It was now time I should visit the president, and we parted. This college magistrate had formerly been acquainted with my grandfather, and I had strong recommendations to him from my native village: he therefore laid aside much of his dignity, and questioned me on various subjects. He took but little notice of the reading and knowledge I was ambitious to display, but gave me much advice and instruction, concerning the college and university discipline, necessary to be observed, which he very seriously admonished me not to neglect.

I endeavoured to find what his opinion concerning Hector Mowbray was, and the lord to whom I had been introduced; but this he evaded, with a caution to me however not to indulge in any imprudent expence.

I then mentioned the name of Turl, at which he seemed instantly alarmed, and replied, 'he should be exceedingly sorry if Mr. Turl were one of my acquaintance. He was a very dangerous young man, and had dared not only to entertain but to make known some very heterodox opinions. He had even proceeded so far as to declare himself an anti-trinitarian, and should therefore certainly never receive his countenance; neither he nor any of his connections. If he escaped expulsion, he would assuredly never obtain his degrees.' I was too orthodox myself not to be startled at this intelligence, and felt a very severe pang that a young man, from whose conversation I had hoped so much, should hold such reprobate doctrines. I had thought he would prove both an instructive and pleasant companion, but I now positively determined to shun his society. Of this I informed the president, and he highly applauded my resolution.

I then proceeded to the ceremony of entering myself of the college, and took the oaths: that is, I subscribed to the thirty-nine articles, took an oath of allegiance and supremacy, an oath to observe the statutes of the university, and another to obey every thing that was contained in a certain huge statute book of the college, brought out on this occasion, which I never saw either before or since. To this hour, what its contents were is a thing to me unknown. What is still more strange, the very persons who oblige you to take these statute-book oaths publickly confess that to obey most of them is impossible. They relate to obsolete customs, the very means of practising which are wanting. Some for example swear to have mass said for the soul of the founder of the college; and others, though men of good estates, swear themselves not worth five pounds per annum. Of these particulars however I was ignorant, and the whole was hurried over so much in the way of form, and without inquiry of any kind, that it seemed like the mere dictate of good manners to do what I was bidden.

Warned by the information which Turl had communicated, and disgusted by what I myself had seen and partaken of, I industriously for sometime avoided Hector Mowbray, who as it happened was too much engaged in his own pursuits to molest me. In about three weeks however he came to me one morning, rallied me in his coarse way, asked if I had entered myself of the glums, and insisted that I should go with him and take a ride to Abingdon. The chaise would be ready in half an hour, and he would introduce me to the finest girl in all England. Thinking his language equivocal and suspecting his intentions, I ventured to ask if she were a modest woman? He burst into a loud laugh and exclaimed (I shall omit his oaths) 'Modest! to be sure! as modest as any of her sex.' This did not satisfy me; I continued to interrogate and he to laugh, but still swearing there was not a modester woman in all England. A strong inclination to take exercise, my own active curiosity, and the boisterous bawling and obstinacy of Hector at length prevailed, and I yielded. I walked with him to the inn, the chaise was ready, and we stepped into it and galloped away.

As we were driving on, the image of the gentle Olivia rose to my recollection. Instantly the thought struck me, 'If it should be! Why not? Who else could it be? Oh, it must! Yes, yes!' I was soon convinced it could be no other than Olivia! the dear the divine Olivia!

In less than forty minutes we were at Abingdon, and the postillion by Hector's direction drove us on the back of the town till we came to a neat newly painted house, at which he was ordered to stop. My heart began to beat. Hector jumped out and thundered at the door. A female threw up the sash, looked through the window, and instantly drew it down again. Alas! it was not Olivia.

There was some delay: the impatient Hector cursed and knocked again, and in a little while the door was opened.

Hector entered swearing, hurried up stairs, bad me follow him, dashed open the door, and a young lady, in a sky-blue riding-habit, with embroidered button-holes, a nosegay in her bosom, and a purple cestus round her waist—leaped into his arms!—I stood in a trance! It was she herself! That sweet lovely creature, who had lost her purse, given a draft on her banker, and gone to relieve a poor sick relation at Cirencester! It was the true and identical Harriet Palmer! She that had been so attentive to me; had sugared my tea, suffered me to sup in her company, and been so fearful lest I should be sick by riding backward! The innocent soul, that had felt her delicacy so much disturbed by the horse-godmother rudeness of the men-fellows!—'Bless me!' said I.

She had not time to attend to me. 'What the d—mn—t——n is the matter?' said Hector. 'Why was not I let in? Who have you here?'—'Here!' answered the sweet creature. 'How can you suppose I have any body here?'

There was a watch studded with diamonds lying on the sofa; it caught the eye of Mowbray; he snatched it up, and with a volley of oaths asked—'Whose watch is this?'—'Mine!' said Harriet. Hector looked again. 'Yours? Set with diamonds? A man's gold chain? Here's the seal of Lord Sad-dog! His arms engraved on it! I thought I saw one of his fellows, as we turned the corner!'

There was another door, to an inner chamber; to that Hector, with all his force, applied his foot. A loud laugh was heard within, the door opened, and out came Lord Sad-dog in propria persona.

Miss Palmer, not knowing what better to do, joined his lordship in the forced laugh. The surly Hector shewed every propensity to brutal revenge, but had only the courage to bully; in which art the lord and the lady soon shewed they were as great proficients as himself.

As for the feelings of the blooming Harriet and me, they were reciprocal; we were equally averse to acknowledge each other for acquaintance. I did not wish to be proclaimed the dupe of a courtezan, nor she to pay back the ten guineas, or be sued for a fraud. Hector was in no humour to stay, and we soon returned to Oxford; I ruminating and even laughing, now at myself, now at him; he in high dudgeon, and finding his choler and his courage increase in proportion as he was driven farther from danger.



CHAPTER XVI

Education still progressive: A widow's continence: Religious fervour: A methodist sermon: Olivia in danger: Love dreams: Fanatic horrors: Present disgrace, and honours delayed

During the short period of my absence from my native home, I had been taught two additional and essential lessons: the first, that men are not all as good as they might be; and the second, that I was not quite so wise as I had supposed myself. Having once been duped, the thought occurred that it was possible I might be duped again, and I thus acquired some small degree of what is called worldly caution. At once to display one vice and teach another, to expose fraud and inspire suspicion, is, to an unadulterated mind, a severe and odious lesson; and, when repeated too often, is in danger of inculcating a mistake infinitely more pernicious than that of credulity; that is, a conviction that man is depraved by nature, and a total forgetfulness that he is merely the creature of habit and accident.

Hitherto I had met disappointment; but I had found novelty; and though it was not the novelty I expected, yet it was invigorating: it kept me awake. The qualities for which I most valued myself no one indeed seemed to notice. But the world was before me; I had seen but little of it; my own feelings assured me genius and virtue had a real existence, and sometime or another I should find them.

Among consolatory thoughts, the most animating was the recollection of what Turl had said, that, to the possessor of fortitude and virtue, Oxford was a place where study might be most advantageously prosecuted; and, aided by this cheering hope, I applied myself to books with courage and assiduity.

On the subject of reading however my mind had strong contentions with itself: poetry, and the belles lettres, Homer, Horace, Virgil, Shakespeare, Spenser, Milton, Dryden, Tasso, Ariosto, Racine, Moliere, Congreve, with a long and countless et caetera, were continually tempting me to quit the barren pursuits of divinity and law, for the study of which I had come to Oxford. Yet a sense of duty so far prevailed that I went through a course of the fathers, pored over the canonists, and made many resolute attacks upon the schoolmen. Not only Aristotle but his doctors, the irrefragable, the angelic or eagle-eyed, the subtile, the illuminated, and many more had their peaceful folios vainly disturbed by my researches, and my determination to understand what, alas, in its essence was unintelligible.

In the very beginning as it were of these labours an event took place, which gave a very serious aspect to my future fortunes, though, except the first emotions of regret chagrin and surprise at my mother's conduct, no present uneasiness to me. In despite of his law-suits, my grandfather had left considerable property; which it was supposed would descend to me. It had indeed the disadvantage of being left under the executorship of a lawyer, who represented it to be in a very involved and disorderly state: for, with respect to my mother, though she had immediate possession, she declared that, agreeably to the intention of the rector, her own subsistence excepted, she held it only for my use. Thus, in several of her letters, she had affectionately pressed me not to deprive myself of what was necessary to my situation, to the appearance of a gentleman, or to the support of the family character.

For the first two months we punctually wrote to each other once a week. 'My dear dear Hugh' was the first phrase in all her letters; and 'my kind and good mother' in mine: every maternal anxiety was expressed by her, and by me every return of filial affection and duty.

At length a week came in which I received no letter. I was alarmed, wrote to express my fears, and in a few days was answered, by the lawyer, that my mother was in good health, but was from home on a visit.

A month longer passed away in silence, at the end of which I wrote to my mother, expressing my feelings and fears, and requesting an answer under her own hand; otherwise I should come myself to see what was the matter.

The answer arrived, I hastily opened it, and began to read. It was no longer prefaced with 'my dear dear Hugh:' It was what follows.

'Dear Son,

'You seem impatient to hear from me, and so I sit down to write you an account of something that has happened, which perhaps you will think well of; I hope you will; I am sure you have no reason to think otherwise; though, when one does things all for the best, one is not always best thought of. But I dare say you will not think ill of your mother, for that would not be dutiful, nor at all agreeable to what your poor dear grandfather always taught. Nobody can suppose that I am not come to years of discretion; and you very well know I have always been a good and tender mother to you; and so I always shall be; and I am sure you will not think hardly and improperly of my conduct in any way, for that would be very unkind and unbecoming; and, if I have done all for the best, to be hardly thought of afterwards would be very improper indeed. Mr. Thornby [the lawyer] is a very prudent man, and so I have acted by his advice, which you may well think cannot be wrong; and his nephew, Mr. Wakefield, is a gentleman that nobody need be ashamed of owning; and so, since you must be told, you may as well be told at first as at last—I am married; which I hope and expect you will think was a very prudent thing. I am sure when you come to know Mr. Wakefield you will like him prodigiously. He sends his kind blessing to you, and so I remain your ever loving mother

JANE WAKEFIELD.'

