The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. Abraham Abrams/Book III, Chapter III

CHAPTER III.

_In which the gentleman relates the history of his life._

Sir, I am descended of a good family, and was born a gentleman. My

education was liberal, and at a public school, in which I proceeded so

far as to become master of the Latin, and to be tolerably versed in the

Greek language. My father died when I was sixteen, and left me master of

myself. He bequeathed me a moderate fortune, which he intended I should

not receive till I attained the age of twenty-five: for he constantly

asserted that was full early enough to give up any man entirely to the

guidance of his own discretion. However, as this intention was so

obscurely worded in his will that the lawyers advised me to contest the

point with my trustees, I own I paid so little regard to the

inclinations of my dead father, which were sufficiently certain to me,

that I followed their advice, and soon succeeded, for the trustees did

not contest the matter very obstinately on their side. "Sir," said

Adams, "may I crave the favour of your name?" The gentleman answered his

name was Wilson, and then proceeded.

I stayed a very little while at school after his death; for, being a

forward youth, I was extremely impatient to be in the world, for which I

thought my parts, knowledge, and manhood thoroughly qualified me. And to

this early introduction into life, without a guide, I impute all my

future misfortunes; for, besides the obvious mischiefs which attend

this, there is one which hath not been so generally observed: the first

impression which mankind receives of you will be very difficult to

eradicate. How unhappy, therefore, must it be to fix your character in

life, before you can possibly know its value, or weigh the consequences

of those actions which are to establish your future reputation!

A little under seventeen I left my school, and went to London with no

more than six pounds in my pocket; a great sum, as I then conceived; and

which I was afterwards surprized to find so soon consumed.

The character I was ambitious of attaining was that of a fine gentleman;

the first requisites to which I apprehended were to be supplied by a

taylor, a periwig-maker, and some few more tradesmen, who deal in

furnishing out the human body. Notwithstanding the lowness of my purse,

I found credit with them more easily than I expected, and was soon

equipped to my wish. This I own then agreeably surprized me; but I have

since learned that it is a maxim among many tradesmen at the polite end

of the town to deal as largely as they can, reckon as high as they can,

and arrest as soon as they can.

The next qualifications, namely, dancing, fencing, riding the great

horse, and music, came into my head: but, as they required expense and

time, I comforted myself, with regard to dancing, that I had learned a

little in my youth, and could walk a minuet genteelly enough; as to

fencing, I thought my good-humour would preserve me from the danger of a

quarrel; as to the horse, I hoped it would not be thought of; and for

music, I imagined I could easily acquire the reputation of it; for I had

heard some of my schoolfellows pretend to knowledge in operas, without

being able to sing or play on the fiddle.

Knowledge of the town seemed another ingredient; this I thought I should

arrive at by frequenting public places. Accordingly I paid constant

attendance to them all; by which means I was soon master of the

fashionable phrases, learned to cry up the fashionable diversions, and

knew the names and faces of the most fashionable men and women.

Nothing now seemed to remain but an intrigue, which I was resolved to

have immediately; I mean the reputation of it; and indeed I was so

successful, that in a very short time I had half-a-dozen with the finest

women in town.

At these words Adams fetched a deep groan, and then, blessing himself,

cried out, "Good Lord! what wicked times these are!"

Not so wicked as you imagine, continued the gentleman; for I assure you

they were all vestal virgins for anything which I knew to the contrary.

The reputation of intriguing with them was all I sought, and was what I

arrived at: and perhaps I only flattered myself even in that; for very

probably the persons to whom I showed their billets knew as well as I

that they were counterfeits, and that I had written them to myself.

"Write letters to yourself!" said Adams, staring. O sir, answered the

gentleman, it is the very error of the times. Half our modern plays have

one of these characters in them. It is incredible the pains I have

taken, and the absurd methods I employed, to traduce the character of

women of distinction. When another had spoken in raptures of any one, I

have answered, "D--n her, she! We shall have her at H----d's very soon."

When he hath replied, "He thought her virtuous," I have answered, "Ay,

thou wilt always think a woman virtuous, till she is in the streets; but

you and I, Jack or Tom (turning to another in company), know better." At

which I have drawn a paper out of my pocket, perhaps a taylor's bill,

and kissed it, crying at the same time, "By Gad I was once fond of her."

"Proceed, if you please, but do not swear any more," said Adams.

Sir, said the gentleman, I ask your pardon. Well, sir, in this course of

life I continued full three years.--"What course of life?" answered

Adams; "I do not remember you have mentioned any."--Your remark is just,

said the gentleman, smiling; I should rather have said, in this course

of doing nothing. I remember some time afterwards I wrote the journal of

one day, which would serve, I believe, as well for any other during the

whole time. I will endeavour to repeat it to you.

In the morning I arose, took my great stick, and walked out in my green

frock, with my hair in papers (a groan from Adams), and sauntered about

till ten. Went to the auction; told lady ---- she had a dirty face;

laughed heartily at something captain ---- said, I can't remember what,

for I did not very well hear it; whispered lord ----; bowed to the duke

of ----; and was going to bid for a snuff-box, but did not, for fear I

should have had it.

   From  2 to 4, drest myself.  _A groan._

         4 to 6, dined.         _A groan._

         6 to 8, coffee-house.

         8 to 9, Drury-lane playhouse.

