in order to put it in execution; and, by way of companion, carried with him a little French abbe, a man of humour, wit, and learning, with whom he had been long acquainted, and for whom he had done many good offices.
“After some disagreement, they agreed to this proposal and signed a contract with him for fifteen thousand hogsheads a year. They committed to paying cash upon delivery at any convenient ports on the southern or western coasts of Great Britain that he chose for this purpose. As soon as he secured this contract, he immediately set off for America to fulfill it. As a travel companion, he took along a French abbe, who was funny, witty, and knowledgeable. He had known him for a long time and had helped him on many occasions.”
“On his arrival in Virginia, which opportunely happened at a time when all the gentlemen were assembled in the capital of that province, he published a memorial, representing the disadvantages under which their trade was carried on, the true method of redressing their own grievances in that respect, and proposing to contract with them for the yearly quantity of fifteen thousand hogsheads of such tobacco as was fit for the French market, at the price which he demonstrated to be considerably greater than that which they had formerly received. This remonstrance met with all the success and encouragement he could expect. The principal planters, seeing their own interest concerned, readily assented to the proposal, which, through their influence, was also relished by the rest; and the only difficulty that remained, related to the security for payment of the bills on the arrival of the tobacco in England, and to the time stipulated for the continuance of the contract.
“Upon his arrival in Virginia, which happened to be a perfect time when all the gentlemen were gathered in the capital, he published a notice outlining the issues their trade faced, the best way to address their grievances in that area, and he proposed to make a deal with them for a yearly amount of fifteen thousand hogsheads of tobacco that was suitable for the French market, at a price he showed to be significantly higher than what they had received before. This appeal was met with the success and support he hoped for. The main planters, recognizing their own interests, quickly agreed to the proposal, which was also favored by others due to their influence; the only remaining challenge was to secure payment for the bills upon the tobacco's arrival in England and to finalize the duration of the contract.”
“In order to remove these objections, Mr. M— returned to Europe, and found the French company of farmers disposed to agree to everything he desired for facilitating the execution of the contract, and perfectly well pleased with the sample which he had already sent; but his good friend the abbe, whom he had left behind him in America, by an unparalleled piece of treachery, found means to overturn the whole project. He secretly wrote a memorial to the company, importing, that he found, by experience, M— could afford to furnish them at a much lower price than that which they had agreed to give; and that, by being in possession of the contract for five years, as was intended according to the proposal, he would have the company so much in his power, that they must afterwards submit to any price he should please to impose; and that, if they thought him worth of such a trust, he would undertake to furnish them at an easier rate, in conjunction with some of the leading men in Virginia and Maryland, with whom, he said, he had already concerted measures for that purpose.
“To address these concerns, Mr. M— returned to Europe and discovered that the French group of farmers was willing to agree to everything he wanted to make the contract work, and they were very pleased with the sample he had already sent. However, his dear friend the abbe, whom he had left in America, through an unprecedented act of betrayal, managed to sabotage the entire project. He secretly wrote a letter to the company, claiming that he had learned from experience that M— could supply them at a much lower price than they had agreed upon. He argued that, since he would hold the contract for five years as intended in the proposal, he would have the company completely under his control, meaning they would have no choice but to accept any price he chose to set. He also suggested that if they believed he was trustworthy for such a role, he would provide them with a better rate alongside some leading figures in Virginia and Maryland, with whom he claimed to have already made arrangements for that purpose.”
“The company were so much alarmed at these insinuations, that they declined complying with Mr. M—'s demands until the abbe's return; and, though they afterwards used all their endeavours to persuade him to be concerned with that little traitor in his undertaking, by which he might still have been a very considerable gainer, he resisted all their solicitations, and plainly told them, in the abbe's presence, that he would never prostitute his own principles so far, as to enter into engagements of any kind with a person of his character, much less in a scheme that had a manifest tendency to lower the market price of tobacco in England.
“The company was so alarmed by these insinuations that they refused to meet Mr. M—'s demands until the abbe returned. Even though they later tried everything they could to convince him to partner with that little traitor in his venture, which could have made him quite a bit of money, he turned down all their requests and clearly told them, in the abbe's presence, that he would never compromise his principles by getting involved with someone like him, especially in a scheme that was clearly aimed at lowering the market price of tobacco in England.”
“Thus ended a project the most extensive, simple, and easy, and, as appeared by the trial made, the best calculated to raise an immense fortune of any that was ever undertaken or planned by a private person; a project, in the execution of which M— had the good of the public, and the glory of putting in a flourishing condition the valuable branch of our trade which gives employment to two great provinces and above two hundred sail of ships, much more at heart than his own private interest. It was reasonable to expect, that a man whose debts M— had paid more than once, whom he had obliged in many other respects, and whom he had carried with him at a very considerable expense, on this expedition, merely with a view of bettering his fortune, would have acted with common honesty, if not with gratitude; but such was the depravity of this little monster's heart, that, on his deathbed, he left a considerable fortune to mere strangers, with whom he had little or no connection, without the least thought of refunding the money advanced for him by M—, in order to prevent his rotting in a jail.
“Thus ended a project that was the most extensive, straightforward, and easy, and, as shown by the trial made, the best suited to create an immense fortune of any ever undertaken or planned by a private individual; a project in which M— cared about the public good and the honor of putting a vital part of our trade, which employs two large provinces and over two hundred ships, in a flourishing condition far more than his own private interest. It was reasonable to expect that a man whose debts M— had paid more than once, whom he had helped in many other ways, and whom he had taken with him at a significant expense on this expedition, purely to improve his fortune, would have acted with basic honesty, if not with gratitude; but such was the depravity of this little monster's heart that, on his deathbed, he left a substantial fortune to complete strangers, with whom he had little or no connection, without the slightest thought of repaying the money M— had advanced for him to prevent him from rotting in jail.”
“When M— had once obtained a command of money, he, by his knowledge in several branches of trade, as well as by the assistance of some intelligent friends at Paris and London, found means to employ it to very good purpose; and had he been a man of that selfish disposition, which too much prevails in the world, he might have been at this day master of a very ample fortune; but his ear was never deaf to the voice of distress, nor his beneficent heart shut against the calamities of his fellow-creatures. He was even ingenious in contriving the most delicate methods of relieving modest indigence, and, by his industrious benevolence, often anticipated the requests of misery.
“When M— once had control of money, he used his knowledge in various trades, along with help from some smart friends in Paris and London, to make it work really well for him. If he had been the selfish type, which is all too common in the world, he could have had a substantial fortune by now. However, he was always compassionate to those in need, and his generous heart was open to the hardships of others. He even came up with creative ways to help those in quiet need and, through his hardworking kindness, often fulfilled the needs of those suffering before they even had to ask.”
“I could relate a number of examples to illustrate my assertions, in some of which you would perceive the most disinterested generosity; but such a detail would trespass too much upon your time, and I do not pretend to dwell upon every minute circumstance of his conduct. Let it suffice to say, that, upon the declaration of war in Spain, he gave up all his commercial schemes, and called in his money from all quarters, with a view of sitting down, for the rest of his life, contented with what he had got, and restraining his liberalities to what he could spare from his yearly income. This was a very prudential resolution, could he have kept it; but, upon the breaking out of the war, he could not without concern see many gentlemen of merit, who had been recommended to him, disappointed of commissions, merely for want of money to satisfy the expectations of the commission-brokers of that time; and therefore launched out considerable sums for them on their bare notes, great part whereof was lost by the death of some in the unfortunate expedition to the West Indies. He at length, after many other actions of the like nature, from motives of pure humanity, love of justice, and abhorrence of oppression, embarked in a cause, every way the most important that ever came under the discussion of the courts of law in these kingdoms; whether it be considered in relation to the extraordinary nature of the case, or the immense property of no less than fifty thousand pounds a year, and three peerages that depended upon it.
“I could share several examples to back up my claims, some of which would show the most selfless generosity; but going into such detail would take up too much of your time, and I don’t intend to dwell on every single aspect of his actions. It’s enough to say that when war broke out in Spain, he abandoned all his business ventures and pulled together his finances with the intention of living the rest of his life content with what he had and limiting his generosity to what he could spare from his annual income. This was a sensible choice, had he been able to stick to it; however, when the war began, he couldn’t bear to see many deserving gentlemen, whom he had been recommended, miss out on opportunities simply due to lack of funds to meet the demands of the commission-brokers at that time; thus, he ended up lending significant amounts on their bare notes, a large portion of which was lost when some perished in the unfortunate expedition to the West Indies. Eventually, after many other similar actions motivated by pure humanity, a love of justice, and a hatred of oppression, he became involved in a cause that was, in every way, the most significant ever to be debated in the courts of law in these kingdoms; whether considered in relation to the unique nature of the case or the enormous property of no less than fifty thousand pounds a year and three peerages that relied on it.”
“In the year 1740, the brave admiral who at that time commanded his majesty's fleet in the West Indies, among the other transactions of his squadron transmitted to the duke of Newcastle, mentioned a young man, who, though in the capacity of a common sailor on board one of the ships under his command, laid claim to the estate and titles of the earl of A—. These pretensions were no sooner communicated in the public papers, than they became the subject of conversation in all companies; and the person whom they chiefly affected, being alarmed at the appearance of a competitor, though at such a distance, began to put himself in motion, and take all the precautions which he thought necessary to defeat the endeavour of the young upstart. Indeed, the early intelligence he received of Mr. A—'s making himself known in the West Indies, furnished him with numberless advantages over that unhappy young gentleman; for, being in possession of a splendid fortune, and lord of many manors in the neighbourhood of the very place where the claimant was born, he knew all the witnesses who could give the most material evidence of his legitimacy; and, if his probity did not restrain him, had, by his power and influence, sufficient opportunity and means of applying to the passions and interests of the witnesses, to silence many, and gain over others to his side; while his competitor, by an absence of fifteen or sixteen years from his native country, the want of education and friends, together with his present helpless situation, was rendered absolutely incapable of taking any step for his own advantage. And although his worthy uncle's conspicuous virtue, and religious regard for justice and truth, might possibly be an unconquerable restraint to his taking any undue advantages, yet the consciences of that huge army of emissaries he kept in pay were not altogether so very tender and scrupulous. This much, however, may be said, without derogation from, or impeachment of, the noble earl's nice virtue and honour, that he took care to compromise all differences with the other branches of the family, whose interests were, in this affair, connected with his own, by sharing the estate with them, and also retained most of the eminent counsel within the bar of both kingdoms against this formidable bastard, before any suit was instituted by him.
“In 1740, the brave admiral who was then in charge of His Majesty's fleet in the West Indies shared with the Duke of Newcastle some updates about his squadron, including a young man who, despite being just a common sailor on one of his ships, claimed the estate and titles of the Earl of A—. As soon as these claims were published in the papers, they became a hot topic of conversation everywhere. The person most affected by these claims became alarmed at the thought of a rival, even from afar, and started taking steps to protect his interests and thwart the efforts of the young upstart. In fact, the early news he got about Mr. A— making waves in the West Indies gave him countless advantages over that unfortunate young man; being wealthy and owning several estates near the very place where the claimant was born, he knew all the witnesses who could provide important evidence of his legitimacy. If it weren’t for his integrity, he had enough power and influence to sway the witnesses by appealing to their passions and interests, silencing many and winning over others to his side. Meanwhile, his rival, after being away from his home country for fifteen or sixteen years, lacking education and connections, and in a desperate situation, was completely unable to do anything to help himself. Although his honorable uncle's strong sense of virtue and commitment to justice and truth might have prevented him from taking any unfair advantages, the consciences of the vast army of agents he employed were not quite so sensitive and principled. Nevertheless, it can be said, without diminishing or questioning the noble earl's integrity and honor, that he worked to resolve any disputes with other branches of the family who had stakes in this matter by sharing the estate with them and securing most of the top legal counsel from both kingdoms against this formidable claimant before he could even file a suit.”
“While he was thus entrenching himself against the attack of a poor forlorn youth, at the distance of fifteen hundred leagues, continually exposed to the dangers of the sea, the war, and an unhealthy climate, Mr. M—, in the common course of conversation, chanced to ask some questions relating to this romantic pretender, of one H—, who was at that time the present Lord A—'s chief agent. This man, when pressed, could not help owning that the late Lord A— actually left a son, who had been spirited away into America soon after his father's death, but said he did not know whether this was the same person. This information could not fail to make an impression on the humanity of Mr. M—, who, being acquainted with the genius of the wicked party who had possessed themselves of this unhappy young man's estate and honours, expressed no small anxiety and apprehension lest they should take him off by some means or other; and, even then, seemed disposed to contribute towards the support of the friendless orphan, and to inquire more circumstantially into the nature of his claim. In the meantime his occasions called him to France, and during his absence Mr. A— arrived in London in the month of October, 174l.”
“While he was busy protecting himself against the attack of a poor, lost young man, fifteen hundred leagues away and constantly exposed to the dangers of the sea, war, and an unhealthy climate, Mr. M—, in the usual course of conversation, happened to ask some questions about this romantic pretender, a man named H—, who was at that time the chief agent for the current Lord A—. When pressed, this man couldn’t help but admit that the late Lord A— had indeed left a son, who had been taken away to America shortly after his father’s death, but he said he didn’t know if this was the same person. This information undoubtedly affected Mr. M—'s compassion, and knowing the nature of the wicked group that had taken over this unfortunate young man's estate and titles, he expressed considerable worry and concern that they might eliminate him somehow. Even then, he seemed ready to help support the friendless orphan and to look into the details of his claim further. In the meantime, he had to go to France, and during his absence, Mr. A— arrived in London in October 1741.”
Here the clergyman was interrupted by Peregrine, who said there was something so extraordinary, not to call it improbable, in the account he had heard of the young gentleman's being sent into exile, that he would look upon himself as infinitely obliged to the doctor, if he would favour him with a true representation of that transaction, as well as of the manner in which he arrived and was known at the Island of Jamaica.
Here the clergyman was interrupted by Peregrine, who said there was something so unusual, if not unbelievable, about the story he had heard of the young man being exiled, that he would consider himself very grateful to the doctor if he would share a true account of that event, as well as how he got to and became known in the Island of Jamaica.
The parson, in compliance with our hero's request, taking up the story from the beginning, “Mr. A—,” said he, “is the son of Arthur, late lord baron of A—, by his wife Mary S—, natural daughter to John, duke of B— and N—, whom he publicly married on the 21st day of July, 1706, contrary to the inclination of his mother, and all his other relations, particularly of Arthur, late earl of A—, who bore an implacable enmity to the duke her father, and, for that reason, did all that lay in his power to traverse the marriage; but, finding his endeavours ineffectual, he was so much offended, that he would never be perfectly reconciled to Lord A—, though he was his presumptive heir. After their nuptials, they cohabited together in England for the space of two or three years, during which she miscarried more than once; and he being a man of levity, and an extravagant disposition, not only squandered away all that he had received of his wife's fortune, but also contracted many considerable debts, which obliged him to make a precipitate retreat into Ireland, leaving his lady behind him in the house with his mother and sister, who, having also been averse to the match, had always looked upon her with eyes of disgust.
The parson, following our hero's request, began the story from the start. “Mr. A—,” he said, “is the son of Arthur, the late lord baron of A—, and his wife Mary S—, who was the illegitimate daughter of John, duke of B— and N—. They publicly married on July 21, 1706, against the wishes of his mother and all his other relatives, especially Arthur, the late earl of A—, who held a deep grudge against the duke, her father. He did everything he could to prevent the marriage, but when his efforts failed, he was so upset that he could never fully reconcile with Lord A—, even though he was his likely heir. After their wedding, they lived together in England for two or three years, during which time she suffered multiple miscarriages. He, being a frivolous man with a tendency to be extravagant, not only wasted his wife’s fortune but also racked up significant debts, which forced him to make a hasty escape to Ireland, leaving his wife behind at home with his mother and sister, who had also opposed the marriage and always viewed her with disdain.”
“It was not likely that harmony should long subsist in this family, especially as Lady A— was a woman of a lofty spirit, who could not tamely bear insults and ill-usage from persons who, she had reason to believe, were her enemies at heart. Accordingly, a misunderstanding soon happened among them, which was fomented by the malice of one of her sisters-in-law. Divers scandalous reports of her misconduct, to which the empty pretensions of a vain wretched coxcomb, who was made use of as an infamous tool for that purpose, gave a colourable pretext, were trumped up, and transmitted, with many false and aggravating circumstances, to her husband in Ireland; who, being a giddy, unthinking man, was so much incensed at these insinuations, that, in the first transports of his passion, he sent to his mother a power of attorney, that she might sue for a divorce in his behalf. A libel was thereupon exhibited, containing many scandalous allegations, void of any real foundation in truth; but being unsupported by any manner of proof, it was at length dismissed with costs, after it had depended upwards of two years.
“It was unlikely that peace would last long in this family, especially since Lady A— was a strong-willed woman who couldn’t quietly tolerate insults and mistreatment from people she believed were her true enemies. As a result, a misunderstanding soon arose among them, fueled by the spite of one of her sisters-in-law. Various scandalous rumors about her behavior, which the empty claims of a vain, miserable fool, used as a despicable pawn in this situation, provided a dubious excuse for, were made up and sent, with many false and exaggerated details, to her husband in Ireland. He was a careless, thoughtless man, and these insinuations infuriated him so much that, in a fit of anger, he authorized his mother to file for divorce on his behalf. A lawsuit was subsequently filed, filled with many scandalous allegations lacking any real basis in truth; but since it was unsupported by any evidence, it was eventually dismissed with costs after more than two years.”
“Lord A— finding himself abused by the misrepresentations of his mother and sister, discovered an inclination to be reconciled to his lady. In consequence of which, she was sent over to Dublin by her father, to the care of a gentleman in that city; in whose house she was received by her husband with all the demonstrations of love and esteem. From thence he conducted her to his lodgings, and thence to his country house, where she had the misfortune to suffer a miscarriage, through fear and resentment of my lord's behaviour, which was often brutal and indecent. From the country they removed to Dublin, about the latter end of July, or beginning of August, 1714, where they had not long continued, when her ladyship was known to be again with child.
“Lord A—, feeling wronged by the false claims of his mother and sister, found himself wanting to make up with his wife. As a result, her father sent her to Dublin to stay with a gentleman there; her husband welcomed her into his home with all the signs of love and respect. From there, he took her to his place, and then to his country house, where she unfortunately suffered a miscarriage due to fear and anger over my lord's often cruel and disrespectful behavior. They moved from the countryside to Dublin around the end of July or beginning of August, 1714, and not long after, it was known that she was pregnant again.”
“Lord A— and his issue being next in remainder to the honours and estate of Arthur, earl of A—, was extremely solicitous to have a son; and, warned by the frequent miscarriages of his lady, resolved to curb the natural impatience and rusticity of his disposition, that she might not, as formerly, suffer by his outrageous conduct. He accordingly cherished her with uncommon tenderness and care; and her pregnancy being pretty far advanced, conducted her to his country seat, where she was delivered of Mr. A—, about the latter end of April, or beginning of May; for none of the witnesses have been able, at this distance, with absolute certainty to fix the precise time of his birth, and there was no register kept in the parish. As an additional misfortune, no gentleman of fashion lived in that parish; nor did those who lived at any considerable distance care to cultivate an acquaintance with a man of Lord A—'s strange conduct.
“Lord A— and his heirs being next in line for the titles and estate of Arthur, Earl of A—, was very eager to have a son. Given his lady's past pregnancy issues, he decided to control his natural impatience and rough nature, so she wouldn’t suffer from his previous outrageous behavior. He treated her with exceptional tenderness and care, and as her pregnancy progressed, he took her to his country house, where she gave birth to Mr. A— at the end of April or the beginning of May. None of the witnesses could confirm the exact time of his birth with certainty, and there was no record kept in the parish. To make matters worse, there were no fashionable gentlemen living in that parish, and those who lived nearby were not inclined to befriend someone with Lord A—’s unusual behavior.”
“Be that as it will, the occasion was celebrated by his lordship's tenants and dependents upon the spot, and in the neighbouring town of New-R—, by bonfires, illuminations, and other rejoicings; which have made such an impression upon the minds of the people, that in the place where they happened, and the contiguous parishes, several hundred persons have already declared their knowledge and remembrance of this event, in spite of the great power of the claimant's adversary in that quarter, and the great pains and indirect methods taken by his numberless agents and emissaries, as well as by those who are interested with him in the event of the suit, to corrupt and suppress the evidence.
“Nonetheless, the occasion was celebrated by his lordship's tenants and dependents on the spot, and in the nearby town of New-R—, with bonfires, lights, and other festivities. These celebrations made such a lasting impression on the people that in the very place where they took place, along with the surrounding parishes, several hundred individuals have already shared their knowledge and memory of this event, despite the significant influence of the claimant's opponent in that area and the considerable efforts and underhanded tactics used by his countless agents and representatives, as well as by those who have a stake in the outcome of the lawsuit, to distort and hide the truth.
“Lord A—, after the birth of his son, who was sent to nurse in the neighbourhood, according to the custom of the country, where people of the highest distinction put their children out to nurse into farmhouses and cabins, lived in harmony with his lady for the space of two years. But having, by his folly and extravagance, reduced himself to great difficulties, he demanded the remainder of her fortune from her father, the duke of B—, who absolutely refused to part with a shilling until a proper settlement should be made on his daughter, which, by that time, he had put out of his own power to make, by his folly and extravagance.
“Lord A—, after the birth of his son, who was sent to a nearby wet nurse, as was customary in the country where high-ranking people had their children nursed in farmhouses and cottages, lived happily with his wife for two years. However, due to his foolishness and wastefulness, he got himself into serious financial trouble and asked her father, the duke of B—, for the rest of her fortune. The duke flatly refused to part with a single penny until a proper settlement was made for his daughter, which by that time he could no longer provide due to his own foolishness and extravagance.”
“As her ladyship, by her endeavours to reform the economy of her house, had incurred the displeasure of some idle profligate fellows, who had fastened themselves upon her husband, and helped to consume his substance, they seized this opportunity of the duke's refusal; and, in order to be revenged upon the innocent lady, persuaded Lord A—, that the only means of extracting money from his grace, would be to turn her away, on pretence of infidelity to his bed, for which they hinted there was but too much foundation. At their suggestions, a most infamous plan was projected; in the execution of which, one P—, a poor, unbred, simple country booby, whom they had decoyed into a snare, lost one of his ears, and the injured lady retired that same day to New-R—, where she continued several years. She did not, however, leave the house, without struggling hard to carry her child along with her; but far from enjoying such indulgence, strict orders were given, that the boy should not, for the future, be brought within her sight. This base, inhuman treatment, instead of answering the end proposed, produced such a contrary effect, that the duke of B—, by a codicil to his will, in which he reflects upon Lord A—'s evil temper, directed his executors to pay to his daughter an annuity of one hundred pounds, while her lord and she should continue to live separate; and this allowance was to cease on Lord A—'s death.
“As her ladyship worked to improve the management of her household, she drew the ire of some lazy, irresponsible men who had attached themselves to her husband and helped to squander his wealth. They took advantage of the duke's refusal and, seeking revenge on the innocent lady, convinced Lord A— that the only way to get money from his grace would be to dismiss her on the grounds of infidelity, suggesting there was more truth to it than anyone wanted to admit. At their suggestion, a truly wicked plan was devised; during its execution, a man named P—, a naive, unsophisticated country fool they had lured into a trap, lost one of his ears, and the wronged lady left for New-R— that same day, where she stayed for several years. However, she did not leave without a fight to take her child with her; but rather than granting her that kindness, strict orders were given that the boy should never be allowed to see her again. This cruel, inhumane treatment, instead of achieving its intended goal, had the opposite effect, as the duke of B—, in a codicil to his will, which criticized Lord A—'s bad temper, instructed his executors to pay his daughter an annuity of one hundred pounds for as long as she and her lord remained separated, which would end upon Lord A—'s death."
“While she remained in this solitary situation, the child was universally known and received as the legitimate son and heir of her lord, whose affection for the boy was so conspicuous, that, in the midst of his own necessities, he never failed to maintain him in the dress and equipage of a young nobleman. In the course of his infancy, his father having often changed his place of residence, the child was put under the instructions of a great many different schoolmasters, so that he was perfectly well known in a great many different parts of the kingdom; and his mother seized all opportunities, which were but rare, on account of his father's orders to the contrary, of seeing and giving him proofs of her maternal tenderness, until she set out for England, after having been long in a declining state of health, by a paralytical disorder; upon the consequence of which, such dependence was placed by her inconsiderate husband, who was by this time reduced to extreme poverty, that he actually married a woman whom he had long kept as a mistress. This creature no sooner understood that Lady A— was departed from Ireland, than she openly avowed her marriage, and went about publicly with Lord A—, visiting his acquaintances in the character of his wife.
“While she was in this lonely situation, the child was widely recognized and accepted as the legitimate son and heir of her lord, whose fondness for the boy was so obvious that, despite his own difficulties, he always ensured the child was dressed and equipped like a young nobleman. Throughout his early years, as his father frequently moved, the child had many different tutors, so he became well-known in various parts of the kingdom; and his mother took every rare chance—despite his father's orders to the contrary—to see him and show her maternal affection, until she left for England after a long struggle with a debilitating illness. This situation caused such dependence on her thoughtless husband, who had fallen into extreme poverty by this time, that he actually married a woman he had long kept as a mistress. As soon as this woman learned that Lady A— had left Ireland, she openly declared her marriage and began publicly accompanying Lord A—, visiting his friends as his wife.”
“From this era may be dated the beginning of Mr. A—'s misfortune. This artful woman, who had formerly treated the child with an appearance of fondness, in order to ingratiate herself with the father, now looking upon herself as sufficiently established in the family, thought it was high time to alter her behaviour with regard to the unfortunate boy; and accordingly, for obvious reasons, employed a thousand artifices to alienate the heart of the weak father from his unhappy offspring. Yet, notwithstanding all her insinuations, nature still maintained her influence in his heart; and though she often found means to irritate him by artful and malicious accusations, his resentment never extended farther than fatherly correction. She would have found it impossible to accomplish his ruin, had not her efforts been reinforced by a new auxiliary, who was no other than his uncle, the present usurper of his title and estate; yet even this confederacy was overawed, in some measure, by the fear of alarming the unfortunate mother, until her distemper increased to a most deplorable degree of the dead palsy, and the death of her father had reduced her to a most forlorn and abject state of distress. Then they ventured upon the execution of their projects; and, though their aims were widely different, concurred in their endeavours to remove the hapless boy, as the common obstacle to both.
“From this time, we can trace the start of Mr. A—'s misfortune. This manipulative woman, who had once pretended to care for the child to win over the father, now feeling secure in her position within the family, decided it was time to change her behavior towards the unfortunate boy. For obvious reasons, she resorted to countless tricks to drive a wedge between the weak father and his miserable child. However, despite all her insinuations, nature still held sway in his heart; and although she frequently managed to provoke him with cunning and spiteful accusations, his anger never went beyond fatherly discipline. She would have struggled to achieve his downfall if it weren't for a new ally, none other than his uncle, the current usurper of his title and estate. Yet even this alliance was somewhat restrained by the fear of upsetting the unfortunate mother until her condition worsened to a tragic state of paralysis, and the death of her father left her in a pitiful and helpless situation. Then they dared to put their plans into action, and although their goals were quite different, they united in their efforts to get rid of the unfortunate boy, as he was a common obstacle to both.”
“Lord A— who, as I have already observed, was a man of weak intellects, and utterly void of any fixed principle of action, being by this time reduced to such a pitch of misery, that he was often obliged to pawn his wearing apparel in order to procure the common necessaries of life; and having no other fund remaining, with which he could relieve his present necessities, except a sale of the reversion of the A— estate, to which the nonage of his son was an effectual bar, he was advised by his virtuous brother, and the rest of his counsellors, to surmount this difficulty, by secreting his son, and spreading a report of his death. This honest project he the more readily embraced, because he knew that no act of his could frustrate the child's succession. Accordingly, the boy was removed from the school at which he was then boarded, to the house of one K—, an agent and accomplice of the present earl of A—, where he was kept for several months closely confined; and, in the meantime, it was industriously reported that he was dead.
“Lord A—, as I've already mentioned, was not very bright and had no real principles to guide him. By this point, he was so miserable that he often had to pawn his clothes just to afford basic necessities. With no other way to cover his immediate needs except selling the future rights to the A— estate—blocked by his son being a minor—he was advised by his virtuous brother and other advisors to solve this issue by hiding his son and spreading rumors of his death. He was more than willing to go along with this plan because he knew that nothing he did could prevent the child from inheriting. So, they took the boy out of the school where he was staying and sent him to the home of one K—, an agent and accomplice of the current Earl of A—, where he was kept confined for several months, while they spread the word that he had died.”
“This previous measure being taken, Lord A— published advertisements in the gazettes, offering reversions of the A— estate to sale; and emissaries of various kinds were employed to inveigle such as were ignorant of the nature of the settlement of these estates, or strangers to the affairs of his family. Some people, imposed upon by the report of the child's death, were drawn in to purchase, thinking themselves safe in the concurrence of his lordship's brother, upon presumption that he was next in remainder to the succession; others, tempted by the smallness of the price, which rarely exceeded half a year's purchase, as appears by many deeds, though they doubted the truth of the boy's being dead, ran small risks, on the contingency of his dying before he should be of age, or in hopes of his being prevailed upon to confirm the grants of his father; and many more were treating with him on the same notions, when their transactions were suddenly interrupted, and the scheme of raising more money for the present, defeated by the unexpected appearance of the boy, who, being naturally sprightly and impatient of restraint, had found means to break from his confinement, and wandered up and down the streets of Dublin, avoiding his father's house, and choosing to encounter all sorts of distress, rather than subject himself again to the cruelty and malice of the woman who supplied his mother's place. Thus debarred his father's protection, and destitute of any fixed habitation, he herded with all the loose, idle, and disorderly youths in Dublin, skulking chiefly about the college, several members and students of which, taking pity on his misfortunes, supplied him at different times with clothes and money. In this unsettled and uncomfortable way of life did he remain, from the year 1725 to the latter end of November, 1727; at which time his father died, so miserably poor, that he was actually buried at the public expense.
“After taking this previous step, Lord A— placed advertisements in local newspapers, offering the A— estate for sale. He hired various agents to deceive those who were unaware of the estate's settlement or unfamiliar with his family's affairs. Some people, misled by the rumors of the child's death, were convinced to buy, believing they were safe because his lordship's brother was presumed to be next in line for the inheritance. Others, attracted by the low price—often not more than half a year’s worth of rent, as shown in many deeds—doubted the truth of the boy’s death but took small risks, hoping he would pass away before reaching adulthood or would agree to confirm his father's grants. Many more were negotiating with him on similar terms when their dealings were suddenly interrupted by the unexpected return of the boy, who, being naturally lively and unwilling to be confined, managed to escape his captivity and wandered the streets of Dublin, avoiding his father's house and facing all kinds of hardships rather than subject himself again to the cruelty of the woman who replaced his mother. Deprived of his father’s protection and without a permanent home, he associated with all the loose, idle, and disorderly youths in Dublin, mostly hanging around the college, where several members and students, feeling sorry for his misfortunes, helped him with clothes and money at different times. He lived in this unsettled and uncomfortable way from 1725 until late November 1727, when his father died in such poverty that he was actually buried at public expense.”
“This unfortunate nobleman was no sooner dead, than his brother Richard, now earl of A—, taking advantage of the nonage and helpless situation of his nephew, seized upon all the papers of the defunct, and afterwards usurped the title of Lord A—, to the surprise of the servants, and others who were acquainted with the affairs of the family. This usurpation, bold as it was, produced no other effect than that of his being insulted by the populace as he went through the streets, and the refusal of the king-at-arms to enrol the certificate of his brother's having died without issue. The first of these inconveniences he bore without any sense of shame, though not without repining, conscious that it would gradually vanish with the novelty of his invasion; and as to the last, he conquered it by means well known and obvious.
“This unfortunate nobleman had barely died when his brother Richard, now the Earl of A—, took advantage of his nephew’s youth and helplessness. He grabbed all the papers of the deceased and then claimed the title of Lord A—, shocking the servants and others who knew the family's affairs. This bold usurpation only led to him being ridiculed by the public as he walked through the streets, and the king-at-arms refused to record the certificate of his brother’s death without heirs. He handled the first insult without much shame, though he complained about it, knowing it would eventually fade as people got used to his takeover. As for the second issue, he dealt with it through well-known and obvious means.”