Little as I was attached to personal interest or fearful of being left without a provision, I own this letter electrified me. Was this the tone of affection? Had it vanished so instantly? After such strong and reiterated professions for my sake never to have a second husband, not only to marry but to cool intirely toward me, and to be only anxious, in a poor selfish circumlocutory apology, for a conduct which she herself felt to be highly reprehensible!

The lawyer too! His nephew? Not satisfied with the executorship, he had engulphed the whole in his family, the stipend of a hundred a year while I remained at college, and a thousand pounds for the purchase of an advowson when I should leave it, excepted. I wondered, on reflection, that he should even have advised the rector to this: but it was by affecting disinterestedness that he could most effectually secure the remainder.

But the pain these thoughts occasioned was neither debilitating nor durable. My sanguine self-confidence, though sometimes apalled, has all my life prevented me from being subject to fits of permanent chagrin, or melancholy. The recollection of my mother's passionate promises, the shortness of the time, the suddenness of the change, the family into which she had married, and the instability of a woman that was my mother, drew a few sighs from me, and in these my gloom evaporated. I returned cheerfully to my books and determined to visit home no more, but while a student to make Oxford my home, and not incur the frequently well-merited reproach of being a term-trotter.

As for my companion, Hector, whatever the intentions of the Squire his father might be, he considered Oxford only as a place of dissipation, and loved it for nothing but because he was here first let entirely loose, and here first found comrades that were worthy to be his peers. Most of his time was now spent in London, or in parties such as himself and his intimates planned. I suffered little interruption from him: he now and then indeed gave me an indolent call; but, as there was no parity of pursuit, nor unity of sentiment between us, there could be but little intercourse.

Little farther remarkable happened during the three years and ten months of my residence in this city, except the incident that occasioned my removal. By being a constant spectator of the debauchery of the young, and the sensuality of the old, I conceived an increasing dislike of their manners, and sought the company of a few secluded young men, who like myself were severe students. Toward the close of this period I became acquainted with some who were tinged with methodism; and, by frequently listening to their conversation, my thoughts were turned into the same channel. The want of zeal in prayer and every part of religious duty, the tedious and dull sermons heard in the churches, and what methodists call preaching themselves and not their Saviour, were the frequent topics of our animadversion.

This was a doctrine most aptly calculated to inflame an imagination like mine, which was ardent and enthusiastic. Beside it relieved me from a multitude of labours and cares, for, as I proceeded, Thomas Aquinas and his subtilizing competitors were thrown by in contempt. I had learned divinity by inspiration, and soon believed myself fit for a reformer. The philosopher Aristotle with his dialectics and sophisms were exchanged, for those of the philosopher Saint Paul; from whom I learnt that he who had saving faith had every thing, and that he who wanted it was naked of all excellence as the new born babe. This nakedness I had discovered in myself, and in the language of the sect was immediately clothed in the righteousness of Christ Jesus! I, in common with my methodistical brethren, was chosen of the elect! My name was inscribed in the book of life never to be erased! My sins were washed away! Satan had no power over me; and to myself and my new fraternity I applied the text, that 'the gates of hell could not prevail against us!'

To these mysteries, which all the initiated allow are suddenly unfolded, descending like lightening by the inspiration of the spirit and illuminating the darkened soul, to these mysteries no man perhaps was ever a more sudden or a more combustible kind of convert than myself. I beamed with gospel light; it shone through me. I was the beacon of this latter age: a comet, sent to warn the wicked. I mean, I was all this in my own imagination, which swelled and mounted to the very acme of fanaticism.

Under the impulse of these wild dreams, in which my soul delighted, I was sometimes tempted to rise up a prophet, preach salvation to the poor, and confound the wise. Persecution I must expect, but in that I should glory: it was the badge of blessedness, the mark of election, the signing of the covenant. Elevated to these celestial heights, with what contempt did I look down on the doctors, proctors, and preachers of Baal (for such were all the unenlightened) and on their dignities, paraphernalia, and many coloured robes. What were these but the types of Babylon? the ensigns of the scarlet whore? the purple tokens of the beast? In the most extravagant eccentricities of mind it is remarkable what a mixture there is of truth and falsehood, and how nearly and frequently they approach each other.

During the height of this paroxysm, a famous gospel preacher, a divine man, on his way from Shropshire to London, came to hold forth in the vicinity of Oxford: not in churches, they were shut upon him, but in the fields; not to the rich, not to the worldy wise, not to the self righteous, they were deaf, but to the poor in spirit, to the polluted, the hardened reprobate, who wished by faith and repentance, though dyed in sin like scarlet, to be washed white as wool. To hear this teacher of the word, who set up his stool near a village on the Witney road, I repaired: I and many a moaning old woman beside; watchful, with our chorus of amen and our sobs and groans at every divine ejaculation, to aid the heaving motions of the spirit, and take heaven by storm.

The elect were assembled, and with them a greater number of the unconverted; heads were uncovered, a hymn was sung, and a long extempore string of intercessions, praying that the Lord would lay bare his arm and strike the guilty with terror; that Christ crucified would be among them; that they might be washed in the blood of the immaculate lamb; and that the holy spirit would breathe the God-man Jesus into all hearts, with many more absurdities, was uttered.

The preacher then took his text, and chose for his subject the casting of the buyers and sellers out of the temple. This was an opportunity not to be lost by me. A gospel minister was indeed a rara avis, at Oxford. I therefore took out my utensils and very industriously wrote notes, that the divine breathings of the man of God might not be lost upon me.—'Buyers and sellers,' said he, 'you must be cast out! The tables of the money changers must be overthrown; you have defiled the temple of the Saviour! In what do you trade? In vanity. In gold, silver, iron, brass, houses, corn, cattle, goods, and chattels. But gold and silver may be stolen; iron will rust; brass will break; cattle will die; corn will mildew; houses will burn; they will tumble about your ears! Repent, or you will quickly bring an old house over your heads! Your goods and chattels will but kindle the fire in which you are to burn everlastingly! What are your occupations? Why, to hoard, and sell your souls for gain, that your heirs may squander and buy a hot place in hell! I am not one of your fashionable fine spoken mealy mouthed preachers: I tell you the plain truth. What are your pastimes? Cards and dice, fiddling and dancing, guzzling and guttling! Can you be saved by dice? No! Will the four knaves give you a passport to heaven? No! Can you fiddle yourself into a good birth among the sheep? No! You are goats, and goat like you may dance yourselves to damnation! You may guzzle wine here, but you shall want a drop of water to cool your tongue hereafter! You may guttle, while righteous Lazarus is lying at your gate. But wait a little! He shall soon lie in Abraham's bosom, while you shall roast on the devil's great gridiron, and be seasoned just to his tooth!—Will the prophets say, "Come here gamester, and teach us the long odds?"—'Tis odds if they do!—Will the martyrs rant, and swear, and shuffle, and cut with you? No! The martyrs are no shufflers! You will be cut so as you little expect: you are a field of tares, and Lucifer is your head farmer. He will come with his reapers and his sickles and his forks, and you will be cut down and bound and pitched and carted and housed in hell. I will not oil my lips with lies to please you: I tell you the plain truth: you will go to hell! Ammon and Mammon and Moloch are head stoakers; they are making Bethhoron hot for you! Prophane wretches, you daily wrangle and brawl and tell one another—"I will see you damned first!"—But I tell you the day will come when you will pray to Beelzebub to let you escape his clutches! And what will be his answer?—"I will see you damned first!'"

To this rhapsody of strange but impressive vulgar eloquence I listened, with rapture, for nearly an hour; selecting and noting down the passages that I thought most remarkable, many of which were too extravagant, if repeated, to be believed. In the height of these effusions, when the divine man was torturing his lungs to be heard by the increasing croud, he on his stool, I seated uncapped in a cart by his side, who should I see approach, in a phaeton and pair, but Hector Mowbray? And by his side—! Yes!—Olivia! The beauteous Olivia! no longer a child, but tall, straight, perfectly formed; every limb in the most captivating symmetry, every feature in the full bloom of youth; intelligence in every look, grace in every motion, sweetness in every smile! Attracted by curiosity, her brother arrested his course, drew up, and placed the celestial vision full in view!

Oh, frailty of the flesh! My new made garb of righteousness dropped from my shoulders! The old Adam, that had been dead in me, again revived; the workings of the spirit ceased; I gazed on an apparition which was indeed heavenly, and forgot the apostles the prophets and the martyrs! The preacher himself was heard no more; nor more would have been heard, had he not with all the effrontery of a fanatic interrupted his discourse, to address himself personally to Hector and Olivia, by which he excited sensations in me that were wholly unexpected—'Jehu driveth furiously,' said he; 'but Jezebel was given to the dogs! (My choler instantly began to rise) Sinners! drive not so fast! The way is broad, and Tophet is gaping, where is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth! You will be there, poor lost souls, sooner than you expect! The way to heaven is narrow, much too narrow for your large consciences; and, though the court is spacious, the gate is too little for you to drive in with your coaches and six! No, not even your vis a vis, nor your phaetons neither, not so much as a tumbril or a buggie can get past! But perhaps you think to ride up to the gate, and there to cry, peccavi! and that then it will open, and you will be admitted? But, no! no! I tell you, no! You shall never be able to utter more than pec, pec, pec; and while with your mouths open you are stammering and stuttering to get out cavi, Satan and his blackguards shall come and peck you, even as crows peck carrion. Yes, Jehu and Jezebel! Remember! I give you warning!'

