LETTER I.

THE tenderness of a fond father's heart admonishes me, that I should but poorly requi [...]e the affectionate solicitude you have so often expressed, to become acquainted with the particulars of my jour­ney over land to India, if I any longer with-held from you an account of that singular and eventful period of my life. I confess to you, my dear boy, that often when I have endeavoured to amuse you with the leading incidents and extraordinary vicis­situdes of fortune which chequered the whole of that series of adventures, and observed the eager attention with which, young though you were, you listened to the recital, the tender sensibility you dis­closed at some passages, and the earnest desire you expressed that "I should the whole relate," I have felt an almost irresistible impulse to indulge you with an accurate and faithful narrative, and have more than once sat down at my bureau for the pur­pose: but sober and deliberate reflection suggested that it was too soon, and that, by complying with your desire at such a very early period of your life, I should but render the great end I proposed by it [Page 14] abortive, frustrate the instruction which I meant to convey, and impress the mere incident on your memory, while the moral deducible from it must necessarily evaporate, and leave no trace, or rather excite no idea, in a mind not sufficiently matured for the conception of abstract principles, or prepared by practice for the deduction of moral inferences.

I am aware that there are many people, who, contemplating only the number of your days, would consider my undertaking this arduous task, and offer­ing it to your reflection, even now, premature: but this is a subject on which I have so long and so deliberately dwelt, which I have discussed with so much care, and examined with such impartiality, that I think I may be acquitted of vanity, though I say I am competent to form a judgment on it. The result of that judgment is, that I am determined to indulge you without further delay; and I trust that you will not, on your part, render it an empty indulgence, but, on the contrary, by turning every circumstance to its best use, by converting every feeling which these pages may excite in your heart into matter of serious reflection, and by making every event (as it happens to deserve) an example to promote either emulation on the one hand, or circumspection and caution on the other, justify me in that opinion of you on which I found this de­termination.

I remember, that when, at an early age, I entered upon that stage of classical education at which you are now, at an earlier age, arrived—I mean the Aeneid—I was not only captivated with the beauti­ful story of the Hero, in the second Book, but drew certain inferences from parts of it, which I shall never forget, and which afterwards served to give a direction to the growth of my sentiments on occa­sions of a similar nature: above all, the filial piety of Aeneas made a deep impression on my mind, and, [Page 15] by imperceptibly exciting emulation in my bosom, augmented considerably the natural warmth of my affection and respect for my father. It is under the recollection of this sensation, and a firm persuasion that your heart is fully as susceptible of every tender impression, and your understanding as fit for the reception of useful history, as mine was then, that I overlook your extreme youth, and write to you as though you were an adult. If there be a thing on earth of which I can boast a perfect knowledge, it is my FREDERICK'S heart: it has been the object of my uninterrupted study almost since it was first capable of manifesting a sensation; and, if I am not very much mistaken in it indeed, the lively interest he feels in the occurrences of his father's life, is the result, not of idle curiosity, but unbounded filial affection. Such an amiable motive shall not be dis­appointed in its end; and while I discharge the duty of a parent in gratifying it, I shall be encouraged and sustained under my labours by the sanguine ex­pectation, that he will derive from my exertions the most solid advantages in his future progress through life. As those advantages are expected also to extend to my dear boy JOHN, whose tender years disqualify him from making the same immediate reflections on the various subjects as they occur, my FREDERICK will perceive that it becomes his duty, not only as a good son, but as an affectionate brother, to assist and enforce them upon his mind, to explain to him the difficulties, and furnish him with his reasonings and inferences on them, so as that they may make, as nearly as possible, equal impressions on the heart and understanding of both. ‘"Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum:"’ And though few have the felicity to be warned by other men's misfortunes or faults, because they sel­dom make deep impressions on their feelings, I am [Page 16] convinced that my sufferings and errors, as they will interest my FREDERICK'S heart, and gratify his curiosity, cannot fail to enlarge his understand­ing, and improve his conduct.

LETTER II.

HAVING, in compliance with your reiterated solicitations, determined to give you a narrative of my journey to the East Indies, and the singular turns of fortune which befel me there, I think it necessary, on reflection, to prepare you still further for the reception of it, by proposing certain terms to be fulfilled on your part; and as, in my last, I told you that I expected you, and, with your assistance, your brother, to turn my r [...]tion to a more useful account than the gratification of mere idle curiosity, by letting the moral deducible from my errors and misfortunes strike deep and take root in your mind—so there are other things, which, though not so extremely important, are too weighty to be neglected; to which I desire to direct your attention.

I believe you must have already perceived, that the well-being of yourself and your brother is my nest—I might, perhaps, without trespassing much upon truth, say, my only object in life; that, to the care of your education, and the cultivation of your m [...]nd, I exclusively devote my time and my thoughts; and that, to insure your future happi­ness, [Page 17] I would sacrifice every thing I have a right to dispose of, and risk even life itself. The time, I trust, is not far distant, when your brother will be as well qualified to understand this as you are now—when both will feel alike the important duty it enforces on you—and when your only emulation will be, who shall produce the most luxuriant har­vest to reward the labours I have taken—to reward yourselves.

In order, therefore, on my part, to give every thing I do a tendency to the great object of my wishes, and induce you, on your's, to contribute your share to it, I shall give you, as I proceed in my narrative, a topographical description of the various Countries through which I shall have occa­sion to conduct you, and, as concisely as may be, an account of their manners, policy, and munici­pal institutions, so far as I have been able to collect them; which I hope will serve to awaken in you a thirst for those indispensible parts of polite educa­tion, Geography and History. I expect that you will carefully attend to those sciences, and that you will not suffer yourself, as you read my Letters, to be carried [...]ay by the rapid stream of idle curiosity from incident to incident, without time or disposi­tion for reflection: you must take excursions, as you go along, from my Letters to your Geographical Grammar and your Maps—and, when necessary, call in the aid of your Tutor, in order to compare my observations with those of others on the same places, and by those means to acquire as determinate an idea as possible of their local situation, laws, and comparative advantages, whether of Nature or Art. You will thus enable yourself hereafter to consider how society is influenced, and why some commu­nities are better directed than others.

Here I must observe to you, that as geography is a science to which rational conversation, as sup­ported [Page 18] by gentlemen of breeding and education, most frequently refers, the least ignorance of it is continually liable to detection, and, when detected, subjects a man to the most mortifying ridicule and contempt.

The ingenious GEORGE ALEXANDER STEE­VENS has, in his celebrated Lecture upon Heads, given a most ludicrous instance of this species of ignorance, in the character of a citizen, who, cen­suring the incapacity of ministers, proposes to carry on the war on a new plan of his own. The plan is, to put the troops in cork jackets—send them, thus equipped, to sea—and land them in the Medi­terranean; When his companion asks him where that place lies, he calls him fool, and informs him that the Mediterranean is the capital of Constanti­nople. Thus, my dear son, has this satirist ridicu­led ignorance in pretenders to education; and thus will every one be ridiculous who betrays a deficien­cy in this very indispensable ingredient in forming the character of a gentleman. But a story which I heard from a person of strict veracity, will serve more strongly to shew you the shame attendant on ignorance of those things which, from [...] rank, we are supposed to know; and as the fear of shame never fails to operate powerfully on a generous mind, I am sure it will serve to alarm you into industry, and application to your studies.

During the late American war, about that period when the KING of FRANCE was, so fatally for himself, though perhaps in the end it may prove fortunate for the interests of mankind, manifesting an intention to interfere and join the Americans, a worthy alderman in Dublin, reading the newspa­per, observed a paragraph, intimating, that in con­sequence of British cruisers having stopped some French vessels at sea, and searched them, France had taken umbrage! The sagacious alderman, more [Page 19] patriotic than learned, took the alarm, and proceed­ed, wi [...]h the paper in his hand, directly to a brother of the board, and, with unfeigned sorrow, deplo­red the loss his country had sustained, in having a place of such consequence as UMBRAGE ravished from it!—desiring, of all things, to be informed in what part of the wo [...]d Umbrage lay. To this the other, after a torrent of invective against mini­sters, and condolence with his affl [...]cted friend, an­swered that he was utterly unable to tell him, but that he had often heard it mentioned, and of course conceived it to a place of great importance; at the same time proposing that they should go to a neigh­bouring bookseller, who, as he dealt in books, must necessarily know every thing, in order to have this gordian knot untied. They accordingly went; and having propounded the question, "what part of the globe Umbrage lay in?" the bookseller took a Gazetteer, and, having searched it diligently, de­clared that he could not find it, and said he was almost sure there was no such place in existence. To this the two aldermen, with a contemptuous sneer, answered by triumphantly reading the para­graph out of the newspaper. The bookseller, who was a shrewd fellow, and, like most of his coun­trymen, delighted in a jest, gravely replied, that the Gazetteer being an old edition, he could not answer for it, but that he supposed Umbrage lay somewhere on the coast of America. With this the wise mag [...]strates returned home, partly satisfied: but what words can express their chagrin when they found their error—that the unlucky booksel­ler had spread the story over the city—that the newspapers were filled with satirical squibs upon it—nay, that a caracature print of themselves lead­ing the city-watch to the retaking of Umbrage, was stuck up in every shop—and finally, that they could scarcely (albeit aldermen) walk the streets, without [Page 20] having the populace sneer at them about the taking of Umbrage!

Thus, my child, will every one be more or less ridiculous who appears obviously ignorant of those things which, from the rank he holds in life, he should be expected to know, or to the knowledge of which vanity or petulence may tempt him to pretend.

I am sure I need not say more to you on this subject; for I think you love me too well to disap­point me in the first wish of my heart, and I believe you have too much manly pride to suffer so degra­ding a defect as indolence to expose you hereafter to animadversion or contempt. Remember, that as nothing in this life, however trivial or worthless, is to be procured without labour—so, above all others, the weighty and invaluable treasures of eru­dition are only to be acquired by exertions vigor­ously made and unremittingly continued.

‘Quid munus reipublicae majus aut melius a [...]ferre possumus quam si juventutem bene erudiamus.’— Thus saith the matchless TULLY. If, then, the education of youth interests so very deeply a state, can it less powerfully interest him who stands in the twofold connection of a citizen and parent? It is the lively anxiety of my mind, on this point, that obliges me to procrastinate the commencement of my narrative to another letter, and induces me to entreat that you will, in the mean time, give this the consideration it deserves, and prepare your mind to follow its instructions.

LETTER III.

A VARIETY of unpropicious circum­stances gave rise to my journey to the East Indies, while domestic calamity marked my departure, and, at the very outset, gave me a foretaste of those mise­ries which fate had reserved to let fall upon me in the sequel. The channels from which I drew the means of supporting my family in that style which their rank and connections obliged them to maintain, were clogged by a coincidence of events as unlucky as unexpected: the war in India had interrupted the regular remittance of my property from thence: a severe shock which unbounded generosity and beneficence had given to the affairs of my father, rendered him incapable of maintaining his usual punctuality in the payment of the income he had assigned me; and, to crown the whole, I had been deprived, by death, of two lovely children (your brother and sister), whom I loved not less than I have since loved you and your brother.

It was under the pressure of those accumulated affl [...]ctions, aggravated by the goading thought of leaving my family for such a length of time as must necessarily elapse before I could again see them, that I set out for India in the month of May, in the year 1781, with a heart overwhelmed with woe, and too surely predictive of misfortunes.

From the gloomy cave of depression in which my mind was sunk, I looked forward, to seek, in the future, a gleam of comfort—but in vain: not a ray [Page 22] appeared—Melancholy had thrown her sombre sha­dow on the whole. Even present affl [...]ction yielded up a share of my heart to an unaccountable dismal presentiment of future ill; and the disasters and disappointments I had passed, were lost and forgot­ten in ominous forebodings and instinctive presages of those that were to come.

Of all the weaknesses to which the human mind is subject, superstition is that against which I would have you guard with the utmost vigilance. It is the most incurable canker of the mind. Under its un­relenting dominion, happiness withers, the under­standing becomes obscured, and every principle of joy is blasted. For this reason I wish to account for those presages, by referring them to their true physical causes, in order thereby to prevent your young mind from receiving, from what I have written, any injurious impression, or superstitious idea of presentiment, as it is fashionably denominated.

If the mind of man be examined, it will be found naturally prone to the contemplation of the future— its flights from hope to hope, or fear to fear, lead­ing it insensibly from objects present and in posses­sion, to those remote and in expectation—from positive good to suppositious better, or from actual melancholy to imaginary misfortune. In these cases, the mind never fails to see the prospect in colours derived from the medium through which it is viewed and exaggerated by the magnifying power of fancy. Thus my mind, labouring under all the uneasiness I have described, saw every thing through the gloomy medium of melancholy, and, looking forward, foreboded nothing but misfortune: acci­dent afterwards fulfilled those forebodings; but accident, nay, the most trifling change of circum­stances, might possibly have so totally changed the face of my subsequent progress, that good fortune, instead of misadventure, might have been my lot, [Page 23] and so all my forebodings been as illusory and falli­ble as all such phantoms of the imagination really are. Thus I argue now—and I am sure I argue truly; but if reason be not timely called in, and made, as it were, an habitual inmate, it avails but little against the overbearing force of superstition, who, when she once gets possession of the mind, holds her seat with unrelenting tenacity, and, call­ing in a whole host of horrors, with despair at their head, to her aid, entrenches herself behind their formidable powers, and bids defiance to the assaults of reason.

Thus it fared with me—Under the dominion of a gloomy presentiment, I left London; and my journey down to Margate, where I was to take shipping, was, as SHAKSPEARE emphatically says, ‘a phantasm, or a hideous dream—and my little state of man suffered, as it were, the nature of an insurrection:’—the chaos within me forbade even the approach of discriminate reflection; and I found myself on board the packet, bound to Os­tend, without having a single trace left upon my mind, of the intermediate stages and incidents that happened since I had left London.

It has been observed—and I wish you always to carry it in memory, as one of the best consolations under affl [...]ction—that human sufferings, like all other things, find their vital principle exhausted, and then extiction accelerated, by overgrowth; and that, at the moment when man thinks himself most miserable, a benignant Providence is preparing re­lief, in some form or other, for him. So if, in some sort, happened with me; for I was fortunate enough to find in the packet a fellow-passenger, whose valuable conversation and agreeable manners beguiled me insensibly of the gloomy contemplation in which I was absorbed, and afforded my tortured mind a temporary suspension of pain. This gen­tleman [Page 24] was General LOCKHART: he was going to Brussels, to pay his court to the Emperor JOSEPH the Second, who was then shortly expected in the Low Countries, in order to go through the cere­monies of his inauguration. As Brussels lay in my way, I was flattered with the hopes of having for a companion a gentleman at once so pleasing in his manners and respect [...]ble in his character, and was much comforted when I found him as much dispo­sed as myself to an agreement to travel the whole of the way thither together. Thus, though far, very far from a state of ease, I was, when landing at Ostend, at least less miserable than at my coming on board the packet.

As this letter is already spun to a length too great to admit of any material part of the description I am now to give you of Ostend, and the country to which it belongs, I think it better to postpone it to my next, which I mean to devote entirely to that subject, and thereby avoid the confusion that arises from mixing two subjects in the same letter, or breaking off the thread of one in order to make way for the other.

Adieu, my dear boy!—Forget not your brother JOHN. That you may both be good and happy, is all the wish now left to, &c.

LETTER IV.

THAT country to which I am now to call your attention—I mean, the Netherlands—is marked by a greater number of political changes, and harassed by a more continued train of military [Page 25] operations, than perhaps any country in the records of modern history. It may truly be called the Cockpit Royal of Europe, on which tyrants, as ambition, avarice, pride, caprice, or malignity, prompted them, pitted thousands, and hundreds of thousands, of their fellow-creatures, to cut each other's throats about some point, frivolous as regard­ing themselves, unimportant to mankind, and only tending to gratify a diabolical lust for dominion; Yet, under all these disadvantages, (such are the natural qualities of this country), it has, till lately, been in a tolerably flourishing state; and would, under a good government and proper protection, equal any part of Europe for richness.

Flanders, Brabant, and the country now called the United Netherlands, were in general known by the name of Netherlands, Low Countries, or Pais-bas, from their situat [...]on, as it is supposed, in respect of Germany. Anciently, they formed a part of Belgic Gaul, of which you may remember to have read an account in the Commentaries of JULIUS CAESAR, who describes the inhabitants as the most valiant of all the G [...]llic Nations— ‘Horum omnium Belgae funt fortiss [...]mi.’ They after­wards were subject to petty princes, and made part of the German Empire; and, in the sixteenth cen­tury, became subject to CHARLES the Fifth of the House of Austria: but, being oppressed beyond endurance by his son, PHILIP the Second of Spain, (that blind and furious bigot), they openly revolted —slew to arms to assert their freedom; and, after a struggle as glorious in effect as virtuous in princi­ple—after performing prodigies of valour, and ex­hibiting examples of fortitude, to which none but men fighting in the godlike cause of LIBERTY are competent—led on by the wisdom and valour of the PRINCE of ORANGE, and assisted by the SOVE­REIGN of GREAT BRITAIN—they at length so [Page 26] far succeeded, that those now called the United Netherlands, entered into a solemn league, and forced the gloomy tyrant to acknowledge their in­dependence. But that part to which I am now particularly to allude, continued annexed to the House of Austria. In 1787, they revolted, and made a temporary struggle to disengage themselves from the dominion of the EMPEROR; but, owing to some cabals among themselves, and the temper­ate conduct of that prince, they again returned to their allegiance, and were rewarded with a general amnesty. In 1792, they were over-run by the French army under General DUMOURIER—open­ed their arms to those republicans, and were re­warded for it by oppression, tyranny, and injustice. The French, however, were driven back out of the country; and, wonderful to relate, they again re­ceived their old master, the EMPEROR, with strong demonstrations of joy, and manifested their loyalty and attachment to him by every expression that abject hypocrisy could suggest.

Here, could I stop with strict justice, I would— But, behold! the French again came; again they opened their gates to receive them; and again they were, with tenfold fury and rapacity, pillaged, op­pressed and insulted; and at the very time I am writing this, the guillotine is doing its office—en­forcing the payment of the most exorbitant and enormous contributions, and compelling, it is said, one hundred thousand of the ill-fated inhabitants to take the field, as soldiers of the republic.

Human opinion is so chequered and uncertain, that two very honest men may in certain cases act in direct contradiction and hostility to each other, with the very best intentions—He, therefore, must have but a cold heart, and a contracted understand­ing, [Page 27] who cannot forgive the man that acts in such cases erroneously, when he acts from the exact dic­tates of his opinion, and upon the principle which he has conscientiously adopted: but when a whole people are seen whisking about with every gust of fortune, and making a new principle for every new point of convenience, we must dispise them even when they happen to act right, and can scarcely af­ford them so much as pity in their calamities. The Austtrian Netherlands are now in that state; and, without presuming to say in which of their tergiver­sations they were right, I will venture to pronounce that they deserve punishment, and I believe they are in hands very likely to give them their due.

To return—Ostend is a sea-port of Austrian Flanders, and is situated in the Liberty of Bruges. It was, at one time, the strongest town in Flan­ders: but a double ditch and ramparts, which con­stituted its strength, are now destroyed; and in the place where the former stood, docks, or rather basons, extremely capacious and commodious, are formed, for the reception of shipping. The ground about the town is very low and marshy, and cut into a number of fine canals—into some of which, ships of the largest size may enter—and in one of which, vessels of great burthen may ride, even close to Bruges. The harbour here is so fortunately cir­cumstanced, that it was once thought, by engineers, entirely secure from a blockade; and its pristine strength can in no way be so well described, as by a relation of the defence it made in the four first years of the seventeenth century—though, near the close of the sixteenth, it was no better than an in­significant fishing town. It held out against the Spaniards for three years, two months, and sixteen days. Eighty thousand men lost their lives before it, while fifty thousand were killed or died within. It at last surrendered, but on good terms; and not [Page 28] for want of men or provisions, but for want of ground to stand on, which the enemy took from them, at an amazing loss, step by step, till they had not room left for men to defend it. Three hun­dred thousand cannon-balls, of thirty pounds weight each, were fired against it; and the besieged often filled up the breaches made in their ramparts with heaps of dead bodies.

Such, my dear boy, are the miracles that men, animated with the all-subduing spirit of Liberty, can perform—Liberty! that immediate jewel of the soul—that first moving principle of all the animal creation—which, with equal power, influences the bird to beat the cage with its wings, and the lion to tear the bars of his imprisonment—the infant to spring from the tender confinement of its nurse, and the lean and shrivelled pantaloon to crawl abroad, and fly the warmth and repose of his wholesome chamber—Liberty! which, for centu­ries enthralled by artifice and fraud, or lulled into a slumber by the witching spirit of priestcraft, now rises l [...]ke a giant refreshed with wine—in its great efforts for emancipation, destroys and overturns systems—but, when finding no resistance, and ma­tured by time, will, I sincerely hope, sink appeased into a generous calm, and become the blessing, the guardian and protect [...]r of mankind!

It is your good fortune, my dear children, to be born at a time when Liberty seems to be well un­derstood in your own country, and is universally the prevalent passion of men. It is almost needless, therefore, for me to exhort you to make it the groundwork of your political morality: but let me remind you to guard, above all, against the despo­tism of certain tyrants, to whom many of the great­est advocates for liberty are strangely apt to submit —I mean, your passions. Of all other tyrants, they are the most subtle, the most bewitching, the [Page 29] most overbearing, and, what is worse, the most cruel. Beneath the dominion of other despots, tranquility may alleviate the weight of your chains, and soften oppression; but when once you become the slave of your passions, your peace is for ever fled, and you live and die in unabating misery.

LETTER V.

THE pride of the English is remarked all over the globe, even to a proverb! But pride is a word of such dubious meaning, so undefined in its sense, and strained to such various imports, that you shall hear it violently execrated by one, and warmly applauded by another—this denouncing it as a sin of the first magnitude, and that main­taining it to be the most vigilant guardian of human virtue. Those differences in opinion arise not from any defect in the intellects of either, but from each viewing the subject in that one point in which it first strikes his eye, or best suits his taste, his feel­ing, or his prejudices. I have no doubt, however, but a full consideration of the subject would shew, that pride, as it is called, is only good or bad as the object from which it arises is mean or magnificent, culpable or meritorious. That noble pride which stimulates to extraordinary acts of generosity and magnanimity, such as, in many instances, has dis­tinguished, above all others, the nobility of Spain, exacts the homage and admiration of mankind: But I fear very much that our English pride is of another growth, and smells too rankly of that over-strained commercial spirit which makes the basis of the present grandeur of Great Britain, but which, in my humble judgment, raises only to debase her [Page 30] —by slow, subtle degrees, poisons the national principle, enslaves the once bold spirit of the peo­ple, detracts from their real solid felicity, and, by confounding the idea of national wealth with that of national prosperity, leads it in rapid strides to its downfall. In short, we are approaching, I fear, with daily accelerated steps, to the disposition and sordid habits of the Dutch, of whom Doctor GOLDSMITH so very pertinently and truly speaks, when he says, ‘"Ev'n Liberty itself is barter'd here!"’

Without leading your mind through a maze of disquisition on this subject, which might fatigue with abstruseness and prolixity, I will bring you back to the point from which the matter started, and content myself with remarking, that the pride of the English, speaking of it as a part of the nati­onal character, is the meanest of all pride. The inflation of bloated, overgrown wealth, an over-weening affection for money, an idolatrous worship of gain, have absolutely confounded the general intellect, and warped the judgment of the many to that excess, that, in estimating men or things, they always refer to "what is he worth?" or, "what will it fetch?" This sordid habit of thinking was finely hit off by a keen fellow, the native of a neighbouring kingdom, who, for many years, car­ried on business in London, and failed:—Sitting one day in a coffee-house in the city, where some wealthy citizens were discussing a subject not entire­ly unconnected with cash concerns, one of them observing him rather attentive to their conversation, turned to him, and said, "What is your opinion, Sir, of the matter?"—"'s blood, Sir!" returned he, peevishly, "what opinion can a man have in this country, who has not a guinea in his pocket?"

[Page 31]Under the influence of all the various caprices inspired by this unhappy purse-pride, I am sorry to say our countrymen do, when they go abroad, so play the fool, that they are universally flattered and despised, pillaged and laughed at, by all per­sons with whom they have any dealing. In France, Mi Lor Anglois is, or at least was, to have six times as great a profusion of every thing as any other person, and pay three hundred per cent. more for it; and the worst of it was, that a Mi Lor was found so conducive to their interest, that they would not, if they could help it, suffer any Englishman to go without a title—nay, would sometimes, with kindly compulsion, force him to accept of it, whether he would or not: but if an Englishman be, above all others, the object of im­position in foreign countries, certainly none pillage him so unmercifully as his own countrymen who are settled there. In all the places through which I have travelled, I have had occasion to remark (and the remark has been amply verified by every gentleman I have ever conversed with on the sub­ject), and the most extravagant houses of entertain­ment are those kept by Englishmen. At Ostend, as well as other places, it was so; therefore, as economy, when it does not trespass upon the bounds of genteel liberality, is the best security for happi­ness and respect, I advise you, whenever you shall have occasion to visit the Continent, in the first place to avoid all appearance of the purse-proud ostentation of John Bull; and, in the next place, to avoid all English houses of entertainment.

It is a singular circumstance, and belongs, I should suppose, peculiarly to Ostend, that the charity-children of the town are permitted to come on board the vessels arrived, to beg of the passen­gers, one day in the week.

[Page 32]Before I bid adieu to Ostend, I must remark one heavy disadvantage under which it labours—the want of fresh water; all they use being brought from Bruges. In going from Ostend to Bruges, a traveller has it in his choice to go by land, or water —If by land, he gets a good voiture for about ten shillings of our money; the road is about fourteen or fifteen miles—If by water (the mode which I adopted, as by far the cheapest and pleasantest), he travels in a vessel pretty much resembling our Lord Mayor's barge, sometimes called a track [...]chuyt, but often la barque, or barke: it is, in truth, fitted up in a style of great neatness, if not elegance; stored with a large stock of provisions and refreshments of all kinds, and of superior quality, for the accom­modation of the passengers; and has, particularly, a very handsome private room between decks, for the company to retire to, in order to drink tea, coffee, &c. &c. or play at cards. In this comforta­ble, I might say, delightful vehicle, as perfectly at ease as lying on a couch in the best room in Lon­don, are passengers drawn by two horses, at the rate of about four miles an hour, for about ten pence, the same length of way that it would cost ten shillings to be jumbled in a voiture over a rough paved road.

The country between Ostend and Bruges is very level, and of course destitute of those charms to a mind of taste, which abound in countries tossed by the hand of Nature into hill, dale, mountain, and valley: the whole face of it, however, is, or at least then was, in so high a state of cultivation, and so deeply enriched by the hands of art and industry, aided by the natural fertility of the soil, that its appearance, though far from striking or delightful, was by no means unpleasant; and on approaching the town of Bruges, we passed between two rows of trees, beautiful, shady, and of lofty size—form­ing, [Page 33] with the surrounding objects, a scene, which, if not romantic, was at least picturesque.

In passing through countries groaning beneath the despotic scourge of unlimited monarchy, where subsidies are raised, and taxes laid on ad libitum— where guilty distrust and suspicion, with the eyes of a lynx and the fangs of a harpy, stand sentinels at every gate, to scrutinize the harmless passenger, awake him to the clanks of his fetters, and awe him into compliance, a free-born Briton feels a cold horror creep through his whole frame: his soul recoils at the gloomy ferocious and insolently strict examination, with which a centinel, at the entry of a town, stops, investigates, demands a passport; and, in short, puts him, pro tempore, in a state of durance, with all its hideous formalities and appen­dages, its gates, its bars, its armed ruffians, its for­mal professions of laws, and its utter violation of reason and of justice. Entering the town of Bru­ges, we were stopped by a centinel, who, with all the saucy, swaggering air of authority, of a slave in office, demanded to know, whether we had any contraband goods? whether we were in any mili­ry capacity? whence we came? and whither we were going? with a variety of other interrogato­ries, to my mind equally impertinent and detestable, but which seemed to make no greater impression on the good Flemings themse [...]ves, than demanding the toll at a turnpike-gate would make on an English waggoner.

Talking over this subject, since that time, with a gentleman who is well acquainted with all those places, he informed me, that in the war between the Emperor and the States General, some French officers, travelling through Flanders to join Count MAILLEBOIS, were stopped at the gate of Bruges, and, by order of the Emperor, sent to his army, turned into the ranks, and obliged to do duty as [Page 34] common soldiers.—Here, my dear FREDERICK, was an act, not only despotic in itself, but aggrava­ted by circumstances of collateral profligacy, of such enormous magnitude, as bids defiance to all power of amplification, and leave eloquence hopeless of describing it with greater force than it derives from a simple narration of the fact: on the one hand, the inroad upon the just personal rights of the in­dividual; on the other, the rights of a nation vio­lated. Some men in England, judging from their own constitutional security, may disbelieve the fact: but let them consider, that the Marquis de la FAYETTE, an alien, taken upon neutral ground, is now, even now, held in illegal, unjust thraldom and persecution—let them, I say, remember this, and let their incredulity cease.

Bless your stars, my dear boy, that you were born in a country where such outrages as these can never be perpetrated by any, and will never be approved of but by a few.

LETTER VI.

IN my last, I carried you past a ferocious, impertinent sentinel, into the town of Bruges; and now, having got you there, I must endeavour, from the loose materials I have been able to collect, to give you a short description of it.

I had heard much of Bruges, its grandeur, and its opulence; you will guess my surprise then, when, on entering it, I found nothing but an old-fashioned, ill-built, irregular town; the streets, in general, narrow and dirty, and most of the houses strongly expressive of poverty and squalid wretch­edness: [Page 35] yet this was anciently a most flourishing cry. Did the difference be [...]ween the town at this time, and its state as it is represented of old, consist only in its external appearance, we might readily account for that, in the great improvements made by the moderns in the art of house-building; but its present inferiority goes deeper, and is the re [...]ult of departed commerce—commerce, that fluctuating will-with-a-wisp, that leads states in hot pursuit after it, to entrap them ultimately into mires and precipices, and which, when caught, stays till it extinguishes the spirit of freedom in a nation, re­fines its people into feeble slaves, and there leaves them to poverty and contempt.

Perhaps there is no subject that affords an ampler field for a speculative mind to expatiate upon, than the various, and, I may say, incongruous revolu­tions which have chequered the progress of human society from the first records of history down to the present time. It is indeed a speculation which not only tends to improve the understanding, by calling in experience to correct the illusions of theory, but is highly instructive in a moral point of view, by pointing out the instability of the very best strictures of human wisdom, and teaching us how little reliance is to be placed upon human casualties, or earthly contingencies. Look to Greece, once the fountain-head of arts, eloquence, and lear­ning, and the mother of freedom—her poets, her legislators, her soldiers, and her patriots, even to this day considered the brightest examples of earth­ly glory!—see her now sunk in slavery, ignorance, sloth, and imbecility, below any petty nation of Europe. Look to Rome—in her turn, the queen of arms and arts, the land of liberty, the nurse of heroes—the stage on which inflexible patriots, ac­complished philo [...]ophers, and a free people, acted for centuries a drama that elevated man almost above [Page 36] his nature!—see her now reduced to the last stage of contemptibility—even below it, to ridicule and laughter—swayed by the most contemptible impos­ture, and sunk into the most despicable enslave­ment, both of person and opinion—the offices of her glorious senate performed by a kind of hetero­clite being, an hermaphroditical imposture, who, deducing his right from the very dregs and offscour­ings of superstition and fanaticism, and aided by a set of disciples worthy of such a master, rules the people, not with the terrors of the Tarpeian rock, nor yet with that which to a Roman bo­som was more terrible, banishment—but with the horrors of eternal damnation!—see her valiant, vi­gorous soldiery converted into a band of feeble fid­lers and music-masters, and the clangor of her arms into shrill concerts of squeaking castratoes; those places where her CICERO poured forth eloquence divine, and pointed out the paths that led to true morality—where her BRUTUS and her CATO mar­shalled the forces of freedom, and raised the arm of justice against tyrants, over-run by a knavish host of ignorant, beggarly, bald-pa [...]d friars, vomi­ting, to a crowd of gaping bigots, torrents of fanatical bombast, of miracles never performed, of gods made of wood or copper, and of saints, that, like themselves, lives by imposture and deception! —see her triumphs and military trophies changed into processions of priest singing psalms round wa­fe [...] and wooden crucif [...]xes; and the code of Philo­sophy and religion, which operated so effectually up­on the morals of her people that there was none among them sound so desperate or so base as to break an oath, exchanged for the Roman Catholic branch of the Christian Faith—for dispensations for incest, indulgences for murder, fines for fornication, and an exclusive patent for adultery in their priesthood. Then look to England!—see [Page 37] her, who once stooped beneath the yoke of Rome, whose chief, CARACTACUS, was carried there in chains to grace his conqueror's triumphs, while herself was made the meanest of the Roman pro­vinces, now holding the balance of the world, the unrivalled mistress of arms, arts, commerce—every thing.

It was in this irresistible mutation of things, that Bruges sunk from the high state of a most flourish­ing city, where there are still (unless the French have destroyed them) to be seen the remains of se­venteen palaces, anciently the residences of consuls of different nations, each of which had distinct houses, magnificently built and furnished, with warehouses for their merchandises: and such was the power and wealth of the citizens in those days, that it is an indubitable fact, they kept their sove­reign, the Archduke MAXIMILIAN, prisoner, af­fronted his servants, and abused his officers; nor would they release him until he took an oath to preserve inviolate the laws of the state. Even so late as the time I was there, Bruges had some trade —indeed as good a foreign trade as most cities in Flanders. The people seemed cheerful and happy, and the markets were tolerably supplied.

Several fine canals run in a variety of directions from Bruges: by one of them, boats can go, in the course of a summer's day, to Ostend, Neuport, Furnes, and Du [...]kisk; and vessels of four hundred tuns can float in the ba [...]on of this town. Another canal leads to Ghent, another to Damme, and ano­ther to Sluys. The water of those canals is stag­nant, without the least motion; yet they can, in half an hour, be all emptied, and fresh water brought in, by means of their well-contrived slui­ces. This water, however, is never used for drink­ing, or even for culinary purposes; a better sort being conveyed through the town by pipes from the [Page 38] two rivers Lys and Scheldt, as in London; for which, as there, every house pays a certain tax.

Although the trade of this city has, like that of all the Low Countries, been gradually declining, and daily sucked into the vortices of British and Dutch commerce, there were, till the French en­tered it, many rich merchants there, who met every day at noon in the great market-place, to communi­cate and transact business, which was chiefly done in the Flemish language, hardly any one in it speak­ing French; a circumstance that by this time, is much altered—for they have been already made, if not to speak French, at least to sing Ca-ira, and dance to the tune of it too, to some purpose.

The once-famed grandeur of this city consisted chiefly, like that of all grand places in the dark periods of Popery, of the gloomy piles, the osten­tatious frippery, and unwieldy masses of wealth, accumulated by a long series of monkish imposture —of Gothic structures, of enormous size and sable aspect, filled with dreary cells, calculated to strike the souls of the ignorant and enthusiastic with holy horror, to inspire awe of the places, and venera­tion for the persons who dared to inhabit them, and, by enfeebling the reason with the mixed ope­rations of horror, wonder, and reverence, to fit the credulous for the reception of every imposi­tion, however gross in conception, or bungled in execution. Those are the things which constituted the greatness and splendor of the cities of ancient Christendom; to those has the sturdiest human vigour and intellect been forced to bend the knees: they were built to endure the outrages of time; and will stand, I am sure, long, long after their power shall have been annihilated.

What a powerful engine has superstition been, in the cunning management of priests! How lamenta­ble it is to think, that not only all who believed, [Page 39] but all who had good sense enough not to believe should, for so many centuries, have been kept in prostrate submission to the will and dominion of an old man in Rome!—My blushes for the folly and supineness of mankind, however, are lost in a warm glow of transport at the present irradiation of the human mind; and though I can scarcely think with patience of that glorious, godlike being, HENRY the Second of England, being obliged by the Pope to lash himself naked at the tomb of that saucy, wicked priest, THOMAS A BECKET, I felicitate myself with the refl [...]ct [...]on, that the Pope is now the most contemptible sovereign in Europe, and that the Papal authority, which was once the ter­ror and the scourge of the earth, is now not only not recognised, but seldom thought of, and, when thought of, only serves to excite laughter or disgust.

LETTER VII.

THE town of Bruges, although the streets be, as I have already described them, so mean, narrow, dirty, and irregular in general, con­tains, nevertheless, some few streets that are tolera­ble, and a few squares also that are far from con­temptible.—I should think it, nevertheless, not worth another letter of description, were it not that the churches, and church-curiosities, demand our attention; for you will observe, that in all rich Popish countries, every church is a holy toy-shop, or rather a museum, where pictures, statues, gold cups, silver candlesticks, diamond crucifixes, and gods, of various sorts and dimensions, are hoarded [Page 40] up, in honour of the Supreme Being. This city having been for centuries the see of a bishop, who is suffragan to the archbishop of Mecklin, and at the same time hereditary chancellor of Flanders, it is not to be wondered at, if ecclesiastical industry should have amassed some of those little trinkets which constitute the chief or only value of their church. The mitre of this place conveys to the head that wears it a diocese containing six cities, from the names of which you will be able to form some small judgment of the opulence of one poor son of abstinence and mortification.—Those cities are, in the first place, Bruges itself, then Ostend, Sluys, Damme, Middleburgh in Flanders, and Oudenberch—not to mention one hundred and thirty-three boroughs and villages; and if you could compute the number of inferior clergy with which the streets and highways are filled, you would be thunderstruck. There, and in all those Popish countries, they may be seen, with grotesque habits and bald pates, buzzing up and down like bees, in swarms, (a precious hive!)—and, with the most vehement protestations of voluntary po­verty in their mouths, and eyes uplifted to Hea­ven, scrambling for the good things of the earth with the eagerness of a pack of hounds, and the rapacity of a whole roll of lawyers! With loaded thighs (I might say, loaded arms too, for they have large pockets even in their sleeves, for the conceal­ment of moveables), they return to the great hive, where, contrary to the law of bees, the drone lives in idle state, and he plunders them: contrary, too, to the habits of those useful insects, they banish the queen bee, and suffer no female to approach their cells, but keep them in contiguous hives, where, under cover of the night, they visit them, and ful­fil in private that which they deny in public—the great command of Providence.

[Page 41]The first building in nominal rank, though by no means the first in value, is the great cathedral, which has at least bulk, antiquity, and gloominess enough to recommend it to the faithful. It is by no means unfurnished within, though not in so re­markable a manner as to induce me to fill a letter with it. In a word, it is an old Popish cathedral, and cannot be supposed wanting in wealth: at the time I write, it has been standing no less a time than nine hundred and twenty-nine years, having been built in the year 865.

The next that occurs to me, as worthy of notice, is the church of Notre Dame, or that dedicated to our Lady the Virgin MARY. This is really a beau­tiful structure of the kind—indeed magnificent. Its steeple is beyond conception stupendous, being so very high as to be seen at sea off Ostend, al­though it is not elevated in the smallest degree by any rise in the ground; for, so very flat is the whole intermediate country, that I believe it would puzzle a skilful leveller to find two feet elevation from high-water-mark at Ostend up to this city. The contents of this church are correspondent to its external appearance—being enriched and beau­tified with a vast variety of sacerdotal trinkets, and fine tombs and monuments. As to the former, the vestments of that same THOMAS A BECKET whom I mentioned in my last, make a part of the curiosi­ties deposited in this church: this furious and in­flexible impostor was archbishop of Canterbury; and his struggles to enslave both the king and peo­ple of England, and make them tributary to the Pope, have canonized him, and obtained the very honourable depot I mention for his vestments. To do justice, however, to the spirit and sagacity of the holy fathers who have so long taken the pains to preserve them, it must be commemorated, that they are, or at least were set with diamonds, and [Page 42] other precious stones! Probably, among the many priests who have, in so many centuries, had the custody of those divine relics, some one, more sa­gacious than the rest, might conceive, that, to lie in a church, and be seen by the all-believing eyes of the faithful, a little coloured glass was just as good as any precious stone, and wisely have con­verted the originals to some better purpose. If so, it will be some consolation to Holy Mother Church to reflect, that she has bilked the Sans-culottes, who certainly have got possession of Saint THOMAS A BECKET'S sacerdotal petticoats; and, if they have been sound enough to stand the cutting, have, by this time, converted them into comfortable cam­paigning breeches. O monstrous! wicked! abo­minable!—that the Royal MARY, sister to the great Emperor CHARLES the Fifth, should, so long ago as the Reformation, have bought at an immense price, and deposited in the treasury of the church of our Lady the blessed Virgin MARY, the vest­ments of a saint, only to make breeches, in the year 1794, for a French soldier! The time has been, when the bare suggestion of such sacrilege would have turned the brain of half the people of Christendom: but those things are now better managed.

Of the tombs in this church, I shall only mention two, as distinguished from the rest by their costli­ness, magnificence, and antiquity. They are made of copper, well gilt. One of them is the tomb of MARY, heiress to the Ducal House of Burgundy; and the other, that of CHARLES (commonly called the Hardy), Duke of Burgundy, her father.

In Bruges there were four great abbeys, and an amazing number of convents and nunneries. The buildings, I presume, yet stand; but there is little doubt that their contents, of every kind, have been, [Page 43] before this, put in requisition, and each part of them, of course, applied to its natural use.