“Nor will it seem strange, that he should thus invade the rights of an orphan with impunity, if people will consider, that the late Lord A— had not only squandered away his fortune with the most ridiculous extravagance, but also associated himself with low company, so that he was little known, and less regarded, by persons of any rank and figure in life; and his child, of consequence, debarred of the advantages which might have accrued from valuable connections. And though it was universally known, that Lady A— had a son in Ireland, such was the obscurity in which the father had lived, during the last years of his life, that few of the nobility could be supposed to be acquainted with the particular circumstances of a transaction in which they had no concern, and which had happened at the distance of twelve years before the date of this usurpation. Moreover, as their first information was no other than common fame, the public clamour occasioned by the separation might inspire such as were strangers to the family affairs with a mistaken notion of the child's having been born about or after the time of that event. The hurry and bustle occasioned by the arrival of the lord-lieutenant about this period, the reports industriously propagated of the claimant's death, the obscurity and concealment in which the boy was obliged to live, in order to elude the wicked attempts of his uncle, might also contribute to his peaceable enjoyment of an empty title. And lastly, Lord Chancellor W—, whose immediate province it was to issue writs for parliament, was an utter stranger in Ireland, unacquainted with the descents of families, and consequently did not examine farther than the certificate enrolled in the books of the king-at-arms. Over and above these circumstances, which naturally account for the success of the imposture, it may be observed, that the hapless youth had not one relation alive, on the side of his father, whose interest it was not to forward or connive at his destruction; that his grandfather, the duke of B—, was dead; and that his mother was then in England, in a forlorn, destitute, dying condition, secreted from the world, and even from her own relations, by her woman Mary H—, who had a particular interest to secrete her, and altogether dependent upon a miserable and precarious allowance from the duchess of B—, to whose caprice she was moreover a most wretched slave.
"Nor will it seem strange that he could invade the rights of an orphan without consequence if people consider that the late Lord A— not only wasted his fortune on ridiculous extravagance but also associated with low company, making him largely unknown and less respected by those of any rank or status; thus his child was deprived of the advantages that might have come from valuable connections. And although it was commonly known that Lady A— had a son in Ireland, the obscurity in which the father lived during the last years of his life meant that few in the nobility could be expected to know the specific details of a situation they had no stake in, which occurred twelve years before this usurpation. Furthermore, since their only information came from public rumor, the noise caused by the separation might lead outsiders to mistakenly believe that the child had been born around or after that time. The commotion created by the arrival of the lord-lieutenant around this time, the rumors spread about the claimant's death, and the obscurity in which the boy had to live to escape his uncle's malicious attempts may have also allowed him to peacefully enjoy an empty title. Lastly, Lord Chancellor W—, whose responsibility it was to issue writs for parliament, was a complete outsider in Ireland, unfamiliar with family lineages, and therefore did not look beyond the certificate recorded in the king-at-arms' books. Besides these factors, which naturally explain the success of the deception, it's worth noting that the unfortunate young man had no living relatives on his father's side who would not want to promote or overlook his destruction; his grandfather, the duke of B—, was dead; and his mother was then in England, in a forlorn, destitute, dying state, hidden from the world and even from her own family by her servant Mary H—, who had a vested interest in keeping her secret and was entirely dependent on a meager and precarious allowance from the duchess of B—, to whose whims she was a miserable slave."
“Notwithstanding these concurring circumstances in favour of the usurper, he did not think himself secure while the orphan had any chance of finding a friend who would undertake his cause; and therefore laid a plan for his being kidnapped, and sent to America as a slave. His coadjutor in this inhuman scheme was a person who carried on the trade of transporting servants to our plantations, and was deeply interested on this occasion, having, for a mere trifle, purchased of the late Lord A—, the reversion of a considerable part of the A— estate, which shameful bargain was confirmed by the brother, but could never take place, unless the boy could be effectually removed.
“Despite the circumstances that seemed to benefit the usurper, he didn’t feel safe as long as the orphan stood a chance of finding someone to support him. So, he devised a plan to have the boy kidnapped and shipped to America as a slave. His accomplice in this cruel plot was someone who was in the business of transporting laborers to our plantations and had a significant stake in this situation. He had bought a large portion of the A— estate from the late Lord A— for a pittance, a disgraceful deal that was approved by the brother but could never be finalized unless the boy was successfully eliminated.”
“Everything being settled with this auxiliary, several ruffians were employed in search of the unhappy victim; and the first attempt that was made upon him, in which his uncle personally assisted, happening near one of the great markets of the city of Dublin, an honest butcher, with the assistance of his neighbours, rescued him by force from their cruel hands. This, however, was but a short respite; for, though warned by this adventure, the boy seldom crept out of his lurking-places, without the most cautious circumspection, he was, in March, 1727, discovered by the diligence of his persecutors, and forcibly dragged on board of a ship bound for Newcastle, on Delaware river in America, where he was sold as a slave, and kept to hard labour, much above his age or strength, for the space of thirteen years, during which he was transferred from one person to another.
“After everything was arranged with this ally, several thugs were sent to find the unfortunate victim; during the first attempt on him, which his uncle personally helped with, an honest butcher, along with his neighbors, rescued him from their cruel grasp near one of the main markets in Dublin. However, this was just a brief reprieve; although the boy was cautious after this incident and rarely ventured out of his hiding spots without extreme care, in March 1727, he was found by his pursuers and forcibly taken aboard a ship bound for Newcastle on the Delaware River in America, where he was sold into slavery and forced to work hard, well beyond his age or strength, for thirteen years, during which time he was passed from one owner to another.”
“While he remained in this servile situation, he often mentioned, to those in whom he thought such confidence might be placed, the circumstances of his birth and title, together with the manner of his being exiled from his native country, although, in this particular, he neglected a caution which he had received in his passage, importing that such a discovery would cost him his life. Meanwhile the usurper quietly enjoyed his right; and to those who questioned him about his brother's son, constantly replied, that the boy had been dead for several years. And Arthur, earl of A—, dying in April 1737, he, upon pretence of being next heir, succeeded to the honours and estate of that nobleman.
“While he was stuck in this lowly position, he often told those he trusted about his birth and title, along with how he was exiled from his home country, even though he ignored a warning he had received during his journey that revealing this information could cost him his life. Meanwhile, the usurper continued to enjoy his position; when people asked him about his brother's son, he always claimed that the boy had been dead for several years. And when Arthur, earl of A—, died in April 1737, the usurper used the excuse of being the next heir to take over the honors and estate of that nobleman.”
“The term of the nephew's bondage, which had been lengthened out beyond the usual time, on account of his repeated attempts to escape, being expired in the year 1739, he hired himself as a common sailor in a trading vessel bound to Jamaica; and there, being entered on board of one of his majesty's ships under the command of Admiral Vernon, openly declared his parentage and pretensions. This extraordinary claim, which made a great noise in the fleet, reaching the ears of one Lieutenant S—, nearly related to the usurper's Irish wife, he believed the young gentleman to be an impostor; and, thinking it was incumbent on him to discover the cheat, he went on board the ship to which the claimant belonged, and, having heard the account which he gave of himself, was, notwithstanding his prepossessions, convinced of the truth of what he alleged. On his return to his own ship, he chanced to mention this extraordinary affair upon the quarter-deck, in the hearing of Mr. B—, one of the midshipmen, who had formerly been at school with Mr. A—. This young gentleman not only told the lieutenant, that he had been school-fellow with Lord A—'s son, but also declared that he should know him again, if not greatly altered, as he still retained a perfect idea of his countenance.
“The nephew's time of servitude, which had been extended beyond the usual period due to his repeated escape attempts, came to an end in 1739. He joined a trading ship as a common sailor headed for Jamaica, and there, he was assigned to one of the king's ships under Admiral Vernon's command, where he openly revealed his background and claims. This bold declaration caused quite a stir in the fleet and caught the attention of Lieutenant S—, who was related to the usurper's Irish wife. He suspected the young man was a fraud and felt it was his duty to expose him, so he went aboard the claimant's ship. After hearing the man's story, despite his initial doubts, he became convinced of its truth. When he returned to his ship, he happened to mention this remarkable situation on the quarter-deck, where Mr. B—, a midshipman who had attended school with Mr. A—, overheard him. This young man not only informed the lieutenant that he had been classmates with Lord A—'s son, but also asserted that he would recognize him again if he hadn’t changed much, as he still had a clear memory of his face.”
“Upon this intimation, the lieutenant proposed that the experiment should be tried; and went with the midshipman on board the ship that the claimant was on, for that purpose. After all the sailors had been assembled upon deck, Mr. B—, casting his eyes around, immediately distinguished Mr. A— in the crowd, and, laying his hand on his shoulder, 'This is the man,' said he; affirming, at the same time, that, while he continued at school with him, the claimant was reputed and respected as Lord A—'s son and heir, and maintained in all respects suitable to the dignity of his rank. Nay, he was, in like manner, recognised by several other persons in the fleet, who had known him in his infancy.
“After receiving this notification, the lieutenant suggested that they should try the experiment and went with the midshipman to the ship where the claimant was located for this purpose. Once all the sailors were gathered on deck, Mr. B— looked around and immediately spotted Mr. A— in the crowd. Placing his hand on his shoulder, he said, 'This is the man,' affirming at the same time that while they were both in school, the claimant was known and respected as Lord A—'s son and heir, and was treated in every way appropriate to his status. Moreover, he was also recognized by several other members of the fleet who had known him as a child.
“These things being reported to the admiral, he generously ordered him to be supplied with necessaries, and treated like a gentleman; and, in his next despatches, transmitted an account of the affair to the duke of Newcastle, among the other transactions of the fleet.
“These things were reported to the admiral, who kindly ordered that he be provided with supplies and treated with respect; and in his next reports, he included an account of the incident to the Duke of Newcastle, along with the other activities of the fleet."
“In September or October, 1741, Mr. A— arrived in London; and the first person to whom he applied for advice and assistance was a man of the law, nearly related to the families of A— and A—, and well acquainted with the particular affairs of each; who, far from treating him as a bastard and impostor, received him with civility and seeming kindness, asked him to eat, presented him with a piece of money, and, excusing himself from meddling in the affair, advised him to go to Ireland, as the most proper place for commencing a suit for the recovery of his right.
“In September or October 1741, Mr. A— arrived in London, and the first person he approached for advice and help was a lawyer, closely related to the families of A— and A—, who was familiar with the specific issues of each. Instead of treating him like a bastard and fraud, the lawyer welcomed him with politeness and apparent kindness, invited him to eat, gave him some money, and, while excusing himself from getting involved, suggested that he go to Ireland as the best place to start a legal case to reclaim his rights.”
“Before the young gentleman had an opportunity, or indeed any inclination, to comply with this advice, he was accidentally met in the street by that same H—, who, as I have mentioned, gave Mr. M— the first insight into the affair. This man immediately knew the claimant, having been formerly an agent for his father, and afterwards a creature of his uncle's, with whom he was, not without reason, suspected to be concerned in kidnapping and transporting his nephew. Be that as it will, his connections with the usurper were now broken off by a quarrel, in consequence of which he had thrown up his agency; and he invited the hapless stranger to his house, with a view of making all possible advantage of such a guest.
“Before the young man had a chance, or really any desire, to take this advice, he unexpectedly bumped into that same H— in the street. This man, as I mentioned, had given Mr. M— the first clue into the situation. He immediately recognized the claimant, having previously worked as an agent for his father and later as a subordinate to his uncle, who was reasonably suspected of being involved in the kidnapping and transportation of his nephew. Nevertheless, his ties with the usurper had been severed due to a falling out, after which he had resigned from his agency. He invited the unfortunate stranger to his house, aiming to take full advantage of such a guest.”
“There he had not long remained, when his treacherous landlord, tampering with his inexperience, effected a marriage between him and the daughter of one of his own friends, who lodged in his house at the same time. But afterwards, seeing no person of consequence willing to espouse his cause, he looked upon him as an encumbrance, and wanted to rid his hands of him accordingly. He remembered that Mr. M— had expressed himself with all the humanity of apprehension in favour of the unfortunate young nobleman, before his arrival in England; and, being well acquainted with the generosity of his disposition, he no sooner understood that he was returned from France, than he waited upon him with an account of Mr. A—'s being safely arrived. Mr. M— was sincerely rejoiced to find, that a person who had been so cruelly injured, and undergone so long and continued a scene of distress, was restored to a country where he was sure of obtaining justice, and where every good man, as he imagined, would make the cause his own. And being informed that the youth was in want of necessaries, he gave twenty guineas to H— for his use, and promised to do him all the service in his power; but had no intention to take upon himself the whole weight of such an important affair, or indeed to appear in the cause, until he should be fully and thoroughly satisfied that the claimant's pretensions were well founded.
“There he had not been long when his deceitful landlord, taking advantage of his inexperience, arranged a marriage between him and the daughter of one of his friends who was staying in his house at the same time. But later, seeing that no one of importance was willing to support him, he viewed him as a burden and wanted to get rid of him. He remembered that Mr. M— had expressed deep concern for the unfortunate young nobleman before he arrived in England and, knowing well the generosity of his nature, he quickly sought him out as soon as he learned that he had returned from France, to inform him of Mr. A—'s safe arrival. Mr. M— was genuinely happy to discover that someone who had suffered such cruel treatment and endured prolonged distress was back in a country where he would surely find justice, and where every good person, as he believed, would take up his cause. After learning that the young man was in need of essentials, he gave twenty guineas to H— for him and promised to assist him in any way he could. However, he had no plans to take on the entire burden of such a significant matter or to get involved in it until he was completely convinced that the claimant's claims were legitimate.”
“In the meantime, H— insinuating that the young gentleman was not safe in his present lodging from the machinations of his enemies, M— accommodated him with an apartment in his own house; where he was at great pains to remedy the defect in his education, by rendering him fit to appear as a gentleman in the world. Having received from him all the intelligence he could give relating to his own affair, he laid the case before counsel, and despatched a person to Ireland, to make further inquiries upon the same subject; who, in his first arrival in that kingdom, found the claimant's birth was as publicly known as any circumstance of that kind could possibly be, at so great a distance of time.
“In the meantime, H— suggested that the young man wasn’t safe in his current place due to the schemes of his enemies, so M— offered him a room in his own house. He worked hard to make up for the gaps in his education, helping him to present himself as a gentleman in the world. After gathering all the information he could about his situation, he took the case to a lawyer and sent someone to Ireland to do further research on the matter. When that person arrived in Ireland, they discovered that the claimant's background was as well-known as any such detail could be, even after all this time.”
“The usurper and his friends gave all the interruption in their power to any researches concerning that affair; and had recourse to every art and expedient that could be invented, to prevent its being brought to a legal discussion. Privilege, bills in chancery, orders of court surreptitiously and illegally obtained, and every other invention was made use of to bar and prevent a fair and honest trial by a jury. The usurper himself, and his agents, at the same time that they formed divers conspiracies against his life, in vain endeavoured to detach Mr. M— from the orphan's cause, by innumerable artifices, insinuating, cajoling, and misrepresenting, with surprising dexterity and perseverance.
“The usurper and his friends did everything they could to interrupt any investigations into that matter and used every trick and tactic they could think of to stop it from being discussed legally. They relied on privileges, court petitions that were secretly and illegally obtained, and any other schemes to block a fair and honest trial by jury. The usurper himself, along with his agents, while plotting various conspiracies against his life, tried in vain to sway Mr. M— from supporting the orphan’s cause through countless manipulations, flattery, and misrepresentation, demonstrating remarkable skill and persistence.”
“His protector, far from being satisfied with their reasons, was not only deaf to their remonstrances, but, believing him in danger from their repeated efforts, had him privately conveyed into the country; where an unhappy accident, which he hath ever since sincerely regretted, furnished his adversary with a colourable pretext to cut him off in the beginning of his career.
“His protector, instead of being satisfied with their explanations, not only ignored their protests but, believing he was in danger from their constant attempts, arranged for him to be secretly moved to the countryside. There, an unfortunate incident, which he has deeply regretted ever since, gave his opponent a plausible reason to eliminate him at the start of his career."
“A man happening to lose his life by the accidental discharge of a piece that chanced to be in a young gentleman's hands, the account of this misfortune no sooner reached the ears of his uncle, than he expressed the most immoderate joy at having found so good a handle for destroying him, under colour of law. He immediately constituted himself prosecutor, set his emissaries at work to secure a coroner's inquest suited to his cruel purposes; set out for the place in person, to take care that the prisoner should not escape; insulted him in jail, in the most inhuman manner; employed a whole army of attorneys and agents, to spirit up and carry on a most virulent prosecution; practised all the unfair methods that could be invented, in order that the unhappy gentleman should be transported to Newgate, from the healthy prison to which he was at first committed; endeavoured to inveigle him into destructive confessions; and, not to mention other more infamous arts employed in the affair of evidence, attempted to surprise him upon his trial in the absence of his witnesses and counsel, contrary to a previous agreement with the prosecutor's own attorney. Nay, he even appeared in person upon the bench at the trial, in order to intimidate the evidence, and browbeat the unfortunate prisoner at the bar, and expended above a thousand pounds in that prosecution. In spite of all his wicked efforts, however, which were defeated by the spirit and indefatigable industry of Mr. M—, the young gentleman was honourably acquitted, to the evident satisfaction of all the impartial; the misfortune, that gave a handle for that unnatural prosecution, appearing to a demonstration to have been a mere accident.
A man accidentally lost his life because a gun went off while a young man was handling it. As soon as this news reached his uncle, he showed extreme delight at having found such a perfect excuse to ruin him under the guise of the law. He quickly took on the role of prosecutor, sent his agents to ensure a coroner's inquest that served his cruel intentions, and went to the scene himself to make sure the accused wouldn’t escape. He insulted him in jail in the most inhumane way, hired an entire team of lawyers to pursue a vicious prosecution, and used every unfair tactic he could think of to have the unfortunate man transported to Newgate from the healthy jail where he was initially held. He tried to trick him into making damaging confessions and, without mentioning other more disgraceful tactics involving evidence, attempted to catch him off guard during his trial without his witnesses and lawyer, violating a prior agreement with the prosecutor's own attorney. He even showed up in person at the trial to intimidate the witnesses and bully the unfortunate prisoner, spending over a thousand pounds on this prosecution. Despite all his evil efforts, which were thwarted by the determination and tireless work of Mr. M—, the young man was honorably acquitted to the clear satisfaction of all fair-minded observers. The incident that sparked this unnatural prosecution was clearly just an accident.
“In a few months, his protector, who had now openly espoused his cause, taking with him two gentlemen to witness his transactions, conducted him to his native country, with a view to be better informed of the strength of his pretensions, than he could be by the intelligence he had hitherto received, or by the claimant's own dark and almost obliterated remembrance of the facts which were essential to be known. Upon their arrival in Dublin, application was made to those persons whom Mr. A— had named as his schoolmasters and companions, together with the servants and neighbours of his father. These, though examined separately, without having the least previous intimation of what the claimant had reported, agreed in their accounts with him, as well as with one another, and mentioned many other people as acquainted with the same facts, to whom Mr. M— had recourse, and still met with the same unvaried information. By these means, he made such progress in his inquiries, that, in less than two months, no fewer than one hundred persons, from different quarters of the kingdom, either personally, or by letters, communicated their knowledge of the claimant, in declarations consonant with one another, as well as with the accounts he gave of himself. Several servants who had lived with his father, and been deceived with the story of his death, so industriously propagated by his uncle, no sooner heard of his being in Dublin, than they came from different parts of the country to see him; and though great pains were taken to deceive them, they, nevertheless, knew him at first sight; some of them fell upon their knees to thank for his preservation, embraced his legs, and shed tears of joy for his return.
“In a few months, his protector, who had now openly supported his cause, took two gentlemen with him to witness the proceedings and brought him back to his home country to get a clearer understanding of the strength of his claims than he could get from the information he had received so far or from the claimant's own vague and nearly faded memories of the important facts. Upon arriving in Dublin, they reached out to the people Mr. A— had identified as his schoolteachers and friends, along with his father's servants and neighbors. These individuals, questioned separately without any prior warning about what the claimant had reported, agreed with him and each other, and also mentioned many others who were aware of the same facts. Mr. M— reached out to them and consistently received the same unchanging information. Through these efforts, he made significant progress in his inquiries so that, in less than two months, no fewer than one hundred people from various parts of the kingdom either came forward in person or communicated by letters, sharing their knowledge of the claimant in statements that were consistent with one another as well as with his own accounts. Several servants who had worked for his father and had been misled by the story of his death, which his uncle had worked hard to spread, immediately came to see him as soon as they heard he was in Dublin. Even though great efforts were made to mislead them, they recognized him at first sight; some of them fell to their knees to thank him for his survival, embraced his legs, and shed tears of joy at his return.”
“Although the conduct of his adversary, particularly in the above-mentioned prosecution, together with the evidence that already appeared, were sufficient to convince all mankind of the truth of the claimant's pretensions, Mr. M—, in order to be further satisfied, resolved to see how he would be received upon the spot where he was born; justly concluding, that if he was really an impostor, the bastard of a kitchen-wench, produced in a country entirely possessed by his enemy and his allies, he must be looked upon in that place with the utmost detestation and contempt.
“Although his opponent's behavior, especially in the prosecution mentioned earlier, along with the evidence that was already presented, was enough to convince everyone of the truth of the claimant's claims, Mr. M—, wanting more assurance, decided to see how he would be treated in the place where he was born. He rightly thought that if he truly was a fraud, a bastard born of a kitchen maid in a country completely occupied by his enemy and their allies, he would be viewed there with the greatest disdain and contempt.”
“This his intention was no sooner known to the adverse party, than their agents and friends from all quarters repaired to that place with all possible despatch, and used all their influence with the people, in remonstrances, threats, and all the other arts they could devise, not only to discountenance the claimant upon his arrival, but even to spirit up a mob to insult him. Notwithstanding these precautions, and the servile awe and subjection in which tenants are kept by their landlords in that part of the country, as soon as it was known that Mr. A— approached the town, the inhabitants crowded out in great multitudes to receive and welcome him, and accompanied him into town, with acclamations, and other expressions of joy, insomuch that the agents of his adversary durst not show their faces. The sovereign of the corporation, who was a particular creature and favourite of the usurper, and whose all depended upon the issue of the cause, was so conscious of the stranger's right, and so much awed by the behaviour of the people, who knew that consciousness, that he did not think it safe even to preserve the appearance of neutrality upon this occasion, but actually held the stirrup while Mr. A— dismounted from his horse.
As soon as the opposing party found out about his intention, their agents and supporters rushed to that place as quickly as possible. They used all their influence over the people with complaints, threats, and other tricks they could come up with, not only to discourage the claimant when he arrived but even to incite a mob to insult him. Despite these efforts, and the fear and subservience the tenants felt towards their landlords in that part of the country, as soon as it became known that Mr. A— was approaching the town, the locals came out in droves to greet and welcome him, escorting him into town with cheers and other signs of joy. The agents of his opponent were too intimidated to show themselves. The leader of the corporation, who was a close associate and favorite of the usurper and whose entire future depended on the outcome of the case, was so aware of the stranger's rights and so influenced by the people's reaction—who were aware of this consciousness—that he didn't think it was safe to even pretend to be neutral on this occasion, but actually held the stirrup while Mr. A— got off his horse.
“This sense of conviction in the people manifested itself still more powerfully when he returned to the same place in the year 1744, about which time Lord A— being informed of his resolution, determined again to be beforehand with him, and set out in person, with his agents and friends, some of whom were detached before him to prepare for his reception, and induced the people to meet him in a body, and accompany him to town, with such expressions of welcome as they had before bestowed on his nephew; but, in spite of all their art and interest, he was suffered to pass through the street in a mournful silence; and though several barrels of beer were produced to court the favour of the populace, they had no other effect than that of drawing their ridicule upon the donor, whereas, when Mr. A—, two days afterwards, appeared, all the inhabitants, with garlands, streamers, music, and other ensigns of joy, crowded out to meet him, and ushered him into town with such demonstrations of pleasure and goodwill, that the noble peer found it convenient to hide himself from the resentment of his own tenants, the effects of which he must have severely felt, had not he been screened by the timely remonstrances of Mr. M—, and the other gentlemen who accompanied his competitor.
"This strong belief among the people became even more apparent when he returned to the same place in 1744. Around that time, Lord A— learned about his plans and decided to get ahead of him again. He set out in person with his agents and friends, some of whom were sent ahead to prepare for his arrival, convincing the people to gather and welcome him back, just as they had done for his nephew before. However, despite all their efforts, he was allowed to pass through the street in complete silence. Even though several barrels of beer were offered to win over the crowd, they only drew ridicule toward the donor. In contrast, when Mr. A— appeared two days later, all the locals came out with garlands, streamers, music, and other signs of celebration to greet him enthusiastically and usher him into town. The noble lord found it necessary to hide from the anger of his own tenants, which he would have felt intensely if it weren't for the timely interventions of Mr. M— and the other gentlemen accompanying his rival."
“Nor did his apprehension vanish with the transaction of this day; the town was again in uproar on the Sunday following, when it was known that Mr. A— intended to come thither from Dunmain to church; they went out to meet him as before, and conducted him to the church door with acclamations, which terrified his uncle to such a degree, that he fled with precipitation in a boat, and soon after entirely quitted the place.
“His anxiety didn’t go away after that day; the town was in an uproar again the following Sunday when they learned that Mr. A— planned to come from Dunmain to church. They went out to greet him as before and escorted him to the church door with cheers, which frightened his uncle so much that he quickly escaped in a boat and soon left the area altogether.”
“It would be almost an endless task to enumerate the particular steps that were taken by one side to promote, and by the other to delay, the trial. The young gentleman's adversaries finding that they could not, by all the subterfuges and arts they had used, evade it, repeated attempts were made to assassinate him and his protector; and every obstruction thrown in the way of his cause which craft could invent, villainy execute, and undue influence confirm. But all these difficulties were surmounted by the vigilance, constancy, courage, and sagacity of M—; and, at last, the affair was brought to a very solemn trial at bar, which being continued, by several adjournments, from the eleventh to the twenty-fifth day of November, a verdict was found for the claimant by a jury of gentlemen, which, in point of reputation and property, cannot be easily paralleled in the annals of that or any other country; a jury, that could by no means be suspected of prepossessions in favour of Mr. A—, to whose person they were absolute strangers; especially if we consider, that a gentleman in their neighbourhood, who was nephew to the foreman, and nearly related to some of the rest of their number, forfeited a considerable estate by their decision.
“It would be almost impossible to list all the steps taken by one side to push for, and the other to stall, the trial. The young man’s opponents, realizing they couldn't evade it through all the tricks and schemes they had tried, made repeated attempts to assassinate him and his protector; and they created every obstacle possible to derail his case, using craftiness, villainy, and inappropriate influence. But all these challenges were overcome by the vigilance, determination, courage, and wisdom of M—; and finally, the matter was brought to a very formal trial at bar, which, after several adjournments, took place from November 11th to November 25th, where a jury of gentlemen delivered a verdict in favor of the claimant. This case, in terms of reputation and property, is hard to match in the history of that or any other country; the jury had no reason to be biased in favor of Mr. A—, whose identity they did not know at all, especially considering that a gentleman in their area, who was the nephew of the foreman and closely related to some of the other jurors, lost a significant estate because of their decision.”
“This verdict,” said the parson, “gave the highest satisfaction to all impartial persons that were within reach of being duly informed of their proceedings, and of the different genius and conduct of the parties engaged in the contest, but more especially to such as were in court, as I was, at the trial, and had an opportunity of observing the characters and behaviour of the persons who appeared there to give evidence. To such it was very apparent, that all the witnesses produced there on the part of the uncle, were either his tenants, dependents, pot-companions, or persons some way or other interested in the issue of the suit, and remarkable for a low kind of cunning; that many of them were persons of profligate lives, who deserved no credit; that, independent of the levity of their characters, those of them who went under the denomination of colonels, Colonel L— alone excepted, who had nothing to say, and was only brought there in order to give credit to that party, made so ridiculous a figure, and gave so absurd, contradictory, and inconsistent an evidence, as no court or jury could give the least degree of credit to. On the other hand, it was observed, that the nephew and Mr. M—, his chief manager, being absolute strangers in that country, and unacquainted with the characters of the persons they had to deal with, were obliged to lay before the court and jury such evidence as came to their hand, some of whom plainly appeared to have been put upon them by their adversaries with a design to hurt. It was also manifest, that the witnesses produced for Mr. A—, were such as could have no manner of connection with him, nor any dependence whatsoever upon him, to influence their evidence; for the far greatest part of them had never seen him from his infancy till the trial began; and many of them, though poor, and undignified with the title of colonels, were people of unblemished character, of great simplicity, and such as no man in his senses would pitch upon to support a bad cause. It is plain that the jury, whose well-known honour, impartiality, and penetration, must be revered by all who are acquainted with them, were not under the least difficulty about their verdict; for they were not enclosed above half an hour, when they returned with it. These gentlemen could not help observing the great inequality of the parties engaged, the great advantages that the uncle had in every other respect, except the truth and justice of his case, over the nephew, by means of his vast possessions, and of his power and influence all round the place of his birth; nor could the contrast between the different geniuses of the two parties escape their observation. They could not but see and conclude, that a person who had confessedly transported and sold his orphan nephew into slavery,—who, on his return, had carried on so unwarrantable and cruel a prosecution to take away his life under colour of law,—and who had also given such glaring proofs of his skill and dexterity in the management of witnesses for that cruel purpose,—was in like manner capable of exerting the same happy talent on this occasion, when his all was at stake; more especially, as he had so many others who were equally interested with himself, and whose abilities in that respect fell nothing short of his own, to second him in it. The gentlemen of the jury had also a near view of the manner in which the witnesses delivered their testimonies, and had from thence an opportunity of observing many circumstances, and distinguishing characteristics of truth and falsehood, from which a great deal could be gathered, that could not be adequately conveyed by any printed account, how exact soever; consequently, they must have been much better judges of the evidence on which they founded their verdict than any person who had not the same opportunity, can possibly be.
“This verdict,” said the parson, “satisfied everyone who was able to get the full picture of the situation and the different personalities and actions of the people involved in the case, but especially those who were in court, like me, during the trial, and had the chance to watch the characters and behavior of the witnesses. For those people, it was clear that all the witnesses presented by the uncle were either his tenants, dependents, drinking buddies, or had some personal interest in the outcome of the case, and were notable for their low cunning; many of them had dubious backgrounds and deserved no trust; aside from the questionable nature of their characters, those who held the title of colonel—except for Colonel L—who said nothing and was only there to lend credibility to that side—made such a ridiculous impression and provided such absurd, contradictory, and inconsistent testimony that no court or jury could believe them for a second. On the flip side, it was noted that the nephew and Mr. M—, his main manager, being complete strangers in that area and unfamiliar with the backgrounds of the people they were dealing with, had to present the evidence they could get, some of which clearly seemed to have been suggested to them by their opponents with the intent to harm their case. It was also clear that the witnesses for Mr. A— had no connection to him or any motivation to sway their testimony; most of them hadn't seen him since childhood until the trial began; and many, though poor and lacking the title of colonel, were of impeccable character, very straightforward, and certainly not the kind of people anyone in their right mind would choose to support a questionable cause. It's evident that the jury, known for their honor, fairness, and insight—which everyone familiar with them respects—had no trouble at all with their verdict; they were only deliberating for about half an hour before they came back with it. These gentlemen couldn’t help but notice the significant imbalance between the two sides, the many advantages the uncle had in all respects except the actual truth and fairness of his case over the nephew due to his vast wealth and power in his birthplace; nor could they miss the striking difference in the nature of the two parties. They had to see and conclude that a person who had openly transported and sold his orphan nephew into slavery—who, upon his return, pursued an unjust and cruel prosecution to take away his life under the guise of law—and who had also shown glaring evidence of his skill and manipulation of witnesses for that cruel purpose—was equally capable of using the same skill on this occasion, especially with so many others who were just as invested as he was and whose talents in that regard were no less than his own, to support him in it. The jury members also had a close-up view of how the witnesses gave their testimonies, which allowed them to observe many details and distinguishing traits of truth and falsehood, leading to insights that couldn’t be fully captured in any printed account, no matter how precise; therefore, they must have been much better judges of the evidence on which they based their verdict than anyone without that same opportunity could ever be.
“These, Mr. Pickle, were my reflections on what I had occasion to observe concerning that famous trial; and, on my return to England two years after, I could not help pitying the self-sufficiency of some people, who, at this distance, pretended to pass their judgment on that verdict with as great positiveness as if they had been in the secrets of the cause, or upon the jury who tried it; and that from no better authority than the declamations of Lord A—'s emissaries, and some falsified printed accounts, artfully cooked up on purpose to mislead and deceive.
“Mr. Pickle, these were my thoughts on what I observed about that famous trial. When I returned to England two years later, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for some people who, from a distance, confidently judged that verdict as if they were aware of all the details or were part of the jury. Their opinions were based on nothing more than the speeches of Lord A—'s supporters and some distorted printed accounts that were cleverly created to mislead and deceive.”
“But to return from this digression. Lord A—, the defendant in that cause, was so conscious of the strength and merits of his injured nephew's case, and that a verdict would go against him, that he ordered a writ of error to be made out before the trial was ended; and the verdict was no sooner given, than he immediately lodged it, though he well knew he had no manner of error to assign. This expedient was practised merely for vexation and delay, in order to keep Mr. A— from the possession of the small estate he had recovered by the verdict, that, his slender funds being exhausted, he might be deprived of other means to prosecute his right; and by the most oppressive contrivances and scandalous chicanery, it has been kept up to this day, without his being able to assign the least shadow of any error.