If I, one of the preacher's disciples, could scarcely refrain from falling upon him for his insolence, what must the choleric and brutal Hector feel, hearing himself repeatedly laughed at by the delighted unmannerly mob, during this impudent harangue? He dropped the reins, jumped from the phaeton, sprang through the croud, and began to horse-whip the inspired man in the most furious manner.

And now an accident happened; which of all others that I can remember gave me the most terror. Olivia sat alone In the phaeton, the reins were loose, and the fighting shouting and uproar of the divided mob occasioned the horses to take fright They snorted, kicked, and set off full speed; with the helpless Olivia screaming for aid! The moment Hector left the carriage I saw what was likely to happen, leaped from the cart where I sat, and flew like lightening after the frantic animals. Few men were swifter of foot than I was, but they had the start and were on the full gallop. The danger was imminent. On one side of the road was a gravel pit, on the other the river, and before them was a bridge, the walls of which were not breast high. A cart was passing the bridge, and the mad horses, still on full speed, ran on the wrong side, dashed the phaeton against the cart, overturned it, and threw Olivia over the wall into the river!

The freshes had lately come down, and the stream was both deep and strong. I was at the foot of the bridge when she fell; and when I reached the place she was still above water, and had passed the arch on the other side. I instantly stripped off my coat cap and gown, sprang into the eddy, made a few strokes, and, as happy fortune would have it, just caught her as she was sinking!

Loaded with this precious burden, I had the strength of twenty men. I stemmed the current and presently brought her into shallow water, where I could find footing. I then bore her into the nearest house, and every possible aid was immediately administered.

While I was thus employed Hector arrived, his rage boiling over anew, at his lamed horses and broken phaeton; for his inquiries concerning his sister were short, as soon as he understood that she was not drowned. I paid as little attention to him as he did to her, and was disturbed only by my fears lest the fright should be productive of fever, or still worse consequences.

Olivia had too much sincerity of heart, and too great a desire to remove the anxiety of those around her, to be guilty of the least affectation. She had received no injury, for the danger being over her mind was too strong not to dispel her fears; and, after reposing an hour and finding herself perfectly well, she insisted on coming down and joining us at dinner. Her thanks to me in words were not profuse, but they were emphatical. 'She was alive, and should never forget that she owed that life to me.' This she three times repeated; once at table, again in the post-chaise in which we returned to Oxford, and once more when we took leave of each other in the evening.

To me this day was indeed a day of tumult. Nothing perhaps more aptly prepares the mind for the passion of love than religious enthusiasm. The subject of my conversation with Olivia was chiefly a revival of former times, which seemed to be remembered by us mutually with glowing regret, as the happiest moments of our existence: times which I inwardly dreaded might never return.

Fanatical reveries excepted, this perhaps was the first desponding thought I had known; at least it was the first I can distinctly remember, and the pang that accompanied it was severe. Olivia was so lovely, her form so enchanting, her manners so captivating, that my eyes were riveted on her, my soul absorbed, and the faculty of thinking arrested. Every look of her beaming eyes penetrated to the heart, every motion of her moist coral lips gave exstacy, and every variation of her features discovered new ineffable and angelic beauties!

Why did the hours fly? Why was the day so short? She had only passed through Oxford in her way to London, and was to depart in the morning. I would gladly have persuaded her to regard her health, and not expose herself so soon after the fright; but in vain. She felt no malady, nor would acknowledge any; and the selfish Hector was rather inclined to hurry her off than invite her to stay. It was years since I had seen her, and to be torn thus suddenly from bliss unutterable? Never had I felt a pang like this before!

In the evening, returned to my chamber and left in solitude, I sat with my arms folded, disconsolate, motionless, and in a profound but yet a most active trance. I remained thus for hours, ardently thinking on Olivia, recollecting every incident of my past life in which she had had the least part, placing all her divine perfections full in view, and unable to detach my mind one moment from the beatific vision.

At length by accident, I cast my eye on two books, that lay on the mantle-piece before me: Baxter's Call to the Unconverted, and the History of Francis Spira: two of the most terrific productions, to such a mind at such a moment, that ever the ravings of fanaticism sent forth. The impulse was irresistible; I opened them, read, and all the horrors of hell came upon me. I was a backslider! Perdition was certain! All the torments that Baxter described were devouring me, and my soul was sinking, like the soul of Francis Spira, into sulphureous flames, there to howl and be eternally tormented by the malignant mocks and mows of inexorable fiends! I have since suffered many evils, or what are called evils, and have known misfortunes such as are supposed to be of the severest kind; but, of all the nights of my life, not one can equal this. I fell on my knees, and attempted to pray, but imagined the ear of mercy shut, and that I beheld the wicked one stand ready to seize and fly away with me! My teeth began to gnash, as if by irresistible impulse; my hair stood on end, and large drops of sweat fell from my face! The eternal damnation, of which I had read and heard so much, seemed inevitable; till at last, in a torrent of phrenzy which I had not the power to controul, I began to blaspheme, believing myself to be already a fiend!

It is by such horrible imagery that so many of the disciples of methodism have become maniacs.

My dereliction of intellect fortunately was but of short duration: overpowered and exhausted, I at length sunk to sleep, my head leaning on the bed and I kneeling by its side. How long I remained thus I cannot tell, but I awoke in a shivering fit from a dream of terror, and found myself in the dark. I hastily undressed myself, got into bed, and shrunk beneath the bed clothes, as if escaping from Satan, whom imagination once more placed at my elbow, in forms inexpressibly horrid.

The visions of the night had left too deep an impression not to be in part revived in the morning. Thoughts however that had lately escaped me were now called to recollection. I remembered having once believed that God was the God of mercy; that for him to delight in the torture of lost souls was impossible; and that I had even doubted of the eternity of future torments. To this relief a more effectual one was added: Olivia could not be forgotten, and my thoughts, by being continually attracted and fixed on her, were relieved from despair, which might otherwise have been fatal.

A week passed away in such kind of convulsive meditations, my attachment to methodism daily declining, and at last changing into something like aversion and horror. At the end of this period, I was sent for in the morning by the president. The incident was alarming! I had broken no college rules, neglected no prayers, nor been guilty of any indecorum. I foreboded that he had heard of my methodistical excursion. The conjecture was true: he told me it was too publicly known to be passed over in silence; that the character of the university had greatly suffered by this kind of heresy; that the vice chancellor, proctors, and heads of houses had been consulted, and that the gentlest punishment they could inflict was rustication for two terms. It would have been much more severe, he said, but for the respect he bore to the memory of my grandfather; who had been a doctor of the university, a worthy pillar of the church, and his good friend.

Though I suspected my opinions, I was not so entirely convinced as openly to renounce them, and I remained silent when he required me to recant. But I requested him to tell me how the event had become public? Not a gownsman was present, except Hector Mowbray; and surely he was above the character of an informer? Especially, thought I, in this instance! The president however was silent; I was suffered to suppose what I pleased, and I left him with the sentence of rustication confirmed, and my long expected academical honours deferred. The only favour granted me was that the punishment should not be made public.



CHAPTER XVII

Disappointment: More marriage accidents: Preparations for a journey

The delay of two terms was by no means pleasing to me. I had nearly waited the stipulated time, had read wall lectures, and had done juraments, and generals. Aristotle had been laid upon my head, and I had been created a Soph. In fine, I had complied with all the forms of the university; forms which once perhaps might have had a meaning, but which are now offensively absurd. I expected the next term to have obtained the degree of bachelor of arts, after which it was my intention to have gone to London, there to have been ordained, and to have sought a flock wanting a pastor, on whom the stores of my theology and the powers of my elocution might have been well bestowed.

Traversed in this design, I determined to repair to the great city immediately, and return to keep my terms at Oxford when the period of rustication should have elapsed. But I had been obliged to furnish myself with books and music, and had found the hundred pounds a year allowed me scarcely sufficient; and, beside the charges of travelling and removal, I was informed that London was an expensive place. It was therefore necessary I should write to the country, for a supply. The correspondence with my mother, though not pursued with all the zeal in which it was begun, had been occasionally continued. At first her letters abounded with eulogiums on her husband, but the subject afterward began to cool with her, and she had lately forborne even to mention his name. In answer to the letters which I wrote, to inform her and lawyer Thornby of my plan and to request a supply, a part of the truth appeared. Her husband was a young man, who, coming sooner into the possession of money than of good sense, had squandered as much of it as he could wrest from his uncle, the lawyer, who affirmed the whole or nearly the whole was wasted; and, when he could obtain no more, had left her to depend on Thornby's bounty and had gone to London.

These disagreeable circumstances were in part communicated by my mother and in part by Thornby, who had written to tell me that, if a small advance were made, it must be deducted from the thousand pounds, bequeathed as before mentioned. To this I willingly agreed, and, giving him all the legal security he required, I received fifty pounds; after which I made the necessary preparations for my intended journey, and obtained letters of recommendation to a clergyman in London, and to the Bishop of—to whom, when I should have taken my bachelor's degree, I meant to apply for deacon's orders.