The church once belonging to the Jesuits, is built in a noble style of architecture: and that of the Do­minicans has not only its external merits, but its internal value; for, besides the usual superabun­dance of rich chalices, &c. it possesses some very great curiosities—

As, first, a very curious, highly wrought pulpit —beautiful in itself, but remarkable for the top be­ing supported by wood, cut out, in the most natu­ral, deceptive manner, in the form of ropes, and which beguile the spectator the more into a belief of its reality, because it answers the purposes of ropes.

Secondly, a picture—and so extraordinary a pic­ture! Before I describe it, I must apprise you that your faith must be almost as great as that of a Spa­nish Christian to believe me—to believe that the human intellect ever sunk so low as, in the first in­stance, to conceive, and, in the next, to harbour and admire, such a piece. But I mistake—it has i [...]s merit; it is a curiosity—the demon of satire himself could not wish for a greater.

This picture, then, is the representation of a mar­riage!—but of whom? why, truly, of JESUS CHRIST with Saint CATHARINE of Sienna. Ob­serve the congruity—Saint CATHARINE of Sienna lived many centuries after the translation of JESUS CHRIST to Heaven, where he is to sit, you know, till he comes to judge the quick and the dead!— But who marries them? In truth, Saint DOMINIC, the patron of this church! The Virgin MARY joins their hands—that is not amiss—But, to crown the whole, King DAVID himself, who died so long before CHRIST was born, plays the harp at the wedding!

[Page 44]My dear FREDERICK, I shall take it as no small instance of your dutiful opinion of me to believe, that such a picture existed, and made part of the holy paraphernalia of a temple consecrated to the worship of the D [...]vinity: but I assure you it is a fact; and as I have never given you reason to sus­pect my veracity. I expect you to believe me in this instance, improbable though it seems: for such a farrago of absurdities, such a jumble of incongrui­ties, impossibilities, bulls, and anachronisms, never yet were compressed, by the human imagination, into the same narrow compass.

I protract this letter beyond my usual length, on purpose to conclude my account of Bruges, and get once more upon the road.

The monastery of the Carthusians, another order of friars, is of amazing size, covering an extent of ground not much less than a mile in circumference. The Carmelites, another order, have a church here, in which there is raised a beautiful monument, to the memory of HENRY JERMYN, Lord Dover, a peer of England—But the monastery called the Dunes, a sect of the order of Saint BERNARD, is by far the noblest in the whole city; tho cloisters and gardens are capacious and handsome; the apart­ment of the abbot is magnificent and stately, and those of the monks themselves unusually neat. Those poor mortified penitents, secluded from the pomps, the vanities, and enjoyments of life, and their thoughts no doubt resting alone on hereafter, keep, nevertheless, a sumptuous table, spread with every luxury of the season—have their country-seats, where they go a hunting, or to refresh them­selves, and actually keep their own coaches.

Among the nunneries there are two English: one of Augustinian nuns, who are all ladies of qualify, and who entertain strangers at the grate with sweet-meats and wine; the other, called the Peli­cans, [Page 45] is of a very strict order, and wear a coarse dress.

To conclude—In the chapel of Saint BASIL is said to be kept, in perfect preservation, the blood which JOSEPH of Arimathea wiped off with a sponge from the dead body of CHRIST. Finis coronat opus.

I fancy you have, by this time, had as much of miracles as you can well digest: I therefore leave you to reflect upon them and improve.

LETTER VIII.

AS I was going to the barque, at Bruges, to take my departure for Ghent, the next town in my route, I was surprised to see a number of offi­cious, busy, poor fellows, crowding round my effects, and seizing them—some my trunk, some my portmanteau. &c. I believe two or three to each: but my astonishment partly subsided when I was told that they were porters, who plied on the canal, and about the city, for subsistence, and only came to have the honour of carraying my baggage down to the vessel. Noting their eagerness, I could not help smiling. I know there are those, and I have heard of such, who would bluster at them: but my mirth at the bustling importance which the poor fellows affected, soon sunk into serious con­cern; I said within myself, "Alas, how hard must be your lot indeed!" and my imagination was in an instant back again in London, where a porter often makes you pay for a job, not in money only, but in patience also, and where the surliness of in­dependence scowls upon his brow as he does your [Page 46] work. Every one of my men demanded a remu­neration for his labour: one man could have easily done the work of five—but I resolved not to send them away discontented: he is but a sordid churl that would; and I paid them to their full satisfac­tion. Here, my dear FREDERICK, let me offer you (since it occurs) my parental advice on this point—from the practice of which you will gain more solid felicity than you can possibly be aware of now: never weigh scrupulously the value of the work of the poor; rather exceed than fall short of rewarding it: it is a very, very small thing, that will put them in good humour with you and with themselves, and relax the hard furrows of labour into the soft smile of gratitude—a smile which, to a heart of sensibility such as yours, will, of itself, ten-thousand-fold repay you, even though the fre­quent practice of it should abridge you of a few of those things called pleasures, or detract a little from the weight of your purse.

Being again seated in my barque, I set off for Ghent, a city lying at a distance of twenty-four miles from Bruges. I must here remark to you, that the company one meets in those vessels is not always of the first rank; it is generally of a mixed, motley kind: but to a man who carries along with him, through his travels, a love for his fellow-crea­tures, and a desire to see men, and their customs and manners, it is both pleasant and eligible—at least I thought it so, and enjoyed it. There were those amongst us who spoke rather loftily on that subject: I said nothing; but it brought to my mind a reflection I have often had occasion to concur in, viz. that a fastidious usurpation of dignity (happily denominated stateliness) is the never-failing mark of an upstart or a blockhead. The man of true digni­ty, self-erect and strong, needs not have recourse, for support, to the comparative wretchedness of his [Page 47] fellow-creature, or plume himself upon spurious superiority. You will understand me, however! When I say, "the man of true dignity," I am far, very far, from meaning a lord, a squire, a banker, or a general officer—I mean a man of intrinsic worth—homo emunctae naris—one who, in every station into which chance may throw him, feels firm in the consciousness of right—who can see and cherish merit, though enveloped and concealed be­hind a shabby suit of clothes—and who scorns the b [...]own-up fool of fortune, that without sense or sen­timent, without virtue, wisdom, or courage, pre­sumes to call himself great, merely because he pos­sesses a few acres of earth which he had neither the industry nor merit to earn, or because his great-great-great-grandfather purchased a title by perfidy to his country, the plunder of his fellow-citizens, or the slaughter of mankind.

Although the face of that part of the country through which we are now passing, like that of the preceding stage from Ostend to Bruges, wants di­versity, it has its charms, and would be particularly delightful in the eye of an English farmer; for it is covered with the thickest verdure on each side of the canal, and the banks are decorated all along by rows of stately trees, while the fields in the back ground are cultivated to the highest degree of perfection, and bear the aspect of producing the most abundant harvest.

You will be able to form a judgment of the trif­ling expence of travelling in this country, from my expences in this stage of twenty-four miles. I had an excellent dinner for about fifteen pence of our money; my passage cost me but sixteen more, amounting in all to two shillings and seven pence: compare that with travelling in England, where one cannot rise up from an indifferent dinner, in [Page 48] an inn, under five shillings at the least, and you must be astonished at the disproportion.

Ghent is the capital of Flanders, and is to be reckoned among the largest cities of Europe, as it covers a space of ground of not less than seven miles in circumference; but there is not above one half of that occupied with buildings, the greater part being thrown into fields, gardens, orchards, and pleasure-grounds. Situated on four navigable rivers, and intersected into no fewer than twenty-six islands by a number of canals, which afford an easy, cheap, and expeditious carriage for weighty merchandize, it may be considered, in point of local advantages for commerce, superior to most cities in Europe; while those islands are again united by about a hundred bridges, some great and some small, which contrbute much to the beauty of the city.

To a man accustomed to mould his thoughts by what he sees in Great Britain, the strong fort [...]fica­tions that surround almost all towns on the Conti­nent convey the most disagreeable sensations— [...]e­minding him of the first misery of mankind, War! — denoting, alas! too truly, the disposition of man to violate the rights of his fellow-creatures, and manifesting the tyrannous abuse of power. On me, though trained and accustomed to military ha­bits, this "dreadful note of preparation" had an unpleasing effect; for, though born, bred, and ha­bituated to the life of a soldier, I find the feelings of the citizen and the man claim a paramount right to my heart.

Ghent was once extremely well fortified, and calculated, by nature as well as by art, to repel en­croachment. It had a very strong castle, walls, and ditches; and now, though not otherwise strong, the country may, by shutting up the slui­ces, be, for above a mile round, laid in a very [Page 49] short time under water. It was formerly so popu­lous and powerful, that it declared war more than once against its sovereign, and raised amazing ar­mies. In the year 1587, it suffered dreadfully from all the ravages of famine, under which a number not less than three thousand of its inhabitants pe­rished in one week.

This town is distinguished by the nativity of two celebrated characters: one was the famous JOHN of Gaunt, son of King EDWARD the third of E [...]gland; the other, the Emperor CHARLES the Fifth, who was born there in the year 1500.

It was in this city that the Confederation of the States, well known under the title of the Pacifica­tion of Ghent, which united the Provinces in the most lasting union of interest and laws, was held: this union was chiefly owing to the vigorous, un­remitted efforts of WILLIAM the First, Prince of Orange, to whose valour and virtue may be attri­buted the independence of the United States.

In this city there were computed to be fifty com­panies of tradesmen, among whom were manufac­tured a variety of very curious and rich cloths, stuffs, and silks: it is certain, that the woollen manufac­ture flourished here before it had made the smallest progress in England, whose wool they then bought. There was also a good branch of linen manufacture here, and a pretty brisk corn trade, for which it was locally well calculated. You will observe, once for all, that in speaking of this country, I generally use the past tense; for, at present, they are utterly undone.

Ghent was the see of a bishop, who, like the bishop of Bruges, was suffragan to the archbishop of Mechlin. Thus, in most Christian countries, are the intellects, the consciences, and the cash too, of the people, shut up and hid from the light, by priest within dean, and dean within bishop—like [Page 50] a ring in the hand of a conjurer, box within box —till at last they are enveloped in the great recep­tacle of all deception, the capacious pocket of the archbishop. Let not sceptered tyrants, their legi­ons, their scaffolds, and their swords, bear all the infamy of the slavery of mankind! Opinion, opinion, under the management of fraud and im­posture, is the engine that forges their fetters!!— JANSENIUS, from whom the Jansenists took their name, was the first bishop of this place; and the late bishop, I think, may be reckoned the last.

The municipal government of this city is correct, and well calculated to secure internal peace and or­der. The chief magistrate is the high bailiff; sub­ordinate to whom are burgomasters, echivins, and counsellors.

Ghent is not deficient in stately edifices; and, true to their system, the holy fathers of the church have their share, which, in old Popish countries, is at least nineteen twentieths. In the middle of the town is a high tower, called Belfort tower: from whence there is a delightful prospect over the whole city and its environs. Monasteries and churches, there, are without number; besides hos­pitals and market-places: that called Friday's mar­ket, is the largest of all, and is adorned with a sta­tue of CHARLES the Fifth, in his imperial robes. The stad-house is a magnificent structure—So is the cathedral, under which the reverend fathers have built a subterraneous church. What deeds are those which shun the light! Why those holy patriarchs have such a desire for burying themselves, and working like moles under ground, they themselves best know, and I think it is not difficult for others to conjecture.

This cathedral, however, is well worth atten­tion, on account of some capital pictures it contains. The marble of the church is remarkably fine, and [Page 51] the altar-piece splendid beyond all possible descrip­tion; and, indeed, in all the others, there are paintings, eminent for their own excellence, and for the celebrity of the masters who painted them.

In the monastery of St. PIERRE, there is a grand library, filled with books in all languages; but it is chiefly remarkable for the superlative beauty of its ceiling, one half of which was painted by RU­BENS.

Thus you may perceive, my dear FREDERICK, the charity of the clergy!—how, in pure pity for the sins of mankind, and in paternal care of their souls, they exact from the laity some atonement for their crimes, and constrain them at least to repent —and, with unparalleled magnanimity, take upon themselves the vices, the gluttony, the avarice, and the sensuality, of which they are so careful to purge their fellow-creatures.

LETTER IX.

HAVING given you a general outline of the city of Ghent, I shall now proceed to give you an account of one of the most excellent, and certainly the most interesting, of all the curiosities in that place. It is indeed of a sort so immediately correspondent to the most exalted sensations of hu­manity, and so perfectly in unison with the most exquisitely sensible chords of the feeling heart, that I resolved to rescue it from the common lumber of the place, and give it to you in a fresh letter, when the ideas excited by my former might have faded away, and left your mind more clear for the reception of such refined impressions.

[Page 52]On one of the many bridges in Ghent stand two huge brazen images of a father and son, who ob­tained this distinguished mark of the admiration of their fellow-citizens by the following incidents:

Both the father and the son were, for some of­fence against the state, condemned to die. Some favourable circumstances appearing on the side of the son, he was granted a remission of his share of the sentence, upon certain provisions—in short, he was offered a pardon, on the most cruel and barbarous condition that ever entered into the mind of even monkish barbarity, namely, that he would become the executioner of his father! He at first resolutely refused to preserve his life by means so fatal and detestable: This is not to be wondered at; for I hope, for the honour of our nature, that there are but few, very few sorts, who would not have spurned, with abhorrence, life sustained on conditions so horrid, so unnatural. The son, though long inflexible, was at length overcome by the tears and entreaties of a fond father, who re­presented to him, at all events, his (the father's) life was forfeited, and that it would be the greatest possible consolation to him, at his last moments, to think, that in his death he was the instrument of his son's preservation. The youth consented to adopt the horrible means of recovering his life and liber­ty: he lifted the axe; but, as it was about to fall, his arm sunk nerveless, and the axe dropped from his hand! Had he as many lives as hairs, he would have yielded them all, one after the other, rather than again even conceive, much less perpetrate, such an act. Life, liberty, every thing, vanished before the dearer interests of filial affection: he fell upon his father's neck, and, embracing him, triumphantly exclaimed, "My father, my father! we will die together!" and then called for ano­ther executioner to fulfil the sentence of the law.

[Page 53]Hard must be their hearts indeed, bereft of eve­ry sentiment of virtue, every sensation of huma­nity, who could stand insensible spectators of such a scene—A sudden peal of involuntary applauses, mixed with groans and sighs, rent the air. The execution was suspended; and on a simple repre­sentation of the transaction, both were pardoned: high rewards and honours were conferred on the son; and finally, those two admirable brazen ima­ges were raised, to commemorate a transaction so honourable to human nature, and transmit it for the instruction and emulation of posterity. The statue represents the son in the very act of letting fall the axe.

Lay this to your mind, my dear FREDERICK: talk over it to your brother; indulge all the charm­ing sympathetic sensations it communicates; never let a mistaken shame, or a false idea (which some endeavour to impress) that it is unmanly to melt at the tale of woe, and sympathize with our fellow-creatures, stop the current of your sensibility—no! Be assured, that, on the contrary, it is the true criterion of manhood and valour to feel; and that the more sympathetic and sensible the heart is, the more nearly it is allied to the Divinity.

I AM now on the point of conducting you out of Austrian Flanders—One town only, and that com­paratively a small one, lying between Us and Bra­bant: the name of this town is Alost, or, as the Flemings spell it, Aelst.

From Ghent to Brussels (the next great stage in my way), I found, to my regret, that there was no conveyance by water: I therefore was obliged to go in a voiture, and stopt at Alost, as an interme­diate stage; and mathematically intermediate it is— for it lies at equal distance from Ghent and Brussels, being exactly fifteen miles from each.

[Page 54]This is a small, but exceeding neat town, situated on the river Dender; and being a remarkably great thoroughfare accommodations of every kind are to­lerably good in it. It would be idle to suppose, that Catholic zeal had left so many souls unprotected and undisciplined, where there were so many bo­dies capable of drudgery to pay for it. In truth, there has been as ample provision made for the town of Alost in the way of sacerdotal business, as for any other town in the Netherlands—regard be­ing had to its bulk; for there were several convents of friars, and of course several of nuns: besides, there was a Jesuit's college of some note. How they all fare by this time, it is difficult for me to determine.

The church of Saint MARTIN could boast of some excellent pictures, particularly a most capital piece, "La Peste," by RUBENS.

In a convent inhabited by a set of monks, deno­mined Gulielmite, I saw the tomb of THIERRY MARTIN, who first brought the art of printing from Germany to that place. His name and fame are transmitted to us by an epitaph upon his tomb, written by his friend, the ingenious Erasmus.

This tomb of THIERRY MARTIN stands a mon­ument, not only of his merit, but of the short-sigh [...]edness and folly even of monks. Alas, silly men! they little knew, that when they granted THIERRY MARTIN the honours of the convent, they were harbouring, in their hallowed ground, one of their greatest enemies, and commemorating the man who was contributing to the overthrow of their sacred order: for the art of printing, where­ever it reached, illuminated the human mind, and first kindled up that light, before which priestcraft, and all its pious impostures, like evil spectres, have vanished. To the art of printing is human society indebted for many of the advantages which it pos­sesses [Page 55] beyond the brute or savage tribes—for the perfection of arts, the extension of science, the general enlargement of the mind, and, above all, for the emancipation of person and property from the shackles of despotism, and of the human in­tellect from the fetters of blindness and ignorance with which sacerdotal fraud had chained it for cen­turies to the earth.

The territory of this city is of pretty large ex­tent, and is called a county, having, in ancient times, had counts of its own; and the whole of it is extremely fruitful in pasture, corn, hops, flax, and most other productions of those climes.

I made but a very short stay at Alost, when I proceeded on to Brussels; and, having thus brought you through that part of the Netherlands called Austrian Flanders, I think I ought to give you a general account of the country at large, as I have hitherto confined myself merely to the cities and towns of it; but as this letter is already of a length that will not allow of any great addition, I shall postpone my intended description to my next.

LETTER X.

WERE mankind to be guided by mo­deration, reason, and justice—were there no lust for territory in particular states—no ambition or desire in kings for an undue enlargement of their power—no unjustifiable infractions attempted by one state or potentate upon the peace and posses­sion of another—no armes to carry desolation and plunder through the world, nor churchmen more mild, but not more moderate, to drain them with [Page 56] their subtle deceptions—were the husbandman, the fisherman, the manufacturer, and the labourer, per­mitted to make, by their industry, the best use of the soil on which chance or nature had planted them, and to lift the fruits of their labour to their own lips—no people were more happy than the inhabitants of Austrian Flanders.

This country is bounded, to the north, by the Scheldt; to the north-west, by the Northern Sea: to the south, and south-west, by Artois, one of the finest Provinces of France; and to the east, by Brabant. Its greatest length is seventy-five miles; and its greatest breadth, fifty-five. The air is good; but it is said to be better in proportion as it recedes from the sea. The winters are sometimes long and severe, and the summers sometimes wet and sultry; yet, in general, the climate is agreea­ble. The soil is in most parts fertile, and in some to a degree equal to that of any part of Europe. It is chiefly famous for its pasturage; in conse­quence of which, great numbers of black cattle, horses and sheep, are bred in it, and immense quan­tities of butter and cheese made. It is, besides, abundantly productive of all sorts of culinary vege­tables—fruit in great quantities—corn and flax, which last is not only raised in great plenty, but is celebrated for the fineness and strength of its staple. It is true, that in some parts they have not corn sufficient for the inhabitants; but this is well re­compensed by other productions, with the redun­dance of which they purchase the superfluous grain of their neighbours—for, where the inhabitants do follow tillage, the produce is unequalled, and the superfluity must of course be great.

The superior fecundity of the sheep of this country is very remarkable, and difficult, perhaps, to be accounted for—a ewe here bringing forth constantly three lambs at a birth, sometimes four, [Page 57] sometimes five, and some have been known to pro­duce as many as six and seven—no small instance of the prodigality of nature in providing for this spot.

At some distance from the sea-coast, the face of the country is decorated with a profusion of wood, fitted either for timber or for fuel; and towards the coast, where nature has been rather niggard of that blessing, the inhabitants substitute, in its stead, for fuel, a kind of turf, which they find at the depth of four or five feet from the surface of the earth, and which makes a fire, not only cheerful, plea­sant, and hot, but remarkably wholesome, being free from the destructive sulphurious and bitumi­nous vapour attendant upon coal.

Perhaps no part of the world is better supplied than this province with all sorts of fish, as well those of sea as fresh water: fowl and venison were extremely plenty and reasonable; and a great deal of excellent beer was brewed in it. It is washed by several rivers, four of which are noble streams, namely, the Scheldt, the Lys, the Scarpe, and the Dender; and there are several canals, the chief of which is that between Bruges and Ghent.

Thus in whatever way it be considered, nature seems to have made ample provision for the happi­ness of the people: how far they are so, you shall hear when I come to give a general view of the Netherlands—that which is applicable to Austrian Flanders being equally so to all the other parts of the Netherlands, excepting those under the domi­nion of the Republic of the United States.

The States of this country, according to the con­stitution it once possessed, consisted of clergy, the nobility, and the commoners. The clergy were the bishops and abbots: the nobility was composed of certain families holding hereditary offices or [...]aronies, to which that privilege was annexed; and [Page 58] the commoners were made up of the burgomasters, pensioners and deputies of the cities and districts. But the only religion professed or tolerated in this country, was the Roman Catholic.

Of the people of Austrian Flanders a celebrated Author gives the following account, which I trans­cribe for your use, the rather as my stay there was too short to enable me to make any material obser­vations on them, or their manners.—

"With respect to the persons and characters of the inhabitants," says he, "they are, generally speaking, lusty, fat, and clumsy—very industrious, both in cultivating their lands, and in their trades and manufactures—lovers of liberty, and enemies to slavery—and not defective in good sense or judg­ment, though they have not so lively an imagina­tion as some other nations. Their women are fair, handsome enough, and honest by their natural con­stitution, as well as from a principle of virtue: as they cannot pretend to wit and repartee, they do not make themselves ridiculous by the nauseous affectation of them. Both sexes are great lovers of public diversions; and every city, town, and vil­lage, have their kermisses, or fairs, in which all sorts of shews are exhibited."

Many arts which now enrich other nations, and the importance of which has excited contests and struggles of the most serious kind in the political world, were invented or improved in that country. Weaving, in general, though not invented, was greatly improved; and the art of forming figures of all sorts in linen was first invented there. To the Flemings we are also indebted for the arts of curing herrings, dyeing cloths and stuffs, and oil-colours. But those arts, and the manufactures, have gradually slid away from them, and left but a small share behind, when compared with their former flourishing state; they have flown to a land of [Page 59] liberty and security, where hostile feet never tread, where slavery corrupteth not, where war devoureth not, no [...] Priests no [...] Despots break in and steal. Nevertheless, silk, cotton and woollen stuffs, broc­ades, camblets, tapestry, linen, and lace, are still manufactured here to some small extent.

This province had counts of its own, from the ninth century up to the year 1369, when it was made over, by marriage, (l [...]ke a farm of cattle) to the dukes of Burgundy; and afterwards, again, was by them made over, in like way of marriage, to the House of Austria. In 1667 France seized the southern part; and the States General obtained the northern, partly by the treaty of Munster, and partly by the Barrier treaty of 1715.

To reckon upon the natural endowments of this country, one would suppose that it should be a ter­restrial paradise: yet such is the wickedness of man, and the outrageous spirit of power, that it is almost the last country in Europe in which I would have property, and fix a permanent residence. Just now, while I am writing, I have before me an ac­count, that the French, to whom they have opened their gates, have plundered them to the last atom of their moveable poss [...]ssions; and that the pro­perty of the unfortunate people is now in waggons, on its way to Paris.

Once more, my boy, I say, bless your GOD, that planted you in a country cheered by the voice of freedom, defended by British valour, and, what is of more consequence, surrounded by the Ocean.

LETTER XI.

HAVING conducted you through that part of the Netherlands called Austrian Flanders, w [...] are now to direct our attention to that called Austrian Brabant, of which part, as well as of the Netherlands in general, Brussels, where I arrived the same day I left Ghent, is the capital, giving its name to a quarter or territory that surrounds it.

In all parts of the Netherlands through which I travelled, I could not help admiring the uniform decorations of the roads, rivers, and canals, with rows of lofty trees, which form a most agreeable shade from the summer's burning sun, and yet do not obstruct any great extent of prospect, the coun­try is so extremely flat. And one thing I remark­ed, and which certainty seems at first view, extra­ordinary, is, that in the great extent of country through which we have hitherto passed, from Os­tend to Brussels, being sixty-eight miles, I scarce saw one nobleman or gentleman's seat—nothing above the house of a husbandman, a curate, or some person of small fortune: and yet the country is extremely rich; and I saw many spots, as I went along, charming beyond description, and such as would tempt, I should think, a man of taste and opulence to settle in them. This must appear un­accountable to those who do not recollect, that in a country subject like this to the ravaging incursi­ons of contending armies, fortified [...]owns are con­sidered as the most pleasing, because the most se­cure retreats of opulence.

[Page 61]As I approached the city of Brussels, I was struck with a mixed sensation of surprise and de­light at the appearance it made—none that I had ever seen being comparable to it, and not one in Europe, by the account of travellers, being in that respect superior to it, Naples and Genoa only ex­cepted: like them, however, it, when entered, falls far short of the expectation raised by its ex­ternal appearance, being all composed of hills and hollows, which not only fatigue, but render the appearance of the streets, though well built, con­temptible and mean.

Brussels stands on the beautiful little river Senne, on the brow of a hill. The city is about seven miles in circumference, has seven gates, with ex­tensive suburbs, and is encompassed with a double wall made of brick, and ditches; but its size is too great for strength, as a face of defence of such ex­tent could not possibly hold out a long siege—a great and insuperable defect in such a country as I have described.

Great as is the extent of ground on which this city stands, it is nevertheless very well built, and extremely populous. It is ornamented with no fewer than seven squares, all of them remarkably fine, particularly the great square or market place, which is reckoned to be perhaps the finest in Eu­rope. Around it are the halls of the different trades, the fronts of which are adorned, in a su­perb manner, with emblematical sculpture, with gilding, and a variety of Latin inscriptions. One quarter of this square is entirely occupied by the town-houses, a noble pile of building, in which there were apartments where the States of B [...]aba [...]t me [...], [...]inely adorned with tapestry in gift frames, and some admirable original paintings. At the time I was there, the whole city was in motion, preparing for the Inauguration of the EMPEROR, who was then impatiently expected, and whose ap­proach [Page 62] made such a bustle, and promised such a spectacle, as made me regret the necessity I lay under of proceeding on my journey. The town-house was put into the highest order, and subse­quently fell a sacrifice to the great and important event for which it was prepared.

The steeple of this building is of a most stupen­dous height—three hundred and sixty-four feet; and on the top of it is erected a statue of Saint MICHAEL killing the Dragon, of the enormous height of seventeen feet: this colossal statue is so constructed as to serve for a weather-cock; and be­ing made of copper, well gilt, is at once conspi­cuous, magnificent, and ornamental.

The public buildings of Brussels, particularly the palaces and courts of the several princes, counts, and other persons of distinction, (and, you may be sure, the churches and cloisters too), are spacious, expensive, and magnificent. Behind the imperial palace, which stood in the highest part of the city, but was burnt down many years ago, is a park, well stocked with deer, and planted with trees, like St. James's-park at London, for the inhabitants to walk in. At the farther end of it is a fine pleasure-house, built by the Emperor CHARLES the fifth, after his abdication.

The palace is a magnificent structure: the rooms of it are finished in a style far superior to those of any palace in England, and enriched with many fine paintings: that of the family of HECTOR, in the council chamber, lays claim to the first rank of eminence. Of the other buildings (the grandeur of which entitle them to the names of palaces), those of the Prince de la Tour and Taxis, and the British Earl of Aylesbury, are distingushed by great beauty and magnificence. Indeed, in all the pala­ces, there are collections of original paintings, by the most eminent masters, both Italian and Flemish.

[Page 63]The royal library of Brussels claims particular at­tention, for the magnitude and liberality of its establishment, containing a grand collection of the most excellent books in all languages, and being open all the year on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, to public access.

The ar [...]enal of Brussels is extremely well worth going to see, on account of the very curious antique arms it contains—of which it is, at this distance of time, impossible for me to give you any account worth attention. The armour of the Emperor CHARLES the Fifth, together with the furniture of his horse, and state sword, are shewn: I could see nothing either novel or interesting in them—a strong mark I presume, of my want of taste; but I confess my organs are not so refined as to feel any extraordinary emotions at the sight of a heap of i [...]ert matter, mearly because it once enveloped the carcase of a tyrant: neither were they so very coarse or dull as not to undergo very pointed sensa­tions at the sight of the armour of MONTEZUMA, the injured Emperor of Mexico, the victim of ava­rice and rapine, under their usual mask, religion. Why MONTEZUMA'S armour should make a part of the trophies of a Popish state, and be triumphantly exhibited, is hard to account for in human folly: why that should be exhibited which is a stain of the deepest-damned black, in their black code of faith, is astonishing, unless we allow the truth of the old saying, "Quos DEUS vult perdere, prius dementat;" and that, after having violated every principle of virtue, morality, and human feeling— after having surpassed in cruelty all that we know of the worst monsters of the earth, or of the deep, the fell hyena, or the ravening shark—after hav­ing successfully emulated the worst efforts of the most malignant spirits that are said to hold counsel for the ruin of mankind in hell—they were desir­ous to transmit the spoils of their ravages to pos­terity, [Page 64] to tell them what glorious things have been atchieved in days of yore, for the love of CHRIST —to demonstrate what benefits are to be derived from a religion which has, for so many hundred years, given sanction to every enormity that strikes the soul of man with horror, and thereby to make converts to their principles. Monsters! fools! Away with your idle cants, ye hypocrites, who would brand the cruelties of the present days, the massacres of the Jacobins, with the crime of infi­delity, and attribute those much lamented defec­tions from humanity to a falling off from the Chris­tian faith. Look to Mexico!—see a monster, a high priest of your religion, collecting, by fair pro­mises and sweet pursuasion, a people round him; and, when a plain was filled, commanding his blood-hounds, armed with sword and crucifix, to fall upon and murder them—because one poor creature, who knew not what a book meant, had acciden­tally dropped a bible from his hands!—see him not sparing age or sex, but butchering all, for the love of CHRIST!—When have the deluded and en­frenzied mob of France perpetrated, in the full torrent of popular frenzy, such atrocities as this cruel priest committed in cold blood? when have they hunted down their follow creatures, massacred children, and given their yet panting members to their dogs for food, as pious Christians, headed by a pious priest, have done in Mexico? Never! ne­ver! —Learn wisdom, then, ye hypocrites! and if you cannot convince your enemies by reason, or conquer them by force, and if their predatory and wicked progress is not to be stopped, do not sanc­tify their enormities, or palliate their crimes, in the eye of reason, by a comparison with those of a deeper dye: remember, that "not to be the worst stands in some rank of praise," and that the Jaco­bin cruelties of Paris, horrible though they were, were pity and tender mercy, compared with the [Page 65] Christian butchery in Mexico, in Europe, in Asia, in every place where Popery ever set its bloody hoof.

You are not, from what I say, to infer that I entertain any illiberal animosity to Popery, as many men, and more women, do, merely because its ar­ticles of faith differ from those in which I was bred; I trust my heart and understanding are above such very degrading prejudices: but I abhor every thing that militates against human happiness—every thing that crushes the operations of intellect—every thing that stops the current of opinion, and pre­vents its course from enlarging and meliorating our condition: I abhor the impertinent and hypocriti­cal intrusion of all churchmen upon national or do­mestic concerns; the more, when that intrusion is mischievous; and more still, when it assumes the mask of piety—for that is at once a fraud upon man and an abuse of GOD. All those causes of abhor­rence attach, more or less, to all sects of the Chris­tian religion, the Quakers only excepted—but to Popery rather more than to any of the others; for it is observed, that while the very first principles of Christianity, as originally laid down in theory, are peace and good-will towards men, warfare, per­secution, and bloodshed, have practically marked its footsteps wherever it has trod, and its very essence been perverted by its own ministers, who, entrusted with the key of the temple, steal the vestments from the alter, to cover the deformed, crookrd back of vice. But the rays of dawning reason now break with fuller light upon mankind; and it has­tens to meridian resplendence, before which those phantoms raised by pious jugglers will vanish, and, "like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck behind."

LETTER XII.

IN the arsenal of Brussels was another cu­riosity, which I overlooked in my last—a model of a cannon, constructed so as to throw seven balls at once. It is some consolation to philanthropy to re­flect, that of all the abominable engines and instru­ments which the inventive faculties of man have discovered to increase the cruelty and carnage of war, not one has been of late times adopted. This model lies here, therefore, only as a memorial of the diabolical genius of the inventor.

The opera-house of Brussels, accounted the no­blest and largest in Europe, is built after the Italian manner, with rows of lodges or closets, in most of which are chimneys. One of those, which belong­ed to a prince, whose title I now forget, was hung with looking-glasses, in which, while he sat by the fire, took refreshments, or reclined on his couch, he could see the whole representation, without be­ing exposed to the view of either the actors or the audience.

The markets of Brussels are very remarkable. The dukes of St. Pierre paid no less than forty thousand florins, or upwards of three thousand pounds Sterling, for four pictures of them, painted by RUBENS and SYNDER—LEWIS the Fourteenth of France offered an immense sum of money for them; but they found their way at last into the collection of the British Earl of Orford. The va­lue of them is said, by connoisseurs, to be beyond computation.

Brussels is extremely well supplied with water: for, besides the river, it has twenty public foun­tains, [Page 67] adorned with statues, at the corners of the most public streets; and the lower part of the city is cut into canals, which communicate with the great one, extending from Brussels to the Scheldt, fifteen miles: by means of this canal, which was finished in 1561, and cost the city eight hundred thousand florins, a person may sail from Brussels to the North Sea; and barques do actually go twice a-day to Antwerp, and back again.

This city is full of churches, of which the most remarkable is that of Saint MICHAEL and Saint GUDULA, commonly called the cathedral. It is a superb, old Gothic structure, and, from its celebra­ted situation, a most beautiful ornament to the city. It is not only grand in its external appearance, but finely adorned within. The pillars which support the roof are lofty and elegant: and against each is a statue of ten feet in height. There are no less than sixteen chapels in it; and each chapel is en­riched with abundance of splendid ornaments, altar finery, candle-sticks, crucifixes, &c. and with some excellent pictures too: a picture of JESUS CHRIST presenting the keys of Paradise to Saint PETER, which is reckoned among the chef-d'oeuvres of RUBENS, hangs in one of those chapels. There are some monuments, also, of very great merit, in the choir of this church. But that which I think by far the greatest and most admirable curiosity (I mean of human workmanship) in the church, is a pulpit—one of the richest and most exquisitely wrought pieces I have ever seen: at the bottom are seen ADAM and EVE as large as life, represented as at the moment when the angel drove them out of Paradise: in both of their faces are deeply and ex­pressively marked the traits of a mind agonised with anguish and remorse: behind EVE is a figure of Death, which follows them; and on the top of the pulpit are seen the figures of JESUS CHRIST and the Virgin MARY crushing the head of the [Page 68] Serpent. The strong expressions in the faces of all those figures, and the exquisite turn of the workmanship. is the more remarkable, as it is all cut out of oak wood.

Of supernatural curiosities, one of the chapels in this cathedral contains some, that, for miracle, yield to none in the long catalogue of monkish de­vices. Three hosts or wafers are daily worshipped by the people; which hosts or wafers, the priests firmly assert, and the people as firmly believe, were, so long ago as the year 1369, stabbed by a Jew, and bled profusely. They are exposed on every festival, in a chalice richly set with diamonds; and on the first Sunday after every thirteenth of July, there is a yearly procession in memory of this stab­bing and bleeding, when the hosts are carried in great state round the city, embellished with all man­ner of precious stones, and attended by all the clergy, secular and regular, the magistrates, the courts of justice, and even by the governor of the province: the chapel where they are kept is of marble, and the altar of solid silver.

Great GOD! what an opprobium to the human understanding, that, at the time when the mind of man is sufficiently enlightened to avoid the weak­ness of shameful credulity, a whole people should stoop to such extravagant imposition! what a shame to justice and honesty, that those who are trusted to guard the rights of a people, and who certainly are too well informed to yield their belief to such trash, should yet join in, and give the weight of their authority to so gross, so wicked a deception on a community! The magistrates, the courts of justice, and the governor—they walk, too, in company with the bald-pated impostors—Good GOD! can more be said? volumes of comment could not elucidate or render it more conspicuously absurd than the bare recital of the fact itself.

[Page 69]It is impossible for me to recount to you the num­ber of nunneries, of various orders, in which un­fortunate women were cloistered up, some from bigotry, and others by force, in this city. There were, however, two of them English—one of Do­minican ladies, founded by Cardinal HOWARD, in the reign of CHARLES the Second, of which a lady of the noble House of Norfolk was always abbess: the other is of Benedictine nuns; the Beguinage of the latter is like a little town, surrounded with a wall and ditch, and divided into pretty little streets, where every Beguine has her apartment; the num­ber of them amounts in general to seven or eight hundred, sometimes more.

If population be the true strength of a nation, this part, of Popery is very impolitic. The suc­cession of women in this one convent since the reign of CHARLES the Second, must amount to many thousands. Had those been married, and, on an average, had only two children each, with the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, down to the present day, in all the ramifications of descent, there is no doubt but their number would equal that of the whole people of some extensive provinces. What, then, must be the loss to the po­pulation of the earth, arising from the celibacy of so many millions of males and females as have been consigned to sterility in the catholic countries, ever since that extraordinary doctrine came first into fashion? It is out of the reach of calculation: not but, now and then, they may have children—indeed they certainly have but those are generally disposed of in a way not to bring shame on the frail Sister­hood, or their Confessors.

In wading through such a torrent of offensive ideas as the innumerable absurdities and deceptions of Popish countries continually raise in the mind, it is a pleasing circumstance to be relieved by the contemplation of some really useful, humane insti­tution; [Page 70] and such a one presents itself now to my recollection: At Brussels, and, I am told, at all great towns of the Netherlands, there is a public office for lending money at a very moderate interest upon pledge [...]: it is called the Mount of Piety; and was established nearly 108 years ago by the Archduke, ALBERT, and ISABELLA, his wife. By this institution, the poor are saved from the fleecings and frauds of pawn-brokers: and to ren­der it still more perfect in accommodation, there are private passages for entrance: so that those who would wish to conceal their necessities, are exempt­ed from the mortification of being seen publicly going in, or coming out.

You have read, I presume, that in the days of Heathenism, the Deities of that curious Mythology were supposed to rejoice in the number Three. The Popish Code has fixed upon Seven as the lucky number. Thus they have seven sacraments, seven deadly sins, &c. &c. Brussels has improved upon that; and, taking the hint from their blessed liturgy, has seven grand streets; seven parish-churches; seven Patrician families, out of which the Magistrates are or were elected; seven large squares; seven midwives, licensed and sworn by the Senate; and seven gates, leading to seven pla­ces of recreations and exercise, one to a place pro­per for fowling, a second to a place for fishing, a third to one far hunting, a fourth to pleasant fields, a fifth to pastime grounds, a sixth to springs and vineyards, and a seventh to gardens. Besides all which sevens, they boast of having once had the great good fortune of entertaining, at one time, seven crowned heads, with seven thousand horse belonging to their retinue. If there were any spell in the number Seven, the people of Brussels sure­ly must have been secure from all mischief; but the Sans-Culottes have broken the charm, dispersed the [Page 71] necromancers, and lowered poor number Seven to its mere arithmetical value.

The inns, or eating houses, in this city, were equal to any in the world: a stranger might dine there better and cheaper than in any place perhaps, on earth. The wines, also, were excellent and cheap; and coach-hire beyond expectation reasona­ble —And here I recollect to remark to you, that, all the way from [...]end to Brussels, one is obliged to [...], dine, &c. in bed-chambers; a circumstance which is extremely [...]cord [...]nt [...]o the feelings of those who have been [...] to Bri [...]sh inns▪ although the bed-chambers are▪ to [...]ay the [...] large and com­modious. At the ve [...]y [...]lls of [...] begins the famous wood of So [...]e, from which the inhabitants were allowed to cut wood for fuel: as fast as the trees were cut down, fresh ones were planted in their stead; by which means the wood was pre­served, and it afforded a continual supply to the poor.

Brussels is so very remarkable a place, that I have taken more than my usual scope of description of it. Just as I had finished it, I read a paragraph in the public papers. stating that it is likely to be annexed to the territories of the French Republic.

LETTER XIII.

HITHERTO, as I have proceeded on my travels, I have been purposely very particular in my descriptions of the towns through which I passed on my way to India, in order to give your mind a disposition to inquiry, and point out to you an overflowing source of improvement and delight. Having so far shewn you how amply you will be [Page 72] rewarded, even in amusement, by the trouble of searching into books, for the accurate topographical descriptions of towns, cities, buildings, &c. &c. I think I may spare myself that labour for the fu­ture, and confine myself to those points that more immediately apply to the enlargement of the mind —I mean, the government, laws, manners, and character of the people of each country; and only use the former as subservient to the latter purpose, at least until I come to those places where, the ground being but little trodden by British feet, more precise description may become necessary.

But, before I leave the Netherlands, I must make a few remarks upon the country and people, which it would be unpardonable in me to omit, after having been already so minutely particular in things of inferior merit to the scope of my plan.