“But to get back to the point. Lord A—, the defendant in that case, was fully aware of how strong and valid his injured nephew's case was, and that a verdict would be against him. So, he had a writ of error prepared before the trial even finished; as soon as the verdict was announced, he immediately filed it, even though he knew he had no valid reason to do so. This tactic was used just to annoy and delay, intending to prevent Mr. A— from getting the small estate he had won by the verdict, so that, with his limited funds spent, he would be left with no other way to fight for his rights. By the most oppressive tactics and ridiculous legal tricks, this situation has continued up to now, without him being able to prove even the slightest error.”
“Lord A— was not the only antagonist that Mr. A— had to deal with; all the different branches of the A— family, who had been worrying one another at law ever since the death of the late earl of A—, about the partition of his great estate, were now firmly united in an association against this unfortunate gentleman; mutual deeds were executed among them, by which many great lordships and estates were given up by the uncle to persons who had no right to possess them, in order to engage them to side with him against his nephew, in withholding the unjust possession of the remainder.
“Lord A— wasn't the only opponent Mr. A— had to contend with; all the different branches of the A— family, who had been disputing each other in court since the death of the late earl of A— over the division of his large estate, were now solidly united in an alliance against this unfortunate man. They executed mutual agreements among themselves, in which the uncle surrendered many valuable lordships and estates to people who had no rightful claim to them, to get them to support him against his nephew in keeping the unfair possession of the rest.”
“These confederates having held several consultations against their common enemy, and finding that his cause gathered daily strength since the trial, by the accession of many witnesses of figure and reputation, who had not been heard of before, and that the only chance they had to prevent the speedy establishment of his right, and their own destruction, was by stripping Mr. M— of the little money that yet remained, and by stopping all further resources whereby he might be enabled to proceed; they therefore came to a determined resolution to carry that hopeful scheme into execution; and, in pursuance thereof, they have left no expedient or stratagem, how extraordinary or scandalous soever, unpractised, to distress Mr. A— and that gentleman. For that end, all the oppressive arts and dilatory expensive contrivances that the fertile invention of the lowest pettifoggers of the law could possibly devise, have with dexterity been played off against them, in fruitless quibbling, and malicious suits, entirely foreign to the merits of the cause. Not to mention numberless other acts of oppression, the most extraordinary and unprecedented proceeding, by means whereof this sham writ of error hath been kept on foot ever since November, 1743, is to me,” said the doctor, “a most flagrant instance not only of the prevalency of power and money, when employed, as in the present case, against an unfortunate helpless man, disabled, as he is, of the means of ascertaining his right, but of the badness of a cause that hath recourse to so many iniquitous expedients to support it.
“These allies, after meeting several times to discuss their common enemy, realized that his position was getting stronger every day since the trial. He was gaining support from numerous influential and reputable witnesses who had not testified before. Their only chance to stop the quick establishment of his claims and their own downfall was to take away the little money Mr. M— still had and to cut off any further resources that could help him move forward. They decided to go ahead with this promising plan and, to that end, they used every possible method or scheme, no matter how unusual or scandalous, to trouble Mr. A— and that gentleman. They employed all the oppressive tactics and delaying, costly strategies that the most devious lawyers could come up with, engaging in pointless arguments and malicious lawsuits unrelated to the actual issues at hand. Not to mention countless other acts of oppression, the most extraordinary and unprecedented action that has kept this sham writ of error alive since November 1743 is, to me,” said the doctor, “a blatant example not only of how power and money can dominate when wielded against an unfortunate, helpless individual who lacks the means to assert his rights, but also of how weak a cause must be to rely on so many unethical tactics to uphold it.”
“In a word, the whole conduct of Lord A— and his party, from the beginning to this time, hath been such as sufficiently manifests that it could proceed from no other motives than a consciousness of Mr. A—'s right, and of their own illegal usurpations, and from a terror of trusting the merits of their case to a fair discussion by the laws of their country; and that the intention and main drift of all their proceedings plainly tends to stifle and smother the merits of the case from the knowledge of the world, by oppressive arts and ingenious delays, rather than trust it to the candid determination of an honest jury. What else could be the motives of kidnapping the claimant, and transporting him when an infant? of the various attempts made upon his life since his return? of the attempts to divest him of all assistance to ascertain his right, by endeavouring so solicitously to prevail on Mr. M— to abandon him in the beginning? of retaining an army of counsel before any suit had been commenced? of the many sinister attempts to prevent the trial at bar? of the various arts made use of to terrify any one from appearing as witness for the claimant, and to seduce those who had appeared? of the shameless, unprecedented, low tricks now practised, to keep him out of the possession of that estate for which he had obtained the verdict, thereby to disable him from bringing his cause to a further hearing; and of the attempts made to buy up Mr. M—'s debts, and to spirit up suits against him? Is it not obvious from all these circumstances, as well as from the obstruction they have given to the attorney-general's proceeding to make a report to his majesty on the claimant's petition to the king for the peerage, which was referred by his majesty to that gentleman, so far back as 1743, that all their efforts are bent to that one point, of stifling, rather than suffering the merits of this cause to come to a fair and candid hearing; and that the sole consideration at present between them and this unfortunate man is not whether he is right or wrong, but whether he shall or shall not find money to bring this cause to a final determination?
In short, the actions of Lord A— and his group, from the start up until now, clearly show that their motives stem from an awareness of Mr. A—'s rights and their own illegal takeovers, along with a fear of allowing the merits of their case to be discussed openly within the framework of the law. Their plans and main efforts seem designed to obscure the truth of the case from public view through oppressive tactics and clever delays, rather than trusting it to a fair judgment by an honest jury. What else could explain their motives for kidnapping the claimant and transporting him away as an infant? The numerous attempts on his life since his return? Their efforts to strip him of all help in asserting his rights by trying hard to convince Mr. M— to abandon him from the start? Hiring an army of lawyers before any legal action was taken? The many dubious attempts to avoid the trial? The various methods used to intimidate anyone from testifying for the claimant and to persuade those who did? The shameless, unprecedented low tactics now being used to keep him from claiming the estate for which he secured a verdict, thus hindering his ability to bring his case for further hearings? And the attempts to pay off Mr. M—'s debts and provoke lawsuits against him? Isn’t it clear from all these actions, as well as from the obstacles they have posed to the attorney-general's process in reporting to the king on the claimant’s petition for the peerage, which has been pending since 1743, that all their efforts are focused on suppressing the merits of this case rather than allowing it to be fairly heard? The only consideration between them and this unfortunate man right now is not whether he is right or wrong, but whether he can find the money to bring this case to a final resolution.
“Lord A— and his confederates, not thinking themselves safe with all these expedients, while there was a possibility of their antagonist's obtaining any assistance from such as humanity, compassion, generosity, or a love of justice, might induce to lay open their purses to his assistance in ascertaining his right, have, by themselves and their numerous emissaries, employed all the arts of calumny, slander, and detraction against him, by traducing his cause, vilifying his person, and most basely and cruelly tearing his character to pieces, by a thousand misrepresentations, purposely invented and industriously propagated in all places of resort, which is a kind of cowardly assassination that there is no guarding against; yet, in spite of all these machinations, and the shameful indifference of mankind, who stand aloof unconcerned, and see this unhappy gentleman most inhumanly oppressed by the weight of lawless power and faction, M—, far from suffering himself to be dejected by the multiplying difficulties that crowd upon him, still exerts himself with amazing fortitude and assiduity, and will, I doubt not, bring the affair he began and carried on with so much spirit, while his finances lasted, to a happy conclusion.
“Lord A— and his allies, feeling insecure despite all their strategies, worry about the chance that their opponent might gain help from anyone motivated by humanity, compassion, generosity, or a sense of justice, which could lead them to open their wallets for his support in establishing his rights. So, they and their many agents have resorted to all sorts of lies, slander, and character assassination against him. They have attacked his cause, disparaged his character, and cruelly shredded his reputation through countless fabrications that they deliberately created and spread everywhere people gather. This is a cowardly form of attack that is impossible to defend against. Yet, despite all these schemes and the disgraceful indifference of people who stand by unconcerned while this unfortunate man is cruelly oppressed by the weight of unlawful power and faction, M—, instead of letting himself be discouraged by the increasing challenges he faces, continues to show remarkable strength and diligence. I have no doubt he will bring the matter he started and pursued with such vigor, while his resources lasted, to a successful conclusion.”
“It would exceed the bounds of my intention, and, perhaps, trespass too much upon your time, were I to enumerate the low artifices and shameful quibbles by which the usurper has found means to procrastinate the decision of the contest between him and his hapless nephew, or to give a detail of the damage and perplexity which Mr. M— has sustained, and been involved in, by the treachery and ingratitude of some who listed themselves under him in the prosecution of this affair; and by the villainy of others, who, under various pretences of material discoveries they had to make, etc., had fastened themselves upon him, and continued to do all the mischief in their power, until the cloven foot was detected.
“It would go beyond my intention and possibly take up too much of your time if I were to list the cheap tricks and disgraceful arguments the usurper has used to delay the resolution of the conflict between him and his unfortunate nephew, or to describe the damage and confusion that Mr. M— has experienced due to the betrayal and ungratefulness of some who claimed to support him in this matter; and by the wrongdoing of others, who, under various claims of important discoveries they had to share, had attached themselves to him, continuing to cause as much trouble as they could until the truth was revealed.”
“One instance, however, is so flagrantly flagitious, that I cannot resist the inclination I feel to relate it, as an example of the most infernal perfidy that perhaps ever entered the human heart. I have already mentioned the part which H—n acted in the beginning of M—'s connection with the unfortunate stranger, and hinted that the said H— lay under many obligations to that gentleman before Mr. A—'s arrival in England. He had been chief agent to Lord A—, and, as it afterwards appeared, received several payments of a secret pension which that lord enjoyed, for which he either could not or would not account. His lordship, therefore, in order to compel him to it, took out writs against him, and his house was continually surrounded with catchpoles for the space of two whole years.
“One instance, however, is so shockingly disgraceful that I can’t help but share it as an example of the deepest betrayal that may have ever existed in the human heart. I've already mentioned H—n's role at the beginning of M—'s connection with the unfortunate stranger, and suggested that H—n owed that gentleman quite a bit before Mr. A— arrived in England. He had been the main agent for Lord A— and, as it later turned out, received several payments from a secret pension that the lord had, for which he either couldn't or wouldn't provide an explanation. To force him to do so, Lord A— took legal action against him, and his house was constantly surrounded by bailiffs for two whole years.”
“Mr. M— believing, from H—'s own account of the matter, that the poor man was greatly injured, and prosecuted on account of his attachment to the unhappy young gentleman, did him all the good offices in his power, and became security for him on several occasions; nay, such was his opinion of his integrity, that, after Mr. A— was cleared of the prosecution carried on against him by his uncle, his person was entrusted to the care of this hypocrite, who desired that the young gentleman might lodge at his house for the convenience of air, M—'s own occasions calling him often into the country.
“Mr. M— believed, based on H—'s own version of events, that the poor man was seriously hurt and was being prosecuted because of his loyalty to the unfortunate young gentleman. He did everything he could to help him and acted as his guarantor on several occasions. In fact, Mr. M— thought so highly of his honesty that, after Mr. A— was cleared of the charges brought against him by his uncle, he entrusted his care to this hypocrite, who requested that the young gentleman stay at his house for better air, since M— often had to go into the country for his own business.”
“Having thus, by his consummate dissimulation, acquired such a valuable charge, he wrote a letter to one of Lord A—'s attorneys, offering to betray Mr. A—, provided his lordship would settle his account, and give him a discharge for eight hundred pounds of the pension which he had received and not accounted for. Mr. M—, informed of this treacherous proposal, immediately removed his lodger from his house into his own, without assigning his reasons for so doing, until he was obliged to declare it, in order to free himself from the importunities of H—, who earnestly solicited his return. This miscreant finding himself detected and disappointed in his villainous design, was so much enraged at his miscarriage, that, forgetting all the benefits he had received from M— for a series of years, he practised all the mischief that his malice could contrive against him; and at length entered into a confederacy with one G—, and several other abandoned wretches, who, as before said, under various pretences of being able to make material discoveries, and otherwise to serve the cause, had found means to be employed in some extra business relating to it, though their real intention was to betray the claimant.
“Having cleverly deceived everyone to take on such an important role, he wrote a letter to one of Lord A—'s lawyers, offering to betray Mr. A— if his lordship would settle his account and provide him with a release for eight hundred pounds of the pension he had received but hadn’t accounted for. Mr. M—, informed of this treacherous proposal, quickly moved his lodger from his house to his own without explaining his reasons until he had to do so to get rid of H—, who was desperately requesting his return. This scoundrel, discovering that his wicked plan had failed, was so furious about his setback that he forgot all the help he had received from M— over the years and unleashed all the harm that his malice could come up with against him. Eventually, he teamed up with G— and several other unscrupulous individuals who, as mentioned earlier, under various pretenses of being able to make significant discoveries and otherwise help the cause, had managed to get involved in some extra tasks related to it, although their true aim was to betray the claimant."
“These confederates, in conjunction with some other auxiliaries of infamous character, being informed that Mr. M— was on the point of securing a considerable sum, to enable him to prosecute Mr. A—'s right, and to bring it to a happy conclusion, contrived a deep-laid scheme to disappoint him in it, and at once to ruin the cause. And, previous measures being taken for that wicked purpose, they imposed upon the young gentleman's inexperience and credulity by insinuations equally false, plausible, and malicious; to which they at length gained his belief, by the mention of some circumstances that gave what they alleged an air of probability, and even of truth. They swore that Mr. M— had taken out an action against him for a very large sum of money; that they had actually seen the writ; that the intention of it was to throw him into prison for life, and ruin his cause, in consequence of an agreement made by him with Lord A—, and his other enemies, to retrieve the money that he had laid out in the cause.
“These associates, along with some other unsavory characters, learned that Mr. M— was about to secure a substantial amount to help him pursue Mr. A—'s claim and bring it to a successful conclusion. They plotted a clever scheme to thwart him and ultimately destroy his case. After making prior arrangements for this wicked plan, they took advantage of the young man's inexperience and gullibility with equally false, believable, and malicious insinuations. Eventually, they convinced him by referencing certain circumstances that made their claims seem plausible, even true. They claimed that Mr. M— had filed a lawsuit against him for a large sum of money; that they had actually seen the legal documents; that the intent was to imprison him for life and ruin his case because of an agreement he made with Lord A— and his other foes to recover the money he had invested in the case.”
“This plausible tale was enforced with such an air of truth, candour, and earnest concern for his safety, and was strengthened by so many imprecations and corroborating circumstances of their invention, as would have staggered one of much greater experience and knowledge of mankind than Mr. A— could be supposed at that time to possess. The notion of perpetual imprisonment, and the certain ruin they made him believe his cause was threatened with, worked upon his imagination to such a degree, that he suffered himself to be led like a lamb to the slaughter by this artful band of villains, who secreted him at the lodgings of one P—, an intimate of G—'s, for several days, under colour of his being hunted by bailiffs employed by Mr. M—, where he was not only obliged by them to change his name, but even his wife was not suffered to have access to him.
“This believable story was told with such an air of truth, honesty, and genuine concern for his safety, and was backed by so many curses and supporting details of their creation, that it would have shaken someone with much more experience and understanding of people than Mr. A— could be expected to have at that time. The idea of being imprisoned forever, and the certain doom they convinced him his situation faced, affected his mind to such an extent that he allowed himself to be led like a lamb to the slaughter by this crafty group of villains, who hid him at the home of one P—, a close associate of G—'s, for several days, under the pretense that he was being chased by bailiffs hired by Mr. M—, where he was not only forced to change his name, but even his wife was not allowed to see him."
“Their design was to have sold him, or drawn him into a ruinous compromise with his adversaries, for a valuable consideration to themselves. But as no ties are binding among such a knot of villains, the rest of the conspirators were jockeyed by G—, who, in order to monopolize the advantage to himself, hurried his prize into the country, and secreted him even from his confederates, in a place of concealment one hundred miles from London, under the same ridiculous pretence of M—'s having taken out a writ against him, and of bailiffs being in pursuit of him everywhere round London.
“Their plan was to sell him or force him into a bad deal with his enemies, making it profitable for themselves. But since no loyalty exists among such a group of villains, the rest of the conspirators were manipulated by G—, who, wanting all the benefits for himself, rushed his captive out to the countryside and hid him even from his partners, in a hiding spot a hundred miles from London, under the silly excuse that M— had issued a writ against him and that bailiffs were chasing him all around London.”
“He was no sooner there, than G—, as a previous step to the other villainy he intended, tricked him out of a bond for six thousand pounds, under colour of his having a person ready to advance the like sum upon it, as an immediate fund for carrying on his cause; assuring him, at the same time, that he had a set of gentlemen ready, who were willing to advance twenty-five thousand pounds more for the same purpose, and to allow him five hundred pounds a year for his maintenance, till his cause should be made an end of, provided that Mr. M— should have no further concern with him and his cause.
"He had barely arrived when G—, as a preliminary step to the other wrongdoing he had planned, tricked him into signing a bond for six thousand pounds, claiming he had someone ready to lend that amount as an immediate fund to support his cause. At the same time, he guaranteed that he had a group of investors prepared to contribute an additional twenty-five thousand pounds for the same reason, and to grant him five hundred pounds a year for his upkeep until his cause was resolved, on the condition that Mr. M— would no longer have any involvement with him or his cause."
“Mr. A—, having by this time received some intimations of the deceit that had been put upon him, made answer, that he should look upon himself as a very ungrateful monster indeed, if he deserted a person who had saved his life, and so generously ventured his own, together with his fortune, in his cause, until he should first be certain of the truth of what was alleged of him, and absolutely rejected the proposal. G—, who had no other view in making it, than to cover the secret villainy he meditated against him, and to facilitate the execution thereof, easily receded from it, when he found Mr. A— so averse to it, and undertook nevertheless to raise the money, adding, that he might, if he pleased, return to Mr. M— whenever it was secured. The whole drift of this pretended undertaking to raise the twenty-five thousand pounds, was only to lay a foundation for a dexterous contrivance to draw Mr. A— unwarily into the execution of a deed, relinquishing all his right and title, under a notion of its being a deed to secure the repayment of that sum.
“Mr. A—, having by this point received some hints about the deceit that had been played on him, replied that he would consider himself a truly ungrateful monster if he abandoned someone who had saved his life and risked his own, along with his fortune, for his sake, until he could be certain of the truth of the accusations against him. He completely rejected the proposal. G—, whose only intent in making it was to cover the secret wrongdoing he was planning against him and to make it easier to carry out, quickly backed off when he saw Mr. A— was so opposed to it. He nonetheless agreed to raise the money, saying that Mr. A— could return to Mr. M— whenever it was secured. The whole purpose of this supposed plan to raise twenty-five thousand pounds was merely to set up a clever scheme to lure Mr. A— into unknowingly signing a document that would give up all his rights and claims, believing it to be a contract to ensure the repayment of that amount.”
“G— having, as he imagined, so far paved the way for the execution of such a deed, enters into an agreement with an agent, employed for that purpose by Mr. A—'s adversaries, purporting that in consideration of the payment of a bond for six thousand pounds, which he, G—, had, as he pretended, laid out in Mr. A—'s cause, and of an annuity of seven hundred pounds a year, he was to procure for them from Mr. A— a deed ready executed, relinquishing all right and title to the A— estate and honours. Everything being prepared for the execution of this infernal scheme, unknown to Mr. A—, G— then thought proper to send for him to town from his retirement, in order, as he pretended, to execute a security of twenty-five thousand pounds.
“G— believing he had paved the way for carrying out such a deed, made a deal with an agent hired by Mr. A—'s enemies. The agreement stated that in exchange for a bond of six thousand pounds, which he, G—, claimed he had invested in Mr. A—'s case, and an annual payment of seven hundred pounds, he would obtain a signed deed from Mr. A— that would give up all rights and claims to the A— estate and titles. With everything in place for this evil plan, and without Mr. A— knowing, G— decided to call him to town from his retreat, supposedly to sign a security for twenty-five thousand pounds.”
“This intended victim to that villain's avarice no sooner arrived in town, full of hopes of money to carry on his cause, and of agreeably surprising his friend and protector Mr. M—, with so seasonable and unexpected a reinforcement, than an unforeseen difficulty arose, concerning the payment of G—'s six-thousand-pound bond. That money was to have been raised out of the estate of a lunatic, which could not be done without the leave of the Court of Chancery, to whom an account must have been given of the intended application of it. While preparations were making to rectify this omission, G— immediately carried Mr. A— again into the country, lest he should happen to be undeceived by some means or other.
“This intended victim of that villain's greed had barely arrived in town, filled with hopes of money to support his cause and excited to surprise his friend and protector Mr. M— with such a timely and unexpected boost, when an unforeseen issue arose regarding the payment of G—'s six-thousand-pound bond. That money was supposed to come from the estate of a mentally ill person, which couldn’t be done without the approval of the Court of Chancery, where an account had to be given about how it was intended to be used. While efforts were underway to correct this oversight, G— quickly took Mr. A— back to the country, to prevent him from possibly finding out the truth by some means or another."
“In the meantime, this wicked machination was providentially discovered by Mr. M—, before it could be carried into execution, by means of the jealousies that arose among the conspirators themselves; and was, at the same time, confirmed to him by a person whom the very agent for the A— party had entrusted with the secret. M— no sooner detected it, than he communicated his discovery to one of Mr. A—'s counsel, a man of great worth, and immediately thereupon took proper measures to defeat it. He then found means to lay open to Mr. A— himself the treacherous scheme that was laid for his destruction. He was highly sensible of it, and could never afterwards reflect on the snare that he had so unwarily been drawn into, and had so narrowly escaped, without a mixture of horror, shame, and gratitude to his deliverer.
“In the meantime, this wicked plan was luckily discovered by Mr. M— before it could be put into action, thanks to the jealousy that arose among the conspirators themselves; and it was also confirmed to him by someone whom the very agent for the A— party had trusted with the secret. As soon as M— uncovered it, he informed one of Mr. A—'s lawyers, a man of great integrity, and immediately took the necessary steps to stop it. He then figured out a way to reveal to Mr. A— himself the treacherous plot that was set to destroy him. Mr. A— was deeply aware of it and could never afterwards think about the trap he had so carelessly fallen into, from which he had narrowly escaped, without feeling a mix of horror, shame, and gratitude to his rescuer."
“The consummate assurance of the monsters who were engaged in this plot, after they had been detected, and upbraided with their treachery, is scarce to be paralleled; for they not only owned the fact of spiriting Mr. A— away in the manner above mentioned, but justified their doing it as tending to his service. They also maintained, that they had actually secured the twenty-five thousand pounds for him, though they never could name any one person who was to have advanced the money. No man was more active in this scheme than H—, nor any man more solicitous to keep Mr. A— up in the false impressions he had received, or in projecting methods to ruin his protector, than he.
“The complete confidence of the monsters involved in this plot, after they were caught and confronted with their betrayal, is hard to match; they not only admitted to taking Mr. A— away in the manner described, but they also defended their actions as beneficial to him. They claimed that they had indeed secured the twenty-five thousand pounds for him, even though they could never name anyone who was supposed to provide the money. No one was more active in this scheme than H—, nor was anyone more eager to keep Mr. A— believing the false impressions he had received, or to plan ways to ruin his protector, than he.”
“Among many other expedients for that purpose, a most malicious attempt was made to lodge an information against him, for treasonable practices, with the secretary of state, notwithstanding the repeated proofs he had given of his loyalty; and, as a preparatory step to his accusation, a letter, which this traitor dictated, was copied by another person, and actually sent to the earl of C—, importing, that the person who copied the letter had an affair of consequence to communicate to his lordship, if he would appoint a time of receiving the information. But that person, upon full conviction of the villainy of the scheme, absolutely refused to proceed further in it; so that his malice once more proved abortive; and before he had time to execute any other contrivance of the same nature, he was imprisoned in this very jail for debt.
“Among many other tactics for that purpose, a very malicious attempt was made to file a charge against him for treasonable activities with the secretary of state, despite the repeated evidence he had shown of his loyalty. As a preliminary step to his accusation, a letter, which this traitor dictated, was copied by someone else and actually sent to the Earl of C—, suggesting that the person who copied the letter had something important to share with his lordship, if he would set a time to receive the information. However, that person, fully realizing the wickedness of the plan, completely refused to go along with it; thus, the traitor's malice once again failed. Before he had the chance to carry out any other similar scheme, he was imprisoned in this very jail for debt.”
“Here, finding his creditors inexorable, and himself destitute of all other resource, he made application to the very man whom he had injured in such an outrageous manner, set forth his deplorable case in the most pathetic terms, and entreated him, with the most abject humility, to use his influence in his behalf. The distress of this varlet immediately disarmed M— of his resentment, and even excited his compassion. Without sending any answer to his remonstrances, he interceded for him with his creditors; and the person to whom he was chiefly indebted, refusing to release him without security, this unwearied benefactor joined with the prisoner in a bond for above two hundred and forty pounds, for which he obtained his release.
“Here, finding his creditors relentless and himself without any other options, he approached the very man he had hurt in such a terrible way, presented his miserable situation in the most heartbreaking terms, and begged him, with the utmost humility, to use his influence to help him. The plight of this unfortunate man immediately softened M—’s anger and even stirred his compassion. Without responding to his arguments, he advocated for him with his creditors; and the person to whom he was primarily indebted, refusing to free him without collateral, this tireless benefactor co-signed a bond for over two hundred and forty pounds, which secured his release.”
“He was no sooner discharged, however, than he entered into fresh combinations with G— and others, in order to thwart his deliverer in his schemes of raising money, and otherwise to distress and deprive him of liberty; for which purpose, no art or industry, perjury not excepted, hath been spared. And, what is still more extraordinary, this perfidious monster having found money to take up the bond, in consequence of which he regained his freedom, hath procured a writ against M—, upon that very obligation; and taken assignments to some other debts of that gentleman, with the same Christian intention. But hitherto he hath, by surprising sagacity and unshaken resolution, baffled all their infernal contrivances, and retorted some of their machinations on their own heads. At this time, when he is supposed by some, and represented by others, as under the circumstances of oblivion and despondence, he proceeds in his design with the utmost calmness and intrepidity, meditating schemes, and ripening measures, that will one day confound his enemies, and attract the notice and admiration of mankind.”
“He was barely discharged when he started new plots with G— and others to undermine his rescuer's efforts to raise funds, and to otherwise harass him and strip him of his freedom. For this, no trick or effort, not even perjury, has been left out. What’s even more shocking is that this treacherous monster, having found the money to pay the bond that earned him his release, has obtained a writ against M— based on that very obligation, and has taken assignments on some of that gentleman’s other debts, all with the same malicious intent. But so far, through remarkable cleverness and unwavering determination, he has foiled all their wicked schemes and turned some of their plots back on them. At this moment, when some consider him to be in a state of neglect and despair, and others portray him that way, he continues his plans with complete calmness and courage, devising strategies and preparing actions that will one day bewilder his enemies and draw the attention and admiration of the public.”
Peregrine, having thanked the priest for his obliging information, expressed his surprise at the scandalous inattention of the world to an affair of such importance; observing, that, by such inhuman neglect, this unfortunate young gentleman, Mr. A—, was absolutely deprived of all the benefit of society; the sole end of which is, to protect the rights, redress the grievances, and promote the happiness of individuals. As for the character of M—, he said, it was so romantically singular in all its circumstances, that, though other motives were wanting, curiosity alone would induce him to seek his acquaintance. But he did not at all wonder at the ungrateful returns which had been made to his generosity by H— and many others, whom he had served in a manner that few, besides himself, would have done; for he had been long convinced of the truth conveyed in these lines of a celebrated Italian author:—
Peregrine, after thanking the priest for his helpful information, expressed his surprise at how scandalously the world ignored such an important matter. He noted that this inhumane neglect left the unfortunate young man, Mr. A—, completely deprived of all the benefits of society, which is meant to protect people's rights, address their grievances, and promote their happiness. Regarding M—, he said that the character was so uniquely extraordinary in all its details that, even without other reasons, mere curiosity would drive him to seek out his acquaintance. However, he was not at all surprised by the ungrateful responses to M—'s generosity from H— and many others whom he had helped in ways that few, besides himself, would have done; he had long been convinced of the truth expressed in these lines by a well-known Italian author:—
Li beneficii che, per la loro grandezza, non ponno esser guiderdonati, con la scelerata moneta dell' ingratitudine sono pagati.
Li beneficii che, per la loro grandezza, non possono essere ricompensati, vengono pagati con la meschina moneta dell'ingratitudine.
“The story which you have related of that young gentleman,” said he, “bears a very strong resemblance to the fate of a Spanish nobleman, as it was communicated to me by one of his own intimate friends at Paris. The Countess d'Alvarez died immediately after the birth of a son, and the husband surviving her but three years, the child was left sole heir to the honours and estate, under the guardianship of his uncle, who had a small fortune and a great many children. This inhuman relation, coveting the wealth of his infant ward, formed a design against the life of the helpless orphan, and trusted the execution of it to his valet-de-chambre, who was tempted to undertake the murder by the promise of a considerable reward. He accordingly stabbed the boy with a knife in three different places, on the right side of his neck; but, as he was not used to such barbarous attempts, his hand failed in the performance; and he was seized with such remorse, that, perceiving the wounds were not mortal, he carried the hapless victim to the house of a surgeon, by whose care they were healed; and, in the meantime, that he might not forfeit his recompense, found means to persuade his employer, that his orders were performed. A bundle being made up for the purpose, was publicly interred as the body of the child, who was said to have been suddenly carried off by a convulsion; and the uncle, without opposition, succeeded to his honours and estate. The boy being cured of his hurts, was, about the age of six, delivered, with a small sum of money, to a merchant just embarking for Turkey; who was given to understand, that he was the bastard of a man of quality and that for family reasons, it was necessary to conceal his birth.
“The story you just told about that young man,” he said, “is very similar to the fate of a Spanish nobleman, as I heard it from one of his close friends in Paris. The Countess d'Alvarez died right after giving birth to a son, and her husband survived her for only three years. This left the child as the sole heir to the honors and estate, under the care of his uncle, who had a modest fortune and many children. This cruel relative, eager for the wealth of his infant ward, plotted to take the life of the helpless orphan, and entrusted the task to his valet, who was tempted to commit murder with the promise of a large reward. He ended up stabbing the boy in three different spots on the right side of his neck; however, since he wasn’t used to such brutal acts, he failed to succeed, and was filled with remorse. Realizing the wounds weren’t fatal, he took the unfortunate child to a surgeon, who managed to heal him. In the meantime, to avoid losing his reward, he cleverly convinced his employer that he had carried out his orders. A bundle was prepared and publicly buried as the child’s body, which was said to have been suddenly taken by a convulsion; and the uncle, without any opposition, inherited the honors and estate. Once the boy was healed, at about six years old, he was handed over, along with a small sum of money, to a merchant who was about to leave for Turkey. The merchant was told that the boy was the illegitimate son of a man of quality and that it was necessary to keep his birth a secret for family reasons.”
“While the unfortunate orphan remained in this deplorable state of bondage, all the children of the usurper died one after another; and he himself being taken dangerously ill, attributed all his afflictions to the just judgment of God, and communicated his anxiety on that subject to the valet-de-chambre, who had been employed in the murder of his nephew. That domestic, in order to quiet his master's conscience, and calm the perturbation of his spirits, confessed what he had done, and gave him hopes of still finding the boy by dint of industry and expense. The unhappy child being the only hope of the family of Alvarez, the uncle immediately ordered a minute inquiry to be set on foot; in consequence of which he was informed, that the orphan had been sold to a Turk, who had afterwards transferred him to an English merchant, by whom he was conveyed to London.
“While the unfortunate orphan remained in this terrible state of captivity, all the children of the usurper died one after another; and he himself fell seriously ill, blaming all his suffering on the just judgment of God. He shared his worries about this with the valet-de-chambre, who had been involved in the murder of his nephew. To ease his master's conscience and calm his troubled mind, the servant confessed what he had done and gave him hope of still finding the boy through effort and money. The poor child being the only hope for the Alvarez family, the uncle immediately ordered a thorough investigation. As a result, he learned that the orphan had been sold to a Turk, who later transferred him to an English merchant, who then took him to London.”
“An express was immediately despatched to this capital, where he understood that the unhappy exile had, in consideration of his faithful services, been bound apprentice to a French barber-surgeon; and, after he had sufficiently qualified himself in that profession, been received into the family of the Count de Gallas, at that time the emperor's ambassador at the court of London. From the house of this nobleman he was traced into the service of Count d'Oberstorf, where he had married his lady's chambermaid, and then gone to settle as a surgeon in Bohemia.
An express was immediately sent to this capital, where he learned that the unfortunate exile had, due to his loyal service, been apprenticed to a French barber-surgeon. After gaining enough skill in that profession, he was accepted into the household of Count de Gallas, who was then the emperor's ambassador at the court in London. From the home of this nobleman, he was tracked to the service of Count d'Oberstorf, where he married his lady's maid and then moved to establish himself as a surgeon in Bohemia.