END OF VOLUME I



VOLUME II



CHAPTER I

Retrospect and character: Afore taste of futurity: Entrance to London, or where does it begin? All alive: A civil gentleman: Curiosity cooled

The period was now approaching in which I must fix on a profession for life. My choice, as I imagined, was made. There was no place so worthy of or so fit for the display of great talents as the pulpit. This opinion I supposed to be too well founded for any possible arguments to overturn, or even shake. I had heard much of theology from the rector, but more at Oxford. To promote this branch of knowledge the university was first established, and by it is still maintained; consequently it is there the chief object of pursuit, and topic of discourse. My hour of doubt was not yet arrived, and of the absolute pre-eminence of the clerical office I was a bold and resolute asserter.

Nor had my ambition been wholly bounded by the desire of fame: I was in expectation of my full share of those advantages which the world thinks more substantial; though this was but a subordinate consideration. Under all points of view, my constant source of hope was in the energy of my own mind. Among the numerous examples which I had seen, of men who had gained preferment, many by the sole influence of personal interest, and many more by the industry of intriguing vice, there were some who had attained that end by the exertion of extraordinary talents and virtue. It is true they were but few, very few; yet on them my attention had been constantly fixed. Them I was determined to emulate, exert the same powers, rise by the same means, and enjoy the same privileges. Every example of successful genius delighted, animated me, and fired my glowing imagination. The histories of great men even when persecuted and distressed, a Galileo, a Dryden, or an Otway, did but excite my admiration and my envy. Let me but equal them and I could willingly live with them in poverty and imprisonment, or die with them of misery, malady, and famine.

These were no transient feelings, but the daily emanations of desire. From my infancy, the lessons and incidents of my life had rendered me aspiring; and, however steep and rugged the rock might be described on which the temple of fame stood, I was determined to ascend and enter. I was possessed of that hilarity which, when not regulated by a strong desire to obtain some particular purpose, shews itself in a thousand extravagant forms, and is then called animal spirits; but, when thus turned to the attainment of one great end, assumes the more worthy appellation of activity of mind.

It must be acknowledged I was but little aware how much I had to learn, and unlearn, or of the opposition I should meet from my own prejudices, as well as from those of the world. But dangers never imagined are never feared, and my leading characteristic was the most sanguine hope. Were all the dangers of life to present themselves to the imagination in a body, drawn up in battle array, the prospect would indeed be dreadful; but coming individually they are less formidable, and successively as they occur are conquered. Foreboded, their aspect is terrific; but seen in retrospect, they frequently excite present satisfaction and future fortitude: and this is the way in which they have most frequently been seen by me.

Nor had my time been wholly consumed in gathering the sweets of literature. I had long been exercising myself in writing, improving my style, arranging my thoughts, and enabling myself to communicate the knowledge I might amass. Of sermons I had written some dozens; and the most arduous of the efforts of poetry had been attempted by me; from the elegy to the epic poem, each had suffered my attacks. And, though I myself was not so well satisfied with my performances as to complete these daring labours, yet, I had so far familiarised myself to a selection of words, and phrases, as to be able to compose with much more facility than is usual at such an age.

Possessed, as I was well persuaded, of no common portion of merit, it was a cheering thought that I was now going to bring it immediately to market; at least into view. London I understood to be the great emporium, where talents if exhibited would soon find their true value, and were in no danger of being long overlooked. To London, which was constantly pouring its novelties, its discoveries, and its effusions of genius over the kingdom, I was going.

I did not, as at Oxford, expect to find its inhabitants all saints. No: I had heard much of their vices. The subtle and ingenious arts, by which they trick and prey upon each other, had been pictured to me as highly dangerous; and of these arts, self confident as I was, I stood in some awe. But fore warned, said I, fore armed: and that I was not easily to be circumvented was still a part of my creed.

Such were my qualities, character and expectations, when I entered the carriage that conveyed me toward the great city. It was early in the month of February, the days were short, and evening came on as we reached Hounslow. Brentford I imagined to be London, and was disappointed to find myself again driven out of town. The lighted lamps and respectable buildings of Turnham Green made me conclude that to be the place, or at least the beginning, which Hammersmith did but confirm; and my surprise, at once more finding myself in a noble road, still lighted with lamps and with only here and there a house, was increased.

At Kensington to me London actually began, and I thought myself hurried nearly through it when the coach stopped at the Gloucester Coffee-house, in Piccadilly. I had already for miles been driven through streets, over stones, and never out of sight of houses, and was astonished to be told that I was now only as it were at the entrance of London.

The quantity of carriages we had passed, the incessant clattering of hoofs and rolling of wheels over the pavement, the general buzz around me, the hurry and animation of the people, and the universal illumination of streets, houses, and shops, excited ideas which were new, unexpected, and almost confounding! Imagination conjured up a mass that was all magnificence! The world till now had to me been sleeping; here only men were alive! At Oxford indeed, owing to circumstances, I had felt some similar emotions. But that was a transient scene that quickly declined into stillness and calm: here I was told it was everlastingly the same! The mind delighted to revel in this abundance: it seemed an infinitude, where satiety, its most fatal and hated enemy, could never come.

I had questions innumerable to ask, and made fifty attempts to get intelligence from the waiters, but in vain; they were too busy to attend to me, and treated my interrogatories with impertinent neglect. However, I was overflowing; talk I must, and I attacked various persons, that were coming and going in the coffee-room. Still I could get only short answers, and I wanted volumes.

Thus disappointed, I went and stood at the door, that I might divine as much as I could for myself: for though it was night, in London there is scarcely such a thing as darkness. While I was standing here, a gentleman of a more complaisant temper came up and fell into conversation with me, answered my inquiries, and informed me the king's palace was at no great distance. The king's palace was indeed a tempting object, and he good-naturedly offered to walk and shew it me. This very obliging proposal I readily accepted, and away we went.

As we were going down St. James's-street, as I imagine, the thought occurred 'If this gentleman now should be a sharper? He behaves with great civility; it is very improbable; but who knows? Let him! There is no trick he is master of shall prevail on me to part with the little money I have in my pocket: of that I am determined.'

Scarcely had the idea passed through my mind, before two men ran with such violence against me that they threw me flat on the pavement, and hurt me considerably. My companion and another immediately came to help me up; and the moment I was on my legs my friend and guide requested me to stay there half a minute; he would see that the watch should soon secure the rascals; and off he ran, full speed. The other kind gentleman followed his example.

All this happened in an instant; and, while I was standing in a kind of amazement, a passenger, who had seen the transaction at a distance, came up and asked me—'Are you much bruised, Sir?'—'Not very much.'—'Have you lost nothing?'—'Lost? [The question alarmed me] No: I believe not!'—'Search your pockets.'

Going to do as I was desired and putting my hands down, I found my breeches pockets were both turned inside out, and emptied of their contents. I stood speechless and motionless, while I was informed that it was a common-place trick for gangs of pickpockets to throw unwary passengers down with violence, pretend to pity and give them aid, pick their pockets while helping them up, and then decamp with all possible expedition. But said I, with great simplicity, to my informer, 'Will not the gentleman come back?'—'What! The man who ran off?'—'Yes.'—'Back! No, no: you will never see his face more, I promise you, Sir; unless you will take the trouble to visit Newgate, or attend the Old Bailey.'

There was no remedy! I stared for a moment, looked foolish, and returned toward the coffee-house; having taken care to mark the way I went. On repeating this story afterward, I learned further that to watch at inns and places where strangers arrive, and to play such tricks as may best succeed with them, is a very frequent practice with sharpers and pickpockets. My only consolation was the sum was small; for I had been cautioned not to travel with much money about me, lest we should meet robbers on the road; and the advice happened to be serviceable. That I had not my watch in my pocket was another lucky circumstance, or it would have disappeared. The fear of highwaymen had induced me to pack it up in my trunk. As for my handkerchief, it was gone, in the company of my purse.



CHAPTER II

A journey in town: Good breeding and morality: A new order of priests: A clerical character, or the art of pleasing: Episcopal influence: More gazing: A strange adventure, and the first sight of a play

As soon as I had breakfasted in the morning, my first care was to change my dress, powder my hair, put my watch in my pocket, inquire my way, and deliver my letters of recommendation. I thought it most prudent to apply first to the clergyman, and take his advice concerning the best manner of appearing before a bishop.

My letters, for I had two, were addressed to the reverend Enoch Ellis, Suffolk-Street, Middlesex Hospital. Which way I went I cannot now tell, but I had so many sights to see, shops to examine, and curiosities to admire, that, by the help of wandering perhaps a mile or much more out of my road, I was at least two hours before I came to my journey's end.

I knocked at the door, and was told by the servant that his master was not at home; but was asked if I had any message? I replied I had letters, which I wished to deliver into his own hand. The reverend Enoch, who as it appeared was listening through an aperture left purposely at the parlour door, put his head out, like a turtle from his shell, and desired the servant to shew the gentleman in; he would be with him in a moment. This was another phenomenon in morals! A clergyman suffer, nay encourage, or, as it must be, command, his servant to tell a lie? It was inconceivable! I knew nothing of fashionable manners, and that being denied to people whom you do not wish to see, instead of being thought insolent or false, was the general practice of the well bred. At that time I understood no single point of good breeding: I had it all to learn! But indeed, so dull am I on such topics, that, to this hour, how it can be a clergyman's or any honest man's duty or interest to teach servants to lie is to me incomprehensible. The difficulty, as I have found it, is to teach both them and all classes of people to tell the truth. What the morality of the practice is cannot be a serious question.

Before I proceed with that part of my story in which the reverend Enoch Ellis takes a share, it is necessary to remark that there has sprung up in modern times a clerical order of men, very distinct in manners and character from the subservient curate, or the lordly parish priest. Houses in London have lately been built much faster than churches. Yet, though the zeal of these times does not equal that of ancient days, when our cities were divided into numerous small parishes, when religion was the universal trade of mankind, and when the temples of superstition reared their proud heads in every alley, still men who know how to turn the penny have found it advantageous, even in these days of infidelity, to build here and there a chapel, and to let each of these chapels out to the best clerical bidder; who in his turn uses all his influence to allure the neighbourhood to hire, in retail, those bits and parcels, called pews, that, for the gratification of pride, are measured off within the consecrated walls which he has hired wholesale. In these undertakings, if the preacher cannot make himself popular, it is at least his interest to make himself pleasing.

