LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF PETER WILKINS., VOL. I.
By Robert Paltock, of Clement's Inn.
WITH A PREFACE BY A. H. BULLEN, Editor Of "The Works Of John Day," "A
Collection Of Old English Plays," Etc.
1884.
PREFACE.
In one of those bright racy essays at which modern dulness delights to
sneer, Hazlitt discussed the question whether the desire of posthumous
fame is a legitimate aspiration; and the conclusion at which he arrived
was that there is "something of egotism and even of pedantry in this
sentiment." It is a true saying in literature as in morality that "he
that seeketh his life shall lose it." The world cares most for those who
have cared least for the world's applause. A nameless minstrel of the
North Country sings a ballad that shall stir men's hearts from age to
age with haunting melody; Southey, toiling at his epics, is excluded
from Parnassus. Some there are who have knocked at the door of the
Temple of Fame, and have been admitted at once and for ever. When
Thucydides announced that he intended his history to be a "possession
for all time," there was no mistaking the tone of authority. But to be
enthroned in state, to receive the homage of the admiring multitude, and
then to be rejected as a pretender,--that is indeed a sorry fate, and
one that may well make us pause before envying literary despots their
titles. The more closely a writer shrouds himself from view, the more
eager are his readers to get a sight of him. The loss of an arm or a leg
would be a slight price for a genuine student to pay if only he could
discover one new fact about Shakespeare's history. I will not attempt to
impose on the reader's credulity by professing myself eager to acquire
information about the author of "Peter Wilkins" at such a sacrifice; but
it would have been a sincere pleasure to me if I could have brought to
light some particulars about one whose personality must have possessed
a more than ordinary charm. The delightful _voyage imaginaire_ here
presented to the reader was first published in 1751.*
* Some copies are said to be dated 1750. It appears on the
list of new books announced in the "Gentleman's Magazine"
for November 1750.
An edition appeared immediately afterwards at Dublin; so the book must
have had some sale. The introduction and the dedication to the Countess
of Northumberland (to whom it will be remembered Percy dedicated his
"Reliques" and Goldsmith the first printed copy of his "Edwin and
Angelina") are signed with the initials "R. P.;" and for many years the
author's full name was unknown. In 1835, Nicol, the printer, sold by
auction a number of books and manuscripts in his possession, which
had once belonged to Dodsley, the publisher; and when these were being
catalogued, the original agreement * for the sale of the MS. of "Peter
Wilkins" was brought to light.
* It is now in the collection, shortly to be dispersed, of
the late Mr. James Crossley of Manchester, a gentleman who
was esteemed throughout his long life not less for unfailing
courtesy than for rare scholarship. Mr. Crossley promised to
search for the document and send me a transcript of it; but
his kind intention was frustrated by his death. Paltock's
name is sometimes written Pultock or Poltock. There is no
ground for identifying the author of "Peter Wilkins" with
the "R. P., Gent.," who published in 1751 "Memoirs of the
Life of Parnese, a Spanish Lady, Translated from the Spanish
MS."
From this document it appeared that the author was Robert Paltock of
Clement's Inn, and that he received for the copyright 20L., twelve
copies of the book, and "the cuts of the first impression"(proof
impressions of the illustrations). The writer's name shows him to have
been, like his hero, of Cornish origin; but the authors of the admirable
and exhaustive "Bibliotheca Cornubiensis" could discover nothing about
him beyond the fact that he was not a bencher of Clement's Inn. That
Paltock should have chosen Clement's Inn as a place of residence is
not surprising. It still keeps something of its pristine repose. The
sun-dial is still supported by the negro; the grass has not lost its
verdure, and on August evenings the plane-trees' leaves glint golden
in the sun. One may still hear the chimes at midnight as Falstaff and
Justice Shallow heard them of old. Here, where only a muffled murmur
comes from the work-a-day world, a man in the last century might have
dreamed away his life, lonely as Peter Wilkins on the island. One can
imagine the amiable recluse composing his homely romance amid such
surroundings. Perhaps it was the one labour of his life. He may have
come to the Inn originally with the aspiration of making fame and money;
and then the spirit of cloistered calm turned him from such vulgar
paths, and instead of losing his fine feelings and swelling the ranks of
the plutocrats, he gave us a charming romance for our fireside. With
the literary men of his day he seems to have had no intercourse. Not a
single mention of him is to be found among his contemporaries, and
we may be sure that he cut no brilliant figure at the club-houses. No
chorus of reviewers chimed the praises of "Peter Wilkins." So far as
I can discover, the "Monthly Review" was the only journal in which the
book was noticed, and such criticism as the following can hardly be
termed laudatory:--"Here is a very strange performance indeed. It seems
to be the illegitimate offspring of no very natural conjunction, like
'Gulliver's Travels' and 'Robinson Crusoe;' but much inferior to the
manner of these two performances as to entertainment or utility. It has
all that is impossible in the one or impossible in the other, without
the wit and spirit of the first, or the just strokes of nature and
useful lessons of morality in the second. However, if the invention of
wings for mankind to fly with is sufficient amends for all the dulness
and unmeaning extravagance of the author, we are willing to allow that
his book has some merit, and that he deserves some encouragement at
least as an able mechanic, if not as a good author." But the book
was not forgotten. A new edition appeared in 1783, and again in the
following year. It was included in Weber's "Popular Romances," 1812, and
published separately, with some charming plates by Stothard, in 1816.