         9 to 10, Lincoln's Inn Fields.

        10 to 12, Drawing-room. _A great groan._

At all which places nothing happened worth remark.

At which Adams said, with some vehemence, "Sir, this is below the life

of an animal, hardly above vegetation: and I am surprized what could

lead a man of your sense into it." What leads us into more follies than

you imagine, doctor, answered the gentleman--vanity; for as contemptible

a creature as I was, and I assure you, yourself cannot have more

contempt for such a wretch than I now have, I then admired myself, and

should have despised a person of your present appearance (you will

pardon me), with all your learning and those excellent qualities which I

have remarked in you. Adams bowed, and begged him to proceed. After I

had continued two years in this course of life, said the gentleman, an

accident happened which obliged me to change the scene. As I was one day

at St James's coffee-house, making very free with the character of a

young lady of quality, an officer of the guards, who was present,

thought proper to give me the lye. I answered I might possibly be

mistaken, but I intended to tell no more than the truth. To which he

made no reply but by a scornful sneer. After this I observed a strange

coldness in all my acquaintance; none of them spoke to me first, and

very few returned me even the civility of a bow. The company I used to

dine with left me out, and within a week I found myself in as much

solitude at St James's as if I had been in a desart. An honest elderly

man, with a great hat and long sword, at last told me he had a

compassion for my youth, and therefore advised me to show the world I

was not such a rascal as they thought me to be. I did not at first

understand him; but he explained himself, and ended with telling me, if

I would write a challenge to the captain, he would, out of pure charity,

go to him with it. "A very charitable person, truly!" cried Adams. I

desired till the next day, continued the gentleman, to consider on it,

and, retiring to my lodgings, I weighed the consequences on both sides

as fairly as I could. On the one, I saw the risk of this alternative,

either losing my own life, or having on my hands the blood of a man with

whom I was not in the least angry. I soon determined that the good which

appeared on the other was not worth this hazard. I therefore resolved to

quit the scene, and presently retired to the Temple, where I took

chambers. Here I soon got a fresh set of acquaintance, who knew nothing

of what had happened to me. Indeed, they were not greatly to my

approbation; for the beaus of the Temple are only the shadows of the

others. They are the affectation of affectation. The vanity of these is

still more ridiculous, if possible, than of the others. Here I met with

smart fellows who drank with lords they did not know, and intrigued with

women they never saw. Covent Garden was now the farthest stretch of my

ambition; where I shone forth in the balconies at the playhouses,

visited whores, made love to orange-wenches, and damned plays. This

career was soon put a stop to by my surgeon, who convinced me of the

necessity of confining myself to my room for a month. At the end of

which, having had leisure to reflect, I resolved to quit all farther

conversation with beaus and smarts of every kind, and to avoid, if

possible, any occasion of returning to this place of confinement. "I

think," said Adams, "the advice of a month's retirement and reflection

was very proper; but I should rather have expected it from a divine than

a surgeon." The gentleman smiled at Adams's simplicity, and, without

explaining himself farther on such an odious subject, went on thus: I

was no sooner perfectly restored to health than I found my passion for

women, which I was afraid to satisfy as I had done, made me very uneasy;

I determined, therefore, to keep a mistress. Nor was I long before I

fixed my choice on a young woman, who had before been kept by two

gentlemen, and to whom I was recommended by a celebrated bawd. I took

her home to my chambers, and made her a settlement during cohabitation.

This would, perhaps, have been very ill paid: however, she did not

suffer me to be perplexed on that account; for, before quarter-day, I

found her at my chambers in too familiar conversation with a young

fellow who was drest like an officer, but was indeed a city apprentice.

Instead of excusing her inconstancy, she rapped out half-a-dozen oaths,

and, snapping her fingers at me, swore she scorned to confine herself to

the best man in England. Upon this we parted, and the same bawd

presently provided her another keeper. I was not so much concerned at

our separation as I found, within a day or two, I had reason to be for

our meeting; for I was obliged to pay a second visit to my surgeon. I

was now forced to do penance for some weeks, during which time I

contracted an acquaintance with a beautiful young girl, the daughter of

a gentleman who, after having been forty years in the army, and in all

the campaigns under the Duke of Marlborough, died a lieutenant on

half-pay, and had left a widow, with this only child, in very distrest

circumstances: they had only a small pension from the government, with

what little the daughter could add to it by her work, for she had great

excellence at her needle. This girl was, at my first acquaintance with

her, solicited in marriage by a young fellow in good circumstances. He

was apprentice to a linendraper, and had a little fortune, sufficient to

set up his trade. The mother was greatly pleased with this match, as

indeed she had sufficient reason. However, I soon prevented it. I

represented him in so low a light to his mistress, and made so good an

use of flattery, promises, and presents, that, not to dwell longer on

this subject than is necessary, I prevailed with the poor girl, and

conveyed her away from her mother! In a word, I debauched her.--(At

which words Adams started up, fetched three strides across the room, and

then replaced himself in his chair.) You are not more affected with this

part of my story than myself; I assure you it will never be sufficiently

repented of in my own opinion: but, if you already detest it, how much

more will your indignation be raised when you hear the fatal

consequences of this barbarous, this villanous action! If you please,

therefore, I will here desist.--"By no means," cries Adams; "go on, I

beseech you; and Heaven grant you may sincerely repent of this and many

other things you have related!"--I was now, continued the gentleman, as

happy as the possession of a fine young creature, who had a good

education, and was endued with many agreeable qualities, could make me.

