Transcriber's note:
This work is by Robert Southey. It is a fictitious account of an
imaginary Spanish nobleman travelling through England.
Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Hyphenation has been
rationalised. Inconsistent spelling (including accents and capitals) has
been retained.
Small capitals have been replaced by full capitals. Italics are
indicated by _underscores_ and greek by +plus signs+.
LETTERS
FROM
ENGLAND:
BY
DON MANUEL ALVAREZ ESPRIELLA.
_TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH._
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
THIRD EDITION.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND
BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1814.
EDINBURGH:
Printed by James Ballantyne & Co.
CONTENTS
OF THE
THIRD VOLUME.
LETTER LIV.
Page
The Bible.—More mischievous when first translated than it is at
present: still hurtful to a few, but beneficial to many.—Opinion that
the Domestic Use of the Scriptures would not be injurious in Spain
1
LETTER LV.
Curiosity and Credulity of the English.—The Wild Indian Woman.—The
Large Child.—The Wandering Jew.—The Ethiopian Savage.—The Great High
German Highter-Flighter.—The Learned Pig
14
LETTER LVI.
Newspapers.—Their Mode of falsifying Intelligence.—Puffs.—
Advertisements.—Reviews, and their mischievous Effects.—
Magazines.—Novels
23
LETTER LVII.
Account of the Quakers 43
LETTER LVIII.
Winter Weather.—Snow.—Christmas.—Old Customs gradually disused 67
LETTER LIX.
Cards.—Whist.—Treatises upon this Game.—Pope Joan.—Cards never used on
the Sabbath, and heavily taxed.—Ace of Spades
75
LETTER LX.
Growth of the Commercial Interest.—Family Pride almost extinct.—Effect
of heavy Taxation.—Titles indiscriminately granted.—Increase of the
House of Peers
83
LETTER LXI.
Despard's Conspiracy.—Conduct of the Populace on that Occasion.—War.—
The Question examined whether England is in Danger of a
Revolution.—Ireland
95
LETTER LXII.
Account of Swedenborgianism 113
LETTER LXIII.
Jews in England 141
LETTER LXIV.
Infidelity.—Its Growth in England and little Extent.—Pythagoreans.—
Thomas Tryon.—Ritson.—Pagans.—A Cock sacrificed.—Thomas Taylor
155
LETTER LXV.
Eagerness of the English to be at war with Spain 168
LETTER LXVI.
Excursion to Greenwich.—Watermen.—Patent Shot Tower.—Albion
Mills.—Essex Marshes
176
LETTER LXVII.
Spanish Gravity the Jest of the English.—Sunday Evening
described.—Society for the Suppression of Vice.—Want of
Holidays.—Bull-baiting.—Boxing
185
LETTER LXVIII.
The Abbé Barruel.—Journey of two Englishmen to Avignon to join a
Society of Prophets.—Extracts from their Prophetical Books
195
LETTER LXIX.
Account of Richard Brothers 223
LETTER LXX.
Account of Joanna Southcott 236
LETTER LXXI.
The Coxcomb.—Fashionables.—Fops.—Egyptian Fashions.—Dances.—
Visiting.—Walkers.—The Fancy.—Agriculturists.—The Fat Ox.—
The Royal Institution.—Metaphysics
270
LETTER LXXII.
Westminster Abbey on Fire—Frequency of Fires in England.—Means devised
for preventing and for extinguishing them; but not in use
288
LETTER LXXIII.
Remarks on the English Language 299
LETTER LXXIV.
Departure from London.—West Kennet.—Use of the Words Horse and
Dog.—Bath.—Ralph Allen.—The Parades.—Beau Nash.—Turnspits
309
LETTER LXXV.
Road from Bath to Bristol.—Cornu-Ammonis.—Bristol.—Exchange.—
Market.—Cathedral.—The Brazen Eagle.—Clifton.—Bristol-Wells.—
Anecdote of Kosciusko
331
LETTER LXXVI.
Journey from Bristol to Plymouth.—Advantages which the Army
enjoys more than the Navy.—Sailors.—Journey to Falmouth
350
ESPRIELLA'S
LETTERS FROM ENGLAND.
LETTER LIV.
_The Bible.—More mischievous when first translated than it is at
present: still hurtful to a few, but beneficial to many.—Opinion that
the domestic Use of the Scriptures would not be injurious in Spain._
The first person who translated the Bible into English was Wickliffe,
the father in heresy of John Hus, Jerome of Prague, and the Bohemian
rebels, and thus the author of all the troubles in Germany. His bones
were, by sentence of the Council of Constance, dug up, and burnt, and
the ashes thrown into a river, near Lutterworth, in the province of
Leicestershire. The river has never from that time, it is said, flooded
the adjoining meadows: this is capable of a double construction; and
accordingly, while the heretics say that the virtue of his relics
prevents the mischief, the catholics on the other hand affirm that it is
owing to the merit of the execution.
