‘I answered him very gravely, that I was indeed altered since I had seen him last. That I had found Leisure to look into my Follies, and to repent of them. I then advised him to pursue the same Steps; and at last concluded with an Assurance, that I myself would lend him a hundred Pound, if it would be of any Service to his Affairs, and he would not put it into the Power of a Die to deprive him of it.
‘Mr. Watson, who seemed almost composed in Slumber by the former Part of my Discourse, was roused by the latter. He seized my Hand eagerly, gave me a thousand Thanks, and declared I was a Friend indeed; adding, that he hoped I had a better Opinion of him, than to imagine he had profited so little by Experience, as to put any Confidence in those damned Dice, which had so often deceived him. “No, no,” cries he, “let me but once handsomely be set up again, and if ever Fortune makes a broken Merchant of me afterwards, I will forgive her.”
‘I very well understood the Language of setting up, and broken Merchant. I therefore said to him with a very grave Face, Mr. Watson, you must endeavour to find out some Business, or Employment, by which you may procure yourself a Livelihood; and I promise you, could I see any Probability of being repaid hereafter, I would advance a much larger Sum than what you have mentioned, to equip you in any fair and honourable Calling; but as to Gaming, besides the Baseness and Wickedness of making it a Profession, you are really, to my own Knowledge, unfit for it, and it will end in your certain Ruin.
‘“Why now, that’s strange,” answered he, “neither you, nor any of my Friends, would ever allow me to know any thing of the Matter, and yet, I believe I am as good a Hand at every Game as any of you all; and I heartily wish I was to play with you only for your whole Fortune; I should desire no better Sport, and I would let you name your Game into the Bargain: But come, my dear Boy, have you the Hundred in your Pocket?”
‘I answered, I had only a Bill for 50l. which I delivered him, and promised to bring him the rest next Morning; and after giving him a little more Advice, took my Leave.
‘I was indeed better than my Word: For I returned to him that very Afternoon. When I entered the Room, I found him sitting up in his Bed at Cards with a notorious Gamester. This Sight, you will imagine, shocked me not a little; to which I may add the Mortification of seeing my Bill delivered by him to his Antagonist, and thirty Guineas only given in Exchange for it.
‘The other Gamester presently quitted the Room, and then Watson declared he was ashamed to see me; “but, says he, I find Luck runs so damnably against me, that I will resolve to leave off Play for ever. I have thought of the kind Proposal you made me ever since, and I promise you there shall be no Fault in me, if I do not put it in Execution.”
‘Though I had no great Faith in his Promises, I produced him the Remainder of the Hundred in consequence of my own; for which he gave me a Note, which was all I ever expected to see in Return for my Money.
‘We were prevented from any further Discourse at present, by the Arrival of the Apothecary; who with much Joy in his Countenance, and without even asking his Patient how he did, proclaimed there was great News arrived in a Letter to himself, which he said would shortly be publick, “That the Duke of Monmouth was landed in the West with a vast Army of Dutch;1 and that another vast Fleet hovered over the Coast of Norfolk, and was to make a Descent there, in order to favour the Duke’s Enterprize with a Diversion on that Side.”
‘This Apothecary was one of the greatest Politicians of his Time. He was more delighted with the most paultry Packet, than with the best Patient; and the highest Joy he was capable of, he received from having a Piece of News in his Possession an Hour or two sooner than any other Person in the Town. His Advices, however, were seldom authentic; for he would swallow almost any thing as a Truth, a Humour which many made use of to impose upon him.
‘Thus it happened with what he at present communicated; for it was known within a short Time afterwards, that the Duke was really landed; but that his Army consisted only of a few Attendants; and as to the Diversion in Norfolk, it was entirely false.
‘The Apothecary staid no longer in the Room than while he acquainted us with his News; and then, without saying a Syllable to his Patient on any other Subject, departed to spread his Advices all over the Town.
‘Events of this Nature in the Public are generally apt to eclipse all private Concerns. Our Discourse, therefore, now became entirely political. For my own Part, I had been for some Time very seriously affected with the Danger to which the Protestant Religion was so visibly exposed, under a Popish Prince; and thought the Apprehension of it alone sufficient to justify that Insurrection: For no real Security can ever be found against the persecuting Spirit of Popery, when armed with Power, except the depriving it of that Power, as woeful Experience presently shewed. You know how King James behaved after getting the better of this Attempt; how little he valued either his Royal Word, or Coronation-Oath, or the Liberties and Rights of his People. But all had not the Sense to foresee this at first; and therefore the Duke of Monmouth was weakly supported; yet all could feel when the Evil came upon them; and therefore all united, at last, to drive out that King, against whose Exclusion a great Party among us had so warmly contended, during the Reign of his Brother,2 and for whom they now fought with such Zeal and Affection.’