Within the last fifty years it has been frequently issued, entire or
mutilated, in a popular form. A drama founded on the romance was acted
at Covent Garden on April 16, 1827; and more than once of late years
"Peter Wilkins" has afforded material for pantomimes. In 1763 a French
translation (by Philippe Florent de Puisieux) appeared under the title
of "Les Hommes Volants, ou les Aventures de Pierre Wilkins," which was
included in vols. xxii.-xxiii. of DePerthe's "Voyages Imaginaires" (
1788-89). A German translation was published in 1767, having for title
"Die fliegenden Menschen, oder wunderbare Begebenheiten Peter Wilkins."
Whether the author lived to see the translations of this work cannot
be ascertained. A Robert Paltock was buried at Ryme Intrinseca Church,
Dorset, in 1767, aged seventy (Hutchin's "Dorset," iv. 493-494, third
edition), but it is very doubtful whether he was the author of the
romance.
Paltock's fame may be said to be firmly established. An American writer,
it is true, in a recent "History of Fiction," says not a word about
"Peter Wilkins;" but, we must remember, another American wrote a
"History of Caricature" without mentioning Rowlandson. Coleridge admired
the book, and is reported to have said: "Peter Wilkins is, to my mind, a
work of uncommon beauty.... I believe that 'Robinson Crusoe' and 'Peter
Wilkins' could only have been written by islanders. No continentalist
could have conceived either tale.... It would require a very peculiar
genius to add another tale _ejusdem generis_ to 'Robinson Crusoe' and
'Peter Wilkins.' I once projected such a thing, but the difficulty of
the preoccupied ground stopped me. Perhaps La Motte Fouqué might effect
something; but I should fear that neither he nor any other German could
entirely understand what may be called the _desert island_ feeling.
I would try the marvellous line of 'Peter Wilkins' if I attempted it
rather than the real fiction of 'Robinson Crusoe'" ("Table-Talk," 1851,
pp. 331-332). Southey, in a note on a passage of the "Curse of Kehama,"
went so far as to say that Paltock's winged people "are the most
beautiful creatures of imagination that ever were devised," and added
that Sir Walter Scott was a warm admirer of the book. With Charles Lamb
at Christ's Hospital the story was a favourite. "We had classics of our
own," he says, "without being beholden to 'insolent Greece or haughty
Rome,' that passed current among us--'Peter Wilkins,' the 'Adventures of
the Hon. Captain Robert Boyle,' the 'Fortunate Blue-Coat Boy,' and the
like." But nobody loved the old romance with such devotion as Leigh
Hunt. He was never tired of discoursing about its beauties, and he wrote
with such thorough appreciation of his subject that he left little or
nothing for another to add. "It is interesting," he writes in one place,
"to fancy R. P., or 'Mr. Robert Paltock of Clement's Inn,' a gentle
lover of books, not successful enough, perhaps, as a barrister to lead a
public or profitable life, but eking out a little employment or a bit
of a patrimony with literature congenial to him, and looking oftener
to 'Purchase Pilgrims' on his shelves than to 'Coke on Littleton.' We
picture him to ourselves with 'Robinson Crusoe' on one side of him and
'Gaudentio di Lucca' on the other, hearing the pen go over his paper
in one of those quiet rooms in Clement's Inn that look out of its
old-fashioned buildings into the little garden with the dial in it held
by the negro: one of the prettiest corners in London, and extremely fit
for a sequestered fancy that cannot get any further. There he sits,
the unknown, ingenious, and amiable Mr. Robert Paltock, thinking of an
imaginary beauty for want of a better, and creating her for the delight
of posterity, though his contemporaries were to know little or nothing
of her. We shall never go through the place again without regarding him
as its crowning interest.... Now a sweeter creature [than Youwarkee] is
not to be found in books; and she does him immortal honour. She is all
tenderness and vivacity; all born good taste and blessed companionship.
Her pleasure consists but in his; she prevents all his wishes; has
neither prudery nor immodesty; sheds not a tear but from right feeling;
is the good of his home and the grace of his fancy. It has been well
observed that the author has not made his flying women in general light
and airy enough... And it may be said, on the other hand, that the
kind of wing, the graundee, or elastic drapery which opens and shuts
at pleasure, however ingeniously and even beautifully contrived, would
necessitate creatures whose modifications of humanity, bodily and
mental, though never so good after their kind, might have startled the
inventor had he been more of a naturalist; might have developed a being
very different from the feminine, sympathising, and lovely Youwarkee.