It was translated a second time under Henry VIII. at the commencement of
the schism, and most of the translators, for many were engaged, suffered
in one place or another by fire. I would not be thought, even by
implication, to favour punishments so cruel, which our age, when zeal is
less exasperated and better informed, has disused; but that the workmen
came to such unhappy end may be admitted as some presumption that the
work was not good.[1] In fact, the translation of the scriptures
produced at first nothing but mischief. Then was fully exemplified what
St Jerome had said so many centuries ago. _Sola scripturarum ars est,
quam sibi omnes passim judicant. Hanc garrula anus, hanc delirus senex,
hanc sophista verbosus, hanc universi præsumunt, lacerant, docent, ante
quam discant._ There seemed to be no end to the multiplication of
heresies, and the divisions and subdivisions of schism. You remember
Feyjoo's story of the English house which contained within itself three
distinct churches, the whole family consisting of only father, mother,
and son. Bellarmine relates one equally curious which he heard from a
witness of the fact. The heretical priest was reading in his church, as
is customary, a portion of the English Bible, and it happened to be the
twenty-fifth chapter of Ecclesiasticus. "All wickedness is but little to
the wickedness of a woman. As the climbing up a sandy way is to the feet
of the aged, so is a wife full of words to a quiet man.—Of the woman
came the beginning of sin, and through her we all die.—Give the water no
passage; neither a wicked woman liberty to gad abroad." One of his
female auditors sate swelling with anger till she could bear no more.
"Do you call this the word of God?" said she. "I think it is the word of
the devil." And she knocked down the Bible and left the church.
But that the free use of a translation should do mischief at first, and
more especially in those unhappy times, is no argument against it in the
present day. You have asked me what is its effect at present. I reply to
the question with diffidence, and you must remember that what I say is
the result of enquiry, not of observation.
How little the unthinking and ignorant part of the community understand
their Scriptures, and they are the majority of every community, you may
judge by this example. The fungus which grows in circular groups, is
believed here to start up in the place where a diminutive race of beings
dance by night, whom they call Fairies, and who in many things,
particularly in their mischievous propensities, seem to resemble our
_Duendes_. A clergyman was one day walking with one of his parishioners
over his fields, and the man observed as he passed one of these rings,
that the fairies were never seen now, as they used to be in old
times.—"What do you mean by old times?"—"In the times of the
Scriptures."—"Nay," said the priest, "I am sure you never read of them
in the Scriptures."—"Yes, I do, and I hear you read of them almost every
Sunday at church."—You may conceive the priest's astonishment—"Hear me
read of them?" he exclaimed. The man persisted,—"It is no longer ago
than last Sunday you read about the Scribes and _Pharisees_."
There is another class to whom it is pernicious: these are they who
having zeal without knowledge think themselves qualified to explain
difficult texts, and meddle with the two-edged sword of theological
controversy. One man, reading that Christ said, "My Father is greater
than I," without further consideration becomes an Arian; the phrase "Son
of Man" makes another a Socinian; a third extracts Calvinism out of St
Paul.—There is a sect called Jumpers, who run out of their conventicles
into the streets and highways, shouting out "Glory! Glory!" and jumping
all the while with incessant vehemence till their strength is totally
exhausted. If you ask the reason of this frantic devotion, they quote
Scripture for it!—When Elizabeth heard the salutation of Mary the most
Holy, the babe leaped in her womb: the lame man whom Peter and John
healed at the gate of the temple, leaped, and praised God: and David
danced before the Ark! These fanatics are confined to Wales, where the
people are half savages.
Many of the higher classes live, as you may suppose, so entirely without
God in the world, that to them it would be of no consequence if the
scriptures existed in no other language than the original Greek and
Hebrew. But in all ranks of society there are numbers of persons to whom
the perusal of God's own word is an inestimable comfort. No book of
devotion would so certainly fix their attention; not only because no
other can be regarded with such reverence, but also because none is in
itself so interesting. It is a pleasure to them, as well as a
consolation; and probably some important maxim, some striking example,
nay perhaps even some divine truth, may be thus more deeply imprest upon
the heart than it otherwise would be, especially in a land where the
priest imparts no domestic instructions,—his functions being confined to
the church, and the churchyard. In sickness, in sorrow, and in old age,
in resignation under sufferings inflicted, or in thankfulness for
blessings vouchsafed, they go to their Bible instead of their beads,
with humble hearts and perfect faith; fervently feeling all that they
understand, and devoutly believing all that is above their
comprehension. These persons are schismatics, because they were born so;
if it was not their misfortune, it would not be their crime; and I hope
I may be permitted to hope, that in their case the sins of the fathers
will not be visited upon the children. He who has threatened this has
promised also to show mercy unto thousands in them that love him,—and
England has been fruitful of saints and martyrs.
