BOOK II

CHAPTER ONE

CHARACTERS OF SILLY PEOPLE, WITH THE PROPER USES FOR WHICH SUCH

ARE DESIGNED.

One reason why we chose to end our first book, as we did, with the

last chapter, was, that we are now obliged to produce two

characters of a stamp entirely different from what we have

hitherto dealt in. These persons are of that pitiful order of

mortals who are in contempt called good-natured; being indeed sent

into the world by nature with the same design with which men put

little fish into a pike-pond, in order to be devoured by that

voracious water-hero.

But to proceed with our history: Wild, having shared the booty in

much the same manner as before, i.e. taken three-fourths of it,

amounting to eighteen-pence, was now retiring to rest, in no very

happy mood, when by accident he met with a young fellow who had

formerly been his companion, and indeed intimate friend, at

school. It hath been thought that friendship is usually nursed by

similitude of manners, but the contrary had been the case between

these lads; for whereas Wild was rapacious and intrepid, the other

had always more regard far his skin than his money; Wild therefore

had very generously compassionated this defect in his school-

fellow, and had brought him off from many scrapes, into most of

which he had first drawn him, by taking the fault and whipping to

himself. He had always indeed been well paid on such occasions;

there are a sort of people who, together with the best of the

bargain, will be sure to have the obligation too on their side; so

it had happened here: for this poor lad had considered himself in

the highest degree obliged to Mr. Wild, and had contracted a very

great esteem and friendship for him; the traces of which an

absence of many years had not in the least effaced in his mind. He

no sooner knew Wild, therefore, than he accosted him in the most

friendly manner, and invited him home with him to breakfast (it

being now near nine in the morning), which invitation our hero

with no great difficulty consented to. This young man, who was

about Wild's age, had some time before set up in the trade of a

jeweller, in the materials or stock for which he had laid out the

greatest part of a little fortune, and had married a very

agreeable woman for love, by whom he then had two children. As our

reader is to be more acquainted with this person, it may not be

improper to open somewhat of his character, especially as it will

serve as a kind of foil to the noble and great disposition of our

hero, and as the one seems sent into this world as a proper object

on which the talents of the other were to be displayed with a

proper and just success.

Mr. Thomas Heartfree then (for that was his name) was of an honest

and open disposition. He was of that sort of men whom experience

only, and not their own natures, must inform that there are such

things as deceit and hypocrisy in the world, and who,

consequently, are not at five-and-twenty so difficult to be

imposed upon as the oldest and most subtle. He was possessed of

several great weaknesses of mind, being good-natured, friendly,

and generous to a great excess. He had, indeed, too little regard

to common justice, for he had forgiven some debts to his

acquaintance only because they could not pay him, and had

entrusted a bankrupt, on his setting up a second time, from having

been convinced that he had dealt in his bankruptcy with a fair and

honest heart, and that he had broke through misfortune only, and

not from neglect or imposture. He was withal so silly a fellow

that he never took the least advantage of the ignorance of his

customers, and contented himself with very moderate gains on his

goods; which he was the better enabled to do, notwithstanding his

generosity, because his life was extremely temperate, his expenses

being solely confined to the chearful entertainment of his friends

at home, and now and then a moderate glass of wine, in which he

indulged himself in the company of his wife, who, with an

agreeable person, was a mean-spirited, poor, domestic, low-bred

animal, who confined herself mostly to the care of her family,

placed her happiness in her husband and her children, followed no

expensive fashions or diversions, and indeed rarely went abroad,

unless to return the visits of a few plain neighbours, and twice

a-year afforded herself, in company with her husband, the

diversion of a play, where she never sat in a higher place than

the pit.

To this silly woman did this silly fellow introduce the GREAT

WILD, informing her at the same time of their school acquaintance

and the many obligations he had received from him. This simple

woman no sooner heard her husband had been obliged to her guest

than her eyes sparkled on him with a benevolance which is an

emanation from the heart, and of which great and noble minds,

whose hearts never dwell but with an injury, can have no very

adequate idea; it is therefore no wonder that our hero should

misconstrue, as he did, the poor, innocent, and ample affection of

Mrs. Heartfree towards her husband's friend, for that great and

generous passion, which fires the eyes of a modern heroine, when

the colonel is so kind as to indulge his city creditor with

partaking of his table to-day, and of his bed tomorrow. Wild,

therefore, instantly returned the compliment as he understood it,

with his eyes, and presently after bestowed many encomiums on her

beauty, with which, perhaps, she, who was a woman, though a good

one, and misapprehended the design, was not displeased any more

than the husband.

When breakfast was ended, and the wife retired to her household

affairs, Wild, who had a quick discernment into the weaknesses of

men, and who, besides the knowledge of his good (or foolish)

disposition when a boy, had now discovered several sparks of

goodness, friendship, and generosity in his friend, began to

discourse over the accidents which had happened in their

childhood, and took frequent occasions of reminding him of those

favours which we have before mentioned his having conferred on

him; he then proceeded to the most vehement professions of

friendship, and to the most ardent expressions of joy in this

renewal of their acquaintance. He at last told him, with great

seeming pleasure, that he believed he had an opportunity of

serving him by the recommendation of a gentleman to his custom,

who was then on the brink of marriage. "And, if he be not already

engaged, I will," says he, "endeavour to prevail on him to furnish

his lady with jewels at your shop."

Heartfree was not backward in thanks to our hero, and, after many

earnest solicitations to dinner, which were refused, they parted

for the first time.

But here, as it occurs to our memory that our readers may be

surprised (an accident which sometimes happens in histories of

this kind) how Mr. Wild, the elder, in his present capacity,

should have been able to maintain his son at a reputable school,

as this appears to have been, it may be necessary to inform him

that Mr. Wild himself was then a tradesman in good business, but,

by misfortunes in the world, to wit, extravagance and gaming, he

had reduced himself to that honourable occupation which we have

formerly mentioned.

Having cleared up this doubt, we will now pursue our hero, who

forthwith repaired to the count, and, having first settled

preliminary articles concerning distributions, he acquainted him

with the scheme which he had formed against Heartfree; and after

consulting proper methods to put it in execution, they began to

concert measures for the enlargement of the count; on which the

first, and indeed only point to be considered, was to raise money,

not to pay his debts, for that would have required an immense sum,

and was contrary to his inclination or intention, but to procure

him bail; for as to his escape, Mr. Snap had taken such

precautions that it appeared absolutely impossible.

CHAPTER TWO

GREAT EXAMPLES OF GREATNESS IN WILD, SHEWN AS WELL BY HIS

BEHAVIOUR TO BAGSHOT AS IN A SCHEME LAID, FIRST, TO IMPOSE ON

HEARTFREE BY MEANS OF THE COUNT, AND THEN TO CHEAT THE COUNT OF

THE BOOTY.

Wild undertook therefore to extract some money from Bagshot, who,

notwithstanding the depredations made on him, had carried off a

pretty considerable booty from their engagement at dice the

preceding day. He found Mr. Bagshot in expectation of his bail,

and, with a countenance full of concern, which he could at any

time, with wonderful art, put on, told him that all was

discovered; that the count knew him, and intended to prosecute him

for the robbery, "had not I exerted (said he) my utmost interest,

and with great difficulty prevailed on him in case you refund the

money--" "Refund the money!" cryed Bagshot, "that is in your

power: for you know what an inconsiderable part of it fell to my

share." "How!" replied Wild, "is this your gratitude to me for

saving your life? For your own conscience must convince you of

your guilt, and with how much certainty the gentleman can give

evidence against you." "Marry come up!" quoth Bagshot; "I believe

my life alone will not be in danger. I know those who are as

guilty as myself. Do you tell me of conscience?" "Yes, sirrah!"

answered our hero, taking him by the collar; "and since you dare

threaten me I will shew you the difference between committing a

robbery and conniving at it, which is all I can charge myself

with. I own indeed I suspected, when you shewed me a sum of money,

that you had not come honestly by it." "How!" says Bagshot,

frightened out of one half of his wits, and amazed out of the

other, "can you deny?" "Yes, you rascal," answered Wild, "I do

deny everything; and do you find a witness to prove it: and, to

shew you how little apprehension I have of your power to hurt me,

I will have you apprehended this moment."--At which words he

offered to break from him; but Bagshot laid hold of his skirts,

and, with an altered tone and manner, begged him not to be so

impatient. "Refund then, sirrah," cries Wild, "and perhaps I may

take pity on you." "What must I refund?" answered Bagshot. "Every

farthing in your pocket," replied Wild; "then I may have some

compassion on you, and not only save your life, but, out of an

excess of generosity, may return you something." At which words

Bagshot seeming to hesitate, Wild pretended to make to the door,

and rapt out an oath of vengeance with so violent an emphasis,

that his friend no longer presumed to balance, but suffered Wild

to search his pockets and draw forth all he found, to the amount

of twenty-one guineas and a half, which last piece our generous

hero returned him again, telling him he might now sleep secure.

but advised him for the future never to threaten his friends.