Although personal appearance be, in the eye of Moral Philosophy, a very inferior consideration, and mind the proper study of man; yet in describ­ing a people, I cannot think it altogether unneces­sary to include their personal appearance, as it will be found that there exists a greater analogy between the person and the mind of men than is generally perceived. Thus the lively hilarity, the restless activity, the levity and fantastic character of the French, are strongly pourtrayed in the national person. In like manner, the lofty, fat, clumsy and m [...]shapen person of the people of the Nether­lands, is strongly [...]lustrative of the temper and ha­bit of their mind. int [...]cts and spirits: industri­ous and h [...]vy; [...] of understanding, but not de­fective in judgment; slow in work—but, persever­ing in effort, and [...]ing in the process, they are generally successful in the end: in war, cold and backward at o [...]ensive operations, but inflexible and terrible in resistance; like the boar of the forest, the [...] seek not the combat with any, but will not go out of their way to decline it with the most [Page 73] powerful: their appetites and desires coole [...] [...] other nations, but less subject to change or capri [...]: never violently in love, but rationally attached to their wives; and both men and women faithful to their conjugal vow, as well from natural tempera­ment, as from a principle of virtue.

Thus constituted by nature, the effects of their industry are wonderful in every thing, but chiefly in their canals and sluices, which serve not only for the support of their commerce, and the facility of intercourse, but for their defence against ene­mies: this was in other times; but, alas! the for­mer of these uses, commerce, has so entirely ab­sorbed all their intellect, and possessed their very souls, that they seem almost entirely negligent of the latter; and from being, of all people, the most wise and vigilant in determining and ascertaining their rights, the most zealous asserters and defenders of their independence, the most ardent friends to liberty, and the most determined enemies to slavery, they are become a sort of strange, inconsistent, hotch-potch politicians, whom ingenuity itself would find a difficulty in describing. They retain so much of their ancient and noble vigilance as serves to make them suspicious—so much of their independence as disposes them to change—so much of their jealousy as stimulates them to resistance—but not one parti­cle of their former wisdom, to instruct them where they should attach themselves, where resist, or where resolve to act—nor of their courage to carry any re­solution they might form into effect.

In the year 1781, the Emperor JOSEPH the Se­cond came to Brussels, in order to indulge his pa­ternal feelings as a monarch with the contemplation and view of his subjects, and also to be inaugurated; and perhaps upon no occasion that has ever occur­red in the most volatile nation, was there greater joy more universally expressed. For some time be­fore his arrival, the whole country was in motion, [Page 74] and, even with them, domestic industry stopped its usual persevering pace, suspended in the eager, anxious expectation of his arrival. Every thing in the birth, education, natural disposition and person of the young Emperor, united to impress his sub­jects with the most exalted opinion of his goodness, and to inspire all ranks of people with the most fortunate presages of a wise and beneficent govern­ment. Nor did he disappoint them: his conduct, when among them, is handed over to remembrance, by a variety of acts of benevolence and condescen­sion, which showed that the grandeur of the mo­narch had not made him forget the nature of the man, and that his heart was better fitted for the mild, domestic enjoyments of a subject, than the stern and unbending hardihood fit for a King: for I am perfectly of opinion with the celebrated JU­NIUS, that there are virtues in a private man which are vices in a King; and that the monarch of a country, in order to preserve respect, should avoid familiarity, and keep his person sacred from too general observation. SHAKSPEARE has put into the mouth of his HENRY the Fourth, a beautiful ex­pression on this subject, well worth the attention of Kings—

Of the number I have heard, I will mention one anecdote only, and one remarkably expression of JOSEPH'S, which will serve to shew in its true light what his disposition was; and when you con­sider them as the act and sentiment of a young man [Page 75] nursed in the lap of despotism and pride, you can­not but consider them as marvellous.

In his journey to the low countries, he visited Wurtzaurg; and, in his perambulating alone and incog, stopped at a little public-house, where the people were busily employed in entertaining them­selves: he went in, and inquired why they were so merry—"Sir," said one of the country people, "we are celebrating a marriage." "May I be permitted to join the company?" said the disguised Emperor. The host obtained that permission for him. When he entered the room, the married couple were presented to him, and he received them with great gaiety, sat down, drank their health, and, having informed himself of their si­tuation, took leave of the company: but what was their astonishment, when, on lifting up a bottle of wine, they found a draft for six hundred florins, signed JOSEPH, and payable for the use of the married couple.

At Luxembourg, when the people called aloud on Heaven to shower down blessings on him for his affability, he made use of this remarkable expressi­on, while his feelings moistened his eyes: "I wish I could make you as happy in my care, as I am in your affection!"

The affability of monarchs has often been magni­fied by the foolish, and often blamed by the wise: But, if all the instances of eondescension practised by kings were like that I have recited of JOSEPH; if they arose from a sound, unquestionable spirit of philanthropy, not from gaping curiosity, broad fol­ly, or a peurile inquisitive habit; and if, instead of conceiving those they visit paid for their intru­sion with the honour of having conversed with ma­jesty, and leaving them churlishly, they would ge­nerously pay them with hard cash, as the good Em­peror JOSEPH did; then, indeed, their affability [Page 76] might defy the exaggeration of fools, and must cer­tainly command the applause of the wise.

On the 13th of July, the ceremony of inaugura­tion took place at Brussels. Nothing could equal the splendour of the place but the general joy of the people: the crowds were beyond all conception immense, and every thing was carried on with re­gularity till evening, when, in playing off some fire-works, that noble building the town-house took fire, and was burnt: six unfortunate persons lost their lives, and twenty were dangerously hurt­ed: those who perished were absolutely roasted, and their cries were beyond description piercing. To such a temper as JOSEPH'S, you will readily conclude that this must be a most afflicting circum­stance —it was so; and he left Brussels under the pre [...]re of very different feelings from those with which he entered it, and was followed by the pray­ers and blessings of all the people.

But now we are to view the reverse of the me­dal. The sound of their prayers for his welfare, and praises of his goodness, had hardly died away upon their lips, ere their minds turned to revolt and rebellion. I will not say that they were not right in one or other, or which of those two ex­tremes: certainly they could not be right in both; much less can their subsequent conduct be justified, or accounted for, in any principle of human nature, but that of the most abject meanness, dastardly fee­bleness, and gross folly. They returned to their allegiance, and besought forgiveness: that forgive­ness was granted. How they have behaved since, I have already informed you, (see Letter IV.); and I have now to add, that, pillaged by the French, and likely to be left unprotected, they have again held their necks out, soliciting the protection and the yoke of Austria, and have actually offered to raise 100,000 men for the Emperor, if he will again [Page 77] drive the French out of their territories—An ex­cellent word that IF!

How a people, once formed for manly pith and love of freedom, could bend so low, is unaccount­able. It is a question hard to be determined, whe­ther an obstinate adherence even to a bad cause, is not more respectable, than a fickle, alternate dere­liction, and adoption of right and wrong, as it suits the caprice or convenience of the moment? Of two things so very contemptible, I think the for­mer the least odious and least unmanly.

At the same time, my observations on the coun­try led me to conceive, that under the name of freedom, they groaned under the yoke of tyranny; for, though the country was, as I have described it, charming, its fecundity unsurpassed, its face deco­rated with the best gifts of Providence—I mean, smiling fields and bleating plains—though Ceres profusely repaid the labours of the husbandman, though every field had the appearance of a garden, and though, upon inquiry, I found that land which would bring in England five pounds an acre, rented at eight, nine, and ten shillings of our money at most—yet, in spite of all this, the farmers were rather poor in general—not even one of them to be found rich and substantial, like the middle rank of that class of men in England. They wanted the great stimulus to industry—security of their pro­perty: they were liable to be turned out by their landlords at pleasure, and be plundered when it should please some monarch to make war.

The first of these, however, you will observe, is not the oppression of the Emperor: it is a tyranny of that worst of all constituent parts of a state, an aristocracy—a vile aristocracy!—that universal, that every-day despotism, under which all places groan, more or less—which is exercised in all the various gradations of life that chequer society, from the great man who, under the name of minister, domi­neers [Page 78] over the peer, to the country fox-hunting sa­vage, who puts a poor wretch in jail to pine for years, (his family, the while, supported by the pa­rish charity). only for doing that which makes the enjoyment of his own life, killing a partridge or a hare!—that aristocratic tyranny which is seen scowling on the brows of a swaggering fellow in power, adopted by his secretary with increase, by him handed down to an upstart set of fellows in office, dependent on his smile, and by them dis­played in all the nauseous, despicable forms which awkwardness and ignorance lifted above their stati­ons, never fail to assume—the cold reserve, the af­fected stare, the liftless nod, the feigned deafness, blindness, absence, and other fashionable perfecti­ons, which serve as vents for upstart arrogance, and indemnify the sycophant for the vile homage and submission which he has before paid some wretch, mean and arrogant as himself!—I tell you, my dear FREDERICK, it is this aristocratic usurpation of power, where power exists not, nor is necessary— this insulting assumption of superiority, this hidden petty oppression which rears its head in every manor, nay, almost every town and village in the kingdom, that put the nations out of tune, mars the harmony of social arrangement, and renders power in the aggregate obnoxious. Why, our very wo­men have their saucy, aristocratic, supercilious front, their haughty stare, their contemptuous tit­ter; and barter the winning softness of the sex, the dimples where the loves should dwell, for the haughty to [...]s of the head, the ill-natured sneer, and the insulting Hector's frown—And thus the spirit of aristocracy, like a poisonous weed, grows and expands from one to the other with baleful luxuri­ance, gradually overspreading the whole face of hu­manity, stopping the wholesome current of the soci­al atmosphere, and choaking up the less rank but [Page 79] more useful plants—Thus it goes round in shameful traffic; and, as the poet says,

I am persuaded, that if the grievances of the most despotic states were fairily estimated, and as­signed to their real authors, the princes of such states would be found responsible for a very small share indeed, when compared with the aristocracy: and by aristocracy, I mean not merely lords, but all men who convert the wealth which Providence has be­stowed upon them to the purposes of tyranny, exac­tions, imposition and oppression—under which four heads we will again find, not only imprisonment for begging alms, imprisonment for shooting a par­tridge, but often seduction, adultery, and persecu­tion for resisting or resorting to law for punishment of that seduction or adultery. Of all those things, the proofs, I fear, in all nations, are abundant: I am sure they are so in the best governed state in Europe—I mean, England— ‘"Qui capit, ille facit."’

I have thrown up a fool's cap: how many are there who wi [...] privately put it on!

LETTER XIV.

AS the time of my departure from Brus­sels pproached, I found the bitter sensations with which I left London, in some measure, returning. [Page 80] My fortunate encounter with General LOCKHART had afforded me a temporary respite; but [...] now I was once more to face an unknown country alone, without the chance of again meeting a friend to so­lace my mind, or mitigate my woe, on this side of India.

Having seen as much of Brussels as my time and occasions would at all allow, and, in truth, having rather trespassed on my plan, for the reasons just mentioned, I determined to push forward as fast as it was possible, and took post for Liege, where I arrived, after passing through a beautiful, fertile, well-cultivated country, to the charms of which the renewed agony of my feelings redered me al­most insensible.

As we have now almost the whole length of Germany before us to travel through, it will be proper, before I proceed further, to give you a ge­neral idea of the constitution of this vest empire— over all which, while one great monarch nominally presides, there are spread a number of petty poten­tates, who really rule after as distinct forms of go­vernment as almost any two governments, however remote in Europe.

Considering the nature of government abstracted­ly, one would suppose that it arose from the general will of the society governed, and was formed for their use and benefit alone: but if we view the dif­ferent systems scattered over the civilized part of the earth, we shall find that they originated from force and fraud; and that, in their first formation, when bodily prowess, not intellectual power, bore sway—when he that could carry the strongest ar­mour, and strike the heaviest blows, was sure to govern—when mere animal strength and ferocity disinherited reason of her rights, and robbed her of that ascendency to which the invention of gunpowder, aided by the art of printing, has since in some sort restored her—the basis upon which [Page 81] governments were raised was, one man, not the whole society; the point then was, how this or that strong ruffian could collect most slaves about him, not how this or that society should choose the best head: if he has strength to carry havoc through the ranks of their enemies, and then to overawe them­selves, he was sure of dominion over the people, and left it to his son; but if it so happened that he did not also bequeath to him bodily prowess to preserve it, the next strong ruffian seized the reins, flung him from his seat and kept it till he, or some one of his heirs, was again served so in his turn by some other usurper. Hence arose the cabals and intrigues of courts, the spirit of party, and intestine commo­tion; till at length the people, for their own secu­rity, and to avoid the horrors of civil war, made choice (from dismal necessity) of some one family to rule them. As society advanced, and opulence held forth temptation, some greater ruffian, follow­ed by a horde of needy, famished barbarians, made incursions on those rulers; and being irresistible, as well from numbers firmly connected, as from the powerful impulse of necessity, under whose banners they generally robbed and ravaged, was submitted to on terms, and became Lord Paramount of a num­ber of petty sovereigns, who did homage to him, and fleeced the miserable subjects, to keep him in humour; and thus, in a series of time, the power of both took root, and remained immoveable, unless when torn up by some violent tempest that convus­ed the state, and shook it to its foundations.

Reading this account, you will very naturally ex­claim, "Good GOD! how absurd! how irrational!" Yet so it is; and from this source, muddy though it be, is modern honour, and modern greatness, and modern high blood, derived: from this foul and turbid fountain have most of the governments of the world issued; from those strong men of yore have most of our modern governors descended: and as it [Page 82] generally happens (so equally has Providence dis­tributed the gifts of nature) that the strength of the intellectual part is in the inverse ratio of the ani­mal, perhaps that is the reason why monarchs are formed, in general, of greater bodily vigour than mental endowments, and better fitted for the field than the cabinet—and for this reason are obliged to take from the puisne ranks of their subjects some assistant, so far removed from the great standard of antique dignity, as to possess understanding enough to govern.

Upon a retrospective view of the History of Eu­rope, it will be found, that for a long time after the birth of CHRIST, Germany was divided among such petty rulers as I have described, who each held his little state in sovereignty, and was called Princeps in Latin, or, in plain English, Prince. After the downfal of the Western Empire, a nation called Franks, from that part called Franconia, over-ran a great part of Gaul and Germany, and in the fifth century took possession of that part of Gaul which lay north of the river Loire. In the year 800, CHARLEMAGNE, the son of PEPIN, their king, formed an immense empire in the west, comprehending a great part of Germany, France, Italy, and a part of Spain. About eighty years af­terwards, the petty princes of Germany shook off the French Carlovinian race, and elected an em­peror of their own from the House of Bavaria.

At last HENRY the Fourth, having displeased that grand arbiter the Pope, was put under the ban, and in consequence deposed by the states; on which occasion his Holiness had the address to make that great dignity elective, he having uncontroled pow­er over the electors; since which it has continued so, with some modifications, and under certain re­gulations, formed by CHARLES the Fourth, at the diet of Nuremberg. The election, however, has been always so managed, that it has never departed [Page 83] from the regular line of succession but when there was an actual want of heirs.

In a country over which the Pope had such in­fluence, it might reasonably be supposed that into­lerance is carried to a great length; but it is not so, as a review of each particular state shews. The estalished religion, in general, is Popery. JOSEPH the Second, that good and wise monarh, displayed a greater spirit of toleration than any other Catholic prince since HENRY the Fourth of France. He was not murdered by a friar for it, it is true—those days of pious barbarity are past; but he was visi­ted on the occasion by his Holiness, who, after a variety of remonstrances against the relaxation he gave to religious severity in his own dominions, finding him unmoved by papers, resolved to attack him in person; but, whether it was that the pon­tifical amulet lost its charm when out of the air of Rome, or that his Holiness was not properly anointed before (like Hecate in Macbeth) he took his flight, or that he forgot some of those reliques which were expected to operate on JOSEPH'S mind, so it was, that the good emperor continued inflexi­bly attached to his former resolve; and, after kiss­ing his Holiness' toe, and a thousand other pretty politenesses, sent him back to Rome again with his finger in his mouth; and a story to relate. that would, at one time, have set all Europe in a flame, and sent the good monarch, like HENRY the Se­cond of England, to lash himself naked over the rotten remains of some vagabond fraudulent priest.

In the election of emperor, the laws of the em­pire have laid down no qualification but that which ought to be the fine qua non of all princes, namely, that he be justus, bonus, et utilis—Neither have they made any limitation in regard to religion, nation, state, or age; nevertheless, the majority of electors being Papists, a Roman Catholic prince is always chosen.

[Page 84]The rank of the emperor is very great: he is looked upon by all crowned heads as the first Euro­pean potentate; and▪ as such, precedence is always given him and his ambassadors: he is the supreme head of the German empire; but his powe [...] in the administration thereof is very limited indeed. In ancient times. the emperor had considerable do­mains and incomes; but warfare and prodigality have dissipated the greatest part of them, and they have been successively alienated or mortgaged, so that his revenues were very inconsiderable lately, and now, since the French war, are almost as nothing.

The present emperor FRANCIS found the empire, when he was elected, incumbent with difficulties of the most enormous magnitude—a war on which the existence of every monarchy in Europe seemed to depend, an exhausted treasury, and a disposition to revolt in a part of his dominions, the Netherlands. At this present time, his situation is, beyond that of every other prince, lamentable:—almost all his re­sources gone, and an insolent, formidable, triumph­ant enemy, proceeding and carrying conquest by rapid strides through his country. He called upon his people to support him. The states of the Ne­therlands, instead of assisting him to stop the pro­gress of the enemy, invited and opened their gates to them, put them in their bosom, and were stung. Of the other states, some refuse their aid, while some have recourse to feeble expedients; and, to evade the weight, temporise, procrastinate, and shuf­fle, till at length will come the French army, and force them to do for their enemy ten times more than (if done timely, and with a good grace) might save the empire and themselves. The KING of PRUSSIA, one of those states, on being called up­on, says he is busily employed in securing the plun­der of Poland, and cannot come—while the tyger is glutting in the blood of the harmless flocks, the [Page 85] huntsmen are coming upon him, to cut him off. As an Englishman, zealous for the welfare of my country, I wish the KING of PRUSSIA may not, by his attention to Poland, sacrifice all Germany to the French. As an honest man, I cannot help en­tertaining a wish, that the scandalous and outrage­ous wrongs done to Poland, and this treachery to the allies whom he himself brought into the present difficulties, may be expiated by any calamity, how­ever great, that does not extend to the interest or wellbeing of Europe.

It is a maxim in courts of equity, that a man coming to demand redress, should come with clean hands, and, seeking equity, should do equity. This maxim has unfortunately never yet extended to decisions between states: power is their right, and force decides—Yet, in a contest like the pre­sent, the very foundation of which is hostility to kings, and which is carried on in the twofold way of arms, in the open field, and private negociation for insurrection; when, for the interest of the cause they espouse, as well as their own personal safety, kings should assume at once their best form to appreciate themselves, and discredit their ene­mies in the eyes of mankind—in such a state of things, I say, for the KING of PRUSSIA and the EMPRESS of RUSSIA to take the part they have done with regard to Poland, is so extravagant, that we can only account for it in the will of the AL­MIGHTY predisposing them for some extraordinary cri [...]s. No one would expect them to depart from their accustomed crooked path of policy, if safety did not loudly call upon them to proceed in the direct road. It is monstrous to see beings endowed with common sense, expending themselves in an unjust struggle for aggrandizement, while the sword of extinction is suspended by a hair over their heads.

[Page 86]But to return—in this state is the young emperor at this moment, deserted by his people in the Low Countries, unaided by his Continental ally, and supported only by Great Britain. What the issue may be, GOD alone can tell: but every one pos­sessing a heart of feeling, or a single sentiment of honour or justice, must wish that young prince a fortunate delivery from the difficulties which the impolicy and wickedness of others have led him in­to, and which the treachery of some of them make more formidable, if not utterly insuperable.

LETTER XV.

THE various districts or territories into which Germany is divided, go under a variety of designations, not known among us as independent titles to power—principalities, seigniories, counties, electorates, margravates, and bishoprics lay and spi­ritual. Of the lay bishoprics, Osnaburg, the prince bishop of which is our DUKE of YORK, makes one: and Liege, where we are now arrived is the territory of a bishop lay and spiritual, or spiritual and temporal, one of the fairest kind of that class —for he possesses temporalities, and enjoys them; whereas their lordships merely spiritual, enjoy and have the ingratitude and impudence to renounce them: but no matter for that; the bishop of Liege possesses a bishopric, fruitful in corn, wine, wood, and pasture, with air extremely pleasant and tem­perate; and while the latter gives his terrestrial clay health and appetite, the former afford him the means of preserving the one, and indulging the other, with true spiritual comfort, and high eccle­siastical voluptuousness. In cases of repletion, too, [Page 87] the mineral waters of the bishopric, particularly the well-known one of Spa, offer their aid; and some of the best beer in the world, which is brew­ed in these territories diversifies his spiritual Lord­ship's cup, and, with its pungent bitter, sends back his palate to his wine with renovated relish.

It is astonishing how inconsistent with them­selves, and how discordant in their constituent prin­ciples, some very wise institutions are. Thus epis­copacy, and all other branches, posts or ranks, high or low, commissioned or non-commissioned, of the church, publicly and systematically profess poverty, abstinence, and an utter indifference to temporal concerns, while their livings are enormous, and, themselves overfed. Nay, so cautiously has eccle­siastical law provided for that, even in our liberal establishments, that a bishop, at his instalment, po­sitively declares, in the face of GOD, at the holy altar, that he is averse to being a bishop— nolo epis­copari —Under such conditions, what must not the charity, the condescension, the mortifying submis­sion of a divine be, to stoop to a bishopric, and suffer such a heavy load to be heaped upon his back—against his will! Assuredly, the imposing a bishopric upon him must be a great act of violence on his inclinations: for I cannot think it possible that a Christian divine would, in the first place, commit the crime of simony by seeking preferment, and gaining it by prostitution; much less can I be­lieve that he would be guilty, at the holy altar, of a solemn act of perjury, by swearing nolo episcopari, if he was not actually, and bonâ fidê, averse to a bishopric.

The bishop of Liege, however, may be fairly acquitted on the score of his temporal half, for the share of transgressions committed by his spiritual half. And unquestionably, as a Christian divine, he must groan in spiritual humiliation, when he reflects that his title is emblazoned with the gorge­ous [Page 88] vanities of prince of Liege, duke of Bouillon, marquis of Franchemont, count of Looz, &c. Such a set of proud worldly titles are of themselves suf­ficient (putting the wine and beer, and repletion, out of the question) to annihilate the spiritual me­rits of the bishop, and expunge the grace of GOD from his name here, if not from himself hereafter.

Of all kinds of slavery, that nation groans be­neath the worst, which has the name, without the essence, of a free constitution; and Germany abounds with such. By the constitution of this bishopric, the government consists of three states, the first is the chapter of Liege; the second, the nobility; and the third, the deputies of the towns and capital. These, however, are very seldom call­ed together, except to raise taxes, or on some such extraordinary emergency: but there is a committee of the states who meet three times a-week, and in time of war daily; they are always about the prince bishop, to make remonstrances, and demand the redress of grievances—from whence we may rea­sonably infer, that the people are well protected, or at least well governed; the continual intercourse between the committee and bishops, no doubt, tending to promote a very happy influence in fa­vour of the people!

In forming this constitution, special care has been taken to give the first state a great preponderance. The chapter is to consist of sixty persons, who must either prove their nobility for four generations, both by father and mother, or have been doctors or licentiates of divinity for seven years, or of law for five years, in some famous university, before they can be admitted.

How is it that the profession of the law should bear such potent sway in almost all countries—that even in Liege, a Catholic country and ecclesiastical government, five years study of the law should be deemed an equal qualification of seven of divinity? [Page 89] In England, and its dependencies, the ascendancy of the law is still greater; and even in America, that profession is the first step to state honours. The truth is, that the science of the law, which, however despicable in practice, is the noblest of human sciences, quickens and invigorates the un­derstanding more than all the other kinds of learn­ing put together; while the study of divinity (I do not mean real divinity or morality, but that whimsical jumble of miracles and incongruities, of fulsome cant and senseless rhapsody, called so by churchmen) contracts the understanding, and bends it into a kind of crooked cunning. Formerly, the clergy were the dispensers of the laws, and they alone studied it—Happy times! happy people! When the united powers of both lawyers and priests were lodged in the same person, it is no wonder that they were able to enslave the persons, when they had got possession of the understanding, of the people—that we at this day see so many stu­pendous monuments remaining of their pride and power, and that the bloated load of episcopacy still has its votaries and supporters.

The bishopric of Liege is very populous and ex­tensive, containing many large towns, many baro­nies and seigniories, seventeen abbeys for men, who must be all gentlemen, and eleven for ladies, ex­clusive of swarms of inferior note. In this distri­bution of the abbeys, male and female, I do not think that sufficient regard has been had to equality of numbers: I really think the fathers have been ill used. The ladies, though, I dare say, are well enough contented with the arrangement.

Although, as I have already apprized you, I do not mean to enter into a minute description of towns, so very easily found in many volumes of geography and history, there occasionally occur cer­tain curiosities in some of those towns, which it would be unpardonable in me to pass over, as they [Page 90] may not perhaps be found in such books of those sciences as fall in your way.

Liege, the capital of the bishopric, is unquesti­onably a beautiful city, of immense size: its opu­lence, its pleasantness, its plenty, and salubrity, may be calculated from the name it has long been expressly called by way of eminence— the Paradise of Priests.—Indeed, it must needs be a holy and happy city; for it is chiefly occupied with con­vents, churches, and other religious foundations.

The Paradise of Priests!—Excellent! Why, if the genius of sensuality himself were to torture his invention for centuries, to strike out an appella­tion for the grand emporium of luxury, voluptu­ousness, and sensual enjoyment, he could not have hit on one so singularly appropriate as the Paradise of Priests.

In a grand cathedral here, are five great silver chests full of reliques, besides several silver statues of saints; and a Saint GEORGE on horseback, of massy gold; and in Saint WILLIAM'S Convent, without the city, is the tomb of the famous English traveller, Sir JOHN MANDEVILLE, from whom all lying travellers have been since proverbially called Mandevilles—an appellation which, I pro­mise you, I will hazard the imputation of dulness rather than incur. I suppose it was for his truly priestlike powers in the marvellous that he was ho­noured with a birth among their reverences. They have thought it necessary, however, to entreat, by an inscription in bad French, all persons who see it, to pray for his soul. In truth, poor Sir JOHN'S marvellous stories were as harmless as ever were invented, and entertaining to boot. If so much could be said for their reverences, they might ven­ture to rest their future safety on their own inno­cence and GOD'S mercy: but I fear their miracles cut deeper, and will be found to go to a much more important and serious account.

[Page 91]In the bishopric of Liege, twenty miles from the capital, stands the famous town of Spa. so re­nowned for its excellent waters, that it has become a vulgar name for almost all mineral waters whatso­ever. Those are said to open obstructions, concoct crudities, dry up excessive moisture, and strengthen the nerves and bowels; and such is their reputa­tion, that prodigious quantities of them are carried into foreign countries.

Fortunate coincidence, to have such a choice and easy panacea for intemperance attached to the Para­dise of Priests!

LETTER XVI.

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE—The imperial city of Aix-la-Chapelle, by the Germans called Achen, lies at the distance of twenty-six miles, nearly east, of Liege. As it was a moderate stage, the weather fine, and the face of the country around beautiful, I found my journey extremely pleasant, and entered that famous city in as good a disposition to be pleased with it, as circumstances and reflections so melan­choly as mine (which, in spite of every effort, would intrude themselves) may be supposed to allow. It is certainly a very fine city, and well deserves the reputation it has in all parts of the world.

Perhaps no city in Germany has a fairer claim to antiquity than Aix-la-Chapelle; for it was famous, even, in the time of the ancient Romans▪ for its waters, and was by them called Aquasgranum, or Urbs Aqu [...]nsus. It was destroyed by the H [...]s, who, like the French now, destroyed and tr [...]mpled under foot every vestige of refinement, wherever [Page 92] they carried their conquests; and it lay in ruins till it was rebuilt by CHARLEMAGNE, who made it the seat of his empire on this side of the Alps. By him it was ordained, the kings of the Romans should be crowned there: and it has been famous, since that time, for councils and treaties, particu­larly that famous one between France and Spain in 1663, and another lately between France and Great Britain.

Although there are many Protestants, both Lu­therans and Calvinists, in this city, they are obli­liged to go to church two miles off, at a place called Vaels, in the dutchy of Limburg; so that Popery prevails with some portion of its intolerance. Here, as in all other places subject to its power, it has raised the Gothic gloomy pile, accumulated enor­mous masses of wealth, and hoarded up treasures, under the gulling pretexts of religious parapherna­lia: a golden casket, set with precious stones of inestimable value, is hoarded up, not for the actual value of the moveable, but as the only fit recepta­cle for a relique it contains—a curious one, too, even of its kind—a bit of earth!—A bit of earth? yes! a bit of earth, common earth!—only with this fortunate circumstance in addition, that a drop of the blood of Saint STEPHEN fell, or is said to have fallen, upon it, as he was stoned to death! think of that, master FREDERICK! Why, when those things occur to me, I feel myself agitated by a whimsical tumult of sensations, serious and ludi­crous, sorrowful and merry, that it is impossible to describe—something like that state in which the spirits flutter when a person whimpers between a laugh and cry. But, to carry the matter farther, when we recollect that some of the wisest and brightest of mankind, some of the bravest warriors, sternest philosophers, and ablest statesmen, that ever existed, have been the dupes of those shallow artificers, and actually have knelt in devout homage [Page 93] to these bits of earth, bone, sticks, and stone, &c. we must allow that it answers a great and noble end, by pointing out to us the infirmity of our nature, and shewing us, to use the words of one of our brightest luminaries, "what shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue!"

We have already had, and are likely yet to have such a clumsy load of cathedrals to attend to, that I should not mention that of Aix-la-Chapelle (a large, gloomy, dreary, old-fashioned, Gothic pile), were i [...] not that it carries along with it some matters worthy of notice. What think you, then, of an emperor, a pope, and three hundred and sixty-five bishops, in one company? Oh! precious assem­blage! But where, I hear you ask—where, in the name of GOD, collect the bishops? a pope and emperor are easily had! My dear FREDERICK, three hundred and sixty-five bishops might easily be picked up in Christendom, and leave more behind, too, than would serve any useful purpose to the world.—Yes, the Emperor CHARLEMAGNE, and three hundred and sixty-five bishops, were present at the consecration of this cathedral by Pope LEO the Third. That emperor lies now in great state under the altar of the choir: Pope LEO rots in Rome; and for the bishops, they are gone, per­haps, as Hamlet says, "to stop a beer barrel."—

From such a splendid and opulent attendance at the consecration, one would naturally expect that this cathedral would have been, at the very outlet, enriched with costly and valuable trappings: but no—one image of that of Liege would purchase the whole. It should be recollected, however, that they were all, excepting the emperor, Churchmen —a class, whose charity, generally speaking, has, like a ring, neither end nor beginning; or at least [Page 94] ends and begins in itself, where nobody can see it; or, according to the old proverb, begins at home.

To compensate, however, for those worldly, worthless vanities, gold, silver, and jewels, his Holiness, and their three hundred and sixty-five Graces, presented the cathedral with some exqui­site pieces of relique, of more inestimable value, by their account, than the mines of Potosi or Gol­conda: the first, an old covering—it would be folly for me to say, whether gown, petticoat, or shift— but they, that is to say, the priests, say, and the faithful believe them, that it was the shift worn by the Virgin MARY at the birth of CHRIST—how their Holinesses came by it, is hard to conjecture: —in the next place, a piece of coarse cloth, which, they also say, and are believed when they say, was girt about CHRIST on the cross: thirdly, a piece of cord, with which they say he was bound:— fourthly, some of the blood of Saint STEPHEN, now eighteen hundred years old;—and, fifthly, a picture of the Virgin and Child, embossed on a j [...]sper, by Saint LUKE. With all due deference to their Reverences' knowledge, I should think a do­zen statues in gold of the apostles would be rather a more valuable gift, and more ornamental, than these rags and cords, which I dare say did not cost altogether six pence. We talk here of our blue ribbons, our red ribbons, and our stars as great do­nations; but I think the presents of the Pope and three hundred and sixty-five bishops to the cathe­dral of Aix-la-Chapelle, beat them out of the field, whether we consider the magnificence of the gift, or the generosity of the givers.

But that which, above all things, renders Aix-la-Chapelle worthy of notice, is the salubrity of its waters, which bring from England, and all other European nations, a vast concourse of valetudina­rians, who contribute at once to the gaiety and opulence of the city and adjacent country. Some [Page 95] of those waters are used for drinking, and others for bathing, resembling very much, in their qua­lity, the virtues of those of Bath in Somersetshire, but that some of them are still hotter and stronger: they are unpleasant to the taste till use reconciles the palate to them, and most of them have a very offensive smell; but they are often powerful in effect, and give relief in a great variety of mala­dies; and they are rendered still more palatable by the commodious neatness of the baths, the excel­lence of the accommodations, and the great plenty of provisions, which are at once good and reasona­ble in this city.

I staid to short a time at Aix-la-Chapelle, that I could not, without the aid of some of the miracles wrought by the saints of the Romish church, or Sir JOHN MANDEVILLE, acquire a sufficient knowledge of the people, to attempt a description of them, or their manners—but it and Spa are so well known, that you cannot have much trouble in finding a description of them already written.

As far as my observations enabled me to judge, there was nothing in the German character that had the power either to create interest, or excite great attention.—They are rather to be approved than admired; and, wanting those prominent features that so whimsically chequer other nations with the extremes of bad and good, majestic and ridiculous, afford little subject to the traveller for the indul­gence of sentimental reflection, or to the philosopher for the exercise of moral speculation.

LETTER XVII.

BIDDING adieu to the famous city of Aix-la-Chapelle, which, very untraveller-like, I passed without drinking of its waters. I pushed on, and soon arrived at the city of Juliers, the capital of a dutchy of that name, sixteen miles from Aix. The country itself is wonderfully fruitful, teeming with abundance of all sorts of corn, wood, pasture, woad, coal, and cattle; above all, a most excellent breed of horses, of which great numbers are ex­ported.

As to the city, though a capital, there was no­thing in it that I thought worth attention—that of neatness is its greatest praise. It is not, like Liege, overloaded with enormous church edifices; but, what is much better, the people are opulent, the poor well supplied, and all happy. In all likeli­hood, this is owing to the inhabitants being a mix­ture of Protestant and Roman Catholic; for, by a treaty between the Elector Palatine and the Em­peror of Brandenburg, respecting the succession of the territories of the Duke of Cleves, both the Lutherans and Calvinists of this dutchy, and of Berg, are to enjoy the public exercise of their reli­gion, and all other religious rites.

If experience would allow us to wonder at any thing in the management of the rulers of nations, it must surely be matter of astonishment, that in an article of such consequence as eternity, and which must be directed by private sentiments alone, such violence should systematically be offered to opinion, and that mankind should be dragooned, as they have been for so many weary centuries, into [Page 97] the profession of particular modes of faith. Com­bating opinion by force is so absurd, that I am sure those who attempted it, never could flatter them­selves with the sl [...]ghtest hopes of success. It is therefore clear, that it was in motives very different from real wishes for the eternal welfare of man's soul, that religious persecution originated. Politi­cal finesse and state stratagem are the parents of persecution: and until every constitution is clean purged of religious prejudices, it must continue to be clogged with obstructions, and involved in con­fusion. If it be objected that certain religious sects are hostile to certain states, it may be answered, that they are so because the state is hostile to them. Cease to persecute, and they will cease to be hos­tile — Sublata causa tollitur effectus. It is folly, broad folly, to suppose that there are in any parti­cular religion, seeds of hostility to government, any more than in any particular name, complexion, stature, or colour of the hair. Put, for experi­ment, all the men in the kingdom, of above five feet ten inches high, under tests and disqualifica­tions, (and it would be full as rational as any other tests)—and, my life for it, they would become hostile▪ and very justly, too; for there is no prin­ciple, human or divine, that enforces our attach­ment to that government which refuses us protec­tion, much less to that which brands us with dis­qualifications, and stigmatises us with unmerited marks of inferiority.

The states of this dutchy, and that of Berg, con­sist of the nobility and the deputies of the four chief towns of each; and they lay claim to great privileges in their diets—but they are subject to the Elector Palatine, to whom they annually grant a certain sum for the ordinary charges of the govern­ment, besides another which bears the name of a free gift.

[Page 98]"Some authors say that this town was founded by JULIUS; others deny it; the dispute has run high, and is impossible to be determined: fortunately, however, for mankind, it does not signify a straw who built it; nor could the decision of the ques­tion answer any one end that I know, of instruction, profit, or entertainment. Parva leves capiunt animos. Those who rack their brains, or rather their heads, for brains they can have none, with such finical impertinent inquiries, should be punished with mor­tification and disappointment, for the misuse of their time. But what else can they do? You say, Why, yes; they might sit idle, and refrain from wasting paper with such execrable stuff; and that would be better. By the bye, if there were two good friends in every library in Europe, licensed to purge it, like the Barber and Curate in Don Quixotte, of all its useless and mischievous stuff, many, many shelves that now groan under heavy weights would stand empty.

Travelling over a very even road, and a country extremely flat, (for from Aix-la-Chapelle I met with but one hill), I arrived at Cologne, the capi­tal, not only of the archbishopric of that name, but of the Circle of the Lower Rhine. My spirits, which were not in the very best tone, were not at all raised on entering the city, by the ringing of church-bells, of all tones and sizes, in every quar­ter. Being a stranger, I thought it had been a re­joicing day; but, on inquiry, found that it was the constant practice. Never, in my life, had I heard such an infernal clatter: never before had I seen any thing so gloomy and melancholy—the streets black—dismal bells tolling—bald-pated friars, in myriads, trailing their long black forms through the streets, moulding their faces into every shape that art had enabled them to assume, in order to excite commiseration, and begging alms with a melancholy song calculated for the purpose, somewhat like that [Page 99] of our blind beggars in London, and productive of the same disagreeable effect upon the spirits. In short, I was not an hour in Cologne, when those circumstances, conspiring with the insuperable melancholy of my mind, made me wish myself out of it.

Nevertheless, Cologne is a fine city; and if it be any satisfaction to you to spin those fine imaginary ligaments that, in the brain of the book-worm, con­nect the ancient and modern world, I will inform you, that it was anciently called Colonia Agrippina, because AGRIPPINA, the mother of NERO, was born there, and honored it with a Roman colony, because it was her birth-place. The mind, forced back to that period, and contemplating the mis­chiefs of that monster NERO, cannot help wishing that Cologne had been burnt the nigth of her birth, and Miss AGRIPPINA buried in the ruins, ere she had lived to give birth to that scourge of the world.

Although the established religion here be the Roman Catholic, extraordinary as it may appear, they are very jealous of power; and though the elector, by his officers, administers justice in all criminal causes, they will not permit him, in per­son, to reside above three days at a time in the city, nor to bring a great train with him when he visits it; for this reason he commonly resides at Bonne.

Cologne has a very considerable trade, particularly in Rhenish wine; and its gin is reckoned the best in the world, and bears a higher price than any other in all the nations of Europe.

Like all great Roman Catholic cities, it has a profusion of churches, crosses, miracles, saints, and church trinkets; and I really think it has more steeples and bells than any two cities in Germany. As Liege was called the Paradise of Priests, this ought to be called the Golgotha of Skulls and Skull-caps. In the church of Saint URSULA, they shew, or pretend at least to shew, the bones of [Page 100] eleven thousand virgin martyrs. The skulls of some of those imaginary virgins are in silver cases, and others in skull-caps, of cloth, of gold, and velvet. And in the church of Saint GERION, are no less than nine hundred heads of Moorish cavaliers, of the army of the Emperor CONSTANTINE, (previ­ous to that saint's conversion to Christianity), who they say was beheaded for refusing to sacrifice to idols: by the bye, the Popish divines burn, instead of beheading, for not sacrificing to idols—Every one of those heads, however, has a cap of scarlet, adorned with pearls. The whole forms a spectacle no doubt equally agreeable and edifying. It struck me, however, as an extremely ludicious sight, mal­g [...] the solemnity of so many death's he [...]ds: and when their story was recounted, I could not help internally chuckling, and saying (rather punningly, to be [...]). "Ah! what blockheads ye must have been, to suffer yourselves to be separated from your snug warm bodies, rather than drop down and wor­ship an idol, in which so many good Christian di­vines have shewn you an example!" This, you will conclude, I said to myself: an avowal of my sentiments in that place might have given my head a title to a scarlet cap and pearls; and as I had some further use for it, I did not think it expedient to leave it behind me in the church of Saint GERION —so, very prudently, kept my mind to myself.

Coming out of the church, a multitude of beg­gars, all in canonicals, or student's habits, sur­rounded, beseeching me for alms—one, pour l'amour de DIEU; another, pour l'amour de la Sainte Vierge; a third, pour le salut de no [...]e Redemp­teur; a fourth, pour l'amour de Saint GERION; and so on!

When I had gone as far as I wished in donations, another attacked me: though I told him my cha­rity-bank was exhausted, he persevered, and was uncommonly solicitous—till at length, having ex­hausted [Page 101] the whole catalogue of saints that are to be found in the calendar, he raised his voice from the miserable whine of petition, and exclaimed with great energy, "Par les neuf cent tetes des Cavaliers Maures qui sont santifies au Ciel, je vous conjure de me faire l'aumone!" This was too formidable an appeal to be slighted; and so, in homage to the skulls and red caps, I put my hand in my pocket, and stopped his clamours.

Those miserable modes of peculation are the most pardonable of any produced by the church: we have no right to regret a trifle sacrificed at the shrine of compassion, even when that compassion is mistaken; but our reason revolts at imposition, when it calls coercion to its aid, and assumes the name of right.

Without any national predilection, which you know I am above, I think our church affairs in Scotland are arranged upon a better system than any other that I know of: hence their clergy are in general examples worthy of imitation, for learning, piety, and moral conduct.

LETTER XVIII.