Do I then think, from what the domestic use of the Holy Scriptures
produces in England, that it would be beneficial in Spain? Speaking with
that diffidence which becomes me, and with perfect submission to the
Holy Church, I am of opinion that it would. St Jerome indeed has said,
_Melius est aliquid nescire, quam cum periculo discere_; and St Basil
has compared the effects of the Scriptures upon weak minds, to that of
strong meats upon a sickly stomach. But the days of Julian Hernandez and
Cypriano de Valera are happily over; we have an authorised translation,
free from perversion; and were it printed in a cheaper form, I think
much of the good which it does in England would be produced, and none of
the evil. It might also have the good effect of supplanting some of
those books of devotion which savour too much of credulity, and do
little service and less honour to religion. But in saying this I speak
humbly, and with the most perfect submission to authority.
The English Bible is regarded as one of the most beautiful specimens of
the language, which indeed it fixed. The privilege of printing it is
restricted to the two universities, and the king's printer, in order, I
suppose, to preserve the text correct; yet some impressions once got
abroad wherein the negative in the seventh commandment had been omitted,
and it was said Thou _shalt_ commit adultery. Means have been devised of
eluding this exclusive privilege, by printing a commentary with the
text; and in two magnificent Bibles (the price of one was above thirty
pieces of eight!) this was so plainly practised as a mere evasion, that
the commentary consisted in a single line, in every sheet, printed in
the smallest type, and so close to the bottom of the leaf that it must
be pared off in binding. These books are truly magnificent, and
honourable to the state of arts in the country. But there is a set of
booksellers in London, whose main business consists in publishing
worthless and catch-penny works for the ignorant in the country, and
these have always a great folio family Bible—as they call it—in course
of publication, ornamented with pitiful engravings, and published
periodically, because most of the deluded people who purchase it could
not afford to pay for it in any other manner. The cover of one of these
numbers was wrapt round some trifling article which I bought the other
day at a stationer's: it professed to render the most difficult passages
clear and familiar, to rectify mistranslations, reconcile the doubtful,
fix the wavering, confound the Infidel, establish the peace and
happiness of Christian families in this world, and secure their eternal
salvation in the next!
[1] D. Manuel and his confessor have forgotten that this miserable
argument, which the catholics are ready enough to advance when it serves
their purpose, is equally applicable to all their own martyrs, and to
the Apostles themselves. It may not be amiss to subjoin here the fine
account of the death of one of these men, John Rogers, prebend of St
Paul's, whose martyrdom is thus alleged as a proof of his having
deserved it:
"He might have escaped, and had many motives, as his wife and ten
children, his friends in Germany, where he could not want preferment,
&c. But being once called to answer in Christ's cause, he would not
depart, though to the hazard of his life: from his own house he was
removed by Bonner to Newgate amongst the thieves and murderers: he was
examined by the Lord Chancellor and the rest of the Councell, and by
them was recommitted to prison: he was much pressed to recant; but,
stoutly refusing, was first excommunicated and degraded, and then
condemned: after which he desired that his wife (to whom he had been
married eighteen years, and by whom he had ten children, and she being a
stranger) might be admitted to come to him whilst he lived: but Stephen
Gardner, then Lord Chancellor, would by no means suffer it. February the
fourth, Anno Christi 1555, he was warned to prepare for death before he
rose: 'If it be so,' said he, 'I need not tie my points:' and so he was
presently had away to Bonner to be degraded, of whom he earnestly
requested to be admitted to speake with his wife, but could not prevail.
From thence he was carried into Smithfield; where scarce being permitted
to speake to the people, he briefly persuaded them to perseverance in
that truth which he had taught them, which also he was now ready to
seale with his blood: then was a pardon profered to him, if he would
recant, but he utterly refused it: his wife, with nine small children,
and the tenth sucking at her breast, came to him; but this sorrowful
sight nothing moved him; but in the flames he washed his hands, and with
wonderfull patience took his death; all the people exceedingly rejoicing
at his constancy, and praising God for it,"—_Abel Redivivus._—TR.
LETTER LV.
_Curiosity and Credulity of the English.—The Wild Indian Woman.—The
large Child.—The wandering Jew.—The Ethiopian Savage.—The Great High
German Highter-Flighter.—The Learned Pig._
My morning's walk has supplied me with two instances of English
credulity. Passing through St George's fields I saw a sort of tent
pitched, at the entrance of which a fellow stood holding a board in his
hand, on which was painted in large letters "_The Wild Indian
Woman_."—"What," said I to my companion, "do you catch the savages and
show them like wild beasts? This is worse than even the slave trade!"
"We will go in and see," said he. Accordingly we paid our sixpence each,
and, to our no small amusement, found one of the lowest order of the
worst kind of women, her face bedaubed with red and yellow, her hair
stuck with feathers, drest in cat-skins, and singing some unintelligible
gibberish in the true cracked voice of vulgar depravity. A few
passers-by, as idle and more ignorant than ourselves, who had in like
manner been taken in, were gazing at her in astonishment, and listening
open-mouthed to the rogue who told a long story how she came from the
wilds of America, where the people are heathen folk and eat one
another.—We had not gone a mile further before another showman, with a
printed paper on his show-board, invited our attention again—"_To be
seen here, the surprising Large Child_." This was a boy who seemed to be
about four years old; and because he was stupid, and could only
articulate a few words very imperfectly, his parents swore he was only
of eighteen months—and were showing him for a prodigy.