“In the course of these inquiries, several years elapsed: his uncle, who was very much attached to the house of Austria, lived at Barcelona when the father of this empress-queen resided in that city, and lent him a very considerable sum of money in the most pressing emergency of his affairs; and when that prince was on the point of returning to Germany, the old count, finding his end approaching, sent his father confessor to his majesty, with a circumstantial account of the barbarity he had practised against his nephew, for which he implored forgiveness, and begged he would give orders, that the orphan, when found, should inherit the dignities and fortune which he had unjustly usurped.
“In the course of these inquiries, several years passed: his uncle, who was very loyal to the House of Austria, lived in Barcelona when the father of this empress-queen resided there and lent him a significant amount of money during a critical time; and when that prince was about to return to Germany, the old count, realizing his time was running out, sent his priest to his majesty with a detailed account of the cruelty he had shown toward his nephew, for which he sought forgiveness and asked that arrangements be made for the orphan, once found, to inherit the titles and wealth that he had wrongfully taken.”
“His majesty assured the old man, that he might make himself easy on that score, and ordered the confessor to follow him to Vienna, immediately after the count's death, in order to assist his endeavours in finding out the injured heir. The priest did not fail to yield obedience to this command. He informed himself of certain natural marks on the young count's body, which were known to the nurse and women who attended him in his infancy; and, with a gentleman whom the emperor ordered to accompany him, set out for Bohemia, where he soon found the object of his inquiry, in the capacity of major-domo to a nobleman of that country, he having quitted his profession of surgery for that office.
“His majesty reassured the old man that he could relax about that and ordered the confessor to go with him to Vienna right after the count's death to help him find the wronged heir. The priest quickly complied with this order. He learned about certain birthmarks on the young count's body that were known to the nurse and the women who cared for him as a baby. Accompanied by a gentleman the emperor sent with him, he set off for Bohemia, where he soon located the person he was looking for, now working as a major-domo for a nobleman in that region, having left his surgery career for this position.
“He was not a little surprised, when he found himself circumstantially catechised about the particulars of his life, by persons commissioned for that purpose by the emperor. He told them, that he was absolutely ignorant of his own birth, though he had been informed, during his residence in Turkey, that he was the bastard of a Spanish grandee, and gave them a minute detail of the pilgrimage he had undergone. This information agreeing with the intelligence which the priest had already received, and being corroborated by the marks upon his body, and the very scars of the wounds which had been inflicted upon him in his infancy, the confessor, without further hesitation, saluted him by the name of Count d'Alvarez, grandee of Spain, and explained the whole mystery of his fortune.
He was quite surprised when he found himself being questioned about the details of his life by people sent by the emperor. He told them he had no idea about his own birth, although he had been told during his time in Turkey that he was the illegitimate son of a Spanish nobleman, and he shared a detailed account of the journey he had taken. This information matched what the priest had already learned and was confirmed by the marks on his body and the scars from wounds he had sustained as a child. The confessor, without any more hesitation, greeted him as Count d'Alvarez, a noble of Spain, and revealed the whole story of his fortune.
“If he was agreeably amazed at this explanation, the case was otherwise with his wife, who thought herself in great danger of being abandoned by a husband of such high rank; but he immediately dispelled her apprehension, by assuring her, that, as she had shared in his adversity, she should also partake of his good fortune. He set out immediately for Vienna, to make his acknowledgments to the emperor, who favoured him with a very gracious reception, promised to use his influence, so that he might enjoy the honours and estate of his family; and in the meantime acknowledged himself his debtor for four hundred thousand florins, which he had borrowed from his uncle. He threw himself at the feet of his august protector, expressed the most grateful sense of his goodness, and begged he might be permitted to settle in some of his imperial majesty's dominions. This request was immediately granted; he was allowed to purchase land in any part of the hereditary dominions of the house of Austria, to the amount of the sum I have mentioned; and made choice of the country of Ratibor, in Silesia, where, in all probability, he still resides.”
“If he was pleasantly surprised by this explanation, his wife felt quite the opposite, fearing she was in serious danger of being abandoned by a husband of such high status. However, he quickly eased her worries by assuring her that since she had shared in his hardships, she would also share in his good fortune. He set off right away for Vienna to thank the emperor, who welcomed him warmly and promised to use his influence to ensure he could enjoy his family's honors and estate. In the meantime, the emperor acknowledged that he owed him four hundred thousand florins, which he had borrowed from his uncle. He fell to his knees before his esteemed protector, expressed deep gratitude for his kindness, and requested permission to settle in one of his imperial majesty's territories. This request was immediately granted; he was permitted to purchase land anywhere in the hereditary realms of the House of Austria, up to the amount I mentioned, and he chose the region of Ratibor in Silesia, where he likely still resides.”
Peregrine had scarce finished the narrative, when he perceived Mr. M— slip something into the hand of the young man with whom he had been conversing at the other end of the room, and rise up from the table in order to take his leave. He at once understood the meaning of this conveyance, and longed for an opportunity to be acquainted with such a rare instance of primitive benevolence; but the consciousness of his present situation hindered him from making any advance that might be construed into forwardness or presumption.
Peregrine had barely finished the story when he noticed Mr. M— slipping something into the hand of the young man he had been talking to at the other end of the room and getting up from the table to take his leave. He immediately understood what this gesture meant and wished for a chance to connect with such a rare example of genuine kindness; however, the awareness of his current situation held him back from making any move that could be seen as intrusive or arrogant.
CHAPTER XCIX.
He is surprised with the Appearance of Hatchway and Pipes, who take up their Habitation in his Neighbourhood, contrary to his Inclination and express Desire.
He is surprised by the arrival of Hatchway and Pipes, who settle in his neighborhood against his wishes and clear desire.
Being now regularly initiated in the mysteries of the Fleet, and reconciled in some measure to the customs of the place, he began to bear the edge of reflection without wincing; and thinking it would be highly imprudent in him to defer any longer the purposes by which only he could enjoy any ease and satisfaction in his confinement, he resolved to resume his task of translating, and every week compose an occasional paper, by way of revenge upon the minister, against whom he had denounced eternal war. With this view, he locked himself up in his chamber, and went to work with great eagerness and application, when he was interrupted by a ticket porter, who, putting a letter in his hand, vanished in a moment, before he had time to peruse the contents.
Having now been properly initiated into the mysteries of the Fleet and somewhat adjusted to the local customs, he started to handle the weight of his thoughts without flinching. Realizing that it would be very unwise to delay any longer the plans that were his only source of comfort and satisfaction during his confinement, he decided to pick up his translating work again and write an occasional paper each week as a way to retaliate against the minister, whom he had vowed to fight against forever. With that in mind, he locked himself in his room and got to work with great enthusiasm and focus, when he was suddenly interrupted by a ticket porter who handed him a letter and disappeared before he could read what it said.
Our hero, opening the billet, was not a little surprised to find a bank-note for fifty pounds, enclosed in a blank sheet of paper; and, having exercised his memory and penetration on the subject of this unexpected windfall, had just concluded, that it could come from no other hand than the lady who had so kindly visited him a few days before, when his ears were suddenly invaded by the well-known sound of that whistle which always hung about the neck of Pipes, as a memorial of his former occupation. This tune being performed, he heard the noise of a wooden leg ascending the stair; upon which he opened his door, and beheld his friend Hatchway, with his old shipmate at his back.
Our hero, opening the letter, was quite surprised to find a fifty-pound banknote wrapped in a blank sheet of paper. After thinking hard about this unexpected windfall, he concluded that it could only have come from the lady who had kindly visited him a few days earlier. Just then, he heard the familiar sound of the whistle that always hung around Pipes' neck, a reminder of his past job. As the tune played, he heard the clatter of a wooden leg coming up the stairs, so he opened his door and saw his friend Hatchway with his old shipmate behind him.
After a cordial shake of the hand, with the usual salutation of, “What cheer, cousin Pickle?” honest Jack seated himself without ceremony; and casting his eyes around the apartment, “Split my top-staysail,” said he, with an arch sneer, “you have got into a snug berth, cousin. Here you may sit all weathers, without being turned out to take your watch, and no fear of the ship's dragging her anchor. You han't much room to spare, 'tis true: an' I had known as how you stowed so close, Tom should have slung my own hammock for you, and then you mought have knocked down this great lubberly hurricane house. But, mayhap, you turn in double, and so you don't choose to trust yourself and your doxy to a clue and canvas.”
After a friendly handshake, followed by the usual greeting of, “How's it going, cousin Pickle?” honest Jack took a seat casually. Looking around the room, he remarked with a teasing grin, “You've found yourself a cozy spot, cousin. Here you can relax no matter the weather, without having to get up for your shift, and you don’t have to worry about the ship dragging its anchor. It’s true you don’t have much extra space: if I had known you were packed in so tight, Tom should have hung my own hammock for you, and then you could have taken down this huge, clumsy hurricane shelter. But maybe you and your partner sleep in shifts, and that's why you don’t want to leave yourself and your lady exposed to an old piece of canvas.”
Pickle bore his jokes with great good-humour, rallied him in his turn about the dairy-maid at the garrison; inquiring about his friends in the country, asked if he had been to visit his niece, and, finally, expressed a desire of knowing the cause of his journey to London. The lieutenant satisfied his curiosity in all these particulars; and, in answer to the last question, observed that, from the information of Pipes, understanding he was land-locked, he had come from the country in order to tow him into the offing. “I know not how the wind sets,” said he, “but if so be as three thousand pounds will bring you clear of the cape, say the word, and you shan't lie wind-bound another glass for want of the money.”
Pickle took his jokes with great good humor, teased him back about the dairy maid at the garrison, asked about his friends in the countryside, wondered if he had visited his niece, and finally expressed a desire to know why he had traveled to London. The lieutenant satisfied his curiosity on all these points and, in response to the last question, mentioned that, according to Pipes, since he was stuck on land, he had come from the countryside to help him get out to sea. “I don't know how the wind's blowing,” he said, “but if three thousand pounds can get you past the cape, just say the word, and you won't be stuck here any longer for lack of money.”
This was an offer which few people in our hero's situation would have altogether refused, especially as he had all the reason in the world to believe, that, far from being a vain unmeaning compliment, it was the genuine tribute of friendship, which the lieutenant would have willingly, ay, and with pleasure, paid. Nevertheless, Peregrine peremptorily refused his assistance, though not without expressing himself in terms of acknowledgment suitable to the occasion. He told him, it would be time enough to make use of his generosity, when he should find himself destitute of all other resource. Jack employed all his rhetoric, with a view of persuading him to take this opportunity to procure his own enlargement; and, finding his arguments ineffectual, insisted upon his accepting an immediate supply for his necessary occasions; swearing with great vehemence, that he would never return to the garrison, unless he would put him upon the footing of any other tenant, and receive his rent accordingly.
This was an offer that few people in our hero's situation would have completely turned down, especially since he had every reason to believe that it wasn't just a meaningless compliment, but a true sign of friendship, which the lieutenant would have gladly offered, even happily. However, Peregrine firmly declined his help, though he made sure to express his gratitude appropriately for the occasion. He told him it would only be right to use his generosity when he found himself without any other options. Jack used all his persuasive skills to convince him to take this chance to secure his own freedom; when he saw his arguments weren't working, he insisted on giving him an immediate supply for his urgent needs, swearing passionately that he would never go back to the garrison unless he was treated like any other tenant and paid his rent accordingly.
Our young gentleman as positively swore, that he never would consider him in that light; remonstrating, that he had long ago settled the house upon him for life, as a pledge of his own esteem, as well as in conformity with the commodore's desire; and beseeching him to return to his usual avocations, protested that, if ever his situation should subject him to the necessity of borrowing from his friends, Mr. Hatchway should be the first man to whom he would apply himself for succour. To convince him that this was not the case at present, he produced the bank-note which he had received in the letter, together with his own ready money; and mentioned some other funds, which he invented extempore, in order to amuse the lieutenant's concern. In the close of this expostulation, he desired Pipes to conduct Mr. Hatchway to the coffee-house, where he might amuse himself with the newspaper for half an hour; during which he would put on his clothes, and bespeak something for dinner, that they might enjoy each other's company as long as his occasions would permit him to stay in that place.
Our young gentleman firmly insisted that he would never see him in that way, arguing that he had long ago given him the house for life as a sign of his own respect and in line with the commodore's wishes. He urged him to return to his usual activities and claimed that if he ever needed to borrow from his friends, Mr. Hatchway would be the first person he would turn to for support. To prove that this was not the case right now, he showed him the banknote he had received in the letter, along with his own cash, and mentioned some other funds he quickly made up to reassure the lieutenant. At the end of this discussion, he asked Pipes to take Mr. Hatchway to the coffee house, where he could pass the time reading the newspaper for half an hour while he got dressed and ordered something for dinner, so they could enjoy each other’s company for as long as he could stay there.
The two sailors were no sooner gone, than he took up the pen, and wrote the following letter, in which he enclosed the bank-note to his generous benefactress:
The two sailors had barely left when he picked up the pen and wrote the following letter, in which he included the bank note for his generous benefactor:
Madam,—Your humanity is not more ingenious than my
suspicion. In vain you attempt to impose upon me by an
act of generosity, which no person on earth but your
ladyship is capable of committing. Though your name was
not subscribed on the paper, your sentiments were fully
displayed in the contents, which I must beg leave to
restore, with the same sense of gratitude, and for the
same reasons I expressed when last I had the honour to
converse with you upon this subject. Though I am deprived
of my liberty by the villainy and ingratitude of mankind,
I am not yet destitute of the other conveniences of life;
and therefore beg to be excused for incurring an unnecessary
addition to that load of obligation you have already laid
upon, madam, your ladyship's most devoted, humble servant,
“Peregrine Pickle.”
Madam,—Your kindness isn’t more clever than my doubt. It's pointless for you to try to deceive me with an act of generosity that no one but you could pull off. Even though your name wasn't signed on the paper, your feelings were clearly expressed in its contents, which I must kindly return, with the same gratitude as I mentioned when I last had the honor of discussing this with you. Although I am deprived of my freedom due to the wickedness and ingratitude of others, I still enjoy some of the comforts of life; therefore, I ask to be excused for adding any unnecessary burden to the obligation you have already placed on me, madam, your most devoted and humble servant, “Peregrine Pickle.”
Having dressed himself, and repaired to the place of appointment, he despatched this epistle by the hands of Pipes, who was ordered to leave it at her ladyship's house, without staying for an answer; and in the meantime gave directions for dinner, which he and his friend Hatchway ate very cheerfully in his own apartment, after he had entertained him with a sight of all the curiosities in the place. During their repast, Jack repeated his kind offers to our adventurer, who declined them with his former obstinacy, and begged he might be no more importuned on that subject; but if he insisted upon giving some fresh proofs of his friendship, he might have an opportunity of exhibiting it in taking Pipes under his care and protection; for nothing affected him so much as his inability to provide for such a faithful adherent.
Having gotten dressed and gone to the meeting spot, he sent this letter through Pipes, who was instructed to drop it off at her ladyship's house without waiting for a response. In the meantime, he arranged for dinner, which he and his friend Hatchway enjoyed cheerfully in his own room after he showed him all the curiosities in the place. During their meal, Jack reiterated his generous offers to our adventurer, who stubbornly declined again and requested not to be bothered about it anymore. However, if Jack insisted on demonstrating his friendship in a different way, he could show it by taking care of Pipes; nothing troubled him more than his inability to support such a loyal companion.
The lieutenant desired he would give himself no trouble upon that score; he being, of his own accord, perfectly well disposed to befriend his old shipmate, who should never want while he had a shilling to spare. But he began to drop some hints of an intention to fix his quarters in the Fleet, observing, that the air seemed to be very good in that place, and that he was tired of living in the country. What he said did not amount to a plain declaration, and therefore Peregrine did not answer it as such, though he perceived his drift; and took an opportunity of describing the inconveniences of the place, in such a manner as, he hoped, would deter him from putting such an extravagant plan in execution.
The lieutenant wished he wouldn't worry about that; he was more than willing to help his old shipmate, who would never go without as long as he had even a little money to spare. However, he started dropping hints about wanting to settle in the Fleet, mentioning that the air there seemed nice and that he was tired of living in the countryside. What he said wasn't a direct statement, so Peregrine didn't respond to it as if it were, even though he understood what he meant. Instead, he took the chance to describe the downsides of the area in a way he hoped would convince him not to pursue such a ridiculous plan.
This expedient, however, far from answering the end proposed, had a quite contrary effect, and furnished Hatchway with an argument against his own unwillingness to quit such a disagreeable place. In all probability, Jack would have been more explicit with regard to the scheme he had proposed, if the conversation had not been interrupted by the arrival of Cadwallader, who never failed in the performance of his diurnal visit. Hatchway, conjecturing that this stranger might have some private business with his friend, quitted the apartment, on pretence of taking a turn; and meeting Pipes at the door, desired his company to the Bare, by which name the open space is distinguished; where, during a course of perambulation, these two companions held a council upon Pickle, in consequence of which it was determined, since he obstinately persisted to refuse their assistance, that they should take lodgings in his neighbourhood, with a view of being at hand to minister unto his occasions, in spite of his false delicacy, according to the emergency of his affairs.
This plan, however, instead of achieving its goal, had the opposite effect and gave Hatchway a reason to argue against his own reluctance to leave such an unpleasant place. Jack probably would have been more clear about the scheme he suggested if the conversation hadn't been interrupted by the arrival of Cadwallader, who always showed up for his daily visit. Hatchway, suspecting that this stranger might need to talk to his friend privately, left the room, saying he needed to take a stroll. When he met Pipes at the door, he invited him to the Bare, which is the name for the open space. While wandering around, the two friends discussed Pickle and decided that since he stubbornly refused their help, they should find a place to stay nearby so they could be available to assist him whenever he needed it, despite his false sense of modesty and the urgency of his situation.
This resolution being taken, they consulted the bar-keeper of the coffee-house about lodging, and she directed them to the warden; to whom the lieutenant, in his great wisdom, represented himself as a kinsman to Peregrine, who, rather than leave that young gentleman by himself to the unavoidable discomforts of a prison, was inclined to keep him company, till such time as his affairs could be put in order. This measure he the more anxiously desired to take, because the prisoner was sometimes subject to a disordered imagination, upon which occasion he stood in need of extraordinary attendance; and therefore he, the lieutenant, entreated the warden to accommodate him with a lodging for himself and his servant, for which he was ready to make any reasonable acknowledgment. The warden, who was a sensible and humane man, could not help applauding his resolution; and several rooms being at that time unoccupied, he put him immediately in possession of a couple, which were forthwith prepared for his reception.
After making this decision, they asked the barista at the coffee house about places to stay, and she directed them to the warden. The lieutenant, in his great wisdom, presented himself as a relative of Peregrine, saying that he didn’t want to leave the young man alone to face the inevitable discomforts of prison and was willing to keep him company until his situation could be sorted out. He felt especially compelled to do this because the prisoner sometimes struggled with a troubled mind, and during those times he needed extra care. Therefore, the lieutenant requested that the warden arrange accommodations for himself and his servant, offering to pay a reasonable fee for it. The warden, a sensible and kind man, couldn’t help but praise his decision. Since several rooms were available at the time, he immediately gave him access to a couple of them, which were quickly prepared for his stay.
This affair being settled to his satisfaction, he despatched Pipes for his portmanteau; and, returning to the coffee-house, found Peregrine, with whom he spent the remaining part of the evening. Our hero, taking it for granted that he proposed to set out for the garrison next day, wrote a memorandum of some books which he had left in that habitation, and which he now desired Jack to send up to town by the waggon, directed for Mr. Crabtree. He cautioned him against giving the least hint of his misfortune in the neighbourhood, that it might remain, as long as possible, concealed from the knowledge of his sister, who, he knew, would afflict herself immoderately at the news, nor reach the ears of the rest of his family, who would exult and triumph over his distress.
Once this matter was settled to his liking, he sent Pipes to fetch his suitcase. Returning to the coffee house, he found Peregrine, with whom he spent the rest of the evening. Our hero, assuming he planned to leave for the garrison the next day, jotted down a list of some books he had left at that place, which he now wanted Jack to send up to town by the wagon, addressed to Mr. Crabtree. He warned him not to give even the smallest hint about his misfortune in the area, so it could stay hidden for as long as possible from his sister, who he knew would be severely upset by the news, nor should it reach the ears of the rest of his family, who would gloat and revel in his misfortune.
Hatchway listened to his injunctions with great attention, and promised to demean himself accordingly. Then the discourse shifted to an agreeable recapitulation of the merry scenes they had formerly acted together. And the evening being pretty far advanced, Peregrine, with seeming reluctance, told him that the gates of the Fleet would in a few minutes be shut for the night, and that there was an absolute necessity for his withdrawing to his lodging. Jack replied, that he could not think of parting with him so soon, after such a long separation; and that he was determined to stay with him an hour or two longer, if he should be obliged to take up his lodging in the streets. Pickle, rather than disoblige his guest, indulged him in his desire and resolved to give him a share of his own bed. A pair of chickens and asparagus were bespoke for supper, at which Pipes attended with an air of internal satisfaction; and the bottle was bandied about in a jovial manner till midnight, when the lieutenant rose up to take his leave, observing, that, being fatigued with riding, he was inclined to turn in. Pipes, upon this intimation, produced a lanthorn ready lighted; and Jack, shaking his entertainer by the hand, wished him good night, and promised to visit him again betimes in the morning.
Hatchway listened to his instructions carefully and promised to act accordingly. Then the conversation switched to a pleasant recap of the fun times they had shared in the past. As the evening wore on, Peregrine, with a feigned reluctance, mentioned that the gates of the Fleet would close soon for the night, and it was necessary for him to head back to his lodging. Jack replied that he couldn’t imagine leaving him so soon after such a long time apart and insisted on staying another hour or two, even if it meant sleeping outside. Pickle, not wanting to upset his guest, agreed to share his bed. They ordered a couple of chickens and asparagus for dinner, which Pipes brought in with a pleased expression, and the bottle was passed around cheerfully until midnight. At that point, the lieutenant stood up to say goodbye, mentioning that he was tired from riding and ready to turn in. Pipes, hearing this, brought out a lit lantern, and Jack shook hands with his host, wished him good night, and promised to come over again early in the morning.
Peregrine, imagining that his behaviour proceeded from the wine, which he had plentifully drunk, told him, that, if he was disposed to sleep, his bed was ready prepared in the room, and ordered his attendant to undress his master; upon which Mr. Hatchway gave him to understand, that he had no occasion to incommode his friend, having already provided a lodging for himself, and the young gentleman demanding an explanation, he frankly owned what he had done, saying, “You gave me such a dismal account of the place, that I could not think of leaving you in it without company.” Our young gentleman, who was naturally impatient of benefits, and foresaw that this uncommon instance of Hatchway's friendship would encroach upon the plan which he had formed for his own subsistence, by engrossing his time and attention, so as that he should not be able to prosecute his labours, closeted the lieutenant next day, and demonstrated to him the folly and ill consequences of the step he had taken. He observed, that the world in general would look upon it as the effect of mere madness; and, if his relations were so disposed, they might make it the foundation for a statute of lunacy against him; that his absence from the garrison must be a very great detriment to his private affairs; and, lastly, that his presence in the Fleet would be a very great hindrance to Pickle himself, whose hope of regaining his liberty altogether depended upon his being detached from all company and interruption.
Peregrine, thinking that his behavior came from the wine he had drunk too much of, told him that if he wanted to sleep, his bed was all set up in the room and instructed his servant to undress his master. Mr. Hatchway then indicated that he didn’t need to trouble his friend since he had already arranged a place for himself. When the young gentleman asked for clarification, he openly admitted what he had done, saying, “You gave me such a grim description of the place that I couldn’t bear to leave you alone in it.” Our young gentleman, who was naturally uncomfortable with receiving favors and realized that this unusual act of Hatchway’s friendship would interfere with his own plans for self-sufficiency by consuming his time and focus, had a private talk with the lieutenant the next day. He pointed out the foolishness and negative consequences of Hatchway's decision. He noted that most people would see it as sheer madness, and if his relatives were inclined, they might use it as grounds for declaring him insane. He added that his absence from the garrison would seriously hurt his personal affairs and, finally, that his being in the Fleet would considerably hinder Pickle himself, whose hope of regaining his freedom depended entirely on being free from all company and interruption.
To these remonstrances Jack replied, that, as to the opinion of the world, it was no more to him than a rotten net-line; and if his relations had a mind to have his upper works condemned, he did not doubt but he should be able to stand the survey, without being declared unfit for service; that he had no affairs at the garrison, but such as would keep cold; and with regard to Pickle's being interrupted by his presence, he gave him his word, that he would never come alongside of him, except when he should give him the signal for holding discourse. In conclusion, he signified his resolution to stay where he was, at all events, without making himself accountable to any person, whatsoever.
To these complaints, Jack responded that the opinion of the world meant nothing to him, like a rotten fishing line; and if his family wanted to condemn his character, he was sure he could pass any inspection without being deemed unfit for duty. He mentioned that he had no business at the garrison other than those that would remain unresolved and assured Pickle that he would never approach him unless he signaled for a conversation. In the end, he indicated his determination to stay where he was, no matter what, without being accountable to anyone.
Peregrine seeing him determined, desisted from any further importunity; resolving, however, to tire him out of his plan by reserve and supercilious neglect; for he could not bear the thought of being so notoriously obliged by any person upon earth. With this view he quitted the lieutenant, upon some slight pretence; after having told him, that he could not have the pleasure of his company at dinner, because he was engaged with a particular club of his fellow-prisoners.
Peregrine, seeing him so determined, stopped pressing him further; however, he was resolved to wear him down with indifference and aloofness. He couldn't stand the idea of being obviously indebted to anyone. With this in mind, he left the lieutenant under some minor pretext, having told him that he couldn't enjoy his company at dinner because he was busy with a specific group of fellow prisoners.
Jack was a stranger to the punctilios of behaviour, and therefore did not take this declaration amiss; but had immediate recourse to the advice of his counsellor, Mr. Pipes, who proposed, that he should go to the coffee-house and kitchen, and give the people to understand that he would pay for all such liquor and provisions as Mr. Pickle should order to be sent to his lodging. This expedient was immediately practised; and as there was no credit in the place, Hatchway deposited a sum of money, by way of security, to the cook and the vintner, intimating, that there was a necessity for taking that method of befriending his cousin Peregrine, who was subject to strange whims, that rendered it impossible to serve him any other way.
Jack wasn't familiar with proper etiquette, so he didn't take this statement the wrong way; instead, he quickly turned to his advisor, Mr. Pipes, who suggested that Jack should go to the coffee house and kitchen and let everyone know he would cover any drinks and food that Mr. Pickle ordered to be sent to his place. This plan was put into action right away, and since there was no credit available, Hatchway left some cash as a security deposit with the cook and the innkeeper, explaining that this was necessary to help his cousin Peregrine, who had unusual quirks that made it impossible to assist him in any other manner.
In consequence of these insinuations, it was that same day rumoured about the Fleet, that Mr. Pickle was an unhappy gentleman disordered in his understanding, and that the lieutenant was his near relation, who had subjected himself to the inconvenience of living in a jail, with the sole view of keeping a strict eye over his conduct. This report, however, did not reach the ears of our hero till the next day, when he sent one of the runners of the Fleet, who attended him, to bespeak and pay for a couple of pullets, and something else for dinner, to which he had already invited his friend Hatchway, in hope of being able to persuade him to retire into the country, after he had undergone a whole day's mortification in the place. The messenger returned with an assurance, that the dinner should be made ready according to his directions, and restored the money, observing, that his kinsman had paid for what was bespoke.
Because of these rumors, that same day it spread around the Fleet that Mr. Pickle was an unhappy man with a troubled mind, and that the lieutenant was his close relative, who had willingly put himself in jail just to keep a close watch on him. However, our hero didn’t hear about this rumor until the next day, when he sent one of the runners at the Fleet, who worked for him, to order and pay for a couple of chickens and something else for dinner, which he had already invited his friend Hatchway to, hoping to convince him to get away to the country after enduring a whole day of discomfort in the place. The messenger returned with the assurance that dinner would be prepared as he instructed and gave back the money, saying that his relative had paid for the order.
Peregrine was equally surprised and disgusted at this information, and resolved to chide the lieutenant severely for his unseasonable treat, which he considered as a thing repugnant to his reputation. Meanwhile, he despatched his attendant for wine to the coffee-house, and finding his credit bolstered up in that place by the same means, was enraged at the presumption of Jack's friendship. He questioned the valet about it with such manifestation of displeasure, that the fellow, afraid of disobliging such a good master, frankly communicated the story which was circulated at his expense. The young gentleman was so much incensed at this piece of intelligence, that he wrote a bitter expostulation to the lieutenant, where he not only retracted his invitation, but declared that he would never converse with him while he should remain within the place.
Peregrine was both shocked and disgusted by this news, and decided to scold the lieutenant harshly for his inappropriate treat, which he saw as damaging to his reputation. In the meantime, he sent his servant to get wine from the coffee house, and when he found out his standing there was supported by the same means, he was furious at Jack's overstepping friendship. He asked the valet about it with such visible anger that the servant, scared of upsetting such a good master, openly shared the story that was going around at his expense. The young gentleman was so infuriated by this information that he wrote a harsh letter to the lieutenant, in which he not only withdrew his invitation but also declared that he would refuse to talk to him as long as he stayed in the area.
Having thus obeyed the dictates of his anger, he gave notice to the cook, that he should not have occasion for what was ordered. Repairing to the coffee-house, he told the landlord, that whereas he understood the stranger with the wooden leg had prepossessed him and others with ridiculous notions, tending to bring the sanity of his intellects in question, and, to confirm this imputation, had, under the pretence of consanguinity, undertaken to defray his expenses; he could not help, in justice to himself, declaring, that the same person was, in reality, the madman, who had given his keepers the slip; that, therefore, he, the landlord, would not find his account in complying with his orders, and encouraging him to frequent his house; and that, for his own part, he would never enter the door, or favour him with the least trifle of his custom, if ever he should for the future find himself anticipated in his payments by that unhappy lunatic.
Having given in to his anger, he informed the cook that he wouldn’t need what he had ordered. Heading to the coffee house, he told the landlord that he had heard the guy with the wooden leg had convinced him and others of some absurd ideas that questioned his sanity. To back this up, the man had, under the guise of being related, offered to pay for his expenses. He couldn’t help but, out of fairness to himself, declare that the same person was actually the madman who had escaped from his keepers. Therefore, the landlord shouldn’t expect any benefit from following his requests or allowing him to hang out at his place. As for him, he would never set foot inside again or give him even a small amount of his business if he ever found that crazy person covering his bills ahead of him again.
The vintner was confounded at this retorted charge; and, after much perplexity and deliberation, concluded, that both parties were distracted; the stranger in paying a man's debts against his will, and Pickle, in being offended at such forwardness of friendship.
The winemaker was baffled by this comeback; and after much confusion and thought, he decided that both sides were out of sorts: the stranger for paying a man's debts without his consent, and Pickle for being annoyed by such unsolicited friendliness.
CHAPTER C.
These Associates commit an Assault upon Crabtree, for which they are banished from the Fleet—Peregrine begins to feel the effects of Confinement.
These associates attack Crabtree, for which they are expelled from the Fleet—Peregrine starts to experience the impacts of confinement.
Our adventurer having dined at an ordinary, and in the afternoon retired to his own apartment, as usual, with his friend Cadwallader, Hatchway and his associate, after they had been obliged to discuss the provision for which they had paid, renewed their conference upon the old subject. Pipes giving his messmate to understand, that Peregrine's chief confidant was the old deaf bachelor, whom he had seen at his lodging the preceding day, Mr. Hatchway, in his great penetration, discovered, that the young gentleman's obstinacy proceeded from the advice of the misanthrope, whom, for that reason, it was their business to chastise. Pipes entered into this opinion the more willingly, as he had all along believed the senior to be a sort of wizard, or some cacodaemon, whom it was not very creditable to be acquainted with. Indeed, he had been inspired with this notion by the insinuations of Hadgi, who had formerly dropped some hints touching Crabtree's profound knowledge in the magic art; mentioning, in particular, his being possessed of the philosopher's stone; an assertion to which Tom had given implicit credit, until his master was sent to prison for debt, when he could no longer suppose Cadwallader lord of such a valuable secret, or else he would have certainly procured the enlargement of his most intimate friend.
Our adventurer had dinner at a pub and then returned to his room in the afternoon, as usual, with his friend Cadwallader. Hatchway and his buddy, after discussing the meal they had just paid for, resumed their conversation about the same old topic. Pipes let his friend know that Peregrine's main confidant was the old deaf bachelor he had seen at his place the day before. Mr. Hatchway, using his keen insight, figured out that the young man’s stubbornness came from the advice of the misanthrope, who, for that reason, they needed to deal with. Pipes was all for this idea since he had always thought of the old man as a kind of wizard or some evil spirit, which wasn’t exactly a good look to be associated with. In fact, he had been influenced by Hadgi, who had previously dropped hints about Crabtree's deep knowledge of magic, particularly mentioning that he possessed the philosopher's stone. Tom had believed this completely until his master was sent to prison for debt, which made him rethink whether Cadwallader really held such a valuable secret; otherwise, he would have definitely helped his closest friend out.