Thus did our hero execute the greatest exploits with the utmost

ease imaginable, by means of those transcendent qualities which

nature had indulged him with, viz., a bold heart, a thundering

voice, and a steady countenance.

Wild now returned to the count, and informed him that he had got

ten guineas of Bagshot; for, with great and commendable prudence,

he sunk the other eleven into his own pocket, and told him with

that money he would procure him bail, which he after prevailed on

his father, and another gentleman of the same occupation, to

become, for two guineas each, so that he made lawful prize of six

more, making Bagshot debtor for the whole ten; for such were his

great abilities, and so vast the compass of his understanding,

that he never made any bargain without overreaching (or, in the

vulgar phrase, cheating) the person with whom he dealt.

The count being, by these means, enlarged, the first thing they

did, in order to procure credit from tradesmen, was the taking a

handsome house ready furnished in one of the new streets; in which

as soon as the count was settled, they proceeded to furnish him

with servants and equipage, and all the insignia of a large estate

proper to impose on poor Heartfree. These being all obtained, Wild

made a second visit to his friend, and with much joy in his

countenance acquainted him that he had succeeded in his

endeavours, and that the gentleman had promised to deal with him

for the jewels which he intended to present his bride, and which

were designed to be very splendid and costly; he therefore

appointed him to go to the count the next morning, and carry with

him a set of the richest and most beautiful jewels he had, giving

him at the same time some hints of the count's ignorance of that

commodity, and that he might extort what price of him he pleased;

but Heartfree told him, not without some disdain, that he scorned

to take any such advantage; and, after expressing much gratitude

to his friend for his recommendation, he promised to carry the

jewels at the hour and to the place appointed.

I am sensible that the reader, if he hath but the least notion of

greatness, must have such a contempt for the extreme folly of this

fellow, that he will be very little concerned at any misfortunes

which may befal him in the sequel; for to have no suspicion that

an old schoolfellow, with whom he had, in his tenderest years,

contracted a friendship, and who, on the accidental renewing of

their acquaintance, had professed the most passionate regard for

him, should be very ready to impose on him; in short, to conceive

that a friend should, of his own accord, without any view to his

own interest, endeavour to do him a service, must argue such

weakness of mind, such ignorance of the world, and such an

artless, simple, undesigning heart, as must render the person

possessed of it the lowest creature and the properest object of

contempt imaginable, in the eyes of every man of understanding and

discernment.

Wild remembered that his friend Heartfree's faults were rather in

his heart than in his head; that, though he was so mean a fellow

that he was never capable of laying a design to injure any human

creature, yet was he by no means a fool, nor liable to any gross

imposition, unless where his heart betrayed him. He therefore

instructed the count to take only one of his jewels at the first

interview, and reject the rest as not fine enough, and order him

to provide some richer. He said this management would prevent

Heartfree from expecting ready money for the jewel he brought with

him, which the count was presently to dispose of, and by means of

that money, and his great abilities at cards and dice, to get

together as large a sum as possible, which he was to pay down to

Heartfree at the delivery of the set of jewels, who would be thus

void of all manner of suspicion and would not fail to give him

credit for the residue.

By this contrivance, it will appear in the sequel that Wild did

not only propose to make the imposition on Heartfree, who was

(hitherto) void of all suspicion, more certain; but to rob the

count himself of this sum. This double method of cheating the very

tools who are our instruments to cheat others is the superlative

degree of greatness, and is probably, as far as any spirit crusted

over with clay can carry it, falling very little short of

diabolism itself.

This method was immediately put in execution, and the count the

first day took only a single brilliant, worth about three hundred

pounds, and ordered a necklace, earrings, and solitaire, of the of

three thousand more, to be prepared by that day sevennight.

The interval was employed by Wild in prosecuting his scheme of

raising a gang, in which he met with such success, that within a

few days he had levied several bold and resolute fellows, fit for

any enterprize, how dangerous or great soever.

We have before remarked that the truest mark of greatness is

insatiability. Wild had covenanted with the count to receive

three-fourths of the booty, and had, at the same time, covenanted

with himself to secure the other fourth part likewise, for which

he had formed a very great and noble design; but he now saw with

concern that sum which was to be received in hand by Heartfree in

danger of being absolutely lost. In order therefore to possess

himself of that likewise, he contrived that the jewels should be

brought in the afternoon, and that Heartfree should be detained

before the count could see him; so that the night should overtake

him in his return, when two of his gang were ordered to attack and

plunder him.

CHAPTER THREE

CONTAINING SCENES OF SOFTNESS, LOVE, AND HONOUR ALL IN THE GREAT

STILE.

The count had disposed of his jewel for its full value, and this

he had by dexterity raised to a thousand pounds; this sum

therefore he paid down to Heartfree, promising him the rest within

a month. His house, his equipage, his appearance, but, above all,

a certain plausibility in his voice and behaviour would have

deceived any, but one whose great and wise heart had dictated to

him something within, which would have secured him from any danger

of imposition from without. Heartfree therefore did not in the

least scruple giving him credit; but, as he had in reality

procured those jewels of another, his own little stock not being

able to furnish anything so valuable, he begged the count would be

so kind to give his note for the money, payable at the time he

mentioned; which that gentleman did not in the least scruple; so

he paid him the thousand pound in specie, and gave his note for

two thousand eight hundred pounds more to Heartfree, who burnt

with gratitude to Wild for the noble customer he had recommended

to him.

As soon as Heartfree was departed, Wild, who waited in another

room, came in and received the casket from the count, it having

been agreed between them that this should be deposited in his

hands, as he was the original contriver of the scheme, and was to

have the largest share. Wild, having received the casket, offered

to meet the count late that evening to come to a division, but

such was the latter's confidence in the honour of our hero, that

he said, if it was any inconvenience to him, the next morning

would do altogether as well. This was more agreeable to Wild, and

accordingly, an appointment being made for that purpose, he set

out in haste to pursue Heartfree to the place where the two

gentlemen were ordered to meet and attack him. Those gentlemen

with noble resolution executed their purpose; they attacked and

spoiled the enemy of the whole sum he had received from the count.

As soon as the engagement was over, and Heartfree left sprawling

on the ground, our hero, who wisely declined trusting the booty in

his friends' hands, though he had good experience of their honour,

made off after the conquerors: at length, they being all at a

place of safety, Wild, according to a previous agreement, received

nine-tenths of the booty: the subordinate heroes did indeed

profess some little unwillingness (perhaps more than was strictly

consistent with honour) to perform their contract; but Wild,

partly by argument, but more by oaths and threatenings, prevailed

with them to fulfil their promise.

Our hero having thus, with wonderful address, brought this great

and glorious action to a happy conclusion, resolved to relax his

mind after his fatigue, in the conversation of the fair. He

therefore set forwards to his lovely Laetitia; but in his way

accidentally met with a young lady of his acquaintance, Miss Molly

Straddle, who was taking the air in Bridges-street. Miss Molly,

seeing Mr. Wild, stopped him, and with a familiarity peculiar to a

genteel town education, tapped, or rather slapped him on the back,

and asked him to treat her with a pint of wine at a neighbouring

tavern. The hero, though he loved the chaste Laetitia with

excessive tenderness, was not of that low sniveling breed of

mortals who, as it is generally expressed, TYE THEMSELVES TO A

WOMANS APRON-STRINGS; in a word, who are tainted with that mean,

base, low vice, or virtue as it is called, of constancy; therefore

he immediately consented, and attended her to a tavern famous for

excellent wine, known by the name of the Rummer and Horseshoe,

where they retired to a room by themselves. Wild was very vehement

in his addresses, but to no purpose; the young lady declared she

would grant no favour till he had made her a present; this was

immediately complied with, and the lover made as happy as he could

desire.

The immoderate fondness which Wild entertained for his dear

Laetitia would not suffer him to waste any considerable time with

Miss Straddle. Notwithstanding, therefore, all the endearments and

caresses of that young lady, he soon made an excuse to go down

stairs, and thence immediately set forward to Laetitia without

taking any formal leave of Miss Straddle, or indeed of the drawer,

with whom the lady was afterwards obliged to come to an account

for the reckoning.

Mr. Wild, on his arrival at Mr. Snap's, found only Miss Doshy at

home, that young lady being employed alone, in imitation of

Penelope, with her thread or worsted, only with this difference,

that whereas Penelope unravelled by night what she had knit or

wove or spun by day, so what our young heroine unravelled by day

she knit again by night. In short, she was mending a pair of blue

stockings with red clocks; a circumstance which perhaps we might

have omitted, had it not served to show that there are still some

ladies of this age who imitate the simplicity of the ancients.