Of one of these chapels Enoch Ellis was the farmer general; and this necessary endeavour to please had produced in him a remarkable contrast of character. He was a little man, with thin legs and thighs and a pot belly, but precisely upright: an archbishop could not carry himself more erect: his chest projecting; his neck stiff; his head thrown back; his eyes of the ferret kind, red, tender and much uncovered by the eyelid; his nose flat on the bridge, and at the end of the colour and form of a small round gingerbread nut, but with little nostril; his lips thin; his teeth half black half yellow; his ears large; his beard and whiskers sandy; his hair dark, but kept in buckle, and powdered as white as a miller's hat; his complexion sallow, and his countenance and general aspect jaundiced and mean.

With these requisites, there was a continual struggle, between his efforts to preserve his clerical solemnity and to make himself agreeable. His formal manner of pursing up his face into smiles, for this purpose, had produced a regular set of small wrinkles, folds, and plies, that inevitably reminded those who were not accustomed to him of the grinning of an ape; for he was so fearful of derogating from his dignity that it was impossible for his smile to take the form of meaning.

After waiting about ten minutes this reverend little gentleman, such as I have described, entered, assumed one of these agreeable solemn smiles, and bowed; but instantly recovered his full stature; as if he had been then measuring for a grenadier.

I delivered my letters: one was from the tutor, and the other from a regent master, who was one of the caput. He read them; and, as I was desirous to gain friends in a city of strangers, I anxiously watched his countenance; but I could not perceive that they produced any remarkably favourable effect. Not but he assumed all his civility; was vastly glad to hear his Oxford friends were in good health; should be exceedingly happy to do any thing, that lay in his power, to serve a gentleman of their recommendation. But the duties of his profession were very laborious: they could not be neglected. His calls were incessant: he had not a moment to himself. However, if I could point out any way—that is—he should be prodigiously happy—prodigiously indeed to give me any advice in his power.

I was by no means satisfied with the pauses, hems, and ha's with which he delivered these apologies. However, not knowing what better to do, I mentioned that I had letters to the Bishop of ——, and should be glad if he could tell me which was the properest hour and manner of gaining access to deliver them.

The mention of the bishop was electrical; it produced an immediate and miraculous change in the countenance of the reverend Enoch Ellis. The quantity of emphasis on his favourite epithet, prodigious, was wonderfully increased. He was prodigiously glad to find I was so well recommended! Was prodigiously happy to hear from his friends of ***** college! Should take prodigious satisfaction in serving a gentleman in whose behalf they had written! Nothing could give him such prodigious pleasure! And, that I might be under no difficulty, if I would permit him, he would first make the necessary inquiries, and then attend me in person, to pay my respects to the right reverend dignitary.

This relaxation in his manner flattered and pleased me. He now perceived me to be somebody; my half-offended vanity was appeased, and I accepted his offer with thanks.

To add to these obligations, finding that I was but just come to town, of which I was entirely ignorant, and that I wanted a lodging, he very obligingly told me his servant should inquire in the neighbourhood, and provide me one by the morrow. I endeavoured to make a suitable return to this prodigious increase of courtesy by a pedantical, but in my then opinion classical, quotation: Dii tibi,—&c. Virgil will tell the rest.

These civilities being all acted and over, I bowed and took my leave, appointing to call again the next morning; and he bowing in return, and waiting on me to the door: I much better pleased with my reception after the mention of the bishop than before; and he no less well satisfied.

I had now nothing to do for the rest of the day but indulge my curiosity, which made very large and imperious demands on all my senses. I walked from street to street, examined object after object, tasted the tarts of the pastry cooks, listened to the barrel organs, bells, tambours de basque, and cymbals of Savoyards, snuffed ten thousand various odours, gazed at the inviting splendour of shop windows innumerable, and with insatiable avidity gazed again! All the delights of novelty and surprise thrilled and tingled through my veins! It was a world of such inexhaustible abundance, wealth, and prosperity as to exceed the wildest of the dreams of fancy! Recollecting what my feelings then were, it seems almost surprizing that I can walk through the same tempting world of wonders, at present, scarcely conscious that such things have any existence.

The sole draw-back I felt to these delights was the fear of sharpers, and thieves; which, owing to my two unlucky adventures, of the lady with the riding-habit and the obliging gentleman who took me to see the king's palace, was so great that I never thought myself in safety.

Under these impressions, I happened in the afternoon to stray through Brydges-street, and saw a croud of people gathered round the play-house doors, who on inquiry I found were waiting to get in. The play bills were pasted in large letters, red and black, against the walls. I read them, and their contents told me it was one of my most favourite tragedies, Rowe's Fair Penitent, and that Mrs. Siddons was to act.

I had never yet seen a play in my life; for so licentious are the manners and behaviour of the youth of Oxford, that the vice chancellor dare not admit players into the city. This was an invitation to enjoyment not to be resisted. I blessed my lucky stars, that had led me by accident that way, and immediately took my stand among the people who surrounded the pit door, and pressed forward to better my situation as much as I could without ill manners.

Here I waited with the hope of pleasure exciting me to patience I know not how long, till the hour of opening the doors approached, about which time the croud was frequently put in motion. I observed that the people around me had several times appeared to be watchful of each other, and presently I heard a voice proclaim aloud—'Take care of your pockets!'

My fears suddenly came upon me! I put my hand down to my fob, and missed my watch! I eagerly looked round as well as I could, hemmed in as I was, and fixed my eyes on!—astonishment!—on my conductor to the palace! The blood mantled in my face. 'You have stolen my watch,' said I. He could not immediately escape, and made no reply, but turned pale, looked at me as if intreating silence and commiseration, and put a watch into my hand. I felt a momentary compassion and he presently made his retreat.

His retiring did but increase the press of the croud, so that it was impossible for me so much as to lift up my arm: I therefore continued, as the safest way, to hold the watch in my hand. Soon afterward the door opened, and I hurried it into my waistcoat pocket; for I was obliged to make the best use of all my limbs, that I might not be thrown down and trodden under foot.

At length, after very uncommon struggles, I made my way to the money door, paid, and entered the pit. After taking breath and gazing around me, I sat down and inquired of my neighbours how soon the play would begin? I was told in an hour. This new delay occasioned me to put my hand in my pocket and take out my watch, which as I supposed had been returned by the thief. But, good heavens! What was my surprize when, in lieu of my own plain watch, in a green chagrin case, the one I was now possessed of was set round with diamonds! And, instead of ordinary steel and brass, its appendages were a weighty gold chain and seals!

My astonishment was great beyond expression! I opened it to examine the work, and found it was capped. I pressed upon the nut and it immediately struck the hour: it was a repeater!

Its value could not but be very great; yet I was far from satisfied with the accident. It was no watch of mine; nor must I keep it, if the owner could be found; of which there could be no doubt; and my own was gone past all recovery.

I could not let it rest. I surveyed it again, inspected every part more minutely, and particularly examined the seals. My former amazement was now increased ten fold! They were the very same arms, the identical seals, of the watch on the sopha, that had betrayed the lovely creature in the blue riding habit to Hector Mowbray! The watch too was in every particular just such another; had a gold chain and was studded with diamonds! It must be the property of his lordship.

In vain did I rack invention to endeavour to account for so strange an incident: my conjectures were all unsatisfactory, all improbable. I looked round to see if I could discover his lordship in the house, but without success: the numbers were so great that the people were concealed behind each other. Beside it was long since I had seen his lordship: perhaps his person was changed, as his title had been, by the death of his father. He was now the Earl of Idford. My surmises concerning this uncommon accident kept my mind in continual activity, till the drawing up of the curtain; when they immediately ceded to ideas of a much more captivating and irresistible kind. The delight received by the youthful imagination, the first time of being present at the representation of a play, is not I suspect to be equalled by any other ever yet experienced, or invented. The propriety and richness of the dresses, the deception and variety of the scenery, the natural and energetic delivery of the actors, and the reality of every incidental circumstance were so great as to excite incessant rapture!

To describe the effects produced on me by Mrs. Siddons is wholly impossible. Her bridal apathy of despair contrasted with the tumultuous joy of her father, the mingled emotions of love for her seducer, disdain of his baseness, and abhorrence partly of her own guilt but still more of the tyranny and guilt of prejudice, and the majesty of mind with which she trampled on the world's scorn, defied danger, met death, and lamented little for herself, much for those she had injured, excited emotions in me the remembrance of which ages could not obliterate!

It may here be worthy of remark that the difference between the sensations I then had and those I should now have, were I present at the same exhibition, is in many particulars as great as can well be imagined. Not an iota of the whole performance, at that time, but seemed to me to be perfect; and I should have readily quarrelled with the man who should have happened to express disapprobation. The art of acting I had little considered, and was ignorant of its extent and degree of perfectibility. To read a play was no common pleasure, but to see one was ecstacy. Whereas at present, the knowledge of how much better characters might in general be performed occasions me, with the exception of some very few performers, infinitely to prefer the reading of a good play in the closet to its exhibition on the stage.

The curtain being dropped for the night, I stood for a while gazing at the multitude in motion, unwilling to quit the enchanted spot; but the house beginning to be empty and the lights put out, I thought it was time to retire.

