A man’s first care should be to avoid the reproaches of his own heart;
his next, to escape the censures of the world; if the last interferes
with the former, it ought to be entirely neglected; but otherwise there
cannot be a greater satisfaction to an honest mind than to see those
approbations which it gives itself seconded by the applauses of the
public: a man is more sure of his conduct, when the verdict which he
passes upon his own behavior is thus warranted and confirmed by the
opinion of all that know him.
My worthy friend Sir Roger is one of those who is not only at peace
within himself, but beloved and esteemed by all about him. He receives
a suitable tribute for his universal benevolence to mankind, in the
returns of affection and good will, which are paid him by every one
that lives within his neighborhood. I lately met with two or three
odd instances of that respect which is shown to the good old knight.
He would needs carry Will Wimble and myself with him to the country
assizes: as we were upon the road Will Wimble joined a couple of plain
men who rode before us, and conversed with them for some time; during
which my friend Sir Roger acquainted me with their characters.
“The first of them,” says he, “that has a spaniel by his side, is a
yeoman of about a hundred pounds a year, an honest man: he is just
within the Game-Act, and qualified to kill an hare or a pheasant: he
knocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a week; and by that
means lives much cheaper than those that have not so good an estate
as himself. He would be a good neighbor if he did not destroy so many
partridges: in short, he is a very sensible man; shoots flying; and has
been several times foreman of the petty jury.
“The other that rides along with him is Tom Touchy, a fellow for taking
the law of everybody. There is not one in the town where he lives that
he has not sued at quarter-sessions. The rogue had once the impudence
to go to law with the Widow. His head is full of costs, damages, and
ejectments; he plagued a couple of gentlemen so long for a trespass in
breaking one of his hedges, till he was forced to sell the ground it
enclosed to defray the charges of the prosecution: his father left him
fourscore pounds a year; but he has cast and been cast so often, that
is not now worth thirty. I suppose he is going upon the old business of
the willow-tree.”
As Sir Roger was giving me this account of Tom Touchy, Will Wimble and
his two companions stopped short until we came up to them. Will it
seems had been giving his fellow traveler an account of his angling one
day in such a hole; when Tom Touchy, instead of hearing out his story,
told him, that Mr. Such-an-one, if he pleased, might take the law of
him for fishing in that part of the river. My friend Sir Roger heard
them both upon a round trot; and, after having paused some time, told
them, with the air of a man who would not give his judgment rashly,
that _much might be said on both sides_. They were neither of them
dissatisfied with the knight’s determination, because neither of them
found himself in the wrong by it; and upon which we made the best of
our way to the assizes.
The court was set before Sir Roger came, but notwithstanding all the
justices had taken their places upon the bench, they made room for
the old knight at the head of them; who, for his reputation in the
country, took occasion to whisper in the judge’s ear, _that he was
glad his lordship had met with so much good weather in his circuit_.
I was listening to the proceedings of the court with much attention,
and infinitely pleased with the great appearance of solemnity which so
properly accompanies such a public administration of our laws; when,
after about an hour’s sitting, I observed to my great surprise, in the
midst of a trial, that my friend Sir Roger was getting up to speak. I
was in some pain for him till I found he had acquitted himself of two
or three sentences, with a look of much business and great intrepidity.
Upon his first rising the court was hushed, and a general whisper ran
among the country people that Sir Roger _was up_. The speech he made
was so little to the purpose, that I shall not trouble my readers with
an account of it; and I believe was not so much designed by the knight
himself to inform the court, as to give him a figure in my eye, and
keep up his credit in the country.
I was highly delighted, when the court rose, to see the gentlemen of
the country gathering about my old friend, and striving who should
compliment him the most; at the same time that the ordinary people
gazed upon him at a distance, not a little admiring his courage, that
was not afraid to speak to the judge.
In our return home we met with a very odd accident; which I cannot
forbear relating, because it shows how desirous all who know Sir Roger
are of giving him marks of their esteem. When we reappeared upon the
verge of his estate, we stopped at a little inn to rest ourselves and
our horses. The man of the house had, it seems, been formerly a servant
in the knight’s family; and, to do honor to his old master, had some
time since, unknown to Sir Roger, put him up in a sign-post before the
door; so that the _Knight’s Head_ had hung out upon the road a week
before he himself knew anything of the matter. As soon as Sir Roger was
acquainted with it, finding that the servant’s indiscretion proceeded
wholly from affection and good-will, he only told him that he had made
him too high a compliment; and, when the fellow seemed to think that
hardly could be, added with a more decisive look, that it was too great
an honor for any man under a duke; but told him at the same time, that
it might be altered with a very few touches, and that he himself would
be at the charge of it. Accordingly they got a painter by the knight’s
directions to add a pair of whiskers to the face, and by a little
aggravation of the features to change it into the _Saracen’s Head_.