Wild immediately asked for his beloved, and was informed that she

was not at home. He then enquired where she was to be found, and

declared he would not depart till he had seen her, nay not till he

had married her; for, indeed, his passion for her was truly

honourable; in other words, he had so ungovernable a desire for

her person, that he would go any length to satisfy it. He then

pulled out the casket, which he swore was full of the finest

jewels, and that he would give them all to her, with other

promises, which so prevailed on Miss Doshy, who had not the common

failure of sisters in envying, and often endeavouring to

disappoint, each other's happiness, that she desired Mr. Wild to

sit down a few minutes, whilst she endeavoured to find her sister

and to bring her to him. The lover thanked her, and promised to

stay till her return; and Miss Doshy, leaving Mr. Wild to his

meditations, fastened him in the kitchen by barring the door (for

most of the doors in this mansion were made to be bolted on the

outside), and then, slapping to the door of the house with great

violence, without going out at it, she stole softly up stairs

where Miss Laetitia was engaged in close conference with Mr.

Bagshot. Miss Letty, being informed by her sister in a whisper of

what Mr. Wild had said, and what he had produced, told Mr. Bagshot

that a young lady was below to visit her whom she would despatch

with all imaginable haste and return to him. She desired him

therefore to stay with patience for her in the mean time, and that

she would leave the door unlocked, though her papa would never

forgive her if he should discover it. Bagshot promised on his

honour not to step without his chamber; and the two young ladies

went softly down stairs, when, pretending first to make their

entry into the house, they repaired to the kitchen, where not even

the presence of the chaste Laetitia could restore that harmony to

the countenance of her lover which Miss Theodosia had left him

possessed of; for, during her absence, he had discovered the

absence of a purse containing bank-notes for 900 pounds, which had

been taken from Mr. Heartfree, and which, indeed, Miss Straddle

had, in the warmth of his amorous caresses, unperceived drawn from

him. However, as he had that perfect mastery of his temper, or

rather of his muscles, which is as necessary to the forming a

great character as to the personating it on the stage, he soon

conveyed a smile into his countenance, and, sealing as well his

misfortune as his chagrin at it, began to pay honourable addresses

to Miss Letty. This young lady, among many other good ingredients

had three very predominant passions; to wit, vanity, wantonness,

and avarice. To satisfy the first of these she employed Mr. Smirk

and company; to the second, Mr. Bagshot and company; and our hero

had the honour and happiness of solely engrossing the third. Now,

these three sorts of lovers she had very different ways of

entertaining. With the first she was all gay and coquette; with

the second all fond and rampant; and with the last all cold and

reserved. She therefore told Mr. Wild, with a most composed

aspect, that she was glad he had repented of his manner of

treating her at their last interview, where his behaviour was so

monstrous that she had resolved never to see him any more; that

she was afraid her own sex would hardly pardon her the weakness

she was guilty of in receding from that resolution, which she was

persuaded she never should have brought herself to, had not her

sister, who was there to confirm what she said (as she did with

many oaths), betrayed her into his company, by pretending it was

another person to visit her: but, however, as he now thought

proper to give her more convincing proofs of his affections (for

he had now the casket in his hand), and since she perceived his

designs were no longer against her virtue, but were such as a

woman of honour might listen to, she must own--and then she

feigned an hesitation, when Theodosia began: "Nay, sister, I am

resolved you shall counterfeit no longer. I assure you, Mr. Wild,

she hath the most violent passion for you in the world; and

indeed, dear Tishy, if you offer to go back, since I plainly see

Mr. Wild's designs are honourable, I will betray all you have ever

said." "How, sister!" answered Laetitia; "I protest you will drive

me out of the room: I did not expect this usage from you." Wild

then fell on his knees, and, taking hold of her hand, repeated a

speech, which, as the reader may easily suggest it to himself, I

shall not here set down. He then offered her the casket, but she

gently rejected it; and on a second offer, with a modest

countenance and voice, desired to know what it contained. Wild

then opened it, and took forth (with sorrow I write it, and with

sorrow will it be read) one of those beautiful necklaces with

which, at the fair of Bartholomew, they deck the well-bewhitened

neck of Thalestris queen of Amazons, Anna Bullen, queen Elizabeth,

or some other high princess in Drollic story. It was indeed

composed of that paste which Derdaeus Magnus, an ingenious toy-

man, doth at a very moderate price dispense of to the second-rate

beaus of the metropolis. For, to open a truth, which we ask our

reader's pardon for having concealed from him so long, the

sagacious count, wisely fearing lest some accident might prevent

Mr. Wild's return at the appointed time, had carefully conveyed

the jewels which Mr. Heartfree had brought with him into his own

pocket, and in their stead had placed in the casket these

artificial stones, which, though of equal value to a philosopher,

and perhaps of a much greater to a true admirer of the

compositions of art, had not however the same charms in the eyes

of Miss Letty, who had indeed some knowledge of jewels; for Mr.

Snap, with great reason, considering how valuable a part of a

lady's education it would be to be well instructed in these

things, in an age when young ladies learn little more than how to

dress themselves, had in her youth placed Miss Letty as the

handmaid (or housemaid as the vulgar call it) of an eminent

pawnbroker. The lightning, therefore, which should have flashed

from the jewels, flashed from her eyes, and thunder immediately

followed from her voice. She be-knaved, be-rascalled, be-rogued

the unhappy hero, who stood silent, confounded with astonishment,

but more with shame and indignation, at being thus outwitted and

overreached. At length he recovered his spirits, and, throwing

down the casket in a rage, he snatched the key from the table,

and, without making any answer to the ladies, who both very

plentifully opened upon him, and without taking any leave of them,

he flew out at the door, and repaired with the utmost expedition

to the count's habitation.

CHAPTER FOUR

IN WHICH WILD, AFTER MANY FRUITLESS ENDEAVOURS TO DISCOVER HIS

FRIEND, MORALISES ON HIS MISFORTUNE IN A SPEECH, WHICH MAY BE OF

USE (IF RIGHTLY UNDERSTOOD) TO SOME OTHER CONSIDERABLE SPEECH-

MAKERS.

Not the highest-fed footman of the highest-bred woman of quality

knocks with more impetuosity than Wild did at the count's door,

which was immediately opened by a well-drest liveryman, who

answered that his master was not at home. Wild, not satisfied with

this, searched the house, but to no purpose; he then ransacked all

the gaming-houses in town, but found no count: indeed, that

gentleman had taken leave of his house the same instant Mr. Wild

had turned his back, and, equipping himself with boots and a post-

horse, without taking with him either servant, clothes, or any

necessaries for the journey of a great man, made such mighty

expedition that he was now upwards of twenty miles on his way to

Dover.

Wild, finding his search ineffectual, resolved to give it over for

that night; he then retired to his seat of contemplation, a night-

cellar, where, without a single farthing in his pocket, he called

for a sneaker of punch, and, placing himself on a bench by

himself, he softly vented the following soliloquy:--

"How vain is human GREATNESS! What avail superior abilities, and a

noble defiance of those narrow rules and bounds which confine the

vulgar, when his best-concerted schemes are liable to be defeated!

How unhappy is the state of PRIGGISM! How impossible for human

prudence to foresee and guard against every circumvention! It is

even as a game of chess, where, while the rook, or knight, or

bishop, is busied forecasting some great enterprize, a worthless

pawn exposes and disconcerts his scheme. Better had it been for me

to have observed the simple laws of friendship and morality than

thus to ruin my friend for the benefit of others. I might have

commanded his purse to any degree of moderation: I have now

disabled him from the power of serving me. Well! but that was not

my design. If I cannot arraign my own conduct, why should I, like

a woman or a child, sit down and lament the disappointment of

chance? But can I acquit myself of all neglect? Did I not

misbehave in putting it into the power of others to outwit me? But

that is impossible to be avoided. In this a prig is more unhappy

than any other: a cautious man may, in a crowd, preserve his own

pockets by keeping his hands in them; but while the prig employs

his hands in another's pocket, how shall he be able to defend his

own? Indeed, in this light, what can be imagined more miserable

than a prig? How dangerous are his acquisitions! how unsafe, how

unquiet his possessions! Why then should any man wish to be a

prig, or where is his greatness? I answer, in his mind: 'tis the

inward glory, the secret consciousness of doing great and

wonderful actions, which can alone support the truly GREAT man,

whether he be a CONQUEROR, a TYRANT, a STATESMAN, or a PRIG. These

must bear him up against the private curse and public imprecation,

and, while he is hated and detested by all mankind, must make him

inwardly satisfied with himself. For what but some such inward

satisfaction as this could inspire men possessed of power, wealth,

of every human blessing which pride, avarice, or luxury could

desire, to forsake their homes, abandon ease and repose, and at

the expense of riches and pleasures, at the price of labour and

hardship, and at the hazard of all that fortune hath liberally

given them, could send them at the head of a multitude of prigs,

called an army, to molest their neighbours; to introduce rape,

rapine, bloodshed, and every kind of misery among their own

species? What but some such glorious appetite of mind could

inflame princes, endowed with the greatest honours, and enriched

with the most plentiful revenues, to desire maliciously to rob

those subjects of their liberties who are content to sweat for the

luxury, and to bow down their knees to the pride, of those very

princes? What but this can inspire them to destroy one half of

their subjects, in order to reduce the rest to an absolute

dependence on their own wills, and on those of their brutal

successors? What other motive could seduce a subject, possessed of

great property in his community, to betray the interest of his

fellow-subjects, of his brethren, and his posterity, to the wanton

disposition of such princes? Lastly, what less inducement could

persuade the prig to forsake the methods of acquiring a safe, an

honest, and a plentiful livelihood, and, at the hazard of even

life itself, and what is mistaken called dishonour, to break

openly and bravely through the laws of his country, for uncertain,

unsteady, and unsafe gain? Let me then hold myself contented with

this reflection, that I have been wise though unsuccessful, and am

a CHEAT though an unhappy man."