That I might feel no interruption from having so valuable a deposit in my charge, for so I considered it to be, instead of putting the repeater in my fob, I had dropped it securely under my ham; being much rather willing to endure any slight disagreeable sensation it might there excite than run any farther risk.

The precaution as it happened was prudent. As I left the pit, I thought I saw the identical obliging guide and pick-pocket, who had returned me this watch in mistake, for it could be no other way, and, as I ascended the steps, two men who were standing at the door immediately advanced before me, and spread themselves out to prevent my passing; while a third came behind me, put his hand gently round my waist, and felt for the chain. My mind was so alive to dangers of this kind, just then, that I was immediately aware of the attempt, and pushing the men aside with my whole force I sprang up the steps, of which there were not more than half a dozen. I then faced about in the door way, not being acquainted with the passages, nor thinking it safe to run.

The moment I rushed by, one of them asked the other—'Have you nabbed it?' and was answered—'No. Go it!' Immediately one of them darted toward me, but I stood above him, was greatly his superior in size and strength, and easily knocked him down. A second made a similar attempt, and met a similar reception.

Hearing the scuffle, one of the house constables who happened to be standing at a little distance under the portico, and some of his assistants, came up; but, before they had time to be informed of the affair, the fellows had taken to their heels.

The constable uttered many exclamations against the rascals, and said, they had become so daring that nobody was safe. They had that very afternoon picked the pocket of the Earl of Idford of a repeater studded with diamonds, under the Piazza, as he was coming out of the Shakespeare, where he had been to attend an election meeting. By this I learned, in five words, what, before the play began, my brain had been ineffectually busied about for a full hour.

Being told that I was a stranger and did not know my road, the constable informed me it would be safest to go home in a coach. I took his advice: a coach was called, and I was once more conveyed to the Gloucester Coffee-house.



CHAPTER III

The advice of Enoch: Complaisance of a peer: A liberal offer and Enoch's sensibility, or the favour doubly returned

My health, appetite, and spirits suffered no check, from this tide of novelty and tumult of accident. I eat heartily, slept soundly, and rose chearfully. It is true, I came up to London with propensities which, from my education, that is, from the course of former events, would not suffer me to be idle; and in the space of a few hours I had already received several important lessons, that considerably increased my stock of knowledge.

Of these I did not fail to make an active use. They awakened attention, and I began to look about me with quickness and with caution. I had business enough for the day, and my first care was to keep my appointment with the reverend Enoch, whose counsel concerning the Earl of Idford and the repeater I once more thought it prudent to ask.

Thither I repaired, was readily admitted, and told him my story. It related to an Earl, and the ear of Enoch was attentively open. Having heard the whole, he made application immediately to the court calendar, to discover the Earl's town residence, and it was found to be in Bruton street. But how to gain admission? His lordship would not be at home, unless I were known? I replied that I had formerly been acquainted with his lordship, at the university. 'Ay but,' answered Enoch, 'is your face familiar to the servants?' 'No.'—'Then they will not let you in. The best way therefore will be to write a note to his lordship, informing him that you have particulars to communicate concerning his repeater. He will then appoint an hour, and you will certainly be admitted. I have enquired concerning my lord, the Bishop: you cannot see him at present, for he is in the country, but will return to town in less than a week, consequently you can wait on the Earl at any hour. It is a lucky event! A prodigiously fine opportunity for an introduction to a nobleman! Be advised by me, and profit by it, Mr. Trevor. If you please, I will attend you to his lordship. You are a young man, and to be accompanied by a clergyman has a respectable look, and gives a sanction. You conceive me, Mr. Trevor?'

I had acuteness enough to conceive the selfishness of his motives, which was more than he intended; but I acceded to the proposal, for I was almost as averse to giving as to receiving pain: beside I was a stranger, and he would be my conductor. The note to his lordship was accordingly written, a messenger dispatched with it, and while he was gone I again repeated the whole story of the watch, which in all its circumstances still appeared to me very surprising, and asked the reverend Enoch if he could account for them?

He replied that the Piazza, where the watch was stolen, was scarcely two hundred yards from the door at which the croud was assembled; that the thief probably thought this croud the best hiding place; that he could not remain idle, and therefore had been busy with the pockets of the people, and among the rest once again with mine; that his terror and confusion, lest he should be detected with a diamond repeater in his possession, might be much greater than usual; that, after having delivered it to me and discovered his mistake, he was very desirous to remedy the blunder, and therefore watched me into the pit; that, seeing me seated, he then went in search of his companions; and that what afterward followed was, first, their usual mode of stealing watches, and, when that failed, a more vigorous attempt to recover a prize of uncommon value.

These suppositions, which Enoch's acquaintance with the town and not the efforts of his imagination had suggested, made the history of the event tolerably probable, and I suppose were very like the truth.

The messenger quickly returned, with a note containing—'His lordship's compliments; he was then at home, and if I should happen to be at leisure would be very glad to see me immediately.'

I told you, said Enoch, that if you meant to play the sure game you must mention the repeater. My vanity would willingly have given another interpretation to his lordship's civility, and have considered it as personal to myself; but the philosophy of my vanity did not in this case appear to be quite so sound as that of the reverend Enoch, and I was mute.

Neither I nor Enoch were desirous of delay, and in a few minutes we were in Bruton street; where the doors opened to us as if the hinges had all been lately oiled. His lordship, who had acquired much more of the man of the world, that is, of bowing and smiling, than when I first saw him at Oxford, instantly knew me, received me and my friend graciously, and easily entered into conversation with us.

The first thing I did was to restore him his watch, and tell him the whole story, with the comments of the constable and of the reverend Enoch. He laughed as much as lords in general laugh, said it was a whimsical accident, and paid me a number of polite compliments and thanks; treated the watch as a trinket which, as he recollected, had not cost him more than three hundred guineas; but the bauble had been often admired, he was partial to it, and was very glad it was thus recovered.

To this succeeded the smiles and contortions of Enoch to make himself agreeable. His endeavours were very assiduous indeed, and to me very ridiculous; but his lordship seemed to receive his cringing and abject flattery as a thing rather of course, and expected, than displeasing or contemptible.

Among other conversation, his lordship did not fail to inquire if I were come to make any stay in town; and what my intentions and plan were? On being informed of these, he professed a great desire to serve me; and added that a thought had struck him, which perhaps might be agreeable to me. If so, it would give him great pleasure. He wished to have a friend, who during an hour of a morning might afford him conversation. Perhaps he might occasionally trouble him to commit a few thoughts to writing; but that might be as it happened. If I would come and reside in his house, and act in this friendly manner with him, he should be gratified and I not injured.

Enoch's open eyes twinkled with joy: sparkle they could not. He foresaw through my means, intercourse with a peer, and perhaps patronage! He was ready to answer for me, and could not restrain his tongue from protesting that it was a prodigiously liberal, friendly and honourable offer.

I had not forgotten his lordship's former jolly tutor, the terms on which they had lived, or the treatment to which this tutor had occasionally submitted. Yet I was not displeased with the proposal. I spurned at the idea of any such submission, but the character of his lordship seemed changed: and changed it certainly was, though I then knew not why, or to what. Nor was it supposed that I was to act as his menial. I therefore expressed my sense of his lordship's civility, and owned the situation would be acceptable to me, as I was not at present encumbered with riches, and living in London I found was likely to prove expensive. I had desired to have a genteel apartment, and Enoch had told me that one had been hired for me at a guinea and a half per week, at which I had been not a little startled. The secret of want of wealth a very cunning man would have concealed: a very wise man, though from other motives, would have told it with the same unaffected simplicity that I did.

Still the transports of Enoch, at his lordship's bounty, were inexhaustible. They put me to the blush: but whether it was at being unable to keep pace with him in owning this load of obligations, or at his impertinent acknowledgment of feelings for me of which I was unconscious, is more than I can tell. For his part, he did but speak on the behalf of his young friend. I had come well recommended to him, and he had already conceived a very singular affection for me. He had no doubt but that I should be prodigiously grateful to his lordship for all favours. His good advice should certainly never be wanting; and patrons like his lordship could not, by any possible efforts, be too humbly and dutifully served.

I did but feebly second this submissive sense of obligation, and these overflowing professions for favours not yet received. Luckily however he talked so fast, and was so anxious to recommend himself, that I had scarcely an opportunity to put in a word. He took all the trouble upon himself.

I ought to have mentioned that, before the proposal was made, his lordship had taken care to inquire if I understood the living languages? He spoke a few sentences in French to me himself, and attempted to do the same in Italian, but succeeded in the latter very indifferently. My answers satisfied him that I was no stranger to these studies.

The fact was, his lordship found it necessary to keep a secretary, to aid him in his politics not only to write but to think; and I afterward learned, from his valet, that he had allowed a hundred a year to one who had left his service that very day. His lordship was doubtless therefore well satisfied with the meeting of this morning, in which he not only recovered his diamond repeater but rewarded the youth who brought it, by suffering him to do the same business gratis for which he had before been obliged to pay.



CHAPTER IV

Memento of an old acquaintance: Gentility alarmed: The family of Enoch: Musical raptures and card-table good breeding

By the order of his lordship, two chairmen with a horse were dispatched for my effects; and possession was given me of the apartment occupied by my predecessor. In this apartment a trunk, which he had not removed, was left; and on it was a direction to Henry Turl. This excited my curiosity: I inquired of the valet, and from his description was confirmed in the conjecture, that my quondam school and college acquaintance, Turl, had been his lordship's late secretary.

Though at college I had considered his opinions as dangerous, yet every thing that I had heard of his behaviour challenged respect. I scarcely knew, at present, whether I wished to have any intercourse with him or not; but the high opinion I had of his understanding made me hope well of his morals, and wish him prosperity.