We lived some months with vast fondness together, without any company or

conversation, more than we found in one another: but this could not

continue always; and, though I still preserved great affection for her,

I began more and more to want the relief of other company, and

consequently to leave her by degrees--at last whole days to herself. She

failed not to testify some uneasiness on these occasions, and complained

of the melancholy life she led; to remedy which, I introduced her into

the acquaintance of some other kept mistresses, with whom she used to

play at cards, and frequent plays and other diversions. She had not

lived long in this intimacy before I perceived a visible alteration in

her behaviour; all her modesty and innocence vanished by degrees, till

her mind became thoroughly tainted. She affected the company of rakes,

gave herself all manner of airs, was never easy but abroad, or when she

had a party at my chambers. She was rapacious of money, extravagant to

excess, loose in her conversation; and, if ever I demurred to any of her

demands, oaths, tears, and fits were the immediate consequences. As the

first raptures of fondness were long since over, this behaviour soon

estranged my affections from her; I began to reflect with pleasure that

she was not my wife, and to conceive an intention of parting with her;

of which, having given her a hint, she took care to prevent me the pains

of turning her out of doors, and accordingly departed herself, having

first broken open my escrutore, and taken with her all she could find,

to the amount of about L200. In the first heat of my resentment I

resolved to pursue her with all the vengeance of the law: but, as she

had the good luck to escape me during that ferment, my passion

afterwards cooled; and, having reflected that I had been the first

aggressor, and had done her an injury for which I could make her no

reparation, by robbing her of the innocence of her mind; and hearing at

the same time that the poor old woman her mother had broke her heart on

her daughter's elopement from her, I, concluding myself her murderer

("As you very well might," cries Adams, with a groan), was pleased that

God Almighty had taken this method of punishing me, and resolved quietly

to submit to the loss. Indeed, I could wish I had never heard more of

the poor creature, who became in the end an abandoned profligate; and,

after being some years a common prostitute, at last ended her miserable

life in Newgate.--Here the gentleman fetched a deep sigh, which Mr Adams

echoed very loudly; and both continued silent, looking on each other for

some minutes. At last the gentleman proceeded thus: I had been perfectly

constant to this girl during the whole time I kept her: but she had

scarce departed before I discovered more marks of her infidelity to me

than the loss of my money. In short, I was forced to make a third visit

to my surgeon, out of whose hands I did not get a hasty discharge.

I now forswore all future dealings with the sex, complained loudly that

the pleasure did not compensate the pain, and railed at the beautiful

creatures in as gross language as Juvenal himself formerly reviled them

in. I looked on all the town harlots with a detestation not easy to be

conceived, their persons appeared to me as painted palaces, inhabited by

Disease and Death: nor could their beauty make them more desirable

objects in my eyes than gilding could make me covet a pill, or golden

plates a coffin. But though I was no longer the absolute slave, I found

some reasons to own myself still the subject, of love. My hatred for

women decreased daily; and I am not positive but time might have

betrayed me again to some common harlot, had I not been secured by a

passion for the charming Sapphira, which, having once entered upon, made

a violent progress in my heart. Sapphira was wife to a man of fashion

and gallantry, and one who seemed, I own, every way worthy of her

affections; which, however, he had not the reputation of having. She was

indeed a coquette _achevee_. "Pray, sir," says Adams, "what is a

coquette? I have met with the word in French authors, but never could

assign any idea to it. I believe it is the same with _une sotte,_

Anglice, a fool." Sir, answered the gentleman, perhaps you are not much

mistaken; but, as it is a particular kind of folly, I will endeavour to

describe it. Were all creatures to be ranked in the order of creation

according to their usefulness, I know few animals that would not take

place of a coquette; nor indeed hath this creature much pretence to

anything beyond instinct; for, though sometimes we might imagine it was

animated by the passion of vanity, yet far the greater part of its

actions fall beneath even that low motive; for instance, several absurd

gestures and tricks, infinitely more foolish than what can be observed

in the most ridiculous birds and beasts, and which would persuade the

beholder that the silly wretch was aiming at our contempt. Indeed its

characteristic is affectation, and this led and governed by whim only:

for as beauty, wisdom, wit, good-nature, politeness, and health are

sometimes affected by this creature, so are ugliness, folly, nonsense,

ill-nature, ill-breeding, and sickness likewise put on by it in their

turn. Its life is one constant lie; and the only rule by which you can

form any judgment of them is, that they are never what they seem. If it

was possible for a coquette to love (as it is not, for if ever it

attains this passion the coquette ceases instantly), it would wear the

face of indifference, if not of hatred, to the beloved object; you may

therefore be assured, when they endeavour to persuade you of their

liking, that they are indifferent to you at least. And indeed this was

the case of my Sapphira, who no sooner saw me in the number of her

admirers than she gave me what is commonly called encouragement: she

would often look at me, and, when she perceived me meet her eyes, would

instantly take them off, discovering at the same time as much surprize

and emotion as possible. These arts failed not of the success she

intended; and, as I grew more particular to her than the rest of her

admirers, she advanced, in proportion, more directly to me than to the

others. She affected the low voice, whisper, lisp, sigh, start, laugh,

and many other indications of passion which daily deceive thousands.