‘What you say,’ interrupted Jones, ‘is very true; and it has often struck me, as the most wonderful Thing I ever read of in History, that so soon after this convincing Experience, which brought our whole Nation to join so unanimously in expelling King James, for the Preservation of our Religion and Liberties, there should be a Party among us mad enough to desire the placing his Family again on the Throne.’ ‘You are not in Earnest!’ answered the old Man; ‘there can be no such Party. As bad an Opinion as I have of Mankind, I cannot believe them infatuated to such a Degree! There may be some hot-headed Papists led by their Priests to engage in this desperate Cause, and think it a Holy War; but that Protestants, that are Members of the Church of England, should be such Apostates, such Felos de se, I cannot believe it; no, no, young Man, unacquainted as I am with what has past in the World for these last thirty Years, I cannot be so imposed upon as to credit so foolish a Tale: But I see you have a Mind to sport with my Ignorance.’ ‘Can it be possible,’ replied Jones, ‘that you have lived so much out of the World as not to know, that during that Time there have been two Rebellions in favour of the Son of King James,3 one of which is now actually raging in the very Heart of the Kingdom?’ At these Words the old Gentleman started up, and, in a most solemn Tone of Voice, conjured Jones by his Maker to tell him, if what he said was really true: Which the other as solemnly affirming, he walked several Turns about the Room, in a profound Silence, then cried, then laughed, and, at last, fell down on his Knees, and blessed God, in a loud Thanksgiving Prayer, for having delivered him from all Society with Human Nature, which could be capable of such monstrous Extravagances. After which, being reminded by Jones that he had broke off his Story, he resumed it again in this Manner.
‘As Mankind, in the Days I was speaking of, was not yet arrived to that Pitch of Madness which I find they are capable of now, and which, to be sure, I have only escaped by living alone, and at a Distance from the Contagion, there was a considerable Rising in favour of Monmouth; and my Principles strongly inclining me to take the same Part, I determined to join him; and Mr. Watson, from different Motives concurring in the same Resolution (for the Spirit of a Gamester will carry a Man as far upon such an Occasion as the Spirit of Patriotism,) we soon provided ourselves with all Necessaries, and went to the Duke at Bridgewater.
‘The unfortunate Event of this Enterprize you are, I conclude, as well acquainted with as myself. I escaped, together with Mr. Watson, from the Battle at Sedgemore, in which Action I received a slight Wound. We rode near forty Miles together on the Exeter Road, and then abandoning our Horses, scrambled as well as we could through the Fields and Bye-Roads, till we arrived at a little wild Hut on a Common, where a poor old Woman took all the Care of u
s she could, and dressed my Wound with Salve, which quickly healed it.’
‘Pray, Sir, where was the Wound,’ says Partridge. The Stranger satisfied him it was in his Arm, and then continued his Narrative. ‘Here, Sir,’ said he, ‘Mr. Watson left me the next Morning, in order, as he pretended, to get us some Provision from the Town of Cullumpton; but—can I relate it? or can you believe it?—This Mr. Watson, this Friend, this base, barbarous, treacherous Villain, betrayed me to a Party of Horse belonging to King James, and, at his Return, delivered me into their Hands.
‘The Soldiers, being six in Number, had now seized me, and were conducting me to Taunton Goal; but neither my present Situation, nor the Apprehensions of what might happen to me, were half so irksome to my Mind, as the Company of my false Friend, who, having surrendered himself, was likewise considered as a Prisoner, tho’ he was better treated, as being to make his Peace at my Expence. He at first endeavoured to excuse his Treachery; but when he received nothing but Scorn and Upbraiding from me, he soon changed his Note, abused me as the most atrocious and malicious Rebel, and laid all his own Guilt to my Charge, who, as he declared, had solicited, and even threatened him, to make him take up Arms against his gracious, as well as lawful Sovereign.
‘This false Evidence, (for, in Reality, he had been much the forwarder of the two) stung me to the Quick, and raised an Indignation scarce conceivable by those who have not felt it. However, Fortune at length took Pity on me; for as we were got a little beyond Wellington, in a narrow Lane, my Guards received a false Alarm, that near fifty of the Enemy were at hand, upon which they shifted for themselves, and left me and my Betrayer to do the same. That Villain immediately ran from me, and I am glad he did, or I should have certainly endeavoured, though I had no Arms, to have executed Vengeance on his Baseness.