Muscles and nerves not human must have been associated with inhuman
wants and feelings; probably have necessitated talons and a beak! At
best the woman would have been wilder, more elvish, capricious, and
unaccountable. She would have ruffled her whalebones when angry; been
horribly intimate, perhaps, with birds' nests and fights with eagles;
and frightened Wilkins out of his wits with dashing betwixt rocks and
pulling the noses of seals and gulls. ("Book for a Corner," 1868, i. 68,
&c.) Could criticism be more delightful? But in the "London Journal,"
November 5, 1834, the genial essayist's fancy dallied even more daintily
with the theme: "A peacock with his plumage displayed, full of 'rainbows
and starry eyes,' is a fine object, but think of a lovely woman set in
front of an ethereal shell and wafted about like a Venus.... We are to
picture to ourselves a nymph in a vest of the finest texture and most
delicate carnation. On a sudden this drapery parts in two and flies
back, stretched from head to foot like an oval fan or an umbrella; and
the lady is in front of it, preparing to sweep blushing away from us and
'winnow the buxom air.'"
For many of us the conduct of life is becoming evermore a thing of
greater perplexity. It is wearisome to be rudely jostling one another
for the world's prizes, while myriads are toiling round us in an
Egyptian bondage unlit by one ray of sunshine from the cradle to the
grave. Some have attained to Lucretian heights of philosophy, whence
they look with indifference over the tossing world-wide sea of human
misery; but others are fain to avert their eyes, to clean forget for a
season the actual world and lose themselves in the mazes of romance. In
moments of despondency there is no greater relief to a fretted spirit
than to turn to the "Odyssey" or Mr. Payne's exquisite translation of
the "Arabian Nights." Great should be our gratitude to Mr. Morris for
teaching us in golden verse that "Love is Enough," and for spreading
wide the gates of his "Earthly Paradise." Lucian's "True History," that
carries us over unknown seas beyond the Atlantic bounds to enchanted
islands in the west, is one of those books which we do not half
appreciate. And among the world's benefactors Robert Paltock deserves a
place. An idle hour could not be spent in a much pleasanter way than in
watching Peter Wilkins go a-field with his gun or haul up the beast-fish
at the lonely creek. What can be more delightful than the description
how, wakened from dreams of home by the noise of strange voices
overhead, he sees fallen at his door the lovely winged woman Youwarkee!
Prudish people may be scandalised at the unreserved frankness shown
in the account of the consummation of Wilkins' marriage with this fair
creature; but the editor was unwilling to mutilate the book in the
interests of such refined readers. A man or a woman who can find
anything to shock his or her feelings in the description of Youwarkee's
bridal night deserves the commiseration of sensible people. Very
charming is the picture of the children sitting round the fire on the
long winter evenings listening wide-eyed to the ever-fresh story of
their father's marvellous adventures. The wholesome morality, the
charitableness and homely piety apparent throughout, give the narrative
a charm denied to many works of greater literary pretension. When Peter
Wilkins leaves his solitary home to live among the winged people, the
interest of the story, it must be confessed, is somewhat diminished.
The author's obligations to Swift in the latter part of the book are
considerable; and of course in describing how Peter Wilkins ordered his
life on the lonely island, he was largely indebted to Defoe. But the
creation of the winged beings is Paltock's own. It has been suggested
that he named his hero after John Wilkins, Bishop of Chester, who, among
other curious theories, had seriously discussed the question whether men
could acquire the art of flying. In the second part of his "Mathematical
Magick," the Bishop writes: "Those things that seem very difficult
and fearfull at the first may grow very facil after frequent trial and
exercise: And therefore he that would effect any thing in this kind
must be brought up to the constant practice of it from his Youth; trying
first only to use his wings in running on the ground, as an Estrich or
tame geese will do, touching the earth with his toes; and so by degrees
learn to rise higher till he shall attain unto skill and confidence.
I have heard it from credible testimony that one of our nation hath
proceeded so far in this experiment that he was able by the help of
wings to skip constantly ten yards at a time." Youwarkee spread wide her
graundee, and in an instant was lost in the clouds. Had the author given
her the motion of a goose, or even of an ostrich--bah! the thought is
too dreadful.
Judicious reader, the long winter evenings have come round, and you have
now abundance of leisure. Let the poets stand idle on the shelves
till the return of spring, unless perchance you would fain resume
acquaintance with the "Seasons," which you have not read since a boy,
or would divert yourself with Prior or be grave with Crabbe. Now is the
time to feel once more the charm of Lamb's peerless and unique essays;
now is the time to listen to the honied voice of Leigh Hunt discoursing
daintily of men and books. So you will pass from Charles Lamb and Leigh
Hunt to the books they loved to praise. Exult in the full-blooded,
bracing life which pulses in the pages of Fielding; and if Smollett's
mirth is occasionally too riotous and his taste too coarse, yet confess
that all faults must be pardoned to the author of "Humphry Clinker."