His soliloquy and his punch concluded together; for he had at

every pause comforted himself with a sip. And now it came first

into his head that it would be more difficult to pay for it than

it was to swallow it; when, to his great pleasure, he beheld at

another corner of the room one of the gentlemen whom he had

employed in the attack on Heartfree, and who, he doubted not,

would readily lend him a guinea or two; but he had the

mortification, on applying to him, to hear that the gaming-table

had stript him of all the booty which his own generosity had left

in his possession. He was therefore obliged to pursue his usual

method on such occasions: so, cocking his hat fiercely, he marched

out of the room without making any excuse, or any one daring to

make the least demand.

CHAPTER FIVE

CONTAINING MANY SURPRISING ADVENTURES, WHICH OUR HERO, WITH GREAT

GREATNESS, ACHIEVED.

We will now leave our hero to take a short repose, and return to

Mr. Snaps' where, at Wild's departure, the fair Theodosia had

again betaken herself to her stocking, and Miss Letty had retired

up stairs to Mr. Bagshot; but that gentleman had broken his

parole, and, having conveyed himself below stairs behind a door,

he took the opportunity of Wild's sally to make his escape. We

shall only observe that Miss Letty's surprize was the greater, as

she had, notwithstanding her promise to the contrary, taken the

precaution to turn the key; but, in her hurry, she did it

ineffectually. How wretched must have been the situation of this

young creature, who had not only lost a lover on whom her tender

heart perfectly doated, but was exposed to the rage of an injured

father, tenderly jealous of his honour, which was deeply engaged

to the sheriff of London and Middlesex for the safe custody of the

said Bagshot, and for which two very good responsible friends had

given not only their words but their bonds.

But let us remove our eyes from this melancholy object and survey

our hero, who, after a successless search for Miss Straddle, with

wonderful greatness of mind and steadiness of countenance went

early in the morning to visit his friend Heartfree, at a time when

the common herd of friends would have forsaken and avoided him. He

entered the room with a chearful air, which he presently changed

into surprize on seeing his friend in a night-gown, with his

wounded head bound about with linen, and looking extremely pale

from a great effusion of blood. When Wild was informed by

Heartfree what had happened he first expressed great sorrow, and

afterwards suffered as violent agonies of rage against the robbers

to burst from him. Heartfree, in compassion to the deep impression

his misfortunes seemed to make on his friend, endeavoured to

lessen it as much as possible, at the same time exaggerating the

obligation he owed to Wild, in which his wife likewise seconded

him, and they breakfasted with more comfort than was reasonably to

be expected after such an accident; Heartfree expressing great

satisfaction that he had put the count's note in another pocket-

book; adding, that such a loss would have been fatal to him; "for,

to confess the truth to you, my dear friend," said he, "I have had

some losses lately which have greatly perplexed my affairs; and

though I have many debts due to me from people of great fashion, I

assure you I know not where to be certain of getting a shilling."

Wild greatly felicitated him on the lucky accident of preserving

his note, and then proceeded, with much acrimony, to inveigh

against the barbarity of people of fashion, who kept tradesmen out

of their money.

While they amused themselves with discourses of this kind, Wild

meditating within himself whether he should borrow or steal from

his friend, or indeed whether he could not effect both, the

apprentice brought a bank-note of L500 in to Heartfree, which he

said a gentlewoman in the shop, who had been looking at some

jewels, desired him to exchange. Heartfree, looking at the number,

immediately recollected it to be one of those he had been robbed

of. With this discovery he acquainted Wild, who, with the notable

presence of mind and unchanged complexion so essential to a great

character, advised him to proceed cautiously; and offered (as Mr.

Heartfree himself was, he said, too much flustered to examine the

woman with sufficient art) to take her into a room in his house

alone. He would, he said, personate the master of the shop, would

pretend to shew her some jewels, and would undertake to get

sufficient information out of her to secure the rogues, and most

probably all their booty. This proposal was readily and thankfully

accepted by Heartfree. Wild went immediately up stairs into the

room appointed, whither the apprentice, according to appointment,

conducted the lady.

The apprentice was ordered down stairs the moment the lady entered

the room; and Wild, having shut the door, approached her with

great ferocity in his looks, and began to expatiate on the

complicated baseness of the crime she had been guilty of; but

though he uttered many good lessons of morality, as we doubt

whether from a particular reason they may work any very good

effect on our reader, we shall omit his speech, and only mention

his conclusion, which was by asking her what mercy she could now

expect from him? Miss Straddle, for that was the young lady, who

had had a good education, and had been more than once present at

the Old Bailey, very confidently denied the whole charge, and said

she had received the note from a friend. Wild then, raising his

voice, told her she should be immediately committed, and she might

depend on being convicted; "but," added he, changing his tone, "as

I have a violent affection for thee, my dear Straddle, if you will

follow my advice, I promise you, on my honour, to forgive you, nor

shall you be ever called in question on this account." "Why, what

would you have me to do, Mr. Wild?" replied the young lady, with a

pleasanter aspect. "You must know then," said Wild, "the money you

picked out of my pocket (nay, by G--d you did, and if you offer to

flinch you shall be convicted of it) I won at play of a fellow who

it seems robbed my friend of it; you must, therefore, give an

information on oath against one Thomas Fierce, and say that you

received the note from him, and leave the rest to me. I am

certain, Molly, you must be sensible of your obligations to me,

who return good for evil to you in this manner." The lady readily

consented, and advanced to embrace Mr. Wild, who stepped a little

back and cryed, "Hold, Molly; there are two other notes of L200

each to be accounted for--where are they?" The lady protested with

the most solemn asseverations that she knew of no more; with

which, when Wild was not satisfied, she cried, "I will stand

search." "That you shall," answered Wild, "and stand strip too."

He then proceeded to tumble and search her, but to no purpose,

till at last she burst into tears, and declared she would tell the

truth (as indeed she did); she then confessed that she had

disposed of the one to Jack Swagger, a great favourite of the

ladies, being an Irish gentleman, who had been bred clerk to an

attorney, afterwards whipt out of a regiment of dragoons, and was

then a Newgate solicitor, and a bawdy house bully; and, as for the

other, she had laid it all out that very morning in brocaded silks

and Flanders lace. With this account Wild, who indeed knew it to

be a very probable one, was forced to be contented: and now,

abandoning all further thoughts of what he saw was irretrievably

lost, he gave the lady some further instructions, and then,

desiring her to stay a few minutes behind him, he returned to his

friend, and acquainted him that he had discovered the whole

roguery; that the woman had confessed from whom she had received

the note, and promised to give an information before a justice of

peace; adding, he was concerned he could not attend him thither,

being obliged to go to the other end of the town to receive thirty

pounds, which he was to pay that evening. Heartfree said that

should not prevent him of his company, for he could easily lend

him such a trifle. This was accordingly done and accepted, and

Wild, Heartfree, and the lady went to the justice together.

The warrant being granted, and the constable being acquainted by

the lady, who received her information from Wild, of Mr. Fierce's

haunts, he was easily apprehended, and, being confronted by Miss

Straddle, who swore positively to him, though she had never seen

him before, he was committed to Newgate, where he immediately

conveyed an information to Wild of what had happened, and in the

evening received a visit from him.

Wild affected great concern for his friend's misfortune, and as

great surprize at the means by which it was brought about.

However, he told Fierce that he must certainly be mistaken in that

point of his having had no acquaintance with Miss Straddle: but

added, that he would find her out, and endeavour to take off her

evidence, which, he observed, did not come home enough to endanger

him; besides, be would secure him witnesses of an alibi, and five

or six to his character; so that he need be under no apprehension,

for his confinement till the sessions would be his only

punishment.

Fierce, who was greatly comforted by these assurances of his

friend, returned him many thanks, and, both shaking each other

very earnestly by the hand, with a very hearty embrace they

separated.

The hero considered with himself that the single evidence of Miss

Straddle would not be sufficient to convince Fierce, whom he

resolved to hang, as he was the person who had principally refused

to deliver him the stipulated share of the booty; he therefore

went in quest of Mr. James Sly, the gentleman who had assisted in

the exploit, and found and acquainted him with the apprehending of

Fierce. Wild then, intimating his fear least Fierce should impeach

Sly, advised him to be beforehand, to surrender himself to a

justice of peace and offer himself as an evidence. Sly approved

Mr. Wild's opinion, went directly to a magistrate, and was by him

committed to the Gatehouse, with a promise of being admitted

evidence against his companion.

Fierce was in a few days brought to his trial at the Old Bailey,

where, to his great confusion, his old friend Sly appeared against

him, as did Miss Straddle. His only hopes were now in the

assistances which our hero had promised him. These unhappily

failed him: so that, the evidence being plain against him, and he

making no defence, the jury convicted him, the court condemned

him, and Mr. Ketch executed him.