My good fortune was in danger of being immediately disturbed, by an incident which to me was very unexpected. Instead of being treated as the friend and companion of his lordship, when the dinner hour came an invitation was sent up to me by the housekeeper, from which I understood I was to dine at what is called the second table. At this time I had much pride and little philosophy, and a more effectual way to pique that pride could not have been found. I returned a civil answer, the purport of which was that I should dine out, and immediately wrote a short note to his lordship; informing him that 'I took it for granted his housekeeper had mistaken his intentions, and did not understand the terms on which I presumed I was to live in his lordship's house. His lordship had said he wished me to be his companion, and this distinction would certainly make me unfit to be the companion of his housekeeper.'

The discharging my conscience of thus much vanity gave me immediate relief, and was productive of the effect intended. His lordship took the hint my spirited letter gave, and feigned ignorance of his housekeeper's proceeding. My appearance, person, and understanding he thought would not disgrace his table, at which consequently I was afterward permitted to take my seat.

In the evening, I went by appointment to visit at the house of the reverend Enoch; when I was introduced by him to his wife and daughter, as a very accomplished young gentleman, an under-graduate of Oxford, intended for the church, of prodigious connexions, recommended to a bishop, patronized by an earl, and his very particular good friend.

I bowed and the ladies curtsied. Mrs. Ellis too had studied the art of making herself agreeable, but in a very different way from Enoch. Her mode was by engaging in what are called parties, learning the private history of all her acquaintance, and retailing it in such a manner as might best gratify the humours, prejudices, and passions of her hearers. She had some shrewdness, much cunning, and made great pretensions to musical and theatrical taste, and the belles lettres. She spoke both French and Italian; ill enough, but sufficiently to excite the admiration of those who understood neither. She had lately persuaded Enoch to make a trip with the whole family to Paris, and she returned with a very ample cargo of information; all very much at the disposal of her inquisitive friends.

Her daughter, Eliza, was mamma's own child. She had an immense deal of taste, no small share of vanity, and a tongue that could not tire. She had caught the mingled cant of Enoch and her mamma, repeated the names of public people and public places much oftener than her prayers, and was ready to own, with no little self complacency, that all her acquaintance told her she was prodigious severe.

In addition to these shining qualities, she was a musical amateur of the first note. She could make the jacks of her harpsichord dance so fast that no understanding ear could keep pace with them: and her master, Signor Gridarini, affirmed every time he came to give her a lesson, that, among all the dilettanti in Europe, there was not so great a singer as herself. The most famous of the public performers scarcely could equal her. In the bravura she astonished! in the cantabile she charmed; her maestoso was inimitable! and her adagios! Oh! they were ravishing! killing. She indeed openly accused him of flattering her; but Signor Gridarini appealed both to his honour and his friends; the best judges in Europe, who as she well knew all said the same.

Of personal beauty she herself was satisfied that the Gods had kindly granted her a full share. 'Tis true, her stature was dwarfish: but then, she had so genteel an air! Her staymaker was one of the ablest in town. Her complexion could not but be to her mind, for it was of her own making. The only thing that she could not correct to her perfect satisfaction was a something of a cast with her eyes; which especially when she imitated Enoch in making herself agreeable, was very like squinting. Not but that the thought squinting itself a pleasing kind of blemish. Nay there were instances in which she scarcely knew if it could be called a blemish.

By these two ladies I was received with no little distinction. The mother recollected the earl and the bishop; the daughter surveyed my person, with which she was almost as well satisfied as with her own. I heard her tell her female acquaintance, during the evening, that she thought me immense well bred; and that in her opinion I was prodigious handsome; and, when they smiled, she added that she spoke with perfect song fro, and merely as a person of some critical taste.

I could indeed have corrected her English grammar, and her French pronunciation; but I was not at this time so fastidious; as to accuse her of any mistake in judgment, in the opinion she gave of me.

My musical talents gained me additional favour. Miss Eliza was quite in raptures to hear that I could accompany her in a concerto; or take a part in an Italian duet. She vowed and protested again, to her friends, that I was a most accomplished, charming man! She spoke aside, but I was rather remarkably quick of hearing that evening. She proposed a lesson of Kozeluch's immediately. I should play the violin accompaniment, and her papa as it was very easy would take the bass.

All voices, for there was a prodigious large party by this time, were loud in their assent. Every body was sure, before any body heard, it would be monstrous fine; so there was no refusing. The fiddles were tuned, the books were placed, the candles were snuffed, the chord was struck, and off we went, Allegro con strepito!

We obeyed the composer's commands, and played with might and main during the first thirty or forty bars, till the obligato part came, in which Miss was to exhibit her powers. She then, with all the dignity of a maestro di capella directed two intersecting rays full at Enoch, and called aloud, piano! After which casting a gracious smile to me, as much as to say I did not mean you, Sir; she heaved up an attitude with her elbows, gave a short cough to encourage herself, and proceeded.

Her fears give her no embarrassment, thought I, and all will be well. I could not have been more mistaken. The very first difficult passage she came to shewed me she was an ignorant pretender. Time, tune, and recollection were all lost. I was obliged to be silent in the accompaniment, for I knew as little what was become of her as she herself did. Enoch knew no more than either of us, but he kept strumming on. He was used to it, and his ears were not easily offended.

She certainly intended to have been very positive, but was at last obliged to come to a full stop; and, again casting an indignant squint at her father, she exclaimed 'Lord, Sir! I declare, there is no keeping with you!' 'No: nor with you neither!' said Enoch. 'Will you have the goodness to begin again, Mr. Trevor?' continued she. I saw no remedy: she was commander in chief, and I obeyed.

We might have begun again and again to eternity, had we stopped every time she failed: but as I partly perceived my silence in the accompaniment, instead of continuing to make a discordant noise with Enoch and herself, had chiefly disconcerted her, I determined to rattle away. My ears were never more completely flayed! But what could be done? Miss panted for fame, and the company wanted music!

We had the good luck to find one another out at the last bar, and gave a loud stroke to conclude with; which was followed by still louder applause. It was vastly fine! excessive charming! Miss was a ravishing performer, and every soul in the room was distractingly fond of music! 'There!' said Enoch, taking off his spectacles. 'There, ladies! Now you hear things done as they should be!'

Not satisfied with this specimen, we must next sing an Italian trio; for Enoch, like Miss, could sing as well as he could play. But it was the old story over again: 'things done as they should be.'

The company by this time were pretty well satisfied; though their praise continued to be extravagant. Miss however would fain have treated them with a little more; and, when she found me obstinate in my negative, she, with a half reprimanding half applauding tap with her fan, for we were by this time very familiar acquaintance, told me that great performers were always tired sooner than their auditors!

While Miss had been thus busied, her mamma had not been idle. She and her friends, who were so fond of music, had frequently in full gabble joined the con strepito chorus, and quite completed that kind of harmony in which our concert excelled. Add to which there was the rattling of the card tables, placed ready by her order during the music; for she was too good an economist to lose time. But she professed to have a delicate ear. Enoch had taught her to know when things were done as they should be.

The concert being ended and the cards ready, I was invited to draw for partners. One elderly lady was particularly pressing. I excused myself, and Miss said pouting to her mamma, but looking traverse at the elderly lady, 'Law mamma, you are so teazing! We have made up a little conversazione party of our own, and you want to spoil it by taking Mr. Trevor from us! I declare,' continued she, turning her back on the card tables and lowering her voice, 'that old Tabby is never contented but when she is at her honours and her tricks! But let her alone! She never goes away a loser! She has more tricks than honours!'

I presume it was not the first time that she had said this good thing; at least it was not the last, for I heard it every time afterward that the parties met on a like occasion. The old lady however contrived before they broke up to weary me into compliance. I played a single rubber, lost a guinea, and was asked for my half crown to put under the candlestick. I say, asked; for I have before observed that I came up to London ignorant of every point of good breeding. I could not have surmised that the six packs of half dirty cards were to be subscribed for by the company at half a crown a head.



CHAPTER V

Politics and patriotism of a lord: A grand undertaking: Sublime effusions, or who but I: Politics and taste of Enoch: The honey changed to gall, or rules for fine writers

The next day about noon, his lordship sent his compliments, informing me he should be glad of my company. I hastened to him, eager to have an opportunity privately to display, before a lord, my knowledge, wit, and understanding.

After a short introductory dialogue, his lordship turned the conversation on politics, and it so happened that, though my ideas on this subject were but feeble and ill arranged, yet it had not wholly escaped my attention. While I was at Oxford, the want of a parliamentary reform had agitated the whole nation, and was too real and glaring an evil not to be convincing to a young and unprejudiced mind. The extension of the excise laws had likewise produced in me strong feelings of anger; and the enormous and accumulating national debt had been described to me as a source of imminent, absolute, and approaching ruin.

These and similar ideas though all more or less crude I detailed, and concluded my creed with asserting my conviction that government used corrupt and immoral means, and that these were destructive of the end which it meant to obtain.

His lordship was quite in raptures to hear me; and declared he could not have expected such sound doctrine, from so young a man. 'Yes, Mr. Trevor,' continued he, 'government is indeed corrupt! It has opposed me in three elections; one for a county, the others for two popular boroughs. The opposition has cost me fifty thousand pounds, and I lost them all. Time was when the minister might have made me his friend; but I am now his irreconcilable enemy, and I will hang upon his skirts and never quit him, no, not for a moment, till he is turned out of office with disgrace. He ought not to have angered me, for I and my friends kept aloof: he knew I did, and he might—But now I have openly joined the opposition, and nothing less than his ruin shall satisfy me! I am exceedingly happy, Mr. Trevor, to find you reason so justly on these subjects; and to say the truth I shall be very glad of your assistance.'

