but fit also for the arts of peace, for he played on the base-viol as
well as any gentleman at court; you see where his viol hangs by his
basket-hilt sword. The action at the Tilt-Yard you may be sure won the
fair lady, who was a maid-of-honour, and the greatest beauty of her
time; here she stands, the next picture. You see, sir, my
great-great-great-grandmother has on the new-fashioned petticoat,
except that the {62} modern is gathered at the waist; my grandmother
appears as if she stood in a large drum, whereas the ladies now walk as
if they were in a go-cart. For all this lady was bred at court, she
became an excellent country-wife, she brought ten children, and when I
show you the library, you shall see in her own hand (allowing for the
difference of the language) the best receipt now in England both for an
hasty pudding and a whitepot.
"If you please to fall back a little, because it is necessary to look
at the three next pictures at one view; these are three sisters. She
on the right hand, who is so very beautiful, died a maid; the next to
her, still handsomer, had the same fate, against her will; this homely
thing in the middle had both their portions added to her own, and was
stolen by a neighbouring gentleman, a man of stratagem and resolution,
for he poisoned three mastiffs to come at her, and knocked down two
deer-stealers in carrying her off. Misfortunes happen in all families.
The theft of this romp and so much money, was no great matter to our
estate. But the next heir that possessed it was this soft gentleman,
whom you see there. Observe the small buttons, the little boots, the
laces, the slashes about his clothes, and above all the posture he is
drawn in (which, to be sure, was his own choosing); you see he sits
with one hand on a desk writing, and looking as it were another way,
like an easy writer, or a sonneteer. He was one of those that had too
much wit to know how to live in the world; he was a man of no justice,
but great good manners; he ruined everybody that had anything to do
with him, but {63} never said a rude thing in his life; the most
indolent person in the world, he would sign a deed that passed away
half his estate with his gloves on, but would not put on his hat before
a lady if it were to save his country. He is said to be the first that
made love by squeezing the hand. He left the estate with ten thousand
pounds' debt upon it, but however by all hands I have been informed
that he was every way the finest gentleman in the world. That debt lay
heavy on our house for one generation, but it was retrieved by a gift
from that honest man you see there, a citizen of our name, but nothing
at all akin to us. I know Sir Andrew Freeport has said behind my back,
that this man was descended from one of the ten children of the
maid-of-honour I showed you above. But it was never made out; we
winked at the thing indeed, because money was wanting at that time."
Here I saw my friend a little embarrassed, and turned my face to the
next portraiture.
Sir Roger went on with his account of the gallery in the following
manner: "This man (pointing to him I looked at) I take to be the honour
of our house, Sir Humphrey de Coverley; he was in his dealings as
punctual as a tradesman, and as generous as a gentleman. He would have
thought himself as much undone by breaking his word, as if it were to
be followed by bankruptcy. He served his country as knight of this
shire to his dying day. He found it no easy matter to maintain an
integrity in his words and actions, even in things that regarded the
offices which were incumbent upon him, in the care of his own affairs
and relations of life, and therefore dreaded (though he had great
talents) {64} to go into employments of state, where he must be exposed
to the snares of ambition. Innocence of life and great ability were
the distinguishing parts of his character; the latter, he had often
observed, had led to the destruction of the former, and used frequently
to lament that great and good had not the same signification. He was
an excellent husbandman, but had resolved not to exceed such a degree
of wealth; all above it he bestowed in secret bounties many years after
the sum he aimed at for his own use was attained. Yet he did not
slacken his industry, but to a decent old age spent the life and
fortune which was superfluous to himself, in the service of his friends
and neighbours."
Here we were called to dinner, and Sir Roger ended the discourse of
this gentleman, by telling me, as we followed the servant, that this
his ancestor was a brave man, and narrowly escaped being killed in the
Civil Wars. "For," said he, "he was sent out of the field upon a
private message the day before the Battle of Worcester." The whim of
narrowly escaping, by having been within a day of danger, with other
matters above mentioned, mixed with good sense, left me at a loss
whether I was more delighted with my friend's wisdom or simplicity.
(_The Spectator_, No. 109.)