When I played at whist with her, she would look earnestly at me, and at

the same time lose deal or revoke; then burst into a ridiculous laugh

and cry, "La! I can't imagine what I was thinking of." To detain you no

longer, after I had gone through a sufficient course of gallantry, as I

thought, and was thoroughly convinced I had raised a violent passion in

my mistress, I sought an opportunity of coming to an eclaircissement

with her. She avoided this as much as possible; however, great assiduity

at length presented me one. I will not describe all the particulars of

this interview; let it suffice that, when she could no longer pretend

not to see my drift, she first affected a violent surprize, and

immediately after as violent a passion: she wondered what I had seen in

her conduct which could induce me to affront her in this manner; and,

breaking from me the first moment she could, told me I had no other way

to escape the consequence of her resentment than by never seeing, or at

least speaking to her more. I was not contented with this answer; I

still pursued her, but to no purpose; and was at length convinced that

her husband had the sole possession of her person, and that neither he

nor any other had made any impression on her heart. I was taken off from

following this _ignis fatuus_ by some advances which were made me by the

wife of a citizen, who, though neither very young nor handsome, was yet

too agreeable to be rejected by my amorous constitution. I accordingly

soon satisfied her that she had not cast away her hints on a barren or

cold soil: on the contrary, they instantly produced her an eager and

desiring lover. Nor did she give me any reason to complain; she met the

warmth she had raised with equal ardour. I had no longer a coquette to

deal with, but one who was wiser than to prostitute the noble passion of

love to the ridiculous lust of vanity. We presently understood one

another; and, as the pleasures we sought lay in a mutual gratification,

we soon found and enjoyed them. I thought myself at first greatly happy

in the possession of this new mistress, whose fondness would have

quickly surfeited a more sickly appetite; but it had a different effect

on mine: she carried my passion higher by it than youth or beauty had

been able. But my happiness could not long continue uninterrupted. The

apprehensions we lay under from the jealousy of her husband gave us

great uneasiness. "Poor wretch! I pity him," cried Adams. He did indeed

deserve it, said the gentleman; for he loved his wife with great

tenderness; and, I assure you, it is a great satisfaction to me that I

was not the man who first seduced her affections from him. These

apprehensions appeared also too well grounded, for in the end he

discovered us, and procured witnesses of our caresses. He then

prosecuted me at law, and recovered L3000 damages, which much distressed

my fortune to pay; and, what was worse, his wife, being divorced, came

upon my hands. I led a very uneasy life with her; for, besides that my

passion was now much abated, her excessive jealousy was very

troublesome. At length death rid me of an inconvenience which the

consideration of my having been the author of her misfortunes would

never suffer me to take any other method of discarding.

I now bad adieu to love, and resolved to pursue other less dangerous and

expensive pleasures. I fell into the acquaintance of a set of jolly

companions, who slept all day and drank all night; fellows who might

rather be said to consume time than to live. Their best conversation was

nothing but noise: singing, hollowing, wrangling, drinking, toasting,

sp--wing, smoaking were the chief ingredients of our entertainment. And

yet, bad as these were, they were more tolerable than our graver scenes,

which were either excessive tedious narratives of dull common matters of

fact, or hot disputes about trifling matters, which commonly ended in a

wager. This way of life the first serious reflection put a period to;

and I became member of a club frequented by young men of great

abilities. The bottle was now only called in to the assistance of our

conversation, which rolled on the deepest points of philosophy. These

gentlemen were engaged in a search after truth, in the pursuit of which

they threw aside all the prejudices of education, and governed

themselves only by the infallible guide of human reason. This great

guide, after having shown them the falsehood of that very ancient but

simple tenet, that there is such a being as a Deity in the universe,

helped them to establish in his stead a certain rule of right, by

adhering to which they all arrived at the utmost purity of morals.

Reflection made me as much delighted with this society as it had taught

me to despise and detest the former. I began now to esteem myself a

being of a higher order than I had ever before conceived; and was the

more charmed with this rule of right, as I really found in my own nature

nothing repugnant to it. I held in utter contempt all persons who wanted

any other inducement to virtue besides her intrinsic beauty and

excellence; and had so high an opinion of my present companions, with

regard to their morality, that I would have trusted them with whatever

was nearest and dearest to me. Whilst I was engaged in this delightful

dream, two or three accidents happened successively, which at first much

surprized me;--for one of our greatest philosophers, or rule-of-right

men, withdrew himself from us, taking with him the wife of one of his

most intimate friends. Secondly, another of the same society left the

club without remembering to take leave of his bail. A third, having

borrowed a sum of money of me, for which I received no security, when I

asked him to repay it, absolutely denied the loan. These several

practices, so inconsistent with our golden rule, made me begin to

suspect its infallibility; but when I communicated my thoughts to one of

the club, he said, "There was nothing absolutely good or evil in itself;

