CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXII.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CHAPTER XXXV.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
CHAPTER XL.
CHAPTER XLI.
CHAPTER XLII.
CHAPTER XLIII.
CHAPTER XLIV.
CHAPTER XLV.
CHAPTER XLVI.
CHAPTER XLVII.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
CHAPTER XLIX.
CHAPTER L.
CHAPTER LI.
CHAPTER LII.
CHAPTER LIII.
CHAPTER LIV.
CHAPTER LV.
CHAPTER LVI.
CHAPTER LVII.
CHAPTER LVIII.
CHAPTER LIX.
CHAPTER LX.
CHAPTER LXI.
CHAPTER LXII.
CHAPTER LXIII.
CHAPTER LXIV.
CHAPTER LXV.
CHAPTER LXVI.
CHAPTER LXVII.
CHAPTER LXVIII.
CHAPTER LXIX.
THE AUTHOR’S PREFACE
Of all kinds of satire, there is none so entertaining and universally
improving, as that which is introduced, as it were occasionally, in the
course of an interesting story, which brings every incident home to
life, and by representing familiar scenes in an uncommon and amusing
point of view, invests them with all the graces of novelty, while
nature is appealed to in every particular. The reader gratifies his
curiosity in pursuing the adventures of a person in whose favour he is
prepossessed; he espouses his cause, he sympathises with him in his
distress, his indignation is heated against the authors of his
calamity: the humane passions are inflamed; the contrast between
dejected virtue and insulting vice appears with greater aggravation,
and every impression having a double force on the imagination, the
memory retains the circumstance, and the heart improves by the example.
The attention is not tired with a bare catalogue of characters, but
agreeably diverted with all the variety of invention; and the
vicissitudes of life appear in their peculiar circumstances, opening an
ample field for wit and humour.
Romance, no doubt, owes its origin to ignorance, vanity, and
superstition. In the dark ages of the World, when a man had rendered
himself famous for wisdom or valour, his family and adherents availed
themselves of his superior qualities, magnified his virtues, and
represented his character and person as sacred and supernatural. The
vulgar easily swallowed the bait, implored his protection, and yielded
the tribute of homage and praise, even to adoration; his exploits were
handed down to posterity with a thousand exaggerations; they were
repeated as incitements to virtue; divine honours were paid, and altars
erected to his memory, for the encouragement of those who attempted to
imitate his example; and hence arose the heathen mythology, which is no
other than a collection of extravagant romances. As learning advanced,
and genius received cultivation, these stories were embellished with
the graces of poetry, that they might the better recommend themselves
to the attention; they were sung in public, at festivals, for the
instruction and delight of the audience; and rehearsed before battle,
as incentives to deeds of glory. Thus tragedy and the epic muse were
born, and, in the progress of taste, arrived at perfection. It is no
wonder that the ancients could not relish a fable in prose, after they
had seen so many remarkable events celebrated in verse by their best
poets; we therefore find no romance among them during the era of their
excellence, unless the _Cyropædia_ of Xenophon may be so called; and it
was not till arts and sciences began to revive after the irruption of
the barbarians into Europe, that anything of this kind appeared. But
when the minds of men were debauched by the imposition of priestcraft
to the most absurd pitch of credulity, the authors of romance arose,
and losing sight of probability, filled their performances with the
most monstrous hyperboles. If they could not equal the ancient poets in
point of genius they were resolved to excel them in fiction, and apply
to the wonder, rather than the judgment, of their readers. Accordingly,
they brought necromancy to their aid, and instead of supporting the
character of their heroes by dignity of sentiment and practice,
distinguished them by their bodily strength, activity, and extravagance
of behaviour. Although nothing could be more ludicrous and unnatural
than the figures they drew, they did not want patrons and admirers; and
the world actually began to be infected with the spirit of
knight-errantry, when Cervantes, by an inimitable piece of ridicule,
reformed the taste of mankind, representing chivalry in the right point
of view, and converting romance to purposes far more useful and
entertaining, by making it assume the sock, and point out the follies
of ordinary life.