{65}
HENRY FIELDING 1707-1754
PARTRIDGE AT THE PLAY
In the first row, then, of the first gallery did Mr Jones, Mrs Miller,
her youngest daughter, and Partridge, take their places. Partridge
immediately declared it was the finest place he had ever been in. When
the first music was played, he said, "It was a wonder how so many
fiddlers could play at one time, without putting one another out."
While the fellow was lighting the upper candles, he cried out to Mrs
Miller, "Look, look, madam, the very picture of the man in the end of
the Common-Prayer Book before the gunpowder-treason service." Nor
could he help observing, with a sigh, when all the candles were
lighted, "That here were candles enough burnt in one night, to keep an
honest poor family for a whole twelve-month."
As soon as the play, which was Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, began,
Partridge was all attention, nor did he break silence till the entrance
of the ghost; upon which he asked Jones, "What man was that in the
strange dress; something," said he, "like what I have seen in a
picture. Sure it is not armour, is it?" Jones answered, "That is the
ghost." To which Partridge replied with a smile, "Persuade me to that,
sir, if you can. Though I can't say I ever actually saw a ghost in my
life, yet I am certain I should know one, if I saw him, better than
that comes to. No, no, sir, ghosts don't appear in such dresses as
that, neither." In this mistake, which caused much {66} laughter in
the neighbourhood of Partridge, he was suffered to continue, till the
scene between the ghost and Hamlet, when Partridge gave that credit to
Mr Garrick, which he had denied to Jones, and fell into so violent a
trembling, that his knees knocked against each other. Jones asked him
what was the matter, and whether he was afraid of the warrior upon the
stage? "O la! sir," said he, "I perceive now it is what you told me.
I am not afraid of anything; for I know it is but a play. And if it
was really a ghost, it could do one no harm at such a distance, and in
so much company; and yet if I was frightened, I am not the only
person." "Why, who," cries Jones, "dost thou take to be such a coward
here besides thyself?" "Nay, you may call me coward if you will, but
if that little man there upon the stage is not frightened, I never saw
any man frightened in my life. Ay, ay: go along with you: Ay, to be
sure! Who's fool then? Will you? Lud have mercy upon such
fool-hardiness!--Whatever happens, it is good enough for you.----Follow
you? I'd follow the devil as soon. Nay, perhaps it is the
devil----for they say he can put on what likeness he pleases.--Oh! here
he is again.----No farther! No, you have gone far enough already;
farther than I'd have gone for all the king's dominions." Jones
offered to speak, but Partridge cried, "Hush, hush! dear sir, don't you
hear him?" And during the whole speech of the ghost, he sat with his
eyes fixed partly on the ghost and partly on Hamlet, and with his mouth
open; the same passions which succeeded each other in Hamlet,
succeeding likewise in him.
When the scene was over Jones said, "Why, Partridge, {67} you exceed my
expectations. You enjoy the play more than I conceived possible."
"Nay, sir," answered Partridge, "if you are not afraid of the devil, I
can't help it, but to be sure, it is natural to be surprised at such
things, though I know there is nothing in them: not that it was the
ghost that surprised me, neither; for I should have known that to have
been only a man in a strange dress; but when I saw the little man so
frightened himself, it was that which took hold of me." "And dost thou
imagine, then, Partridge," cries Jones, "that he was really
frightened?" "Nay, sir," said Partridge, "did not you yourself observe
afterwards, when he found it was his own father's spirit, and how he
was murdered in the garden, how his fear forsook him by degrees, and he
was struck dumb with sorrow, as it were, just as I should have been,
had it been my own case?--But hush! O la! what noise is that? There
he is again.----Well to be certain, though I know there is nothing at
all in it, I am glad I am not down yonder, where those men are." Then
turning his eyes again upon Hamlet, "Ay, you may draw your sword; what
signifies a sword against the power of the devil?"