I answered his lordship that I should be equally glad, if I could contribute to the good government and improvement of mankind by correcting their present errors; and that the vices I had mentioned, and every other vice that I could discover, I should always think it my duty to oppose.

'That,' answered his lordship, 'is right, Mr. Trevor! You speak my own sentiments! Opposition, strong severe and bitter, is what I am determined on! Your principles and mine are the same, and I am resolved he shall repent of having made me his enemy! We will communicate our thoughts to each other, and as you are a young man whose talents were greatly esteemed at —— college, and who know how to place arguments in a striking form, I have no doubt of our success. I will make him shake in his seat!'

His lordship then drew a whole length picture first of his own griefs, and next of the present state of representation, and the known dependence and profligacy of the minister's adherents, which highly excited my indignation. My heart exulted in the correction which I was determined to bestow on them all; and I made not the least doubt but that I should soon be able to write down the minister, load his partizans with contempt, and banish such flagitious proceedings from the face of the earth.

With these all sufficient ideas of myself, and many professions of esteem and friendship from the earl, I retired to begin a series of letters, that were to rout the minister, reform the world, and convey my fame to the latest posterity. I had already perused Junius as a model of style, had been enraptured with his masculine ardor, and had no doubt but that the hour was now come in which he was to be rivaled.

I could not disguise from myself that the motives of his lordship were not of the purest kind: but I had formed no expectations in favour of his morals; and, if the end at which he aimed was a good one, his previous mistakes must be pardoned. He had engaged me in a delightful task, had given me an opportunity of exerting my genius and of publishing my thoughts to the world, and I sat down to my labours with transport and zeal.

So copious was my elocution that in less than four hours I had filled eight pages of paper; two of which at least were Greek and Latin quotations, from Aristotle, Demosthenes, and Cicero. I meant to astonish mankind with my erudition! All shall acknowledge, said I, that a writer of wit, energy, and genius is at last sprung up; one who is profoundly skilled too in classical learning. My whole soul was bent on saying strong things, fine things, learned things, pretty things, good things, wise things, and severe things. Never was there more florid railing. My argument was a kind of pitiful Jonas, and my words were the whale in which it was swallowed up.

I was quite enamoured of my performance, and was impatient for twelve o'clock the next day, that his lordship might admire it! In the mean time, to allay my insatiable thirst of praise, I took it to upright Enoch. When the reverend little man heard that I was employed by his lordship to write on affairs of government, he declared it as a thing decided that my fortune was made: but he dropped his under lip when told that I had attacked the minister—Was prodigiously sorry!—That was the wrong side—Ministers paid well for being praised; but they gave nothing, except fine, imprisonment, and pillory, for blame.

I heard him with contempt, but was too eager in my thirst of approbation to make any reply, except by urging him to read. He put on his spectacles and began, but blundered so wretchedly that I was soon out of patience; and taking the paper from him began to read myself.

No one will doubt but that he was the first to be tired. However, he said it was fine; and was quite surprised to hear me read Greek with such sonorous volubility. For his part it was long since he had read such authors: to which I sarcastically yielded my ready assent. He had partly forgotten them, he said. Indeed! answered I. My tone signified he never knew them—'but you think the composition good do you not?'—'Oh, it is fine! Prodigiously fine!'

Fine was the word, and with fine I was obliged to be satisfied. As for prodigious, it sometimes had meaning and sometimes none: it depended on emphasis and action. I knew indeed that he was no great orator; otherwise I should have expected an eulogium that might have rivaled the French academy, the odes of Boileau, or even my own composition.

I was still hungry: my vanity wanted more food, much more, though I knew not where to seek it. To write down a minister was such a task, and I had begun it in so sublime a style, that rest I could not: though it was with great difficulty, having done with Enoch, that I could escape from Miss and her mamma.

They were dressed to go to a party, and they insisted that I should go with them. It would give their friends such monstrous pleasure, and they should all be so immense happy, that go I must. But their rhetoric was vain. I was upon thorns; there were no hopes that the party would listen to my manuscript; and as I could not read it to others, I must go home and read it to myself.

As I was going, Miss followed me to the door, called up one of her significant traverse glances, and told me she was sure I was a prodigious rake! But no wonder! All the fine men were rakes!

I returned to my chamber, read again and again, added new flowers, remembered new quotations, and inserted new satire. Enoch had told me it was fine, yet I never could think it was fine enough.

Night came, but with it little inclination in me to sleep: and in the morning I was up and at work, reading, correcting and embellishing my letter before I could well distinguish a word. About nine o'clock, while I was rehearsing aloud in the very heat of oratory, two chairmen knocked at my door and interrupted my revery: they were come to take away the trunk of Turl. The thought struck me and I immediately inquired—'Is the gentleman himself here?' I was answered in the affirmative, and I requested one of the men to go and inform him that an old acquaintance was above, who would be very glad to speak a word with him.

Mr. Turl came, was surprised to see me, and as I received him kindly answered me in the same tone. At college he had acquired the reputation of a scholar, a good critic, and a man of strong powers of mind. The discovery of a diamond mine would not have given me so much pleasure, as the meeting him at this lucky moment! He was the very person I wanted. He was a judge, and I should have praise as much as I could demand! The beauties of my composition would all be as visible to him as they were to myself. They were too numerous, too strong, too striking to escape his notice; they would flash upon him at every line, would create astonishment, inspire rapture, and hold him in one continual state of acclamation and extacy!

I requested him to sit down, apologized, told him I had a favour to ask, took up my manuscript, smiled, put it in his hand, stroked my chin, and begged him to read and tell me its faults. I had a perfect dependence on his good taste, and nobody could be more desirous of hearing the truth and correcting their errors than I was! Nobody!

I was surprised to observe that he felt some reluctance, and attempted to excuse himself: but I was too importunate, and the devil of vanity was too strong in me, to be resisted. I pleaded, with great eloquence and much more truth than I myself suspected, how necessary it was in order to attain excellence that men should communicate with each other, should boldly declare their opinions, and patiently listen to reproof.

Thus urged by arguments which he knew to be excellent, and hoping from my zeal that I knew the same, he complied, took out his pencil, and began his task.

He went patiently through it, without any apparent emotion or delay, except frequently to make crosses with his pencil. Never was mortal more amazed than I was at his incomprehensible coldness! 'Has he no feeling?' said I. 'Is he dead? No token of admiration! no laughter! no single pause of rapture!' It was astonishing beyond all belief!

Having ended, he put down the manuscript, and said not a word!

This was a mortification not to be supported. Speak he must. I endured his silence perhaps half a minute, perhaps a whole one, but it was an age! 'I am afraid, Mr. Turl,' said I, 'you are not very well pleased with what you have read?'

The tone of my voice, the paleness of my lips, and the struggling confusion of my eyes sufficiently declared my state of mind, and he made no answer. My irritability increased. 'What, Sir,' said I, 'is it so contemptible a composition as to be wholly unworthy your notice?'

I communicated much of the torture which I felt, but collecting himself he looked at me with some compassion and much stedfastness, and answered—'I most sincerely wish, Mr. Trevor, that what I have to say, since you require me to speak, were exactly that which you expected I should say. I confess, it gives me some pain to perceive that you mistook your own motives, when you desired me to read and mark what I might think to be faults. You imagined there were no faults! forgetting that no human effort is without them. The longer you write the less you will be liable to the error of that supposition.'—'Perhaps, Sir, you discover nothing but faults?'—'Far the contrary: I have discovered the first great quality of genius.'

This was a drop of reviving cordial, and I eagerly asked—'What is that?'—'Energy. But, like the courage of Don Quixote, it is ill directed; it runs a tilt at sheep and calls them giants.' 'Go on, Sir,' said I: 'continue your allegory.'—'Its beauties are courtezans, its enchanted castles pitiful hovels, and its Mambrino's helmet is no better than a barber's bason.' 'But pray, Sir, be candid, and point out all its defects!—All!'—'I am sorry to observe, Mr. Trevor, that my candour has already been offensive to your feelings. If we would improve our faculties, we must not seek unmerited praise, but resolutely listen to truth.'—'Why, Sir, should you suppose I seek unmerited praise.'

He made no reply, and I repeated my requisition, that he should point out all the defects of my manuscript: once more, all, all! 'The defects, Mr. Trevor,' said he, 'are many of them such as are common to young writers; but some of them are peculiar to writers whose imagination is strong, and whose judgment is unformed. Paradoxical as it may seem, it is a disadvantage to your composition that you have the right side of the question. Diffuse and unconnected arguments, a style loaded with epithets and laborious attempts in the writer to display himself, are blemishes that give less offence when employed to defend error than when accumulated in the cause of truth, which is forgotten and lost under a profusion of ornaments. The difficulties of composition resemble those of geometry: they are the recollection of things so simple and convincing that we imagine we never can forget them; yet they are frequently forgotten at every step, and in every sentence. There is one best and clearest way of stating a proposition, and that alone ought to be chosen: yet how often do we find the same argument repeated and repeated and repeated, with no variety except in the phraseology? In developing any thought, we ought not to encumber it by trivial circumstances: we ought to say all that is necessary, and not a word more. We ought likewise to say one thing at once; and that concluded to begin another. We certainly write to be understood, and should therefore never write in a language that is unknown to a majority of our readers. The rule will apply as well to the living languages as to the dead, and its infringement is but in general a display of the author's vanity. Epithets, unless they increase the strength of thought or elucidate the argument, ought not to be admitted. Of similes, metaphors, and figures of every kind the same may be affirmed: whatever does not enlighten confuses. There are two extremes, against which we ought equally to guard: not to give a dry skeleton, bones without flesh; nor an imbecile embryo, flesh without bones.'