A few years ago there was a fellow with a long beard in London, who
professed himself to be the wandering Jew. He did not adhere to the
legend, which was of little consequence, as his visitors were not likely
to be better informed than himself,—but laid claim to higher antiquity
than the Jerusalem shoemaker, and declared that he had been with Noah in
the ark. Noah, he said, had refused to take him in; but he got in
secretly, and hid himself among the beasts, which is the reason why his
name is not mentioned in the Bible; and while he was there the he-goat
had given him a blow on the forehead, the mark of which was visible to
this day. Some persons asked him which country he liked best of all that
he had visited in his long peregrinations: he answered "Spain," as
perhaps a man would have done who had really seen all the world. But it
was remarked as rather extraordinary that a Jew should prefer the
country of the Inquisition. "God bless you, sir!" replied the ready
rogue, shaking his head and smiling at the same time, as if at the error
of the observation,—"it was long before Christianity that I was last in
Spain, and I shall not go there again till long after it is all over!"
Any thing in England will do for a show. At one of the provincial fairs
J. saw a shaved monkey exhibited for a Fairy; and a shaved bear in a
check waistcoat and trowsers sitting in an armed chair as an Ethiopian
savage. The unnatural position to which the poor animal had been
tortured, and the accursed brutality of his keeper, a woman, who sate
upon his lap, put her arm round his neck, and called him husband and
sweetheart and kissed him, made this, he says, the most hideous and
disgusting sight he had ever witnessed. A fellow at one of these fairs
once exhibited a large dragon-fly through a magnifying glass, as the
Great High German Highter-Flighter. But the most extraordinary distance
of witty impudence and blind curiosity which I have ever heard of,
occurred at Cirencester, in the province of Gloucestershire, where a man
showed for a penny apiece, the fork which belonged to the knife with
which Margaret Nicholson attempted to kill the King.
Nothing is too absurd to be believed by the people in this country. Some
time ago there was a woman who went about showing herself for money,
with a story that she had been pregnant three years. There was something
extraordinary concerning this impostor; for the house in which she
lived, which stood upon the shore in the province, or shire as it is
called, of Sussex, had no other walls or roof than laths and brown-paper
pitched over. It had stood three years without injury, when the person
who related this to me saw it. In the last reign[2] the whole kingdom
was astonished by a woman who pretended to breed rabbits, and the king's
surgeons were appointed by the state to examine her.—Many persons are
living who can remember when the people of London went to see a man get
into a quart bottle. This trick was practised for a wager, which some
one who knew the world ventured upon its credulity; but as impudent a
one was played off by a sharper in the city of Bristol at a later
period. He promised to make himself invisible, collected a company of
spectators, received their money for admittance, appeared on the stage
before them, and saying, "Now, gentlemen and ladies, you see me,"—opened
a trap-door and descended, and ran off with his gains.
Any thing that is strange, or that is called strange, a tall man or a
short man, a Goitre or an Albino, a white negro or a spotted negro,
which may be made at any time with little difficulty and no pain, a
great ox or a fat pig, no matter what the wonder be, and no matter how
monstrous or how disgusting, it will attract crowds in England. There
was a woman born without arms, who made a good livelihood by writing and
cutting paper with her toes. One family support themselves by living in
a travelling cart, made in the shape of the vessel wherein the English
boil water for their tea, the spout of which is the chimney. The learned
pig was in his day a far greater object of admiration to the English
nation than ever was Sir Isaac Newton. I met a person once who had lived
next door to the lodgings of this erudite swine, and in a house so
situated that he could see him at his rehearsals. He told me he never
saw the keeper beat him; but that, if he did not perform his lesson
well, he used to threaten to take off his red waistcoat,—for the pig was
proud of his dress. Perhaps even Solomon himself did not conceive that
vanity was so universal a passion.
Yet from this indiscriminate curiosity some general good arises. Natural
history has been considerably improved by the opportunities afforded of
examining rare animals, which would not have been brought from remote
countries for the mere purposes of science. Posture-masters and
stone-eaters have demonstrated strange and anomalous powers in the human
body; and the docility of animals, which has thus been practised upon
for the sake of immediate gain, may one day be applied to better and
more important purposes. Animals have no natural fear of man:—the birds
on a desert island are as fearless as they were in Paradise, and suffer
him to approach till he knocks them on the head. The power of the
Eastern jugglers, who by a song call forth the serpents from their
holes, is not more wonderful than that which has been acquired over bees
in England. The horse of the Arab is as well domesticated, and as
affectionately attached to his master, as the dog of the European. The
cattle from one end of Africa to the other are under the most perfect
obedience to their keeper; a boy will collect a herd of a thousand by
his whistle; by this easy language they are made to attack an armed
enemy as readily as to come to their milker; and they have thus
overthrown soldiers who had conquered the elephants of the East and the
cavalry of Europe. When man shall cease to be the tyrant of inferior
beings, he may truly become their lord.