During the second act, Partridge made very few remarks. He greatly
admired the fineness of the dresses; nor could he help observing upon
the king's countenance. "Well," said he, "how people may be deceived
by faces! _Nulla fides fronti_ is, I find, a true saying. Who would
think, by looking in the king's face, that he had ever committed a
murder?" He then inquired after the ghost; but Jones, who intended
that he should be surprised, gave him no other satisfaction, than,
"that {68} he might possibly see him again soon, and in a flash of
fire."
Partridge sat in a fearful expectation of this; and now, when the ghost
made his appearance, Partridge cried out, "There, sir, now; what say
you now? is he frightened now or no? As much frightened as you think
me, and, to be sure, nobody can help some fears. I would not be in so
bad a condition as what's his name, squire Hamlet, is there, for all
the world. Bless me! what's become of the spirit? As I am a living
soul, I thought I saw him sink into the earth." "Indeed, you saw
right," answered Jones. "Well, well," cries Partridge, "I know it is
only a play: and besides, if there was anything in all this, Madam
Miller would not laugh so; for as to you, sir, you would not be afraid,
I believe, if the devil was here in person.--There, there--Ay, no
wonder you are in such a passion, shake the vile wicked wretch to
pieces. If she was my own mother, I would serve her so. To be sure
all duty to a mother is forfeited by such wicked doings.----Ay, go
about your business, I hate the sight of you."
Our critic was now pretty silent till the play, which Hamlet introduces
before the king. This he did not at first understand, till Jones
explained it to him; but he no sooner entered into the spirit of it,
than he began to bless himself that he had never committed murder.
Then turning to Mrs Miller, he asked her, "If she did not imagine the
king looked as if he was touched; though he is," said he, "a good
actor, and doth all he can to hide it. Well, I would not have so much
to answer for, as that wicked man there hath, to sit upon a much higher
{69} chair that he sits upon. No wonder he runs away; for your sake
I'll never trust an innocent face again."
The grave digging scene next engaged the attention of Partridge, who
expressed much surprise at the number of skulls thrown upon the stage.
To which Jones answered, "That it was one of the most famous
burial-places about town." "No wonder, then," cries Partridge, "that
the place is haunted. But I never saw in my life a worse grave-digger.
I had a sexton, when I was clerk, that should have dug three graves
while he is digging one. The fellow handles a spade as if it was the
first time he had ever had one in his hand. Ay, ay, you may sing. You
had rather sing than work, I believe."--Upon Hamlet's taking up the
skull he cried out, "Well! it is strange to see how fearless some men
are: I never could bring myself to touch anything belonging to a dead
man, on any account.--He seemed frightened enough, too, at the ghost, I
thought. _Nemo omnibus horis sapit_."
Little more worth remembering occurred during the play, at the end of
which Jones asked him, "Which of the players he had liked best?" To
this he answered, with some appearance of indignation at the question,
"The king, without doubt." "Indeed, Mr Partridge," says Mrs Miller,
"you are not of the same opinion with the town; for they are all
agreed, that Hamlet is acted by the best player who ever was on the
stage." "He the best player!" cries Partridge, with a contemptuous
sneer, "why, I could act as well as he myself. I am sure, if I had
seen a ghost, I should have looked in the very same manner, and done
just as he did. And then, {70} to be sure, in that scene, as you
called it, between him and his mother, where you told me he acted so
fine, why, Lord help me, any man, that is, any good man, that had such
a mother, would have done exactly the same. I know you are only joking
with me; but indeed, madam, though I was never at a play in London, yet
I have seen acting before in the country; and the king for my money; he
speaks all his words distinctly, half as loud again as the
other.--Anybody may see he is an actor."
While Mrs Miller was thus engaged in conversation with Partridge, a
lady came up to Mr Jones, whom he immediately knew to be Mrs
Fitzpatrick. She said, she had seen him from the other part of the
gallery, and had taken that opportunity of speaking to him, as she had
something to say, which might be of great service to himself. She then
acquainted him with her lodgings, and made him an appointment the next
day in the morning; which, upon recollection, she presently changed to
the afternoon; at which time Jones promised to attend her.
Thus ended the adventure at the play-house; where Partridge had
afforded great mirth, not only to Jones and Mrs Miller, but to all who
sat within hearing, who were more attentive to what he said, than to
anything that passed on the stage.