LABOURED investigations to establish connections between the history of the ancient and business of the modern world, and virulent disputes about trifles of antiquity, such as in what year this place was built, or that great man was born, when and where JULIUS CAESAR landed in England, whether he passed this road or that, what route HANNIBAL took over the Alps. and such like, are so essentially uninteresting, useless, and unimpor­tant, so unprofitable, and, one would think, so [Page 102] painful too▪ that it is wonderful how so many men of great learning have been unwise enough to em­ploy their lives in the research.

It does not follow, however, that when informa­tion that tends to recall to our minds the great men of antiquity is presented to us, we should reject it. A man of classical taste and education feels a delight in those little memorials of what gave him pleasure in his youth. I know a gentleman, who, being at Seville; in Spain, travelled to Cordova, for no other purpose but to see the town where LUCAN and SE­NECA were born: and I dare say, that if you were at Cologne, you would be much pleased to see the town-house, a great Gothic building, which, con­tains a variety of ancient inscriptions; the first to commemorate the kindness of JULIUS CAESAR to the Ubii, who inhabited this place, and of whom you have found mention made by him in his Com­mentaries, and also his building two wooden bridges over the Rhine: a second commemorates AUGUS­TUS sending a colony here. There is also a cross-bow of whalebone, twelve feet long, eight broad, and four inches thick, which they who speak of it conjecture to have belonged to the Emperor MAXI­MIN. There are also some Roman inscriptions in the arsenal, the import of which I now forget.

It is very extraordinary, but certainly a fact, that there are, about Cologne, families yet existing, who indulge the senseless ambition of pretending to be descended from the ancient Romans, and who actu­ally produce their genealogies, carried down from the first time this city was made a colony of the Roman empire. Of all kinds of vanity, this is perhaps the most extravagant; for, if antiquity merely be the object, all are equally high, since all must have originated from the same stock; and if it be the pride of belonging to a particular family who were distinguished for valour or virtue, a claim which often only serves to prove the degeneracy of [Page 103] the claimant, it could not apply in the case of a whole people: but this is among the frailties of humanity; and we are often so dazzled with the splendour of terrestrial glory, that we endeavour to be allied to it even by the most remote and ridicu­lous connections. I heard of a man, whose pride and boast, when drunk, was, that Dean SWIFT had once thrown his mother's oysters (she was an oyster-wench) about the street, and then gave her half a crown as an atonement for the injury. On the strength of this affinity did he call the Dean nothing but Cousin Jonathan, though the Dean was dead before he was born!

But of all the stories I have ever heard as illu­strative of this strange ambition, that which the late Lord ANSON has left us is the most striking. When that great man was travelling in the East▪ he hired a vessel to visit the island of Tenedos▪ his pilot, a modern Greek, pointing to a bay as they sailed along, exclaimed in great triumph, "There, [...]ay, there it was that our fleet lay."—"What fleet?" interrogated ANSON—"Why, our Grecian fleet, at the siege of Troy," returned the pilot.

While those doughty descendants of the ancient Romans indulge the cheerless idea of their great and illustrious line of ancient ancestry, the prince who rules them felicitates himself with the more substantial dignities and emoluments of his modern offices. As elector and archbishop of Cologne, he has dominion over a large, fruitful, and opulent country: he is the most powerful of the ecclesiasti­cal electors: he has many suffragan princes, lay and spiritual, under him: and he is archchancellor of the Holy Roman Empire. The revenues of his archbishopric amount annually to one hundred and thirty thousand pounds Sterling; and as elector, he is poss [...]ssed of several other great benefices. I pre­sume, because he is a prince, that he is a man of sense; and, I will venture to say, that, as such, he [Page 104] would not barter those good things for the power to demonstrate that LUCRETIA was his aunt, BRU­TUS his grandfather, and the great JULIUS CAESAR himself his cousin-german.

CHRIST chose his disciples out of fishermen. The Chapter of Cologne is, perhaps, on the contrary, the very most aristocratic body existing, being com­posed of forty canons, who are princes or counts of the empire—Of those, twenty-five choose the archbishop, and many advance one of their own body to that great and wealthy dignity, if they please.

From Cologne I proceeded to the town of Bonne, which is said to take its name from the pleasantness of its situation. Here the elector resides, and has a very fine palace. The country around is extremely fruitful and pleasant, and is blessed with most of the good things which render the rich magnificent and happy, and remind the poor of their inferiority and wretchedness—particularly wine, which is here re­markably excellent. It contains churches, priests, convents, cloisters, &c.; but I need not mention them—what place could exist without them?

I should not forget to tell you, that, at this place, JULIUS CAESAR built one of his bridges across the Rhine—works which would have handed down to posterity the name of a common man, for the mag­nitude of the structure and ingenuity of the contri­vance, but are lost in the crowd of astonishing talents which distinguished that brightest of morals. The greatest biographer of antiquity says of him, that he was as great a general as HANNIBAL, as great an orator as CICERO, and as great a politician as AU­GUSTUS; but it might be added, that he was among the first poets of his day—that he was of the first mechanical genius, and the finest gentleman, in Rome.

Nature seems to have formed, in CAESAR, a com­pendious union of all human talents, as if to de­monstrate [Page 105] how unavailing they were when opposed to strict rigid honesty and virtue in the character of BRUTUS.

To go from Bonne to Frankfort, there are two ways—one over the mountains of Wetterania, the other up the river Rhine. I made no hesitation to adopt the latter, and was rewarded for my choice with the view of as sine a country, inhabited by as fine a race of people, as I had ever seen. Valleys filled with herds, plains enamelled with corn-fields, and the hills covered with vineyards, regaled the eye, and conveyed to the mind all the felicitating ideas of plenty, natural opulence, and true prospe­rity. My anxiety, however, to get forward, and disengage myself from a species of solitude in a country where, though travelling is cheap, accom­modations of most kinds in the public houses are bad, induced me to push on, without taking the time necessary for making accurate observations on the country as I passed; so that, gliding, as it were, imperceptibly, through a number of towns, of which I recollect nothing distinctly but the names of Coblentz and Mentz, I arrived at the great, free, and imperial city of Frankfort on the Maine.

Here I shall stop, for a short time, my relation, in order to give you time for just reflection and ex­amination of what I have already written: and as, in the latter part of it, I have skimmed very lightly over the country, I desire that you will supply the deficiency of my information by close research in books; inform yourself of the great outlines of the Germanic Constitution; look back to its origin, its progress, and its establishment; thence proceed to the district parts, or inferior states, of which it is composed; ponder them all well; and from those draw your own inferences, and let me hear what they are with freedom: should they be wrong, I will endeavour to set them right; but should they be right, they will afford me the most lively satis­faction; [Page 106] for they will serve to correct one of the greatest errors under which youth labours—an over-weening, sanguine imagination, that things in this life are, or at least can be modelled into perfection; whereas experience, and a just observation of the history of mankind, will shew, that on this ball things will never be as they ought, but must remain as they are—imperfect.

LETTER XIX.

THE country about Frankfort is delight­ful, rich and fruitful, and watered by the beautiful river Maine, which divides the city into two parts, that on the north being called Frankfort, and that on the south, Saxenhausen, from the Saxons, who are supposed to have been the founders of it. The city itself is large, populous, and rich, and distin­guished for being the place where the emperor and king of the Romans is elected—though, by the ap­pointment of CHARLEMAGNE, Cologne has a supe­rior claim to that honor. The magistrates, and great part of the inhabitants, are Lutherans or Calvinists; notwithstanding which, most of the churches are in the hands of the Roman Catholics—a laudable in­stance of the true tolerant spirit of a wise and virtu­ous institution, and a heavy reflection upon, as well as a noble example to the Popish Powers of Europe.

The territory belonging to Frankfort is of very considerable extent; and the trade carried on through it, by means of the rivers Rhine and Maine, of very great importance, not only to the country itself, but to other commercial nations, and particularly to Great Britain, whose manufactures [Page 107] are sent to Frankfort, and thence circulated through the Continent. in amazing quantities.

The fairs of Frankfort are talked of all over Eu­rope —of such importance are they in the world of commerce. They are held, one at Easter, and ano­ther in September, and continue for three weeks, during which time the resort of people there from all quarters is astonishing. Every thing is done by the government to render them as attractive to mer­chants as possible; and taxes or duties are extremely low—a bale of the value of ten or twenty thousand crowns paying duty only about ten or eleven pence of our money. All commodities from all parts of the world are sold there, and circulated through the empire; but, particularly, books are sold in prodi­gious quantities. After the fairs are over, the shops of the foreign merchants are shut up, and their names written over their doors.

To give an idea of the great importance these fairs are to commerce, I need only mention, that in the present war, the impediments thrown by the French in the way of the transit of goods up the Rhine, and the shutting up that fair, gave a most alarming paralysis to the manufacturing establish­ments of England, and a shock to public credit in consequence, that would, but for the timely inter­ference of Parliament, have, in all probability, been fatal to the national credit.

Frankfort is in many respects a pleasant place: the merchants are extremely convivial and sociable, and form clubs, where they meet to drink tea and coffee, and play at cards. There is a playhouse also, a great number of coffee-houses, and other houses of entertainment in abundance. The coun­try around is covered with woods and vineyards, and the circumjacent villages are very pleasant, and well supplied with houses of entertainment, to which the inhabitants of the city resort in the [Page 108] Summer season: and the inns in Frankfort are excellent.

A singular custom prevails here, which I think worth mentioning: Taverns are denoted by pine­trees planted before the doors of them; and the different prices of the wines in their cellars are marked in ciphers on the door-posts.

In the town here is presented the original Gol­den Bull, or Pope's Authority, which contains the rules and orders to be observed at the election of the Emperors. The Golden Bull is never shown to strangers but in the presence of two of the coun­cil and the [...]ecretary—It is a little manuscript in q [...] to, consisting of forty-two leaves of parch­ment, with a gold seal of three inches diameter, of the value of twenty ducats, hung to it by a cord of yellow silk. It is said to be written in Latin and Gothic characters, without diphthongs; and kept in a black box together with two written transla­tions of it into the German language.

It is said of Frankfort, that the Roman Catholics possess the churches, the Lutherans the dignities, and the Calvinists the riches. It is therefore one of the few places in Christendom where the churches and the riches do not go into the same hands.

From Frankfort to Augsburgh, I passed through a number of towns, all of them so very inconsider­able as not to merit any particular description. The way lies from the Palatinate though the Circle of Suabia. In the extreme end of the Palatinate, and immediately before entering the Dutchy of Wir­temberg, the country is covered with fir-trees, and money is so scarce in it, that a loaf of wheaten bread, weighing eight pounds, costs but two pence.

This city of Augsburgh is the capital of a bish­opric of that name in the Circle of Suabia, and is worthy of the attention of the classical traveller for its antiquity. About twelve years before the birth [Page 109] of CHRIST, AUGUSTUS CAESAR subdued all this country, and, on the place where Augsburgh now stands, formed a colony, gave the town the name of Augusta Vindelicorum, and put it under the government of DRUSUS the brother of TIBERIUS, afterwards emperor of Rome. The inhabitants of this place were the Vindelici, a branch of the Illyrians. But, ancient though it be, it has little more of antiquity to entitle it to notice than the bare name; for it has been pillaged so often, par­ticularly by that monster ATTILA, that there are scarcely any remains of its antiquity to be found.

Augsburgh, is now, however a handsome city— the public buildings in general magnificent, and adorned with fountains, water engines of a curious construction, and statues.

The most rich and splendid part of the town belongs to a family of the name of FUGGERS (ori­ginaly descended from a weaver), who enriched themselves by commerce, and one of whom render­ed not only himself, but the whole family, conspi­cuous, by entertaining the emperor CHARLES the Fifth in a superb manner, and supplying him with money, and then throwing his bond into the fire; in return for which, the emperor, made him a count of the empire.

This city is remarkable for goldsmiths' ware; and its mechanics are equal to any in the world, for works in gold, ivory, clocks, and time-pieces; and they engrave better than any people in Germany, which brings them considerable profits. But what they are, above all other people, eminent for, is the manufacturing steel-chains so prodigiously fine, that when one of them, of a span in length, has been put about the neck of a flea, it lifts up the whole of it as it leaps; and yet those are sold for less than a shilling of our money a piece.

Controversy, and difference in rel [...]gious opinions▪ which has almost, ever since the commencement of [Page 110] Christianity, disgraced the human understanding, and defaced society, imposes upon the liberal, well-thinking traveller, the office of satirist but too often. Augsburgh, however, is a splendid ex­ception, and holds up a most glorious spectacle of manly sense, generous sentiment, justice, and I will say policy too, vanquishing that shark-jawed enemy of mankind, bigotry. The magistracy of Augs­burgh is composed of about an equal number of Protestants and Roman Catholics—their senate con­sisting of twenty-three Roman Catholics and twenty-two Lutherans, and their common Council of a hundred and fifty of each: The executive power is lodged in the senate—the legislative authority in both bodies. But, what is hardly to be found any where, they all, as well as the people, agree toge­ther in the most perfect harmony, notwithstanding the difference of religion; and at all tables but the communion table, they associate together, dip in the same dish, and drink of the same cup, as if they had never heard of the odious distinction of Papist and Protestant, but as being bound to each other by the great and irrefragable bond of humanity: fellow-creatures, affected by the same feelings, impelled by the same passions, labouring under the same neces­sities, and heirs to the same sufferings, their means of assuaging the one, gratifying or resisting another, and supplying the third, are the same, though che­quered and varied a little in the mode—the road alone different, the ends alike. Is it not cruel, then—is it not intolerable, that the calamities inse­parable from humanity should be aggravated with artificial stings, and the nakedness of human nature exposed, and rendered more offensive, by factitious calamities of human contrivance? Cursed were those who first fomented those disputes, and cast those apples of discord through the world: blind were they who first were seduced from the paths of peace by them; and more cursed, and more [Page 111] blind, must they be, who, in this time of intellect and illumination, continue on the one hand, to keep up a system so wicked and so detestable, or, on the other, to submit to error at once so foolish and so fatal.

LETTER XX.

FOR the reasons mentioned in my last, Augsburgh is a most agreeable place to live in. Touched with the sensations natural to a man who loved to see his fellow-creatures happy, my heart expanded to a system of peace and harmony, com­prehending the whole globe: my mind expatiated involuntarily on the blessings and advantages deriv­ed from such a system; and, taking flight from the bounds of practicability, to which our feeble nature is pinned on this earth, into the regions or fancy, had reared a fabric of Utopian mold, which, I ve­rily believe, exceeded in extravagance the works of all the Utopian architects that ever constructed castles in the air.

Hurried on by this delightful vision, my person paid an involuntary obedience to my mind; and the quickness of my pace increasing with the im­petuosity of my thoughts, I found myself, before I was aware of it, within the chapel-door of the convent of the Carmelites. Observing my error, I suddenly turned about, in order to depart, when a friar, a goodly person of a man, elderly, and of a benign aspect, called me, and, advancing towards me, asked, in terms of politeness, and in the French language, why I was retreating so abruptly—I was confused: but truth is the enemy before whom confusion ever flies; and I told him the whole of my mistake, and the thoughts from which they arose.

[Page 112]The good father, waving further discourse on the subject, but with a smile which I thought carried a mixture of benevolence for myself, and contempt for my ideas, brought me through the church, and shewed me all the curiosities of the place, and par­ticularly pointed out to me, as a great curiosity, a sun-dial made in the form of a Madonna, the head enriched with rays and stars, and in the hand a sceptre which marked the hours.

Quitting the chapel, and going towards the re­fectory, the friar stood, and, looking at me with a smile of gaiety, said, "I have yet something to shew you, which, while lady Madonna marks the time, will help us to pass it; and, as it will make its way with more force and subtlety to your senses than those I have yet shewn you, will be likely to be longer retained in remembrance."

He spoke a few words in German, which of course I did not understand, to a vision bearing the shape of a human creature, who, I understood, [...] lay-brother; and, turning down a long alley, brought me to his cell, where we were soon fol­lowed by the aforesaid lay-brother, with a large earthen jug of liquor, two glasses, and a plate with some delicately white biscuit.

"You must know," said the friar, "that the convent of Carmelites at Augsburgh has for ages been famed for beer unequalled in any part of the world; and I have brought you here to have your opinion—for, being an Englishman, you must be a judge, the Britons being famed for luxury, and a perfect knowledge of the scavoir vivre." He pour­ed out, and drank to me: it looked liker the clear­est Champaigne than beer—I never tasted any thing to equal it; and he seemed highly gratified by my expressions of praise, which I lavished upon it, as well from politeness, as regard to truth.

After we had drank a glass each, "I have been reflecting," said the friar, "on the singular flight [Page 113] of fancy that directed your steps into this convent— Your mind was diseased, my son! and a propitious superintending Power has guided your steps to a physician, if you will but have the goodness to take the medicine he offers."

I stared with visible marks of astonishment.

"You are surprised," continued he; "but you shall hear! When first you disclosed to me those sickly flights of your mind, I could on the instant have answered them: but you are young—you are an Englishman—two characters impatient of re­proof: the dogmas of a priest, I thought there­fore, would be sufficiently difficult to be digested of themselves, without any additional distaste caught from the chilling austerity of a chapel!"

I looked unintentionally at the earthen jug, and smiled.

"It is very true," said he, catching my very in­most thoughts from the expression of my counte­nance —"it is very true! good doctrine may, at certain times, and with certain persons, be more effectually enforced under the cheering influence of the social board, than by the authoritative declama­tion and formal sanctity of the pulpit; nor am I, though a Carmelite, one of those who pretend to think, that a thing in itself good, can be made bad by decent hilarity, and the animation produced by a moderate and wise use of the goods of this earth."

I was astonished—

"You fell into a reverie," continued he, "pro­duced by a contemplation of the happiness of a society existing without any difference, and where no human breath should be wasted on a sigh, no ear tortured with a groan, no tears to trickle, no griefs or calamities to wring the heart."

"Yes, father!" said I, catching the idea with my former enthusiasm; "that would be my wish— that my greatest, first desire."

[Page 114]"Then seest thou," interrupted he, "the ex­tent of thy wish, suppose you could realize it, which, thank GOD! you cannot."

"What! thank GOD that I cannot? are these your thoughts?"

"Yes, my son; and ere Madonna marks the progress of ten minutes with her sceptre, they will be your's too."

"Impossible!"

"Hear me, my son!—Is not death a horrible precipice to the view of human creatures?"

"Assuredly," said I—"the most horrible: hu­man laws declare that, by resorting to it for punish­ment, as the ultimatum of all terrible inflictions."

"When, then," said he, "covered as we are with misery, to leave this world is so insupportable to the human reflection, what must it be if we had nothing but joy and felicity to taste of in this life? Mark me, child!" said he, with an animated zeal that gave an expression to his countenance beyond any thing I had ever seen: "the miseries, the cala­mities, the heart-rendings, and the tears, which are so intimately interwoven by the great artist in our natures as not to be separated in a single in­stance, are in the first place our security of a future state, and in the next place serve to slope the way before us, and, by gradual operation, fit our minds for viewing, with some sort of fortitude, that hi­deous chasm that lies between us and that state— death. View those miseries, then, as special acts of mercy and commiseration of a beneficent Crea­tor, who, with every calamity, melts away a link of that earthly chain that fetters our wishes to this dismal world. Accept his blessings and his goods, when he sends them, with gratitude and enjoyment: receive his afflictions, too, with as joyous accept­ance, and as hearty gratitude. Thus, and not other­wise, you will realize all your Utopian flights of desire, by turning every thing to matter of comfort, [Page 115] and living contented with dispensations which you cannot alter, and, if you could, would most cer­tainly alter for the worse."

I sat absorbed in reflection—The friar, after some pause proceeded—

"Errors arising from virtuous dispositions and the love of our fellow creatures, take their com­plexion from their parent motives, and are virtu­ous. Your wishes, therefore, my son! though er­roneous, merit reward, and, I trust will receive it from that Being who sees the recesses of the heart; and if the truths I have told you have not failed to make their way to your understanding, let your adventure of to-day impress this undeniable maxim on your mind—so limited is man, so imperfect in his nature, that the extent of his virtue borders on vice, and the extent of his wisdom on error."

I thought he was inspired; and, just as he got to the last period, every organ of mine was opened to take in his words.

"'Tis well, my son!" said he—"I perceive you like my doctrine: then" changing his manner of speaking, his expressive countenance the whole time almost anticipating his whole words, "take some more of it," said he gaily, pouring out a fresh glass. I pleaded the fear of inebriety—"Fear not," said he; "the beer of this convent never hurts the in­tellect."

Our conversation continued till near dinner-time; for I was so delighted, I scarcely knew how to snatch myself away: such a happy melange of piety and pleasantry, grave wisdom and humour, I had never met. At length, the convent-bell tolling. I rose: he took me by the hand, and, in a tone of the most complacent admonition, said, "Remember, my child! as long as you live, remember the convent of the Carmelites; and in the innumerable evils that certainly await you if you are to live long, the words you have heard from old Friar AUGUSTINE will afford you comfort."

[Page 116]"Father!" returned I, "be assured I carry away from you a token that will never suffer me to forget the hospitality▪ the advice, or the politeness of the good father AUGUSTINE. Poor as I am in natural means, I can make no other return than my good wishes, nor leave any impression behind me: but as my esteem for you, and perhaps my vanity▪ make me wish not to be forgotten, accept this, (a [...]eal [...]ing, with a device in hair, which I happened to have on my finger); and whenever you look at it, let it re­mind you of one of those, I dare say innumerable, instances, in which you have contributed to the happiness and improvement of your fellow-crea­tures."

The good old man was affected, took the ring, and attended me to the convent gate, pronouncing many blessings, and charging me to make Augsburgh my way back again to England if possible, and take one glass more of the convent ale.

LETTER XXI.

LEAVING Augsburgh, I travelled thro' Bavaria a long way before I reached the Tyrol Country, of the natural beauty of which I had heard much. and which I therefore entered with great expectations of that sublime gratification the beau­ties of nature never fail to afford me. I was not disappointed; indeed, my warmest expectations were exceeded.

The first thing that strikes a traveller from Bava­ria, on entering it, is the fort of Cherink, built be­tween two inaccessible rocks which separate Tyrol from the bishopric of Freisingen. So amply has nature provided for the security of this country [Page 117] against the incursion of an enemy, that there is not a pass which leads to it that is not through some narrow defile between mountains almost inaccessi­ble; and on the rocks and brows of those passes, the emperor has constructed forts and citadels, so advantageously placed, that they command all the valleys and avenues beneath.

After a variety of windings and turnings through mountains of stupendous height and awful aspect, I began to descend, and entered the most delightful valley I had ever beheld—deep, long, and above a mile in breadth—surrounded with enormous piles of mountains, and diversified with the alternate beauties of nature and cultivation, so as to form an union rarely to be met with, and delight at once the eye of the farmer, and the fancy of him that has a true taste for rural wildness. From the heights in descending, the whole appeared in all its glory; the beautiful river Inn gliding along through it longitudinally, its banks studded with the most ro­mantic little villages, while a number of inferior streams were seen winding in different courses, and hastening to pour their tribute into its bosom.

Here I felt my heart overwhelmed with sensations of transport, which all the works of art could never inspire: here nature rushed irresistibly upon my senses, and, making them captive, exacted their ac­knowledgement of her supremacy: here vanity, ambition, lust of fame and power, and all the tin­selled, gaudy frippery to which habit and worldly custom enslave the mind, retired, to make way for sentiments of harmony, purity, simplicity, and truth: here Providence seemed to speak in language most persuasive, "Come silly man, leave the wild tumult, the endless struggle, the glittering follies, the false and spurious pleasures which artifice creates, to se­duce you from the true—dwell here, and in the lap of natute study me:" Here, oh! here, exclaimed I, in a transport which bereft me, for the time, of [Page 118] every other consideration, here will I dwell for ever. The charm was too finely spun, to withstand the hard tugs of fact; and all its precious delusions va­nished before a host of gloomy truths—deranged affairs—family far off, with the distance daily increa­sing —the hazards and the hardships of a long untried journey—and the East Indies, with all its horrors, in the rear. I hung my head in sorrow; and, of­fering up a prayer to protect my family, strengthen myself, and bring us once more together in some spot heavenly as that I passed through, was pro­ceeding on in a state of dejection proportionate to my previous transports, when I was rouled by my postillion, who, pointing to a very high, steep rock, desired me to take notice of it. I did so; but seeing nothing very remarkable in its appear­ance, asked him what he meant by directing my at­tention to it—He answered me in the following manner, which, from the singularity of the narra­tive, and his strange mode of telling it, I think it would injure to take out of his own words: I will, therefore, endeavour, as well as I can, to give you a literal translation of it; and, indeed, the im­pression it made on my memory was such, that, I apprehend, I shall not materially differ from his words:

"You must know, Sir, (for every one in the world knows it), that all these mountains around us, are the abodes of good and evil spirits, or genii— the latter of whom are continually doing every ma­licious thing they can devise, to injure the people of the country,—such as leading them astray— smothering them in the snow—killing the cattle by throwing them down precipices—nay, when they can do no worse, drying up the milk in the udders of the goats—and, sometimes, putting between young men and their sweet-hearts, and stopping their marriage. Ten thousand curses light upon them! I should have been married two years ago, [Page 119] and had two children to-day, but for their schemes. In short, Sir, if it were not for the others—the good ones—who are always employed (and the blessed Virgin knows they have enough on their hands) in preventing the mischiefs of those devils, the whole place would be destroyed, and the coun­try left without a living thing▪ man or goat!"

Here I could not, for the life of me, retain my gravity any longer, but burst, in spite of me, into an immoderate fit of laughter, which so disconcert­ed and offended him, that he sullenly refused to proceed with the story and farther, but continued marking his forehead (his hat off) with a thousand crosses, uttering pious ejaculations. looking at me with a mixture of terror, distrust, and admiration and every now and then glancing his eye ask [...]nce toward the hills, as if fearful of a descent from the evil spirits.

My curiosity was awakened by the very extraor­dinary commencement of his narrative; and I de­termined, if possible, to hear it out: so, assuring him that I meant nothing either of slight or wick­ness by my laughter—that I had too serious ideas of such things to treat them with levity—and▪ what was more convincing logic with him, promising to reward him for it—he proceeded with his story as follows:

"Well, Sir, you say you were not sporting with those spirits—and fortunate it is for you: at all events, Saint JOHN of GOD be our guide, and bring us safe to Innspruck. Just so the great MAXIMILIAN was wont to laugh at them; and you shall hear how he was punished for it—and that was the story I was about to tell you. The Emperor MAXIMILIAN, that glory of the world, (he is now in the lap of the blessed Virgin in Pa­radise), once on a time, before he was emperor, that is to say, when he was archduke, was al­ways laughing at the country people's fears of [Page 120] those spirits—and an old father of the church forewarned him to beware, lest he should [...]ffer for his rashness: so one day he went out hunting, and at the foot of that mountain a most beautiful chamois started before him; he shot at it, and missed it—(the first shot he had missed for ma­ny years, which you know was warning enough to him)—however, he followed, shooting at and missing it, the animal standing every now and then till he came up within shot of it: thus he continued till near night, when the goat disappeared of a sudden, and he found himself buried, as it were in the bowels of the mountain: he endeavoured to find his way out, but in vain; every step he took led him more astray, and he was for two days wandering about, CHRIST save us! in the frightful hollows of those mountains, living all the time on wild berries: on the second night be bethought himself of his want of faith, and of the saying of old Father JEROME: and he fell on his knees, and wept and prayed all night; and the Virgin heard his prayers, he being a good man, and, above all, an emperor—GOD bless you and me! we should have perished—In the morning a beautiful young man, dressed in a peasant's habit, came up to him, gave him victuals and wine, and desired him to follow him, which he did, you may be sure, joyfully—but, Oh blessed Virgin! think what his surp [...]e must have been, when, getting again into the plain out of the mountain, the young man di [...]ppeared and vanished all of a sud­den, just at the foot of that steep rock which I shewed you, and which ever since goes by the name of the emperor's rock—You see what a dan­gerous place it is, and what dangerous spirits they must be that would not spare even the holy Roman emperor. In my mind, the best way is to say no­thing against those things, as some faithless people do, and to worship the Virgin and keep a good con­science, and then one will have the less to fear."

[Page 121]By the time he had ended his narrative, we were in sight of Innspruck, when I annoyed and terri­fied him afresh, by laughing immoderately at the end of his story—but atoned in some measure for it, by giving him half a florin.

On inquiring at Innspruck, I found that MAXI­MILIAN had actually lost his way in the mountain, and had been conducted out of it by a peasant, who left him suddenly; the rest was an exaggerated [...]r [...] ­ditionary tale, arising from the superstitious fears of the country people.

LETTER XXII.

IN all nations under Heaven, and at all times since the creation there have been men form­ed to make a noise in the world—to increase or impede, to direct or disturb, the calm, sober pro­gress of social life—and, in the eagerness and vio­lence of their efforts to reach the goal of superio­rity, overturn or thrust out of their ordinary path the rest of mankind, till either they provoke against them a general conspiracy of their fellow-creatures, or, till reaching the point of their pursuit, they become elevated objects of homage and admiration. Such men are generally composed of great materials for mischief:—having strong natural talents and violent ungovernable spirits; according to the di­rection these get, they are harmless or mi [...]chievous —but, like morbid matter in the animal system, if not let loose by some channel or other, they never fail to disturb the whole economy of the body they belong to, and produce fatal consequences to it and to themselves: Colonial possessions have therefore, in some views, been of use (as America formerly to [Page 122] England) to draw off those dangerous spirits, who, though they are in times of peace better at a dis­tance, in times of war are found to be the toughest sinews of a nation.

The country of Tyrol, such as I have described it, formed bv nature for the residence of the Syl­van deities, rich in the products of the earth, the people contented and happy, and the whole the region of peace; manufactures, the first root of low vices, and commerce, the great instigator of war, have scarcely been able to set their feet there: hence it happens, that there is no channel through which those exuberant spirits I have alluded to can take their course, or expand their force. Home, there­fore, is no place for those of the Tyrolese, who are cursed or blessed (call it which you please) with those very combustible qualities; and they are obliged to roam abroad in search of opportunities of distinguishing themselves, giving vent to their spirits, and manifesting their talents. They are found, therefore, scattered all over the Continent: and as it rarely happens that opportunities occur in life of signalising such talents in a dignified line, rather than be idle they do what they can, and apply to chicanery as a wide and appropriate field for their genius and vigour to work on—the emi­grant Tyrolese are, therefore, by most nations of the continent, reckoned among the most expert and accomplished sharpers in the world—the peo­ple, however, who remain at home, are of a dif­ferent character—they are, generally speaking, tall, robust, and vigorous; the women strong, and very fair; and both sexes exhibit a very pleasing mixture of German phlegm and Italian sprightliness; or, to speak more properly, they are a mean between those two extremes.

Innspruck, though a small city, is handsome and agreeable, standing in a very beautiful valley, sur­rounded with mountains, which, while their lower [Page 123] parts are well cultivated, are capped on the tops with perennial snow. The castle formerly the resi­dence of the Austrian princes is stately and magni­ficent, adorned within with fine paintings, and decorated without by natural and artificial foun­tains, statues, pleasant gardens, groves, walks, and covered galleries, leading to five different churches.

A-propas—Let me not forget the churches! In a chapel of the Franciscan church, there is an image of the Virgin MARY as big as the life, of solid silver, with many, other images of faints of the same metal. If some of those silver deities were transferred to Paris, I fear their divinity would not save them from the hands of the sacrilegious Con­vention. One thing, however, is well worth the attention of travellers, particularly those who wish to wipe away the sins of a deceased friend, and get them a direct passport to happiness—This Francis­can church is held to be one of the most sacred and venerable in the world, on account of the indul­gences granted to it by several popes; so that one single mass said in it, is declared to be sufficient to deliver a soul from the pains of purgatory. When we consider the great and important extent of their power in that respect, we cannot wonder if they had all the saints in the calendar, and the Virgin MARY to boot, in solid silver, even of the size of the Colossus at Rhodes.

Hall, the second city in Tyrol, lies one league from Innspruck: it is famous for its salt-works, and for a mint and silver mines, in which seven thousand men, women, and children are constantly employed.

At a royal palace and castle called Ombras, lying at equal distance from Innspruck and Hall, there is an arsenal, famous for a prodigious collection of curiosities, such as medals, precious stones, suits of armour, and statues of several princes on horseback, in their old rich fighting accoutrements; besides [Page 124] great variety of military spoils and trophies taken by the House of Austria; in particular, a statue of FRANCIS the First and his horse, just as they were taken at the battle of Pavia, and two others of Turkish bashaws, with the costly habits and appoint­ments with which they were taken, embellished with gold, silver, and precious stones. But, above all their curiosities, the most extraordinary is an oak inclosing the body of a deer: this last, however unaccountable, is fact; and equals, I think, any of the wonders in the metamorphoses of OVID.

Leaving Innspruck, I proceeded on my journey, and soon entered into the mountains, which are there of a terrible height—I was the best part of a day ascending them: as I got near the top, I was shewn, by my driver, the spot where FERDINAND, king of Hungary, and the Emperor CHARLES the F [...]fth, met, when he returned from Africa, in the year 1520. It is marked with an inscription to that effect, and has grown into a little village, which, from that circumstance, bears the name of the S [...]lutation.

Although this mountain, called Bremenberg (or Burning-hill), is covered with snow for nine months in the year, it is inhabited to the very top, and produces corn and hay in abundance; at the highest part there is a post-house, a tavern, and a chapel, where the traveller is accommodated with fresh horses, provisions, and, if he chooses, a mouth­ful of prayers—I availed myself of the two first; but the latter being not altogether in my way, I declined it, for which I could perceive that I was, by every mouth and eye in the place, consigned to perdition as a heretic.

Just at this spot there is a spring of water which falls upon a rock, and divides into two currents, which, at a very small distance, assume the appear­ance, and, in fact, the magnitude too, of very large rivers. The mountain is sometimes difficult to pass, [Page 125] sometimes absolutely impracticable—I was fortunate, however, in this respect; for I got over it without any very extraordinary delay, and on my way was regaled with the most delicious venison that I have ever tasted in my life; it was said to be the flesh of a kind of goat.

Although it is but thirty-five miles from Inn­spruck to Brisen, it was late when I reached the latter; and as it contained nothing worth either the trouble or delay attending the search of it, I set out the next morning, and, travelling with high moun­tains on one side, and a river all along upon the other, arrived at a town called Bolsano, in the bishopric of Trent. The country all along was thickly inhabited, and the mountains perfectly cul­tivated and manured even to their highest tops. On entering the valley of Bolsano, I found the air becoming obviously sweet, delightful, and tempe­rate; the vineyards, and all the trees and shrubs, olives, mulberries, willows, and roses, &c. of all the most lively green, and every thing marking the most luxuriant vegetation.

Bolsano is a small, but extremely neat and plea­sant town—but nothing I saw about it pleased me so much as their vineyards, which are planted in long terraces along the sides of the hills, and are formed into the most beautiful arbours, one [...]ow above another.

From Bolsano to Trent, is fifty-one miles, a good day's journey: almost the whole of it lies through the valley of Bolsano, a most fruitful and pleasant —indeed, delightful road, which made the day's journey appear to me much shorter than it really was.

Perhaps no part of the habitable globe is, within the same comparatively small compass of earth, so wonderfully diversified by the hand of nature in all her extremes, as that through which I have just carried you. There, under almost the same glance [Page 126] of the eye, were to be seen the stupendous, the rugged, the savage, and the inaccessible—the mild, the fruitful, and the cultivated. Here, the moun­tain capped with perpetual snow, gradually falling in blended gradations of shade, far beyond the reach of the artist's pencil, into the green luxuriant val­ley; and there, the vineyard, the olivary, and the rich corn-field, bursting at once from rugged rocks and inaccessible fastnesses: the chu [...]lish aspect of the tyrant winter for ever prowling on the moun­tain's head above—perpetual spring smiling with all her fascinating charms in the plains below. Such scenes as these would baffle all efforts of the poet's pen or painter's pencil: to be conceived, they must be seen. I shall therefore close my account of them with a strong recommendation to you, that whenever you travel for improvement, you go through the Country of Tyrol, and there learn the great and marvellous working of nature.

LETTER XXIII.

PERHAPS the learned unwise men of the world, who spend their lives poring after impossi­bilities, have never met with a more copious sub­ject of puzzle-pated enjoyment than the derivation of the names of places. In all disputed cases on this subject, the utmost within human reach is con­jecture; but the joke of it is, that, fortunately for mankind, the certainty of it would not be of a single button advantage to them, even if it could be acquired by their search. Doctor GOLDSMITH, in his Citizen of the World, has thrown this matter into high ridicule; and I recommend it to your perusal, lest this shadow of literature should one [Page 127] day wheedle you from more respectable pursuits. Trent has afforded vast exercise to book-worm con­jectures in this way; for, while some pronounce it to be derived from Tridentum, and for this pur­pose will have it that NEPTUNE was worshipped there, though so far from the sea-others claim the discovery of its derivation from Tribus Torren­tibus, or three streams which run there. Now, as to the first, exclusive of forcing NEPTUNE all the way from the Gulph of Venice to their temples, I cannot find any such similarity in the sound of Trent and Trident to warrant the inference; and as to the Tribus Torrentibus, they might as well say that a primmer or hornbook was found there, and that thence it was derived from the alphabet, since the same analogy subsisted between them, namely, that the letters T, R, E, N, T are to be found in both. But, in the name of God, what signifies what it was called after? Its name is Trent; and if it had been Putney, or John o' Groat's house, the town would be neither the better nor the worse, nor the treasures of literature suffer any defalcation from the difference.

The bishopric of Trent is about sixty miles long, and forty broad—fertile, and abundant in wine, oil, fruit, and pasture—and pleasant, the beautiful river Adige meandering through the whole of it from north to south. The inhabitants are bigoted Ro­man Catholics—you will the less wonder, then, that the bishop should have so extensive a princi­pality, and an annual revenue of forty thousand crowns.

As I receded from Germany, and advanced to­wards Italy, I found the air, the persons, and the manners of the people, to display a very great dif­ference, and to resemble those of the Italians more than those of the Germans. Though Popish big­otry be pretty strong in many parts of Germany, it no where there assumes the gloomy, detestable aspect that it does in Italy.

[Page 128]And now, since I have happened to mention the characters of these two people, I may as well, once for all, more particularly as we are got to the verge of both, give you them in full; in both which I am warranted in saying, that all who know the two will agree with me.

Perhaps contrast was never more perfectly exem­plified than in a comparison between the Germans and Italians; and that contrast strikes more forcibly and suddenly in passing from one country in the other, than it would in so short a space between any two people existing. The Italians, jealous, revengeful, treacherous, dissembling, servile, vici­ous, sanguinary, idle, and sensual. The Germans, on the contrary, open, good-natured, free from malice and subtlety, laborious, sincere, honest, and hospitable—and, with those valuable qualities, pro­perly complaisant. So happy is the character of this people, that to be German hearted has long been a phrase signifying an honest man who hated dissimulation: and their hospitality was even in the days of JULIUS CAESAR, remarkable; for we learn from him, that their houses were open to all men—that they thought it injustice to affront a traveller, and made it an article of their religion to protect those who came under their roof. D [...]d not intemperance in eating and drinking detract from their virtues, no people on earth would bear com­parison with them for intrinsic worth, and particu­larly for integrity in dealing.

The city of Trent, though not very large in cir­cumference, is populous. The high mountains which surround it, subject it to all the inconveni­ences of heat and cold—rendering the air excessive­ly hot in summer, and extremely cold in winter; besides which, they expose the town to dreadful inundations—the torrents that descend from the mountains being sometimes so impetuous as to roll large pieces of rock with them into it, and having several times laid the whole place waste.

[Page 129]There are in Trent many stately palaces, church­es, and religious houses. The only one, however, that I will particularize, is that of Saint MARY MAJOR, noted for a prodigious large organ, which can be made to counterfeit all sorts of musical in­struments, together with the singing of birds, the cries of several beasts, and the sounds of drums and trumpets, so exactly, that it is difficult to dis­tinguish between the imitation and the reality. To what an end such an instrument should be set up in a place of worship, I am at a loss to divine, un­less it be to add to the rich, useless lumber that fills all those of Popish countries.

But that which distinguishes this church still fur­ther, is, that it is the place where the famous Coun­cil of Trent was held, concerning the Reformation, at which four thousand persons of a public character, laymen and ecclesiastics, assisted. This Council sat eighteen years before it did any thing; but at last the Pope contrived to get the ascendant; and, after debating and deliberating so long, not only the Pro­testants, but even the German and French nations, refused to receive its decrees. Certain of the cler­gy, finding the ascendancy that the negotiation of the Pope was getting in this council, said that the Holy Ghost had been sent here from Rome in a cloakbag!

Trent once boasted a curiosity—which indeed still remains, though out of use—that, I think, would be found serviceable in most towns in Chris­tendom, and elsewhere too, and particularly at Bath, and such places. It was a tower on the river Adige, into which the stream was conducted, for the purpose of drowning such of the clergy as were convicted of having been too familiar with their neighbours' wives and daughters!

The people of Trent speak promiscously, and in­differently, both the German and Italian languages; but whether well or not, I was not adept enough to discover.

[Page 130]My next stage was Bassano, a town in the terri­tory of Vincenza in Italy, situated at the end of a very long n [...]rrow valley. It is watered by the river Bren [...]a, which washes that very rich, fertile, serene, healthy, and plentiful district of Italy, so celebrated for its admirable wines, as well as for its fine pas­ture-grounds, rich corn-fields, and prodigious abun­dance of game, cattle, and mulberry-trees; from all which it is called the Garden and Shambles of Ve­nice.

The next day I arrived at an early hour at Ve­nice, the description of which I shall not injure by commencing it with the mutilated fragment of a letter, and shall therefore postpone it to my next.