Many a long evening you will spend pleasantly with Defoe; and then,
perchance, after a fresh reading of the thrice and four times wonderful
adventures of Robinson Crusoe, you will turn to the romance of "Peter
Wilkins." So may rheums and catarrhs be far from you, and may your
hearth be crowned with content!
A. H. B.
5 Willow Road, Hampstead, November 1883.
LIFE AND ADVENTURES
OF
PETER WILKINS.
A Cornish Man:
Relating particularly,
His Shipwreck near the South Pole; his wonderful Passage thro' a
subterraneous Cavern into a kind of new World; his there meeting with a
Gawry or flying woman, whose Life he preserv'd, and afterwards married
her; his extraordinary Conveyance to the Country of Glums and Gawrys, or
Men and Women that fly. Likewise a Description of this strange Country,
with the Laws, Customs, and Manners of its Inhabitants, and the Author's
remarkable Transactions among them.
Taken from his own Mouth, in his Passage to England from off Cape Horn
in America, in the ship Hector,
With an INTRODUCTION, giving an Account of the surprizing Manner of his
coming on board that Vessel, and his Death on his landing at Plymouth in
the Year 1739.
Illustrated with several Cuts, clearly and distinctly representing the
Structure and Mechanism of the Wings of the Glums and Gawrys, and the
Manner in which they use them either to swim or fly.
To the Right Honourable
ELIZABETH,
Countess of Northumberland, Madam,
Few Authors, I believe, who write in my Way (whatever View they may set
out with) can, in the Prosecution of their Works, forbear to dress their
fictitious Characters in the real Ornaments themselves have been most
delighted with.
THIS, I confess, hath been my Case, in the Person of _Youwarkee_, in
the following Sheets; for having formed her Body, I found myself at an
inexpressible Loss how to adorn her Mind in the masterly Sentiments
I coveted to endue her with; 'till I recollected the most aim[i]able
Pattern in your Ladyship; a single View of which, at a Time of the
utmost fatigue to his Lordship, hath charmed my Imagination ever since.
If a Participater of the Cares of Life in general, alleviates the
Concerns of Man; what an invaluable Blessing must that Lady prove, to
the Softness of whose Sex Nature hath conjoined an Aptitude for Council,
an Application, Zeal, and Dispatch but too rarely found in his own!
Had my Situation in Life been so happy as to have presented me with
Opportunities of more frequent and minuter Remarks upon your Ladyship's
Conduct, I might have defy'd the whole _British_ Fair to have outshone
my southern Gawry: For if, to a majestic Form and extensive Capacity, I
had been qualified to have copied that natural Sweetness of Disposition,
that maternal Tenderness, that Cheerfulness, that Complacency,
Condescension, Affability, and unaffected Benevolence, which so
apparently distinguish the Countess of _Northumberland_; I had exhibited
in my _Youwarkee_ a Standard for future Generations.
Madam, I am the more sensible of my Speaking but the Truth from the
late Instance of your Benignity, which entitles me to the Honour of
subscribing myself,
Madam, Your Ladyship's
most obliged and
most obedient Servant,
R. P.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
CHAPTER I.
Giving an account of the authors birth and family--The fondness of his
mother--His being put to an academy at sixteen by the advice of his
friend--His thoughts of his own illiterature
CHAPTER II.
How he spent his time at the academy--An intrigue with a servant maid
there--She declares herself with child by him--Her expostulations with
him--He is put to it for money--Refused it from home by his friend, who
had married his mother--Is drawn in to marry the maid--She lies in at
her aunts--Returns to her service--He has another child by her
CHAPTER III.
Minds his studies--Informs his master of his mother's marriage and usage
of him--Hears of her death--Makes his master his guardian--Goes with
him to take possession of his estate--Is informed all is given to his
father-in-law--Moral reflections on his condition and on his father's
crimes
CHAPTER IV.
Departs secretly from his master--Travels to Bristol--Religious thoughts
by the way--Enters on shipboard, and is made captain's steward
CHAPTER V.
His first entertainment en board--Sets sail--His sickness--Engagement
with a French privateer--Is taken and laid in irons--Twenty-one
prisoners turned adrift in a small boat with only two days' provisions
CHAPTER VI.
The boat, two hundred leagues from land, makes no way, but drives more
to sea by the wind--The people live nine days at quarter allowance--Four
die with hunger the twelfth day--Five more the fourteenth day--On the
fifteenth they eat one just dead--Want of water excessive--They spy a
sail--Are taken up--Work their passage to the African shore--One sent on
a secret expedition--Are way-laid, taken, made slaves, and sent up the
country
CHAPTER VII.
The author escapes with Glanlepze, a native--His hardships
in travel--Plunder of a cottage--His fears--Adventure with a
crocodile--Passage of a river--Adventure with a lioness and
whelps--Arrives at Glanlepze's house--The trial of Glanlepze s wife's
constancy--The tender meeting of her and her husband--The author's
reflections thereupon
CHAPTER VIII.