[2] This circumstance happened in the latter end of the reign of
George I.—TR.
LETTER LVI.
_Newspapers.—Their Mode of falsifying Intelligence.—Puffs.—
Advertisements.—Reviews, and their mischievous Effects.—
Magazines.—Novels._
I have adhered strictly to J.'s advice respecting the literature of this
country, and allowed myself to read nothing but contemporary
publications, and such works as relate to my objects of immediate
enquiry, most of which were as little known to him as to myself. He
smiles when I bring home a volume of Quaker history, or Swedenborgian
theology, and says I am come here to tell him what odd things there are
in England. It is therefore only of that contemporary and perishable
literature which affects and shows the character of the nation that I
shall speak.
Of this the newspapers form the most important branch. They differ in
almost every respect from our diaries, and as much in appearance as in
any thing, being printed in four columns upon a large folio sheet. Some
are published daily, some twice, some thrice a-week, some only on
Sundays. Some come out in the morning, some in the evening; the former
are chiefly for London, and one is regularly laid upon the breakfast
table, wet from the press. The revenue which they produce is almost
incredibly great. At the commencement of the American war the price was
twopence. Lord North laid on a tax of a halfpenny, observing, with his
characteristic good humour, that nobody would begrudge to pay a
halfpenny for the pleasure of abusing the minister. This succeeded so
well that another was soon imposed, making the price threepence, which
price Mr Pitt has doubled by repeated duties; yet the number printed is
at least four-fold what it was before they were taxed at all.
Of those papers for which there is the greatest sale, from four to five
thousand are printed. It is not an exaggerated calculation to suppose
that every paper has five readers, and that there are 250,000 people in
England who read the news every day and converse upon it. In fact, after
the 'How do you do?' and the state of the weather, the news is the next
topic in order of conversation, and sometimes it even takes place of
cold, heat, rain, or sunshine. You will judge then that the newspapers
must be a powerful political engine. The ministry have always the
greater number under their direction, in which all their measures are
defended, their successes exaggerated, their disasters concealed or
palliated, and the most flattering prospects constantly held out to the
people. This system was carried to a great length during the late war.
If the numbers of the French who were killed in the ministerial
newspapers were summed up, they would be found equal to all the males in
the country, capable of bearing arms. Nor were these manufacturers of
good news contented with slaying their thousands; in the true style of
bombast, they would sometimes assert that a Republican army had been not
merely cut to pieces,—but annihilated. On the other hand, the losses of
the English in their continental expeditions were as studiously
diminished. Truth was indeed always to be got at by those who looked for
it; the papers in the opposite interest told all which their opponents
concealed, and magnified on their side to gratify their partisans. The
English have a marvellous faculty of believing what they wish, and
nothing else; for years and years did they believe that France was on
the brink of ruin; now the government was to be overthrown for want of
gunpowder, now by famine, now by the stale of their finances. The
Royalists in La Vendée were a never-failing source of hope. A constant
communication was kept up with them from some of the little islands on
the coast which are in possession of the English, from whence they were
supplied with money and arms; and the Republican commander in the
district used to farm out the privilege of going to dine with the
English governor, and receiving subsidies from him! Constant
disappointment has as little effect upon an English politician as upon
an alchemist, _Quod vult, credit; quod non vult, non credit_; he chuses
to be deceived, not to be told what he does not wish to hear, and to
have all good news magnified, like the Hidalgo, who put on spectacles
when he ate cherries to make them seem the finer. A staunch
ministerialist believes every thing which his newspaper tells him, and
takes his information and his opinions with the utmost confidence from a
paragraph-writer, who is paid for falsifying the one and misleading the
other. _Cephaleonomancy_, or the art of divination by an ass's head, is
a species of art magic which still flourishes in England.
Public events, however, form but a small part of the English newspapers,
and the miscellaneous contents are truly characteristic of the freedom
and the follies of this extraordinary people. In the same paper wherein
is to be found a political essay, perhaps of the boldest character and
profoundest reasoning, you meet with the annals of the world of fashion;
the history of my lord's dinner and my lady's ball; a report that the
young earl is about to be married, and that the old countess is leaving
town; you have the history of horse-races, cock-fights, and
boxing-matches—information that the king has taken a ride, and the
princess an airing; a string of puns, and a paragraph of scandal. Then
come what are called the puffs; that is to say, advertisements inserted
in an unusual shape, so that the reader, who would else have passed them
over, is taken by surprise. Thus, for instance, my eye was caught this
morning with something about the mines of Potosi, beginning a sentence
which ended in the price of lottery tickets. Puff-writing is one of the
strange trades in London. A gentleman, who had just published a
magnificent work, was called upon one morning by a person whom he had
never seen before.—"Sir," said the stranger, "I have taken the liberty
of calling on you in consequence of your publication. A most magnificent
book indeed, sir!—truly superb!—honourable to the state of arts
in the country, and still more so, sir, to you!—But, sir, I perceive
that you are not quite well acquainted with the science of
advertising.—Gentlemen, sir, like you, have not leisure to study these
things. I make it my particular profession, sir. An advertisement ought
always to be in a taking form,—always; there should be three different
ones to be inserted alternately. Sir, I shall be happy to have the
honour of serving you,—nothing is to be done without hitting the fancy
of the public.—My terms, sir, are half-a-guinea for three."