‘I was now once more at Liberty, and immediately withdrawing from the Highway into the Fields, I travelled on, scarce knowing which Way I went, and making it my chief Care to avoid all public Roads, and all Towns, nay, even the most homely Houses; for I imagined every human Creature whom I saw, desirous of betraying me.
‘At last, after rambling several Days about the Country, during which the Fields afforded me the same Bed, and the same Food, which Nature bestows on our Savage Brothers of the Creation, I at length arrived at this Place, where the Solitude and Wildness of the Country invited me to fix my Abode. The first Person with whom I took up my Habitation was the Mother of this old Woman, with whom I remained concealed, till the News of the glorious Revolution4 put an End to all my Apprehensions of Danger, and gave me an Opportunity of once more visiting my own Home, and of enquiring a little into my Affairs, which I soon settled as agreeably to my Brother as to myself; having resigned every Thing to him, for which he paid me the Sum of a thousand Pounds, and settled on me an Annuity for Life.
‘His Behaviour in this last Instance, as in all others, was selfish and ungenerous. I could not look on him as my Friend, nor indeed did he desire that I should; so I presently took my Leave of him, as well as of my other Acquaintance; and from that Day to this my History is little better than a Blank.’
‘And is it possible, Sir,’ said Jones, ‘that you can have resided here, from that Day to this?’ ‘O no, Sir,’ answered the Gentleman, ‘I have been a great Traveller, and there are few Parts of Europe with which I am not acquainted.’ ‘I have not, Sir,’ cried Jones, ‘the Assurance to ask it of you now. Indeed it would be cruel, after so much Breath as you have already spent. But you will give me Leave to wish for some further Opportunity of hearing the excellent Observations, which a Man of your Sense and Knowledge of the World must have made in so long a Course of Travels.’ ‘Indeed, young Gentleman,’ answered the Stranger, ‘I will endeavour to satisfy your Curiosity on this Head likewise, as far as I am able.’ Jones attempted fresh Apologies, but was prevented; and while he and Partridge sat with greedy and impatient Ears, the Stranger proceeded as in the next Chapter.
CHAPTER XV.
A brief History of Europe. And a curious Discourse between Mr. Jones and the Man of the Hill.
‘In Italy the Landlords are very silent. In France they are more talkative, but yet civil. In Germany and Holland they are generally very impertinent. And as for their Honesty, I believe it is pretty equal in all those Countries. The Laquais à Louage1 are sure to lose no Opportunity of cheating you: And as for the Postilions, I think they are pretty much alike all the World over. These, Sir, are the Observations on Men which I made in my Travels; for these were the only Men I ever conversed with. My Design, when I went abroad, was to divert myself by seeing the wondrous Variety of Prospects, Beasts, Birds, Fishes, Insects, and Vegetables, with which God has been pleased to enrich the several Parts of this Globe. A Variety, which as it must give great Pleasure to a contemplative Beholder, so doth it admirably display the Power and Wisdom and Goodness of the Creator. Indeed, to say the Truth, there is but one Work in his whole Creation that doth him any Dishonour, and with that I have long since avoided holding any Conversation.’
‘You will pardon me,’ cries Jones, ‘but I have always imagined, that there is in this very Work you mention, as great Variety as in all the rest; for besides the Difference of Inclination, Customs and Climates have, I am told, introduced the utmost Diversity into Human Nature.’ ‘Very little indeed,’ answered the other; ‘those who travel in order to acquaint themselves with the different Manners of Men, might spare themselves much Pains, by going to a Carnival at Venice; for there they will see at once all which they discover in the several Courts of Europe. The same Hypocrisy, the same Fraud; in short, the same Follies and Vices, dressed in different Habits. In Spain these are equipped with much Gravity; and in Italy, with vast Splendor. In France, a Knave is dressed like a Fop; and in the Northern Countries, like a Sloven. But Human Nature is every where the same, every where the Object of Detestation and Scorn.
‘As for my own Part, I past through all these Nations, as you perhaps may have done through a Croud at a Shew, jostling to get by them, holding my Nose with one Hand, and defending my Pockets with the other, without speaking a Word to any of them, while I was pressing on to see what I wanted to see; which, however entertaining it might be in itself, scarce made me Amends for the Trouble the Company gave me.’