The same method has been practised by other Spanish and French authors,
and by none more successfully than by Monsieur Le Sage, who, in his
_Adventures of Gil Blas_, has described the knavery and foibles of
life, with infinite humour and sagacity. The following sheets I have
modelled on his plan, taking me liberty, however, to differ from him in
the execution, where I thought his particular situations were uncommon,
extravagant, or peculiar to the country in which the scene is laid. The
disgraces of Gil Blas are, for the most part, such as rather excite
mirth than compassion; he himself laughs at them; and his transitions
from distress to happiness, or at least ease, are so sudden, that
neither the reader has time to pity him, nor himself to be acquainted
with affliction. This conduct, in my opinion, not only deviates from
probability, but prevents that generous indignation, which ought to
animate the reader against the sordid and vicious disposition of the
world. I have attempted to represent modest merit struggling with every
difficulty to which a friendless orphan is exposed, from his own want
of experience, as well as from the selfishness, envy, malice, and base
indifference of mankind. To secure a favourable prepossession, I have
allowed him the advantages of birth and education, which in the series
of his misfortunes will, I hope, engage the ingenuous more warmly in
his behalf; and though I foresee, that some people will be offended at
the mean scenes in which he is involved, I persuade myself that the
judicious will not only perceive the necessity of describing those
situations to which he must of course be confined, in his low estate,
but also find entertainment in viewing those parts of life, where the
humours and passions are undisguised by affectation, ceremony, or
education; and the whimsical peculiarities of disposition appear as
nature has implanted them. But I believe I need not trouble myself in
vindicating a practice authorized by the best writers in this way, some
of whom I have already named.
Every intelligent reader will, at first sight, perceive I have not
deviated from nature in the facts, which are all true in the main,
although the circumstances are altered and disguised, to avoid personal
satire.
It now remains to give my reasons for making the chief personage of
this work a North Briton, which are chiefly these: I could, at a small
expense, bestow on him such education as I thought the dignity of his
birth and character required, which could not possibly be obtained in
England, by such slender means as the nature of my plan would afford.
In the next place, I could represent simplicity of manners in a remote
part of the kingdom, with more propriety than in any place near the
capital; and lastly, the disposition of the Scots, addicted to
travelling, justifies my conduct in deriving an adventurer from that
country. That the delicate reader may not be offended at the unmeaning
oaths which proceed from the mouths of some persons in these memoirs, I
beg leave to promise, that I imagined nothing could more effectually
expose the absurdity of such miserable expletives, than a natural and
verbal representation of the discourse in which they occur.
APOLOGUE
A young painter, indulging a vein of pleasantry, sketched a kind of
conversation piece, representing a bear, an owl, a monkey, and an ass;
and to render it more striking, humorous, and moral, distinguished
every figure by some emblem of human life. Bruin was exhibited in the
garb and attitude of an old, toothless, drunken soldier; the owl
perched upon the handle of a coffee-pot, with spectacle on nose, seemed
to contemplate a newspaper; and the ass, ornamented with a huge tie-wig
(which, however, could not conceal his long ears), sat for his picture
to the monkey, who appeared with the implements of painting. This
whimsical group afforded some mirth, and met with general approbation,
until some mischievous wag hinted that the whole—was a lampoon upon the
friends of the performer; an insinuation which was no sooner circulated
than those very people who applauded it before began to be alarmed, and
even to fancy themselves signified by the several figures of the piece.
Among others, a worthy personage in years, who had served in the army
with reputation, being incensed at the supposed outrage, repaired to
the lodging of the painter, and finding him at home, “Hark ye, Mr.
Monkey,” said he, “I have a good mind to convince you, that though the
bear has lost his teeth, he retains his paws, and that he is not so
drunk but he can perceive your impertinence.” “Sblood! sir, that
toothless jaw is a d—ned scandalous libel—but don’t you imagine me so
chopfallen as not to be able to chew the cud of resentment.” Here he
was interrupted by the arrival of a learned physician, who, advancing
to the culprit with fury in his aspect, exclaimed, “Suppose the
augmentation of the ass’s ears should prove the diminution of the
baboon’s—nay, seek not to prevaricate, for, by the beard of
Aesculapius! there is not one hair in this periwig that will not stand
up in judgment to convict thee of personal abuse. Do but observe,
captain, how this pitiful little fellow has copied the very curls—the
colour, indeed, is different, but then the form and foretop are quite
similar.” While he thus remonstrated in a strain of vociferation, a
venerable senator entered, and waddling up to the delinquent,
“Jackanapes!” cried he, “I will now let thee see I can read something
else than a newspaper, and that without the help of spectacles: here is
your own note of hand, sirrah, for money, which if I had not advanced,
you yourself would have resembled an owl, in not daring to show your
face by day, you ungrateful slanderous knave!”