Another professor called upon this same gentleman; and after he had run
through the whole rosary of compliments, opened his business to this
effect,—That a work so superb as the one in question must necessarily
have its chief sale among people of fashion.—"Now, sir," said he, "I
live very much in high life, and have the best opportunities of
promoting its success. I have done a good deal in this way for Dr ——. I
suppose, sir, you allow centage?"—It proved that he had done a great
deal for the doctor, for he had received above a hundred pounds for him,
and by way of centage kept the whole.
The advertisements fill a large part of the paper, generally two pages,
and it is from these that the main profits both of the revenue and the
proprietors arise. The expense of advertising is so great, that to
announce a new book in the regular way amounts to no less a sum than
thirty pounds. The greater the sale of a newspaper, the more numerous
these become: this renders the paper less amusing, its purchasers fall
off; the advertisers then lessen in their turn; and this sort of rising
and falling is always going on. A selection of these advertisements
would form a curious book, and exhibit much of the state of England.
Sometimes a gentleman advertises for a wife, sometimes a lady for a
husband. Intrigues are carried on in them, and assignations made between
A. B. and C. D. Sometimes a line of cyphers appears. Sometimes Yes, or
No,—the single word and nothing more. At this very time a gentleman is
offering a thousand pounds to any lady who can serve him in a delicate
affair; a lady has answered him, they have had their meeting, she does
not suit his purpose, and he renews the offer of his enormous bribe,
which in all probability is meant as the price of some enormous villainy.
Poetry also occasionally appears. I have copied from one lately an odd
epigram, which plays upon the names of the various papers.
Alas! alas! the _World_ is ruined quite!
The _Sun_ comes out in the evening
And never gives any light.
Poor _Albion_ is no more,
The _Evening Star_ does not rise,
And the _True Briton_ tells nothing but lies;
Should they suppress the _British Press_
There would be no harm done;
There is no hope that the _Times_ will mend,
And it would be no matter
If the _Globe_ were at an end.[3]
Next in importance to the newspapers are the works of periodical
criticism, which are here called Reviews. Till of late years there were
only two of these, which, though generally in the interest of the
Dissenters, affected something like impartiality. During the late war
two others were set up to exercise a sort of inquisition over books
which were published, as the publication could not be prevented; to
denounce such as were mischievous, and to hold up their authors to
public hatred as bad subjects. Such zeal would be truly useful were it
directed by that wisdom which cannot err; but it is difficult to say
whether the infallible intolerance of these heretics be sometimes more
worthy of contempt or of indignation. Of late years it has become
impossible to place any reliance upon the opinions given by these
journals, because their party spirit now extends to every thing;
whatever be the subject of a book, though as remote as possible from all
topics of political dissension, it is judged of according to the
politics of the author:—for instance, one of these journals has
pronounced it to be jacobinical to read Hebrew without points. There are
other reasons why there is so little fair criticism. Many, perhaps the
majority, of these literary censors are authors themselves, and as such
in no very high estimation with the public. Baboons are said to have an
antipathy to men; and these, who are the baboons of literature, have the
same sort of hatred to those whose superiority they at once feel and
deny. You are not however to suppose that the general character of these
journals is that of undeserved severity: they have as many to praise as
to blame, and their commendations are dealt upon the same principle—or
want of principle—as their censures. England is but a little country;
and the communication between all its parts is so rapid, the men of
letters are so few, and the circulation of society brings them all so
often to London, as the heart of the system, that they are all directly
or indirectly known to each other;—a writer is praised because he is a
friend, or a friend's friend, or he must be condemned for a similar
reason. For the most part the praise of these critics is milk and water,
and their censure sour small-beer.[4] Sometimes indeed they deal in
stronger materials; but then the oil which Flattery lays on is
train-oil, and it stinks: and the dirt which Malevolence throws is
ordure, and it sticks to her own fingers.
Such journals, even if they were more honourably and more honestly
conducted, must from their very nature be productive rather of evil than
of good, both to the public and to the persons concerned in them. Many
are the readers who do not know, and few are they who will remember,
when they are perusing a criticism delivered in the plural language of
authority, that it is but the opinion of one man upon the work of
another. The public are deceived by this style. This however is a
transitory evil: the effect of the praise or censure which they can
bestow is necessarily short, and time settles the question when they are
forgotten. A more lasting mischief is, that they profess to show the
reader that short cut to wisdom and knowledge, which is the sure road to
conceit and ignorance. Criticism is to a large class of men what Scandal
is to women,—and women not unfrequently bear their part in it;—it is
indeed Scandal in masquerade. Upon an opinion picked up from these
journals, upon an extract fairly or unfairly quoted,—for the reviewers
scruple not at misquotations, at omissions which alter the meaning, or
mispunctuations which destroy it—you shall hear a whole company talk as
confidently about a book as if they had read it, and censure it as
boldly as if they had bestowed as much thought upon the subject as the
author himself, and were qualified, as his peers, to sit in judgment
upon him. The effect which these journals have produced is,—that as all
who read newspapers are politicians, so all who read books are critics.