With these sentiments, he espoused the resentment of Hatchway. They determined to seize the supposed conjurer, with the first opportunity, on his return from his visit to Peregrine, and, without hesitation, exercise upon him the discipline of the pump. This plan they would have executed that same evening, had not the misanthrope luckily withdrawn himself, by accident, before it was dark, and even before they had intelligence of his retreat. But, next day, they kept themselves upon the watch till he appeared, and Pipes lifting his hat, as Crabtree passed, “O d— ye, old Dunny,” said he, “you and I must grapple by and by; and a'gad I shall lie so near your quarter, that your ear-ports will let in the sound, thof they are double caulked with oakum.”
Feeling this way, he shared Hatchway's resentment. They decided to capture the supposed magician the first chance they got when he returned from visiting Peregrine, and without a doubt, they would use the pump on him. They would have gone through with this plan that very evening, if the misanthrope hadn’t coincidentally left before it got dark, even before they knew he had gone. But the next day, they stayed alert until he showed up, and as Crabtree passed by, Pipes lifted his hat and said, “Oh damn you, old Dunny, you and I are going to have it out soon; and I swear I’ll be so close to your territory that even if your ears are tightly shut, you’ll hear me.”
The misanthrope's ears were not quite so fast closed, but that they received this intimation; which, though delivered in terms that he did not well understand, had such an effect upon his apprehension, that he signified his doubts to Peregrine, observing, that he did not much like the looks of that same ruffian with the wooden leg. Pickle assured him, he had nothing to fear from the two sailors, who could have no cause of resentment against him; or, if they had, would not venture to take any step, which they knew must block up all the avenues to that reconcilement, about which they were so anxious; and, moreover, give such offence to the governor of the place as would infallibly induce him to expel them both from his territories.
The misanthrope’s ears weren’t completely shut off, but they picked up this hint; which, even though it was expressed in a way he didn’t fully grasp, affected his understanding enough that he shared his concerns with Peregrine, mentioning that he was uneasy about that ruffian with the wooden leg. Pickle reassured him that he had nothing to worry about from the two sailors, who had no reason to hold a grudge against him; or, if they did, they wouldn’t dare take any action that would block any chance of reconciliation, which they were so eager for, and would also seriously anger the governor of the area, which would definitely lead to their expulsion from his lands.
Notwithstanding this assurance, the young gentleman was not so confident of the lieutenant's discretion, as to believe that Crabtree's fears were altogether without foundation; he forthwith conjectured that Jack had taken umbrage at an intimacy from which he found himself excluded, and imputed his disgrace to the insinuations of Cadwallader, whom, in all likelihood, he intended to punish for his supposed advice. He knew his friend could sustain no great damage from the lieutenant's resentment, in a place which he could immediately alarm with his cries, and therefore wished he might fall into the snare, because it would furnish him with a pretence of complaint; in consequence of which, the sailors would be obliged to shift their quarters, so as that he should be rid of their company, in which he at present could find no enjoyment.
Despite this reassurance, the young man wasn't so sure about the lieutenant's judgment that he believed Crabtree's worries were completely unfounded; he quickly suspected that Jack had taken offense at a closeness he felt left out of and blamed his bad standing on Cadwallader, whom he likely intended to punish for what he thought was bad advice. He realized his friend wouldn’t suffer too much from the lieutenant's anger in a place where he could easily raise an alarm, and so he hoped Jack would walk into the trap, since that would give him a reason to complain; as a result, the sailors would have to relocate, allowing him to shake off their company, which he currently found unbearable.
Everything happened as he had foreseen; the misanthrope, in his retreat from Peregrine's chamber, was assaulted by Hatchway and his associate, who seized him by the collar without ceremony, and began to drag him towards the pump, at which they would have certainly complimented him with a very disagreeable bath, had not he exalted his voice in such a manner, as in a moment brought a number of the inhabitants, and Pickle himself, to his aid. The assailants would have persisted in their design, had the opposition been such as they could have faced with any possibility of success; nor did they quit their prey, before a dozen, at least, had come to his rescue, and Peregrine with a menacing aspect and air of authority, commanded his old valet to withdraw. Then they thought proper to sheer off, and betake themselves to close quarters, while our hero accompanied the affrighted Cadwallader to the gate, and exhibited to the warden a formal complaint against the rioters, upon whom he retorted the charge of lunacy, which was supported by the evidence of twenty persons, who had been eye-witnesses of the outrage committed against the old gentleman. The governor, in consequence of this information, sent a message to Mr. Hatchway, warning him to move his lodging next day, on pain of being expelled. The lieutenant contumaciously refusing to comply with this intimation, was in the morning, while he amused himself in walking upon the Bare, suddenly surrounded by the constables of the court, who took him and his adherent prisoners, before they were aware, and delivered them into the hands of the turnkeys, by whom they were immediately dismissed, and their baggage conveyed to the side of the ditch.
Everything happened just as he had predicted; the misanthrope, leaving Peregrine's room, was confronted by Hatchway and his accomplice, who grabbed him by the collar without hesitation and started dragging him toward the pump, where they surely would have given him an unpleasant bath, if he hadn’t raised his voice, quickly bringing several townsfolk and Pickle himself to help. The attackers would have gone ahead with their plan if they thought they could succeed against the opposition; they didn’t give up their target until at least a dozen people showed up to help, and Peregrine, looking threatening and authoritative, ordered his old valet to step back. At that point, they decided to back off and retreat, while our hero escorted the terrified Cadwallader to the gate and presented a formal complaint to the warden against the rioters, whom he accused of insanity, supported by the eyewitness accounts of twenty people who had seen the assault on the old gentleman. After hearing this, the governor sent a message to Mr. Hatchway, warning him to move out the next day or face expulsion. The lieutenant stubbornly refused to follow this warning and, the next morning while he was walking on the Bare, was suddenly surrounded by the court constables, who took him and his companion into custody before they even realized it, and handed them over to the turnkeys, who promptly released them and had their belongings taken to the edge of the ditch.
This expulsion was not performed without an obstinate opposition on the part of the delinquents, who, had they not been surprised, would have set the whole Fleet at defiance, and, in all probability, have acted divers tragedies, before they could have been overpowered. Things being circumstanced as they were, the lieutenant did not part with his conductor without tweaking his nose, by way of farewell; and Pipes, in imitation of such a laudable example, communicated a token of remembrance, in an application to the sole eye of his attendant, who, scorning to be outdone in this kind of courtesy, returned the compliment with such good-will, that Tom's organ performed the office of a multiplying-glass. These were mutual hints for stripping, and, accordingly, each was naked from the waist upwards in a trice. A ring of butchers from the market was immediately formed; a couple of the reverend flamens, who, in morning gowns, ply for marriages in that quarter of the town, constituted themselves seconds and umpires of the approaching contest, and the battle began without further preparation. The combatants were, in point of strength and agility, pretty equally matched; but the jailor had been regularly trained in the art of bruising: he had more than once signalized himself in public, by his prowess and skill in this exercise, and lost one eye upon the stage in the course of his exploits. This was a misfortune of which Pipes did not fail to take the advantage. He had already sustained several hard knocks upon his temples and jaws, and found it impracticable to smite his antagonist upon the victualling-office, so dexterously was it defended against assault. He then changed his battery, and being ambidexter, raised such a clatter upon the turnkey's blind side, that this hero, believing him left-handed, converted his attention that way, and opposed the unenlightened side of his face to the right hand of Pipes, which being thus unprovided against, slyly bestowed upon him a peg under the fifth rib, that in an instant laid him senseless on the pavement, at the feet of his conqueror. Pipes was congratulated upon his victory, not only by his friend Hatchway, but also by all the by-standers, particularly the priest who had espoused his cause, and now invited the strangers to his lodgings in a neighbouring alehouse, where they were entertained so much to their liking, that they determined to seek no other habitation while they should continue in town; and, notwithstanding the disgrace and discouragement they had met with, in their endeavours to serve our adventurer, they were still resolved to persevere in their good offices, or, in the vulgar phrase, to see him out.
This expulsion wasn’t carried out without stubborn resistance from the culprits, who, if they hadn’t been caught off guard, would have openly defied the entire Fleet and probably staged various dramas before they could be subdued. Given the situation, the lieutenant didn’t say goodbye to his escort without playfully tweaking his nose, as a farewell; and Pipes, mimicking this admirable gesture, sent a reminder by poking the sole eye of his attendant, who, refusing to be outdone in this kind of courtesy, responded with such enthusiasm that Tom’s organ functioned like a magnifying glass. These were mutual signals to undress, and accordingly, each was bare from the waist up in no time. A group of butchers from the market quickly gathered; a couple of local priests, who were known for conducting marriages in that part of town, volunteered themselves as seconds and referees for the upcoming fight, and the battle began without any further delay. The fighters were fairly evenly matched in strength and agility, but the jailer had been properly trained in the art of fighting: he had previously made a name for himself in public by his skill and lost one eye in the process. This was a misfortune that Pipes didn’t hesitate to exploit. He had already taken several hard hits to his head and jaw and found it impossible to strike his opponent on the stomach, as it was so well defended. He then switched his strategy, and being equally skilled with both hands, unleashed a flurry of blows on the jailer's blind side. Believing Pipes was left-handed, the jailer focused his attention there, leaving the unprotected side of his face vulnerable to Pipes' right hand, which slyly landed a punch under the fifth rib, instantly knocking him out on the pavement at his conqueror’s feet. Pipes was celebrated for his victory, not only by his friend Hatchway but also by all the onlookers, especially the priest who supported him, who then invited everyone to his lodgings at a nearby tavern, where they were treated so well that they decided to stay there for the rest of their time in town. Despite the disgrace and setbacks they faced while trying to help our adventurer, they were still determined to continue their support or, in simpler terms, to see him through.
While they settled themselves in this manner, and acquired familiar connections round all the purlieus of the ditch, Peregrine found himself deprived of the company of Cadwallader, who signified, by letter, that he did not choose to hazard his person again in visiting him, while such assassins occupied the avenues through which he must pass; for he had been at pains to inquire into the motions of the seamen, and informed himself exactly of the harbour in which they were moored.
While they got comfortable this way and built connections around the areas of the ditch, Peregrine realized that Cadwallader had stopped visiting him. Cadwallader sent a letter saying he didn't want to risk his safety by coming to see him while such dangerous people were around, since he had taken the time to look into the movements of the sailors and found out exactly where their ship was docked.
Our hero had been so much accustomed to the conversation of Crabtree, which was altogether suitable to the singularity of his own disposition, that he could very ill afford to be debarred of it at this juncture, when almost every other source of enjoyment was stopped. He was, however, obliged to submit to the hardships of his situation; and as the characters of his fellow-prisoners did not at all improve upon him, he was compelled to seek for satisfaction within himself. Not but that he had an opportunity of conversing with some people who neither wanted sense, nor were deficient in point of principle; yet there appeared in the behaviour of them all, without exception, a certain want of decorum, a squalor of sentiment, a sort of jailish cast contracted in the course of confinement, which disgusted the delicacy of our hero's observation. He, therefore, detached himself from their parties as much as he could, without giving offence to those among whom he was obliged to live, and resumed his labours with incredible eagerness and perseverance, his spirits being supported by the success of some severe philippics, which he occasionally published against the author of his misfortune.
Our hero had become so used to talking with Crabtree, which suited his unique personality, that he could hardly bear to be without that conversation now, especially since almost every other source of enjoyment was blocked. However, he had to endure the hardships of his situation; and since the characters of his fellow prisoners didn’t improve his mood, he was forced to find satisfaction within himself. Although he had the chance to talk with some people who were neither lacking in sense nor in principles, there was a certain lack of decorum in their behavior, a griminess of sentiment, a kind of prison-like attitude that they had developed during their confinement, which repulsed our hero’s refined sensibilities. Therefore, he distanced himself from their groups as much as he could without offending those he had to live among, and he dove back into his work with incredible eagerness and perseverance, keeping his spirits up by the success of some sharp critiques he sometimes published against the person responsible for his troubles.
Nor was his humanity unemployed in the vacations of his revenge. A man must be void of all sympathy and compassion, who can reside among so many miserable objects, without feeling an inclination to relieve their distress. Every day almost presented to his view such lamentable scenes as were most likely to attract his notice, and engage his benevolence. Reverses of fortune, attended with the most deplorable circumstances of domestic woe, were continually intruding upon his acquaintance; his ears were invaded with the cries of the hapless wife, who, from the enjoyment of affluence and pleasure, was forced to follow her husband to this abode of wretchedness and want; his eyes were every minute assailed with the naked and meagre appearances of hunger and cold; and his fancy teemed with a thousand aggravations of their misery.
Nor was his humanity idle during his moments of revenge. A person must lack all sympathy and compassion to live among so many suffering individuals without feeling the urge to help alleviate their pain. Almost every day, he encountered such heartbreaking scenes that were bound to catch his attention and stir his kindness. Downturns of fate, accompanied by the most tragic circumstances of family distress, were constantly intruding into his life; his ears were filled with the cries of the unfortunate wife, who, once living in comfort and joy, was now forced to follow her husband to this place of misery and need; his eyes were continually confronted with the thin and frail figures of hunger and cold; and his mind was flooded with countless reminders of their suffering.
Thus situated, his purse was never shut while his heart remained open. Without reflecting upon the slenderness of his store, he exercised his charity to all the children of distress, and acquired a popularity, which, though pleasing, was far from being profitable. In short, his bounty kept no pace with his circumstances, and in a little time he was utterly exhausted. He had recourse to his bookseller, from whom, with great difficulty, he obtained a small reinforcement; and immediately relapsed into the same want of retention. He was conscious of his infirmity, and found it incurable: he foresaw that by his own industry he should never be able to defray the expense of these occasions; and this reflection sunk deep into his mind. The approbation of the public, which he had earned or might acquire like a cordial often repeated, began to lose its effect upon his imagination; his health suffered by his sedentary life and austere application, his eyesight failed, his appetite forsook him, his spirits decayed; so that he became melancholy, listless, and altogether incapable of prosecuting the only means he had left for his subsistence; and, what did not at all contribute to the alleviation of these particulars, he was given to understand by his lawyer, that he had lost his cause, and was condemned in costs. Even this was not the most mortifying piece of intelligence he received: he at the same time learned that his bookseller was bankrupt, and his friend Crabtree at the point of death.
In this situation, his wallet was always open as long as his heart was too. Without thinking about how little he had, he generously helped all the needy children around him, gaining a popularity that felt good but wasn't financially rewarding. In short, his generosity was way out of sync with his finances, and before long, he was completely drained. He turned to his bookseller, from whom he managed to get a small cash infusion with great difficulty, but soon fell back into the same cycle of being unable to hold onto money. He was aware of his weakness and realized it was hopeless; he knew he could never cover the costs of these situations through his own efforts, and this thought weighed heavily on him. The public approval he had earned—like an often-repeated tonic—started to lose its impact on his imagination. His health suffered from his sedentary lifestyle and strict focus; he lost his eyesight, his appetite disappeared, and his mood soured, leaving him feeling depressed, unfocused, and completely unable to pursue the only way left for him to support himself. To make matters worse, his lawyer informed him that he had lost his case and was responsible for the costs. But that wasn’t even the worst news; he also learned that his bookseller had gone bankrupt and that his friend Crabtree was on his deathbed.
These were comfortable considerations to a youth of Peregrine's disposition, which was so capricious, that the more his misery increased, the more haughty and inflexible he became. Rather than be beholden to Hatchway, who still hovered about the gate, eager for an opportunity to assist him, he chose to undergo the want of almost every convenience of life, and actually pledged his wearing apparel to an Irish pawnbroker in the Fleet, for money to purchase those things, without which he must have absolutely perished. He was gradually irritated by his misfortunes into a rancorous resentment against mankind in general, and his heart so alienated from the enjoyments of life, that he did not care how soon he quitted his miserable existence. Though he had shocking examples of the vicissitudes of fortune continually before his eyes, he could never be reconciled to the idea of living like his fellow-sufferers, in the most abject degree of dependence. If he refused to accept of favours from his own allies and intimate friends, whom he had formerly obliged, it is not to be supposed that he would listen to proposals of that kind from any of his fellow-prisoners, with whom he had contracted acquaintance: he was even more cautious than ever of incurring obligations; he now shunned his former messmates, in order to avoid disagreeable tenders of friendship. Imagining that he perceived an inclination in the clergyman to learn the state of his finances, he discouraged and declined the explanation, and at length secluded himself from all society.
These were comforting thoughts for a young man like Peregrine, who was so unpredictable that the more his suffering grew, the prouder and more unyielding he became. Rather than rely on Hatchway, who was still lingering by the gate, eager to help him, he preferred to endure a lack of nearly all life's necessities, even pawning his clothes to an Irish pawnbroker in the Fleet for cash to buy essentials he needed to survive. His misfortunes gradually stirred up a deep resentment towards humanity in general, and he became so detached from life's pleasures that he didn't care how soon he left his miserable existence. Although he constantly saw terrible examples of the ups and downs of fate, he could never accept living like his fellow sufferers, in the lowest state of dependency. If he refused help from his own friends and allies, whom he had previously assisted, it's unlikely he would entertain such offers from any of his fellow prisoners, with whom he had formed acquaintances: he became even more careful than ever to avoid obligations. He now avoided his former companions to sidestep uncomfortable offers of friendship. Sensing that the clergyman was interested in his financial situation, he discouraged and declined to discuss it and ultimately isolated himself from all social interactions.
CHAPTER CI.
He receives an unexpected Visit; and the Clouds of Misfortune begin to separate.
He gets an unexpected visit, and the clouds of misfortune start to clear.
While he pined in this forlorn condition, with an equal abhorrence of the world and himself, Captain Gauntlet arrived in town in order to employ his interest for promotion in the army; and in consequence of his wife's particular desire, made it his business to inquire for Peregrine, to whom he longed to be reconciled, even though at the expense of a slight submission. But he could hear no tidings of him, at the place to which he was directed; and, on the supposition that our hero had gone to reside in the country, applied himself to his own business, with intention to renew his inquiries, after that affair should be transacted. He communicated his demands to his supposed patron, who had assumed the merit of making him a captain, and been gratified with a valuable present on that consideration; and was cajoled with hopes of succeeding in his present aim by the same interest.
While he suffered in this miserable state, feeling equal hatred for the world and himself, Captain Gauntlet came to town to use his connections for a promotion in the army. Acting on his wife’s specific request, he took it upon himself to ask about Peregrine, whom he wanted to reconcile with, even if it meant a bit of humility on his part. However, he couldn’t find any news of him at the location he was given; and assuming that our hero had moved to the countryside, he focused on his own affairs, planning to ask again once that was settled. He shared his needs with his supposed patron, who had taken credit for making him a captain and received a valuable gift on that basis; and he was lured with promises of achieving his current goal through that same connection.
Meanwhile, he became acquainted with one of the clerks belonging to the War Office, whose advice and assistance, he was told, would be a furtherance to his scheme. As he had occasion to discourse with this gentleman upon the circumstances of his expectation, he learned that the nobleman, upon whom he depended, was a person of no consequence in the state, and altogether incapable of assisting him in his advancement. At the same time, his counsellor expressed his surprise that Captain Gauntlet did not rather interest in his cause the noble peer to whose good offices he owed his last commission.
Meanwhile, he got to know one of the clerks from the War Office, who was said to be able to help him with his plans. When he talked with this gentleman about his hopes, he found out that the nobleman he relied on was actually insignificant in the government and completely unable to help him move forward. At the same time, his advisor was surprised that Captain Gauntlet hadn’t tried to engage the noble peer who had helped him land his last commission in his cause.
This remark introduced an explanation, by which Godfrey discovered, to his infinite astonishment, the mistake in which he had continued so long with regard to his patron; though he could not divine the motive which induced a nobleman, with whom he had no acquaintance or connection, to interpose his influence in his behalf. Whatsoever that might be, he thought it was his duty to make his acknowledgment; and for that purpose went next morning to his house, where he was politely received, and given to understand that Mr. Pickle was the person to whose friendship he was indebted for his last promotion.
This comment led to an explanation, through which Godfrey found out, to his great surprise, the misunderstanding he had held for so long about his benefactor. He couldn't understand why a nobleman, with whom he had no familiarity or connection, would use his influence to help him. Whatever the reason might be, he felt it was his responsibility to express his gratitude. So, the next morning, he went to the nobleman's house, where he was welcomed kindly and informed that Mr. Pickle was the person he owed his recent promotion to.
Inexpressible were the transports of gratitude, affection, and remorse that took possession of the soul of Gauntlet, when this mystery was unfolded. “Good Heaven!” cried he, lifting up his hands, “have I lived so long in a state of animosity with my benefactor? I intended to have reconciled myself at any rate before I was sensible of this obligation, but now I shall not enjoy a moment's quiet until I have an opportunity of expressing to him my sense of his heroic friendship. I presume, from the nature of the favour conferred upon him in my behalf, that Mr. Pickle is well known to your lordship; and I should think myself extremely happy if you could inform me in what part of the country he is to be found; for the person with whom he lodged some time ago could give me no intelligence of his motions.”
The feelings of gratitude, love, and regret that filled Gauntlet's heart when this mystery was revealed were beyond words. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed, raising his hands, “have I really spent so long at odds with my benefactor? I had planned to make amends before I even realized this debt, but now I won't find peace until I get the chance to show him how much I appreciate his incredible friendship. I assume, given the nature of the favor he did for me, that Mr. Pickle is well known to you, my lord; I would be very grateful if you could let me know where he is currently located, as the person he stayed with some time ago was unable to provide me with any information on his whereabouts.”
The nobleman, touched with this instance of generous self-denial in Peregrine, as well as with the sensibility of his friend, lamented the unhappiness of our hero, while he gave Gauntlet to understand that he had been long disordered in his intellects, in consequence of having squandered away his fortune; and that his creditors had thrown him into the Fleet prison; but whether he still continued in that confinement, or was released from his misfortunes by death, his lordship did not know, because he had never inquired.
The nobleman, moved by Peregrine’s act of selflessness and his friend's empathy, expressed sympathy for our hero's misfortunes. He informed Gauntlet that Peregrine had long been struggling with his mental health due to wasting his fortune, which led his creditors to throw him into the Fleet prison. However, he was unsure if he was still imprisoned or had escaped his troubles through death, as he had never bothered to find out.
Godfrey no sooner received this intimation, than, his blood boiling with grief and impatience, he craved pardon for his abrupt departure; then quitting his informer on the instant, re-embarked in his hackney-coach, and ordered himself to be conveyed directly to the Fleet. As the vehicle proceeded along one side of the market, he was surprised with the appearance of Hatchway and Pipes, who stood cheapening cauliflowers at a green-stall, their heads being cased in worsted nightcaps, half covered with their hats, and a short tobacco-pipe in the mouth of each. He was rejoiced at sight of the two seamen, which he took for a happy omen of finding his friend, and, ordering the coachman to stop the carriage, called to the lieutenant by his name. Jack replying with an hilloah, looking behind him, and recognizing the face of his old acquaintance, ran up to the coach with great eagerness. Shaking the captain heartily by the hand, “Odds heart!” said he, “I am glad thou hast fallen in with us; we shall now be able to find the trim of the vessel, and lay her about on t'other tack. For my own part, I have had many a consort in my time, that is, in the way of good fellowship, and I always made a shift to ware 'em at one time or another. But this headstrong toad will neither obey the helm nor the sheet; and for aught I know, will founder where a lies at anchor.”
Godfrey barely got the news before his blood boiled with grief and impatience. He apologized for his sudden departure, then left his informant immediately, got back into his hackney-coach, and instructed the driver to take him straight to the Fleet. As they made their way along one side of the market, he was surprised to see Hatchway and Pipes, who were haggling over cauliflowers at a green stall, their heads in worsted nightcaps, partially hidden by their hats, and each with a short tobacco pipe in their mouths. He felt relieved to see the two sailors, considering it a good sign for finding his friend. He told the coachman to stop the carriage and called out to the lieutenant by name. Jack responded with a cheerful greeting, turned around, recognized his old friend, and hurried over to the coach with enthusiasm. Shaking hands with the captain warmly, he exclaimed, “Odds heart! I’m glad you ran into us; we’ll now be able to figure out the ship’s condition and set her on the other course. Personally, I’ve had plenty of shipmates before, in a friendly way, and I always managed to steer them through one situation or another. But this stubborn creature won’t listen to the helm or the sheet; for all I know, it’ll sink right where it’s anchored.”
Gauntlet, who conceived part of his meaning, alighted immediately; and being conducted to the sailor's lodging, was informed of everything that had passed between the lieutenant and Pickle. He, in his turn, communicated to Jack the discovery which he had made, with regard to his commission; at which the other gave no signs of surprise, but, taking the pipe from his mouth, “Why look ye, captain,” said he, “that's not the only good turn you have owed him. That same money you received from the commodore as an old debt was all a sham, contrived by Pickle for your service; but a wool drive under his bare poles without sails and rigging, or a mess of provision on board, rather than take the same assistance from another man.”
Gauntlet, who got part of his meaning, arrived right away; and after being taken to the sailor's place, he learned everything that had happened between the lieutenant and Pickle. He then shared with Jack the discovery he made about his commission; Jack showed no surprise but, taking the pipe from his mouth, said, “Look, captain, that's not the only favor you owe him. That money you got from the commodore as an old debt was just a trick set up by Pickle for your benefit; he'd prefer to go without sails and rigging or even food on board than accept that kind of help from anyone else.”
Godfrey was not only amazed, but chagrined at the knowledge of this anecdote; which gave umbrage to his pride, while it stimulated his desire of doing something in return for the obligation. He inquired into the present circumstances of the prisoner; and understanding that he was indisposed, and but indifferently provided with the common necessaries of life, though still deaf to all offers of assistance, began to be extremely concerned at the account of this savage obstinacy and pride, which would, he feared, exclude him from the privilege of relieving him in his distress. However, he resolved to leave no expedient untried, that might have any tendency to surmount such destructive prejudice; and entering the jail, was directed to the apartment of the wretched prisoner. He knocked softly at the door, and, when it was opened, started back with horror and astonishment. The figure that presented itself to his view was the remains of his once happy friend; but so miserably altered and disguised, that his features were scarce cognisable. The florid, the sprightly, the gay, the elevated youth, was now metamorphosed into a wan, dejected, meagre, squalid spectre; the hollow-eyed representative of distemper, indigence, and despair. Yet his eyes retained a certain ferocity, which threw a dismal gleam athwart the cloudiness of his aspect, and he, in silence, viewed his old companion with a look betokening confusion and disdain. As for Gauntlet, he could not, without emotion, behold such a woeful reverse of fate, in a person for whom he entertained the noblest sentiments of friendship, gratitude, and esteem; his sorrow was at first too big for utterance, and he shed a flood of tears before he could pronounce one word.
Godfrey was not only shocked but also frustrated by learning about this story; it hurt his pride while igniting his desire to give something back for the favor. He looked into the current situation of the prisoner and found out that he was unwell and barely had the basic necessities of life, still stubbornly refusing any help. This made Godfrey very worried about the prisoner’s harsh stubbornness and pride, which he feared would prevent him from being able to help him in his time of need. However, he decided to try every possible way to overcome such destructive prejudice. Entering the jail, he was directed to the room of the miserable prisoner. He knocked softly on the door, and when it opened, he gasped in horror and disbelief. The person before him was the remains of his once-happy friend, so horribly changed that he could hardly recognize him. The lively, cheerful, and spirited young man was now transformed into a pale, dejected, emaciated shadow, the hollow-eyed embodiment of illness, poverty, and despair. Yet his eyes still held a certain fierceness that cast a gloomy light on the darkness of his expression, and he silently regarded his old friend with a look of confusion and disdain. As for Gauntlet, he couldn't help but feel emotional seeing such a tragic turn of events for someone he held in the highest regard, with feelings of friendship, gratitude, and esteem. His sorrow was initially too overwhelming for words, and he cried uncontrollably before he could even speak.
Peregrine, in spite of his misanthropy, could not help being affected with this uncommon testimony of regard; but he strove to stifle his sensations. His brows contracted themselves into a severe frown; his eyes kindled into the appearance of live coals. He waved with his hand in signal for Godfrey to be gone, and leave such a wretch as him to the miseries of his fate; and, finding nature too strong to be suppressed, uttered a deep groan, and wept aloud.
Peregrine, despite his dislike for people, couldn't help but be moved by this rare show of affection; however, he tried to push his feelings down. His brows furrowed into a harsh frown, and his eyes burned like live coals. He gestured with his hand for Godfrey to leave him to the miseries of his fate. But as he struggled to keep his emotions in check, he let out a deep groan and cried openly.
The soldier, seeing him thus melted, unable to restrain the strong impulse of his affection, sprung towards, and clasping him in his arms, “My dearest friend, and best benefactor,” said he, “I am come hither to humble myself for the offence I was so unhappy as to give at our last parting; to beg a reconciliation, to thank you for the case and affluence I have enjoyed through your means, and to rescue you, in spite of yourself, from this melancholy situation; of which, but an hour ago, I was utterly ignorant. Do not deny me the satisfaction of acquitting myself in point of duty and obligation. You must certainly have had some regard for a person in whose favour you have exerted yourself so much; and if any part of that esteem remains, you will not refuse him an opportunity of approving himself in some measure worthy of it. Let me not suffer the most mortifying of all repulses, that of slighted friendship; but kindly sacrifice your resentment and inflexibility to the request of one who is at all times ready to sacrifice his life for your honour and advantage. If you will not yield to my entreaties, have some regard to the wishes of my Sophy, who laid me under the strongest injunctions to solicit your forgiveness, even before she knew how much I was indebted to your generosity; or, if that consideration should be of no weight, I hope you will relax a little for the sake of poor Emilia, whose resentment hath been long subdued by her affection, and who now droops in secret at your neglect.”
The soldier, seeing him in such distress, unable to hold back his strong feelings, rushed over and embraced him, saying, “My dearest friend and greatest supporter, I’ve come here to humble myself for the mistake I made at our last goodbye; to ask for reconciliation, to thank you for the comfort and prosperity I’ve enjoyed because of you, and to rescue you, despite yourself, from this sad situation that, just an hour ago, I was completely unaware of. Please don’t deny me the chance to fulfill my duty and obligations. You must have some regard for the person you’ve worked so hard to help; if any part of that respect still exists, you won’t deny me the opportunity to prove I’m worthy of it. Don’t make me face the most humiliating rejection of all, that of a friendship disregarded; but please, let go of your anger and stubbornness for the sake of someone who would always sacrifice his life for your honor and well-being. If you won’t respond to my pleas, think of my Sophy, who has firmly insisted that I seek your forgiveness, even before she understood how much I owe to your kindness; or, if that doesn’t carry weight for you, I hope you will soften a bit for the sake of poor Emilia, whose anger has long been hidden by her affection and who now quietly suffers from your neglect.”
Every word of this address, delivered in the most pathetic manner, made an impression upon the mind of Peregrine. He was affected with the submission of his friend, who, in reality, had given him no just cause to complain. He knew that no ordinary motive had swayed him to a condescension so extraordinary in a man of his punctilious temper. He considered it, therefore, as the genuine effect of eager gratitude and disinterested love, and his heart began to relent accordingly. When he heard himself conjured in the name of the gentle Sophy, his obstinacy was quite overcome; and when Emilia was recalled to his remembrance, his whole frame underwent a violent agitation. He took his friend by the hand, with a softened look; and, as soon as he recovered the faculty of speech, which had been overpowered in the conflict of passions that transported him, protested, that he retained no vestige of animosity, but considered him in the light of an affectionate comrade, the ties of whose friendship adversity could not unbind. He mentioned Sophy in the most respectful terms; spoke of Emilia with the most reverential awe, as the object of his inviolable love and veneration; but disclaimed all hope of ever more attracting her regard, and excused himself from profiting by Godfrey's kind intention; declaring, with a resolute air, that he had broken off all connection with mankind, and that he impatiently longed for the hour of his dissolution, which, if it should not soon arrive by the course of nature, he was resolved to hasten with his own hands, rather than be exposed to the contempt, and more intolerable pity, of a rascally world.
Every word of this speech, delivered in the most heartbreaking way, left a mark on Peregrine’s mind. He was moved by his friend's humility, who, in reality, hadn’t given him any real reason to complain. He understood that no ordinary reason had driven him to such unusual behavior for someone so particular. He saw it as a true expression of deep gratitude and selfless love, and his heart started to soften because of it. When he heard himself called upon in the name of the gentle Sophy, his stubbornness was completely overcome; and when he thought of Emilia, his entire body experienced a strong emotional turmoil. He took his friend’s hand with a softened expression; and as soon as he regained his ability to speak, which had been overwhelmed by the conflict of emotions, he insisted that he held no lingering resentment, seeing him instead as a caring companion, whose bond of friendship could not be broken by hardship. He spoke of Sophy with the utmost respect; spoke of Emilia with deep admiration, as the object of his unwavering love and reverence; but he dismissed any hope of ever winning her affection again, and declined to take advantage of Godfrey’s kind intentions, declaring firmly that he had cut off all ties with humanity, and that he was eagerly awaiting the moment of his death, which, if it didn’t come soon naturally, he was determined to hasten with his own hands, rather than face the scorn and even more unbearable pity of a contemptible world.