THUS, my dear FREDERICK, have I, in order to preserve the unity and order of my progress, brought you through Germany with a precise regularity, that, if I was not wishing for your improvement, might be dispensed with—yet have left much, very much indeed, untouched, in the confidence that you will yourself have the industry to find it out.

I confess, my dear boy, that I have often, as I wrote, detected myself in excursions from the road into moral reflection—but I could not stop: your improvement was my object in undertaking the bu­siness; and I could not refrain from endeavouring to inculcate such lessons as the progress of the work suggested, and as impressed my mind with a con­viction of their truth and utility.

You must have observed, that there are two to­pics on which I dwell very much—one, LIBERTY —the other, an abhorence of bigotry and supersti­tion. But, before I proceed further, I must call to your remembrance what I have often said, that by liberty I do not mean that which some people now give that name to—nor do I mean religion when I speak of bigotry; for true liberty is still more incompatible with anarchy than with despot­ism, [Page 131] and superstition is the greatest enemy of reli­gion. Let the first object of your heart and soul be true morality—the next, rational liberty: but re­member, that the one is not to be found indepen­dent of religion, nor the other over to be enjoyed but under the restraining hands of wholesome laws and good government—such [...] England now boasts.

In the [...]e times, when human opinion is actually polled on the two extremes of political judgment, I know, that to speak rationally, is to incur the censure of both, or to be, as POPE somewhere says, "by tories called a whig, by whigs a tory:" but I care not—I speak my opinion with the fair face of independence; nor would scruple to tell the KING of PRUSSIA my hatred of despotism, or the Convention of France my abhorrence of anarchy— between both of which the true and genuine point of liberty lies; and England, thank God! draws the line.

LETTER XXIV.

AS I approached Venice, I was much delighted with its appearance. Its stately steeples and noble buildings seemed as if just emerging from the sea, and floating on the surface of it; and it required no great stretch of fancy to imagine, that it undulated with the agitated waves of its parent the Adriatic. On all the surrounding coasts, na­ture and art seemed to have vied with each other in pouring the greatest profusion of their gifts, while thousands of masts, scattered like forests over the surrounding bays, denoted that Venice, not con­tent with her own, shared in the wealth and luxu­ries of other climes.

[Page 132]It is indeed difficult to conceive a more extraor­dinary and pleasing appearance than this city makes at a distance, whether you approach it from the sea or from the continent. Built not like towns in Holland, where immense moles and walls push the sea forward, and encroach on his dominion, it stands on piles erected in the sea; and the founda­tions of the houses almost touching the water, gives it the appearance of floating on its surface. The steeples are seen at sea at the distance of thirty miles; and the prospect becomes more beautiful the nearer it is approached—presenting in many views the ap­pearance of floating islands.

To erect a city thus upon the water, while so many thousands of acres stand unoccupied, at first sight seems extraordinary—but all those great and strange deviations from the ordinary path presented by nature, have their source in necessity; and it is not till long after the necessity has been first lament­ed, and afterwards obviated, that experience comes into aid, and demostrates, that, from her, security and utility have often arisen. Thus it is with Ve­nice, who, fortified by her local situation (the effort of necessity), sits secure, and bids defiance to the world.

The place where Venice now stands, is supposed to have been formerly a marshy ground, on which the Adriatic Sea had gradually encroached, leaving the more elevated parts of it above water, and there­by forming a vast number of little islands, hence called Lagunes: on those the fishermen of the neighbouring shores built their huts; and when Italy was invaded by the Goths under AIARIC, and afterwards by that barbarous race the Huns, un­der ATTILA, both of whom spread ruin and deso­lation wherever they came, vast numbers of people from the circumjacent shores of the Adriatic, par­ticularly from Padua and Aquileia, sled hither, and brought along with them immense wealth. Here [Page 133] they laid the first foundations on seventy-two dis­tinct little islands, and certainly with huts, of a city which afterwards stood almost foremost in the naval and commercial world: as those islands were built upon, and became over-people, they gradually pushed forward their piles, and built upon them aga [...]n, till the whole became one vast city, extend­ing to many more of those islands beyond the ori­ginal seventy-two.

As it was indebted in a great measure, for its rise and importance to the commerce of the East, which then was carried on by way of the Red Sea and Alexandria, when the passage by the Cape of Good Hope was discovered, that trade declined and Ve­nice declined gradually along with it.

It is amazing, what an extent of territory and accumulation of power the Venetians once poss [...]s­sed. Besides their present possessions, which com­prehend the territories of Padua and Verona, the Vincentine, the Brescians, the Bergamales, the C [...]ema [...]co, the Polefin of Rovig [...], Marca Trevi­g [...]ana, the Patria del Friuli, and Ist [...]ia, they had under their dominion the islands of Rhodes, Scio, Samos, My [...]lene, Andros, Candia, the Morea, and the cities of Gallipo [...]i and Thessalonica: besides which, they, in conjunction with France, took Constantinople, and remained for sometime masters of that part of the Empire; and disputed the do­minion of Sclavonia, Croatia, Morlachia and Dal­matia, with the Kings of Hungary, and contended with the Genocie [...] the empire of the sea: but of a great part of these, I and their other conquests, they have since been stripped, almost entirely, by the Turks.

As to the government of Venice, I shall not enter into any particulars of its history— It is call­ed a republic, and was once a democracy. The name remains, while that which gave it is gone. It is, certainly, now a downright aristocracy—the [Page 134] privilege of sitting in the great Council being confined to the nobility; and the doge, under the name of head, being no more than a gaudy slave, loaded with fetters: yet, such is the idle fondness of man for superficial pomp, that this office is sought-after with avidity; for though his power be small, his state is very splendid. Hence it is said, that the doge of Venice is a king in his robes, a senator in council, a prisoner in the city, and a private man out of it; and what is more extraordi­nary, is, that though he may be deposed, he cannot resign—nor even decline the office, if he be once chosen, without exposing himself to banishment, and his effects to confiscation.

The established religion of this state is the Ro­man Catholic; but the Venetians are not b [...]gots, and reject the supremacy of the Pope. Jews, Ar­menians, Greeks, and Protestants, are allowed the exercise of their religion there; and, provided they do not intermeddle with state affairs, of which they are extremely jealous, even their priests, monks, and nuns, may take almost any liberties they please —a privilege that you may be assured is not neglect­ed by any of them.

As few places have excited greater admiration and attention than Venice, so none have been more copiously described by travellers, every one of whom may, when he returns to his native country, give a very accurate account of the public buildings, curiosities, paintings. &c. by only translating the book given to him by his va [...] de place, or cice­rone, on his arrival the [...]—It is certain, Venice abounds with all those, particularly paintings; but I had not the time minutely to investigate; nor should I have the inclination, if I did, to describe such things: they are open to you in many well written volumes, which I recommend to your pe­ru [...]ual. Such things, however, as strike me for their novelty, or difference from those in other [Page 135] places, I will, as well as I can recollect them, give you an idea of.

To their local situation they own their security— separate I from terra firma by a body of water of five miles in breadth, too deep to be forded, and too shallow for vessels of force to pa [...]s: and on the other sides, by scattered shallows, the channels be­tween which are marked out by st [...]kes, which, on the appearance of an enemy, they can take away; they bid defiance to hostile army or navy, and have not been reduced to the necessity to erecting walls or fortifications for their defence.

The first peculiarity that strikes me, as arising immediately from their living, I may say, in the sea, is the total exclusion of all sort of carriages; for those streets that are on firm ground are ex­tremely narrow and crooked; and on most of the canals, so far from having a quay on either side to walk on, the water comes up to the doors of the houses; so that walking is but little known, for they get into a boat off their threshold, and their first step out of it again is, ten to one, on the threshold of another. This circumstance, though in some respects it has its uses, is, in others, ex­tremely disagreeable, as well as injurious; for, though those who have occasion to labour have a sufficiency of exercise, those whose condition ex­empts them from labour, and who, therefore, in all other countries, resort to artificial labour (exer­cise) for the promotion of health, are here entirely cut off from all such means of it as we practise, having neither hunting, shooting, riding, bowling, &c. &c. nor can they have them, unless they go to the Continent for them. The chief amusements of the Venetians are reserved for the carnival time, which commences about a week after Christmas, and which, therefore, I could not see; but, from the concurrent testimony of all travellers and the people themselves, as well as from the evidence of [Page 136] my own observation on the manners of the people, I am well warranted in saying, are festivals of de­bauchery, not, and licentiousness. This is a sub­ject on which I am, nevertheless, disposed to be­lieve, that more has been said than truth will bear ou [...]—yet, a bare statement of the truth, would, I fear, [...]ear hard enough upon the moral character, or at least the piety, of the Venetians.

That masquerades are the very worst schools of vice, the private anecdotes of the beau monde even in England might suffice to demonstrate—That courtez [...]ns are found lost to all sense of modesty and common decency, the streets of London afford nightly proof:—Therefore, that masquerading (which is the amusement of the Venetians) should cloak many crimes, and that their courtezans should be shameless and their women lewd, is no such wonder, seeing, as we do, those things in this Northern clime; but we may, without any illibe­rality, suppose, that, from physical causes of the most obvious kind, they are carried to a greater ex­tent there than here: though one of the most en­lightened and amiable of all travellers says it would be hard to be proved, yet, with deference to him, I think it may be rationally supposed.

There is an active principle in the mind of man which will not [...]ofter it to rest; it must have some materials to work upon. Men, enlightened by sci­ence, have within themselves a fund, and can never want food for contemplation; but the many, in those hours when a suspension of labour or worldly business drives them to expedients for the employ­ment of their time are but too prone to leave the mind to the guidance of the senses, and to cogitate on vice till they w [...]sh to practice it. Hence that homely but true saying, "Idleness is the root of all evil." In England we have a variety of expedi­ents which the Venetians want, whose minds be­ing besides naturally more vivid, are more prompt [Page 137] to give a loose to the warm illusions of sensual fancy. Thus prepared, they meet the carnival, when every thing conspires to give circulation to indulgence; and when those operations of the mind which with us have so many channels to discharge themselves, with them, like a vast stream suddenly confined to one narrow channel, burst forth with an irresistable torrent, and carry away before them every bond that religion or morality has laid down as restraints on the exhuberance of human passion. The customs and habits of the place and time con­tribute to it; for, while the severe restrictions of the female sex for the rest of the year sharpen both inclination and invention on the one hand—on the other, the unbounded license, the universal change of habits, customs and laws—the total suspension of all distinction, care, or business which take place at that time, aided by perpetual masquerade—and those most convenient of all receptacles, the gon­dolas, with those most expert and forward of all pandars, the gondoliers—afford ample scope to their wishes, and form altogether a mass of circumstances in favour of vicious indulgence, not to be found in any other part of Christendom; to resist which, they must be more virtuous than any other people —a point never yet laid to their charge by the best-natured and most extenuating of all those who have written upon that subject.

LETTER XXV.

PROFLIGATE though the people of London are, I will not allow that it is so vicious a city as Venice. That there are in it, and indeed in all capitals, individuals who have reached the [Page 138] highest acme of shameless debauchery and depra­vity, it would be foolish to deny: but that concu­binage is practised in the same-open way, so gene­rally, or so systematically as at Venice, no one will venture to assert. I trust the day of depravity and indelicacy is far removed from us, that will exhibit a British mother arranging a plan of accommodation for her son, and bargaining for a young virgin to commit to his embraces—as they do in Venice— not as wife, but as concubine. On that one cus­tom of the Venetian ladies I rest my position; and have no hesitation to avow, that all the private Concubinage of London amounts not to such a fla­grant consumm [...]tion of moral turpitude and shame­less indelicacy as that practice to which I allude.

The Venetian men are well-featured and well-shaped—the women, well-shaped, beautiful, and, it is said, witty: but I had that within which rob­bed every object of its charms; and I might say with HAMLET, that "man delighted not me, nor woman either."—In short, not all the beauties and novelty of the place, not all the pleasures that sta [...]e the traveller in the face, and solicit his enjoyment, not all the exquisite looks of the ladies, could rouse my mind from its melancholy, or fix my attention— I grew weary of Venice before I had been many hours in it, and determined to grasp at the very first opportunity that offered for my departure.

I had arranged, in my own mind, a plan to pro­ceed to Latichea, a considerable sea-port town in Syria, and thence to Aleppo, whence, as it was a great Eastern mart, I entertained hopes that I should find a speedy, or at least a certain convey­ance, by a caravan, across the deserts, to Basso [...]ah, and little doubted but that I should find a vessel at some of the Venetian ports, either bound, or be­longing to a sea-port of such commercial conse­quence, upon which I could procure a passage— But in this I was disappointed; for, on the fullest [Page 139] inquiry that I could make, I found that there was only one ship ready to sail, and no probability of any other for a considerable time after—I did every thing I could to avail myself of this conveyance, but was disappointed, owing to a young lady being passenger, who was daughter to the owner of the vessel—and the old gentleman did not approve of an English officer being of the party with his daugh­ter. I used ever [...] argument without success, ur­ging the resident, Mr STRANGE, who had behaved very politely to me during my short residence at Venice, to interest himself about it: I likewise entreated Mrs. STRANGE, an affable, pleasant wo­man, to exert her endeavours, and made her laugh, by proposing to her to give me a certificate of my behaviour, and to pledge herself to the old gentle­man that the happiness or honour of his family would not be disturbed by me during the passage.

Hearing, however, that a ship lay at Trieste, which was to sail thence for Alexandria in Egypt, I determined to embrace that opportunity, and, in­stead of my former intended route, go to Grand Cairo, thence to Saez, and so down the Red Sea, by way of Mecca, to Moca, and thence to Aden, which company's vessels, or India country traders are always to be found going to one or other of the British settlements.

I accordingly set out for Trieste, with all the im­patience of a sanguine mind, anxious to change place, eager to push forward, and full of the new route I had laid down—the charms of which, par­ticularly of seeing Grand Cairo, the Land of Egypt, and the Pyramids, were painted by my imagination in all the glowing exaggerated colours of romance. The captain of the vessel was then at Venice, and I accompanied him to Trieste, which is about sixty miles from Venice.

Soon after our arrival at Trieste, I had the mor­tification to find, that the vessel was by no means [Page 140] likely to keep pace with the ardour of my mind, and that, owing to some unforeseen event, her de­parture was to be delayed; so, after a few of those effusions which may be supposed on such an occasi­on to escape a man of no very cool temper hanging on the tenter-hooks of expectation, I found it ne­cessary to sit down, and patiently wait the revolu­tion of time and event, which nothing could either impede or accelerate.

It has often been remarked, and is held as a point of faith by Predestinarians, that some men are doomed by fate to disappointment—and that, when they are so, no wisdom can obviate, no vigilance provide against, nor no resolution resist, her de­crees; but, that, in spite of all the efforts of reason and industry, a series of sinister events shall pursue them through life, and meet them at every turn they attempt to take. Such has been my lot for the greatest part of my life—but I have neither faith enough in predestination, nor self-love enough so far to blind me to my own faults, as to suppose that lady Fate had any thing at all to do with it. No, no; it was often owing to a temper, warm, impa­tient, and uncontroled, which, in almost all cares of momentary embarrassment, chased reason from her office, usurped her place, and decided as chance directed. Let every man examine the grounds of all his serious disappointments in life with candour, and he will find physical causes to which to assign them, without resorting to supernatural. For my part, when I hear a man say that he has been all his life pursued by ill-fortune, I directly conclude, that either he has been a blunderer, or those he dealt with, brutes. In the ordinary operation of earthly contingencies, mischances will happen; but an uniform life o [...] mischance can only arise from mis­management, or a very extraordinary chain of human injustice.—

[Page 141]These reflections arose from the following in­cident:

I had procured a servant to attend me on my journey, who, from my short observation of him, promised to contribute very considerably to my comfort, my convenience, and, indeed, to my se­curity, as he was apparently honest, sincere, active, and clever in his duty, and master of several lan­guages, and particularly of the lingua Franca, a mixture of languages, peculiarly useful in travel­ling through the East. Finding that I was likely to be delayed at Trieste, and conceiving that in this interim letters from England, for which I most ardently longed, might have arrived at Venice for me, I imprudently and impetuously sent him to Venice, for the purpose of taking them up, and carrying them to me. But guess what must have been my feelings when I found, almost immedi­ately after his departure, that the vessel was prepar­ing to sail, and that I must either lose my passage or my servant: anx [...]ous though I was to get forward, and grievous though my former delay had been to me, I hesitated which to do; but prudence, for once, prevailed over inclination; and I determin­ed, at all events, to depart, under all the embarrass­ment attending the want of a servant and linguist, and all the poignant feelings of having been acces­sary to the disappointment, and perhaps the injury of a poor fellow, whom I really conceived to be a person of merit. In our passage to Alexandria we touched at Zante, an island on the coast of Greece, belonging to Venice; it was anciently called Za­cy [...]s—is about fifty miles in circumference, and contains fifty thousand inhabitants. Never before had I tasted any thing equal to the delicious flavour of the fruits of this [...]—the grapes exquisite, and the me [...]n and pe [...]hes of prodigious bigness and unequ [...]d [...] island is abundantly fruitful in wine, currants, o [...], figs, and corn, but [Page 142] is very subject to earthquakes. Near the sea-port which we entered is as great a curiosity in nature as is any where, I believe, to be found. Two spring wells of clear fresh water throw up large pieces of real pitch in such quantities, that, it is said, the people collect, one year with another, one hundred barrels of it, which they use in paying their ship­ping and boats.

In the first stages of melancholy, consolation is rejected by the mind as premature. The heart, in­tent, as it were, upon supping full of woe, dis­claims all advances of comfort, and feeds on grief alone. Hence the truly skilful in the human heart consider premature consolation as an aggravation of woe, and comfort only with condolence, well know­ing that the tide of grief must take its course, and that, until it be first full, no hopes can be had of its retiring. The full force of this I began now to feel. The disquietude of domestic embarrass­ment—the bitterness of separation from all I loved —the solitary sadness of my situation, wandering through unknown countries—myself unknown and unfriended—aggravated at length by the loss of my servant, who was a sort of prop to my spirits—and my being cast into a ship among a people whose language I little understood, without any soul or one circumstance to mitigate my sorrow, or console me under it; all these, I say, had wound up my feelings to the highest pitch of fortune—More miserable I could not be when the island of Zante received me, and, for the first time for a sad series of days, raised me with the transporting sound of an English voice.

I have promised my FREDERICK, to give you a candid relation, in hopes that you will improve by it: but if I thought, that, on the contrary, any thing I said should tend to raise in your mind a sen­timent injurious to your principles, o [...] reflective on your father's conduct, but to be an example and ad­monitory [Page 143] guide to your own, I should condemn my candour and curse the hour that I wrote—but, I trust to your good sense and disposition, with my care to direct them; and shall, but not without he­si [...]ation, proceed. But, as I have already spun out this letter to such an extent, I will defer my fur­ther relation to another.

LETTER XXVI.

AT the time I set out upon my journey over land to India, I was (though married, and the father of children) very young, naturally of a sanguine constitution: my attachment to the fair [...]ex was [...]o ways diminished by a military education: and a warmth of temper, an ardent sensibility of mind, and a frank unsuspicious disposition, left me but too often to regret the facility with which I yielded to the charms of women. But the regret for each error was wilfully smothered in vain determinations of amendment—and the promised amendment again broken in upon by some new error. Thus it was, till riper years and circumstances of weight strength­ened my reason, and gave it in some greater degree that dominion it should have over my actions.

Circumstanced as I have in my last letter described myself to be, and constituted by nature and educa­tion as I have mentioned above, I landed in the charming [...]sland of Zante, where nature herself seems to have conspired against chastity—making the very air breathe nothing but transport and de­light. There I met a young lady, a native of Eng­land—extremely pretty, highly accomplished, and captivating in the extreme: she had been at Venice for her education—was a complete mistress of music, [Page 144] and expressed an intention of following it professi­onally on her arrival at England, whither was going passenger in a vessel bound there from Zante. To have accidentally met with a native of England, even of my own sex, in such a distant corner of the world, under such circumstances as mine, just escap­ed from the horrid life I had for some time led, must have filled me with joy: allowance, therefore, may be made for my feelings on meeting this young lady, and for my thinking of some expedient to prevent our separation. She laboured, perhaps, un­der the pressure of feelings as disagreable as my own, and expressed her satisf [...]ction at meeting with a countryman so very unexpectedly. Reserve was soon thrown off on both sides: we entered into a conversation interesting and confidental, which in­creased my anxiety to keep her with m [...], and in or­der to persuade her to accompany me, I pointed out in the strongest colours possi [...]e, the great advan­tages she might derive from her accomplishments in India, where her musical talents alone, exclusive of her various captivating qualities, would be an inex­haustible mine of wealth. In short, I so very eagerly enforced my proposal to accompany me, and time was so very short, that she consented, and in two hours we had arranged every thing for our depar­ture together—and here with shame and horror I confess (nor shall ever cease to regret it), that this ecclai [...]ecissement communicated the first [...]ay of sub­stantial pleasure to my heart that it felt since I left London.

Thus far, our project sailed before the wind: wayward imagination [...] it out in the most alluring drapery that fancy could fabricate, and prevented us from seeing the impract [...]cability of it, as it stood in the nakedness of truth; and when it came to be carried into execution, a thousand diffi­culties occurred, that the wi [...]ness of passion, and the warmth of our feelings, had before concealed [Page 145] from our view. In the first place, it was necessary for her to obtain the consent of a lady to whose care and protection she was committed: in the next place, accommodations were to be procured for her in the same ship with me—a circumstance of most arduous difficulty; besides which, a variety of other impediments—insuperable indeed—concur­red to frustrate our views, and put an end to our project. If my pleasure at meeting her was great, my anguish at parting with her was inexpressible. I had once more to face the world alone; and, on the second day of my sojourning at Zante, emba [...]ked with a heavy heart, and [...]et sail for Alex [...]n [...]. The last disappointments we undergo, seem alw [...]ys the heaviest; and this at Zante I thought at that time to be the greatest of my life. But—oh! short-sighted man! bubble of every delusive shadow! I never reflected, as I have since done, what serious mischiefs, what endless misery, what loss of time, means, and reputation, I may by that providential disappointment have escaped—for these are the al­most never-failing consequences of such affairs. It too often happens, that the syren who deludes a man into her snares, is the very person who inflicts the deadly wound into his heart. Avoid, my dear FREDERICK! avoid all such, as you would avoid plague, pestilence, or ruin—steel your heart by timely reflection against their advances. In all your transactions with women, like a good general in warfare, secure for your heart a retreat; for it will be too late to find that they are unworthy when your heart is ensnared—and when you find them worthy of your affection, it will be time enough to give a loose to the sensibility of your heart. A virtuous woman is beyond all calculation to be valued, when she is found; but, alas! in finding her, you may pass through so many fires ordeal, and run such danger, that it is almost a doubt, whe­ther a wise man (if he can fetter his passions) had [Page 146] not better dispense with the blessing, than run the hazard of searching for it.

On my arrival at Alexandria, I found, to my fresh mortification, that the plague was raging all over Egypt—and as, if this was not of itself suffi­cient to block up my intended route, an irruption of the Arabs, who in formidable bodies infested all the roads, put a period to all my hopes of seeing Grand Cairo, and viewing the curiosities of that country, which all who, like us, have the Bible put early into their hands, are taught to venerate as soon as they are taught to read. Here I thought to have viewed the pyramids, whose antiquity, ori­gin, or intended use, have baffled the learned and ingenious inquiries of so many ages—of beholding Mount Sinai, the stone of Moses, the tract of the Israelites, all of which are said to be clearly pointed out, and geography by that means brought into the support of Sacred History. These, and many things, I did wish to see—they are worth it: but I have had since reason to believe, that my ill luck was not so great as I then thought it; for the search is dangerous, and made prodigiously expensive by the ex [...]ctions of the Mahomedan magistrates. It is as well, therefore, to travel over this country in books, which afford us good information, and more of it, at an easier rate than you could purchase it in the country.

Alexandria was built by ALEXANDER the Great, soon after the overthrow of Tyre, about 333 years before CHRIST, and is situated on the Mediterra­nean, twelve miles west of that mouth of the Nile, anciently called Canopicum. A very extraordinary circumstance is related as a proof of the suddenness of ALEXANDER'S resolution to build it: After he had directed the number of public strictures, and fixed the places where they were to stand, there were no instruments at hand proper for marking out the walls, according to the custom of those [Page 147] times: upon this, a workman advised the King to collect what meal was among the soldiers, and sift it in lines upon the ground, in order to mark out the circuit of the walls: the advice was followed, and the king's soothsayer interpreted it to be a pre­sage of the future prosperity and abundance of the city. This prophecy was certainly afterwards ve­rified; for it soon became the emporium of com­merce, of arts, and of sciences.

By the description of STRABO and other anci­ents, it appears that this city was built upon a plan well worthy the vast mind of its founder; and the fragments of its ornaments afterwards made part of the grandest embellishments of Rome and Constantino­ple. In the museum of the royal palace, which occupied a fourth part of the city, the body of ALEXANDER was deposited in a golden coffin— but the detestable SELDUCUS CIBYOFACTES viola­ted the monument, took away the golden coffin, and substituted a glass one in its place.

This city like most others of antiquity, has been the scene of terrible massacres. About two hun­dred years after its foundation, it was totally depo­pulated by PTOLEMY PHYSCON—the very few who escaped stronger, flying into other countries. Desirous, however, not to reign over empty houses, he seduced inhabitants from the neighbouring coun­tries; and again, for some slight offence, determin­ed on a general massacre of the young men; and accordingly, when they were one day assembled in the Gymnasium, or place of public exercise, he ordered it to be set on fire, so that all perished, either in the flames, or by the swords of his mer­cenaries, whom he had placed at all the avenues. Afterwards, in the year of CHRIST 215, the Em­peror CARACAILA, having been lampooned by some of the inhabitants, ordered a gene [...]al massacre by his numerous troops, who were dispersed over the city. The inhuman orders being given, all were [Page 148] murdered, without distinction of age or sex; so that, in one night's time, the whole city floated in blood, and every house was filled with carcases: the monster himself, retiring to the temple of Se­rapis, was all the time imploring the protection of the Deity—a proof that practical devotion and the most atrocious inhumanity may meet in the same bosom. As if this had not been sufficient ven­geance, he stripped the city of all its ancient pri­vileges—ordered all strangers who lived there to depart—and, that the few who remained might not have the satisfaction of seeing one another, he cut off all communication of one street with ano­ther, by walls built for the purpose, and guarded with troops.

Notwithstanding these massacres, Alexandria again recovered its former splendour—and was again [...] by AMROU, the infamous Saracen—and all the [...]repid youth of the city perished with arms in [...] hands. The magnificence of the city may [...] from the account written by AMROU [...] C [...]liph: "I have taken," said he, "the C [...]ty of [...] West; it is of an immense extent; I cannot describe to you how many wonders it con­ta [...] ▪ there are 4000 p [...]ce, 4000 baths," &c. &c.

The great advantages of the East India trade, which was then carried on by the Red Sea, pre­served Alexandria through several resolutions; but having fallen under the dominion of the Turks, and the passage round the Cape of Good Hope being discovered, a fatal blow was given to its commerce, and it has since fallen to decay. It is, however, even now, worth the attention of the classical traveller. Entering the harbour, we pas­sed by the Island of Pharos, were PTOLEMY built the enormous tower which was once the wonder of the world; and, when riding within the port, no­thing could be more gratifying than to see from thence that mixture of ancient and modern monu­ments [Page 149] that presented themselves to the view, on which ever side the eye could be turned.

Of myriads of antiquities which this place af­fords for the inspection of the curious, I shall men­tion only two—One, the column of POMPEY, on viewing of which, the remembrance of that great and good man's most unmerited and cruel fate ex­tracted a sigh from the bottom of my heart: this pillar engages the attention of all travellers; it is composed of red granite; the capital is Corinthian, with palm leaves, and not indented; the shaft and the upper member of the base are of one piece, ninety feet long; and nine in diameter; the base, a square of fifteen feet on each side; the whole column is one hundred and fourteen feet high, perfectly well polished, and only a little shivered on the eastern side. Nothing can equal the majesty of this monument: seen from a distance it over-tops the town, and serves as a signal for vessels; approaching it nearer, it produces an astonishment mixed with awe: one would never be tired of ad­miring the beauty of the capital, the length of the shaft, nor the extraordinary simplicity of the pe­destal. Some years ago, a party of English seamen contrived, by flying a kite, to draw a line over the pillar, and by that means made a kind of a shroud, by which they got up, and on the very top of it drank a bowl of punch, to the utter astonishment of a multitude who came to see them; they broke off one of the volutes of the column, but amply compensated for this mischief by a discovery they made, as, without their evidence, the world would not have known, at this hour, that there was ori­ginally a statue on this column, one foot and ancle of which, of enormous size, are still remaining.— The other is the obelisk of CLEOPATRA, of im­mense size, and of one single piece of granite mar­ble. Here I observed, too, a thick wall, with towers mouldering under extreme age, which con­ [...]ained, [Page 150] in its face, fragments of architecture of the most exquisite workmanship, such as broken co­lumns, friezes, &c.; those were the antique ruins of some fallen pieces of antiquity, at the time that this ant [...]que wall was built: what then must be the length of time since they had first undergone the hands of the workman? These circumstances tend to demonstrate, that, far back beyond the reach of our calculation, the arts flourished: and when one thinks of the miraculous masses of work done in former ages—the magnitude of the pieces of which those works were composed, such as whole columns and obelisks of a single block of marble—the Co­lossus of Rhodes, made of brass, one foot of which was placed on one side of the harbour, and another on the other side, so that ships passed between its legs—we cannot help yielding up the palm to the ancients for stupendous magnificence, however we may surpass them for the useful, the elegant, and the good.

At Alexandria I remained about twelve days, till, wearied of the confined state I lived in on account of the plague, I resolved to devise some m [...]a [...]s, if possible, to get away, and at length hired a b [...]at to carry me to the island of Cyprus, from whence I concluded, that I should find no sort of difficulty in procuring a conveyance to Latichea, and so proceed by my first intended route. I ac­cordingly arrived at Cyprus in perfect safety, where, to my great sorrow and astonishment, I found that an epidemical fever, equal in its effects to a plague, prevailed: however, there was no alternative; I must run the risque, and I dismissed the boat that carried me from Alexandria.

Although the etymologies of the names of places are of very little importance, and most frequently uncertain, I think it probable that the learned are r [...]ght, who assert the name of this is derived from Cyprus, or Cypress—with which shurbs the island [Page 151] abounds. It had, in ancient times, a number of other names—one of which was Paphia, whence Venus▪ who was worshipped in it, was called the Paphian Goddess. It lies thirty miles west of Sy­ria, whither I was bound, stretching from the south-west to the north-east, one hundred and fifty miles in length, and seventy in breadth in the widest part of it.

This island holds a very high rank in classic lore —It gave birth to some great philosophers and con­siderable poets—The Apostle BARNABAS was a na­tive of it, and, assisted by ST. PAUL, first intro­duced Christianity among them. Famagusta, a town on the eastern part of the island, opposite to the shore of Syria, is the ancient Salamis, built by TEUCER the son of TELAMON, and brother of AJAX.

Symisso, on the south-east, the best port in Cy­prus, is the Amathus mentioned by VIRGIL, in his Aeneid, and by OVID in his Metamorphoses. And Baffo. on the Western coast, is the Paphos of antiquity, famous for the Temple of Venus.

As the branches of an empire most remote from the great seat of government are always more des­potically governed than those near the source of redress, Cyprus has been continually ruled with a rod of iron since it came into the hands of the Turks. While it was under the dominion of Christians, it was well peopled, having no less than eight hundred or a thousand villages in it, besides several handsome cities; but the Turks have spread ruin and desolation over the country, and it is now so thinly inhabited that more than half the lands lie uncultivated.

The air of this island is now for the most part unwholesome, owing to the damps arising from the many fens and marshes with which the country abounds—while, there being but few springs or rivers in the island, the want of a plentiful fall of [Page 152] rain, at proper periods, distresses the inhabitants very much in another way; and by means of the uncultivated state of the country, they are greatly infested with poisonous reptiles of various kinds.

The most remarkable mountain in Cyprus is cal­led Olympus—a name common to several other mountains in Greece, particularly to that in Thessa­ly, so famous in the poetry of the ancients. That in Cyprus is about fifty miles in circumference: great part of it is covered with woods; and at the foot of it are fine vineyards, which produce admi­rable wine, not only in a sufficiency for their own consumption, but some also for exportation. And although the greater part of the island lies unculti­vated, as I have before observed, it produces a suf­ficient quantity of corn, unless in seasons when their harvest fails, in which case the people are easi­ly supplied from the continent. They have, be­sides, cattle enough for their own consumption. Many parts of the country abound in wild fowl, and several sorts of game, and they have plenty of fish upon the sea coasts.

The trade of Cyprus is not inconsiderable, and carried on chiefly by Jews and Armenians: the commodities in which they deal are wine, oil, cot­ton, wool, salt, silk, and turpentine—besides, it produces several sorts of earth, fit for the use of painters, particularly red, black, and yellow.

Its most wonderful production, however, is the famous stone (Asbestos) inextinguishable, or (Ami­antos) impollutus, so called from its extraordinary property of resisting fire. It is related that the an­cients m [...]de out of this stone a kind of thread that would r [...]rn unconsumed in the most intense fire. It is even said, that some experiments have been made in modern days, which have sufficiently prov­ed that the thing is not a fiction. In such extraor­dinary questions as this, though I do not positively contradict, I always suspend my belief, till something [Page 153] stronger than mere assertion is offered to convince me.

There is one dreadful mischief to which this island is subject. In the hot season, locusts come from the Continent, in swarms so vast and so thick as to darken the sky like clouds. Those would certainly devour all the fruits of the earth, if they were not driven to sea by a north wind that usually blows at the time of their coming. When that wind hap­pens to fail, which fortunately is seldom, the conse­quence is a total demolition of the fruits of the country.

The whole island, as well as particular towns, was entirely consecrated to the goddess VENUS, who thence was called VENUS CYPRIA, or DEA CYPRIA, and is represented by the poets as taking a preculiar pleasure in visiting it; and this unquesti­onably arose from the loose habits and lascivious temperament of the women there, who certainly are, at this time, not remarkable for chastity.

I must confess, however, that I felt great plea­sure in entering Cyprus; it was, as I have already stated, classic ground, and dedicated to the Queen of Love. But a traveller who visits it with shapes of amusement, will be much disappointed; for in no one particular did it seem to me to resemble that Cyprus famed in the Heathen Story and Mytholo­gy. Of the Cyprian queen's favours the ladies seemed to boast no one mask, save the most nauseous, disgusting lewdness; and the natural fertility of the soil is half lost beneath the oppressive yoke of the servants of the Turkish government. Thus, in the extraordinary revolutions that human affairs are in­cessantly undergoing, that island which for its supe­rior beauties was supposed to be the residence of love, which gave birth to the philosophers ZENO, APPOLLONIUS, anD XENOPHON, is now a mise­rable, half-cultivated spot, peopled with a mixture of wretched Turks, Jews, Greeks, and Christians [Page 154] —groaning under the tyranny of a barbarous despo­tic abuse of delegated power—infested with locusts which devour the fruits of the earth—and disgraced by a race of ignominious women, who esteem it to be an act of religion to prostitute themselves to all strangers.

Our RICHARD the First made a conquest of this island on his way to the Holy Land, and conferred the royalty of it on GUY LUSIGNAN, king of Je­rusalem. The Venetians possessed themselves of it in the year 1480—but, in the sixteenth century, the Turks dispossessed them, and have ever since kept it under the yoke—I should have remarked that then wine is excellent.

Continuing my route, I hired another boat, after only forty-eight hours stay at Cyprus, and proceed­ed for Latichea, which, as I have somewhere be­fore mentioned, is a considerable sea-port town of Syria, built on a promontory of land, which, run­ning into the sea, occasions its being continually refreshed with breezes. Fortune, who had hither­to been not very liberal in her dispensations, now favoured me; for, just as I arrived at Latichea, a caravan was preparing. The consul of the Turkish Company at Cyprus received me with great polite­ness and hospitality—gave me a letter to the resident at Latichea; and by his instruction and assisstance, after a very short stay, I set out on my way to Alep­po with the caravan.

As I shall hereafter have occasion more particular­ly to describe the nature or those caravans, I shall, for the present, tell you, that this was composed of no other beasts of burden than mules and asses, of which there were not less than three or four hundred in number.

Mounted on a mule, I travelled along, well pleased with the fertile appearance of the country, and delighted with the serenity of the air—We were, as well as I can now recollect, near ten days on the road; during which time we travelled only [Page 155] in the morning early, and in the heat of the day reposed under the shade of trees.

I was informed, that if, instead of going to Lati­chea, I had gone to Scandaroon (otherwise Alexan­dretta), I should, in the road from thence to Aleppo, have travelled through a country, in which the most singular and extravagant customs prevail that exist in any country emerged from barbarism—Several of those I heard; but one in particular was, that the men prostituted their wives and daughters to all comers—and that this originated from a principle of religion, though there was every reason to believe, that, like many of their religious institutions, it was made at last subservient to the gratification of avarice.

On my way to Aleppo, I was met by a Mr. —, an English gentleman, who had heard of my coming, and who, in the most kind and hospitable manner, insisted upon my living at his house instead of the British consul's, where I should otherwise have re­sided during my stay there; and his manner of asking me was so engaging, interesting, and impres­sive, that I found it impossible to refuse him.

As the great public caravan had departed from Aleppo before my arrival, and the expence of fo [...]ming a private one on my account was too great, as I was travelling on my own account, and had no dispatches to authorise or enforce my departure, or bear me out in the expence; I was constrained to remain at Aleppo till some eligible mode of travel­ling occurred, or another public caravan was formed. This delay gave me an opportunity of seeing and informing myself of the city and surrounding coun­try; the result of which, I shall, in as short a man­ner as possible, relate to you in a future letter. It also gave occasion to one of those unhappy incidents wihch I have often had occasion to lament, no [...] from any consciousness of direct criminality, but for the scope it gave to misrepresentation, and the injury which that misrepresentation did me in the opinion of some of my friends.

LETTER XXVII.

SO long as the route of my journey lay through European regions, little presented itself re­specting human nature of such very great novelty as to excite admiration or awaken curiosity. In all the various nations through which we have passed, a certain parity of sentiment, arising from the ore great substratum, Christianity, gave the same general colouring to all the scenes, however they might differ from each other in their various shadings. Whatever dissimilitude the influence of accident, climate, or local circumstance, may, in the revolutions of ages, have introduced into their manners, customs muni­cipal laws, and exterior forms of worship—the great code of religion and moral sentiment remains nearly the same with all: and right and wrong, good and evil, being defined by the same principles of reason, and ascertained by the same boundaries, bring the r [...]le of conduct of each to so close an approx [...]mation with that of the orders, that, when compared with those we are now to attend to, they may really be considered as one and the same people.

[Page 157]In the empire now before us, were we to leave our judgment to the guidance of general opinion of Christian nations, we should have, on the contrary, to contemplate man under a variety of forms and modifications, so entirely different from those to which habit has familiarised our minds, as at first to impress us with an idea of a total disruption from our nature, and induce us, as it has already the ge­nerality of our people, to divorce them from a par­ticipation of all those sympathetic feelings which serve to enforce the discharge of mutual good offices among men. Deducing all their principles, not only of moral conduct, but municipal government, from a religion radically different from, and essenti­ally adverse to, ours; deluded by that system into a variety of opinions which liberality itself must think absurd; unaided by that enlightened philosophy which learning, and learned men, acting under the influence of comparative freedom, and assisted by the art of printing, have diffused through the mass of Europeans; and living under a climate the most unfavourable to intellectual or bodily exertion, they exhibit a spectacle which the philosophic and liberal mind must view with disapprobation, regret, and pity—the illiberal fierce Christian with unequalifi­ed detestation and disgust: while, on their part, bigoted to their own principles and opinions, they look on us with abhorrence, and indulge as consci­entious a contempt of, and antipathy to Christians, which I apprehend no lapse of time, without a great change of circumstance, will be able to eradi­cate. Should Mahomedanism and Christianity ever happen to merge in Deism (but not otherwise), the inhabitants of Syria and Europe will agree to con­sider each other even as fellow creatures. In Spain and Portugal, Jew, Turk, and indeed Pro­testant, are without distinction called hogs. In Turkey, Jews and Christians are discriminately called dogs; each thinking the other completely [Page 158] excluded from the pale of humanity, and well wor­thy the dagger of any TRUE BELIEVER who would have the piety to apply it.

You will allow, my dear FREDERICK, that it must have been rather an important contemplation to your father, to have perhaps two thousands miles to travel through the immense and almost trackless wilds of a country inhabited by such people, without the con­solation of any others to accompany him in his jour­ney; for, unless a public dispatch was to overtake me, there was little probability of my having a sin­gle European partner of my fatigue and perils.

However, as the period was not yet arrived at which I was to go forward, or even determine my mode of travelling, I endeavoured to soothe my mind as much as I could into content, and to take advan­tage of my stay at Aleppo, to acquire all the know­ledge possible of the place, that is to say, of that city in particular, and of the Turkish government and manners in general.

A distant view of Aleppo fills the mind with expectations of great splendour and magnificence. The mosques, the towers, the large ranges of houses with flat roofs, rising above each other, ac­cording to the sloping hills on which they stand, the whole variegated with beautiful rows of trees, form altogether a scene magnificent, gay, and de­lightful: but, on entering the town, all those ex­pected beauties vanish, and leave nothing in the streets to meet the eye, but a dismal succession of high stone walls, gloomy as the recesses of a con­vent or state prison, and unenlivened by windows, embellished, as with us, by the human face divine. The streets themselves, not wider than some of the meanest alleys in London, overcast by the height of the prison-houses on either side, are rendered still more formidably gloomy by the solitude and silence that pervade them; while here and there a lattice towards the top, barely visible, strikes the [Page 159] soul with the gloomy idea of thraldom, coercion, and imprisonment.