I should not have known this story, had not the innkeeper, upon Sir
Roger’s alighting, told him in my hearing, that his Honor’s head was
brought back last night with the alterations that he had ordered to be
made in it. Upon this my friend with his usual cheerfulness related the
particulars above mentioned, and ordered the head to be brought into
the room. I could not forbear discovering greater expressions of mirth
than ordinary upon the appearance of this monstrous face, under which,
notwithstanding it was made to frown and stare in a most extraordinary
manner, I could still discover a distant resemblance of my old friend.
Sir Roger, upon seeing me laugh, desired me to tell him truly if I
thought it possible for the people to know him in that disguise. I
at first kept my usual silence; but, upon the knight conjuring me to
tell him whether it was not still more like himself than a Saracen, I
composed my countenance in the best manner I could, and replied, _that
much might be said on both sides_.
These several adventures, with the knight’s behavior in them, gave me
as pleasant a day as ever I met with in any of my travels.
* * * * *
If you went abroad at night in those days, it was better to carry a
stout cudgel than a walking cane. Says the poet Gay, in his “Trivia,
or the Art of Walking the Streets of London” Part III, ii, 326,
Who has not trembled at the Mohock’s name?
Was there a watchman took his hourly rounds,
Safe from their blows or new invented wounds?
I pass their desperate deeds and mischief done,
Where from Snow hill black steepy torrents run;
How matrons, hoop’d within the hogshead womb,
Were tumbled furious hence.
The young men of the age, like everyone else, mistook brutality for
pleasure just as do shallow minds today. The difference is, that
whereas we take it out at second hand, looking at blood letting in a
moving picture, or wasting time on a so-called funny sheet where the
humor turns on someone being hurt, they were more sincere and honest
about it. Gay, in his “hogshead womb” refers to the curious practice
of the Mohocks, (which seemed to have something in common with our Ku
Klux Klans in a love for cruelty and mob work), by which they caught a
woman, packed her in a barrel, and set her rolling down a steep hill.
You have seen, and perhaps enjoyed that kind of thing in a screen
“comedy.” As the screen men at times picture impossible cowboys making
innocent citizens dance by firing revolvers close to their feet, so
the Mohocks made them dance by pricking their legs with their swords.
Sometimes they went further, and, like latter day self-appointed
patriotic leagues, killed those they tortured. Of the Mohocks, Swift
writes, in his Journal to Stella, “Did I tell you of a race of rakes,
called the Mohocks, that play the devil about this town every night,
slit people’s noses and beat them? Faith, they shan’t cut mine; I like
it better as it is. The dogs will cost me at least a crown a week in
chairs.”
The good knight had sufficient reason for his fear, for the Mohocks
at one time were a very serious menace. Eustace Bludgell in No. 347
of the _Spectator_, of April 8, 1712, has a paper on the subject. The
fellows who banded themselves together to terrorize quiet citizens,
sometimes worked upon the superstitious fears of the ignorant, “like
those specters and apparitions which frighten several towns and
villages in her majesty’s dominions,” says Bludgell. The Mohocks tried
to form a sort of invisible empire, like the Ku Klux Klan of today.
They had their Emperor of the Mohocks, who sent anonymous letters of
a threatening nature, which were signed, ridiculously enough “Taw
Waw Eben Zan Kalader.” They pretended to constitute themselves into
guardians of law and order, issuing manifestoes setting forth that
“We have received information, from sundry quarters of this great and
populous city, of several outrages committed” and so on. They were,
of course, full of the sentimentality that finds absurd expression in
proclamations that they were defenders of the honor of women. Read
this, from Bludgell’s paper:
And whereas, we have nothing more at our imperial heart than the
reformation of the cities of London and Westminster, which to our
unspeakable satisfaction we have in some measure already affected.
We do hereby earnestly pray and exhort all husbands, fathers,
housekeepers and masters of families ... not only to repair
themselves to their habitations at early and seasonable hours, but
also to keep their daughters, wives, sons, servants and apprentices,
from appearing in the streets at those times and seasons which may
expose them to military discipline as it is practiced by our good
subjects the Mohocks; and we do further promise on our imperial word,
that as soon as the reformation aforesaid shall be brought about. We
will forthwith cause all hostilities to cease.
Given from our Court at the Devil Tavern, March 15th, 1712.