How the author passed his time with Glanlepze--His acquaintance with
some English prisoners--They project an escape--He joins them--They
seize a Portuguese ship and get off--Make a long run from land--Want
water--They anchor at a desert island--The boat goes on shore for
water--They lose their anchor in a storm--The author and one Adams drove
to sea--A miraculous passage to a rock--Adams drowned there--The authors
miserable condition
CHAPTER IX.
He thinks of destroying himself--His soliloquy--Strange accident in
the hold--His surprise--Can't climb the rock--His method to sweeten his
water--Lives many months on board--Ventures to sea in his boat several
times and takes many fish--Almost overcome by an eel
CHAPTER X.
Lays in great store of provisions--Resolves to traverse the rock--Sails
for three weeks, still seeing it only--Is sucked under the rock, and
hurried down a cataract--Continues there five weeks--His description of
the cavern--His thoughts and difficulties--His arrival at a great lake,
and his landing in the beautiful country of Graundevolet
CHAPTER XI.
His joy on his arrival at land--A description of the place--No
inhabitants--Wants fresh water--Resides in a grotto--Finds water--Views
the country--Carries his things to the grotto
CHAPTER XII.
An account of the grotto--A room added to it--A view of that
building--The author makes a little cart--Also a wet dock for his
boat--Goes in quest of provision--A description of divers fruits and
plants--He brings home a cartload of different sorts--Makes experiments
on them--Loads his cart with others--A great disappointment--Makes good
bread--Never sees the sun--The nature of the light
CHAPTER XIII.
The author lays in a store against the dark weather--Hears voice--His
thoughts thereon--Persuades himself it was a dream--Hears them
again--Determines to see if any one lodged in the rock--Is satisfied
there is nobody--Observations on what he saw--Finds a strong weed
like whip-cord--Makes a dragnet--Lengthens it--Catches a monster--Its
description--Makes oil of it
CHAPTER XIV.
The author passes the summer pleasantly--Hears the voices in the
winter--Ventures out--Sees a strange sight on the lake--His uneasiness
at it--His dream--Soliloquy--Hears the voices again, and perceives a
great shock on his building--Takes up a beautiful woman--He thinks her
dead, but recovers her--A description of her--She stays with him
CHAPTER XV.
He is afraid of losing his new mistress--They live together all
winter--A remark on that--They begin to know each others language--A
long discourse between them at cross purposes--She flies--They engage to
be man and wife
CHAPTER XVI.
The author's disappointment at first going to bed with his new
wife--Some strange circumstances relating thereto--She resolves several
questions he asks her, and clears up his fears as to the voices--A
description of swangeans
CHAPTER XVII.
Youwarkee cannot bear a strong light--Her husband makes her spectacles,
which help her--A description of them
CHAPTER XVIII.
Youwarkee with child--The author's stock of provisions--No beast or
fish in Youwarkee's country--The voices again--Her reason for not
seeing those who uttered 'em--She bears a son--A hard speech in her
lying-in--Divers birds appear--Their eggs gathered--How the author kept
account of time
CHAPTER XIX.
His concern about clothing for Pedro, his eldest son--His discourse with
his wife about the ship--Her flight to it--His melancholy reflections
'till her return--An account of what she had done, and of what she
brought--She clothes her children and takes a second flight
CHAPTER XX.
The author observes her flight--A description of a glumm in the
graundee--She finds out the gulf not far from the ship--Brings home more
goods--Makes her a gown by her husband's instruction
CHAPTER XXI.
The author gets a breed of poultry--By what means--Builds them a
house--How he managed to keep them in winter
CHAPTER XXII.
Reflections on mankind--The author wants to be with his ship--Projects
going, but perceives it impracticable--Youwarkee offers her service,
and goes--An account of her transactions on board--Remarks on her
sagacity--She despatches several chests of goods through the gulf to
the lake--An account of a danger she escaped--The author has a fit of
sickness
CHAPTER XXIII.
The religion of the author's family
CHAPTER XXIV.
An account of his children--Their names--They are exercised in
flying--His boat crazy--Youwarkee intends a visit to her father, but
first takes another flight to the ship--Sends a boat and chests through
the gulf--Clothes her children--Is with child again, so her visit is put
off--An inventory of the last freight of goods--The authors method of
treating his children--Youwarkee, her son Tommy, with her daughters
Patty and Hallycarnie, set out for her father's
CHAPTER XXV.
Youwarkee's account of the stages to Arndrumnstake--The author uneasy
at her flight--His employment in her absence, and preparations for
receiving her father--How he spent the evenings with the children
CHAPTER XXVI.
His concern at Youwarkee's stay--Reflections on his condition--Hears
a voice call him--Youwarkee's brother Quangrollart visits him with a
companion--He treats them at the grotto--The brother discovers himself
by accident--The author presents his children to him
CHAPTER XXVII.
Quangrollarf s account of Youwarkee's journey, and reception at her
father's
THE INTRODUCTION.