that actions were denominated good or bad by the circumstances of the

agent. That possibly the man who ran away with his neighbour's wife

might be one of very good inclinations, but over-prevailed on by the

violence of an unruly passion; and, in other particulars, might be a

very worthy member of society; that if the beauty of any woman created

in him an uneasiness, he had a right from nature to relieve

himself;"--with many other things, which I then detested so much, that I

took leave of the society that very evening and never returned to it

again. Being now reduced to a state of solitude which I did not like, I

became a great frequenter of the playhouses, which indeed was always my

favourite diversion; and most evenings passed away two or three hours

behind the scenes, where I met with several poets, with whom I made

engagements at the taverns. Some of the players were likewise of our

parties. At these meetings we were generally entertained by the poets

with reading their performances, and by the players with repeating their

parts: upon which occasions, I observed the gentleman who furnished our

entertainment was commonly the best pleased of the company; who, though

they were pretty civil to him to his face, seldom failed to take the

first opportunity of his absence to ridicule him. Now I made some

remarks which probably are too obvious to be worth relating. "Sir," says

Adams, "your remarks if you please." First then, says he, I concluded

that the general observation, that wits are most inclined to vanity, is

not true. Men are equally vain of riches, strength, beauty, honours, &c.

But these appear of themselves to the eyes of the beholders, whereas the

poor wit is obliged to produce his performance to show you his

perfection; and on his readiness to do this that vulgar opinion I have

before mentioned is grounded; but doth not the person who expends vast

sums in the furniture of his house or the ornaments of his person, who

consumes much time and employs great pains in dressing himself, or who

thinks himself paid for self-denial, labour, or even villany, by a title

or a ribbon, sacrifice as much to vanity as the poor wit who is desirous

to read you his poem or his play? My second remark was, that vanity is

the worst of passions, and more apt to contaminate the mind than any

other: for, as selfishness is much more general than we please to allow

it, so it is natural to hate and envy those who stand between us and the

good we desire. Now, in lust and ambition these are few; and even in

avarice we find many who are no obstacles to our pursuits; but the vain

man seeks pre-eminence; and everything which is excellent or

praiseworthy in another renders him the mark of his antipathy. Adams now

began to fumble in his pockets, and soon cried out, "O la! I have it not

about me." Upon this, the gentleman asking him what he was searching

for, he said he searched after a sermon, which he thought his

masterpiece, against vanity. "Fie upon it, fie upon it!" cries he, "why

do I ever leave that sermon out of my pocket? I wish it was within five

miles; I would willingly fetch it, to read it you." The gentleman

answered that there was no need, for he was cured of the passion. "And

for that very reason," quoth Adams, "I would read it, for I am confident

you would admire it: indeed, I have never been a greater enemy to any

passion than that silly one of vanity." The gentleman smiled, and

proceeded--From this society I easily passed to that of the gamesters,

where nothing remarkable happened but the finishing my fortune, which

those gentlemen soon helped me to the end of. This opened scenes of life

hitherto unknown; poverty and distress, with their horrid train of duns,

attorneys, bailiffs, haunted me day and night. My clothes grew shabby,

my credit bad, my friends and acquaintance of all kinds cold. In this

situation the strangest thought imaginable came into my head; and what

was this but to write a play? for I had sufficient leisure: fear of

bailiffs confined me every day to my room: and, having always had a

little inclination and something of a genius that way, I set myself to

work, and within a few months produced a piece of five acts, which was

accepted of at the theatre. I remembered to have formerly taken tickets

of other poets for their benefits, long before the appearance of their

performances; and, resolving to follow a precedent which was so well

suited to my present circumstances, I immediately provided myself with a

large number of little papers. Happy indeed would be the state of

poetry, would these tickets pass current at the bakehouse, the

ale-house, and the chandler's shop: but alas! far otherwise; no taylor

will take them in payment for buckram, canvas, stay-tape; nor no bailiff

for civility money. They are, indeed, no more than a passport to beg

with; a certificate that the owner wants five shillings, which induces

well-disposed Christians to charity. I now experienced what is worse

than poverty, or rather what is the worst consequence of poverty--I mean

attendance and dependance on the great. Many a morning have I waited

hours in the cold parlours of men of quality; where, after seeing the

lowest rascals in lace and embroidery, the pimps and buffoons in

fashion, admitted, I have been sometimes told, on sending in my name,

that my lord could not possibly see me this morning; a sufficient

assurance that I should never more get entrance into that house.

Sometimes I have been at last admitted; and the great man hath thought

proper to excuse himself, by telling me he was tied up. "Tied up," says

Adams, "pray what's that?" Sir, says the gentleman, the profit which

booksellers allowed authors for the best works was so very small, that

certain men of birth and fortune some years ago, who were the patrons of

wit and learning, thought fit to encourage them farther by entering into

voluntary subscriptions for their encouragement. Thus Prior, Rowe, Pope,

and some other men of genius, received large sums for their labours from

the public. This seemed so easy a method of getting money, that many of

the lowest scribblers of the times ventured to publish their works in

the same way; and many had the assurance to take in subscriptions for

what was not writ, nor ever intended. Subscriptions in this manner

growing infinite, and a kind of tax on the publick, some persons,

finding it not so easy a task to discern good from bad authors, or to

know what genius was worthy encouragement and what was not, to prevent

the expense of subscribing to so many, invented a method to excuse

themselves from all subscriptions whatever; and this was to receive a

small sum of money in consideration of giving a large one if ever they

subscribed; which many have done, and many more have pretended to have

done, in order to silence all solicitation. The same method was likewise

taken with playhouse tickets, which were no less a public grievance; and

this is what they call being tied up from subscribing. "I can't say but

the term is apt enough, and somewhat typical," said Adams; "for a man of

large fortune, who ties himself up, as you call it, from the

encouragement of men of merit, ought to be tied up in reality." Well,

sir, says the gentleman, to return to my story. Sometimes I have

received a guinea from a man of quality, given with as ill a grace as

alms are generally to the meanest beggar; and purchased too with as much

time spent in attendance as, if it had been spent in honest industry,

might have brought me more profit with infinitely more satisfaction.