In vain the astonished painter declared that he had no intention to
give offence, or to characterise particular persons: they affirmed the
resemblance was too palpable to be overlooked; they taxed him with
insolence, malice, and ingratitude; and their clamours being overheard
by the public, the captain was a bear, the doctor an ass, and the
senator an owl, to his dying day.
Christian reader, I beseech thee, in the bowels of the Lord, remember
this example “while thou art employed in the perusal of the following
sheets; and seek not to appropriate to thyself that which equally
belongs to five hundred different people. If thou shouldst meet with a
character that reflects thee in some ungracious particular, keep thy
own counsel; consider that one feature makes not a face, and that
though thou art, perhaps, distinguished by a bottle nose, twenty of thy
neighbours may be in the same predicament.”
THE ADVENTURES OF RODERICK RANDOM
CHAPTER I
Of my Birth and Parentage
I was born in the northern part of this united kingdom, in the house of
my grandfather, a gentleman of considerable fortune and influence, who
had on many occasions signalised himself in behalf of his country; and
was remarkable for his abilities in the law, which he exercised with
great success in the station of a judge, particularly against beggars,
for whom he had a singular aversion.
My father (his youngest son) falling in love with a poor relation, who
lived with the old gentleman in quality of a housekeeper, espoused her
privately; and I was the first fruit of that marriage. During her
pregnancy, a dream discomposed my mother so much that her husband,
tired with her importunity, at last consulted a highland seer, whose
favourable interpretation he would have secured beforehand by a bribe,
but found him incorruptible. She dreamed she was delivered of a
tennis-ball, which the devil (who, to her great surprise, acted the
part of a midwife) struck so forcibly with a racket that it disappeared
in an instant; and she was for some time inconsolable for the lost of
her offspring; when, all on a sudden, she beheld it return with equal
violence, and enter the earth, beneath her feet, whence immediately
sprang up a goodly tree covered with blossoms, the scent of which
operated so strongly on her nerves that she awoke. The attentive sage,
after some deliberation, assured my parents, that their firstborn would
be a great traveller; that he would undergo many dangers and
difficulties, and at last return to his native land, where he would
flourish in happiness and reputation. How truly this was foretold will
appear in the sequel. It was not long before some officious person
informed my grandfather of certain familiarities that passed between
his son and housekeeper which alarmed him so much that, a few days
after, he told my father it was high time for him to think of settling;
and that he had provided a match for him, to which he could in justice
have no objections. My father, finding it would be impossible to
conceal his situation much longer, frankly owned what he had done; and
excused himself for not having asked the consent of his father, by
saying, he knew it would have been to no purpose; and that, had his
inclination been known, my grandfather might have taken such measures
as would have effectually put the gratification of it out of his power:
he added, that no exceptions could be taken to his wife’s virtue,
birth, beauty, and good sense, and as for fortune, it was beneath his
care. The old gentleman, who kept all his passions, except one, in
excellent order, heard him to an end with great temper, and then calmly
asked, how he proposed to maintain himself and spouse? He replied, he
could be in no danger of wanting while his father’s tenderness
remained, which he and his wife should always cultivate with the utmost
veneration; and he was persuaded his allowance would be suitable to the
dignity and circumstances of his family, and to the provision already
made for his brothers and sisters, who were happily settled under his
protection. “Your brothers and sisters,” said my grandfather, “did not
think it beneath them to consult me in an affair of such importance as
matrimony; neither, I suppose, would you have omitted that piece of
duty, had you not some secret fund in reserve; to the comforts of which
I leave you, with a desire that you will this night seek out another
habitation for yourself and wife, whither, in a short time, I will send
you an account of the expense I have been at in your education, with a
view of being reimbursed. Sir, you have made the grand tour—you are a
polite gentleman—a very pretty gentleman—I wish you a great deal of
joy, and am your very humble servant.”