This detestable mode of building, which owes its origin to jealousy, and the scandalous restraints every man is empowered by the laws and religion of the place to impose upon the women consigned either by sale or birth to his tyranny, extends not to the inside of the houses, many of which are magnificent and handsome, and all admirably suited to the exigencies of the climate, and the domestic customs and manner of living of the inhabitants.

The city is adorned, it is true, here and there, with mosques and appendant towers, called Mina­rets, from which cryers call the faithful to prayers; and in some of the streets there are arches built at certain distances from each other, so as to carry the eye directly through them, and form a vista of con­siderable grandeur: but all these are far from suffi­cient to counterbalance the general aspect or gloo­miness and solitude which reigns over the whole, and renders it so peculiarly disgusting, particularly at first sight, to an Englishman who has enjoyed the gaiety and contemplated the freedom of a city in Great Britain.

The mosques (Mahomedan temples) are extreme­ly numerous in this city; indeed almost as much so as churches and convents in the Popish countries of Christendom. There is nothing in their exter­nal appearance to attract the notice of the traveller, or indulge the eye of the architect; they are almost all of one form—an oblong quadrangle: and as to the inside, I never had an opportunity of seeing one; none but Mussulmen being permitted to enter them, at least at Aleppo.

The next buildings of a public kind to the mosques that deserve to be particularly mentioned, are the caravanseras—buildings which, whether we consider the spirit of beneficence and charity that first suggested them, their national importance, or [Page 160] their extensive utility, may rank, though not in splendour of appearance, at least in true value, with any to be found in the world.

Caravanseras were originally intended for, and are now pretty generally applied to, the accommo­dation of strangers and travellers, though, like every other good institution, sometimes perverted to the purposes of private emolument or public job: they are built at proper distances through the roads of the Turkish dominions, and afford the indigent or weary traveller an asylum from the inclemency of the weather; are in general very large, and built of the most solid and durable materials; have com­monly one story above the ground floor, the lower of which is arched, and serves for warehouses to stow goods, for lodgings and for stables, while the upper is used merely for lodgings; besides which, they are always accommodated with a fountain, and have cooks shops and other conveniencies to sup­ply the wants of the lodgers. In Aleppo the C [...]avanseras are almost exclusively occupied by merchants, to whom they are, like other houses, rented.

The suburbs of Aleppo, and the surrounding country, are very handsome, pleasant, and, to a person coming out of the gloomy city, in some re­spects interesting. Some tossed about into hill and valley lie under the hands of the husbandman; others are covered with handsome villas; and others again said out in gardens, whither the people of Aleppo occasionally resort for amusement.

The roofs of all the houses are flat, and formed of a composition which resists the weather effectu­ally. On those most of the people sleep in the very hot weather: they are separated from each other by walls; but the Franks, who live contigu­ous to one another, and who, from their disagreea­ble circumstances with regard to the Turks, are under the necessity of keeping up a friendly and [Page 161] harmonious intercourse together, have doors of communication, which are attended with these for­tunate and pleasing advantages, that they can make a large circuit without descending into the streets, and can visit each other during the plaque, with­out running the risk of catching the infection by going among the natives below.

There is a castle in the city which I had nearly forgotten to mention—The natives conceive it to be a place of great strength. It could not, how­ever, withstand the shock of a few pieces of ord­nance for a day. It is esteemed a favour to be per­mitted to see it; and there is nothing to recom­pense one for the trouble of obtaining permission, unless it be the prospect of the surrounding coun­try, which from the battlements is extensive and beautiful.

Near this castle stands the seraglio, a large old building, where the bashaw of Aleppo resides: the whole of it seemed to me to be kept in very bad repair, considering the importance of the place. It is surrounded by a strong wall of great height: be­sides which, its contiguity to the castle is very con­venient; as, in case of popular tumults, or intestine commotions, the bashaw finds an asylum in the latter, which commands and overawes the city, and is ne­ver without a numerous garrison under the command of an Aga.

Such is the summary account I have been able to collect of Aleppo, the capital of Syria; which, mean though it is when compared with the capitals of European countries, is certainly the third city for splendour, magnificence, and importance, in the vast extent of the Ottoman Empire—Constantinople and Grand Cairo only excelling it in those points, and no other bearing any sort of competition with it.

LETTER XXVIII.

HOWEVER faction may agitate or abuse irritate the minds of men against the executive branch of their government, the people of every nation under Heaven are disposed to think their own con­stitutional system the best; and the artful intertexture of religion with governments confirms them in that opinion, and often consigns the understanding to unalterable, error and illiberal prejudice. It would be wonderful, then, if the Turkish constitution, founded on the Koran, was not looked upon with abhorence by the bulk of the Christian world; and more wonderful still, if the outrageous zealots of the Christian church, who for so many centuries engross­ed all the learning of Europe to themselves, should not have handed down with exaggerated misrepre­sentation every circumstance belonging to the great enemies of their faith. But that, at this day of in­tellectual illumination, mankind should be envelo­ped in such error and darkness, with regard to the government of so large a portion of the globe as Turkey, is extraordinary; and only to be accounted for by a reference, in the first place, to those reli­gious prejudices which we suck in from our nurse, and which habit, incessant document, and every part of our education, tend to confirm in our mind; and in the next, to that indisposition the human mind feels to part with its old prejudices, and the general indolence and incapacity of men to acquire knowledge by the arduous and fatiguing paths of study.

The Turkish government is gros [...]ly misrepresen­ted. Were our opinions to be directed by the gen­eral [Page 163] belief of Europeans, we should suppose that the life and property of every being in that vast em­pire were irremediably at the mercy of the Grand Seignior—and that, without laws to protect, or any intermediate power whatever to shield them, they were entirely subject to the capricious will of an inexorable tyrant, who, stimulated by cruelty, sharpened by avarice, and unrestrained by any law human or divine, did every thing to oppress his subjects, and carry destruction among mankind. I firmly believe, that, from the combination of ideas arising from those prejudices, there are few Christi­ans who think or hear of the grand Turk, that do not, by an involuntary act of the mind, instantly think of blood and murder, strangling with bow-strings, and slicing off heads with cimeters.

As there is no part of your education more near my heart than the eradicating illiberal prejudices from your mind, and fortifying you against their assaults; I find it impossible to refrain from giving you my opinion of the Turkish government, which I have been at some pains to collect, as well from oral information as from the best authors; and which, though very far from what a generous and universally philanthropic disposition would wish them to have, is very different from that which is generally attributed to them, and unquestionably far more limited in its powers than the governments of several Christian countries I could mention.

The constitution of that country is laid down ex­pressly in the Koran. The emperor of Turkey (commonly called the Grand Seignior) is a descend­ant of Mahomet, who pretended he had the Koran from Heaven: and he is as much bound by the in­st [...]tutes of that book as any subject in his realm—as liable to deposition as they to punishment for breach of them, and indeed has been more than once de­posed, and the next in succession raised to the throne. Thus far, it is obvious, his power is [Page 164] limited and under control. But that is not all—It is equally certain that the Turkish government is partly republican; for, though the people at large have no share in the legislation, and are excluded by the Koran from it (which Koran has established and precisely ascertained their rights, privileges, and personal security), yet there is an intermediate power which, when roused to exertion, is stronger than the Emperor's, and stands as a bulwark be­tween the extremes of despotism and them. This body is the ULAMA, composed of all the members of the Church and the law, superior to any nobi­lity, jealous of their rights and privileges, and partly taken from the people, not by election, but by profession and talents.—In this body are com­prised the Moulahs, the hereditary and perpetual guardians of the religion and laws of the empire: they derive their authority as much as the Emperor from the Koran, and, when necessary, act with all the firmness resulting from a conviction of that au­thority; which they often demonstrate by opposing his measures, not only with impunity, but success. Their persons are sacred; and they can, by means of the unbounded respect in which they are held, rouse the people to arms, and proceed to depose. But, what is much more, the Emperor cannot be deposed without their concurrence.

If, by this provision of the constitution, the power of the monarch is limited, and the personal security of the subject ascertained, on the one hand; the energy of the empire in its external operations is, on the other, very frequently and fatally palsied by it. Declarations of war have been procrasti­nated, till an injurious and irrecoverable act of hos­tility has been sustained; and peace often protract­ed, when peace would have been advantageous. The Ulama being a numerous body, it has been found always difficult, often impossible, to unite so many different opinions; and nothing being to [Page 165] be done without their concurrence, the executive power finds it often impossible to take a decisive step in a crisis of advantageous opportunity. But as this code of laws and government is received as a divine revelation, binding both prince and peo­ple, and supposed to be sealed in Heaven, the breach of it would be sufficient to confign even the monarch to deposition and death.

As to the military force, which in the hands of all Despots has been made the instrument of the people's slavery, that of the Turk could avail him nothing; and, whenever it does interfere, acts only to his overthrow. The very reverence they have for his person arising from obedience to their religion, they are, à fortiori, governed by it, not him. He holds no communication with them; and the standing force of the Janissaries is, com­pared with the mass of the people, only a handful. Some wild accounts, indeed, have stated it at 300,000; but the best informed fix it below 60,000 of which a great part consists of false mus­ters and abuses—great multitudes being enrolled to obtain certain privileges annexed to the office of Janissary. The fact is, that the chief force of the empire is a militia composed of the people; who, with respect to obedience and subordination, are so loose that they leave their duty whenever they please, without receiving any punishment. How far the people of Turkey are protected from the encroach­ments of power, will appear from the recital of a fact related by one of the best and most liberal of our historians on that subject, and which is of too great notoriety to be doubted.

In the year 1755, the Porte, as it is called, or Palace of the Grand Vizir at Constantinople, was burnt down: in laying the plan for rebuilding it on the former site, the leading consideration was, how to contrive matters so as to render it secure from accidents of a like nature in future; and it [Page 166] was determined that the only certain means to do so was, to leave a space of clear ground all round it, for which purpose the contiguous houses should be purchased from the proprietors, and demolished. All the owners of the houses agreed to the sale, except one old woman, who pertinaciously refused: she said she was born, and had lived all her life, in that spot, and would not quit it for any one. Now, in England, for the convenience of a private canal, the Parliament would force her to sell. But what did they say in Turkey? When all the people cried out, "Why does not the Sultan use his au­thority, and take the house, and pay her the va­lue?" No! answered the magistrates and the Ulama, it is impossible! it cannot be done! it is her property. While the power of the monarch is thus limited, and the rights of the people thus ascertained by the Koran, and in things manifest and open to view rigidly adhered to, justice be­tween man and man is rarely administered; for, though the laws themselves are good, the corrupt administration of them disarms their effect, and distorts them from their purpose. The venality of the judges is beyond conception flagitious and bare­faced; and their connivances at false witnesses so scandalously habitual, that testimony is become an article of commerce, and can be procured with a facility and at a price that at once stamps an appro­brium on the country, and furnishes matter of wonder to the considerate mind, how, if judges are flagitious and shameless enough to be guilty of it, the people can bear such a pern [...]cious system so long. Hence flow all the censures on the laws and govern­ment of that country—hence most of the impedi­ments under which its commerce and agriculture languish; while the actual written laws of the realm are, if duly administered, sufficiently adequate to the security of property, the regulation of com­merce, the repression of vice, and the punishment and prevension of crimes.

[Page 167]In endeavouring to guard your mind against an illiberal, vulgar prejudice, I have stated to you what the Turkish constitution is, and what the laws; but you must not carry what I have said to an overstrained or forced interpretation. I would not have you infer that the people are well govern­ed; I only say, that their constitution contains within it the means of better government than is supposed. I would not have you infer that property is always secure; I barely say there are laws written to secure it. This too I wish to impress on you, that the common people are more free, and that pro­perty and life are better secured, in Turkey, than in some European countries. I will mention Spain for one. Like the country we are now contempla­ting, fear keeps them, as disunited individuals, un­der passive obedience in ordinary cases; but, unlike the Spaniards, when notoriously aggrieved: when their property or religious code is forcibly violated: when the prince would riot in blood, and persist in an unsuccessful war: the Turks appeal to the law; they find a chief; the soldiery join their standard, and depose or destroy him, not on the fu­rious pretext of popular hatred, but upon the legiti­mate ground of the Koran, as an infidel, and a vio­lator of the laws of GOD and Mahomet—They al­ways, however, place his regular successor on the throne. Yet, notwithstanding the general venality which pollutes the fountains of justice, and not­withstanding the great abuse of power to which I have alluded, their internal policy is, in many re­spects, excellent, and may be compared with ad­vantage to that of any nation in Europe. Highway-robberry, house-breaking, or pilfering, are little known and rarely practised among them; and at all times the roads are as secure as the houses. Ample provisions too are made against those petty secret frauds which many who carry a fair face in England, and would bring an action for damages against one [Page 168] that should call them rogues, practise every day. Bakers are the most frequent victims of justice, and are not unfrequently seen hanging at their own doors. They are mulcted and bastinadoed for the first and second offence, and on the third, a staple is driven up into their door-case, and they are hanged from it. Notwithstanding which, men are constantly found hardy enough to pursue the same course of practise; and this is more extraordinary, as the police is so strictly attended to, that the ba­shaw or vizir himself goes about in disguise, in order to discover frauds and detect the connivances of the inferior officers of justice. But what will our great ladies, who consume their nights, destroy their constitution, and squander their husband's property in gambling; who afterwards, to repair their shattered finances, have recourse to the infa­mous expedient of keeping gaming-houses, and en­deavour to recover by degrading means what they have lost by fo [...]ly, to the disgrace of themselves and family, and the shame of their sex and rank—What will they say when I tell them, that gaming is held among the Turks to be as infamous as theft, and a gamester looked upon with more detestation than a highway robber? The Turkish ambassador and his train will, on their return to their country, have to tell a curious tale of this much-famed island, in that and other respects.

LETTER XXIX.

PREJUDICE, that canker of the hu­man heart, has injured mankind by impeding per­sonal intercourse, and thereby clogging the channel of intellectual improvement: it forbids that inter­change [Page 169] of sentiment—that reciprocal communica­tion of opinion—that generous circulation of intel­lectual wealth, which, while it enriches another, advances itself—it dissevers the bond of social un­ion, and makes man sit down the gloomy, selfish possessor of his own miserable mite, with too much hatred to give, and too much pride to receive, those benefits, which Providence, by leaving our nature so unaccommodated, has pointed out as necessary to pass between man and man: under its influence we spurn from us the good, if we dislike the hand that offers it, and will rather plunge into the mire than be guided by the light of any one whose opin­ion is at variance with our own.

Thus it is between the Turks and us—the little of their affairs which the prejudice of the Maho­medans have allowed themselves to communicate, or suffered others to glean among them, has been in general so misused, distorted, and misrepresented by the prejudices of the Christians, that it is not going beyond the truth to say, there exist not a people in the civilized world whose real history and genuine state are so little known as those of the Turks: and the worst of it is, that not one misrepresentation, not one single mistake has fallen on the generous, charitable side; but all, all with­out exception tend to represent the Turk in the most degraded and detestable point of view. As the purity of the Christian does not allow him to be guilty of a wilful, uncharitable misrepresentation, we should attribute it to unavoidable error, were it not that, till some late authors whose liberality does them honour, they all walked in the very same track, and could hardly have been so uniformly erroneous from design. We must therefore attri­bute it to religious zeal and mistaken piety; in which, in this instance alone, they seem to be reputable competitors with the Turks. The mo­roseness, the animosity, and the supercilious self-possession [Page 170] of the bigot, each holds in common with the other.

One striking feature in the constitution of Tur­key is, that neither blood nor splendid birth are of themselves sufficient to recommend a man to great offices. Merit and abilities alone are the pinions which can lift ambition to its height. The cottager may be exalted to the highest office in the empire; at least there is no absolute impediment in his way; and I believe it has often happened. Compare this with France under its late monarchy, where no merit could raise a man from the Canaille: this, I say, is one of the criterions of a free constitution, and Turkey is so far democratic.

The very first principle ingrafted in the minds of the Mahomedan children, is a high contempt of all religions but their own; and from the minute babes are capable of distinguishing, they are taught to call Christians by the name of Ghiaour, or Infi­del: this grows up in their manhood so strong in them, that they will follow a Christian through the streets, and even justl [...] against him with contempt, crying, Ghiaour! Ghiaour! or, Infidel! Infidel!— Men of dignity and rank, indeed, will treat Chris­tians with courtesy; but as soon as they are gone out of hearing, will call them dog! This is mon­strous! But let us recollect how a Turk would be treated in Spain or Portugal, and we shall see that inhuman bigotry may be found in a greater degree among Christians than even Mahomedans. In Spain or Portugal they would treat them thus:—the com­mon people would call them hogs; they would jus­tle them also in contempt; and what is more, they would stab them (it has often happened) por amor de Dios; and as to the people of rank, they would very conscientiously consign them to the Inquisi­tion, where the pious fathers of the church would very piously consign them to the flames, and coolly go to the altar, and pray to GOD to damn them [Page 171] hereafter to all eternity. So far the balance, I think, is in favour of the Turks. Need I go fur­ther?—I will.—

The Mahomedans are divided into two sects, as the Christians are into many. Those are the sect of Ali, and the sect of Omar. Now, I have never heard among them of one sect burning the other de­liberately: but the Roman Catholics, even now, burn Protestants by juridical sentence—burn their fellow Christians to death for differing from them in a mere speculative point of doctrine. Which then are the better men? I am sure it is unneces­sary to say; though bad are the best.

The Turks are allowed, by those who know them best, to have some excellent qualities; and I think, that in the prodigality of our censure, which, tho' stow acquainted with them, we are forward to be­little, it would be but fair to give them credit for many of those good qualities, which even among ourselves it requires the greatest intimacy and the warmest mutual confidence and esteem to disclose or discover in each other. That they have many vices is certain. What people are they that have not? Gaming they detest; wine they use not, or at least use only a little, and that by stealth; and as to the plurality of women, it can in them be scarcely deemed a vice, since their religion allows it. One vice, and one only, of a dark dye is laid to their charge; and that has been trumpeted forth with the grievous and horrid addition, that though con­tradictory to nature, it was allowed by their reli­gion. This I have reason to believe is one of the many fabrications and artifices of Christian zealots, to render Mahomedanism more odious: for I have been informed from the most competent and re­spectable authority, and am therefore persuaded, that the detestable crime to which I allude, is forbidden both by the Koran and their municipal laws; that it is openly condemned by all, as with us; and [Page 172] that▪ though candour must allow there are many who practice it (by the bye there are too many in England w [...]o are supposed to do the same), there are none hardy or shameless enough not to endea­vour to conceali [...]t; and, in short, that it is apparently as much reprobated there as any where; which, at all events, rescues the laws and religion of the country from that stigma.

Perhaps there is no part of the world where the flame of parental affection burns with more ardent and unextinguishable strength, or is more faithfully returned by reciprocal tenderness and filial obedi­ence, than Turkey. Educated in the most unaffect­ed deference and pious submission to their parents will; trained both by precept and example to the greatest veneration for the aged, and separated al­most from their infancy from the women, they ac­quire a modesty to their superiors, and a bashfulness and respectful deportment to the weaker sex, which never cease to influence them through life. A Turk meeting a woman in the street, turns his head from her, as if looking at her were criminal: and there is nothing they detest so much, or will more sedul­ously shun, than an impudent, audacious woman. To get the better of a Turk therefore, there is no­thing further necessary, than to let slip a virago at him, and he instantly retreats.

Since the arrival of the Turkish ambassador in London, I have had frequent occassion to observe, that the people of his train have been already, by the good example of our British belles and beaux, pretty much eased of their national modesty, and can look at the women with as broad and intrepid a stare, as the greatest puppy in the metropolis.

Their habitual tenderness and deference for the fair sex, while it speaks much for their manly gal­lantry▪ must be allowed by candour to be carried to an excess extravagant and irrational. It is the greatest disgrace to the character of a Turk to lift [Page 173] his hand to a woman: this is, doubtless, right, with some limitations; but they carry it so far as to allow no provocation, be it what it may, sufficient to justify using force or strokes to a woman; the utmost they can do is, to scold and walk off. The consequence of this is, that the women often run into the most violent excesses. There have been instances where they have been guilty of the most furious outrages; where they have violated the laws in a collected body, and broke open public stores of corn laid up by the government: the ma­gistrates attended, the Janissaries were called, and came running to quell the riot—but, behold they were women who committed it: they knew no way of resisting them, unless by force; and force they could not use: so the ladies were permitted quietly to do their work in defiance of magistrates, law, right, and reason.

Among the variety of errors and moral absurdi­ties falsely ascribed to the Mahomedan religion, the exclusion of women from Paradise holds a very conspicuous place, as a charge equally false and ab­surd; on the contrary, the women have their fasts, their ablutions, and the other religious rites deem­ed by Mahomedans necessary to salvation. Not­withstanding, it has been the practice of travellers to have recourse to invention, where the customs of the country precluded positive information; and to give their accounts rather from the suggesti­ons of their own prejudiced imagination, than from any fair inferences or conclusions drawn from the facts that came under their observation.

LETTER XXX.

THE subject I touched upon in my last three letters, and on which this, and probably some succeeding ones, will turn, is attended with cir­cumstances of great delicacy, and may possibly bear the aspect of at least a dubious import, as touching the great point of religion. I will therefore, be­fore I proceed further, explain to you (lest it should require explanation) the whole scope of my meaning.

My object throughout the whole of what I have said respecting the Turks, is to war with prejudice, not to draw comparisons:—to shew that where the Mahomedans are vicious or enslaved, it is not the fault of their religion or their laws:—to convince you, the Turks are not the only people in the world, who, under all the external forms of sancti­ty and religion, are capable of the most detestable [...], and sometimes, utterly be [...]eft of all pre­tentions to charity—and that, while they have been held up as a perpetual subject of reproach and ac­cusation, they were con [...]ting only just the same crimes that con [...]cience might have resorted on their accusers. If allowance can be at all made for his­torical m [...]srepresentation, we may perhaps be dispo­sed to [...] that of the ignorant Catholic missi­on [...] of the early ages, as en [...]t [...]ed to some ex [...]use, or [...]. The intemperate z [...]al of [...]se times [...] [...]e the fall exercise of the rational f [...]es; but in this age of illumination and libe­rality, he that falsifies from polemical malice should meet little quarter and less belief. And it must be grievous to all men of virtue and religion to reflect, [Page 175] that churchmen, disciples of the Christan church, which should be the fountain of purity and truth, have been foremost in the list of falsifiers.

The difficulty of obtaining information of any kind in Turkey, is very great; of their religion chiefly they are extremely tenacious; and as to their women, it is allowed by the best informed men, who have lived there for many years, in departments of life that gave them the best means of obtaining information Europeans can have, that, at best, but a very imperfect knowledge can be had of them. Yet travellers who probably never migrated farther than "from the green bed to the brown," have given us dissuse accounts of their religion; and adventurers who never were beyond the purlieus of Drury, have scaled Seraglio walls, and carried off the favo­rites of Sultans.

The truth is, my dear FREDERICK, the Turks, like all other people, have their share of vices, but are by no means countenanced in them by their re­ligion; and from what I have been able to collect, as well from my own inquiries and observations, as from reading the best historians, I am persuaded that they have not, in the whole scope of Mahome­danism, one doctrine so subversive of virtue, or so encouraging to the indulgence of vice, as many that are to be found in that curious code, Popery.

The malice of our intemperate zealots against Mahomedanism has been of course extended to its founder with more than common exaggeration and additions. They have represented Mahomet to be a man of mean origin, possessing a mind unenlight­ened by science or literature, and an understanding and faculties naturally gross. All those suggestions are undoubtedly false;—he sprung from the most noble of all the Arabian tribes—the Cor [...]ishites: at his time, poverty, so far from being a reproach among them, was a mark of every thing that was great and dignified, if supported with magnanimity [Page 176] and fortitude; and the two first caliphs lived as poor as Mahomet himself, although they had im­mense revenues, commanded vast armies, and were lords of great provinces. As to his understanding I can only say, that perhaps he was the very last man in the world whose intellectual powers should be called in question. His genius was unbounded, his spirit enterprising, his powers of address were unequalled, he was allowed to be the greatest ora­tor of his time; and yet, with all these qualifica­tions, his understanding was slighted. It is a logi­cal truth, that when people prove too much, they prove nothing at all: our Christian zealots, in this instance, have overshot the mark, and thereby rendered all their other information at least doubt­ful. Perhaps the consummation of all policy was Mahomet's pretending to be an idiot, in order to make his great and wonderful effusions appear to be the immediate inspiration of Heaven—He call­ed himself THE IDIOT PROPHET. ^*

The whole of Mahomedanism may be reduced simply to this one article of faith—"There is but one GOD, and MAHOMET is the prophet;" but upon this they have superinduced, from time to time, such a variety of absurdities as would require volumes to describe: however, in strict candour let us reflect, and ask our own hearts the question, whether sprinkling with holy water, or worshipping a bit of white wafer as GOD, can be exceeded, or are less absurd than the periodical ablutions of the Turks, or their going on a pilgrimage to Mecca?

With regard to the women, I have said before that the best information we can obtain is very im­porfect; all I have been able to collect, you shall have. They are formed in a style of the most ex­quisite symmetry, par [...]icularly about the chest and bosom; they have delicate skins, regular features, black hair and eyes, and are, above all other beings, [Page 177] cleanly and neat in their persons, bathing twice a day regularly, besides on other occasions, and not sufferng even the smallest hair to remain upon their bodies. They are kept in the most rigorous con­finement, and only persons of ill fame paint. Wo­men of character are there chaste—nor is their chastity to be attributed to restraint merely, for, from their infancy they are trained to discretion and self-subjection, and the modesty natural to the sex is cherished from its first dawnings. When they grow up, they are not, like our women here, sub­jected to the contagion of infamous gallantry; nei­ther are the men trained to, nor do they pride themselves, like some among us, on the arts of se­duction. In fact, that practice makes no part of the accomplishments of their fine gentlemen; nay, it is held by them to be infamous. There are no such characters to be found in Turkey as your box-lobby loungers—none of your upstart cubs like those who doudle the best part of the day through Pall-Mall, St. James's-street and Bond-street; who, without birth, wealth, education, or parts, fancy themselves fine fellows, and powder their noses in ladies' head-dresses, whispering them in order to get the reputation of gallantry; who strut like Bantam cocks, and assume a fierce air to conceal their con­scious want of spirit; and dressed in a suit of regi­mentals bought by papa, at mama's request, to ex­hibit sweet Master Jacky to advantage in the Park— though never to be soiled with gunpowder, or per­sonated with a ball in the nasty field of battle!!!— my dear FREDERICK, I have often told you that you shall make choice of your own profession. If you should choose any of the learned professions, you may fail in it without dishonour; for many of the ablest men have failed before: but, mark me! avoid the military as you would ruin, unless you have the requisites; let not the glitter of a scarlet coat, or the empty name of a soldier, tempt you to [Page 178] be like one of those miserable animals I have de­scribed. There may be charasters more wicked—I know none so utterly contemptible.

All extremes are bad; but the exceedings of virtue even where they run into error, are still preferable to vice. However ludricous it may ap­pear, we cannot absolutely despise or condemn the prudery of the Turkish women, though it runs into such extravagance, that, when feeding their poultry, they keep carefully vieled if there hap­pens to be a cock among them, so fastidiously averse are they to the odious male creature seeing their pretty faces.

When the circumstances under which the Tur­kish women stand are considered, it must appear amazing, that chastity, from principle, is universal among them, as it is confessed to be: the nature of man urges him to desire, with greatest ardour, that which is most forbidden; and women who are much confined, may well be supposed to have their pas­sions inflamed by the exaggerated workings of the imagination. Infidelity, however, to the marriage-bed, is much less frequent among the men there, than among the women here; and the tide or fash­ion, which in this country gives such a rapid and irresistible circulation to vice and adultery, runs there in an opposite direction; and contrary to our customs, no man is so unfashionable in Turkey as he that has interrupttd the domestic peace of a fa­mily by seduction.

Among the many virtues which may with strict justice be ascribed to the Turks, hospitality holds a conspicuous place. It is not confined to common civility, it extends to personal protection. Many deem it absolutely their duty to risk their lives in defence of their guests; nor will any motive, how­ever cogent, be allowed to justify the violation of it. Nay, to such a system is it carried up, that an engagement with a stranger is accepted as an excuse [Page 179] for not obeying the summons of a great man, when no other apology, not even that of indisposition, would be admitted.

While the Turks abhor and despise all other re­ligions but their own, their government is by no means intolerant in spiritual concerns. The exer­cise of all religions is free, and at Constantinople (we are told) Monks dress in their habits, and are allowed at funeral processions to elevate the cross, which is more than the English tyranny allowed the Roman Catholics of Ireland to do, till very lately: a Turk, however, convicted of apostacy, could not by any means escape death. Meantime it must be observed, that if they keep up a decent semblance of the forms of their religion, no intru­sive inquiry is made unto their real faith: and though it is one of the injunctions of Mahomet to endeavour to convert unbelievers, and they some­times in obedience to that command solicit the con­version of Christians and others; they never sail to consider any renegado, or person who becomes a convert, with contempt, if not dislike.

I will conclude this letter with an extract from that most valuable and accurate work, Russel's Hist­ory of Aleppo, which will give you a better, be­cause a true, notion of Turkish morals, than you are likely to receive from general opinion. "Up­on the whole," says he, "whether it be ascribed to the influence of their political constitution, or to the absence of various temptations, which in Eu­rope often lead to the violation of better laws; there are perhaps few great cities where many of the private and domestic virtues are in general more prevalent than at Aleppo."

LETTER XXXI.

THE use of periodical stated times of de­votion is universally admitted, and the necessity of adopting them makes a part of the Christian code. The Mahomedan religion, however, exceeds it far in the rigid attention to, and frequency of, de­votion. There are no less than five stated times of prayer in every twenty-four hours, fixed as in­dispensable, at none of which a true believer fails; and the fervency of their praying exceeds even the frequency. I have heard it ass [...]rted, that if the house was to take fire while they are at their devo­tion, they would not break off; and so rigidly in­tent do they conceive it their duty to be during the time of prayer, that if in the midst of it they were interrupted by a fit of sneering or coughing, they consider all already done as gone for nothing, and always begin them again. And to tell a truth of them, if the Christian curse them, they are pret­ty even with them in return, never failing to pray for discord, enmity, and dissension among their enemies, as well as health and prosperity to them­selves; and to the efficacy of those prayers they fondly attribute all the wars and dissensions which incessantly harass Christendom. A bell tolls as a public notice of prayer; and when a true Mahome­dan hears it, let him be where he will, whether at home or abroad, in the highway or in the market, be the place dirty or clean, wet or dry, he imme­ditely falls down and worships.

As subsidiary to prayer they have their ablutions, in which they are full as scrupulously punctual as in their prayers. One is preparatory to prayer, another [Page 181] after cohabitation with women, a third before e [...] ­ing, and another again incidental. Those they never neglect to perform, unless some insuperable obstacle lies in the way. Charity, that most glo­rious doctrine of any religion, is enjoined by the Koran under the most heavy denunciation of hea­venly vengeance, in case of neglect; and by it they are charged to regard no bounds in liberality to the poor. Many Mussulmen in their zeal to discharge this duty have given a fourth, many a third, and some one half of their property. Nay, the instances are not unfrequent of men giving away their all, and living afterwards themselves upon alms. To do strict justice it most be said, that poverty is no where so respectfully attended to, honoured, or reverenced, as among the Mahome­dans; who have a saying among them, "that the fear of want is a mark of the judgment of GOD."

Abstinence is considered as a virtue among them, and very strictly enjoined as a religious duty. The great fast appointed by the Koran continues for the month of Ramedan, during which time they nei­ther eat, drink, nor converse with their wives, from sun-rise till the stars appear, or the lamps are hung out at the mosques. Any man who breaks it is punished with death; but the worst of it is, that they will not allow even travellers, the sick o [...] the wounded, to plead a right to exemption: some of the Turks, however, and all the Christians, have hit upon expedients to pass the month without much mortification; that is, sleeping in bed all day, and sitting up and carousing all night, to evade the restraint.

The last and greatest ordinance of their religion is the pilgrimage to Mecca, which when once ac­complished is supposed to be a direst passport to Heaven; and there are few of them who do not at one time o [...] other of their lives take that painful and hazardous journey. As this is a very interest­ing [Page 182] journey, however, to travel in the closet, as it includes the description of a caravan, and serves to shew to what extremeties enthusiasm can influence men, I will give you a description of it as handed to me by a very accurate and ingenious person, on whose precise veracity I can rely; first making some remarks upon the preceding part of this letter.

You will observe from what I have already said, that, excepting the mere points of religious faith, the moral ordinances of Mahomedanism compre­hend most of those parts of the Christian religion, on the practice of which the reputation of piety is founded; and that for strict obedience to those ordinances the Mahomedans are more remarkable than we are. Adultery is not frequent among them; wine is seldom or never used; theft is little known; so is murder. Then in the practical parts of devotion, there are in the first place prayers; secondly, abstinence or fasting; thirdly, charity. Those are all Christian doctrines, more zealously observed by them than by us. Their ablutions are at least no injury to the cause of morality or piety; but rather, being done as a religious exercise, serve to keep up the series of intercourse which should subsist between the creature and his Creator: be­sides, I cannot help thinking with our inimitable poet Thomson, that

And as to the pilgrimage to Mecca, however irra­tional it may appear to us, it is at least recommended by sincerity and zeal, and is doubtless in the eye of an all-seeing Providence meritorious. HE, we are to suppose, will judge, not by the value of the act, but the purity of the motive; and will accept it as the offering of a frail, blind mortal, bending in obedience to that which he conceives to be the will of Heaven. Besides, for the life of me I cannot see why a pilgrimage to Mecca is at all more culpa­ble [Page 183] than a pilgrimage to Jerusalem; not to mention the thousand other holy places to which well-mean­ing Christians go, for their soul's sake, at imminent hazard of their lives, and certain mortification and hardship to their bodies.

Banish then, my FREDERICK! banish from your heart all illiberal and uncharitable prejudices, if any have yet found their way to it. Revere and cling to your religion as the best and most conducive to eternal and temporal happiness; and the more good because it enjoins us to be charitable even to the Jews as well as to the Gentiles: but never think that you advance the cause of that religion, or do service to your GOD, by waging war against your fellow-creatures for opinions they can no more help entertaining than you can help having yours, or by denouncing against them that eternal sentence which rests with the Almighty alone to judge of or to pro­nounce.

To a benevolent mind the animosities of mankind present a most afflicting picture▪ and the frivolous pretexts upon which those animosities are grounded render it only the more horrible. One would think that the substantial traffic of life, and the struggle of mankind for the superfluities of it, of themselves afforded ample materials for scuffle, without resort­ing to the shadows of speculation for contention. Yet experience has shewn us that opinion is a much more copious source of animosity and warfare; and that for one man who has been cursed, murdered, or destroyed by his fellow-creatures in a contest for property, there are a thousand who have fallen sa­crifices to the vengeance of hostile opinion.

Were it possible that I could obtain from the bounty of Heaven a grant of the first wish of my heart, that wish should be to see all mankind in harmony and mutual good will, ranging without distinction under the one great name of man and brother. As those who foment the disunion be­tween [Page 184] them are the most pernicious monsters of society, so he who endeavours to bring them one step nearer to a general accommodation of sentiment, who strives to inculcate the principles of mutual toleration, and encourage the growth of reciprocal affection between men as fellow beings, may be justly ranked among the best friends of mankind, and the most faithful servants of Him who gave being to all.

Among the gross misrepresentations of which I complain, and which for the sake of mankind I lament, is that general falsehood, the infidelity of the Turkish women. The respectable author whom I have before taken the freedom of quoting, I mean Dr. Russel, declares that in twenty years re­sidence at Aleppo, he did not remember a public instance of adultery; and that in the private walks of scandal those he heard of were among the low­est class, and did not in number exceed a dozen. "In respect to the Franks (continues he) the un­dertaking is attended not only with such risk to the individual, but may in its consequences so seriously involve the whole settlement, that it is either ne­ver attempted, or is concealed with a secrecy un­exampled in other matters. I have reason to be­lieve that European travellers have sometimes had a Greek courtesan imposed on them for a sultana; and after having been heartily frightened, have been induced to pay smartly, in order to preserve a secret which the day after was known to half the sisterhood in town." He remarks, however, that at Constantinople the state of gallantry is different.

On the subject of the Turkish moral character, I have endeavoured to be as concise as justice would allow me to be; and yet I find that I have gone to some length. I cannot however dismiss it without giving you a trait to which the most obsti­nate polemical prejudice, and the most inveterate hatred, must in spite of them pay the tribute of [Page 185] applause. Their treatment to their slaves is beyond all example among us humane, tender, and gene­rous, and such as may well bring a blush into the faces of Christian dealers in human flesh. When young slaves, male or female, are bought by a Turk, they seem to be introduced into the family rather in the condition of an adopted child; they receive the same education, perform nearly the same offices, and are bound to no greater marks of respect than their master's own children—and in fact feel none of the galling circumstances of a state of servility; the very worst treatment they ever re­ceive is to be put on a footing with the menial do­mestics, or ordered to the same duty as a valet or a page. It often happens, on the other hand, that they are married into the family, and very fre­quently are promoted to high offices in the state. If they adopt the religion of their masters, it is always spontaneously; and even to slaves taken in war, no compulsion is used to make them change their faith.

The following is the best description I am able to give you of an Eastern caravan. It exactly co­incides with my own observations, and with the various accounts I have had from others. I owe it, as well as the account of the proceedings of the pilgrims at Mecca, to the kind offices of a friend, who took the pains to procure them for me.

LETTER XXXII.

IN my last letters I endeavoured to give you an account of the Turkish government, laws, [Page 195] and constitution in general, so far as I was able to collect information on the subject. I will now proceed to a description of those particular parts of that vast empire through which I had occasion to travel.

During my stay at Aleppo, I experienced much politeness and hospitality from the European gen­try resident there, and particularly from Mr. —, at whose house I entirely resided; and as the Franks live on a very good footing with each other, the time passed so agreeably, that were it not for "that within," I should have been happy enough —We rode out occasionally, sometimes hunting, sometimes merely for the ride sake. Sometimes with an intelligent native whom I got to walk with me, or with some of the Franks, I walked about the town, in order to amuse away the time and see what was going forward, notwithstanding the cry of "Frangi Cucu!" or "Cuckold Frank!" which frequently followed us for the length of a street. Sometimes we went of evenings to some of the outlets, where preperation was made for our recep­tion by servants, previously dispatched for the purpose, and there regaled with coffee, wine, fruits, &c.

The first day we went on a party of the last men­tioned kind, Mrs. — did us the honour to ac­company us: the place appointed was in a range of beautiful rural gardens that lie along the side of a river; where the well cultivated earth teeming with a vast abundance of the best esculent plants, flow­ers, flowering shrubs and fruit-trees, afforded a most delicious regale to the senses; and the plane, the willow, the ash, the pomegranate, and a variety of other trees, clustered together in almost impervious thickets, yielded a delightful shady retreat from the piercing rays of the sun. It was on this occa­sion that I got the first specimen of Turkish illibe­rality, which, as I was entirely unprepared for it [Page 196] confounded me, and nearly deprived me of temper and of prudence. As we walked along, I observed several Turks addressing themselves to Mrs. — and me, who walked arm in arm, and speaking with a loudness of voice, contortion of countenance, and violence of gesticulation, attended with a clap­pling of hands, which, though I did not understand their language, I could plainly perceive carried the appearance of a menace or insult. I was at a loss what to think of it: Mrs. — blushed, and seemed much hurt: Mr. — and the other gen­tlemen were silent, and betrayed not the least mark of emotion or resentment. At length, when we got from them, I asked what it meant? and was told, that it was all aimed at Mrs. —, or at least occasioned by her: that, bigoted to the customs of their own country, and utterly ignorant of those of any other, they were affected with great indigna­tion at her dress, occasional derangement of her veil, and, above all, at the shameless and unpardon­ably wicked circumstance of a woman walking so openly and familiarly in the company of men.— Talking of this affair afterwards with Mr. —, the lady's husband, he assured me, that there was not an opprobrious and infamous epithet which the vulgar ingenuity of the brightest que [...]n in Billings-gate could think of, that they had not huddled up­on us. I was beyond measure astonished at the coolness with which he bore it, and said, that if I had understood what they had said, I should most certainly have been unable to restrain myself, and would have knocked one of them down as an ex­ample to the rest. Had you done so, returned he, you would certainly have repented it: for, if you escaped being stoned, or put to death upon the spo [...], the legal punishment for an infidel striking a true believer, you could not escape; and probably we, and all the Franks in the city, would suffer for it: it would at all events cause a dreadful convulsion [Page 197] in the place, and you would yourself fall a sacrifice to it.

Not long since I was conversing on this subject with a gentleman of my acquaintance, and menti­oned it with some asperity, as arising from a spirit of bigotry peculiar to Mahomedans. "My good Sir," said he, "let me undeceive you! the very same would be done in most parts of Spain. I was one day," continued he, "walking in a town in Spain, in company with the wife of a gentleman who resided there, who were both well known, and bore the most unexceptionable character. See­ing me however walking with her, the populace, as we passed, held up two fingers significantly, and cried to her, What a cuckold is your husband! and concluded with 'Todas las Inglesas son putas,' or, "All English women are —s." He added, "that he was even in Cadiz, where commercial in­tercourse renders them rather more liberal than in other part of the country, frequently accosted by little children themselves, with 'Crees in Dios?' Do you believe in God? and sometimes forming a cross with the thumb of the right hand and the forefinger, 'Crees en este? Crees en este? No! No! Ah Judio! Moro! Barbaro! Bruto! Pro­testante! Puerco! Voia al los Infernos!!' In English—Do you believe in this? Do you believe in this? No! No! Ah Jew! Moor! Barbarian! Protestant! Hog! Go to Hell!!"