After about two months spent in this disagreeable way, with the utmost

mortification, when I was pluming my hopes on the prospect of a

plentiful harvest from my play, upon applying to the prompter to know

when it came into rehearsal, he informed me he had received orders from

the managers to return me the play again, for that they could not

possibly act it that season; but, if I would take it and revise it

against the next, they would be glad to see it again. I snatched it from

him with great indignation, and retired to my room, where I threw myself

on the bed in a fit of despair. "You should rather have thrown yourself

on your knees," says Adams, "for despair is sinful." As soon, continued

the gentleman, as I had indulged the first tumult of my passion, I began

to consider coolly what course I should take, in a situation without

friends, money, credit, or reputation of any kind. After revolving many

things in my mind, I could see no other possibility of furnishing myself

with the miserable necessaries of life than to retire to a garret near

the Temple, and commence hackney-writer to the lawyers, for which I was

well qualified, being an excellent penman. This purpose I resolved on,

and immediately put it in execution. I had an acquaintance with an

attorney who had formerly transacted affairs for me, and to him I

applied; but, instead of furnishing me with any business, he laughed at

my undertaking, and told me, "He was afraid I should turn his deeds into

plays, and he should expect to see them on the stage." Not to tire you

with instances of this kind from others, I found that Plato himself did

not hold poets in greater abhorrence than these men of business do.

Whenever I durst venture to a coffeehouse, which was on Sundays only, a

whisper ran round the room, which was constantly attended with a

sneer--That's poet Wilson; for I know not whether you have observed it,

but there is a malignity in the nature of man, which, when not weeded

out, or at least covered by a good education and politeness, delights in

making another uneasy or dissatisfied with himself. This abundantly

appears in all assemblies, except those which are filled by people of

fashion, and especially among the younger people of both sexes whose

birth and fortunes place them just without the polite circles; I mean

the lower class of the gentry, and the higher of the mercantile world,

who are, in reality, the worst-bred part of mankind. Well, sir, whilst I

continued in this miserable state, with scarce sufficient business to

keep me from starving, the reputation of a poet being my bane, I

accidentally became acquainted with a bookseller, who told me, "It was a

pity a man of my learning and genius should be obliged to such a method

of getting his livelihood; that he had a compassion for me, and, if I

would engage with him, he would undertake to provide handsomely for me."

A man in my circumstances, as he very well knew, had no choice. I

accordingly accepted his proposal with his conditions, which were none

of the most favourable, and fell to translating with all my might. I had

no longer reason to lament the want of business; for he furnished me

with so much, that in half a year I almost writ myself blind. I likewise

contracted a distemper by my sedentary life, in which no part of my body

was exercised but my right arm, which rendered me incapable of writing

for a long time. This unluckily happening to delay the publication of a

work, and my last performance not having sold well, the bookseller

declined any further engagement, and aspersed me to his brethren as a

careless idle fellow. I had, however, by having half worked and half

starved myself to death during the time I was in his service, saved a

few guineas, with which I bought a lottery-ticket, resolving to throw

myself into Fortune's lap, and try if she would make me amends for the

injuries she had done me at the gaming-table. This purchase, being made,

left me almost pennyless; when, as if I had not been sufficiently

miserable, a bailiff in woman's clothes got admittance to my chamber,

whither he was directed by the bookseller. He arrested me at my taylor's

suit for thirty-five pounds; a sum for which I could not procure bail;

and was therefore conveyed to his house, where I was locked up in an

upper chamber. I had now neither health (for I was scarce recovered from

my indisposition), liberty, money, or friends; and had abandoned all

hopes, and even the desire, of life. "But this could not last long,"

said Adams; "for doubtless the taylor released you the moment he was

truly acquainted with your affairs, and knew that your circumstances

would not permit you to pay him." "Oh, sir," answered the gentleman, "he

knew that before he arrested me; nay, he knew that nothing but

incapacity could prevent me paying my debts; for I had been his customer

many years, had spent vast sums of money with him, and had always paid

most punctually in my prosperous days; but when I reminded him of this,

with assurances that, if he would not molest my endeavours, I would pay

him all the money I could by my utmost labour and industry procure,

reserving only what was sufficient to preserve me alive, he answered,

his patience was worn out; that I had put him off from time to time;

that he wanted the money; that he had put it into a lawyer's hands; and

if I did not pay him immediately, or find security, I must die in gaol

and expect no mercy." "He may expect mercy," cries Adams, starting from

his chair, "where he will find none! How can such a wretch repeat the

Lord's Prayer; where the word, which is translated, I know not for what

reason, trespasses, is in the original, debts? And as surely as we do

not forgive others their debts, when they are unable to pay them, so

surely shall we ourselves be unforgiven when we are in no condition of

paying." He ceased, and the gentleman proceeded. While I was in this

deplorable situation, a former acquaintance, to whom I had communicated

my lottery-ticket, found me out, and, making me a visit, with great

delight in his countenance, shook me heartily by the hand, and wished me

joy of my good fortune: for, says he, your ticket is come up a prize of

L3000. Adams snapped his fingers at these words in an ecstasy of joy;