Gauntlet argued against this frantic determination with all the vehemence of expostulating friendship; but his remonstrances did not produce the desired effect upon our desperate hero, who calmly refuted all his arguments, and asserted the rectitude of his design from the pretended maxims of reason and true philosophy. While this dispute was carried on with eagerness on one side, and deliberation on the other, a letter was brought to Peregrine, who threw it carelessly aside unopened, though the superscription was in a handwriting to which he was a stranger; and, in all probability, the contents would never have been perused, had not Gauntlet insisted upon his waiving all ceremony, and reading it forthwith. Thus solicited, Pickle unsealed the billet, which, to his no small surprise, contained the following intimation:—
Gauntlet argued against this frantic determination with all the intensity of a concerned friend; however, his objections didn't sway our desperate hero, who calmly dismissed all his points and defended the rightness of his plan using supposed principles of reason and true philosophy. While this heated debate unfolded on one side and with calm consideration on the other, a letter was delivered to Peregrine, who carelessly set it aside unopened, even though the address was in a handwriting he didn't recognize. Most likely, he would never have read the contents if Gauntlet hadn't insisted that he skip any formality and read it immediately. Prompted by this, Pickle unsealed the letter, which, to his great surprise, contained the following message:—
Sir,—This comes to inform you, that, after many dangers
and disappointments, I am, by the blessing of God, safely
arrived in the Downs, on board of the Gomberoon Indiaman,
having made a tolerable voyage; by which I hope I shall be
enabled to repay, with interest, the seven hundred pounds
which I borrowed of you before my departure from England.
I take this opportunity of writing by our purser, who goes
express with despatches for the Company, that you may have
this satisfactory notice as soon as possible, relating to
one whom I suppose you have long given over as lost. I have
enclosed it in a letter to my broker, who, I hope, knows
your address, and will forward it accordingly. And I am,
with respect, Sir, your most humble servant,
“Benjamin Chintz.”
Sir,—I’m writing to let you know that, after many dangers and setbacks, I have, thanks to God, safely arrived in the Downs aboard the Gomberoon Indiaman, having had a decent voyage. I hope to be able to repay, with interest, the seven hundred pounds I borrowed from you before I left England. I’m taking this chance to write through our purser, who is going directly with dispatches for the Company, so you’ll receive this reassuring news about someone you probably thought was lost long ago. I've included it in a letter to my broker, who I trust has your address and will send it on. And I am, respectfully, Sir, your most humble servant,
“Benjamin Chintz.”He had no sooner taken a cursory view of this agreeable epistle, than his countenance cleared up, and, reaching it to his friend, with a smile, “There,” said he, “is a more convincing argument, on your side of the question, than all the casuists in the universe can advance.” Gauntlet, wondering at this observation, took the paper, and, casting his eyes greedily upon the contents, congratulated him upon the receipt of it, with extravagant demonstrations of joy. “Not on account of the sum,” said he, “which, upon my honour, I would with pleasure pay three times over for your convenience and satisfaction; but because it seems to have reconciled you to life, and disposed your mind for enjoying the comforts of society.”
He had barely skimmed this pleasant letter when his face brightened, and, handing it to his friend with a smile, he said, “There’s a more convincing argument for your side of the debate than all the philosophers in the world could offer.” Gauntlet, surprised by this remark, took the paper and eagerly read its contents, congratulating him on receiving it with over-the-top joy. “Not because of the amount,” he said, “which, honestly, I would gladly pay three times over for your comfort and happiness; but because it seems to have made you appreciate life again and ready to enjoy the comforts of company.”
The instantaneous effect which this unexpected smile of fortune produced in the appearance of our adventurer is altogether inconceivable; it plumped up his cheeks in a moment, unbended and enlightened every feature of his face; elevated his head, which had begun to sink as it were, between his shoulders; and from a squeaking dispirited tone, swelled up his voice to a clear manly accent. Godfrey, taking advantage of this favourable change, began to regale him with prospects of future success. He reminded him of his youth and qualifications, which were certainly designed for better days than those he had as yet seen; he pointed out various paths by which he might arrive at wealth and reputation; he importuned him to accept of a sum for his immediate occasions; and earnestly begged that he would allow him to discharge the debt for which he was confined, observing, that Sophy's fortune had enabled him to exhibit that proof of his gratitude, without any detriment to his affairs; and protesting that he should not believe himself in possession of Mr. Pickle's esteem, unless he was permitted to make some such return of good-will to the man, who had not only raised him from indigence and scorn, to competence and reputable rank, but also empowered him to obtain the possession of an excellent woman, who had filled up the measure of his felicity.
The instant impact of this unexpected stroke of luck on our adventurer's appearance is beyond imagination; it immediately filled out his cheeks, brightened and relaxed every feature of his face, lifted his head, which had started to droop, and transformed his once squeaky, dispirited voice into a clear and confident tone. Godfrey, seizing this positive change, began to share visions of future success with him. He reminded him of his youth and skills, which were clearly meant for better days than those he had experienced so far; he pointed out various ways he could achieve wealth and recognition; he urged him to accept some money for his current needs; and genuinely pleaded that he would let him pay off the debt that had him confined, noting that Sophy's fortune allowed him to show this gratitude without harming his own situation; and he insisted that he wouldn’t feel worthy of Mr. Pickle's respect unless he was given the chance to express his goodwill to the man who had not only lifted him from poverty and disgrace to a comfortable and respected position but also enabled him to win the love of an amazing woman who completed his happiness.
Peregrine declared himself already overpaid for all his good offices, by the pleasure he enjoyed in employing them, and the happy effects they had produced in the mutual satisfaction of two persons so dear to his affection; and assured his friend, that one time or other he would set his conscience at ease, and remove the scruples of his honour, by having recourse to his assistance; but at present he could not make use of his friendship, without giving just cause of offence to honest Hatchway, who was prior to him in point of solicitation, and had manifested his attachment with surprising obstinacy and perseverance.
Peregrine felt he was already overpaid for all his efforts, simply because of the joy he got from using them and the positive outcomes they created for two people he cared about deeply. He assured his friend that someday he would clear his conscience and address his honor's concerns by seeking his help; however, right now he couldn’t rely on his friendship without offending the honorable Hatchway, who had asked first and had shown his loyalty with impressive stubbornness and persistence.
CHAPTER CII.
Peregrine reconciles himself to the Lieutenant, and renews his Connection with Society—Divers Plans are projected in his behalf, and he has occasion to exhibit a remarkable Proof of Self-denial.
Peregrine makes peace with the Lieutenant and reconnects with society. Various plans are set in motion for him, and he gets the chance to demonstrate a notable act of self-denial.
The captain, with reluctance, yielded the preference in this particular to Jack, who was immediately invited to a conference, by a note subscribed with Pickle's own hand. He was found at the prison-gate waiting for Gauntlet, to know the issue of his negotiation. He no sooner received this summons, than he set all his sails, and made the best of his way to his friend's apartment; being admitted by the turnkey, in consequence of Peregrine's request, communicated by the messenger who, carried the billet. Pipes followed close in the wake of his shipmate; and, in a few minutes after the note had been despatched, Peregrine and Gauntlet heard the sound of the stump, ascending the wooden staircase with such velocity, that they at first mistook it for the application of drumsticks to the head of an empty barrel. This uncommon speed, however, was attended with a misfortune; he chanced to overlook a small defect in one of the steps, and his prop plunging into a hole, he fell backwards, to the imminent danger of his life. Tom was luckily at his back, and sustained him in his arms, so as that he escaped without any other damage than the loss of his wooden leg, which was snapped in the middle, by the weight of his body in falling; and such was his impatience, that he would not give himself the trouble to disengage the fractured member. Unbuckling the whole equipage in a trice, he left it sticking in the crevice, saying, a rotten cable was not worth heaving up, and, in this natural state of mutilation, hopped into the room with infinite expedition.
The captain, somewhat reluctantly, let Jack take the lead on this matter, and Jack quickly received an invitation for a meeting, sent with Pickle's own hand. He was found waiting at the prison gate for Gauntlet to find out the results of his negotiation. As soon as he got the message, he rushed over to his friend's place, being let in by the jailer, thanks to Peregrine's request conveyed by the messenger who delivered the note. Pipes followed closely behind his shipmate, and just a few minutes after the note was sent, Peregrine and Gauntlet heard the sound of a wooden leg quickly coming up the stairs, so fast that they initially thought it was someone playing a drum on an empty barrel. However, this unusual speed came with a downside; he didn’t notice a small defect in one of the steps, and his leg fell into a hole, causing him to fall backward, putting his life in danger. Luckily, Tom was right behind him and caught him, so he only lost his wooden leg, which broke in half from the fall. In his impatience, he didn’t bother to retrieve the broken piece. He quickly unbuckled the whole set and left it stuck in the gap, saying that a rotten cable wasn’t worth pulling up, and in that state of disarray, he hopped into the room with great speed.
Peregrine, taking him cordially by the hand, seated him upon one side of his bed; and, after having made an apology for that reserve of which he had so justly complained, asked if he could conveniently accommodate him with the loan of twenty guineas. The lieutenant, without opening his mouth, pulled out his purse; and Pipes, who overheard the demand, applying the whistle to his lips, performed a loud overture, in token of his joy. Matters being thus brought to an accommodation, our hero told the captain, that he should be glad of his company at dinner, with their common friend Hatchway, if he would in the meantime leave him to the ministry of Pipes; and the soldier went away for the present, in order to pay a short visit to his uncle, who at that time languished in a declining state of health, promising to return at the appointed hour.
Peregrine, warmly shaking his hand, had him sit on one side of his bed. After apologizing for the distance he had justly complained about, he asked if he could lend him twenty guineas. The lieutenant, without saying a word, pulled out his purse; and Pipes, who overheard the request, put the whistle to his lips and played a loud tune, signaling his happiness. With that settled, our hero told the captain he would be glad to have him join him for dinner with their mutual friend Hatchway, if he would allow him to spend some time with Pipes in the meantime. The soldier left for now to visit his uncle, who was currently in poor health, promising to return at the agreed time.
The lieutenant, having surveyed the dismal appearance of his friend, could not help being moved at the spectacle, and began to upbraid him with his obstinate pride, which, he swore, was no better than self-murder. But the young gentleman interrupted him in the course of his moralizing, by telling him he had reasons for his conduct, which, perhaps, he would impart in due season; but, at present, his design was to alter that plan of behaviour, and make himself some amends for the misery he had undergone. He accordingly sent Pipes to redeem his clothes from the pawnbroker's wardrobe, and bespeak something comfortable for dinner. When Godfrey came back, he was very agreeably surprised to see such a favourable alteration in his externals; for, by the assistance of his valet, he had purified himself from the dregs of his distress, and now appeared in a decent suit, with clean linen, while his face was disencumbered of the hair that overshadowed it, and his apartment prepared for the reception of company.
The lieutenant, seeing how miserable his friend looked, couldn’t help but feel sorry for him and started to criticize him for his stubborn pride, claiming it was just as bad as self-destruction. But the young man interrupted his lecture, saying he had his reasons for acting the way he did, which he might share at the right time; for now, he wanted to change his behavior and make up for the suffering he had endured. So, he sent Pipes to retrieve his clothes from the pawn shop and order something nice for dinner. When Godfrey returned, he was pleasantly surprised to see such a positive change in his appearance; with his valet’s help, he had cleaned himself up from the remnants of his distress and looked presentable in a neat suit and clean shirt, with his face free of the unkempt hair that had covered it, and his room ready to welcome guests.
They enjoyed their meal with great satisfaction, entertaining one another with a recapitulation of their former adventures at the garrison. In the afternoon, Gauntlet taking his leave, in order to write a letter to his sister, at the desire of his uncle who, finding his end approaching, wanted to see her without loss of time, Peregrine made his appearance on the Bare, and was complimented on his coming abroad again, not only by his old messmates, who had not seen him for many weeks, but by a number of those objects whom his liberality had fed, before his funds were exhausted. Hatchway was, by his interest with the warden, put in possession of his former quarters, and Pipes despatched to make inquiry about Crabtree at his former lodging, where he learned that the misanthrope, after a very severe fit of illness, was removed to Kensington Gravel-pits, for the convenience of breathing a purer air than that of London.
They enjoyed their meal with great satisfaction, entertaining each other by recalling their past adventures at the garrison. In the afternoon, Gauntlet took his leave to write a letter to his sister, at the request of his uncle who, facing his end, wanted to see her as soon as possible. Peregrine then showed up on the Bare and was welcomed back not only by his old messmates, who hadn’t seen him for weeks, but also by a number of people he had supported before running out of money. Hatchway, thanks to his connection with the warden, got back his old quarters, and Pipes was sent to ask about Crabtree at his previous place, where he found out that the misanthrope, after a severe illness, had moved to Kensington Gravel-pits for the sake of breathing cleaner air than what London offered.
In consequence of this information, Peregrine, who knew the narrowness of the old gentleman's fortune, next day desired his friend Gauntlet to take the trouble of visiting him, in his name, with a letter, in which he expressed great concern for his indisposition, gave him notice of the fortunate intelligence he had received from the Downs, and conjured him to make use of his purse, if he was in the least hampered in his circumstances. The captain took coach immediately, and set out for the place, according to the direction which Pipes had procured.
As a result of this news, Peregrine, who was aware of the old gentleman's limited finances, asked his friend Gauntlet the next day to visit him on his behalf with a letter. In the letter, he expressed his deep concern for the man's health, informed him about the good news he had received from the Downs, and urged him to use his funds if he was facing any difficulties. The captain quickly took a coach and headed to the location based on the directions Pipes had provided.
Cadwallader, having seen him at Bath, knew him again at first sight; and, though reduced to a skeleton, believed himself in such a fair way of doing well, that he would have accompanied him to the Fleet immediately, had he not been restrained by his nurse, who was, by his physician, invested with full authority to dispute and oppose his will in everything that she should think prejudicial to his health; for he was considered, by those who had the care of him, as an old humourist, not a little distempered in his brain. He inquired particularly about the sailors, who, he said, had deterred him from carrying on his usual correspondence with Pickle, and been the immediate cause of his indisposition, by terrifying him into a fever. Understanding that the breach between Pickle and Hatchway was happily cemented, and that he was no longer in any danger from the lieutenant's resentment, he promised to be at the Fleet with the first convenient opportunity; and, in the meantime, wrote an answer to Peregrine's letter, importing, that he was obliged to him for his offer, but had not the least occasion for his assistance.
Cadwallader, having seen him at Bath, recognized him immediately; and, although he had become frail and thin, he believed he was on the mend and would have gone with him to the Fleet right away if his nurse hadn’t stopped him. She had been given full authority by his doctor to challenge him in every way she thought might be harmful to his health, as those taking care of him viewed him as an old eccentric, somewhat unbalanced in his mind. He specifically asked about the sailors, who he claimed had kept him from maintaining his usual correspondence with Pickle and had directly caused his illness by scaring him into a fever. Learning that the rift between Pickle and Hatchway had been resolved, and that he was no longer at risk from the lieutenant's anger, he promised to get to the Fleet at the first available chance. In the meantime, he wrote a reply to Peregrine’s letter, thanking him for his offer but stating that he had no need for his help.
In a few days, our adventurer recovered his vigour, complexion, and vivacity; he mingled again in the diversions and parties of the place; and he received, in a little time, the money he had lent upon bottomry, which, together with the interest, amounted to upwards of eleven hundred pounds. The possession of this sum, while it buoyed up his spirits, involved him in perplexity. Sometimes he thought it was incumbent on him, as a man of honour, to employ the greatest part of it in diminishing the debt for which he suffered; on the other hand, he considered that obligation effaced, by the treacherous behaviour of his creditor, who had injured him to ten times the value of the sum; and, in these sentiments, entertained thoughts of attempting his escape from prison, with a view of conveying himself, with the shipwreck of his fortune, to another country, in which he might use it to better advantage.
In a few days, our adventurer regained his energy, complexion, and enthusiasm; he joined in the local activities and parties again; and soon after, he received the money he had lent on bottomry, which, along with the interest, added up to over eleven hundred pounds. Having this amount lifted his spirits but also put him in a difficult position. Sometimes he felt it was his duty as an honorable man to use most of it to pay off the debt he was suffering from; on the other hand, he believed that obligation was wiped away by the deceitful actions of his creditor, who had harmed him to ten times the value of the sum. With these thoughts in mind, he considered trying to escape from prison, aiming to take himself, along with the remnants of his fortune, to another country where he could make better use of it.
Both suggestions were attended with such doubts and difficulties, that he hesitated between them, and for the present laid out a thousand pounds in stock, the interest of which, together with the fruits of his own industry, he hoped, would support him above want in his confinement, until something should occur that would point out the expediency of some other determination. Gauntlet still insisted upon having the honour of obtaining his liberty, at the expense of taking up his notes to Gleanum, and exhorted him to purchase a commission with part of the money which he had retrieved. The lieutenant affirmed, that it was his privilege to procure the release of his cousin Pickle, because he enjoyed a very handsome sum by his aunt, which of right belonged to the young gentleman, to whom he was, moreover, indebted for the use of his furniture, and for the very house that stood over his head; and that, although he had already made a will in his favour, he should never be satisfied, nor easy in his mind, so long as he remained deprived of his liberty, and wanted any of the conveniences of life.
Both suggestions came with so many doubts and challenges that he hesitated between them and, for now, invested a thousand pounds in stocks. He hoped that the interest from these, along with the fruits of his own hard work, would keep him above want during his confinement until something happened that would indicate the need for a different decision. Gauntlet continued to insist on the honor of securing his freedom, even if it meant redeeming his notes to Gleanum, and urged him to buy a commission with part of the money he had recovered. The lieutenant claimed that it was his right to secure the release of his cousin Pickle because he had a substantial sum from his aunt that rightfully belonged to the young gentleman. Besides, he owed him for the use of his furniture and for the very house he lived in. Although he had already made a will in his favor, he felt he would never be satisfied or at peace as long as he remained imprisoned and lacked the comforts of life.
Cadwallader, who by this time assisted at their councils, and was best acquainted with the peculiarity and unbending disposition of the youth, proposed, that, seeing he was so averse to obligations, Mr. Hatchway should purchase of him the garrison with its appendages, which, at a moderate price, would sell for more money than would be sufficient to discharge his debts; that, if the servile subordination of the army did not suit his inclinations, he might, with his reversion, buy a comfortable annuity, and retire with him to the country, where he might live absolutely independent, and entertain himself, as usual, with the ridiculous characters of mankind.
Cadwallader, who was now part of their discussions and knew the young man's unique and stubborn nature well, suggested that since he was so against commitments, Mr. Hatchway should buy the garrison and its belongings from him. At a reasonable price, it would bring in more money than enough to pay off his debts. If the strict hierarchy of the army didn’t sit well with him, he could use the proceeds to purchase a decent annuity and retire with him to the countryside, where he could live completely independently and amuse himself, as always, with the absurdities of humanity.
This plan was to Pickle less disagreeable than any other project which as yet had been suggested; and the lieutenant declared himself ready to execute his part of it without delay; but the soldier was mortified at the thoughts of seeing his assistance unnecessary, and eagerly objected to the retirement, as a scheme that would blast the fairest promises of fame and fortune, and bury his youth and talents in solitude and obscurity. This earnest opposition on the part of Gauntlet hindered our adventurer from forming any immediate resolution, which was also retarded by his unwillingness to part with the garrison upon any terms, because he looked upon it as a part of his inheritance, which he could not dispose of without committing an insult upon the memory of the deceased commodore.
This plan seemed less unpleasant than any other proposal that had been made so far, and the lieutenant said he was ready to go along with it immediately. However, the soldier was upset at the thought of his help being unnecessary and strongly opposed the idea of retreating, claiming it would ruin his chances for glory and success and leave his youth and talents stuck in isolation and obscurity. Gauntlet's passionate objections prevented our adventurer from making any quick decisions, and his hesitation was also fueled by his reluctance to give up the garrison under any circumstances, as he viewed it as part of his inheritance, which he couldn’t sell without disrespecting the memory of the late commodore.
CHAPTER CIII.
He is engaged in a very extraordinary Correspondence, which is interrupted by a very unexpected Event.
He is involved in a very unusual correspondence that is interrupted by an unexpected event.
While this affair was in agitation, the captain told him in the course of conversation, that Emilia was arrived in town, and had inquired about Mr. Pickle with such an eagerness of concern, as seemed to proclaim that she was in some measure informed of his misfortune: he therefore desired to know if he might be allowed to make her acquainted with his situation, provided he should be again importuned by her on that subject, which he had at first industriously waived. This proof, or rather presumption, of her sympathizing regard, did not fail to operate powerfully upon the bosom of Peregrine, which was immediately filled with those tumults which love, ill-stifled, frequently excites. He observed, that his disgrace was such as could not be effectually concealed; therefore he saw no reason for depriving himself of Emilia's compassion, since he was for ever excluded from her affection; and desired Godfrey to present to his sister the lowly respects of a despairing lover.
While this situation was unfolding, the captain mentioned during their conversation that Emilia had arrived in town and had asked about Mr. Pickle with such a genuine concern that it seemed she was somewhat aware of his troubles. He wanted to know if he could tell her about his situation if she pressed him on the topic again, which he had originally tried to avoid. This indication, or rather assumption, of her caring interest had a strong effect on Peregrine's heart, stirring up the chaotic feelings that love often brings when it's suppressed. He realized that his disgrace was something that couldn't be effectively hidden, so he saw no reason to deny himself Emilia's compassion, since he was forever barred from her love. He asked Godfrey to convey to his sister the humble respects of a hopeless lover.
But, notwithstanding his declaration of despondence on this head, his imagination involuntarily teemed with more agreeable ideas. The proposal of Crabtree had taken root in his reflection, and he could not help forming plans of pastoral felicity in the arms of the lovely Emilia, remote from those pompous scenes which he now detested and despised. He amused his fancy with the prospect of being able to support her in a state of independency, by means of the slender annuity which it was in his power to purchase, together with the fruits of those endeavours which would profitably employ his vacant hours; and foresaw provision for his growing family in the friendship of the lieutenant, who had already constituted him his heir. He even parcelled out his hours among the necessary cares of the world, the pleasures of domestic bliss, and the enjoyments of a country life; and spent the night in ideal parties with his charming bride, sometimes walking by the sedgy bank of some transparent stream, sometimes pruning the luxuriant vine, and sometimes sitting in social converse with her in a shady grove of his own planting.
But despite his claims of despair about this, his imagination couldn’t help but fill with more pleasant ideas. Crabtree's suggestion had taken root in his mind, and he found himself planning a happy life with the lovely Emilia, far away from the grand scenes he now hated and looked down upon. He entertained the thought of being able to support her in a state of independence, using the small annuity he could buy, alongside the income from his efforts that would keep him productively busy. He even envisioned being able to provide for his growing family with the friendship of the lieutenant, who had already named him as his heir. He broke down his time among the essential duties of life, the joys of home life, and the pleasures of rural living; and he spent the night dreaming up ideal moments with his charming bride, sometimes walking by the grassy banks of a clear stream, sometimes trimming the lush vines, and sometimes enjoying conversation with her in a shady grove he had planted himself.
These, however, were no more than the shadowy phantoms of imagination, which, he well knew, would never be realized: not that he believed such happiness unattainable by a person in his circumstances, but because he would not stoop to propose a scheme which might, in any shape, seem to interfere with the interest of Emilia, or subject himself to a repulse from that young lady, who had rejected his addresses in the zenith of his fortune.
These were just vague figments of his imagination, which he knew would never come true: not because he thought such happiness was impossible for someone in his situation, but because he refused to suggest a plan that could, in any way, seem to interfere with Emilia's interests or expose himself to rejection from her, especially since she had turned him down at the height of his success.
While he diverted himself with these agreeable reveries, an unexpected event intervened, in which she and her brother were deeply interested. The uncle was tapped for the dropsy, and died in a few days after the operation, having bequeathed, in his will, five thousand pounds to his nephew, and twice that sum to his niece, who had always enjoyed the greatest share of his favour.
While he occupied himself with these pleasant daydreams, something unexpected happened that greatly involved her and her brother. Their uncle was diagnosed with dropsy and passed away a few days after the surgery, leaving five thousand pounds to his nephew in his will, and twice that amount to his niece, who had always received the most affection from him.
If our adventurer, before this occurrence, looked upon his love for Emilia as a passion which it was necessary, at any rate, to conquer or suppress, he now considered her accession of fortune as a circumstance which confirmed that necessity, and resolved to discourage every thought on that subject which should tend to the propagation of hope. One day, in the midst of a conversation calculated for the purpose, Godfrey put into his hand a letter directed to Mr. Pickle, in the handwriting of Emilia, which the youth no sooner recognized, than his cheeks were covered with a crimson dye, and he began to tremble with violent agitation; for he at once guessed the import of the billet, which he kissed with great reverence and devotion, and was not at all surprised when he read the following words:—
If our adventurer, before this happened, saw his love for Emilia as a passion that he needed to conquer or suppress, he now viewed her good fortune as a reason to confirm that need and resolved to push away any thoughts that might encourage hope. One day, during a conversation designed for that purpose, Godfrey handed him a letter addressed to Mr. Pickle, written in Emilia's handwriting. As soon as the youth recognized it, his face turned bright red, and he began to shake with intense emotion; he instantly guessed the message of the letter, which he kissed with great respect and devotion, and he wasn’t surprised at all when he read the following words:—
Sir,—I have performed a sufficient sacrifice to my
reputation, in retaining hitherto the appearance of that
resentment which I had long ago dismissed; and as the
late favourable change in my situation empowers me to
avow my genuine sentiments, without fear of censure, or
suspicion of mercenary design, I take this opportunity
to assure you, that, if I still maintain that place in
your heart which I was vain enough to think I once
possessed, I am willing to make the first advances to an
accommodation, and have actually furnished my brother
with full powers to conclude it in the name of your
appeased
“Emilia.”
Sir,—I've made enough of a sacrifice to my reputation by keeping up the act of resentment that I let go of a long time ago; and now that my situation has improved, I feel empowered to express my true feelings without worrying about criticism or being thought to have ulterior motives. I want to take this chance to assure you that if I still hold a place in your heart that I foolishly believed I once had, I'm ready to take the first step towards reconciliation. I've even given my brother full authorization to finalize it on behalf of your appeased
“Emilia.”Pickle, having kissed the subscription with great ardour, fell upon his knees, and lifting up his eyes, “Thank Heaven!” cried he, with an air of transport, “I have not been mistaken in my opinion of that generous maid. I believed her inspired with the most dignified and heroic sentiments, and now she gives me a convincing proof of her magnanimity. It is now my business to approve myself worthy of her regard. May Heaven inflict upon me the keenest arrows of its vengeance, if I do not, at this instant, contemplate the character of Emilia with the most perfect love and adoration; yet, amiable and enchanting as she is, I am, more than ever, determined to sacrifice the interest of my passion to my glory, though my life should fail in the contest; and even to refuse an offer, which, otherwise, the whole universe should not bribe me to forego.”
Pickle, having kissed the subscription with great enthusiasm, fell to his knees and looked up. “Thank goodness!” he exclaimed, ecstatic, “I was right about that generous woman. I believed she was filled with the highest and noblest sentiments, and now she’s giving me clear proof of her greatness. It’s my duty now to prove myself worthy of her affection. May Heaven strike me with its fiercest wrath if I do not, at this moment, regard Emilia with the deepest love and admiration; yet, as charming and captivating as she is, I am more determined than ever to prioritize my honor over my desires, even if it costs me my life in the process; and I will even reject an offer that nothing in the world could convince me to accept otherwise.”
This declaration was not so unexpected as unwelcome to his friend Gauntlet, who represented that his glory was not at all interested in the affair; because he had already vindicated his generosity in repeated proffers to lay his whole fortune at Emilia's feet, when it was impossible that anything selfish could enter into the proposal; but that, in rejecting her present purpose, he would give the world an opportunity to say, that his pride was capricious, his obstinacy invincible; and his sister would have undeniable reason to believe, that either his passion for her was dissembled, or the ardour of it considerably abated.
This declaration was not so much unexpected as it was unwelcome to his friend Gauntlet, who pointed out that his reputation wasn't at all tied up in the situation. He had already proven his generosity by repeatedly offering to put his entire fortune at Emilia's feet when there was no way anything selfish could be involved in the offer. However, by rejecting her current intentions, he would give people the chance to say that his pride was whimsical, his stubbornness unyielding; and his sister would have clear reasons to think that either his feelings for her were fake or that his passion for her had definitely lessened.
In answer to these remonstrances, Pickle observed, that he had long set the world at defiance; and, as to the opinion of Emilia, he did not doubt that she would applaud in her heart the resolution he had taken, and do justice to the purity of his intention. It was not an easy task to divert our hero from his designs at any time of life; but, since his confinement, his inflexibility was become almost insurmountable. The captain, therefore, after having discharged his conscience, in assuring him that his sister's happiness was at stake, that his mother had approved of the step she had taken, and that he himself should be extremely mortified at his refusal, forbore to press him with further argument, which served only to rivet him the more strongly in his own opinion, and undertook to deliver this answer to Emilia's letter:—
In response to these objections, Pickle stated that he had long defied the world; as for Emilia's opinion, he was sure she would secretly support the decision he had made and recognize the sincerity of his intentions. It was never easy to sway our hero from his plans at any point in his life; however, since his confinement, his determination had become nearly unbreakable. Therefore, after clearing his conscience by assuring him that his sister's happiness was at stake, that his mother had approved of the action she had taken, and that he himself would be very disappointed by his refusal, the captain chose not to push him further with arguments that would only strengthen his resolve and agreed to deliver this reply to Emilia's letter:—
Madam,—That I revere the dignity of your virtue with the
utmost veneration, and love you infinitely more than life,
I am at all times ready to demonstrate; but the sacrifice
to honour it is now my turn to pay; and such is the rigour
of my destiny, that, in order to justify your generosity,
I must refuse to profit by your condescension. Madam, I am
doomed to be for ever wretched; and to sigh without ceasing
for the possession of that jewel, which, though now in my
offer, I dare not enjoy. I shall not pretend to express the
anguish that tears my heart, whilst I communicate this fatal
renunciation, but appeal to the delicacy of your own
sentiments, which can judge of my sufferings, and will,
doubtless, do justice to the self-denial of your forlorn
“P. Pickle.”
Madam,—I hold your virtue in the highest regard and love you far beyond life itself. I am always ready to show that; however, it is now my responsibility to honor it with sacrifice. Such is the harshness of my fate that, to honor your kindness, I must refuse to take advantage of your generosity. Madam, I am destined to be eternally miserable and to constantly yearn for that precious thing, which, though now offered, I cannot dare to enjoy. I won’t try to express the pain that tears at my heart as I share this unfortunate renunciation, but I appeal to your sensitivity, which can understand my torment and will surely recognize the selflessness of your unfortunate “P. Pickle.”
Emilia, who knew the nicety of our hero's pride, had foreseen the purport of this epistle before it came to her hands; she did not, therefore, despair of success, nor desist from the prosecution of her plan, which was no other than that of securing her own happiness, in espousing the man upon whom she had fixed her unalterable affection. Confident of his honour, and fully satisfied of the mutual passion with which they were inspired, she gradually decoyed him into a literary correspondence, wherein she attempted to refute the arguments on which he grounded his refusal; and, without doubt, the young gentleman was not a little pleased with the enjoyment of such delightful commerce, in the course of which he had, more than ever, an opportunity of admiring the poignancy of her wit, and the elegance of her understanding.
Emilia, who understood the subtleties of our hero's pride, had anticipated the meaning of this letter before it even reached her; she didn’t lose hope for success or give up on her plan, which was simply to secure her own happiness by marrying the man she had firmly decided to love. Confident in his honor and fully aware of the mutual feelings they shared, she gradually lured him into a written correspondence, where she tried to counter the reasons for his refusal. Without a doubt, the young man was quite pleased to enjoy such delightful exchanges, during which he had even more opportunities to admire her sharp wit and the elegance of her intelligence.
The contemplation of such excellency, while it strengthened the chains with which she held him enslaved, added emulation to the other motives that induced him to maintain the dispute; and much subtlety of reasoning was expended upon both sides of this very particular question, without any prospect of conviction on either part, till, at last, she began to despair of making him a proselyte to her opinion by dint of argument; and resolved for the future to apply herself chiefly to the irresistible prepossessions of his love, which were not at all diminished or impaired by the essays of her pen. With this view she proposed a conference, pretending that it was impossible to convey all her reflections upon this subject in a series of short letters; and Godfrey undertook to bail him for the day. But, conscious of her power, he would not trust himself in her presence, though his heart throbbed with all the eagerness of desire to see her fair eyes disrobed of that resentment which they had worn so long, and to enjoy the ravishing sweets of a fond reconciliation.
The contemplation of such excellence, while it strengthened the bonds that kept him under her control, fueled his desire to keep arguing. A lot of clever reasoning was thrown around on both sides of this very specific issue, with no chance of convincing either side. Eventually, she began to lose hope of swaying him to her viewpoint through argument alone; she decided to focus mainly on the undeniable affection he had for her, which wasn't affected at all by her writing efforts. With that in mind, she suggested a meeting, claiming that it was impossible to share all her thoughts on the topic in a series of short letters; and Godfrey agreed to help him out for the day. But, aware of her influence, he wouldn’t allow himself to be near her, even though his heart raced with the eagerness to see her lovely eyes free from the anger they had shown for so long, and to savor the delightful joy of a heartfelt reconciliation.