So much for human beneficience and charity, under the fostering auspices of religion!

The house of Mr. —, where I was so hos­pitably lodged, was a magnificent edifice, built in all the fulness of Eastern grandeur and luxury, and furnished with all the splendour and state of Tur­key, united with the taste and opulence of Great Britain. It was indeed a house in which voluptu­ousnest itself might sit down with satisfaction—The most unaffected hospitality and generous benevo­lence [Page 198] spread the board, and politeness and affability presided over all. Never shall I forget it—never shall I think of it without gratitude and esteem.

A gentleman of the opulence and consequence of Mr. —, with a house such as I have described, and a disposition to social enjoyment, was not, you will conclude, without a resort of company and friends; in truth, he had friends even among the better sort of Turks. Parties of pleasure had no in­termission while I was there; and as the ladies of Europe or of European extraction in that country are highly accomplished, speak many languages, are indefatigable in their efforts to please, and receive strangers from Europe with a joy and satisfaction not to be described, Aleppo would have been to me an Elysium, if the pleasures of the place did not from the beginning suffer diminution from my own painful sensations, which were aggravated at last by an incident that arose from my intercourse there— of which more hereafter.

While I remained at Aleppo, I walked as I be­fore told you, frequently about the streets; and I think I never was witness to so many broils in all my life put together, as I was in my wanderings there—Not a time I went out that I did not observe one, two, three, and sometimes half a dozen or more. They have nothing terrible in them however, and, were it not extremely disgusting to see men scold, would be very entertaining; for I will venture to say that a street battle "à la Turque" is one of the most ludicrous exhibitions in the world. The par­ties approach to each other, and retreat mutually, as the action of the one gives hopes to the other of victory, lifting their hands, and flourishing them in the air, as if ready to strike every moment, grinning and gnashing their teeth, while their beard and whiskers besprent with the spume of their mouths, and wagging with the quick motion of their lips and ghastly contortions of their jaws, present the [Page 199] most ridiculous spectacle imaginable. They remind­ed me at the time of a verse in an old English bal­lad:—

Nothing, in fact, can exceed the extravagance of their gesture: the vehement loudness of their voice, or the whimsical distortions of their countenances, in which are displayed sometimes the quickest vicis­situdes of fear and fury, and sometimes the most laughable combination of both. All this time, however, not a single blow is actually struck; but they compensate for the want of bodily prowess by the exercise of the tongue, denouncing vengeance against each other, threatening instant demolition, lavishing every bitter reproach, every filthy epithet, and every horrible imprecation that they can think of, and both boasting occasionally of their patience and forbearance, which fortunately enabled them to refrain from annihilating their adversary. At last the fray gradually decays: exhausted with fatigue, and half choaked with dust and vociferation, they retreat gradually backwards to their own doors; where summing up all their malignity into a most horrid execration, they part for the time, and retire to vaunt in empty threat, and growl away their rage, in the recesses of their haram.

Yet those people are found terrible in battle by the Christian troops that have from time to time been opposed to them: here, if proof be wanting of the effects of religion on the human mind, is an incontrovertable one of its powerful operations. Under the influence of their faith, which tells them that they go to Paradise instantly if killed in battle with Infidels, they perform prodigies of va­lour fighting against Christians; while, forbidden by that faith to imbrue their hands in the blood of a true believer, their passions have been gradually brought under the dominion of their religion, till [Page 200] that which at first was faith at last becomes habit, and the appropriate energy and courage of the man has sunk into the degrading and emasculant efforts of the woman.

The practice of fighting, or personal conflicts between individuals of the same society, seems to have been condemned by the universal consent of all religions. The Gentoos, as well as all the other sects of the various parts of the East through which I have travelled, give vent to their passion in near­ly the same manner as the Turks. The Christians too are most strictly forbidden to strike one another by the great Author of their faith: but it is their good fortune, that they not only have the best reli­gion in the world for their guidance, but that they are the only people in the world who claim exemp­tion from the penalties of that religion, and think themselves wronged and their personal rights in­fringed, if they are refused the privilege of break­ing through its rules whenever those rules are at variance with their convenience.

Be it your care, my dear child, to fortify your mind with the spirit of true religion and sound morality, and let your practice in life be ever guid­ed by their precepts.

LETTER XXXIII.

THE avidity with which human crea­tures search for something to recreate the mind and keep it in exercise, is of itself a convincing proof of the natural activity of our intellectual faculties, and shews that, like the different parts of the bo­dy, they were given by Providence to be called into effort and improved by practice. As they who [Page 201] by the favours of opulence are exempted from the necessity of actual bodily labour, are obliged to have recourse to artificial labour called exercise; so they who have the misfortune to be precluded from the employment of the mind by business, are obliged to seek mental exercise in a variety of expedients, some of which are criminal, some foolish, and some good for nothing or indifferent. Cards, dice, and games of chance are (according to the extent to which they are carried) of the two former—tale and novel-reading of the two latter. Those how­ever serve to occupy the vacant hours of all the idle and unemployed. And when letters deny their friendly aid, we find among ourselves the de­ficiency supplied from the less ample resources of the memory; and story-telling, love tales, fairy tales, and goblin and ghost adventures, are recited round the villager's fire or the kitchen hearth in as great numbers, with as much ingenuity, and to as great effect, as they are to be found written in the innumerable volumes on the shelves of our cir­culating libraries.

In Turkey, where the art of printing has not yet been known, were the circulation of literary pro­ductions is chained down within the narrow compass of manuscript, and where therefore the efforts of genius are repressed by discouragement, the business of story-telling makes in itself a profession, which, as it is acquired by study and prosecuted with art, is followed with considerably profit.

One day a friend (a French gentleman) who es­corted me through the town called to draw me out with him for a walk; he said he wished to shew me some of the caravanseras, observing that he thought I should be entertained with a view of them. I agreed to go; and he brought me to two, which af­ter he had shewn to me and explained their princi­ple, police, and etiquette, I could not help admi­ring and approving. To both these were attached [Page 202] eating-houses and coffee-houses, and every appen­dage that could render them convenient and com­fortable. As we were about leaving the last I observed my friend stop and listen attentively. "Come hither," said he, after a minute's pause— "come into this coffee-house, here is something going forward that may amuse you."

We accordingly entered the coffee-house, where we saw a number of people, some seated in the Tur­kish fashion, some on low stools, and some stand­ing; and in the middle a man walking to and fro, speaking in an audible voice, sometimes slowly, sometimes with rapidity, varying his tones occasion­ally with all the inflections of a corresponding sense. I could not understand him, but he seemed to me to speak with "good emphasis and good discre­tion:" his action was easy to him, though expres­sive and emphatical; and his countenance exhibited strong marks of eloquent expression. I could not help staring with astonishment at a scene so new to me, and felt great approbation of the tones and manner of this extraordinary orator, though I could not understand a single word he said. He was list­ened to by all with great attention, and the Turks (albeit not used to the laughing mood) frequently betrayed strong symptoms of risibility: but in the height and torrent of his speech he broke suddenly off, scampered out of the door and disappeard. I set it down that he was a maniac or lunatic of an inge­nious kind, and was for going away. "Stay," says my friend, "rest where you are for a few minutes, let us hear further."

The orator had scarcely been gone three minutes when the room was filled with the buzz of conver­sation, a word of which I could not understand, but which my guide listened to very attentively. At length the buzz began to grow loud, and soon increased into clamour; when a scene ensued of so very ludricious a kind as forced me to cram my [Page 203] handkerchief into my mouth to suppress a laugh, or at least so to stifle it as to avoid observation. In short, they were disputing violently, and the beards were, as I once before mentioned to you, ALL WAGGING. I became more convulsed with mirth; and my friend seeing that I was likely to give of­fence, took me under the arm and hurried me out of the coffee-house: we retired into a porch in the caravansera, where I gave vent to my suppressed laughter till my sides were sore and my eyes ran tears.

"In the name of God, my friend!" said I, "tell me what is the meaning of all that extravagant scene to which we have just now been witness: who is that madman that spoke so much? and why did they all quarrel after he went away?"

"Come, come," said he, "let us retire to my house, and I will there explain the whole of it to you, from begining to ending."

I accordingly accompanied him home, where we found a very gay circle assembled, to whom he de­scribed my astonishment; recounting my immode­rate laughter, till they all laughed very nearly as im­moderately as myself. "You must know," said he, addressing himself to me, "that he whom you took to be a madman, is one of the most cele­brated composers and tellers of stories in Asia, and only wants the aid of printing to be perhaps as emi­nent in reputation for making CONTES, as Mar­montel or Madame D'Anois. As we passed along I heard his voice, and, knowing it, resolved to let you see him, and brought you in for the purpose. He was entertaining the company with a very curi­ous, interesting, and comical story; the subject of which was ava [...]ce: the hero a miser of the name of Cassem. His misery and avarice are represented in it as bringing him into a variety of scrapes, which waste his wealth; and his character is drawn with such strength of colouring, and marked with such [Page 204] grotesque lines of humour—he related it moreover with so much wit, in such admirable language, and embellished and enforced it with such appropriate action, utterance, and emphasis—that it rivited, as you saw, the attention of all his auditors, and ex­torted laughter even from Turkish gravity,"

"But how came he to break off so suddenly?" said I.

"That," returned my friend, "is a part of the art of his profession, without which he could not live; just as he gets to a most interesting part of the story, when he has wound the imagination of his auditors up to the highest climax of expectation, he purposely breaks off to make them eager for the rest. He is sure to have them all next day, with additional numbers who come on their report, and he makes his terms to finish the story."

"Why then," interrupted I, "why did they▪ who remained behind fall disputing?"

"That I will explain to you," said he. Just as he broke off, Cassem the miser (who, as far as I heard, seems as well drawn as Moliere's AVARE) having already suffered a thousand whimsical mis­fortunes and dilapidations of fortune, is brought be­fore the cadi for digging in his garden, on the pre­sumption that he was digging for treasure. As soon as the historian was gone, they first applauded him, and then began to discuss his story—which they one and all agreed in praising highly and when they came to talk of the probable issue of the sequel of it, there were almost as many opinions as there were men in company; each maintained his own, and they went to loggerheads as you law about it— when the chance is a thousand to one, that not one of them was near the mark. One in particular [...]ur­miled that Cassem would be married to the cadi's daughter; which gave great offence to some, and rou [...]ed another of the company to declare, that he was well assured in his conscience that Cassem [Page 205] would be brought to the bastinado or the stake, or else hanged, in the sequel."

"And is it possible," said I, "that a group of twenty or thirty rational beings can be so far bereft of all common sense, as to dispute upon the result of a contigency, which absolutely depends on the arbitrary fancy of an acknowledged fabricator of falsehoods?"

" C'est vrai, Monsieur? and thereby they de­monstrate the power of the poet (for poet we may call him); and entre nous, I doubt whether it is not more rational, as well as more fair, to dispute what the denouement ought to be before than after the in­ventor of the piece has disposed of it, as is the practice with us. When he has once finished his fable, you will find them all content, and the voice of criticism silent. Now in France or England, our critics lie perdue, in order to attack the poet, let him finish his performance how he may. But you will recollect, Monsieur, that in Turkey criti­cism is the honest spontaneous issue of the heart, and with us is a trade, where sometimes lucre, some­times vanity, but oftener than both, envy and ma­lice direct the decision, and dispose to cavil and censure.

"But we will go again to-morrow," continued he, "probably he will be there to conclude or pro­ceed further with his story;" I agreed to this and we parted.

On the next day we went, and not seeing the o [...] in his place, lounged about the caravansera, and going to another coffee-house found him de­ [...]g [...]h all his might. My friend told me that the story h [...] was now on was quite different from the former: however we watched his motions so effectually that we got the conclusion of the story of Cassem, which completely disappointed the prognos [...] of the two conflicting Turkish critics; for Cassem was neither ba [...]adoed, staked, [Page 206] or hanged, nor married to the cadi's daughter, but lived to see that extreme avarice was folly; and to be sensible that to make the proper use of the goods of this life is to enjoy them.

LETTER XXXIV.

MY last letter has shewn you, that the conceptions of genius, though they may want the aid of the press to bring them in full and perfect disclosure to the world, will yet burst through their bounds, and find some means of communication with mankind; for though the art of printing be unknown in Turkey, the emanations of superior intellect and fancy find their way to the general ear through the medium of public declamation in cof­fee-houses. This letter will serve to shew you that malversation in office, public delinquency, and all those crimes of the great, which with us are cog­nizable by no tribunal but that of the public press, are not altogether so exempt from the last and ex­posure of the satirist in Turkey, as the want of that great palladium of freedom would dispose us to believe; and that, incredible as it may appear, the magistrates are held up to ridicule in public exhibition, satirised with all the extravagant vul­garity of coarse humour and unpolished wit, and exposed with all the bitter exaggerations of enven­omed genius.

The French gentleman whom I mentined to you in my last, as having procured me that pleasant repast at the coffee-house, called on me a morning or two after that, and reminded me how highly I seemed to be entertained: said, there were often to be seen, by walking about and going into public [Page 207] places, a variety of things, which however worth­less and unentertaining in themselves, might, from the novelty of their appearance, and their unlike­liness to any thing seen in Europe, serve either to divert by their oddity, or promote the conception of new ideas in the mind: he therefore recom­mended it to me, with all the zeal of a person who took an interest in my happiness, to keep on my legs and in the streets while I remained at Aleppo.

You will conclude that I readily complied, and we sallied ou [...] directly in quest of adventure. We proceeded, therefore, to one of the before menti­oned coffee-houses, where, as my friend observed to me, though there were no people of great rank, there was generally something to afford contempla­tion or amusement; and where, if nothing else occurred, the motley appearance of the company was sufficient to excite a variety of whimsical emo­tions, and suggest numberless ludicrous images to the imagination of an English or French man. As there was no orator at work declaiming, I had time to indulge myself with a more accurate view than I had before taken of the group that surround­ed us: and surely never was ponderous gravity more ludicrously, or in more various forms depicted by any caricaturist in the world.—Here it was to be seen, in all its shadings, from the self-important nod of serious cogitation, down to the soporific aspect of stolid stupidity. Not a muscle was mo­ved in way of mirth, not a face disgraced with a smile, and I could not help thinking all the time, that if every nation of the earth was to take some animal for its insignia, as the British assume the lion, and the Prussian the eagle, the Turks might be divided in their choice between the appropriate claims of the owl and the ass.

Soon after we entered, a band of what they called music, struck up a concert. And here again the notion of the owl and the ass struck me with [Page 208] increased force, as peculiarly presiding over their music: for no other combination of sounds that I know on earth, but the screeching of the one, and the braying of the other, could form any thing to resemble this concert, with which the auditory seemed vastly pleased, though I was obliged to be­take myself to slight, in order to get relief from the torture it give me. The Turks, however, as I retreated, honoured me with a few remarks, which as I did not understand, I could not pre­cisely feel▪ my friend however told me, they were to the effect that we were Frangi Dumus (Frank H [...]g)▪ and had no more ear than that filthy ani­mal for music.

Come, said my friend, don't be discouraged!— But the music—the music! interrupted I.—Well then, [...]id [...], the music, or rather the sounds were execrable to be sure; they have at least served to establish this certainty, that there is nothing, how­ever discordant or d [...]stable, which habit will not reconcile us to. Doubt not, said he, that the best piece of H [...]ndel or Correll [...], performed by the best band in Rome, would appea [...] as ridiculous to them, as their concert did to us.

We vi [...]ted many coffee-houses in the course of that day, in every one of which we found some­thing to divert or disgust us; at length as we en­tered one, my friendly guide turning to me with satisfaction in his countenance, said "Here is something about to go forward that will please you better than the concert of music." What is it said I? A drama, returned he; a drama, to you most certainly of a new and extraordinary kind; and I do assure you that so zealous am I to procure you entertainment, I would rather than a couple of lou [...]s' you could understand what is going for­ward: your hearty mirth and laughter, added he, are sufficient to put one in spirits. He then di­rected my attention to a fellow who was busily em­ployed [Page 209] in erecting a stage, which he accomplished in a time incredibly short. The light of the sun was completely excluded, and a puppet shew com­menced, which gave great delight to all the audi­ence, and ignorant as I was of the language, plea­sed me very much.

I was astonished when informed that one man only spoke for all the personages of the drama, for so artfully did he change his tone of voice, that I could have sworn there had been as many people to speak, as there were characters in the piece. The images were not actually puppets, commonly so called, but shadows done in the manner of Ast­ley's Ombres Chinoises. They were, however, far inferior to his in execution and management, though the dialogue and incident evidently appear­ed even to me, to be executed with a degree of the vis comica far superior to any I ever saw in a thing of the kind in Europe; indeed so perfect was the whole, that though I knew not a word of the lan­guage, I comprehended clearly the plan of the piece, and many of the strokes of humour con­tained in the dialogues.—The plan was obviously taken from a story which I have read in some of the Eastern tales, I believe the Arabian Nights Enter­tainments, and it is founded on the law of the country, that a man may repudiate his wife twice, and take her back again; but in the event of a third divorce, cannot retake her to his marriage-bed, unless she be previously married and divorced by another man. To obviate which, husbands who repent having divorced their wives a third time, employ a man to marry them, and restore her back again; and he who does this office is called a Hullah.—In the piece before us, however, the Lady and the Hullah like each other so well, that they agree not to separate; the husband brings them both before the cadi to enforce a separation; and the scene before the cadi was as ludic [...]ous, and [Page 210] as keen a satire upon those magistrates as can well be conceived, though of the low kind.

The piece was introduced with a grand nuptial procession, in which the master displayed the pow­ers of his voice by uttering a variety of the most opposite tones in the whole gamut of the human voice; sometimes speaking, sometimes squeaking like a hurt child, sometimes hazz [...]ing as a man, a woman, or a child; sometimes neighing like a horse, and sometimes interspersing it with other such sounds as commonly occur in crowds, in such a manner as astonished me: while the concomitant action of the images, grotesque beyond measure, kept up the laugh; horses kicking and throwing their riders, asses biting those near them, and kick­ing those behind them, who retire limping in the most ridiculous manner; while their great standing character in all pieces, KARA-GHUSE (the same as our Punch), raised a general roar of obstreperous mirth even from the Turks, with his whimsical action, of which I must say that, though nonsesi­cal, though indecent, and sometimes even disgust­ing, it was on the whole the most finished com­position of low ribaldry and fun that I ever be­held.

When they come before the cadi, he is seated in his divan of justice; but as soon as the complaint is opened and answered, he rises and comes for­ward between the contending parties: here he turns to one and demands in a terrific tone what he has to say, while the other puts cash in his hand behind, and in proportion as the cash is counted in, increases the terror of his voice; he then pockets the money, and again turns to the other, and de­mands what he has to offer, while in like manner he receives the bribes from his adversary and puts it in an opposite pocket: this alternate application lasts till the purses of both are exhausted, when, giving a great groan, he retires on one side to reck­on [Page 211] the money of each from a pocket he has on either side, one called plaintiff, and the other de­fendant; when balancing them, he finds plaintiff better by one asper (or three-halfpence) than de­fendant, and pronounces his judgment accordingly. The defendant appeals to the bashaw; they go be­fore him: KARA-GHUSE (Punch) however, takes the defendant aside, and in a dialogue, which my friend assured me was pointed, witty, and bitterly satirical, developes to him the whole system of ma­gistratical injustice, advises him to bribe the bashaw, and declaring his zeal for all young people fond of amorous enjoyment (which he is at some pains to enlarge upon to the excess of indelicacy), offers him the aid of his purse. The advice is followed; the bribe is accepted; the cadi's decree is reversed, and himself disgraced, and the mob at once hustle him and bear the Hullah home to his bride with clamours of joy. Here again the master shewed his extraordinary powers, giving not only, as before, distinct and opposite tones of voice, but huddling a number of different sounds with such skill and ra­pidity together, that it was scarcely possible to resist the persuasion that they were the issue of a large and tumultuous crowd of men and animals. With this extravagant melange the curtain dropped, and the performance ended.

Returning home we conversed together on the subjest of the piece, which I confess I could not get out of my head for some time. My friend explain­ed to me, as well as he could recollect, a great part of the dialogue, and assured me, that the freedom of speech of Monsieur KARA-GHUSE had from time to time created a great deal of uneasiness, not only to private offending individuals, but to the magistracy itself—that no offender, however intrenched behind power, or enshrined in rank, could escape him—that bashaws, cadis, nay the Ja [...]ssaries themselves, were often made the sport of his fury; that he was not [Page 212] more restrained in the effusions of obscenity which he utered, than in his satire; that he was always well received and applauded, even venerated (as we venerate the liberty of the press) as a bold teller of truth, who with little mischief does a great deal of good, and often rouses the lethargic public mind to a sense of public dangers and injuries. He added, that in some cases the magistrate had been obliged to interfere; and the bashaw himself was seriously called upon at times to stop the licentious tongue of this champion of Freedom, KARA-GHUSE.

"Well then," said I, "it appears upon the whole that Monsieur KARA-GHUSE is a very great black-guard, but a very witty, and a very honest one."

"You have just hit it," said he; "and if Master Kara-ghuse was to take such liberties in France, Spain, Portugal, or Germany, all his wit and honesty would not save him from punishment. In England you do not want him; every man there is a KARA-GHUSE, and every newspaper a puppet-shew."

"And yet," returned I, "we complain sadly of want of liberty!"

"That is natural," returned my sagacious French­man, "perfectly natural. Liberty is like money; the more we have of it, the more covetous we grow."

"Very true, Monsieur," said I, pleased with his compliment to our happy constitution, and to clinch his observation, gave a Latin quotation, which when a child I got out of Lilly's Grammar, "Crescit amor nummi, quantum ipsa pecunia crescit;" and then changging nummus for libertas, "Crescit amor li­bertatis, quantum ipsa libertas crescit."

"'Tis very well, Monsieur," said he; and to carry on your allusion, may we not say, that they who do not know when they have enough, are as dangerously wrong in the one case, as those who say we have too much, are in the other? The En­glish complaining of the want of liberty, reminds me of the coffee-house orator's story of Cassem, who, [Page 213] wallowing in wealth, lost it all in the wild pursuit of more.—I hope however that they never will, like him, lose their stock in vain endeavours to in­crease it."

LETTER XXXV.

WHILE I was, in the manner I have already mentioned, endeavouring to pass away the time as cheerfully as possible, till a caravan was for­med, or Company's dispatches were coming over land, of which I might avail myself; I found my situation in the house of Mr. — growing ex­tremely critical. That gentleman, of whose good sense, and truly excellent disposition, I had too manifold proofs to call them in question, had, though fallen into the vale of years, married his la­dy at a very tender age. She was then young, beautiful, full of sensibility, and gifted with such natural endowments both of mind and person, ac­companied with all those accomplishments which helped to dress them to advantage, that she might well be acquitted of vanity, even though fancy suggested to her she was fit to grace and confer hap­piness on a younger bed; while reflection on the obvious disparity of the match (which the cool tem­per of satiety possibly suggested to him) might per­haps have alarmed his mind to circumstances of probable danger, that, before wedlock, were all hid behind the deceptive veil of passion. Whe­ther these were the private sentiments that influen­ced both or either of them, I cannot presume to determine, though I think it probable: for I was not long in the house till I plainly perceived they were on a very bad footing with each other, and [Page 214] in short that disagreement was become habitual to them. At first, that is to say, for a few days after my becoming an inmate of their house, decency en­forced concealment, and the ebullitions of peevish­ness were stifled by the dictates of prudence; but the animosities of the connubial state are those which of all others are the most impatient under control; and as time, by producing familiarity, relaxed rest­raint, the pent-up passions began to force their way, and open bickering took place in my presence.

It is but barely doing justice to myself to say, that I felt the most poignant concern at seeing a couple, each so perfectly amiable in all other respects blast­ing the hours that should be given to harmony and love, in jarring reproach, and recrimination; and I would have given all I was worth that I had ne­ver had occasion to esteem them so much, or that I could give them that peace which seemed to have [...]lown them for ever. Fain would I cast a veil over the whole transaction fain would I bury it even from myself, in oblivion: but it has been made by my enemies the subject of triumphant slan­der; and to do justice to myself, and disclaim the extent of guilt which they would impute to me, I am reluctantly obliged to avow the share I had, and declare how the matter really stood. I must speak the truth, and hope you will not conceive that I designedly lean too heavily upon any one, to ease myself of my share of the load.

Whatever domestic uneasiness may subsist be­tween a married pair, the man, if prudent, will endeavour to conceal it; and the woman, if truly virtuous, will take care to do so: should great dis­parity of age (as in the present instance) be the case, the lady is more particularly bound to conceal any uneasiness, lest it should be attributed to that cause which people are in such cases too prone to suspect, dislike to her husband; and before young men, above all, she should be most exemplary, as [Page 215] she must well know that their natural vanity, com­bined with the leading idea of her aversion and infidelity to her husband, suggest ideas to them from whence their warm imaginations draw infer­ences of a nature too pleasing to be parted with, and too probable not to be put in practice, or at least attempted. Here then a woman at once lays herself fairly open to the assaults of illicit love. I think it will not be denied, that the woman who promulgates the disagreements between her and her husband, particularly if she suffers a young man to be privy to it, is either extremely ignorant, or in­tentionally vicious, or both.

That the lady I allude to may in some respect be acquitted of this imputation, I must tell you, that she was only eighteen years of age; her tender, in­experienced mind had not yet arrived to that matu­rity which gives sound judgment; and though of good natural talents, highly cultivated (for she spoke fluently English, French, Italian, Arabic, Persian, and the Greek and Turkish languages), she yet was simple▪ innocent, uninformed in the ways of the world, and incapable of reasoning from causes up to consequences. But unfortunately that simplicity is attended with as much mischief, though not guilt, as the wilful misconduct of the more expe­rienced; it has the same baleful effects with the hearers, inspires the same confidence, emboldens with the same hopes, and leads to the same perni­cious practices.

I have already mentioned, and will now remind you, that I was then young. Perhaps it was owing to a congeniality pointed out by our age, perhaps to a compassionate politeness amounting to tender­ness, which I always disclosed on those unhappy occasions, joined perhaps to the ardent look of youth kindled by the imaginations to which this imprudent conduct insensibly gave birth, that the lady thought proper to take the very hazardous step [Page 216] of making a confidant of a young man and a soldier —and revealing to me the whole tale of her griev­ances, with a pathetic eloquence, that would have made an impression upon a much less susceptible heart than mine. I declare it most solemely, that though this extraordinary mark of confidence and esteem communicated to my heart strong sensations of unjustifiable pleasure: I so far got the better of myself at first, as to receive the whole with the same appearance of tranquility, as if I had been only a confidential female friend. I pitied, it is true;—I expressed my pity:—I advised, not trea­cherously but faithfully;—I said such things as occured to me to be most likely to assuage and ex­tinguish the flame of discord, and lead to an amica­ble adjustment; and I parted for that time with her to go to a self-approving pillow, where, while my fancy was inflamed and tickled by the flattering mark of regard shewn me by so all-accomplished a person. I had the soothing delightful consciousness of having, as far as I was able, done my duty, and escaped the corroding reflection of having violated the rights of hospitality.

Not an opportunity however afterwards offered, that the same unhappy point was not the subject of discussion, and unfortunately those opportunities but too frequenlly occurred; till at length we began to feel that they were the sweetest minutes of our lives, and were [...]ought for with industrious avidity by both of us. No human resolution was sufficient to withstand such an unlucky concurrence of cir­cumstances: from lamenting the grievances, we wished to remove them; from wishing, we pro­ceeded to consider the means: and when we had got that length, the fl [...]ght was not far to the ex­t [...]s and—the execution of it. My passions hur­ried me before them, my expressions grew gradu­ally more and more ung [...] ▪ our conversation became more interesting and warm; and though I [Page 217] felt and struggled to be guided by the strict princi­ples of honour, and formed a thousand resolutions not to transgress the laws of hospitality, by injuring the man who had treated me with such kindness, the struggle became too severve for me—the desire of pleasing a lovely woman, who had reposed such unbounded confidence in me, and who seemed to expect and require of me to alleviate her misery, at length bore down all the oppositions suggested by reason and principle, and I agreed to become the instrument of her removal from this unhappy situa­tion. We fell—but not intirely. There is one length to which no earthly consideration—no al­lurement however dazzling could tempt me—it is now the most cordial consolation to my mind; I never suffered myself to think of trespassing on the decorum of his house, nor did we in any single in­stance carry our intercourse to a direct violation of his bed. Though the transports of youthful pas­sion hurried us into conversations and reflections on the subject of her determination to be separated from her husband, yet that passion was of too deli­cate a kind to sink into the brutal sordid indulgence of dishonourable stolen embraces. She wished for that separation, rather as a subterfuge from incessant diurnal misery, than as a prelude to any vicious or illicit enjoyment; and we looked with pleasure to the event, but we looked no further.

It is thus that, in the down-hill path of vice, we are hurried on step by step, fondly imagining that each successive object, which bounds our sight, will stop our headlong career; while alas! every step we advance gives additional rapidity to our de­scent: like the centripetal force of a projectile, our pace increases with uniformly accelerated motion— till disdaining all control, and breaking down every impediment that reason, morality, or honour throw in the way to rescue us or retard our ruin, we pre­cipitate [Page 218] unexpectedly into the last gulph of vice and infamy.

Fortunately, however, an incident intervened in the present case, which arrested our progress down this hideous descent, and reserved us both I hope to conviction of our folly, and repentance of our error. And I have the consolation to reflect, that out of such a host of dangers and temptations as I was beset with, I have escaped without the actual perpetration of a deed, which would, had it hap­pened, in all probability have embittered my life.

While we hugged ourselves in the security and secrecy of expressing our genuine sentiments, her husband discovered our wishes, and all at once took the necessary measures for preventing them. So that, overwhelmed with grief and shame, I directly formed the resolution to leave Aleppo, and proceed in the best manner I could on my desti­nation.

Thus you see, my dear FREDERICK, was your father, by failing to resist the first impressions of an unlawful and dishonourable passion, insensibly led to the very brink of a precipice, the bare remem­brance of which now makes him shudder with hor­ror. The story, by means unnecessary for me to mention, took wind. The folly of some, the ma­lice of others, and the unaccountable propensity to falsehood of more, trumpeted it about with many exaggerations to my injury, and I was held up as the deliberate seducer of innocence: but the whole transaction is exactly as I have stated it; and the disagreements previous to my arrival at Aleppo, which, in telling the story, they purposely left out, were of such public notoriety, that every European, even the consul himself, was fully acquainted with them. This is the consequence of a deviation from the strict rule of right. Treasure it up in your mind, my child, never to be forgotten; and let it operate as a caution to you, how you entangle [Page 219] yourself in the snares of women: recollect that my escape was singularly fortunate, and the mere effect of accident; and flatter not yourself, that because accident served in one case it will in ano­ther. Providence has, for the wisest of purposes, implanted in our nature a fondness for the fair sex; and so long as it is used prudently and virtuously, it constitutes the first happiness of life; but if on the contrary, it stimulates us to excess, impels to injure our fellow creature, or break in upon the repose of a family; it is our reproach, our shame, our curse, and very frequently our utter and irre­mediable ruin; add to this, that there is in the general character of women, a capriciousness, a levity, and a vanity, under the influence of which they sport with men, only to display their power, and evince the force of their charms, which makes the cultivation of their good graces in any way hazardous. To adopt the idea of an old epigram— "There is no living with them, nor without them."

As your happiness, my dear boy, is the first ob­ject of my life, my efforts shall be turned to the guiding of your greener years from any premature impressions; and when reason and matured age fit you for the cultivation and enjoyment of female society, be it mine to direct your steps away from that class, who think rank a sufficient sanction for vice, who fl [...]re in all the bronze of aristocratic assurance, under a load of obloquy, beneath which the poorest peasant's wife would sink; who think that wealth and rank confer a right to commit ex­cesses that would degrade the meanest of the ca­naille; and felicitate themselves with the reflection, that, under the protection of family or an infamous husband, they may indulge in enormities, for which the lowest of their sex are beating hemp in Bridewell.

LETTER XXXVI.

THE discovery to which I alluded in my last letter, surprised and grieved me very much [...] and indeed it astonished me the more, from the manner in which it was communicated.

One day I received a polite message from the British consul, saying, he wished to speak to me as soon as possible, upon a business of great conse­quence. I thought at first, that it might be some plan for my proceeding on my journey—perhaps Company's dispatches that had arrived to go over land; and at intervals, something like apprehensi­ons of the true motive of his sending for me flew across my mind. I however went to him, when, after some little introductory conversation, he told me, that my host Mr. — had been with him that morning, laying before him a complaint of a most extraordinary and serious nature, of which, as it immediately concerned me, he thought him­self bound to inform me, in order that I might either contradict so gross a calumny if it were un­true, or find means to avoid the obviously necessa­ry result if founded in fact.

He then proceeded to relate to me, that Mr. — had informed him of a conspiracy having been meditated against his peace and honour, be­tween his wife and the English gentleman whom he had entertained in his house; that their plan was nothing less than an elopement, and that he did not know how soon it might be carried into execution, if not timely prevented; and finally, that he had demanded the assistance of the consul and his interest with the Turkish magistrate to pre­vent [Page 221] it, by granting him an armed force for the protection of his house.

I was much surprised to find that conversations so very guarded as ours were discovered, and more so that the aggrieved person did not think proper to speak to myself, and charge me in person with the offence; never reflecting the while, that all my ideas were military, and his merely commercial: I was also much at a loss to conjecture how he came to make the discovery—but this I found afterwards he owed to a female servant, who had been im­providently intrusted by her mistress with the secret.

Finding, however, that by whatever means he became acquainted with the affair, it was a certain fact that he was apprised of it, I directly acknow­ledged the whole truth with the utmost candour to the consul; told him the affair step by step as it arose, assuring him (which I really thought to be the case) that pity for the lady's deplorable situa­tion made me listen to such a measure; and that unlawful passion had so little to do with it, that in all our private conferences we had never trans­gressed the limits of purity; and that her person was, at least respecting me, and I firmly believed all mankind, spotless and inviolate. I added, that great allowances were to be made for a young crea­ture barely eighteen years of age, consigned by the wickedness of avaricious parents to the embraces of a man of sixty-five; who, amiable and worthy though he was, in social intercourse with the world (which I knew him to be), was yet in the most indispensable point of connubial felicity so utterly defective, as necessarily to create disgust and abhorrence in a youthful mind. I remarked to him, that, in the forming of laws, it as plainly appeared on their face, who made them amongst the English, as it does on the face of the Gentoo laws, that they were made by the Bramins: for, [Page 222] as by the latter the penalty of a few puns ^* of cou­ries (not value a shilling) is annexed to the perpe­tration of a crime, for which those of another class loose their lives; so, among us, it appears that our laws are made by the aged, the decrepid, the sensual, and the rich. Else it could never hap­pen that there were in the same code, laws to pun­ish marriage between the young and vigorous, and enable the brutality of a parent to take its full scope, and consign, as in the present instance, youth, beauty, health, and every personal attraction, to the arms of age, infirmity, and impotence. And I concluded by saying, that all parties aiding in such an unnatural confederacy should be punished.

The consul fairly acknowledged there was too much truth in what I had said; but remarked withal, that it was rather a hazardous experiment, and he was sure it would be an endless one, to correct all the abuses to which the fallibility of man, and his incompetency to form any thing per­fect, necessarily left society and their laws liable— that the law was written, and it was the duty of every individual to obey it—and that in cases of adultery, the offence could be justified on no solid grounds whatever, for, independent of the feel­ings of the husband, which perhaps were more poignant in old age than youth, the injury to his family was not to be got over, in probably giving to him an heir no way a-kin to him. "It would be right, I think," said he, "to stop such dispro­portionate matches; yet, once made, they should be as religiously observed inviolate as those of love, among which we almost as frequently, as in those of compulsion, see instances of infidelity. If you doubt this," said he, "read the records of Doctors' Commons."

[Page 223]I agreed to the justice of what he said, at the same time assured him, that my intentions went no farther than wishing the lady to be rescued from her thraldom, which I told him was dreadful.— "I am sure," said the consul, "that Mr. Camp­bell thinks so, because I am convinced he would not otherwise say so. But may not," said he, smi­ling, "may not Mr. C. have deceived himself? these are things in which the passions are strangely apt to hoodwink the understanding. However," continued he, breaking off pleasantly, "I must give you all the comfort that truth will allow me to do: I am sure that the poor lady is condemned to great wretchedness; partly from my own obser­vation, partly from public report, and partly from her own mouth: for you must know she has seve­ral times complained to me of her husband's pee­vishness and tyranny; and even besought me to use my influence and authority to relieve her from her misery. Mr. —," continued he, "is a man whom on all other accounts I esteem, and va­l [...]e highly. In this instance he has erred, and I cannot pity him, even though he suffers all the torments of jealousy▪ and as there are laws for punishing with death premature intercourse with the sex, I cannot see, any more than you, why the sacrificing youth to extreme old age should not be equally punished, for I am sure it is equally unna­tural, and still more injurious to a state. These are my sentiments," continued he; "but let not this declaration induce you to think that I the less dis­approve of your intermeddling. You have allowed me the privilege of a friend, and I will not suffer it to be made an empty one. You were more cul­pable than many young men would be; first, be­cause you are married, and should, upon the com­mon principle of doing as you would be done by, have refrained; and next, because you were en­joying the sweets of hospitality in his house, and [Page 224] should have dashed from his lips, rather than held to them, the deepest cup of bitterness."

"But, my dear sir," said I, "I do not attempt to justify—I only endeavour to mitigate the matter, and you will recollect that the very circumstance which in one point of view aggravates, in another alleviates the fault: the living in his house afforded those interviews and exposed me to those tempta­tions under which I was near sinking—I should never have sought them: but he must be more or less than man, that could have resisted them: and though I have a high sense of Mr. Consul's strict honour and virtue, as well as prudence, he must excuse me, though I doubt whether he could him­self have resisted so long and so effectually as I did. I am sure there are many who will censure, that could not."

The consul smiled, and, turning the discourse from its direct line, observed, that it was absolutely necessary I should desist, else he would be obliged to use his influence and power to protect Mr. —.

In answer to this, I gave him my honour in the first place, that I would proceed no farther in the business; and that, on the contrary, I was deter­mined to set out upon my journey to India directly, if means could be contrived for my conveyance; adding, that I should consider it as a great favour, in addition to those I had already received at his hands, if he would contrive some means to set me forward in my route.

To this he answered, that as the making up of a caravan would be extravagantly expensive, he knew no means that were not attended with certain hard­ship and eventual danger; but finding me deter­mined at almost any danger or hazard to set off, he proposed to send for a man who knew every re­source in that way, and when he came would talk farther on the business; and in the mean time, re­commended great circumspection to me while I [Page 225] continued at Mr. —'s house, to which I very solemnly pledged my word.

Being now constrained by every consideration, as well of prudence and decency as of inclination, to leave Aleppo immediately; I determined that no common impediments should stop me, and waited with impatience the arrival of the person on whom the consul rested his hopes of dispatching me.

He came in the evening, and after a conference with the consul he introduced him to me, and ac­quainted me that he was a Tartar, and one of the vast number of that description who are employed by the Turkish state in carrying dispatches from court to the various viceroys and bashaws, and in­terchangeably between them again; that they were men on whose fidelity the utmost reliance could be had; and that this man, who had an excellent cha­racter, had agreed to take me to Bagdad, provided I would submit to the disguise of a Tartar.

The agreement between us I entirely submitted to the discretion of the consul, who had the good­ness to settle it thus:—The Tartar was to deliver me safe at Bagdad; to supply me and my servant, who acted as interpreter, with an ample sufficiency of provisions and horses on the road; to exchange my horse for me as often as I pleased, and to go at such a rate, whether faster or slower, as I thought proper: for this he was to receive one hundred pounds; and I further promised, as an encourage­ment to him, that if he acted to my satisfaction, I would, on our arrival at Bagdad, add a douceur of twenty pounds.

The next day he came, and I had a distinct view of this my new fellow traveller and supposed mast­er, for in several places, I was to pass for his slave. He was one of those striking character figures that a painter would like to take a sketch of—and me-thought Tartar was written legibly in every line­ament of his countenance and person.—He was [Page 226] tall, muscular, and bony—his figure bespoke great hardihood, strength, and activity—nor could the trowsers which he wore conceal the Herculean tex­ture of his limbs—his shoulders were expanded to an enormous breadth—he was unincumbered with flesh, or indeed rather extremely lean—his fore­head, though partly concealed beneath his turban, was very high—his nose large, hooked, sharp, and prominent—a pair of small, fierce, black, penetrating eyes, barely separated by the nose, and a formidable pair of mustachios, which he carefully sleeked with pomatum into a point resembling an awlblade, and which moved like the whiskers of a purring cat, with every word he spoke, gave a whimsical fero­city to the countenance, beyond the reach of de­scription, and rendered him altogether as discourag­ing a confidental friend, as ever a Christian trust­ed his life to since Mahomet first set up the trade of a prophet. He surveyed me with great atten­tion —opened his mouth two or three times like a gasping pike, as if to speak—stroaked his whiskers as often—and at last pronounced that he would un­dertake to conduct me; adding, in allusion to my black hair and dark complexion, that I looked more like a native, than any Frank he had ever seen. He ordered me to cut my hair quite short, to pro­vide myself with the Tartar dress and cap, in the fashion of his own; and saying he would call on me in proper time, departed.