It might be looked upon as impertinent in me, who am about to give the
life of another, to trouble the reader with any of my own concerns,
or the affairs that led me into the South Seas. Therefore I shall only
acquaint him, that in my return on board the "Hector," as a passenger,
round Cape Horn, for England, full late in the season, the wind and
currents setting strong against us, our ship drove more southernly, by
several degrees, than the usual course, even to the latitude of 75 or
76; when the wind chopping about, we began to resume our intended
way. It was about the middle of June, when the days are there at the
shortest, on a very starry and moonlight night, that we observed at some
distance a very black cloud, but seemingly of no extraordinary size or
height, moving very fast towards us, and seeming to follow the ship,
which then made great way. Every one on deck was very curious in
observing its motions; and perceiving it frequently to divide, and
presently to close again, and not to continue long in any determined
shape, our captain, who had never before been so far to the southward as
he then found himself, had many conjectures what this phenomenon might
portend; and every one offering his own opinion, it seemed at last to be
generally agreed that there might possibly be a storm gathering in the
air, of which this was the prognostic; and by its following, and nearly
keeping pace with us, we were in great fear lest it should break upon
and overwhelm us, if not carefully avoided. Our commander, therefore,
as it approached nearer and nearer, ordered one of the ship's guns to be
fired, to try if the percussion of the air would disperse it. This was
no sooner done than we heard a prodigious flounce in the water, at but
a small distance from the ship, on the weather-quarter; and after
a violent noise, or cry in the air, the cloud, that upon our firing
dissipated, seemed to return again, but by degrees disappeared. Whilst
we were all very much surprised at this unexpected accident, I, being
naturally very curious and inquisitive into the causes of all unusual
incidents, begged the captain to send the boat to see, if possible, what
it was that had fallen from the cloud, and offered myself to make one in
her. He was much against this at first, as it would retard his voyage,
now we were going so smoothly before the wind. But in the midst of
our debate, we plainly heard a voice calling out for help, in our own
tongue, like a person in great distress. I then insisted on going, and
not suffering a fellow-creature to perish for the sake of a trifling
delay. In compliance with my resolute demand, he slackened sail; and
hoisting out the boat, myself and seven others made to the cry, and soon
found it to come from an elderly man, labouring for life, with his arms
across several long poles, of equal size at both ends, very light, and
tied to each other in a very odd manner. The sailors at first were very
fearful of assisting or coming near him, crying to each other, "He must
be a monster!" and perhaps might overset the boat and destroy them; but
hearing him speak English, I was very angry with them for their foolish
apprehensions, and caused them to clap their oars under him, and at
length we got him into the boat. He had an extravagant beard, and also
long blackish hair upon his head. As soon as he could speak (for he
was almost spent), he very familiarly took me by the hand, I having set
myself close by him to observe him, and squeezing it, thanked me very
kindly for my civility to him, and likewise thanked all the sailors. I
then asked him by what possible accident he came there; but he shook
his head, declining to satisfy my curiosity. Hereupon reflecting that it
might just then be troublesome for him to speak, and that we should
have leisure enough in our voyage for him to relate, and me to hear, his
story (which, from the surprising manner of his falling amongst us, I
could not but believe would contain something very remarkable), I waived
any farther speech with him at that time.
We had him to the ship, and taking off his wet clothes, put him to bed
in my cabin; and I having a large provision of stores on board, and
no concern in the ship, grew very fond of him, and supplied him with
everything he wanted. In our frequent discourses together, he had
several times dropped loose hints of his past transactions, which but
the more inflamed me with impatience to hear the whole of them. About
this time, having just begun to double the Cape, our captain thought of
watering at the first convenient place; and finding the stranger had no
money to pay his passage, and that he had been from England no less than
thirty-five years, despairing of his reward for conducting him thither,
he intimated to him that he must expect to be put on shore to shift for
himself, when we put in for water. This entirely sunk the stranger's
spirits, and gave me great concern, insomuch that I fully resolved, if
the captain should really prove such a brute, to take the payment of his
passage on myself.
As we came nearer to the destined watering, the captain spoke the
plainer of his intentions (for I had not yet hinted my design to him
or any one else); and one morning the stranger came into my cabin, with
tears in his eyes, telling me he verily believed the captain would be
as good as his word, and set him on shore, which he very much dreaded.
I did not choose to tell him immediately what I designed in his favour,
but asked him if he could think of no way of satisfying the captain,
or any one else, who might thereupon be induced to engage for him; and
farther, how he expected to live when he should get to England, a man
quite forgotten and penniless. Hereupon he told me he had, ever since
his being on board, considering his destitute condition, entertained a
thought of having his adventures written; which, as there was something
so uncommon in them, he was sure the world would be glad to know; and he
had flattered himself with hopes of raising somewhat by the sale of them
to put him in a way of living; but as it was plain now he should never
see England without my assistance, if I would answer for his passage,
and write his life, he would communicate to me a faithful narrative
thereof, which he believed would pay me to the full any charge I might
be at on his account. I was very well pleased with this overture, not
from the prospect of gain by the copy, but from the expectation I had of
being fully satisfied in what I had so long desired to know; so I told
him I would make him easy in that respect. This quite transported
him: he caressed me, and called me his deliverer, and was then going
open-mouthed to the captain to tell him so. But I put a stop to that:
For, says I, though I insist upon hearing your story, the captain may
yet relent of his purpose, and not leave you on shore; and if that
should prove the case, I shall neither part with my money for you, nor
you with your interest in your adventures to me. Whereupon he agreed I
was right, and desisted.