Nature could not have held out against such powerful attacks, had not the pride and caprice of his disposition been gratified to the full in the triumph of his resistance; he looked upon the contest as altogether original, and persevered with obstinacy, because he thought himself sure of favourable terms, whenever he should be disposed to capitulate. Perhaps he might have overshot himself in the course of his perseverance. A young lady of Emilia's fortune and attractions could not fail to find herself surrounded by temptations, which few women can resist. She might have misinterpreted the meaning of some paragraph or taken umbrage at an unguarded expression in one of Peregrine's letters. She might have been tired out by his obstinate peculiarity, or, at the long run, construed it into madness, slight, or indifference; or, rather than waste her prime in fruitless endeavours to subdue the pride of a headstrong humourist, she might have listened to the voice of some admirer, fraught with qualifications sufficient to engage her esteem and affection. But all these possibilities were providentially prevented by an accident attended with more important consequences than any we have hitherto recounted.
Nature couldn't have endured such powerful attacks if his pride and whims hadn't been fully satisfied by the success of his resistance; he viewed the struggle as completely unique and stubbornly continued because he believed he could secure favorable terms whenever he felt like giving in. He might have overreached during his persistence. A young lady with Emilia's fortune and charm would inevitably find herself surrounded by temptations that few women can resist. She could have misunderstood some part of Peregrine's letters or taken offense at an offhand comment. She might have grown weary of his stubborn nature, or eventually perceived it as madness, neglect, or indifference; or, instead of wasting her youth trying to change the pride of a headstrong individual, she might have been swayed by the affections of some admirer, who had enough qualities to win her respect and love. But all these possibilities were mercifully averted by an accident that had consequences far more significant than anything we've mentioned so far.
Early one morning Pipes was disturbed by the arrival of a messenger, who had been sent express from the country by Mr. Clover, with a packet for the lieutenant, and arrived in town overnight; but as he was obliged to have recourse to the information of Jack's correspondent in the city, touching the place of his abode, before he demanded entrance at the Fleet the gate was shut; nor would the turnkeys admit him, although he told them that he was charged with a message of the utmost consequence; so that he was fain to tarry till daybreak, when he, at his earnest solicitation, was allowed to enter.
Early one morning, Pipes was woken up by a messenger who had traveled from the countryside to deliver a package from Mr. Clover for the lieutenant. The messenger had arrived in the city overnight but needed to find out where Jack was living before trying to get into the Fleet. By the time he reached the gate, it was shut, and the guards wouldn’t let him in, even when he insisted he had an urgent message. So, he had to wait until daybreak, when, after a lot of pleading, he was finally allowed to enter.
Hatchway, opening the packet, found a letter enclosed for Peregrine, with an earnest request that he should forward it to the hands of that young gentleman with all possible despatch. Jack, who could not dive into the meaning of this extraordinary injunction, began to imagine that Mrs. Clover lay at the point of death, and wanted to take a last farewell of her brother; and this conceit worked so strongly upon his imagination, that, while he huddled on his clothes, and made the best of his way to the apartment of our hero, he could not help cursing, within himself, the folly of the husband in sending such disagreeable messages to a man of Peregrine's impatient temper, already soured by his own uneasy situation. This reflection would have induced him to suppress the letter, had not he been afraid to tamper with the ticklish disposition of his friend, to whom, while he delivered it, “As for my own part,” said he, “mayhap I may have as much natural affection as another, but when my spouse parted, I bore my misfortune like a British man, and a Christian. For why? He's no better than a fresh-water sailor, who knows not how to stem the current of mischance.”
Hatchway, opening the packet, found a letter enclosed for Peregrine, with an urgent request that he forward it to that young man as quickly as possible. Jack, unable to grasp the meaning of this unusual request, began to imagine that Mrs. Clover was at death's door and wanted to say a final goodbye to her brother. This thought consumed his imagination so much that, while he hurriedly got dressed and made his way to our hero’s room, he couldn’t help but curse to himself the foolishness of the husband for sending such unpleasant messages to someone with Peregrine's quick temper, already strained by his own difficult situation. This thought might have led him to keep the letter to himself if he hadn’t been worried about messing with his friend’s sensitive state. As he handed it over, he said, “As for me, I might have as much natural affection as anyone else, but when my wife left, I faced my misfortune like a British man and a Christian. Why? He’s no better than a weekend sailor who doesn’t know how to handle the rough waters of misfortune.”
Pickle being waked from a pleasant dream, in which the fair Emilia was principally concerned, and hearing this strange preamble, sat up in his bed, and unsealed the letter, in a state of mortification and disgust. But what were the emotions of his soul, when he read the following intimation:—
Pickle, waking from a nice dream featuring the lovely Emilia, heard this strange introduction and sat up in bed, feeling embarrassed and repulsed. But what were his feelings when he read the following note:—
Dear Brother,—It hath pleased God to take your father
suddenly off by a fit of apoplexy; and as he has died
intestate, I give you this notice, that you may, with all
speed, come down and take possession of your right, in
despite of Master Gam and his mother, who, you may be sure,
do not sit easy under this unexpected dispensation of
Providence. I have, by virtue of being a justice of the
peace, taken such precautions as I thought necessary for
your advantage; and the funeral shall be deferred until
your pleasure be known. Your sister, though sincerely
afflicted by her father's fate, submits to the will of
Heaven with laudable resignation, and begs you will set
out for this place without delay; in which request she is
joined by, sir, your affectionate brother, and humble
servant, “Charles Clover.”
Dear Brother, — God has chosen to take your father suddenly due to a stroke, and since he passed away without a will, I’m sending you this notice so you can come down quickly and claim your rightful share, regardless of Master Gam and his mother, who are certainly not handling this unexpected turn of events well. As a justice of the peace, I’ve taken the necessary steps for your benefit; the funeral will be postponed until we know your decision. Your sister, though deeply saddened by our father’s death, accepts the will of Heaven with admirable acceptance and asks that you leave for this place without delay; in this request, she is joined by your loving brother and humble servant, “Charles Clover.”
Peregrine at first looked upon this epistle as a mere illusion of the brain, and a continuation of the reverie in which he had been engaged. He read it ten times over, without being persuaded that he was actually awake. He rubbed his eyes, and shook his head, in order to shake off the drowsy vapours that surrounded him. He hemmed thrice with great vociferation, snapped his fingers, tweaked his nose, started up from his bed, and, opening the casement, took a survey of the well-known objects that appeared on each side of his habitation. Everything seemed congruous and connected, and he said within himself, “Sure this is the most distinct dream that ever sleep produced.” Then he had recourse again to the paper, which he carefully perused, without finding any variation from his first notion of the contents.
Peregrine initially thought this letter was just a trick of his mind and a continuation of the daydream he had been experiencing. He read it over ten times, still unconvinced that he was truly awake. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head to clear away the sleepy haze around him. He cleared his throat loudly three times, snapped his fingers, pinched his nose, jumped up from his bed, and opened the window to check out the familiar sights surrounding his home. Everything seemed in order and connected, and he thought to himself, “This must be the clearest dream that sleep ever created.” Then he returned to the letter, reading it carefully again but finding no change from his initial interpretation of its message.
Hatchway, seeing all his extravagances of action, accompanied with a wild stare of distraction, began to believe that his head was at length fairly turned, and was really meditating means for securing his person, when Pickle, in a tone of surprise, exclaimed, “Good God! am I or am I not awake?”—“Why look ye, cousin Pickle,” replied the lieutenant, “that is a question which the deep sea-line of my understanding is not long enough to sound; but howsomever, thof I can't trust to the observation I have taken, it shall go hard but I will fall upon a way to guess whereabouts we are.” So saying, he lifted up a pitcher full of cold water, that stood behind the outward door, and discharged it in the face of Peregrine without ceremony or hesitation. This remedy produced the desired effect. Unpalatable as it was, the young gentleman no sooner recovered his breath, which was endangered by such a sudden application, than he thanked his friend Jack for the seasonable operation he had performed. Having no longer any just reason to doubt the reality of what appeared so convincingly to his senses, he shifted himself on the instant, not without hurry and trepidation; and, putting on his morning dress, sallied forth to the Bare, in order to deliberate with himself on the important intelligence he had received.
Hatchway, watching Pickle's wild actions and his dazed expression, started to think that he might have truly lost his mind and was actually coming up with a plan to protect himself. Suddenly, Pickle exclaimed in shock, “Good God! Am I awake or not?” “Well, cousin Pickle,” the lieutenant answered, “that’s a question my understanding isn't deep enough to answer. But even though I can’t fully trust what I’ve observed, I’ll do my best to figure out where we are.” With that, he grabbed a pitcher of cold water from behind the door and splashed it in Peregrine’s face without any hesitation. This had the intended effect. Though it was unpleasant, once the young man caught his breath, which had been taken away by such a sudden shock, he thanked his friend Jack for the timely intervention. No longer doubting the reality that was so clear to his senses, he quickly got dressed and headed out to the Bare to think about the important news he had just received.
Hatchway, not yet fully convinced of his sanity, and curious to know the purport of the letter, which had affected him in such an extraordinary manner, carefully attended his footsteps in this excursion, in hope of being favoured with his confidence, in the course of their perambulation. Our hero no sooner appeared at the street door, than he was saluted by the messenger, who having posted himself in the way for that purpose, “God bless your noble honour, Squire Pickle,” cried he, “and give you joy of succeeding to your father's estate.” These words had scarce proceeded from his mouth, when the lieutenant, hopping eagerly towards the countryman, squeezed his hand with great affection, and asked if the old gentleman had actually taken his departure. “Ay, Master Hatchway,” replied the other, “in such a woundy haste, that he forgot to make a will.”—“Body of me!” exclaimed the seaman; “these are the best tidings I have ever heard since I first went to sea. Here, my lad, take my purse, and stow thyself chuck full of the best liquor in the land.” So saying, he tipped the peasant with ten pieces, and immediately the whole place echoed the sound of Tom's instrument. Peregrine, repairing to the walk, communicated the billet to his honest friend, who at his desire went forthwith to the lodgings of Captain Gauntlet, and returned in less than an hour with that gentleman, who, I need not say, was heartily rejoiced at the occasion.
Hatchway, still unsure about his own sanity and curious about the meaning of the letter that had affected him so strangely, carefully followed his steps on this outing, hoping to earn his trust during their walk. As soon as our hero appeared at the street door, he was greeted by the messenger, who had positioned himself for that purpose, “God bless you, Squire Pickle,” he exclaimed, “and congratulations on inheriting your father’s estate.” No sooner had these words left his mouth than the lieutenant eagerly hopped over to the countryman, squeezed his hand warmly, and asked if the old gentleman had really passed away. “Yes, Master Hatchway,” the other replied, “in such a hurry that he forgot to make a will.” “Good heavens!” exclaimed the sailor; “this is the best news I’ve heard since I first went to sea. Here, my friend, take my purse and treat yourself to the finest drinks in the land.” With that, he gave the peasant ten coins, and immediately the whole place echoed with the sound of Tom's instrument. Peregrine, heading out for a walk, shared the letter with his loyal friend, who, at his request, quickly went to Captain Gauntlet’s lodgings and returned in less than an hour with that gentleman, who was, as you can imagine, very happy about the news.
CHAPTER CIV.
Peregrine holds a Consultation with his Friends, in consequence of which he bids Adieu to the Fleet—He arrives at his Father's House, and asserts his Right of Inheritance.
Peregrine has a meeting with his friends, and as a result, he says goodbye to the fleet. He arrives at his father's house and claims his right to inherit.
Nor did our hero keep the misanthrope in ignorance of this happy turn of fortune. Pipes was despatched to the senior, with a message requesting his immediate presence; and he accordingly appeared, in obedience to the summons, growling with discontent for having been deprived of several hours of his natural rest. His mouth was immediately stopped with the letter, at which he “smiled horribly a ghastly grin;” and, after a compliment of gratulation, they entered into close divan, about the measures to be taken in consequence of this event.
Nor did our hero keep the misanthrope in the dark about this lucky turn of events. Pipes was sent to the senior with a message asking for his immediate presence; he showed up, grumbling about having lost several hours of much-needed rest. He was quickly silenced with the letter, at which he "smiled hideously a ghastly grin;" and after exchanging congratulations, they had a serious discussion about what actions to take following this incident.
There was no room for much debate. It was unanimously agreed that Pickle should set out with all possible despatch for the garrison, to which Gauntlet and Hatchway resolved to attend him. Pipes was accordingly ordered to prepare a couple of post-chaises, while Godfrey went to procure bail for his friend, and provide them with money for the expense of the expedition; but not before he was desired by Peregrine to conceal this piece of news from his sister, that our youth might have an opportunity to surprise her in a more interesting manner, after he should have settled his affairs.
There wasn't much room for discussion. Everyone agreed that Pickle should leave for the garrison as quickly as possible, and Gauntlet and Hatchway decided to go with him. Pipes was told to get a couple of carriages ready, while Godfrey went to arrange bail for his friend and to get them money for the trip; but first, Peregrine asked him to keep this news from his sister so that he could surprise her in a more exciting way once he had taken care of his business.
All these previous steps being taken, in less than an hour our hero took his leave of the Fleet, after he had left twenty guineas with the warden for the relief of the poor prisoners, a great number of whom conveyed him to the gate, pouring forth prayers for his long life and prosperity; and he took the road to the garrison, in the most elevated transports of joy, unallayed with the least mixture of grief at the death of a parent whose paternal tenderness he had never known. His breast was absolutely a stranger to that boasted storm, or instinct of affection, by which the charities are supposed to subsist.
All these previous steps completed, in less than an hour our hero said his goodbyes to the Fleet, after leaving twenty guineas with the warden to help the poor prisoners. A large group of them accompanied him to the gate, showering him with prayers for a long life and success. He then set off toward the garrison, filled with the highest joy, completely free from any sadness about the death of a parent whose caring love he had never experienced. His heart was completely untouched by that so-called storm or instinct of affection that supposedly fuels human kindness.
Of all the journeys he had ever made, this, sure, was the most delightful. He felt all the ecstasy that must naturally be produced in a young man of his imagination, from such a sudden transition in point of circumstance, he found himself delivered from confinement and disgrace, without being obliged to any person upon earth for his deliverance; he had it now in his power to retort the contempt of the world in a manner suited to his most sanguine wish; he was reconciled to his friend, and enabled to gratify his love, even upon his own terms; and saw himself in possession of a fortune more ample than his first inheritance, with a stock of experience that would steer him clear of all those quicksands among which he had been formerly wrecked.
Of all the journeys he had ever taken, this one was definitely the most enjoyable. He felt all the excitement that must come naturally to a young man of his imagination from such a sudden change in circumstances. He found himself free from confinement and disgrace, without owing anyone on earth for his escape. Now he had the power to respond to the world's contempt in a way that matched his most optimistic wishes. He had made amends with his friend and was able to pursue his love on his own terms. He saw himself with a fortune greater than his original inheritance, along with the experience that would help him avoid all the pitfalls that had previously led to his downfall.
In the middle of their journey, while they halted at an inn for a short refreshment and change of horses, a postilion running up to Peregrine in the yard, fell at his feet, clasped his knees with great eagerness and agitation, and presented to him the individual face of his old valet-de-chambre. The youth perceiving him in such an abject garb and attitude, commanded him to rise and tell the cause of such a miserable reverse in his fortune. Upon which Hadgi gave him to understand, that he had been ruined by his wife, who, having robbed him of all his cash and valuable effects, had eloped from his house with one of his own customers, who appeared in the character of a French count, but was in reality no other than an Italian fiddler; that, in consequence of this retreat, he, the husband, was disabled from paying a considerable sum which he had set apart for his wine merchant, who being disappointed in his expectation, took out an execution against his effects; and the rest of his creditors following his example, hunted him out of house and home. So that, finding his person in danger at London, he had been obliged to escape into the country, skulking about from one village to another, till, being quite destitute of all support, he had undertaken his present office, to save himself from starving.
In the middle of their journey, while they stopped at an inn for a quick break and to switch horses, a postilion ran up to Peregrine in the yard, fell at his feet, clutched his knees with great urgency and distress, and revealed the familiar face of his old valet. The young man, seeing him in such a pitiful state, told him to get up and explain what had caused such a drastic fall in his fortune. Hadgi explained that he had been ruined by his wife, who had stolen all his money and valuable belongings and run off with one of his own customers, who pretended to be a French count but was actually just an Italian fiddler. Because of this betrayal, he could no longer pay a significant amount he had set aside for his wine merchant, who, feeling let down, took legal action against his belongings; the rest of his creditors followed suit and drove him out of his home. So, realizing he was in danger in London, he had to escape to the countryside, hiding from one village to another, until he was completely broke and forced to take on his current job to avoid starving.
Peregrine listened with compassion to his lamentable tale, which too well accounted for his not appearing in the Fleet, with offers of service to his master in distress; a circumstance that Pickle had all along imputed to his avarice and ingratitude. He assured him, that, as he had been the means of throwing in his way the temptation to which he fell a sacrifice, he would charge himself with the retrieval of his affairs. In the meantime, he made him taste of his bounty, and desired him to continue in his present employment until he should return from the garrison, when he would consider his situation, and do something for his immediate relief.
Peregrine listened compassionately to his unfortunate story, which clearly explained why he hadn't shown up in the Fleet to offer his services to his distressed master; Pickle had always blamed this on his greed and ungratefulness. He assured him that since he had been the reason for the temptation that led him to fall, he would take responsibility for fixing his situation. In the meantime, he shared some of his generosity and asked him to keep working in his current role until he returned from the garrison, at which point he would reassess his situation and do something for his immediate help.
Hadgi attempted to kiss his shoe, and wept, or affected to weep, with sensibility at this gracious reception; he even made a merit of his unwillingness to exercise his new occupation, and earnestly begged that he might be allowed to give immediate attendance upon his dear master, from whom he could not bear the thoughts of a second parting. His entreaties were reinforced by the intercession of his two friends, in consequence of which the Swiss was permitted to follow them at his own leisure, while they set forward after a slight repast, and reached the place of their destination before ten o'clock at night.
Hadgi tried to kiss his shoe and either cried or pretended to cry, showing how touched he was by this kind reception. He even made a point of saying how much he didn’t want to take on his new job, and he earnestly asked if he could be allowed to be with his dear master right away, as he couldn’t stand the thought of being separated again. His pleas were supported by his two friends, which led to the Swiss being allowed to follow them at his own pace, while they set off after a light meal and arrived at their destination before ten o'clock at night.
Peregrine, instead of alighting at the garrison, rode straightway to his father's house; and no person appearing to receive him, not even a servant to take care of his chaise, he dismounted without assistance. Being followed by his two friends, he advanced into the hall, where perceiving a bell-rope, he made immediate application to it in such a manner as brought a couple of footmen into his presence. After having reprimanded them, with a stern look, for their neglect in point of attendance, he commanded them to show him into an apartment; and as they seemed unwilling to yield obedience to his orders, asked if they did not belong to the family?
Peregrine, instead of stopping at the garrison, went straight to his father's house; and since no one was there to greet him, not even a servant to take care of his carriage, he got off without help. With his two friends trailing behind, he entered the hall, where he noticed a bell-rope. He pulled it vigorously, which quickly brought a couple of footmen to him. After giving them a stern look as a reprimand for not attending to him, he ordered them to show him to a room. When they seemed reluctant to follow his orders, he asked if they didn’t belong to the family.
One of them, who took upon himself the office of spokesman, replied with a sullen air, that they had been in the service of old Mr. Pickle, and now that he was dead, thought themselves bound to obey nobody but their lady, and her son Mr. Gamaliel. This declaration had scarce proceeded from his mouth, when our hero gave them to understand, that since they were not disposed to own any other master, they must change their quarters immediately. He ordered them to decamp without further preparation; and, as they still continued restive, they were kicked out of doors by the captain and his friend Hatchway. Squire Gam, who overheard everything that passed, and was now more than ever inflamed with that rancour which he had sucked with his mother's milk, flew to the assistance of his adherents, with a pistol in each hand, bellowing “Thieves! Thieves!” with great vociferation, as if he had mistaken the business of the strangers, and actually believed himself in danger of being robbed. Under this pretence he discharged a piece at his brother, who luckily escaped the shot, closed with him in a moment, and, wresting the other pistol from his grip, turned him out into the courtyard, to the consolation of his two dependents.
One of them, who took on the role of spokesperson, responded with a gloomy attitude that they had worked for old Mr. Pickle, and now that he was dead, they believed they were only obligated to serve his lady and her son, Mr. Gamaliel. As soon as he finished speaking, our hero made it clear that since they weren’t interested in having any other master, they needed to leave immediately. He ordered them to pack up and go without any further preparation; and, as they continued to resist, the captain and his friend Hatchway kicked them out. Squire Gam, who overheard everything and was now even more fueled by the resentment he had absorbed from his mother, rushed to support his followers, brandishing a pistol in each hand, shouting “Thieves! Thieves!” loudly, as if he had misunderstood the situation and truly believed he was about to be robbed. Under this pretext, he fired a shot at his brother, who thankfully dodged it, quickly engaged him, wrestled the other pistol away, and threw him out into the courtyard, much to the relief of his two supporters.
By this time, Pipes and the two postilions had taken possession of the stables, without being opposed by the coachman and his deputy, who quietly submitted to the authority of their new sovereign. But the noise of the pistol had alarmed Mrs. Pickle, who, running downstairs, with the most frantic appearance, attended by two maids and the curate, who still maintained his place of chaplain and ghostly director in the family, would have assaulted our hero with her nails, had not she been restrained by her attendants. Though they prevented her from using her hands, they could not hinder her from exercising her tongue, which she wagged against him with all the virulence of malice. She asked, if he were come to butcher his brother, to insult his father's corpse, and triumph in her affliction? She bestowed upon him the epithets of spendthrift, jail-bird, and unnatural ruffian; she begged pardon of God for having brought such a monster into the world; accused him of having brought his father's grey hairs with sorrow to the grave; and affirmed, that were he to touch the body, it would bleed at his approach.
By this point, Pipes and the two postilions had taken over the stables, without any opposition from the coachman and his assistant, who quietly accepted the authority of their new master. But the gunshot had startled Mrs. Pickle, who ran downstairs looking frantic, accompanied by two maids and the curate, who still held his position as the family chaplain and spiritual advisor. She would have attacked our hero with her nails if her attendants hadn’t held her back. Although they stopped her from using her hands, they couldn’t prevent her from unleashing a tirade of insults. She asked if he had come to murder his brother, to desecrate his father’s corpse, and to gloat over her suffering. She called him a spendthrift, a criminal, and an unnatural monster; she begged God for forgiveness for bringing such a creature into the world; she accused him of bringing his father's gray hairs to the grave in sorrow; and she claimed that if he touched the body, it would bleed at his approach.
Without pretending to refute the articles of this ridiculous charge, he allowed her to ring out her alarm; and then calmly replied, that if she did not quietly retire to her chamber, and behave as became a person in her present situation, he should insist upon her removing to another lodging without delay; for he was determined to be master in his own family. The lady, who, in all probability, expected that he would endeavour to appease her with all the tenderness of filial submission, was so much exasperated at his cavalier behaviour, that her constitution could not support the transports of her spirits; and she was carried off by her women in a fit, while the officious clergyman was dismissed after his pupil, with all the circumstances of disgrace.
Without pretending to argue against the absurd accusations, he let her express her frustration, and then calmly responded that if she didn’t go quietly to her room and act appropriately for someone in her situation, he would insist on her moving to another place immediately; he was determined to be in charge of his own home. The woman, who probably expected him to try to soothe her with affectionate submission, was so irritated by his dismissive attitude that she couldn’t handle her emotions and fainted, while her attendants carried her away, and the meddlesome clergyman was sent off after her, thoroughly disgraced.
Our hero having thus made his quarters good, took possession of the best apartment in the house, and sent notice of his arrival to Mr. Clover, who, with his wife, visited him in less than an hour, and was not a little surprised to find him so suddenly settled in his father's house. The meeting of Julia and her brother was extremely pathetic. She had always loved him with uncommon tenderness, and looked upon him as the ornament of her family; but she had heard of his extravagances with regret, and though she considered the stories that were circulated at his expense, as the malicious exaggerations of his mother and her darling son, her apprehension had been grievously alarmed by an account of his imprisonment and distress, which had been accidentally conveyed to that country by a gentleman from London, who had been formerly of his acquaintance; she could not, therefore, without the most tender emotions of joy, see him, as it were, restored to his rightful inheritance, and re-established in that station of life which she thought he could fill with dignity and importance.
Our hero, having secured his living arrangements, moved into the best room in the house and informed Mr. Clover of his arrival. Mr. Clover, along with his wife, came to see him in less than an hour and was quite surprised to find him so quickly settled in his father's home. The reunion between Julia and her brother was very emotional. She had always loved him deeply and viewed him as the pride of her family. However, she had heard about his reckless behavior with concern. While she believed the stories circulating about him were just the spiteful exaggerations from his mother and her favorite son, she had been deeply worried after hearing about his imprisonment and hardships from a man from London who used to know him. Therefore, it filled her with overwhelming joy to see him, as if he were being restored to his rightful place and reinstated in the role she believed he could fill with dignity and significance.
After their mutual expressions of affection, she retired to her mother's chamber, with a view to make a second offer of her service and attendance, which had been already rejected with scorn since her father's death; while Peregrine consulted his brother-in-law about the affairs of the family, so far as they had fallen within his cognizance and observation. Mr. Clover told him, that, though he was never favoured with the confidence of the defunct, he knew some of his intimates, who had been tampered with by Mrs. Pickle, and even engaged to second the remonstrances by which she had often endeavoured to persuade her husband to settle his affairs by a formal will; but that he had from time to time evaded their importunities with surprising excuses of procrastination, that plainly appeared to be the result of invention and design, far above the supposed pitch of his capacity; a circumstance from which Mr. Clover concluded, that the old gentleman imagined his life would not have been secure, had he once taken such a step as would have rendered it unnecessary to the independence of his second son. He moreover observed, that, in consequence of this information, he no sooner heard of Mr. Pickle's death, which happened at the club, than he went directly with a lawyer to his house, before any cabal or conspiracy could be formed against the rightful heir; and, in presence of witnesses provided for the purpose, sealed up all the papers of the deceased, after the widow had, in the first transports of her sorrow and vexation, fairly owned that her husband had died intestate.
After they both expressed their feelings for each other, she went to her mother's room to offer her help again, which had already been rejected rudely since her father's death. Meanwhile, Peregrine talked to his brother-in-law about their family's situation as much as he was aware of it. Mr. Clover mentioned that, although he was never trusted with the deceased's secrets, he knew some of his close friends who had been influenced by Mrs. Pickle. They even agreed to support her attempts to convince her husband to formalize his will. However, he had skillfully dodged their pressure with excuses that seemed more like clever lies than what one would expect from him. Mr. Clover concluded that the old man likely believed his life would be in danger if he took such a step, which would have made his second son financially independent. He also noted that, upon hearing about Mr. Pickle's death at the club, he immediately went to the man's house with a lawyer to prevent any plot or conspiracy against the rightful heir. In front of witnesses he had gathered for the occasion, he sealed up all of the deceased's papers after the widow, in her initial grief and anger, openly admitted that her husband had died without a will.
Peregrine was extremely well satisfied with this intelligence, by which all his doubts were dispelled; and, having cheerfully supped with his friends on a cold collation, which his brother-in-law had brought in his chariot, they retired to rest, in different chambers, after Julia had met with another repulse from her capricious mother, whose overflowing rage had now subsided into the former channel of calm inveteracy. Next morning the house was supplied with some servants from the garrison, and preparations were made for the funeral of the deceased. Gam having taken lodgings in the neighbourhood, came with a chaise and cart to demand his mother, together with his own clothes, and her personal effects. Our hero, though he would not suffer him to enter the door, allowed his proposal to be communicated to the widow, who eagerly embraced the opportunity of removing, and was, with her own baggage, and that of her beloved son, conveyed to the place which he had prepared for her reception. Thither she was followed by her woman, who was desired by Peregrine to assure her mistress, that, until a regular provision could be settled upon her, she might command him, in point of money, or any other accommodation in his power.
Peregrine was really pleased with this news, which cleared up all his doubts. After a cheerful dinner with his friends featuring a cold meal that his brother-in-law had brought in his carriage, they all went to bed in separate rooms, especially after Julia faced another rejection from her unpredictable mother, whose intense anger had now settled back into her usual calm resentment. The next morning, the house was filled with some servants from the garrison, and arrangements were made for the funeral of the deceased. Gam, having rented a place nearby, arrived with a carriage and cart to collect his mother along with his clothes and her personal belongings. Our hero, though he wouldn’t let him come inside, agreed to let the widow know about his request, which she eagerly accepted to take the chance to move. With her things and her beloved son's belongings, she was taken to the place he had prepared for her. She was followed there by her maid, whom Peregrine asked to assure her mistress that, until a proper arrangement could be made for her, she could rely on him for money or any other assistance he could provide.
CHAPTER CV.
He performs the last Offices to his Father, and returns to London, upon a very interesting Design.
He handles his father's final affairs and heads back to London for a highly intriguing purpose.
Suits of mourning being provided for himself, his friends and adherents, and every other previous measure taken suitable to the occasion, his father was interred, in a private manner, in the parish church; and his papers being examined, in presence of many persons of honour and integrity, invited for that purpose, no will was found, or any other deed, in favour of the second son, though it appeared by the marriage settlement, that the widow was entitled to a jointure of five hundred pounds a year. The rest of his papers consisted of East India bonds, South Sea annuities, mortgages, notes, and assignments, to the amount of four score thousand seven hundred and sixty pounds, exclusive of the house, plate and furniture, horses, equipage, and cattle, with the garden and park adjacent, to a very considerable extent.
Suits of mourning were arranged for himself, his friends, and supporters, and all other necessary preparations were made for the occasion. His father was buried privately in the parish church. When his papers were examined in front of many honorable and trustworthy individuals invited for that purpose, no will or any document in favor of the second son was found. However, it was clear from the marriage settlement that the widow was entitled to a jointure of five hundred pounds a year. The rest of his papers included East India bonds, South Sea annuities, mortgages, notes, and assignments amounting to eighty thousand seven hundred and sixty pounds, not including the house, silverware, furniture, horses, carriages, and livestock, along with the garden and park nearby, which were quite extensive.
This was a sum that even exceeded his expectation, and could not fail to entertain his fancy with the most agreeable ideas. He found himself immediately a man of vast consequence among his country neighbours, who visited him with compliments of congratulation, and treated him with such respect as would have effectually spoiled any young man of his disposition, who had not the same advantages of experience as he had already purchased at a very extravagant price. Thus shielded with caution, he bore his prosperity with surprising temperance; everybody was charmed with his affability and moderation. When he made a circuit round the gentlemen of the district, in order to repay the courtesy which he owed, he was caressed by them with uncommon assiduity, and advised to offer himself as a candidate for the county at the next election, which, they supposed, would soon happen, because the present member was in a declining state of health. Nor did his person and address escape unheeded by the ladies, many of whom did not scruple to spread their attractions before him, with a view of captivating such a valuable prize: nay, such an impression did this legacy make upon a certain peer, who resided in this part of the country, that he cultivated Pickle's acquaintance with great eagerness, and, without circumlocution, offered to him in marriage his only daughter, with a very considerable fortune.
This was an amount that even exceeded his expectations and couldn’t help but fill his mind with the most pleasant thoughts. He quickly found himself a person of great importance among his local neighbors, who visited him with congratulatory compliments and treated him with respect that could easily spoil any young man of his temperament, especially since he didn’t have the same level of experience as he had already bought at a very high cost. With this caution in place, he handled his success with surprising moderation; everyone was charmed by his friendliness and self-restraint. When he made the rounds to thank the gentlemen of the area for their kindness, they showered him with unusual attention and encouraged him to run as a candidate for the county in the next election, which they believed would happen soon since the current member was in declining health. The ladies also noticed his looks and demeanor, many of whom didn’t hesitate to showcase their charms in hopes of winning such a prized catch. In fact, this inheritance made such an impression on a certain nobleman living in the area that he eagerly sought Pickle's friendship and, without beating around the bush, offered him his only daughter in marriage along with a significant fortune.
Our hero expressed himself upon this occasion as became a man of honour, sensibility, and politeness, and frankly gave his lordship to understand, that his heart was already engaged. He was pleased with the opportunity of making such a sacrifice of his passion for Emilia, which, by this time, inflamed his thoughts to such a degree of impatience, that he resolved to depart for London with all possible speed; and for that purpose industriously employed almost every hour of his time in regulating his domestic affairs. He paid off all his father's servants, and hired others, at the recommendation of his sister, who promised to superintend his household in his absence. He advanced the first half-yearly payment of his mother's jointure; and as for his brother Gam, he gave him divers opportunities of acknowledging his faults, so that he might have answered to his own conscience for taking any step in his favour; but that young gentleman was not yet sufficiently humbled by misfortune, and not only forbore to make any overtures of peace, but also took all occasions to slander the conduct and revile the person of our hero, being in this practice comforted and abetted by his righteous mamma.