With such infinite address did this truly great man know how to

play with the passions of men, to set them at variance with each

other, and to work his own purposes out of those jealousies and

apprehensions which he was wonderfully ready at creating by means

of those great arts which the vulgar call treachery, dissembling,

promising, lying, falsehood, &c., but which are by great men

summed up in the collective name of policy, or politics, or rather

pollitrics; an art of which, as it is the highest excellence of

human nature, perhaps our great man was the most eminent master.

CHAPTER SIX

OF HATS.

Wild had now got together a very considerable gang, composed of

undone gamesters, ruined bailiffs, broken tradesmen, idle

apprentices, attorneys' clerks, and loose and disorderly youth,

who, being born to no fortune, nor bred to any trade or

profession, were willing to live luxuriously without labour. As

these persons wore different PRINCIPLES, i.e. HATS, frequent

dissensions grew among them. There were particularly two parties,

viz., those who wore hats FIERCELY cocked, and those who preferred

the NAB or trencher hat, with the brim flapping over their eyes.

The former were called CAVALIERS and TORY RORY RANTER BOYS, &c.;

the latter went by the several names of WAGS, roundheads,

shakebags, old-nolls, and several others. Between these, continual

jars arose, insomuch that they grew in time to think there was

something essential in their differences, and that their interests

were incompatible with each other, whereas, in truth, the

difference lay only in the fashion of their hats. Wild, therefore,

having assembled them all at an alehouse on the night after

Fierce's execution, and, perceiving evident marks of their

misunderstanding, from their behaviour to each other, addressed

them in the following gentle, but forcible manner: [Footnote:

There is something very mysterious in this speech, which probably

that chapter written by Aristotle on this subject, which is

mentioned by a French author, might have given some light into;

but that is unhappily among the lost works of that philosopher. It

is remarkable that galerus, which is Latin for a hat, signifies

likewise a dog-fish, as the Greek word kuneae doth the skin of

that animal; of which I suppose the hats or helmets of the

ancients were composed, as ours at present are of the beaver or

rabbit. Sophocles, in the latter end of his Ajax, alludes to a

method of cheating in hats, and the scholiast on the place tells

us of one Crephontes, who was a master of the art. It is

observable likewise that Achilles, in the first Iliad of Homer,

tells Agamemnon, in anger, that he had dog's eyes. Now, as the

eyes of a dog are handsomer than those of almost any other animal,

this could be no term of reproach. He must therefore mean that he

had a hat on, which, perhaps, from the creature it was made of, or

from some other reason, might have been a mark of infamy. This

superstitious opinion may account for that custom, which hath

descended through all nations, of shewing respect by pulling off

this covering, and that no man is esteemed fit to converse with

his superiors with it on. I shall conclude this learned note with

remarking that the term old hat is at present used by the vulgar

in no very honourable sense.]--"Gentlemen, I am ashamed to see men

embarked in so great and glorious an undertaking, as that of

robbing the public, so foolishly and weakly dissenting among

themselves. Do you think the first inventors of hats, or at least

of the distinctions between them, really conceived that one form

of hats should inspire a man with divinity, another with law,

another with learning, or another with bravery? No, they meant no

more by these outward signs than to impose on the vulgar, and,

instead of putting great men to the trouble of acquiring or

maintaining the substance, to make it sufficient that they

condescend to wear the type or shadow of it. You do wisely,

therefore, when in a crowd, to amuse the mob by quarrels on such

accounts, that while they are listening to your jargon you may

with the greater ease and safety pick their pockets: but surely to

be in earnest, and privately to keep up such a ridiculous

contention among yourselves, must argue the highest folly and

absurdity. When you know you are all PRIGS, what difference can a

broad or a narrow brim create? Is a prig less a prig in one hat

than in another? If the public should be weak enough to interest

themselves in your quarrels, and to prefer one pack to the other,

while both are aiming at their purses, it is your business to

laugh at, not imitate their folly. What can be more ridiculous

than for gentlemen to quarrel about hats, when there is not one

among you whose hat is worth a farthing? What is the use of a hat

farther than to keep the head warm, or to hide a bald crown from

the public? It is the mark of a gentleman to move his hat on every

occasion; and in courts and noble assemblies no man ever wears

one. Let me hear no more therefore of this childish disagreement,

but all toss up your hats together with one accord, and consider

that hat as the best, which will contain the largest booty." He

thus ended his speech, which was followed by a murmuring applause,

and immediately all present tossed their hats together as he had

commanded them.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SHEWING THE CONSEQUENCE WHICH ATTENDED HEARTFREE'S ADVENTURES WITH

WILD; ALL NATURAL AND COMMON ENOUGH TO LITTLE WRETCHES WHO DEAL

WITH GREAT MEN; TOGETHER WITH SOME PRECEDENTS OF LETTERS, BEING

THE DIFFERENT METHODS OF ANSWERING A DUN.

Let us now return to Heartfree, to whom the count's note, which he

had paid away, was returned, with an account that the drawer was

not to be found, and that, on enquiring after him, they had heard

he had run away, and consequently the money was now demanded of

the endorser. The apprehension of such a loss would have affected

any man of business, but much more one whose unavoidable ruin it

must prove. He expressed so much concern and confusion on this

occasion, that the proprietor of the note was frightened, and

resolved to lose no time in securing what he could. So that in the

afternoon of the same day Mr. Snap was commissioned to pay

Heartfree a visit, which he did with his usual formality, and

conveyed him to his own house.

Mrs. Heartfree was no sooner informed of what had happened to her

husband than she raved like one distracted; but after she had

vented the first agonies of her passion in tears and lamentations

she applied herself to all possible means to procure her husband's

liberty. She hastened to beg her neighbours to secure bail for

him. But, as the news had arrived at their houses before her, she

found none of them at home, except an honest Quaker, whose

servants durst not tell a lie. However, she succeeded no better

with him, for unluckily he had made an affirmation the day before

that he would never be bail for any man. After many fruitless

efforts of this kind she repaired to her husband, to comfort him

at least with her presence. She found him sealing the last of

several letters, which he was despatching to his friends and

creditors. The moment he saw her a sudden joy sparkled in his

eyes, which, however, had a very short duration; for despair soon

closed them again; nor could he help bursting into some passionate

expressions of concern for her and his little family, which she,

on her part, did her utmost to lessen, by endeavouring to mitigate

the loss, and to raise in him hopes from the count, who might, she

said, be possibly only gone into the country. She comforted him

likewise with the expectation of favour from his acquaintance,

especially from those whom he had in a particular manner obliged

and served. Lastly, she conjured him, by all the value and esteem

he professed for her, not to endanger his health, on which alone

depended her happiness, by too great an indulgence of grief;

assuring him that no state of life could appear unhappy to her

with him, unless his own sorrow or discontent made it so.

In this manner did this weak poor-spirited woman attempt to

relieve her husband's pains, which it would have rather become her

to aggravate, by not only painting out his misery in the liveliest

colours imaginable, but by upbraiding him with that folly and

confidence which had occasioned it, and by lamenting her own hard

fate in being obliged to share his sufferings.

Heartfree returned this goodness (as it is called) of his wife

with the warmest gratitude, and they passed an hour in a scene of

tenderness too low and contemptible to be recounted to our great

readers. We shall therefore omit all such relations, as they tend

only to make human nature low and ridiculous.

Those messengers who had obtained any answers to his letters now

returned. We shall here copy a few of them, as they may serve for

precedents to others who have an occasion, which happens commonly

enough in genteel life, to answer the impertinence of a dun.

LETTER I.---

MR. HEARTFREE,--My lord commands me to tell you he is very much

surprized at your assurance in asking for money which you know

hath been so little while due; however, as he intends to deal no

longer at your shop, he hath ordered me to pay you as soon as I

shall have cash in hand, which, considering many disbursements for

bills long due, &c., can't possibly promise any time, &c., at

present. And am your humble servant,

ROGER MORCRAFT.

LETTER II.

DEAR SIR,--The money, as you truly say, hath been three years due,

but upon my soul I am at present incapable of paying a farthing;

but as I doubt not, very shortly not only to content that small

bill, but likewise to lay out very considerable further sums at

your house, hope you will meet with no inconvenience by this short

delay in, dear sir, your most sincere humble servant,

CHA. COURTLY.

LETTER III.

MR. HEARTFREE,--I beg you would not acquaint my husband of the

trifling debt between us; for, as I know you to be a very good-

natured man, I will trust you with a secret; he gave me the money

long since to discharge it, which I had the ill luck to lose at

play. You may be assured I will satisfy you the first opportunity,

and am, sir, your very humble servant,

CATH. RUBBERS.

Please to present my compliments to Mrs. Heartfree.

LETTER IV.

MR. THOMAS HEARTFREE, SIR,--Yours received: but as to sum

mentioned therein, doth not suit at present. Your humble servant,

PETER POUNCE.

LETTER V.