‘Did not you find some of the Nations among which you travelled, less troublesome to you than others?’ said Jones. ‘O yes,’ replied the old Man; ‘the Turks were much more tolerable to me than the Christians. For they are Men of profound Taciturnity, and never disturb a Stranger with Questions. Now and then indeed they bestow a short Curse upon him, or spit in his Face as he walks the Streets, but then they have done with him; and a Man may live an Age in their Country without hearing a dozen Words from them. But of all the People I ever saw, Heaven defend me from the French. With their damned Prate and Civilities, and doing the Honour of their Nation to Strangers, (as they are pleased to call it) but indeed setting forth their own Vanity; they are so troublesome, that I had infinitely rather pass my Life with the Hottentots, than set my Foot in Paris again. They are a nasty People, but their Nastiness is mostly without; whereas in France, and some other Nations that I won’t name, it is all within, and makes them stink much more to my Reason than that of Hottentots does to my Nose.
‘Thus, Sir, I have ended the History of my Life; for as to all that Series of Years, during which I have lived retired here, it affords no Variety to entertain you, and may be almost considered as one Day. The Retirement has been so compleat, that I could hardly have enjoyed a more absolute Solitude in the Deserts of the Thebais, than here in the midst of this populous Kingdom. As I have no Estate, I am plagued with no Tenants or Stewards; my Annuity is paid me pretty regularly, as indeed it ought to be; for it is much less than what I might have expected, in Return for what I gave up. Visits I admit none; and the old Woman who keeps my House knows, that her Place entirely depends upon her saving me all the Trouble of buying the Things that I want, keeping off all Sollicitation or Business f
rom me, and holding her Tongue whenever I am within hearing. As my Walks are all by Night, I am pretty secure in this wild, unfrequented Place from meeting any Company. Some few Persons I have met by Chance, and sent them home heartily frighted, as from the Oddness of my Dress and Figure they took me for a Ghost or a Hobgoblin. But what has happened To-night shews, that even here I cannot be safe from the Villainy of Men; for without your Assistance I had not only been robbed, but very probably murdered.’
Jones thanked the Stranger for the Trouble he had taken in relating his Story, and then expressed some Wonder how he could possibly endure a Life of such Solitude; ‘in which,’ says he, ‘you may well complain of the Want of Variety. Indeed I am astonished how you have filled up, or rather killed, so much of your Time.’
‘I am not at all surprized,’ answered the other, ‘that to one whose Affections and Thoughts are fixed on the World, my Hours should appear to have wanted Employment in this Place; but there is one single Act, for which the whole Life of Man is infinitely too short. What Time can suffice for the Contemplation and Worship of that glorious, immortal, and eternal Being, among the Works of whose stupendous Creation, not only this Globe, but even those numberless Luminaries which we may here behold spangling all the Sky, tho’ they should many of them be Suns lighting different Systems of Worlds, may possibly appear but as a few Atoms, opposed to the whole Earth which we inhabit? Can a Man who, by Divine Meditations, is admitted, as it were, into the Conversation of this ineffable, incomprehensible Majesty, think Days, or Years, or Ages, too long for the Continuance of so ravishing an Honour? Shall the trifling Amusements, the palling Pleasures, the silly Business of the World, roll away our Hours too swiftly from us; and shall the Pace of Time seem sluggish to a Mind exercised in Studies so high, so important, and so glorious! As no Time is sufficient, so no Place is improper for this great Concern. On what Object can we cast our Eyes, which may not inspire us with Ideas of his Power, of his Wisdom, and of his Goodness? It is not necessary, that the rising Sun should dart his fiery Glories over the Eastern Horizon; nor that the boisterous Winds should rush from their Caverns, and shake the lofty Forest; nor that the opening Clouds should pour their Deluges on the Plains: It is not necessary, I say, that any of these should proclaim his Majesty; there is not an Insect, not a Vegetable, of so low an Order in the Creation, as not to be honoured with bearing Marks of the Attributes of its great Creator; Marks not only of his Power, but of his Wisdom and Goodness. Man alone, the King of this Globe, the last and greatest Work of the Supreme Being, below the Sun; Man alone hath basely dishonoured his own Nature, and by Dishonesty, Cruelty, Ingratitude, and Treachery, hath called his Maker’s Goodness in Question, by puzzling us to account how a benevolent Being should form so foolish, and so vile an Animal. Yet this is the Being from whose Conversation you think, I suppose, that I have been unfortunately restrained; and without whose blessed Society, Life, in your Opinion, must be tedious and insipid.’
The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics) Page 55