So saying, he left my father in a situation easily imagined. However,
he did not long hesitate; for, being perfectly well acquainted with his
father’s disposition, he did not doubt that he was glad of this
pretence to get rid of him; and his resolves being as invariable as the
laws of the Medes and Persians, he knew it would be to no purpose to
attempt him by prayers and entreaties; so without any farther
application, he betook himself, with his disconsolate bedfellow to a
farm-house, where an old servant of his mother dwelt: there they
remained some time in a situation but ill adapted to the elegance of
their desires and tenderness of their love; which nevertheless my
father chose to endure, rather than supplicate an unnatural and
inflexible parent but my mother, foreseeing the inconveniences to which
she must have been exposed, had she been delivered in this place (and
her pregnancy was very far advanced), without communicating her design
to her husband, went in disguise to the house of my grandfather, hoping
that her tears and condition would move him to compassion, and
reconcile him to an event which was now irrecoverably past.
She found means to deceive the servants, and get introduced as an
unfortunate lady, who wanted to complain of some matrimonial
grievances, it being my grandfather’s particular province to decide in
all cases of scandal. She was accordingly admitted into his presence,
where, discovering herself, she fell at his feet, and in the most
affecting manner implored his forgiveness; at the same time
representing the danger that threatened not only her life, but that of
his own grandchild, which was about to see the light. He told her he
was sorry that the indiscretion of her and his son had compelled him to
make a vow, which put it out of his power to give them any assistance;
that he had already imparted his thoughts on that subject to her
husband, and was surprised that they should disturb his peace with any
farther importunity. This said, he retired.
The violence of my mother’s affliction had such an effect on her
constitution that she was immediately seized with the pains of
childbed; and had not an old maidservant, to whom she was very dear,
afforded her pity and assistance, at the hazard of incurring my
grandfather’s displeasure, she and the innocent fruit of her womb must
have fallen miserable victims to his rigour and inhumanity. By the
friendship of this poor woman she was carried up to a garret, and
immediately delivered of a man child, the story of whose unfortunate
birth he himself now relates. My father, being informed of what had
happened, flew to the embraces of his darling spouse, and while he
loaded his offspring with paternal embraces, could not forbear shedding
a flood of tears on beholding the dear partner of his heart (for whose
ease he would have sacrificed the treasures of the east) stretched upon
a flock bed, in a miserable apartment, unable to protect her from the
inclemencies of the weather. It is not to be supposed that the old
gentleman was ignorant of what passed, though he affected to know
nothing of the matter, and pretended to be very much surprised, when
one of his grandchildren, by his eldest son deceased, who lived with
him as his heir apparent, acquainted him with the affair; he determined
therefore to observe no medium, but immediately (on the third day after
her delivery) sent her a peremptory order to be gone, and turned off
the servant who had preserved her life. This behaviour so exasperated
my father that he had recourse to the most dreadful imprecations; and
on his bare knees implored that Heaven would renounce him if ever he
should forget or forgive the barbarity of his sire.
The injuries which this unhappy mother received from her removal in
such circumstances, and the want of necessaries where she lodged,
together with her grief and anxiety of mind, soon threw her into a
languishing disorder, which put an end to her life. My father, who
loved her tenderly, was so affected with her death that he remained six
weeks deprived of his senses; during which time, the people where he
lodged carried the infant to the old man who relented so far, on
hearing the melancholy story of his daughter-in-law’s death, and the
deplorable condition of his son, as to send the child to nurse, and he
ordered my father to be carried home to his house, where he soon
recovered the use of his reason.
Whether this hardhearted judge felt any remorse for his cruel treatment
of his son and daughter, or (which is more probable) was afraid his
character would suffer in the neighbourhood, he professed great sorrow
for his conduct to my father, whose delirium was succeeded by a
profound melancholy and reserve. At length he disappeared, and,
notwithstanding all imaginable inquiry, could not be heard of; a
circumstance which confirmed most people in the opinion of his having
made away with himself in a fit of despair. How I understood the
particulars of my birth will appear in the course of these memoirs.