SIR,--I am sincerely sorry it is not at present possible for me to

comply with your request, especially after so many obligations

received on my side, of which I shall always entertain the most

greateful memory. I am very greatly concerned at your misfortunes,

and would have waited upon you in person, but am not at present

very well, and besides, am obliged to go this evening to Vauxhall.

I am, sir, your most obliged humble servant,

CHA. EASY.

P.S.--I hope good Mrs. Heartfree and the dear little ones are

well.

There were more letters to much the same purpose; but we proposed

giving our readers a taste only. Of all these, the last was

infinitely the most grating to poor Heartfree, as it came from one

to whom, when in distress, he had himself lent a considerable sum,

and of whose present flourishing circumstances he was well

assured.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IN WHICH OUR HERO CARRIES GREATNESS TO AN IMMODERATE HEIGHT.

Let us remove, therefore, as fast as we can, this detestable

picture of ingratitude, and present the much more agreeable

portrait of that assurance to which the French very properly annex

the epithet of good. Heartfree had scarce done reading his letters

when our hero appeared before his eyes; not with that aspect with

which a pitiful parson meets his patron after having opposed him

at an election, or which a doctor wears when sneaking away from a

door when he is informed of his patient's death; not with that

downcast countenance which betrays the man who, after a strong

conflict between virtue and vice, hath surrendered his mind to the

latter, and is discovered in his first treachery; but with that

noble, bold, great confidence with which a prime minister assures

his dependent that the place he promised him was disposed of

before. And such concern and uneasiness as he expresses in his

looks on those occasions did Wild testify on the first meeting of

his friend. And as the said prime minister chides you for neglect

of your interest in not having asked in time, so did our hero

attack Heartfree for his giving credit to the count; and, without

suffering him to make any answer, proceeded in a torrent of words

to overwhelm him with abuse, which, however friendly its intention

might be, was scarce to be outdone by an enemy. By these means

Heartfree, who might perhaps otherwise have vented some little

concern for that recommendation which Wild had given him to the

count, was totally prevented from any such endeavour; and, like an

invading prince, when attacked in his own dominions, forced to

recal his whole strength to defend himself at home. This indeed he

did so well, by insisting on the figure and outward appearance of

the count and his equipage, that Wild at length grew a little more

gentle, and with a sigh said, "I confess I have the least reason

of all mankind to censure another for an imprudence of this

nature, as I am myself the most easy to be imposed upon, and

indeed have been so by this count, who, if he be insolvent, hath

cheated me of five hundred pounds. But, for my own part," said he,

"I will not yet despair, nor would I have you. Many men have found

it convenient to retire or abscond for a while, and afterwards

have paid their debts, or at least handsomely compounded them.

This I am certain of, should a composition take place, which is

the worst I think that can be apprehended, I shall be the only

loser; for I shall think myself obliged in honour to repair your

loss, even though you must confess it was principally owing to

your own folly. Z--ds! had I imagined it necessary, I would have

cautioned you, but I thought the part of the town where he lived

sufficient caution not to trust him. And such a sum!---The devil

must have been in you certainly!"

This was a degree of impudence beyond poor Mrs. Heartfree's

imagination. Though she had before vented the most violent

execrations on Wild, she was now thoroughly satisfied of his

innocence, and begged him not to insist any longer on what he

perceived so deeply affected her husband. She said trade could not

be carried on without credit, and surely he was sufficiently

justified in giving it to such a person as the count appeared to

be. Besides, she said, reflections on what was past and

irretrievable would be of little service; that their present

business was to consider how to prevent the evil consequences

which threatened, and first to endeavour to procure her husband

his liberty. "Why doth he not procure bail?" said Wild. "Alas!

sir," said she, "we have applied to many of our acquaintance in

vain; we have met with excuses even where we could least expect

them." "Not bail!" answered Wild, in a passion; "he shall have

bail, if there is any in the world. It is now very late, but trust

me to procure him bail to-morrow morning."

Mrs. Heartfree received these professions with tears, and told

Wild he was a friend indeed. She then proposed to stay that

evening with her husband, but he would not permit her on account

of his little family, whom he would not agree to trust to the care

of servants in this time of confusion.

A hackney-coach was then sent for, but without success; for these,

like hackney-friends, always offer themselves in the sunshine, but

are never to be found when you want them. And as for a chair, Mr.

Snap lived in a part of the town which chairmen very little

frequent. The good woman was therefore obliged to walk home,

whither the gallant Wild offered to attend her as a protector.

This favour was thankfully accepted, and, the husband and wife

having taken a tender leave of each other, the former was locked

in and the latter locked out by the hands of Mr. Snap himself.

As this visit of Mr. Wild's to Heartfree may seem one of those

passages in history which writers, Drawcansir-like, introduce only

BECAUSE THEY DARE; indeed, as it may seem somewhat contradictory

to the greatness of our hero, and may tend to blemish his

character with an imputation of that kind of friendship which

savours too much of weakness and imprudence, it may be necessary

to account for this visit, especially to our more sagacious

readers, whose satisfaction we shall always consult in the most

especial manner. They are to know then that at the first interview

with Mrs. Heartfree Mr. Wild had conceived that passion, or

affection, or friendship, or desire, for that handsome creature,

which the gentlemen of this our age agreed to call LOVE, and which

is indeed no other than that kind of affection which, after the

exercise of the dominical day is over, a lusty divine is apt to

conceive for the well-drest sirloin or handsome buttock which the

well-edified squire in gratitude sets before him, and which, so

violent is his love, he devours in imagination the moment he sees

it. Not less ardent was the hungry passion of our hero, who, from

the moment he had cast his eyes on that charming dish, had cast

about in his mind by what method he might come at it. This, as he

perceived, might most easily be effected after the ruin of

Heartfree, which, for other considerations, he had intended. So he

postponed all endeavours for this purpose till he had first

effected that, by order of time, was regularly to precede this

latter design; with such regularity did this our hero conduct all

his schemes, and so truly superior was he to all the efforts of

passion, which so often disconcert and disappoint the noblest

views of others.

CHAPTER NINE

MORE GREATNESS IN WILD. A LOW SCENE BETWEEN MRS. HEARTFREE AND HER

CHILDREN, AND A SCHEME OF OUR HERO WORTHY THE HIGHEST ADMIRATION,

AND EVEN ASTONISHMENT.

When first Wild conducted his flame (or rather his dish, to

continue our metaphor) from the proprietor, he had projected a

design of conveying her to one of those eating-houses in Covent-

garden, where female flesh is deliciously drest and served up to

the greedy appetites of young gentlemen; but, fearing lest she

should not come readily enough into his wishes, and that, by too

eager and hasty a pursuit, he should frustrate his future

expectations, and luckily at the same time a noble hint suggesting

itself to him, by which he might almost inevitably secure his

pleasure, together with his profit, he contented himself with

waiting on Mrs. Heartfree home, and, after many protestations of

friendship and service to her husband, took his leave, and

promised to visit her early in the morning, and to conduct her

back to Mr. Snap's.

Wild now retired to a night-cellar, where he found several of his

acquaintance, with whom he spent the remaining part of the night

in revelling; nor did the least compassion for Heartfree's

misfortunes disturb the pleasure of his cups. So truly great was

his soul that it was absolutely composed, save that an

apprehension of Miss Tishy's making some discovery (as she was

then in no good temper towards him) a little ruffled and

disquieted the perfect serenity he would otherwise have enjoyed.

As he had, therefore, no opportunity of seeing her that evening,

he wrote her a letter full of ten thousand protestations of

honourable love, and (which he more depended on) containing as

many promises, in order to bring the young lady into good humour,

without acquainting her in the least with his suspicion, or giving

her any caution; for it was his constant maxim never to put it

into any one's head to do you a mischief by acquainting him that

it is in his power.

We must now return to Mrs. Heartfree, who past a sleepless night

in as great agonies and horror for the absence of her husband as a

fine well-bred woman would feel at the return of hers from a long

voyage or journey. In the morning the children being brought to

her, the eldest asked where dear papa was? At which she could not

refrain from bursting into tears. The child, perceiving it, said,

"Don't cry, mamma; I am sure papa would not stay abroad if he

could help it." At these words she caught the child in her arms,

and, throwing herself into the chair in an agony of passion, cried

out,

"No, my child; nor shall all the malice of hell keep us long

asunder."

These are circumstances which we should not, for the amusement of

six or seven readers only, have inserted, had they not served to

shew that there are weaknesses in vulgar life to which great minds

are so entirely strangers that they have not even an idea of them;

and, secondly, by exposing the folly of this low creature, to set

off and elevate that greatness of which we endeavour to draw a

true portrait in this history.

Wild, entering the room, found the mother with one child in her

arms, and the other at her knee. After paying her his compliments,

he desired her to dismiss the children and servant, for that he

had something of the greatest moment to impart to her.