Our hero handled this situation like a man of honor, sensitivity, and politeness, and made it clear to his lordship that his heart was already committed. He embraced the chance to sacrifice his feelings for Emilia, which by now were consuming his thoughts with such impatience that he decided to leave for London as quickly as possible. To prepare, he dedicated nearly every hour to organizing his personal affairs. He settled all his father's staff and hired new ones on his sister’s recommendation, who promised to take care of his household while he was away. He also made the first half-yearly payment of his mother's jointure. As for his brother Gam, he gave him several chances to admit his mistakes, so he could feel good about taking any steps to help him out; however, that young man had not yet been humbled by his struggles, and instead of reaching out for peace, he seized every opportunity to badmouth our hero and criticize his character, with support from their righteous mother.
Everything being thus settled for the present, the triumvirate set out on their return to town in the same manner with that in which they had arrived in the country, except in this small variation, that Hatchway's chaise-companion was now the valet-de-chambre refitted, instead of Pipes, who, with another lacquey, attended them on horseback. When they had performed two-thirds of their way to London, they chanced to overtake a country squire, on his return from a visit to one of his neighbours, who had entertained him with such hospitality, that, as the lieutenant observed, he rolled himself almost gunwale to every motion of his horse, which was a fine hunter; and when the chaise passed him at full speed, he set up the sportsman's halloo, in a voice that sounded like a French horn, clapping spurs to Sorrel at the same time, in order to keep up with the pace of the machine.
Everything being settled for now, the trio headed back to town just like they had come to the countryside, with one small change: Hatchway's travel companion was now the valet, instead of Pipes, who along with another servant, rode alongside them on horseback. After they had covered two-thirds of the distance to London, they happened to pass a country squire returning from a visit to a neighbor. He had been treated so generously that, as the lieutenant noted, he swayed back and forth with every movement of his horse, which was a fine hunter. When the carriage sped by him, he let out a sportsman's shout, his voice booming like a French horn, while urging Sorrel to keep up with their pace.
Peregrine, who was animated with an uncommon flow of spirits, ordered his postilion to proceed more softly; and entered into conversation with the stranger, touching the make and mettle of his horse, upon which he descanted with so much learning, that the squire was astonished at his knowledge. When they approached his habitation, he invited the young gentleman and his company to halt, and drink a bottle of his ale; and was so pressing in his solicitation, that they complied with his request. He accordingly conducted them through a spacious avenue, that extended as far as the highway, to the gate of a large chateau, of a most noble and venerable appearance, which induced them to alight and view the apartments, contrary to their first intention of drinking a glass of his October at the door.
Peregrine, filled with an unusual sense of enthusiasm, told his driver to go slower and started chatting with the stranger about the breed and qualities of his horse, sharing so much information that the squire was amazed by his expertise. As they neared his house, he invited the young man and his friends to stop and have a drink of his ale. He was so insistent that they agreed to his offer. He then led them through a wide path that stretched all the way to the highway, to the gate of a large chateau that looked grand and ancient, which made them decide to get out and explore the rooms, instead of just having a glass of his October beer at the door.
The rooms were every way suitable to the magnificence of the outside, and our hero imagined they had made a tour through the whole sweep, when the landlord gave him to understand that they had not yet seen the best apartment of the house, and immediately led them into a spacious dining-room, which Peregrine did not enter without giving manifest signs of uncommon astonishment. The panels all round were covered with portraits at full length, by Vandyke; and not one of them appeared without a ridiculous tie-periwig, in the style of those that usually hang over the shops of twopenny barbers. The straight boots in which the figures had been originally painted, and the other circumstances of attitude and drapery, so inconsistent with this monstrous furniture of the head, exhibited such a ludicrous appearance, that Pickle's wonder, in a little time, gave way to his mirth, and he was seized with a violent fit of laughter, which had well-nigh deprived him of his breath.
The rooms were just as impressive as the outside, and our hero thought they had seen everything when the landlord hinted that they had not yet seen the best room in the house. He immediately took them into a large dining room, which Peregrine entered with clear signs of astonishment. The walls were adorned with full-length portraits by Vandyke, and each one sported a ridiculous wig typical of those found in the shops of cheap barbers. The straight boots the figures wore and the other poses and clothing were so out of place with the silly wigs that it created such a funny sight that Pickle's initial wonder quickly turned into laughter, and he burst into a fit of laughter that nearly took his breath away.
The squire, half-pleased and half-offended at this expression of ridicule, “I know,” said he, “what makes you laugh so woefully; you think it strange to zee my vorefathers booted and spurred, with huge three-tailed periwigs on their pates. The truth of the matter is this: I could not abide to zee the pictures of my vamily with a parcel of loose hair hanging about their eyes, like zo many colts; and zo I employed a painter vellow from Lundon to clap decent periwigs upon their skulls, at the rate of vive shillings a head, and offered him three shillings a piece to furnish each with a handsome pair of shoes and stockings: but the rascal, thinking I must have 'em done at any price after their heads were covered, haggled with me for four shillings a picture; and zo, rather than be imposed upon, I turned him off, and shall let 'em stand as they are, till zome more reasonable brother of the brush comes round the country.”
The squire, part amused and part offended by this mocking remark, said, “I know why you're laughing so sadly; you think it’s odd to see my ancestors in boots and spurs, with big three-tailed wigs on their heads. The truth is, I couldn’t stand to see my family pictures with a bunch of messy hair hanging in their eyes, like a bunch of wild colts; so I hired a painter from London to put decent wigs on their heads for five shillings each, and I even offered him three shillings each to give them nice shoes and stockings. But the rascal, thinking I’d have to pay anything once their heads were done, tried to charge me four shillings a picture; so, rather than let him take advantage of me, I let him go, and I’ll leave them as they are until some other more reasonable painter comes through the area.”
Pickle commended his resolution, though in his heart, he blessed himself from such a barbarous Goth; and, after they had despatched two or three bottles of his beer, they proceeded on their journey, and arrived in town about eleven at night.
Pickle praised his determination, although secretly he was grateful to be away from such a savage Goth; and after they had finished two or three bottles of his beer, they continued on their journey and reached the town around eleven at night.
CHAPTER CVI.
He enjoys an interview with Emilia, and makes himself ample Amends for all the Mortifications of his Life.
He has a great time interviewing Emilia and makes up for all the humiliations of his life.
Godfrey, who had taken leave of his sister, on pretence of making a short excursion with Peregrine, whose health required the enjoyment of fresh air, after his long confinement, sent a message to her, that same night, announcing his arrival, and giving her notice that he would breakfast with her next morning; when he and our hero, who had dressed himself for the purpose, taking a hackney-coach, repaired to her lodging, and were introduced into a parlour adjoining to that in which the tea-table was set. Here they had not waited many minutes when they heard the sound of feet coming downstairs; upon which our hero's heart began to beat the alarm. He concealed himself behind the screen, by the direction of his friend, whose ears being saluted with Sophy's voice from the next room, he flew into it with great ardour, and enjoyed upon her lips the sweet transports of a meeting so unexpected; for he had left her in her father's house at Windsor.
Godfrey, who had said goodbye to his sister under the pretense of taking a short trip with Peregrine, whose health needed some fresh air after being stuck indoors for so long, sent her a message that same night to let her know he’d be arriving and would have breakfast with her the next morning. He and our hero, who dressed up for the occasion, took a cab and went to her place, where they were shown into a sitting room next to the one set for tea. They didn’t wait long before they heard footsteps coming down the stairs, causing our hero’s heart to race. Following his friend’s cue, he hid behind the screen, and when Godfrey heard Sophy’s voice from the next room, he rushed in with excitement and shared a passionate kiss with her, thrilled by the surprise of their reunion, having left her at her father’s house in Windsor.
Amidst these emotions, he had almost forgotten the situation of Peregrine; when Emilia, assuming her enchanting air: “Is not this,” said she, “a most provoking scene to a young woman like me, who am doomed to wear the willow, by the strange caprice of my lover? Upon my word, brother, you have done me infinite prejudice, in promoting this jaunt with my obstinate correspondent; who, I suppose, is so ravished with this transient glimpse of liberty, that he will never be persuaded to incur unnecessary confinement for the future.”—“My dear sister,” replied the captain tauntingly, “your own pride set him the example; so you must e'en stand to the consequence of his imitation.”—“'Tis a hard case, however,” answered the fair offender, “that I should suffer all my life, by one venial trespass. Heigh ho! who would imagine that a sprightly girl, such as I, with ten thousand pounds, should go a begging? I have a good mind to marry the next person that asks me the question, in order to be revenged upon this unyielding humourist. Did the dear fellow discover no inclination to see me, in all the term of his releasement? Well, if ever I can catch the fugitive again, he shall sing in his cage for life.”
Amidst these emotions, he had nearly forgotten about Peregrine's situation when Emilia, adopting her charming demeanor, said, “Isn't this just a frustrating scene for a young woman like me, who is fated to wear the willow due to my lover's strange whims? Honestly, brother, you've done me a great disservice by encouraging this trip with my stubborn correspondent; I assume he's so thrilled by this brief taste of freedom that he won't be convinced to endure any unnecessary confinement in the future.” —“My dear sister,” the captain replied teasingly, “your own pride set the example for him, so you must face the consequences of his actions.” —“It's really unfair,” the lovely offender replied, “that I should suffer my whole life because of one minor mistake. Heigh-ho! Who would think a lively girl like me, with ten thousand pounds, would be left begging? I’m tempted to marry the next person who asks me, just to get back at this stubborn humorist. Did the dear fellow show any interest in seeing me during his time of freedom? Well, if I ever catch that runaway again, he’ll be singing in his cage for life.”
It is impossible to convey to the reader a just idea of Peregrine's transports, while he overheard this declaration; which was no sooner pronounced, than, unable to resist the impetuosity of his passion, he sprung from his lurking-place, exclaiming, “Here I surrender!” and rushing into her presence, was so dazzled with her beauty, that his speech failed. He was fixed like a statue to the floor; and all his faculties were absorbed in admiration. Indeed, she was now in the full bloom of her charms, and it was nearly impossible to look upon her without emotion. What then must have been the ecstasy of our youth, whose passion was whetted with all the incitements which could stimulate the human heart! The ladies screamed with surprise at his appearance, and Emilia underwent such agitation as flushed every charm with irresistible energy: her cheeks glowed with a most delicate suffusion, and her bosom heaved with such bewitching undulation, that the cambric could not conceal or contain the snowy hemispheres, that rose like a vision of paradise to his view.
It’s impossible to fully express the emotions Peregrine felt when he overheard this confession. No sooner had it been said than, unable to hold back his overwhelming feelings, he jumped out of his hiding spot, shouting, “Here I give up!” As he rushed into her presence, he was so mesmerized by her beauty that he lost his ability to speak. He stood there like a statue, completely absorbed in admiration. She was in the prime of her beauty, making it nearly impossible to look at her without feeling something deep. What must have been the sheer joy of our young man, whose desire was heightened by every possible trigger for the human heart! The women gasped in surprise at his sudden appearance, and Emilia felt such a wave of emotion that it lit up her beauty with irresistible intensity: her cheeks glowed with a delicate blush, and her chest rose and fell in such captivating rhythm that the fabric could hardly conceal the creamy curves that appeared before him like a vision of paradise.
While he was almost fainting with unutterable delight, she seemed to sink under the tumults of tenderness and confusion; when our hero, perceiving her condition, obeyed the impulse of his love, and circled the charmer in his arms, without suffering the least frown or symptom of displeasure. Not all the pleasures of his life had amounted to the ineffable joy of this embrace, in which he continued for some minutes totally entranced. He fastened upon her pouting lips with all the eagerness of rapture; and, while his brain seemed to whirl round with transport, exclaimed, in a delirium of bliss, “Heaven and earth! this is too much to bear.”
While he was nearly fainting from overwhelming joy, she appeared to be overwhelmed with a mix of affection and confusion. Noticing how she felt, our hero acted on his love and wrapped his arms around her, without showing the slightest frown or sign of annoyance. None of the pleasures in his life compared to the indescribable happiness of this embrace, which he held for several minutes, completely captivated. He pressed his lips against hers with all the intensity of ecstasy and, as his thoughts spun in a daze of happiness, exclaimed in sheer bliss, “Heaven and earth! This is too much to handle.”
His imagination was accordingly relieved, and his attention in some measure divided, by the interposition of Sophy, who kindly chid him for his having overlooked his old friends. Thus accosted, he quitted his delicious armful, and, saluting Mrs. Gauntlet, asked pardon for his neglect; observing that such rudeness was excusable, considering the long and unhappy exile which he had suffered from the jewel of his soul. Then turning to Emilia, “I am come, madam,” said he, “to claim the performance of your promise, which I can produce under your own fair hand. You may, therefore, lay aside all superfluous ceremony and shyness, and crown my happiness without further delay; for, upon my soul! my thoughts are wound up to the last pitch of expectation, and I shall certainly run distracted, if I am doomed to any term of probation.”
His imagination was relieved, and his attention was somewhat divided, thanks to Sophy, who gently scolded him for overlooking his old friends. Addressed this way, he left his delightful embrace and, greeting Mrs. Gauntlet, apologized for his neglect, noting that such rudeness was understandable given the long and unhappy time he had been away from the jewel of his soul. Then turning to Emilia, he said, “I have come, madam, to claim the fulfillment of your promise, which I can show you in your own beautiful handwriting. So, you can put aside any unnecessary formality and shyness and make me happy without any more delay; for, I swear! my thoughts are built up to the highest level of expectation, and I'm definitely going to go crazy if I'm made to wait any longer.”
His mistress having by this time recollected herself, replied, with a most exhilarating smile, “I ought to punish you for your obstinacy with the mortification of a twelvemonth's trial; but it is dangerous to tamper with an admirer of your disposition, and therefore, I think, I must make sure of you while it is in my power.”—“You are willing then to take me for better, for worse, in presence of heaven and these witnesses?” cried Peregrine kneeling, and applying her hand to his lips. At this interrogation, her features softened into an amazing expression of condescending love; and, while she darted a side glance that thrilled to his marrow, and heaved a sigh more soft than Zephyr's balmy wing, her answer was, “Why—ay—and heaven grant me patience to bear the humours of such a yoke-fellow.”—“And may the same powers,” replied the youth, “grant me life and opportunity to manifest the immensity of my love. Meanwhile, I have eighty thousand pounds, which shall be laid immediately in your lap.”
His mistress, having collected her thoughts, replied with a bright smile, “I should really punish you for your stubbornness with a year of waiting; but it's risky to play games with someone like you, so I think I need to secure you while I can.” — “So, you’re willing to take me for better or worse, in front of heaven and these witnesses?” Peregrine exclaimed, kneeling and kissing her hand. At this question, her expression softened with a generous kind of love; while she shot him a glance that sent shivers down his spine and sighed more softly than a gentle breeze, she answered, “Well—yes—and may heaven give me the patience to handle the quirks of such a partner.” — “And may the same powers,” the young man replied, “grant me life and the chance to show how deeply I love you. In the meantime, I have eighty thousand pounds, which I’ll put right in your lap.”
So saying, he sealed the contract upon her lips, and explained the mystery of his last words, which had begun to operate upon the wonder of the two sisters. Sophy was agreeably surprised with the account of his good fortune; nor was it, in all probability, unacceptable to the lovely Emilia; though, from this information, she took an opportunity to upbraid her admirer with the inflexibility of his pride, which, she scrupled not to say, would have baffled all the suggestions of his passion, had it not been gratified by this providential event.
So saying, he sealed the contract with a kiss, and explained the mystery of his last words, which had begun to puzzle the two sisters. Sophy was pleasantly surprised by the news of his good fortune; nor was it, in all likelihood, unwelcome to the beautiful Emilia; although, from this information, she took the chance to criticize her admirer for the stubbornness of his pride, which, she didn't hesitate to say, would have thwarted all his feelings if it hadn't been satisfied by this fortunate event.
Matters being thus happily matured, the lover begged that immediate recourse might be had to the church, and his happiness ascertained before night. But the bride objected with great vehemence to such precipitation, being desirous of her mother's presence at the ceremony; and she was seconded in her opinion by her brother's wife. Peregrine, maddening with desire, assaulted her with the most earnest entreaties, representing, that, as her mother's consent was already obtained, there was surely no necessity for delay, that must infallibly make a dangerous impression upon his brain and constitution. He fell at her feet in all the agony of impatience; and swore his life and intellects would actually be in jeopardy by her refusal; and, when she attempted to argue him out of his demand, began to rage with such extravagance, that Sophy was frightened into conviction; and Godfrey enforcing the remonstrances of his friend, the amiable Emilia was teased into compliance.
With everything falling into place, the lover urgently asked to go to the church right away to confirm their happiness before nightfall. However, the bride strongly opposed such haste, wanting her mother to be present at the ceremony; her sister-in-law supported her view. Peregrine, overwhelmed with desire, pleaded with her passionately, arguing that since her mother had already given her consent, there was really no reason to delay, which could dangerously affect his mind and health. He dropped to her feet in desperation, insisting that his life and sanity were at risk due to her refusal. When she tried to debate him out of his request, he became so furious that it frightened Sophy into agreeing with him; and with Godfrey backing up his friend’s pleas, the lovely Emilia was eventually persuaded to comply.
After breakfast the bridegroom and his companion set out for the Commons for a licence, having first agreed upon the house at which the ceremony should be performed, in the lodgings of the bride; and the permission being obtained, they found means to engage a clergyman, who undertook to attend them at their own time and place. Then a ring was purchased for the occasion; and they went in search of the lieutenant, with whom they dined at a tavern, and not only made him acquainted with the steps they had taken, but desired that he would stand godfather to the bride: an employment which Jack accepted with demonstrations of particular satisfaction; till chancing to look into the street, and seeing Cadwallader approach the door, in consequence of a message they had sent to him by Pipes, he declined the office in favour of the senior, who was accordingly ordained for that purpose, on the supposition that such a mark of regard might facilitate his concurrence with a match, which otherwise he would certainly oppose, as he was a professed enemy to wedlock, and, as yet, ignorant of Peregrine's intention.
After breakfast, the groom and his friend headed to the Commons for a license, having first agreed on the place where the ceremony would take place—in the bride's lodging. Once they got the permission, they managed to find a clergyman who agreed to meet them at their chosen time and place. Then they bought a ring for the occasion and went to find the lieutenant, who they had lunch with at a tavern. They not only informed him about their plans but also asked if he would be the bride's godfather, a role Jack happily accepted. However, when he happened to look out the window and saw Cadwallader coming towards the door—thanks to a message they had sent through Pipes—he withdrew his acceptance in favor of the senior, who was then designated for the role. This was done in the hope that such a gesture might persuade Cadwallader to agree to the marriage, which he would otherwise definitely oppose, as he was openly against marriage and still unaware of Peregrine's intentions.
After having congratulated Pickle upon his succession, and shook his two friends by the hand, the misanthrope asked whose mare was dead, that he was summoned in such a plaguy hurry from his dinner, which he had been fain to gobble up like a cannibal? Our hero gave him to understand, that they had made an appointment to drink tea with two agreeable ladies, and were unwilling that he should lose the opportunity of enjoying an entertainment which he loved so much. Crabtree, shrivelling up his face like an autumn leaf at this intimation, cursed his complaisance, and swore they should keep their assignation without him; for he and lechery had shaken hands many years ago.
After congratulating Pickle on his success and shaking hands with his two friends, the misanthrope asked whose mare had died that he was summoned away from his dinner in such a bothersome hurry, which he had nearly gobbled down like a ravenous beast. Our hero made it clear that they had planned to drink tea with two delightful ladies and didn’t want him to miss out on an opportunity for an enjoyment he cherished so much. Crabtree, scrunching up his face like an autumn leaf at this news, cursed his politeness and vowed that they could keep their appointment without him; he had long since made peace with his lustful inclinations.
The bridegroom, however, likening him unto an old coachman who still delights in the smack of the whip, and dropping some flattering hints of his manhood, even at these years, he was gradually prevailed upon to accompany them to the place of rendezvous; where, being ushered into a dining-room, they had not waited three minutes, when they were joined by the parson, who had observed the hour with great punctuality.
The groom, comparing him to an old driver who still enjoys the crack of the whip, and dropping some compliments about his manhood, even at this age, was slowly convinced to join them at the meeting spot. Once they entered a dining room, they had barely waited three minutes when the pastor arrived, having been very punctual.
This gentleman no sooner entered the room, than Cadwallader, in a whisper to Gauntlet, asked if that was not the cock-b—d; and, before the captain could make any reply, “What an unconscionable w— master the rogue is!” said he, “scarce discharged from confinement, and sweetened with a little fresh air, when he wenches with a pimp in canonicals in his pay.” The door again opened, and Emilia broke in upon them, with such dignity of mien, and divinity of aspect, as inspired every spectator with astonishment and admiration. The lieutenant, who had not seen her since her charms were ripened into such perfection, expressed his wonder and approbation in an exclamation of “Add's zooks! what a glorious galley!” and the misanthrope's visage was instantly metamorphosed into the face of a mountain goat. He licked his lips instinctively, snuffed the air, and squinted with a most horrible obliquity of vision.
This guy barely stepped into the room when Cadwallader whispered to Gauntlet, asking if that was the cock-b—d. Before the captain could respond, he exclaimed, “What an unbelievable w— master this rogue is! He’s barely out of confinement, gotten a bit of fresh air, and already he’s mingling with a pimp in a robe he’s paying.” The door opened again, and Emilia entered, radiating such dignity and beauty that everyone present was filled with awe and admiration. The lieutenant, who hadn’t seen her since she had blossomed into such perfection, expressed his surprise and approval with, “Add's zooks! what a stunning galley!” The misanthrope’s face instantly changed to that of a mountain goat. He instinctively licked his lips, sniffed the air, and squinted in a terribly awkward way.
The bride and her sister being seated, and Hatchway having renewed his acquaintance with the former, who recognized him with particular civility, Peregrine withdrew into another apartment with his friend Crabtree, to whom he imparted the design of his meeting; which the latter no sooner understood, than he attempted to retreat, without making any other reply than that of “Pshaw! rot your matrimony! can't you put your neck in the noose, without my being a witness of your folly?”
The bride and her sister were seated, and Hatchway had reconnected with the bride, who greeted him with special politeness. Peregrine stepped into another room with his friend Crabtree, to whom he shared his plan for the meeting. As soon as Crabtree understood, he tried to back out, responding only with, “Pshaw! Forget your marriage! Can’t you get yourself into trouble without me having to watch your foolishness?”
The young gentleman, in order to vanquish this aversion, stepped to the door of the next room, and begged the favour of speaking with Emilia, to whom he introduced the testy old bachelor as one of his particular friends, who desired to have the honour of giving her away. The bewitching smile with which she received his salute, and granted his request, at once overcame the disapprobation of the misanthrope, who, with a relaxation in his countenance, which had never been perceived before that instant, thanked her in the most polite terms for such an agreeable mark of distinction. He accordingly led her to the dining-room, where the ceremony was performed without delay; and after the husband had asserted his prerogative on her lips, the whole company saluted her by the name of Mrs. Pickle.
The young man, wanting to overcome his discomfort, walked to the door of the next room and asked to speak with Emilia. He introduced the grumpy old bachelor as one of his close friends, who wanted the honor of giving her away. The charming smile with which she greeted him and accepted his request instantly softened the misanthrope's disapproval, who, with an expression of kindness that had never been seen before, thanked her politely for such a nice gesture. He then took her to the dining room, where the ceremony was quickly carried out; and after the husband claimed his right with a kiss, everyone in the room greeted her as Mrs. Pickle.
I shall leave the sensible reader to judge what passed at this juncture within the bosoms of the new-married couple: Peregrine's heart was fired with inexpressible ardour and impatience; while the transports of the bride were mingled with a dash of diffidence and apprehension. Gauntlet saw it would be too much for both to bear their present tantalizing situation till night, without some amusement to divert their thoughts; and therefore proposed to pass part of the evening at the public entertainments in Marylebone gardens, which were at that time frequented by the best company in town. The scheme was relished by the discreet Sophy, who saw the meaning of the proposal, and the bride submitted to the persuasion of her sister; so that, after tea, two coaches were called, and Peregrine was forcibly separated from his charmer during the conveyance.
I'll let the sensible reader decide what went on in the hearts of the newlyweds at this moment: Peregrine's heart was full of intense passion and impatience, while the bride's excitement was mixed with a bit of shyness and anxiety. Gauntlet realized it would be too much for them to endure their current frustrating situation until night without something to lighten their mood, so he suggested they spend part of the evening at the public entertainment in Marylebone Gardens, which at the time was popular with the best crowds in town. The idea was well received by the sensible Sophy, who understood the intention behind the suggestion, and the bride agreed to her sister's persuasion. So, after tea, two coaches were called, and Peregrine was forcibly separated from his beloved during the ride.
The new-married couple and their company having made shift to spend the evening, and supped on a slight collation in one of the boxes, Peregrine's patience was almost quite exhausted, and taking Godfrey aside, he imparted his intention to withdraw in private from the sea-wit of his friend Hatchway, who would otherwise retard his bliss with unseasonable impediments, which, at present, he could not possibly bear. Gauntlet, who sympathized with his impatience, undertook to intoxicate the lieutenant with bumpers to the joy of the bride, and, in the meantime, desired Sophy to retire with his sister, under the auspices of Cadwallader, who promised to squire them home.
The newlywed couple and their guests managed to spend the evening and had a light meal in one of the boxes. Peregrine's patience was nearly gone, so he took Godfrey aside and shared his plan to sneak away from his friend Hatchway, whose antics would only spoil his happiness with annoying distractions that he couldn't handle at the moment. Gauntlet, understanding his frustration, agreed to get the lieutenant drunk to celebrate the bride, while he asked Sophy to leave with his sister, guided by Cadwallader, who promised to take them home.
The ladies were accordingly conducted to the coach, and Jack proposed to the captain, that, for the sake of the joke, the bridegroom should be plied with liquor, in such a manner as would effectually disable him from enjoying the fruits of his good-fortune for one night at least. Gauntlet seemed to relish the scheme, and they prevailed upon Pickle to accompany them to a certain tavern, on pretence of drinking a farewell glass to a single life: there the bottle was circulated, till Hatchway's brain began to suffer innovation. As he had secured our hero's hat and sword, he felt no apprehension of an elopement, which, however, was effected; and the youth hastened on the wings of love to the arms of his enchanting bride. He found Crabtree in a parlour waiting for his return, and disposed to entertain him with a lecture upon temperance; to which he paid very little attention, but ringing for Emilia's maid, desired to know if her mistress was in bed. Being answered in the affirmative, he sent her up-stairs to announce his arrival, undressed himself to a loose gown and slippers, and, wishing the misanthrope good night, after having desired to see him next day, followed in person to the delicious scene, where he found her elegantly dished out, the fairest daughter of chastity and love.
The ladies were taken to the coach, and Jack suggested to the captain that, for fun, they should get the groom drunk enough so he wouldn't be able to enjoy his wedding night—at least for one night. Gauntlet seemed to like the idea, and they convinced Pickle to come with them to a certain tavern, pretending it was for one last drink before settling down. They passed the bottle around until Hatchway started to lose his senses. Since he had taken our hero's hat and sword, he didn't worry about any runaway plans, but they did end up happening; the young man hurried off, fueled by love, to be with his beautiful bride. He found Crabtree in a parlor waiting for him, ready to give a lecture about moderation, which he hardly paid any attention to. Ringing for Emilia's maid, he asked if her mistress was in bed. When she said yes, he sent her upstairs to let Emilia know he had arrived, changed into a loose gown and slippers, and wished the misanthrope goodnight, asking to see him the next day, and then headed to the delightful scene where he found her beautifully presented, the fairest daughter of purity and love.
When he approached, she was overwhelmed with confusion, and hid her lovely face from his transporting view. Mrs. Gauntlet, seeing his eyes kindled at the occasion, kissed her charming sister, who, throwing her snowy arms about her neck, would have detained her in the room, had not Peregrine gently disengaged her confidante from her embrace, and conducted her trembling to the door; which having bolted and barricadoed, he profited by his good fortune, and his felicity was perfect.
When he got close, she was filled with confusion and hid her beautiful face from his captivating gaze. Mrs. Gauntlet, noticing the spark in his eyes, kissed her lovely sister, who, wrapping her fair arms around her neck, tried to keep her in the room. However, Peregrine gently pulled her friend away from the hug and led her, trembling, to the door. After securing it shut, he took advantage of his good luck, and his happiness was complete.
Next day he rose about noon, and found his three friends assembled, when he learned that Jack had fallen in his own snare, and been obliged to lie in the same tavern where he fell; a circumstance of which he was so much ashamed, that Peregrine and his wife escaped many jokes, which he would have certainly cracked, had he not lain under the imputation of this disgrace. In half an hour after he came down, Mrs. Pickle appeared with Sophy, blushing like Aurora or the goddess of health, and sending forth emanations of beauty unparalleled. She was complimented upon her change of situation by all present, and by none more warmly than by old Crabtree, who declared himself so well satisfied with his friend's fortune, as to be almost reconciled to that institution, against which he had declaimed during the best part of his life.
The next day, he got up around noon and found his three friends gathered. He learned that Jack had gotten caught in his own trap and had to stay at the same inn where it happened; he was so embarrassed about it that Peregrine and his wife dodged a lot of jokes that he would have definitely made if he weren’t dealing with this humiliation. Half an hour after he came downstairs, Mrs. Pickle showed up with Sophy, who was blushing like a sunrise or a health goddess, radiating unmatched beauty. Everyone complimented her on her new situation, and none more enthusiastically than old Crabtree, who said he was so pleased with his friend’s luck that he was almost okay with marriage, after having criticized it for most of his life.
An express was immediately despatched to Mrs. Gauntlet, with an account of her daughter's marriage: a town-house was hired, and a handsome equipage set up, in which the new-married pair appeared at all public places, to the astonishment of our adventurer's fair-weather friends, and the admiration of all the world: for, in point of figure, such another couple was not to be found in the whole United Kingdom. Envy despaired, and detraction was struck dumb, when our hero's new accession of fortune was consigned to the celebration of public fame: Emilia attracted the notice of all observers, from the pert Templar to the Sovereign himself, who was pleased to bestow encomiums upon the excellence of her beauty. Many persons of consequence, who had dropped the acquaintance of Peregrine in the beginning of his decline, now made open efforts to cultivate his friendship anew; but he discouraged all these advances with the most mortifying disdain; and one day when the nobleman, whom he had formerly obliged, came up to him in the drawing-room, with the salutation of “Your servant, Mr. Pickle,” he eyed him with a look of ineffable contempt, saying, “I suppose your lordship is mistaken in your man,” and turned his head another way in presence of the whole court.
An express was immediately sent to Mrs. Gauntlet, giving her the news of her daughter's marriage: a town house was rented, and a stylish carriage was set up, in which the newlyweds appeared at all public places, leaving our adventurer's fair-weather friends astonished and everyone else admiring them. In terms of looks, there was no other couple like them in the entire United Kingdom. Envy gave up, and gossip fell silent when our hero's new fortune was made known to the public: Emilia caught the attention of everyone around, from the cocky Templar to the Sovereign himself, who praised her beauty. Many important people, who had distanced themselves from Peregrine during his decline, now made efforts to rekindle their friendship with him; however, he turned down all these advances with the utmost disdain. One day, when a nobleman he had previously helped approached him in the drawing room with a greeting of “Your servant, Mr. Pickle,” he looked at him with a dismissive glare, saying, “I think you must be mistaken about who I am,” and turned his head away in front of the whole court.
When he had made a circuit round all the places frequented by the beau-monde, to the utter confusion of those against whom his resentment was kindled; paid off his debts, and settled his money matters in town, Hatchway was dismissed to the country, in order to prepare for the reception of his fair Emilia. In a few days after his departure, the whole company, Cadwallader himself included, set out for his father's house, and, in their way, took up Mrs. Gauntlet, the mother, who was sincerely rejoiced to see our hero in the capacity of her son-in-law. From her habitation they proceeded homewards at an easy pace, and, amidst the acclamations of the whole parish, entered their own house, where Emilia was received in the most tender manner by Mr. Clover's wife, who had provided everything for her ease and accommodation; and, next day, surrendered unto her the management of her own household affairs.
After he had visited all the hotspots of high society, much to the surprise of those he was upset with; settled his debts, and wrapped up his financial matters in the city, Hatchway was sent back to the countryside to prepare for the arrival of his lovely Emilia. A few days after he left, the entire group, including Cadwallader himself, headed to his father’s house, picking up Mrs. Gauntlet, Emilia's mother, along the way. She was genuinely happy to see our hero stepping into the role of her son-in-law. From her home, they made their way back at a relaxed pace, and, amidst cheers from the entire village, entered their house, where Emilia was welcomed warmly by Mr. Clover's wife, who had arranged everything for her comfort; the next day, she handed over the management of her household to Emilia.
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