This species of criticism is injurious to the writer; because, it being
understood that the business of a critic is to pass censure, he assumes
a superiority both of information and ability, which it is not likely
that he possesses in either; except over such authors as are too
insignificant to deserve notice, and whom it is cruel to murder when
they are dying. The habit of searching for faults, by the exposure of
which he is to manifest this superiority, must inevitably injure such a
man's moral character; he will contemplate his own powers with
increasing complacency, he will learn to take pleasure in inflicting
pain, he will cease to look for instruction, he will cease to reverence
genius, he will cease to love truth. Meantime he disguises both from
himself and the public his injustice to the living, by affecting for the
dead an admiration which it is not possible he can feel; just as the
Arian persecutors of old worshipped the saints, while they made martyrs.
Perhaps the greatest evil which this vile custom has occasioned is, that
by making new books one of the most ordinary topics of conversation, it
has made people neglect all other literature; so that the public, as
they call themselves, deriving no benefit from the wisdom of their
forefathers, applaud with wonder discoveries which are pilfered from old
authors on whom they suffer the dust to lie lightly, and are deluded by
sophisms which have been a hundred times confuted and exposed.
The Magazines are more numerous than the Reviews, and are more
interesting, because their use is not so temporary, and men appear in
them in their own characters; it is indeed interesting to see the
varieties of character which they exhibit. The Monthly and the
Gentleman's are the most popular: the latter has been established about
seventy years, and has thereby acquired a sort of hereditary rank of
which it is not likely soon to be dispossessed. The greater part of this
odd journal is filled with antiquarian papers,—and such papers!—One
gentleman sends a drawing of his parish church,—as mean a building
perhaps as can be made of stone and mortar, which is drawn in a most
miserable manner, and engraved in a way quite worthy of the subject.
With this he sends all the monumental inscriptions in the church; this
leads to a discussion concerning the families of the persons there
mentioned, though they never should have been heard of before out of the
limits of their own parish;—who the son married,—whether the daughter
died single, and other matter of equal interest and equal importance. If
there be a stone in the church with half a dozen Gothic letters legible
upon it, and at respectful distances from each other, he fills up the
gaps by conjecture: a controversy is sure to follow, which is continued
till the opponents grow angry, cavil at each other's style, and begin to
call names; when the editor interferes, and requests permission to close
the lists against them. The only valuable part is a long list of deaths
and marriages, wherein people look for the names of their acquaintance,
and which frequently contains such singular facts of human character and
human eccentricity, that a very curious selection might be made from it.
The Monthly is more miscellaneous in its contents, and its
correspondents aim at higher marks. Some discuss morals and metaphysics,
others amuse the world with paradoxes; all sorts of heretical opinions
are started here, agricultural hints thrown out, and queries propounded
of all kinds, wise and foolish. The best part is a sort of literary and
scientific newspaper, to which every body looks with interest. There are
many inferior magazines which circulate in a lower sphere, and are
seldom seen out of it. The wheat from all these publications should from
time to time be winnowed, and the chaff thrown away.
Literature is, like every thing else, a trade in England,—I might almost
call it a manufactory. One main article is that of Novels;—take the word
in its English sense, and understand it as extending to four volumes of
one continued tale of love. These are manufactured chiefly for women and
soldier-officers. To the latter they can do no harm; to the former a
great deal. The histories of chivalry were useful, because they carried
the imagination into a world of different manners; and many a man
imbibed from them Don Quixote's high-mindedness and emulation, without
catching his insanity. But these books represent ordinary and
contemporary manners, and make love the main business of life, which
both sexes at a certain age are sufficiently disposed to believe it.
They are doubtless the cause of many rash engagements and unhappy
marriages. Nor is this the only way in which they are mischievous: as
dram-drinkers have no taste for wine, so they who are accustomed to
these stimulating stories, yawn over a book of real value. And there is
as much time wasted in talking of them as in reading them. I have heard
a party of ladies discuss the conduct of the characters in a new novel,
just as if they were real personages of their acquaintance.
The circulating libraries consume these publications. In truth, the main
demand for contemporary literature comes from these libraries, or from
private societies instituted to supply their place, books being now so
inordinately expensive that they are chiefly purchased as furniture by
the rich. It is not a mere antithesis to say that they who buy books do
not read them, and that they who read them do not buy them. I have heard
of one gentleman who gave a bookseller the dimensions of his shelves, to
fit up his library; and of another, who, giving orders for the same kind
of furniture, just mentioned that he must have Pope, and Shakespere and
Milton. "And hark'ye," he added, "if either of those fellows should
publish any thing new, be sure to let me have it, for I choose to have
all their works."