He durst not go to bed all that night, for fear of the ghost; and for
many nights after sweated two or three hours before he went to sleep,
with the same apprehensions, and waked several times in great horrors,
crying out, "Lord have mercy upon us! there it is."
(_Tom Jones_.)
{71}
SAMUEL JOHNSON 1709-1784
A JOURNEY IN A STAGE-COACH
In a stage coach the passengers are for the most part wholly unknown to
one another, and without expectation of ever meeting again when their
journey is at an end; one should, therefore, imagine, that it was of
little importance to any of them, what conjectures the rest should form
concerning him. Yet so it is, that as all think themselves secure from
detection, all assume that character of which they are most desirous,
and on no occasion is the general ambition of superiority more
apparently indulged.
On the day of our departure, in the twilight of the morning, I ascended
the vehicle with three men and two women, my fellow travellers. It was
easy to observe the affected elevation of mien with which every one
entered, and the supercilious civility with which they paid their
compliments to each other. When the first ceremony was dispatched, we
sat silent for a long time, all employed in collecting importance into
our faces, and endeavouring to strike reverence and submission into our
companions.
It is always observable, that silence propagates itself, and that the
longer talk has been suspended, the more difficult it is to find any
thing to say. We began now to wish for conversation; but no one seemed
inclined to descend from his dignity, or first to propose a topic of
discourse. At last a corpulent gentleman, who had equipped himself for
this expedition with a scarlet surtout {72} and a large hat with a
broad lace, drew out his watch, looked on it in silence, and then held
it dangling at his finger. This was, I suppose, understood by all the
company as an invitation to ask the time of the day, but nobody
appeared to heed his overture; and his desire to be talking so far
overcame his resentment, that he let us know of his own accord that it
was past five, and that in two hours we should be at breakfast.
His condescension was thrown away; we continued all obdurate; the
ladies held up their heads; I amused myself with watching their
behaviour; and of the other two, one seemed to employ himself in
counting the trees as we drove by them, the other drew his hat over his
eyes and counterfeited a slumber. The man of benevolence, to shew that
he was not depressed by our neglect, hummed a tune and beat time upon
his snuff-box.
Thus universally displeased with one another, and not much delighted
with ourselves, we came at last to the little inn appointed for our
repast; and all began at once to recompense ourselves for the restraint
of silence, by innumerable questions and orders to the people that
attended us. At last, what every one had called for was got, or
declared impossible to be got at that time, and we were persuaded to
sit round the same table; when the gentleman in the red surtout looked
again upon his watch, told us that we had half an hour to spare, but he
was sorry to see so little merriment among us; that all
fellow-travellers were for the time upon the level, and that it was
always his way to make himself one of the company. "I remember," says
he, "it was on just such a morning as this, that I and my lord Mumble
and the {73} duke of Tenterden were out upon a ramble: we called at a
little house as it might be this; and my landlady, I warrant you, not
suspecting to whom she was talking, was so jocular and facetious, and
made so many merry answers to our questions, that we were all ready to
burst with laughter. At last the good woman happening to overhear me
whisper the duke and call him by his title, was so surprised and
confounded, that we could scarcely get a word from her; and the duke
never met me from that day to this, but he talks of the little house,
and quarrels with me for terrifying the landlady."
He had scarcely time to congratulate himself on the veneration which
this narrative must have procured him from the company, when one of the
ladies having reached out for a plate on a distant part of the table,
began to remark "the inconveniences of travelling, and the difficulty
which they who never sat at home without a great number of attendants
found in performing for themselves such offices as the road required;
but that people of quality often travelled in disguise, and might be
generally known from the vulgar by their condescension to poor
inn-keepers, and the allowance which they made for any defect in their
entertainment; that for her part, while people were civil and meant
well, it was never her custom to find fault, for one was not to expect
upon a journey all that one enjoyed at one's own house."