which, however, did not continue long; for the gentleman thus

proceeded:--Alas! sir, this was only a trick of Fortune to sink me the

deeper; for I had disposed of this lottery-ticket two days before to a

relation, who refused lending me a shilling without it, in order to

procure myself bread. As soon as my friend was acquainted with my

unfortunate sale he began to revile me and remind me of all the

ill-conduct and miscarriages of my life. He said I was one whom Fortune

could not save if she would; that I was now ruined without any hopes of

retrieval, nor must expect any pity from my friends; that it would be

extreme weakness to compassionate the misfortunes of a man who ran

headlong to his own destruction. He then painted to me, in as lively

colours as he was able, the happiness I should have now enjoyed, had I

not foolishly disposed of my ticket. I urged the plea of necessity; but

he made no answer to that, and began again to revile me, till I could

bear it no longer, and desired him to finish his visit. I soon exchanged

the bailiff's house for a prison; where, as I had not money sufficient

to procure me a separate apartment, I was crouded in with a great number

of miserable wretches, in common with whom I was destitute of every

convenience of life, even that which all the brutes enjoy, wholesome

air. In these dreadful circumstances I applied by letter to several of

my old acquaintance, and such to whom I had formerly lent money without

any great prospect of its being returned, for their assistance; but in

vain. An excuse, instead of a denial, was the gentlest answer I

received. Whilst I languished in a condition too horrible to be

described, and which, in a land of humanity, and, what is much more,

Christianity, seems a strange punishment for a little inadvertency and

indiscretion; whilst I was in this condition, a fellow came into the

prison, and, enquiring me out, delivered me the following letter:--

   "SIR,--My father, to whom you sold your ticket in the last

   lottery, died the same day in which it came up a prize, as you

   have possibly heard, and left me sole heiress of all his

   fortune. I am so much touched with your present circumstances,

   and the uneasiness you must feel at having been driven to

   dispose of what might have made you happy, that I must desire

   your acceptance of the enclosed, and am your humble servant,

   "HARRIET HEARTY."

And what do you think was enclosed? "I don't know," cried Adams; "not

less than a guinea, I hope." Sir, it was a bank-note for L200.--"L200?"

says Adams, in a rapture. No less, I assure you, answered the gentleman;

a sum I was not half so delighted with as with the dear name of the

generous girl that sent it me; and who was not only the best but the

handsomest creature in the universe, and for whom I had long had a

passion which I never durst disclose to her. I kissed her name a

thousand times, my eyes overflowing with tenderness and gratitude; I

repeated--But not to detain you with these raptures, I immediately

acquired my liberty; and, having paid all my debts, departed, with

upwards of fifty pounds in my pocket, to thank my kind deliverer. She

happened to be then out of town, a circumstance which, upon reflection,

pleased me; for by that means I had an opportunity to appear before her

in a more decent dress. At her return to town, within a day or two, I

threw myself at her feet with the most ardent acknowledgments, which she

rejected with an unfeigned greatness of mind, and told me I could not

oblige her more than by never mentioning, or if possible thinking on, a

circumstance which must bring to my mind an accident that might be

grievous to me to think on. She proceeded thus: "What I have done is in

my own eyes a trifle, and perhaps infinitely less than would have become

me to do. And if you think of engaging in any business where a larger

sum may be serviceable to you, I shall not be over-rigid either as to

the security or interest." I endeavoured to express all the gratitude in

my power to this profusion of goodness, though perhaps it was my enemy,

and began to afflict my mind with more agonies than all the miseries I

had underwent; it affected me with severer reflections than poverty,

distress, and prisons united had been able to make me feel; for, sir,

these acts and professions of kindness, which were sufficient to have

raised in a good heart the most violent passion of friendship to one of

the same, or to age and ugliness in a different sex, came to me from a

woman, a young and beautiful woman; one whose perfections I had long

known, and for whom I had long conceived a violent passion, though with

a despair which made me endeavour rather to curb and conceal, than to

nourish or acquaint her with it. In short, they came upon me united with

beauty, softness, and tenderness: such bewitching smiles!--O Mr Adams,

in that moment I lost myself, and, forgetting our different situations,

nor considering what return I was making to her goodness by desiring

her, who had given me so much, to bestow her all, I laid gently hold on

her hand, and, conveying it to my lips, I prest it with inconceivable

ardour; then, lifting up my swimming eyes, I saw her face and neck

overspread with one blush; she offered to withdraw her hand, yet not so

as to deliver it from mine, though I held it with the gentlest force. We

both stood trembling; her eyes cast on the ground, and mine stedfastly

fixed on her. Good G--d, what was then the condition of my soul! burning

with love, desire, admiration, gratitude, and every tender passion, all

bent on one charming object. Passion at last got the better of both

reason and respect, and, softly letting go her hand, I offered madly to

clasp her in my arms; when, a little recovering herself, she started

from me, asking me, with some show of anger, "If she had any reason to

expect this treatment from me." I then fell prostrate before her, and

told her, if I had offended, my life was absolutely in her power, which

I would in any manner lose for her sake. Nay, madam, said I, you shall

not be so ready to punish me as I to suffer. I own my guilt. I detest

the reflection that I would have sacrificed your happiness to mine.