[3] The rhymes in this epigram are so defective that the translator
supposes it must be inaccurately printed, but he can only copy it as he
finds it, not knowing where to recur to the original.—TR.
[4] In the original _aguapie_, which is to generous wine what small-beer
is to ale. As this word could not be translated, the equivalent one has
been used.—TR.
LETTER LVII.
_Account of the Quakers._
The most remarkable sect in this land of sectaries is unquestionably
that of the Quakers. They wear a peculiar dress, which is in fashion
such as grave people wore in the time of their founder, and always of
some sober colour. They never uncover their heads in salutation, nor in
their houses of worship; they have no form of worship, no order of
priests, and they reject all the Sacraments. In their meeting-houses
they assemble and sit in silence, unless any one should be disposed to
speak, in which case they suppose him to be immediately moved by the
Spirit; and any person is permitted to speak, women as well as men.
These, however, are only a few of their peculiarities. They call the
days of the week and the months according to their numerical order,
saying that their common names are relics of idolatry. The English,
instead of addressing each other in the second person singular, use the
second plural. This idiom the Quakers reject as the language of flattery
and falsehood, and adhere to the strict grammatical form. They will not
take an oath; and such is the opinion of their moral character, that
their affirmation is admitted in courts of justice to have the same
force. They will not pay tithes; the priest therefore is obliged to
seize their goods for his due. They will not bear arms, neither will
they be concerned in any branch of trade or manufactory which is
connected with war, nor in any which is so dependent upon accident as to
partake of the nature of gaming. They prohibit cards and other games,
music, dancing, and the theatre. A drunken Quaker is never seen, nor a
criminal one ever brought to the bar. Their habits of patient and
unhazarding industry ensure success; and accordingly they are, in
proportion to their numbers, wealthier than any other set of people.
They support their own poor, and take the lead in every public charity.
What is truly extraordinary is, that though they seem to have advanced
to the utmost limits of enthusiasm as well as of heresy, so far from
being enthusiastic, they are proverbially deliberate and prudent: so far
from being sullen and gloomy, as their prohibitions might induce you to
suppose, they are remarkably cheerful: they are universally admitted to
be the most respectable sect in England; and though they have a church
without a priesthood, and a government without a head, they are perhaps
the best organized and most unanimous society that ever existed.
Were it not for their outrageous and insufferably heretical opinions, it
might be thought that any government would gladly encourage so
peaceable, so moral, and so industrious a people. On the contrary,
though they are at present peculiarly favoured by the English laws,
there was a time when they were the objects of especial persecution. I
will endeavour briefly to sketch their history;—it contains some
interesting facts, and may furnish some important inferences. One of the
many remarkable circumstances belonging to this remarkable body is, that
though they are now the least literate of all the English sects, they
possess more ample collections of their own church history than any
other Christian church, or even than any monastic order. If the acts of
the Apostles had been as fully and faithfully recorded as the acts of
the Quakers, what a world of controversy and confusion would have been
prevented.
George Fox, their founder, began his career during the great rebellion.
There never was a time in which it could be more excusable to go astray.
The heretical church of England, by attempting to assimilate itself to
the church of Rome, in a few forms, while it pertinaciously differed
from it in essentials, and by persecuting those who refused to submit to
those forms, had provoked a resistance which ended in its own overthrow.
It was an age of ecclesiastical anarchy. Hypocrisy was the reigning
vice; the least sincere were the most zealous: discordant doctrines were
preached every where, and pious and humble-minded men, puzzled by this
confusion of errors, knew not which to chuse. They who in this
perplexity stood aloof from any community were so many, that they were
distinguished by the name of _Seekers_. George Fox seems to have
possessed much of the zeal, the simplicity and tenderness of the
seraphic St Francis, (if I may be allowed to compare a heretic with so
glorious a saint in his human qualities,)—but, having no better guide to
follow than his own nature, no wonder that he was misled. His mind ran
upon religious things when he was but a youth, and he had leisure to
think of them in the solitary employment of keeping sheep. At length,
unable to bear the burthen of his thoughts, he went to one of the
heretical priests and laid open to him the state of his mind. The
priest's advice was, that he should take tobacco and sing psalms.
In this uneasy state he abandoned all other pursuits, and wandered about
the country in search of truth, which at last, by following wholly the
feelings of his own heart, he thought he had attained. During his
wanderings he met with many persons of a similar state of uneasiness;
and, being thus emboldened, began to fancy himself divinely commissioned
to call men to repentance,—a commission which he and his followers soon
thought proper to put in execution. Their zeal was not at first
accompanied with discretion; they went into the churches and interrupted
the preachers;—there needed not this imprudence to provoke men who were
already sufficiently irritated by their doctrines. The priests became
their cruel enemies, and often instigated the people to fall upon them.
The heretics even in their churches used their Bibles to knock down
these enthusiasts with; they were beaten down with clubs, stoned, and
trampled upon, and some of them lost their lives.