When we had taken in best part of our water, and the boat was going its
last turn, the captain ordered up the strange man, as they called him,
and told him he must go on board the boat, which was to leave him on
shore with some few provisions. I happening to hear nothing of these
orders, they were so sudden, the poor man was afraid, after all, he
should have been hurried to land without my knowledge: but begging very
hard of the captain only for leave to speak with me before he went, I
was called (though with some reluctance, for the captain disliked me
for the liberties I frequently took with him, on account of his brutal
behaviour). I expostulated with the cruel wretch on the inhumanity of
the action he was about; telling him, if he had resolved the poor man
should perish, it would have been better to have suffered him to do so
when he was at the last extremity, than to expose him afresh, by this
means, to a death as certain, in a more lingering and miserable way. But
the savage being resolved, and nothing moved by what I said, I paid him
part of the passage down, and agreed to pay the rest at our arrival in
England.
Thus having reprieved the poor man, the next thing was to enter upon my
new employ of amanuensis: and having a long space of time before us,
we allotted two hours every morning for the purpose of writing down his
life from his own mouth; and frequently, when wind and weather kept us
below, we spent some time of an afternoon in the same exercise, till
we had quite completed it. But then there were some things in it so
indescribable by words, that if I had not had some knowledge in drawing,
our history had been very incomplete. Thus it must have been, especially
in the description of the _Glumms_ and _Gawrys_ therein mentioned. In
order to gain (that so I might communicate) a clear idea of these, I
made several drawings of them from his discourses and accounts; and,
at length, after divers trials, I made such exact delineations, that
he declared they could not have been more perfect resemblances if I had
drawn them from the life. Upon a survey, he confessed the very persons
themselves could not have been more exact. I also drew with my pencil
the figure of an aerial engagement, which, having likewise had his
approbation, I have given a draught of, plate the sixth.
Then, having finished the work to our mutual satisfaction, I locked it
up, in order to peruse it at leisure, intending to have presented it to
him at our arrival in England, to dispose of as he pleased, in such
a way as might have conduced most to his profit; for I resolved,
notwithstanding our agreement, and the obligations he was under to
me, that the whole of that should be his own. But he, having been in a
declining state some time before we reached shore, died the very night
we landed; and his funeral falling upon me, I thought I had the greatest
right to the manuscript, which, however, I had no design to have parted
with; but showing it to some judicious friends, I have by them been
prevailed with not to conceal from the world what may prove so very
entertaining, and perhaps useful.
R. P.
A GENUINE ACCOUNT
OF THE
LIFE OF PETER WILKINS.
CHAPTER I.
Giving an account of the author's birth and family--The fondness of
his mother--His being put to an academy at sixteen by the advice of his
friend--His thoughts of his own illiterature
I was born at Penhale, in the county of Cornwall, on the 21st day of
December 1685, about four months after my father, Peter Wilkins, who
was a zealous Protestant of the Church of England, had been executed
by Jeffreys, in Somersetshire, for joining in the design of raising the
Duke of Monmouth to the British throne. I was named, after my father and
grandfather, Peter, and was my father's only child by Alice his wife,
the daughter of John Capert, a clergyman in a neighbouring village. My
grandfather was a shopkeeper at Newport, who, by great frugality and
extraordinary application, had raised a fortune of about £160 a year
in lands, and a considerable sum of ready money, all which at his
death devolved upon my father, as his only child; who, being no less
parsimonious than my grandfather, and living upon his own estate, had
much improved it in value before his marriage with my mother; but he
coming to that unhappy end, my mother, after my birth, placed all her
affection upon me (her growing hope, as she called me), and used every
method, in my minority, of increasing the store for my benefit.
In this manner she went on, till I grew too big, as I thought, for
confinement at the apron-string, being then about fourteen years of age;
and having met with so much indulgence from her, for that reason found
very little or no contradiction from anybody else; so I looked on myself
as a person of some consequence, and began to take all opportunities of
enjoying the company of my neighbours, who hinted frequently that the
restraint I was under was too great a curb upon an inclination like
mine of seeing the world; but my mother, still impatient of any little
absence, by excessive fondness, and encouraging every inclination I
seemed to have, when she could be a partaker with me, kept me within
bounds of restraint till I arrived at my sixteenth year.