She immediately complied with his request, and, the door being

shut, asked him with great eagerness if he had succeeded in his

intentions of procuring the bail. He answered he had not

endeavoured at it yet, for a scheme had entered into his head by

which she might certainly preserve her husband, herself, and her

family. In order to which he advised her instantly to remove with

the most valuable jewels she had to Holland, before any statute of

bankruptcy issued to prevent her; that he would himself attend her

thither and place her in safety, and then return to deliver her

husband, who would be thus easily able to satisfy his creditors.

He added that he was that instant come from Snap's, where he had

communicated the scheme to Heartfree, who had greatly approved of

it, and desired her to put it in execution without delay,

concluding that a moment was not to be lost.

The mention of her husband's approbation left no doubt in this

poor woman's breast; she only desired a moment's time to pay him a

visit in order to take her leave. But Wild peremptorily refused;

he said by every moment's delay she risqued the ruin of her

family; that she would be absent only a few days from him, for

that the moment he had lodged her safe in Holland, he would

return, procure her husband his liberty, and bring him to her. I

have been the unfortunate, the innocent cause of all my dear Tom's

calamity, madam, said he, and I will perish with him or see him

out of it. Mrs. Heartfree overflowed with acknowledgments of his

goodness, but still begged for the shortest interview with her

husband. Wild declared that a minute's delay might be fatal; and

added, though with the voice of sorrow rather than of anger, that

if she had not resolution enough to execute the commands he

brought her from her husband, his ruin would lie at her door; and,

for his own part, he must give up any farther meddling in his

affairs.

She then proposed to take her children with her; but Wild would

not permit it, saying they would only retard their flight, and

that it would be properer for her husband to bring them. He at

length absolutely prevailed on this poor woman, who immediately

packed up the most valuable effects she could find, and, after

taking a tender leave of her infants, earnestly recommended them

to the care of a very faithful servant. Then they called a

hackney-coach, which conveyed them to an inn, where they were

furnished with a chariot and six, in which they set forward for

Harwich.

Wild rode with an exulting heart, secure, as he now thought

himself, of the possession of that lovely woman, together with a

rich cargo. In short, be enjoyed in his mind all the happiness

which unbridled lust and rapacious avarice, could promise him. As

to the poor creature who was to satisfy these passions, her whole

soul was employed in reflecting on the condition of her husband

and children. A single word scarce escaped her lips, though many a

tear gushed from her brilliant eyes, which, if I may use a coarse

expression, served only as delicious sauce to heighten the

appetite of Wild.

CHAPTER TEN

SEA-ADVENTURES VERY NEW AND SURPRISING.

When they arrived at Harwich they found a vessel, which had put in

there, just ready to depart for Rotterdam. So they went

immediately on board, and sailed with a fair wind; but they had

hardly proceeded out of sight of land when a sudden and violent

storm arose and drove them to the southwest; insomuch that the

captain apprehended it impossible to avoid the Goodwin Sands, and

he and all his crew gave themselves up for lost. Mrs. Heartfree,

who had no other apprehensions from death but those of leaving her

dear husband and children, fell on her knees to beseech the

Almighty's favour, when Wild, with a contempt of danger truly

great, took a resolution as worthy to be admired perhaps as any

recorded of the bravest hero, ancient or modern; a resolution

which plainly proved him to have these two qualifications so

necessary to a hero, to be superior to all the energies of fear or

pity. He saw the tyrant death ready to rescue from him his

intended prey, which he had yet devoured only in imagination. He

therefore swore he would prevent him, and immediately attacked the

poor wretch, who was in the utmost agonies of despair, first with

solicitation, and afterwards with force.

Mrs. Heartfree, the moment she understood his meaning, which, in

her present temper of mind, and in the opinion she held of him,

she did not immediately, rejected him with all the repulses which

indignation and horror could animate: but when he attempted

violence she filled the cabin with her shrieks, which were so

vehement that they reached the ears of the captain, the storm at

this time luckily abating. This man, who was a brute rather from

his education and the element he inhabited than from nature, ran

hastily down to her assistance, and, finding her struggling on the

ground with our hero, he presently rescued her from her intended

ravisher, who was soon obliged to quit the woman, in order to

engage with her lusty champion, who spared neither pains nor blows

in the assistance of his fair passenger.

When the short battle was over, in which our hero, had he not been

overpowered with numbers, who came down on their captain's side,

would have been victorious, the captain rapped out a hearty oath,

and asked Wild, if he had no more Christianity in him than to

ravish a woman in a storm? To which the other greatly and sullenly

answered, "It was very well; but d--n him if he had not

satisfaction the moment they came on shore." The captain with

great scorn replied, "Kiss,---" &c., and then, forcing Wild out

of the cabbin, he, at Mrs. Heartfree's request, locked her into

it, and returned to the care of his ship.

The storm was now entirely ceased, and nothing remained but the

usual ruffling of the sea after it, when one of the sailors spied

a sail at a distance, which the captain wisely apprehended might

be a privateer (for we were then engaged in a war with France),

and immediately ordered all the sail possible to be crowded; but

his caution was in vain, for the little wind which then blew was

directly adverse, so that the ship bore down upon them, and soon

appeared to be what the captain had feared, a French privateer. He

was in no condition of resistance, and immediately struck on her

firing the first gun. The captain of the Frenchman, with several

of his hands, came on board the English vessel, which they rifled

of everything valuable, and, amongst the rest, of poor Mrs.

Heartfree's whole cargo; and then taking the crew, together with

the two passengers, aboard his own ship, he determined, as the

other would be only a burthen to him, to sink her, she being very

old and leaky, and not worth going back with to Dunkirk. He

preserved, therefore, nothing but the boat, as his own was none of

the best, and then, pouring a broadside into her, he sent her to

the bottom.

The French captain, who was a very young fellow, and a man of

gallantry, was presently enamoured to no small degree with his

beautiful captive; and imagining Wild, from some words he dropt,

to be her husband, notwithstanding the ill affection towards him

which appeared in her looks, he asked her if she understood

French. She answered in the affirmative, for indeed she did

perfectly well. He then asked her how long she and that gentleman

(pointing to Wild) had been married. She answered, with a deep

sigh and many tears, that she was married indeed, but not to that

villain, who was the sole cause of all her misfortunes. That

appellation raised a curiosity in the captain, and he importuned

her in so pressing but gentle a manner to acquaint him with the

injuries she complained of, that she was at last prevailed on to

recount to him the whole history of her afflictions. This so moved

the captain, who had too little notions of greatness, and so

incensed him against our hero, that he resolved to punish him;

and, without regard to the laws of war, he immediately ordered out

his shattered boat, and, making Wild a present of half-a-dozen

biscuits to prolong his misery, he put him therein, and then,

committing him to the mercy of the sea, proceeded on his cruize.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE GREAT AND WONDERFUL BEHAVIOUR OF OUR HERO IN THE BOAT.

It is probable that a desire of ingratiating himself with his

charming captive, or rather conqueror, had no little share in

promoting this extraordinary act of illegal justice; for the

Frenchman had conceived the same sort of passion or hunger which

Wild himself had felt, and was almost as much resolved, by some

means or other, to satisfy it. We will leave him however at

present in the pursuit of his wishes, and attend our hero in his

boat, since it is in circumstances of distress that true greatness

appears most wonderful. For that a prince in the midst of his

courtiers, all ready to compliment him with his favourite

character or title, and indeed with everything else, or that a

conqueror, at the head of a hundred thousand men, all prepared to

execute his will, how ambitious, wanton, or cruel soever, should,

in the giddiness of their pride, elevate themselves many degrees

above those their tools, seems not difficult to be imagined, or

indeed accounted for. But that a man in chains, in prison, nay, in

the vilest dungeon, should, with persevering pride and obstinate

dignity, discover that vast superiority in his own nature over the

rest of mankind, who to a vulgar eye seem much happier than

himself; nay, that he should discover heaven and providence (whose

peculiar care, it seems, he is) at that very time at work for him;

this is among the arcana of greatness, to be perfectly understood

only by an adept in that science.

What could be imagined more miserable than the situation of our

hero at this season, floating in a little boat on the open seas,

without oar, without sail, and at the mercy of the first wave to

overwhelm him? nay, this was indeed the fair side of his fortune,

as it was a much more eligible fate than that alternative which

threatened him with almost unavoidable certainty, viz., starving

with hunger, the sure consequence of a continuance of the calm.

Our hero, finding himself in this condition, began to ejaculate a

round of blasphemies, which the reader, without being over-pious,

might be offended at seeing repeated. He then accused the whole

female sex, and the passion of love (as he called it),

particularly that which he bore to Mrs. Heartfree, as the unhappy

occasion of his present sufferings. At length, finding himself

descending too much into the language of meanness and complaint,

he stopped short, and after broke forth as follows: "D--n it, a

man can die but once! what signifies it? Every man must die, and

when it is over it is over. I never was afraid of anything yet,

nor I won't begin now; no, d--n me, won't I. What signifies fear?

I shall die whether I am afraid or no: who's afraid then, d---n

me?" At which words he looked extremely fierce, but, recollecting

that no one was present to see him, he relaxed a little the terror

of his countenance, and, pausing a while, repeated the word, d--n!