A general emulation seemed now to be excited. One of the men, who had
hitherto said nothing, called for the last news-paper; and having
perused it a while with deep pensiveness, "It is impossible," says he,
"for any man to guess how to act with regard to the stocks: last {74}
week it was the general opinion that they would fall; and I sold out
twenty thousand pounds in order to a purchase: they have now risen
unexpectedly; and I make no doubt but at my return to London, I shall
risk thirty thousand pounds amongst them again."
A young man, who had hitherto distinguished himself only by the
vivacity of his looks, and a frequent diversion of his eyes from one
object to another, upon this closed his snuff-box, and told us, that
"he had a hundred times talked with the chancellor and the judges on
the subject of the stocks; that for his part he did not pretend to be
well acquainted with the principles on which they were established, but
had always heard them reckoned pernicious to trade, uncertain in their
produce, and unsolid in their foundation; and that he had been advised
by three judges, his most intimate friends, never to venture his money
in the funds, but to put it out upon land security, till he could light
upon an estate in his own country."
It might be expected, that upon these glimpses of latent dignity, we
should all have begun to look round us with veneration; and have
behaved like the princes of romance, when the enchantment that
disguises them is dissolved and they discover the dignity of each
other: yet it happened, that none of these hints made much impression
on the company; everyone was apparently suspected of endeavouring to
impose false appearances upon the rest; all continued their
haughtiness, in hopes to enforce their claims; and all grew every hour
more sullen, because they found their representations of themselves
without effect.
{75} Thus we travelled on four days with malevolence perpetually
increasing, and without any endeavour but to outvie each other in
superciliousness and neglect; and when any two of us could separate
ourselves for a moment, we vented our indignation at the sauciness of
the rest.
At length the journey was at an end; and time and chance, that strip
off all disguises, have discovered, that the intimate of lords and
dukes is a nobleman's butler, who has furnished a shop with the money
he has saved; the man who deals so largely in the funds, is a clerk of
a broker in 'Change-alley; the lady who so carefully concealed her
quality, keeps a cook-shop behind the Exchange; and the young man, who
is so happy in the friendship of the judges, engrosses and transcribes
for bread in a garret of the Temple. Of one of the women only I could
make no disadvantageous detection, because she had assumed no
character, but accommodated herself to the scene before her, without
any struggle for distinction or superiority.
I could not forbear to reflect on the folly of practising a fraud,
which, as the event shewed, had been already practised too often to
succeed, and by the success of which no advantage could have been
obtained; of assuming a character, which was to end with the day; and
of claiming upon false pretences honours which must perish with the
breath that paid them.
But, Mr Adventurer, let not those who laugh at me and my companions,
think this folly confined to a stage coach. Every man in the journey
of life takes the same advantage of the ignorance of his fellow
travellers, disguises himself in counterfeited merit, and hears those
{76} praises with complacency which his conscience reproaches him for
accepting. Every man deceives himself, while he thinks he is deceiving
others; and forgets that the time is at hand when every illusion shall
cease, when fictitious excellence shall be torn away, and all must be
shown to all in their real estate.
I am, Sir,
Your humble servant,
VIATOR.
(_The Adventurer_.)
LAURENCE STERNE 1713-1768
HOW UNCLE TOBY AND CORPORAL TRIM FOLLOWED MARLBOROUGH'S CAMPAIGNS
If the reader has not a clear conception of the rood and the half of
ground which lay at the bottom of my uncle Toby's kitchen-garden, and
which was the scene of so many of his delicious hours,--the fault is
not in me,--but in his imagination;--for I am sure I gave him so minute
a description, I was almost ashamed of it.
When _Fate_ was looking forwards one afternoon, into the great
transactions of future times,--and recollected for what purposes this
little plot, by a decree fast bound down in iron, had been
destined,--she gave a nod to _Nature_:--'twas enough,--Nature threw
half a spadeful of her kindliest compost upon it, with just so _much_
clay in {77} it as to retain the forms of angles and indenting,--and so
_little_ of it too, as not to cling to the spade, and render works of
so much glory, nasty in foul weather.
My uncle Toby came down, as the reader has been informed, with plans
along with him, of almost every fortified town in Italy and Flanders;
so let the Duke of Marlborough, or the allies, have set down before
what town they pleased, my uncle Toby was prepared for them.