About this time I got acquainted with a country gentleman, of a small
paternal estate, which had been never the better for being in his hands,
and had some uneasy demands upon it. He soon grew very fond of me,
hoping, as I had reason afterwards to believe, by a union with my
mother to set himself free from his entanglements. She was then about
thirty-five years old, and still continued my father's widow, out
of particular regard to me, as I have all the reason in the world to
believe. She was really a beautiful woman, and of a sanguine complexion,
but had always carried herself with so much reserve, and given so little
encouragement to any of the other sex, that she had passed her widowhood
with very few solicitations to alter her way of life. This gentleman
observing my mother's conduct, in order to ingratiate himself with her,
had shown numberless instances of regard for me; and, as he told my
mother, had observed many things in my discourse, actions, and turn of
mind, that presaged wonderful expectations from me, if my genius was but
properly cultivated.
This discourse, from a man of very good parts, and esteemed by everybody
an accomplished gentleman, by degrees wrought upon my mother, and more
and more inflamed her with a desire of adding what lustre she could to
my applauded abilities, and influenced her so far as to ask his advice
in what manner most properly to proceed with me. My gentleman then had
his desire, for he feared not the widow, could he but properly dispose
of her charge; so having desired a little time to consider of a matter
of such importance, he soon after told her he thought the most useful
method of establishing me would be at an academy, kept by a very worthy
and judicious gentleman, about thirty, or more, miles from us, in
Somersetshire; where, if I could but be admitted, the master taking in
but a stated number of students at a time, he did not in the least doubt
but I should fully answer the character he had given her of me, and
outshine most of my contemporaries.
My mother, over-anxious for my good, seeming to listen to this proposal,
my friend (as I call him) proposed taking a journey himself to the
academy, to see if any place was vacant for my reception, and learn the
terms of my admission; and in three days' time returned with an engaging
account of the place, the master, the regularity of the scholars, of an
apartment secured for my reception, and, in short, whatever else might
captivate my mother's opinion in favour of his scheme; and indeed,
though he acted principally from another motive, as was plain
afterwards, I cannot help thinking he believed it to be the best way of
disposing of a lad sixteen years old, born to a pretty fortune, and who,
at that age, could but just read a chapter in the Testament; for he had
before beat my mother quite out of her inclination to a grammar-school
in the neighbourhood, from a contempt, he said, it would bring upon
me from lads much my juniors in years, by being placed in the first
rudiments of learning with them.
Well, the whole concern of my mother's little family was now employed
in fitting me out for my expedition; and as my friend had been so
instrumental in bringing it about, he never missed a day inquiring
how preparations went on; and during the process, by humouring me,
ingratiated himself more and more with my mother, but without seeming in
the least to aim at it. In short, the hour of my departure arrived; and
though I had never been master of above a sixpence at one time, unless
at a fair or so, for immediate spending, my mother, thinking to make my
heart easy at our separation (which, had it appeared otherwise, would
have broke hers, and spoiled all), gave me a double pistole in gold, and
a little silver in my pocket to prevent my changing it.
Thus I (the coach waiting for us at the door), having been preached into
a good liking of the scheme by my friend, who now insisted upon making
one of our company to introduce us, mounted the carriage with more
alacrity than could be expected for one who had never before been beyond
the smoke of his mother's chimney; but the thoughts I had conceived,
from my friend's discourse, of liberty in the academic way, and the
weight of so much money in my pocket, as I then imagined would scarce
ever be exhausted, were prevailing cordials to keep my spirits on the
wing. We lay at an inn that night, near the master's house, and the next
day I was initiated; and, at parting with me, my friend presented me
with a guinea. When I found myself thus rich, I must say I heartily
wished they were all fairly at home again, that I might have time
to count my cash, and dispose of such part of it as I had already
appropriated to several uses then in embryo.
The next morning left me master of my wishes, for my mother came and
took her last (though she little thought it) leave of me, and smothering
me with her caresses and prayers for my well-doing, in the height of
her ardour put into my hand another guinea, promising to see me again
quickly; and desiring me, in the meantime, to be a very good husband,
which I have since taken to be a sort of prophetic speech, she bid me
farewell.
I shall not trouble you with the reception I met from my master, or his
scholars, or tell you how soon I made friends of all my companions, by
some trifling largesses which my stock enabled me to bestow as occasion
required; but I must inform you that, after sixteen years of idleness at
home, I had but little heart to my nouns and pronouns, which now
began to be crammed upon me; and being the eldest lad in the house,
I sometimes regretted the loss of the time past, and at other times
despaired of ever making a scholar at my years; and was ashamed to
stand like a great lubber, declining of _hæc mulier_ a woman, whilst
my schoolfellows, and juniors by five years, were engaged in the love
stories of Ovid, or the luscious songs of Horace. I own these thoughts
almost overcame me, and threw me into a deep melancholy, of which I soon
after, by letter, informed my mother; who (by the advice, as I suppose,
of my friend, by this time her suitor) sent me word to mind my studies,
and I should want for nothing.