"Suppose I should be d--ned at last," cries he, "when I never

thought a syllable of the matter? I have often laughed and made a

jest about it, and yet it may be so, for anything which I know to

the contrary. If there should be another world it will go hard

with me, that is certain. I shall never escape for what I have

done to Heartfree. The devil must have me for that undoubtedly.

The devil! Pshaw! I am not such a fool to be frightened at him

neither. No, no; when a man's dead there's an end of him. I wish I

was certainly satisfied of it though: for there are some men of

learning, as I have heard, of a different opinion. It is but a bad

chance, methinks, I stand. If there be no other world, why I shall

be in no worse condition than a block or a stone: but if there

should----d--n me I will think no longer about it.--Let a pack of

cowardly rascals be afraid of death, I dare look him in the face.

But shall I stay and be starved?--No, I will eat up the biscuits

the French son of a whore bestowed on me, and then leap into the

sea for drink, since the unconscionable dog hath not allowed me a

single dram." Having thus said, he proceeded immediately to put

his purpose in execution, and, as his resolution never failed him,

he had no sooner despatched the small quantity of provision which

his enemy had with no vast liberality presented him, than he cast

himself headlong into the sea.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE STRANGE AND YET NATURAL ESCAPE OF OUR HERO.

Our hero, having with wonderful resolution thrown himself into the

sea, as we mentioned at the end of the last chapter, was

miraculously within two minutes after replaced in his boat; and

this without the assistance of a dolphin or a seahorse, or any

other fish or animal, who are always as ready at hand when a poet

or historian pleases to call for them to carry a hero through the

sea, as any chairman at a coffee-house door near St. James's to

convey a beau over a street, and preserve his white stockings. The

truth is, we do not chuse to have any recourse to miracles, from

the strict observance we pay to that rule of Horace,

Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus.

The meaning of which is, do not bring in a supernatural agent when

you can do without him; and indeed we are much deeper read in

natural than supernatural causes. We will therefore endeavour to

account for this extraordinary event from the former of these; and

in doing this it will be necessary to disclose some profound

secrets to our reader, extremely well worth his knowing, and which

may serve him to account for many occurrences of the phenomenous

kind which have formerly appeared in this our hemisphere.

Be it known then that the great Alma Mater, Nature, is of all

other females the most obstinate, and tenacious of her purpose. So

true is that observation,

Naturam expellas furca licet, usque recurret.

Which I need not render in English, it being to be found in a book

which most fine gentlemen are forced to read. Whatever Nature,

therefore, purposes to herself, she never suffers any reason,

design, or accident to frustrate. Now, though it may seem to a

shallow observer that some persons were designed by Nature for no

use or purpose whatever, yet certain it is that no man is born

into the world without his particular allotment; viz., some to be

kings, some statesmen, some ambassadors, some bishops, some

generals, and so on. Of these there be two kinds; those to whom

Nature is so generous to give some endowment qualifying them for

the parts she intends them afterwards to act on this stage, and

those whom she uses as instances of her unlimited power, and for

whose preferment to such and such stations Solomon himself could

have invented no other reason than that Nature designed them so.

These latter some great philosophers have, to shew them to be the

favourites of Nature, distinguished by the honourable appellation

of NATURALS. Indeed, the true reason of the general ignorance of

mankind on this head seems to be this; that, as Nature chuses to

execute these her purposes by certain second causes, and as many

of these second causes seem so totally foreign to her design, the

wit of man, which, like his eye, sees best directly forward, and

very little and imperfectly what is oblique, is not able to

discern the end by the means. Thus, how a handsome wife or

daughter should contribute to execute her original designation of

a general, or how flattery or half a dozen houses in a borough-

town should denote a judge, or a bishop, he is not capable of

comprehending. And, indeed, we ourselves, wise as we are, are

forced to reason ab effectu; and if we had been asked what Nature

had intended such men for, before she herself had by the event

demonstrated her purpose, it is possible we might sometimes have

been puzzled to declare; for it must be confessed that at first

sight, and to a mind uninspired, a man of vast natural capacity

and much acquired knowledge may seem by Nature designed for power

and honour, rather than one remarkable only for the want of these,

and indeed all other qualifications; whereas daily experience

convinces us of the contrary, and drives us as it were into the

opinion I have here disclosed.

Now, Nature having originally intended our great man for that

final exaltation which, as it is the most proper and becoming end

of all great men, it were heartily to be wished they might all

arrive at, would by no means be diverted from her purpose. She

therefore no sooner spied him in the water than she softly

whispered in his ear to attempt the recovery of his boat, which

call he immediately obeyed, and, being a good swimmer, and it

being a perfect calm, with great facility accomplished it.

Thus we think this passage in our history, at first so greatly

surprising, is very naturally accounted for, and our relation

rescued from the Prodigious, which, though it often occurs in

biography, is not to be encouraged nor much commended on any

occasion, unless when absolutely necessary to prevent the

history's being at an end. Secondly, we hope our hero is justified

from that imputation of want of resolution which must have been

fatal to the greatness of his character.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE CONCLUSION OF THE BOAT ADVENTURE, AND THE END OF THE SECOND

BOOK.

Our hero passed the remainder of the evening, the night, and the

next day, in a condition not much to be envied by any passion of

the human mind, unless by ambition; which, provided it can only

entertain itself with the most distant music of fame's trumpet,

can disdain all the pleasures of the sensualist, and those more

solemn, though quieter comforts, which a good conscience suggests

to a Christian philosopher.

He spent his time in contemplation, that is to say, in

blaspheming, cursing, and sometimes singing and whistling. At

last, when cold and hunger had almost subdued his native

fierceness, it being a good deal past midnight and extremely dark,

he thought he beheld a light at a distance, which the cloudiness

of the sky prevented his mistaking for a star: this light,

however, did not seem to approach him, at least it approached by

such imperceptible degrees that it gave him very little comfort,

and at length totally forsook him. He then renewed his

contemplation as before, in which he continued till the day began

to break, when, to his inexpressible delight, he beheld a sail at

a very little distance, and which luckily seemed to be making

towards him. He was likewise soon espied by those in the vessel,

who wanted no signals to inform them of his distress, and, as it

was almost a calm, and their course lay within five hundred yards

of him, they hoisted out their boat and fetched him aboard.

The captain of this ship was a Frenchman; she was laden with deal

from Norway, and had been extremely shattered in the late storm.

This captain was of that kind of men who are actuated by general

humanity, and whose compassion can be raised by the distress of a

fellow-creature, though of a nation whose king hath quarrelled

with the monarch of their own. He therefore, commiserating the

circumstances of Wild, who had dressed up a story proper to impose

upon such a silly fellow, told him that, as himself well knew, he

must be a prisoner on his arrival in France, but that he would

endeavour to procure his redemption; for which our hero greatly

thanked him. But, as they were making very slow sail (for they had

lost their main-mast in the storm), Wild saw a little vessel at a

distance, they being within a few leagues of the English shore,

which, on enquiry, he was informed was probably an English

fishing-boat. And, it being then perfectly calm, he proposed that,

if they would accommodate him with a pair of scullers, he could

get within reach of the boat, at least near enough to make signals

to her; and he preferred any risque to the certain fate of being a

prisoner. As his courage was somewhat restored by the provisions

(especially brandy) with which the Frenchmen had supplied him, he

was so earnest in his entreaties, that the captain, after many

persuasions, at length complied, and he was furnished with

scullers, and with some bread, pork, and a bottle of brandy. Then,

taking leave of his preservers, he again betook himself to his

boat, and rowed so heartily that he soon came within the sight of

the fisherman, who immediately made towards him and took him

aboard.

No sooner was Wild got safe on board the fisherman than he begged

him to make the utmost speed into Deal, for that the vessel which

was still in sight was a distressed Frenchman, bound for Havre de

Grace, and might easily be made a prize if there was any ship

ready to go in pursuit of her. So nobly and greatly did our hero

neglect all obligations conferred on him by the enemies of his

country, that he would have contributed all he could to the taking

his benefactor, to whom he owed both his life and his liberty.

The fisherman took his advice, and soon arrived at Deal, where the

reader will, I doubt not, be as much concerned as Wild was, that

there was not a single ship prepared to go on the expedition.

Our hero now saw himself once more safe on terra firma, but

unluckily at some distance from that city where men of ingenuity

can most easily supply their wants without the assistance of

money, or rather can most easily procure money for the supply of

their wants. However, as his talents were superior to every

difficulty, he framed so dextrous an account of his being a

merchant, having been taken and plundered by the enemy, and of his

great effects in London, that he was not only heartily regaled by

the fisherman at his house, but made so handsome a booty by way of

borrowing, a method of taking which we have before mentioned to

have his approbation, that he was enabled to provide himself with

a place in the stage-coach; which (as God permitted it to perform

the journey) brought him at the appointed time to an inn in the

metropolis.

And now, reader, as thou canst be in no suspense far the fate of

our great man, since we have returned him safe to the principal

scene of his glory, we will a little look back on the fortunes of

Mr. Heartfree, whom we left in no very pleasant situation; but of

this we shall treat in the next book.