Believe me, I sincerely repent my ingratitude; yet, believe me too, it

was my passion, my unbounded passion for you, which hurried me so far: I

have loved you long and tenderly, and the goodness you have shown me

hath innocently weighed down a wretch undone before. Acquit me of all

mean, mercenary views; and, before I take my leave of you for ever,

which I am resolved instantly to do, believe me that Fortune could have

raised me to no height to which I could not have gladly lifted you. O,

curst be Fortune!--"Do not," says she, interrupting me with the sweetest

voice, "do not curse Fortune, since she hath made me happy; and, if she

hath put your happiness in my power, I have told you you shall ask

nothing in reason which I will refuse." Madam, said I, you mistake me if

you imagine, as you seem, my happiness is in the power of Fortune now.

You have obliged me too much already; if I have any wish, it is for some

blest accident, by which I may contribute with my life to the least

augmentation of your felicity. As for myself, the only happiness I can

ever have will be hearing of yours; and if Fortune will make that

complete, I will forgive her all her wrongs to me. "You may, indeed,"

answered she, smiling, "for your own happiness must be included in mine.

I have long known your worth; nay, I must confess," said she, blushing,

"I have long discovered that passion for me you profess, notwithstanding

those endeavours, which I am convinced were unaffected, to conceal it;

and if all I can give with reason will not suffice, take reason away;

and now I believe you cannot ask me what I will deny."--She uttered

these words with a sweetness not to be imagined. I immediately started;

my blood, which lay freezing at my heart, rushed tumultuously through

every vein. I stood for a moment silent; then, flying to her, I caught

her in my arms, no longer resisting, and softly told her she must give

me then herself. O, sir! can I describe her look? She remained silent,

and almost motionless, several minutes. At last, recovering herself a

little, she insisted on my leaving her, and in such a manner that I

instantly obeyed: you may imagine, however, I soon saw her again.--But I

ask pardon: I fear I have detained you too long in relating the

particulars of the former interview. "So far otherwise," said Adams,

licking his lips, "that I could willingly hear it over again." Well,

sir, continued the gentleman, to be as concise as possible, within a

week she consented to make me the happiest of mankind. We were married

shortly after; and when I came to examine the circumstances of my wife's

fortune (which, I do assure you, I was not presently at leisure enough

to do), I found it amounted to about six thousand pounds, most part of

which lay in effects; for her father had been a wine-merchant, and she

seemed willing, if I liked it, that I should carry on the same trade. I

readily, and too inconsiderately, undertook it; for, not having been

bred up to the secrets of the business, and endeavouring to deal with

the utmost honesty and uprightness, I soon found our fortune in a

declining way, and my trade decreasing by little and little; for my

wines, which I never adulterated after their importation, and were sold

as neat as they came over, were universally decried by the vintners, to

whom I could not allow them quite as cheap as those who gained double

the profit by a less price. I soon began to despair of improving our

fortune by these means; nor was I at all easy at the visits and

familiarity of many who had been my acquaintance in my prosperity, but

had denied and shunned me in my adversity, and now very forwardly

renewed their acquaintance with me. In short, I had sufficiently seen

that the pleasures of the world are chiefly folly, and the business of

it mostly knavery, and both nothing better than vanity; the men of

pleasure tearing one another to pieces from the emulation of spending

money, and the men of business from envy in getting it. My happiness

consisted entirely in my wife, whom I loved with an inexpressible

fondness, which was perfectly returned; and my prospects were no other

than to provide for our growing family; for she was now big of her

second child: I therefore took an opportunity to ask her opinion of

entering into a retired life, which, after hearing my reasons and

perceiving my affection for it, she readily embraced. We soon put our

small fortune, now reduced under three thousand pounds, into money, with

part of which we purchased this little place, whither we retired soon

after her delivery, from a world full of bustle, noise, hatred, envy,

and ingratitude, to ease, quiet, and love. We have here lived almost

twenty years, with little other conversation than our own, most of the

neighbourhood taking us for very strange people; the squire of the

parish representing me as a madman, and the parson as a presbyterian,

because I will not hunt with the one nor drink with the other. "Sir,"

says Adams, "Fortune hath, I think, paid you all her debts in this sweet

retirement." Sir, replied the gentleman, I am thankful to the great

Author of all things for the blessings I here enjoy. I have the best of

wives, and three pretty children, for whom I have the true tenderness of

a parent. But no blessings are pure in this world: within three years of

my arrival here I lost my eldest son. (Here he sighed bitterly.) "Sir,"

says Adams, "we must submit to Providence, and consider death as common

to all." We must submit, indeed, answered the gentleman; and if he had

died I could have borne the loss with patience; but alas! sir, he was

stolen away from my door by some wicked travelling people whom they call

gipsies; nor could I ever, with the most diligent search, recover him.

Poor child! he had the sweetest look--the exact picture of his mother;

at which some tears unwittingly dropt from his eyes, as did likewise

from those of Adams, who always sympathized with his friends on those

occasions. Thus, sir, said the gentleman, I have finished my story, in

which if I have been too particular, I ask your pardon; and now, if you

please, I will fetch you another bottle: which proposal the parson

thankfully accepted.