Thus equipped, we set out, not without great pain and regret on my part; pain at leaving a most beau­tiful young woman, whom I pitied and esteemed, subject to the resentment of a husband, at once jea­lous from nature, peevish from habit, and enraged from her open and unequivocal demonstrations of hatred and regret at having been betrayed by situa­ation into such a very serious dilemma.

After my departure from Aleppo, this affair was represented in a variety of unfavourable lights to [Page 227] the different new comers from England; and as a story is that commodity which of all others honest people do not love to steal any thing from, in its passage though their hands, it found its way in various forms (none of them however tending to so [...]en i [...]) [...]o many of my friends and connections, those from whom of all others I wished to conceal it. Labouring under such calumnies, it cannot be considered as a violation of decorum, or unnecessa­ry infraction upon delicacy, if I state the truth, in order, though I cannot acquit myself of cen­surable conduct, at least not silently to submit to unlimited calumny, and charges of crimes which I hope I have too much honour and integrity to commit.

I must add, that previous to my departure the consul did every thing that it was possible for him to do, conducive to my safety and accomodation on the road, which as we were obliged to go to the city of Diarbeker, a great length out of our way, he observed would be long, dreary, fatiguing, and hazardous; he procured me from others, and gave me himself, a number of letters, and at par­ting defited me to comfort myself with the reflect­ion, that when I arrived at my journey's end, I should have to boast, that I went to India by a route never travelled by an European before.

LETTER XXXVII.

AS I became familiarised to my Tartar guide I found his character disclose much better traits than his first appearance bespoke, and I began insensibility to think him a very entertaining fel­low: preceiving that I was very low spirited [Page 228] and thoughtful, he exhibited manifest marks of compassion; and taking it into his head that I was actually removed for ever from my friends and my family, he spoke in a style of regret and feeling, that did great honor to his heart: and to say the truth, he did every thing in his power to alleviate my feelings, conversing with me either by means of the inter­preter, or in broken lingua franca; supplying all my wants cheerfully and abundantly; changing horses with me as often as I peased, and going slow or golloping forward just as best suited my inclination or humour.

The first object he seemed to have in view on our journey, was to impress me with a notion of his consequence and authority, as a messenger belong­ing to the Sultan. As all those men are employed by the first magistrates in the country, and are, as it were, the links of communication between them, they think themselves of great importance in the state; while the great men whose business they are employed in, make them feel the weight of author­ity, and treat them with the greatest contempt: hence they become habitually servile to their superi­ors, and by natural consequence insolent and over-bearing to their inferiors, or those who being in their power they conceive to be so. As carriers of dispaches, their power and authority wherever they go is in some points undisputed; and they can com­pel a supply of provisions, horses, and attendants, wherever it suits their occasions; nor dare any man resist their right to take the horse from under him to proceed on the Emperor's business, be the owner's occasion ever so pressing.

My feelings, which I can tell you were altoge­ther of the most unpleasant kind, served as a stimu­lus to my mind, and increased my anxiety to get forward; I therefore pushed on as fast as the horses, which were in general excellent, could carry me: and as we halted at a number of stages to get fresh [Page 229] horses and provisions, my Tartar guide had frequent opportunities of indulging his self-importance, and displaying his great authority and power. As soon as he stopped at a caravansera, he immediately cal­led lustily about him in the name of the Sultan, demanding with an imperious and menacing tone of voice, fresh horses, victuals, &c. on the instant. The terror of this great man operated like magic; nothing could exceed the activity of the men, the briskness of the women, and the terror of the chil­dren; for the caravanseras are continually attended by numbers of the very lowest classes of the people; but no quickness of preparation, no effort or in­dustry could satisfy my gentleman; he would shew me his power in a still more striking point of view, and fall belabouring them with his whip, and kick­ing them with all his might. I must confess I was much hurt at this extravagant abuse of upstart pow­er, and was two or three times on the point of in­terfering; but fortunately, recollected that it would neither be in character, nor have any good effect, and that if I presumed to speak, my guide would be obliged in my defence to give me a flogging in order to prevent suspicion.

This inconsiderate tyranny and cruelty, I had afterwards reason to believe, was by no means a part of his natural disposition; but vanity, to which so many among us in Europe fall victims, urged him to excesses, which I dare say his heart private­ly condemned.

It was on the fifth or sixth day (I cannot pre­cisely say which) after our leaving Aleppo, that we got to the city of Diarbeker, the capital of the province of that name, having passed over an ex­tent of country of between three and four hundred miles, most of it blessed with the greatest fertility, producing, in the few cultivated parts, grain, fruits of various kinds, and silk in great variety and abundance, and abounding with as rich pastures as [Page 230] I ever beheld, covered with numerous herds and flocks. The air was charmingly temperate in the day-time, but, to my feeling, extremely cold at night.

Yet notwithstanding the extreme fertility of this country, the bad administration of government, con­spiring with the indolence of the inhabitants, leaves it unpopulous and uncultivated. Diarbeker, pro­per, called also Mesopotamia, from its lying be­tween the two famous rivers Tigris and Euphrates, and by Moses called PADAN ARAM, that is to say —"The fruitful Syria;" abounds with corn, wine, oil, fruits, and all the necessaries of life. It is sup­posed to be the seat of the Earthly Paradise, and all geographers agree that it was there the descendants of Noah first settled after the flood.

Insignificant as those circumstances may appear to mere calculators of profit and loss, it cannot be de­nied that they have a powerful and pleasing effect on the refined imagination. To be treading that ground where Abraham trod; where Nahor the fa­ther of Rebecca lived; and where Laban, to whom Jacob fled to avoid his brother Esau's resentment, and whom he served fourteen years for the love he bore to Rachel, was to me a circumstance produc­tive of delightful sensations. How finely has that giant of the pen, Johnson, justified those sensa­tions in his Tour to the Highlands of Scotland and Western Islands;—describing his emotions on visit­ing the famous island of Iona, or Colombkill, he says—"We were now treading that illustrious island which was once the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge, and blessings of religion. To abstract the mind from all local emo­tion, would be impossible if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish if it were possible. What­ever withdraws us from the power of our senses— whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, [Page 231] predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me, and from my friends, be such frigid philosophy, as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bra­very, or virtue!—that man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the Plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona."

The city of D [...]arbeker itself is situated in a de­lightful plain on the banks of the river Tigris, and nearly at its head; it is one of the richest, most trading, strong, and populous cities in Asiatic Tur­key; and is adorned with many pi [...]zzas and mar­ket places in the Turkish style, and a large magni­ficent mo [...]que, formerly a Christian church; for Christianity flourished over this country so late as the sixth century. There is even now a sect, whose patriarch still resides here: and they shew on the road near the town, a chapel where the holy man Job is said to be buried. This city is supplied amply with water by a canal cut from the Tigris, and has many caravanseras on both sides of the river.

Few countries in the world exceed that about this city for natural richness and beauty:—the bread and wine are excellent—the fruit beyond conception delicious—and my friend the Tartar took care, under pretence of supercilious hauteur, to tear in pieces a couple of fowls, and hand me now a leg, now a wing, till I made the most deli­cious repast I ever remember to have eat in my life.

It is computed that there are resident in this city no less than twenty thousand Christian inhabitants, some of whom are of the Church of Rome;—and perhaps it is owing to that mixture, that the fair sex have more freedom, and the men more polite­ness and affability, than those of any other city in [Page 232] the empire:—the chief business there, is making that fine leather commonly called Turkey leather.

Figure to yourself, my dear FREDERICK, my Tartar guide, who was an admirable actor, sitting at a caravansera in state at his dinner, devouring excellent fowls, choice pillaws, and delicious fruit, in as great pomp as a bashaw; and in order to keep up the semblance of authority over me, to favour my disguise, handing to me, who sat at humble distance, a part of his provisions. You may form to yourself an idea of the scene; but all the ef­forts of imagination must fall short of the manner, the figure, the words, the looks, and the actions of the Tartar; sometimes affecting contemptuous pity, sometimes supercilious arrogance; sometimes brutal sterness, and sometimes the gentle blandish­ments of conscious superiority; and all in such a masterly stile of performance, that I doubt whe­ther Garrick himself, with all his powers of coun­tenance, could outdo him. Critical though my situation was, and much as I was harrassed with the corrosions of mental pain, the extravagant action and lu [...]icrous pomp [...]sity of this man frequently overbo [...]e my prudence, and compelled me to laugh incontinently and loudly;—on all such occasions he would put his hands a-kimbo, draw up his eye­brows to his turban, screw down the corners of his mouth in the most rueful manner, and give a loud whew! with his eyes fixed in a stare at me, till entirely overcome with laughter, and ready to sink under it, I clapped my face between my hands, and, as well as I could, bowed in token of sorrow and submission; when, threatning me vehemently, and at the same time uttering a lamentable expressi­on of doubt that he was afraid he had had an idiot imposed on him, he would bust [...]e about, direct the horses to be got ready, and order me to get on horseback, with many denunciations of severe treatment, and a thousand flourishes of his whip over my head.

[Page 233]As I have rode along musing upon the contemp­tible stratagems to which I was reduced, in order to get through this country, for no other reason but because I was a Christian, I could not help reflect­ing with sorrow on the melancholy effects of super­stition, and regretting that that place, which in the times of primitive simplicity was called the Terrestrial Paradise; that place where GOD first planted man after the flood; where the god-like Abraham and the holy Job breathed the pure air of piety and simplicity; that place which from all those circumstances ought to be considered above all others as the universal inheritance of mankind, should now be cut off from all but a horde of sense­less bigots, barbarous fanatics, and inflexible ty­rants. And I could not help considering with melancholy concern, the blindness and infatuation of men, who, less earnest to accommodate them­selves than injure others, shut out their fellow-creatures from that which they themselves will not use, and, while they suffer millions of the richest acres in the universe to be untilled, and spend their sweetness in the desert air, with wicked jealousy, and envy more than diabolical, begrudge to others the little spot on which they stand, and chase them as they would a ravening tiger from their country.

LETTER XXXVIII.

AS we advanced towards the southward and eastward, in our way from Diarbeker towards Bagdad, I found the air become sensibly warmer, and observed that the disposition of the people grew more and more brutal. My guide's conduct for he knew them well) became proportiontely [Page 234] artful, and my manners were of course to grow so much the humbler. I observed, however, that his authority continued the same, and that he seemed to exert it with greater rigour; not in severity or chastisement, but in exacting implicit obedience. Yet still he evidently acted with great caution and circumspection; for, in some districts, he either avoided the little villages by a circuitous route, or dashed through them at a very quick pace, while the gaping multitude considered us as on a dispatch of haste and importance—in others, he entered the towns without reserve, and left it to [...]ance to de­cide whether we should be discovered or not. At some caravanseras he treated me with affected neg­ligence, at others he made me eat with him and drink wine, of which, in some places, he himself drank copiously, and at others as scrupulously re­frained from. And sometimes we lay at night out in the open air, rather than enter a town; on which occasions I found the weather as piercing cold as it was distressfully hot in the day time. Bred, as the man was, a mixture of slave and, ty­rant, I can suppose some parts of this conduct to arise from caprice; but, as he was naturally kind, as many of those aberrations from the usual mode of travelling were atttended with hardship and in­convenience to himself, and as my servant and the other Tartar were clearly of opinion he was right, I am rather disposed to believe that he, on the whole, acted from principles of sound sense and policy.

He frequently advised me against indulging in laughter; said it was unmanly, indecorous, incon­sistent with the gravity becoming a wise man, and withal dangerous.

One evening we came to a caravansera much fa­tigued, the day being extremely hot, and we hav­ing rode very hard—whether it was caprice or fatigue, or the suggestion of policy that moved him, [Page 235] I cannot say, but he was certainly more disposed to play the tyrant than I had ever before seen him. He flogged the men who took the horses, kicked every one he met, made the house ring with his enormous voice; directed supper to be got ready, ate growling, and finding fault with every thing; and under pretence of disliking the ingredients of an excellent pillaw, handed it over to me, saying, "Here, Jimmel (the name he called me), here, take this filth, and cram it down thy coarse throat, it is only fit for a Frank"—I took it with best air of humility I could assume; and tearing the meat with my fingers, which I also used instead of a spoon to eat the rice, swallowed it eagerly; he watching me all the time attentively. When I had finished it, I gave him a hint in the Frank lan­guage, that I should like to wash it down with some wine; but he did not, or rather would not under­stand me.

Supper done, he ordered a servant to attend him with some water, and directed him to wash his feet; while that operation was performing, he continued menacing every one about him. My servant, who sat next me and behind him, interpreted every thing he said. "Yes, ye slaves," said he, as he lolled back upon his cushion, "yes, I will make the best of you wash my feet; for who shall refuse to wash the feet of him, who represents the Sultan of the World, the Son of Mahomet, the Messenger of the Lord?" The poor fellow proceeded in his humble office, and only interrupted him by saying, "Blessed be my Lord the sultan, and glory be to the Lord our God, and Mahomet his prophet." "Yes, yes," continued my Tartar, "bless God and the prophet, and pray for his servant our sultan, and all who represent him like me, that slaves of your description are permitted to live: nay, thou shalt wash this Frank's feet:" then turning to me with an air of magisterial tenderness, "Jimmel," [Page 236] said he, "hold forth thy feet, and let them be washed by this disciple of Ali—I say, hold forth thy feet."

Scarcely able to refrain from laughter at this Bombardinian of the East, and his pompous man­ner of issuing his orders, I drew up my trowsers and took off my boots—the man brought fresh wa­ter, and fell to rubbing my feet with great good will and humility; yet evidently felt so much hurt at the humiliation, that I was sorry for it, and would rather have dispensed with the washing, though it was a luxury.

In the midst of this operation, the Tartar, who was reclining on his cushion, smoking, rose up, and stalking two or three times across the room, with the most ludicrous air of self conceit and im­portance, took his tobacco pipe from his mouth, brandished it in ostentatious parade, and in the tone and manner rather of one that was [...]aving than of a man in his sober senses, burst out with an emphati­cal expression of satisfaction, and said, "This it is to be protected by a great man: Mussulmen salam to him and wash his feet."

The extravagance of this sentiment, the absur­dity of its application, and the consequential so­lemnity of his action and countenance while he spoke, altogether rushed upon me with such impe­tuous force, that I could not resist it, and, in spite of every effort to restrain myself, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter.

Had I the pencil of Hogarth, the pen of Shake­speare, or the powers of a Garrick, I might attempt to give some idea of his countenance, when, turn­ing, he beheld me convulsed with laughter. I might attempt it, I say, but I could not do it jus­tice. Such a combination of ludicrous expression I never beheld; it was indeed an epitome of all the lower order of human passions. Fury predo­minated, but it was risible fury—it was fury that [Page 237] rather grinned than frowned; though under it were to be seen shame and mortification, sorrow and re­sentment, pride and degradation, silly bashfulness and decayed importance. For some time he stood transfixed to the spot, his eyes glistening like those of a rat in a trap; his pointed whiskers moving with the contortions of his lips, and his mouth every now and then opening like the beak of a wounded hawk. To utter his sensations he was unable; and he continued in this state, not only till my laughter was abated, but till I had time to reflect and be seriously concerned.

At length, without saying a sentence, he wheel­ed about, threw off his slippers, drew on his boots, vociferated till he brought all the people of the caravansera about him, and ordered horses to be ready instantly. As orders from such a person were not likely to be disobeyed, the horses were got ready. I saw that I must either proceed, or come to an open rupture with him; so recollect­ing that I was myself in fault, that a dispute might be fatal, and that at all events it was only the hu­mour of the moment, I drew on my boots too, and was ready to go, though I was much fitter for a twelve hours' nap than for an hour's travelling on horseback.

We mounted immediately, and it was my good fortune to have the best horse. He set out upon the gallop, the moon shining as bright almost as day; I put forward my horse, and kept rather be­fore him, which vexed him so, that he beat the poor animal he rode on most unmercifully. At length after about eight or ten miles riding, he called a halt—dismounted, and said he would rest there all night. I saw it was I resentment: but knowing that it would be in vain to remonstrate, I dis­mounted too; and, judging that the best way to mortify him in return, was to comply with affected approbation, turned to my servant and told him [Page 238] (knowing that it would go from him to the Tartar) that I was delighted with the beauty of the night; remarking at the same time, that lying in the sweet salu [...]ious air was far preferable to being confined in the sultry fi [...]th of a caravansera.

As soon as this was communicated to the Tartar, he remarked, that the open air was the fittest place for the beasts of the forest, and therefore suitable to a Frank: but for his part, he had much rather repose on a cushion, which he should have done, had it not been for my accursed [...]sible faculties.

Here the conversation rested, and we fell asleep. In a few hours he awoke us, and we set forward: after some pause, he began in the following man­ner, when was interpreted to me, as he spoke, by my servant:

"Surely God made laughter for the derision and shame of mankind, and gave it to the Franks and the monkies; for the one ha, ha, ha's, and the other he, he, he's, and both are malicious, mis­chievous, and good for nothing but to f [...]et and tan­talize all that come across them."

Here he paused, as waiting for something to be said: however, I remained silent. At length, he continued: "Not but that, with all their laughter, they have the wisdom to take special care of them­selves; for half a dozen monkies, will he, he, he, and empty a whole orchard of its fruit in the reck­oning of a hundred; and a Frank will ha, ha, ha, and eat you up pillaws and poultry like a wolf, and drink up wine with the same moderation that a camel drinks up water."

I thought I should have choaked with smothered laughter: I would not however interrupt him, and [...]o contrived to keep it to myself: he proceded to apothegmatise:

"But with all their he, he, he's, and ha, ha, ha's, it sometimes turns out that they are caught: the monkey is seized in a trap and caged or knock­ed [Page 239] in the head, and the Frank is put in jail, and bastinadoed or hanged; and then the tune is chan­ged, and it is Oh, ho, ho!" Here he began to mimic crying so admirably, and at the same time so ridiculously; that I burst out laughing again.

"Observe, Jimmel," said he hastily, "observe! you can't refrain! But by our holy prophet," said he seriously, "it may end as I said: so look to your­self, and avoid laughter in caravanseras, or we part; for there are places, and that was one of them last night, where suspicion would ruin you. And if you lost your life, what should I say for myself on my return to Aleppo? Eh, what should I say for myself? Ha ha, ha! would not do. No, no, they would not believe it, and I should lose my character."

"Why don't you laugh yourself?" said I.

"Very seldom, or rather never," returned he; "at least I would not in time of danger. No, no, none but Christians and monkies makes a practice of laughing—Turks and Tartars are wiser." I pro­mised him, that I would in future take more care; and, by way of appeasing him with a little slavery, said, that he played his part so admirably, it was impossible to resist the impulse. But he answered, with a grave face, that his action in that care was of too serious nature to be made a subject of merriment —and advised me to believe it so.

LETTER XXXIX.

THE solicitude of my guide for my safety was the earnestness of a man of business zealous to discharge with the utmost punctuality the duty he had undertaken; and I must observe to you, that [Page 240] the whole of his conduct evinced a precision and punctually of dealing rarely found in our intercourse with mankind. Previous to leaving Aloppo, he had undertaken to convey me safe—he was, as you may already perceive, indefatigable and unremitting in his endeavours to do so; he had promised to sup­ply me with food—so he did, in the most ample manner; he promised to go as I pleased fast or slow —so he did; he promised to change horses with me, as often as I thought proper to desire—he did so. But beyond this, he seemed to carry his care of me no farther than to any bale of goods he might have in his charge. He was bound to deliver me safe, in good order and condition, at Bagdad: so much he was determined to do, and no more did he think of. I had got letters to the bashaws of some of the towns through which we were to pass: but as the delivery of a letter is, according to the custom of that country always accompanied with a present, I thought it better to decline delivering them, except when necessity compelled—though the state of the country was so unsettled, that we often had occasion for a guard.

As soon as the remembrance of the laughing affair was a little decayed, the Tartar began to relax into good humour, and to talk with his usual vehemence; for he was always, according to the flow of his spirits, either sullenly silent or extravagantly l [...]qua­cious. His tongue might be considered as a thermo­meter, by which the warmth or coldness of his temper might be calculated, and the ex [...]emes▪ of garrulity and taciturnity were the indices. His conversation, however, was very circumscribed, and consisted chiefly of stories of himself and his horse, the amazing journeys he made, and the fea [...]s of man­hood he performed. One circumstance I must in justice mention, as I think it mark [...] strongly the ha­bitual delicacy and modesty of this people. Al­though he frequently lamented my banishment from [Page 241] my family, and although we were for eighteen days continually conversing on a variety of occasions that might lead to the subject, he never once talked of women; never, in all his pity for my situation, glanced even remotely at the possibility of my get­ting a substitute in that way; never hinted that he thought of them himself. On seeing women, co­ming to the wells, they remined me of some of the stories in the Old Testament. I mentioned it, but it went no farther; for whenever the subject was started, he threw cold water on it.

That he conceived me to be in some respects a parcel of property, I have good reason to believe: for I observed that at some caravanseras the people collected round me, and regarded me with strong symptoms of surprise and pity; some viewed me with commiseration, some with contempt; but not one creature, however wretched or abject, seemed to envy my situation.

I was the more confirmed in this opinion by an incident that happened between Diarbeker and Mosul. One morning I was unusually overcome with the fatigues of the preceding day: the Tar­tar called me, summoned me to horse; and finding that I gave no answer, nor shewed any token of awaking, he lifted me in his arms bodily from my couch (such was his strength that he did it without any difficulty), carried me out without the least ceremony, and, before I was so completely awake as to be sensible of my situation, had me fixed up­on a horie ready to depart.

A transaction so very singular, you may well con­clude, surprised me at the time, and would not readily be forgotten: such a crowd of strange, con­fused, and incongruous thoughts and sensations as occurred to me, I never before experienced: they were painful, they were surprising—but I was in such a state that I could not afterwards analyse them. The chief reflection that arose from it was, [Page 242] that human sentiment must be in a deplorable state of degradation indeed, when such a circumstance could occur from the notion that a man was as much an asset or piece of property, could be trans­ferred by the same means, and moved in the same unfeeling manner, as any portion of inert matter that makes up a bale of merchandize. Of the truth of this position I had soon after a melancholy proof, in an incident which, though lamentable, was attended with such ludicrous circumstances, that even now I never think of it without smiling —smiling, as I did then, with a heart bleeding with pity.

One morning I was awakened before day-break with a bustle in the caravansera where we lodged. I conjectured that the Tartar was preparing to get forward, and rose in order to lose no time. I was so far right in my conjectures: the horses were rea­dy, and I came out to mount, and was very much surprised to perceive several horses before me loaded with something which stood erect from their backs, and which I had barely light to discern were not men. I concluded that they were bales of merchandize packed in a particular form, and asked no questions till full day-light disclosed to me that they were human creatures tied up in sacks, and fastened astride on the horses' backs. There was a strange union of horror and oddity in the conception, that struck me at once with a mixed emotion of indignation, pity, and mirth.—The former however got the better, and I asked my servant with some warmth what it meant—He said that the sacks contained some young women whom the Tartar had bought.— ‘Good GOD! said I, is it possible that he can have bought wretched females to treat them with so little tenderness?’ ‘He has bought them, returned my servant, in the way of traffic, not for pleasure.’

[Page 243]"Suppose he has," said I, "suppose even they were men, not to mention young women, how can he imagine that they will survive this? Tied up and sweltered in a sack—fastened cross-legs, on a horse, and driven at such an amazing rate (for by this time we had set forward, and another Tartar was whipping the horses up all the time, and dri­ving them on)—how is it possible they can sur­vive? They must be smothered—they must be shattered to pieces—they must be stripped, exco­riated, and tortured to death!"

"If I might presume to advise," said he, "I would say that you had better make no remarks upon it: it would only get them perhaps worse treated, and raise his anger against you."

To conclude, I took his advice, and kept my mind to myself. The unfortunate women were in this manner carried fifty miles, at the end of which their tender-hearted purchaser disposed of them in some way of keeping till his return; when I sup­pose they were to be carried back in sacks astride upon horses, all the way to Aleppo, there to be sold to the highest bidder.

To us, my FREDERICK, who live in a country where an hour's detention in a house against our will is punished as unlawful imprisonment, and who feel and value the rich treasure of liberty above all earthly blessings, the bare idea of slavery appears horrible; when the miseries of slavery are sharpened by cruelty, our indignation burns at the offence: but such a complicated piece of enormity as that I have mentioned, almost transcends belief, and indignation is lost in amazement. There are but few men, even in our bracing climate, whom fifty miles riding would not shake to pieces, and torture almost to death. No woman would think of it. But when to that is superadded, first the compulsion—then the sorry and at best painful equipage of the horses—the tender persons, unac­customed to riding, of the women—the smother­ing [Page 244] heat of the sack—and above all the horrid cli­mate, burning with an almost vertical heat (vertical at least compared with our oblique sun)—it will be allowed to be a wonder, almost approaching to a miracle, that they survived one half of their jour­ney. The wonder-working hand of Omnipotence alone could bring them through it; and when I asked in the evening whether they were dying or dead, and was told that they were not only alive but in perfect health, I could not help repeating that most beautiful expression put into the mouth of Maria by the inimitable Sterne, "God tempers the wind to the side of the shorn lamb."

This affair tended to prejudice me strongly against my Tartar guide, and I was for some time that I could not look upon him without horror: but at length my resentment abated; and reason, resuming her seat of cool decision, told me, that though it was a crime and a grievous one, he was not so re­sponsible for it as those who, knowing better, au­thorised it by their concurrence, gave it the sanction of law, and made it familiarly practised; he only did that which he had been even from his mother's breast instructed to do, and should therefore not be judged by those rules which a Briton would lay down for the government of such cases.

A Briton!—Hold! Have I not now been utter­ing a most severe satire upon the British nation? Yes! imputing to men a virtue which they want, is the worst kind of satire—I meant it not at the time, but will not retract what I have written— Britons deserve the lash of satire! They deserve a worse lash: for the traffic in human bodies still stands a bloody brand of infamy on her great na­tional councils. Their brother's blood! the blood of millions of murdered Africans, like that of Abel, cries to Heaven against them, and will not, I fear, cry in vain.

[Page 245]Great God!—What a horrible thought!—what an indelible stigma! that a legislator shall, in the cold blood of commerce, make a calculation of the probable profit upon human lives—put commercial expediency in the balance against murder—and make convenience the excuse for crime!—Why, the robber may do so!—But shall Britons, generous Britons, who boastful claim precedence of the world in freedom, humanity, and justice—shall they look on and see inferior nations spurning from them with horror the debasing traffic; and stimu­lated by avarice, or misled by wicked policy, retain the blot that other states have wiped away, and live at once the curse of one part, and the scorn of the rest of mankind?—Forbid it mercy! Forbid it Heaven!—And oh! may that virtuous man, who, disdaining the malignant taunts of the base and interested, boldly steps forth the advocate of man and of his country, and session after session springs from the couch of repose which opulence presents him, to break the fetters and the scourges which improbity and avarice have forged for our fellow creatures—may he succeed and bear down all his opposers! and may the justice of his coun­try make his triumph and his glory as certain and complete here, as the justice of that Being, under whole direction he acts, will doubtless make them hereafter!

LETTER XL.

FROM the considerations I have already pretty fully mentioned, my mind was by no means at case. The incessant travelling for so many days, at the rate of seventy-five miles a day, to be con­tinued [Page 246] I knew not how long, increased my anx­iety: and the apprehensions of accident, interrup­tion, and above all sickness, intercepting me on my way, haunted my imagination with all its terrors. I was besides approaching fast to that region where the winds strike all living things that draw them in instantly dead: and conceiving that the more ex­peditions I was in getting over the journey, the greater chance I had of escaping those mischiefs; I pushed heartily forward, and urged the Tartar till he at last expressed his astonishment and approba­tion; paid me the compliment to say, that I was almost equal to himself for enduring fatigue; and concluded with a very sagacious surmise, that in all probability I had been myself a carrier of dispatches among the Frank governments.

One day after we had rode about four miles from a caravansera, at which we had changed our cattle, I found that a most execrable bad horse had fallen to my lot: he was stiff, feeble, and soundered; in consequence of which he stumbled very much, and I every minute expected that he would fall and roll over me. I therefore proposed to the guide to ex­change with me; a favour he had hitherto never refused, and for which I was the more anxious, as the beast he rode was of the very best kind. To my utter astonishment he peremptorily refused: and as this had been a day of unusual taciturnity on his part, I attributed his refusal to peevishness and ill temper, and was resolved not to let the matter rest there. I therefore desired the interpreter to in­form him, that as he had at Aleppo agreed to change horses with me as often as I pleased, I should consider our agreement infringed upon if he did not comply, and would write to the Consul at Aleppo to that effect.

As soon as this was conveyed to him, he seemed strongly agitated by anger; yet endeavoured to con­ceal his emotions under affected contempt and deri­sion, [Page 247] which produced from him one of the most singular grins that ever yet marred the human phy­siognomy. At length he broke forth:

"You will write to Aleppo, will you? Foolish Frank! they will not believe you! By Mahomet, it would be well done to hear the complaint of a wandering Frank against Hassan Artaz—Hassan the faithful and the just, who for ten years and more has been the messenger of an emperor, and the friend and confidant of cadis, bashaws, and vice­roys, and never yet was called so much as liar! Who, think you, poor misguided one! who, think you, would belive that I broke my promise?"

"Why do you not then," said I, interrupting him, "why do you not perform it by changing horses, when you are convinced in your conscience (if you have any) that it was part of your agree­ment?"—"Once for all I tell you," interrupted he, "I will not give up this horse. There is not," said he gasconadingly, "there is not a Mussulman that ever wore a beard, not to talk of a wretched Frank, that should get this horse from under me; I would not yield him to the commander of the faithful this minute, were he in your place: I would not, I tell you Frank—and I have my own reasons for it."

"I dare say you have," returned I; "love of your ease, and fear of your bones."

At hearing this, he grew quite outrageous—cal­led MAHOMET and ALLA to witness that he did not know what it was to fear any thing—declared that he was convinced that some infernal spirit had that day got possession of me—and indeed seemed well disposed to go to logger-heads. At length observing that I looked at him with sneering con­temptuous defiance, he rode up along side of me— I thought it was to strike, and prepared to defend myself. I was however mistaken; he snatched the reins out of my hand, and caught hold of them [Page 248] collected close at the horse's jaw; then fell flogging my horse and spurring his own, till he got them both in full speed; nor did he stop there, but con­tinued to belabour mine with his whip, and to spur his own, driving headlong over every impediment that came in our way, till I really thought he had run mad, or designed to kill me. Several times I was on the point of striking him with my whip, in order to knock him off his horse—but as often patience providentially came to my assistance, and whispered to me to forbear and see it out. Mean time I considered myself as being in some danger; and yet such was the power he had over the cattle, that I found it impossible to stop him: so resigning the event to the direction of Providence, I suffered him without a further effort to proceed; I calling him every opprobrious name I could think of in lingua Franca, and he grinning, and calling me Dumus, Jihash, Burhl (i. e. hog, ass, mule), in rapid and impetuous vehemence of tone and utter­ance.

He continued this for a length of I dare say some miles▪ over an uncultivated tract, here and there in­tersected with channels formed by rills of water in the periodical rains; thickly set with low furze, ferns, and other dwarf bushes, and broken up and down into little hills. His horse carried him clean over all: and though mine was every minute stum­bling and nearly down, yet with a dexterity inex­pressible, and a vigour altogether amazing, he kept him up by the bridle, and I may say carried him gallantly over every thing. I was astonished very much at all this, and towards the end as much plea­sed as astonished; which he perceiving, cried out frequently and triumphantly, "O, la Frangi! Heli! Heli! Frangi!" and at last drawing in the horses, stopping short, and looking me full in the face, exclaimed in lingua Franca, "Que dice, Frangi—Que dice?"

[Page 249]For some time I was incapable of making him any answer, but continued surveying him from head to foot as the most extraordinary savage I had ever beheld; while he stroked his whiskers with great self-complacency and composure, and nodded his head every now and then, as much as to say, Ay, ay, it is so! look at me! am not I a very capital fellow?—"A capital fellow indeed you are," said I, "but I wish I was well out of your confound­ed clutches."

We alighted on the brow of a small hill, whence was to be seen a full and uninterrupted prospect of the country all round. The interpreter coming up, he called to him and desired him to explain to me carefully the meaning of what he was about to say; which I will give you as nearly as I can in his own words, as they were translated by the linguist:

"You see those mountains yonder," said he, pointing to the east; "those are in the province of Kurdestan, inhabited by a vile race of robbers called Jesides, who pay homage to a God of their own called Jesid (Jesus), and worship the Devil from fear. They live by plunder, and often de­scend from those mountains, cross the Tigris which runs between them and us, and plunder and ravage this country in bands of great number and formida­ble strength, carrying away into slavery all they can catch, and killing all who resist them. This country therefore, for some distance round us, is very dangerous to travellers, whose only safety lies in flight. Now it was our misfortune this morning to get a very bad horse, for which, please ALLA (stroking his whiskers), some one shall receive the bastinado. Should we meet with a band of those Curds, what could we do but fly? And if you, Frangi, rode this horse, and I that, we could never escape; for I doubt you could not keep him up from falling under me, as I did under you: I should [Page 250] therefore come down and be taken—you would lose your guide, and miss your way, and all of us be undone. Besides," continued he, "there are many villages here where people live, who, if they only suspected you were a Frank, would fol­low and sacrifice you if they could to MAHOMET, and where of course you must run for it."

As soon as the interpreter had explained this to me, "Well," continued the Tartar, "what does he say now to it?" Then turning to me, and tos­sing up his head—"Que dice, Frangi?"

"Why, I say," returned I, "that you have spo­ken good sense and found reason; and I am obli­ged to you."

This, when interpreted fully, operated most plea­singly upon him; his features relaxed into a broad look of satisfaction, and he said:—"I will do every thing I can to make you easy and contented: and when I am obstinate, don't resist—for be assured I have reason for it; and above all things avoid laugh­ing in my presence. But we shall reach Mosul by and bye, and probably then we may have no more rides." For I expected to get down the river Ti­gris from Mosul to Bagdad, and had told him so, and he encouraged me with the expectation.

That night we came to a caravansera which lay at some distance from a village. Here the Tartar, pleased with himself for the conduct of the day, and pleased with me for my approbation of it, or­dered a most admirable supper; and not only, as was very common with him, rejected the best dish in order to present it to me, but also selected for me the choicest bits of those upon the table. He then ordered wine, observing that the fatigue of a gov­ernment messenger demanded indulgence; and using a salvo of my suggestion on a former occasion, viz. that the Prophet would not be offended with travellers more than with the sick for taking it as it were medicinally.

[Page 251]We accordingly had wine, and admirable it was, though by no means equal to that we drank at the city of Diarbeker. I took little however, and the Tartar was much surprised at my abstemiousness; remarking, that he never saw a Frank before that was not a downright hog when he got the cup to his lips. My taking it in small portions, while he drank it as we do table beer, particularly astonished him. Before he lay down on his couch, he gave orders for horses, threatening the people with severe castigition if they gave bad ones; holding up as an example the person that gave us the stumbling horse that day, who he declared should be bastinadoed as soon as he returned, if there was a cadi within ten leagues of him; and I dare to say that he kept his word most religiously.

The next morning we had excellent cattle; fear produced wonders among them, and we set forward just as the sun rose. As we entered the first vil­lage, I was somewhat alarmed by perceiving my guide draw up his horse—deliberate—mutter to himself—and seem rather uneasy while he viewed a crowd that was up the street before us; some of whom I perceived to be agitated with some extra­ordinary motions of the body, while one man stood in the middle, rolling his body into a variety of strange contortions.—The Tartar, for a minute or two, seemed to be debating within himself whether he should proceed or turn about: at length putting me on his left hand, he set forward at full speed, leaving the crowd on his right, who, seeing the rapidity of our pace, flew on one side, and let us pass. We soon however heard shouting behind us, and could hear plainly the words, "Ghiaour! Frangi Cucu!" and looking back, perceived seve­ral ragged men like savages pursuing us, lifting stones occasionally, and casting them after us with all their might. The speed of our horses at last got us out of both sight and hearing; and I plainly perceived, [Page 252] and was for the first time convinced, that my guide's conduct was directed by sound sense, spirit, good faith, and integrity.

LETTER XLI.

THE extraordinary occurrence which I mentioned in my last letter required explanation, and my Tartar friend was not backward in giving it; for he loved exceedingly to hear himself talk, and, on any subject within the compass of his know­ledge, was shrewd, perspicuous, and even naturally eloquent: he had moreover on that occasion acted the part of a skilful general; and as I applauded his prudence and address, he was extremely kind and communicative, and gave me a full account of that affair, his motives, his deliberations, and the ur­gency of the case; and, in skort, every thing that could elucidate the circumstance, or aggrandize his own importance. It would be a pity to take it out of his own words: I shall therefore relate them to you, as I had them through the medium of our lin­guist, for they made an impression on my memory not easily te be erased.

"You must know," said he, "that there are spread over the face of this great and glorious em­pire a number of dervises of different kinds— holy men, who renounce the enjoyments and pleasures of the world to converse with Mahomet and wor­ship Alla. Some of those are very good men, in­deed saints, and never do any thing bad; preaching and praying, without hurting any thing, even a rat or a snake; nay, they would not hurt a Christian. There are others again, of whom I have heard our bashaws and effendis, and even the Maazeen, declare [Page 253] that they are forbid by the Koran; and yet the common people (the lower sort you know have no sense) reverence and worship them—they are called Santons; live by themselves, sometimes under ground like rabbits, end sometimes in the thickets and woods. They go where they please, take the best seat in any man's house, cram themselves with meat and drink, and yet none resist them; for some will not, and others dare not. Nay, they often pollute women in the open streets—and they never set their eyes on a Christian or a Frank, that they will not kill, if possible. For my part, I think that they ought to be hanged, every one of them that had a head to be hanged by—or rather staked —for no punishment is too great for them; but I dare not say so in that town—if I did, I should be stoned to death by the rabble.

"As soon as I perceived the crowd, and the ras­cals dancing, I knew that they were santons, and was sure that they would stop us in order to extract money from us; in which case they would most probably have discovered you—for they have the eyes of the devil. Nothing then could save your life; the crowd would join them, and your brains would have been beat out with stones. I had a mind to turn back and go round the town, but that might have caused suspicion, and got us perhaps intercepted; so I determined to push by them boldly, which I did, you can testify, like a brave man. You saw enough yourself, to convince you of the danger you have escaped, and of my wisdom and valour; let me therefore entreat you to be en­tirely guided by me, and above all things avoid that accursed propensity to laughter."

Since I first formed the resolution of writing this account of my journey, I have been at some pains to dip into the best histories of that country, and I find that in every instance my Tartar guide's in­formation was correct. Those santons, as well as [Page 254] other classes of dervises and sheihs, travel about the country, and levy contributions on the inhabi­tants: some are really what they pretend to be, and are as pure and as pious as the monks of the primitive Christian church; but the santons are monsters, who exist only by the barbarous creduli­ty and more than savage ignorance of the lower order of the people—though reprobated, and in­deed, execrated, by the better sort of Turks. They affect to be dementated (which with the Mahomedans is the greatest mark of sanctity), and under cover of that madness commit every excess and enormity, not merely with impunity, but with applause. Such is the melancholy state of degrada­tion, to which the weight of superstition's chains bends the mind of man! It is not long since I had a very pleasing discussion of this extraordinary sub­ject, with a gentleman of my acquain [...]ance, for whose veracity I have great respect. Superstit [...]on and credulity very naturally led to a consideration of the Turkish religion, and I expressed my satis­faction, that the worst excrescences of the Christian schisms could not be compared with the Turkish faith in their dervises. He said, that he agreed it did not go quite the length of the santons; but he related to me a conversation between him and a Roman catholic, not more than twenty-four miles from the enlightened city of Dublin, which sur­prised me much.

"I was," said he, "when a youth, very free in censuring all religions, and chiefly Popery; for, being bred among Roman catholics, I had the greater opportunity of seeing their absurdities, which I treasured up as so much gain, without ever taking into account their many virtues, of which they have their share. One day I was on a party of pleasure, at a place called —, and in pre­sence of a poor country fellow ridiculed the priest­hood, attributing to them many vices, and particu­larly [Page 255] fornication and adultery. The man resisted me, and declared it was impossible, Then I sup­pose, said I, if a priest and a woman were locked up in a room together for a year, and the woman in a week after coming forth was brought to bed of a child, you would not believe it to be the priest's. No, said he, I would not. Then how comes the child? I don't know, replied he—any way but by him. In short, he would believe in self-impregnation, or preternatural visitation, rather than allow a priest to be capable of fornication."

"But," said I, "you supposed a case—if the fellow was shrewd enough to say, no such case could at all happen, he would have put you down; that was what he meant, though he knew not how to go about expressing it.

The difficulties and hazards of the journey, which seemed to thicken upon us as we advanced, made me pant for a speedy conclusion to it; and the ad­venture of the last day opened more clearly to my view the dangers we had to encounter, which were still likely to increase as we got to the eastward and southward, where the fury of bigotry raged with­out remorse; where the greater distance from the seat of government made the populace more law­less, and the magistrate more corrupt and tyranni­cal; where the total seclusion from all well ordered society rendered the manners barbarous; where strangers were seldom seen, and when seen fleeced and persecuted; and where particularly I had rea­son to believe, scarcely any Englishman had ever set his foot; and above all, where the very winds that blew were charged with destruction, and car­ried instant death upon their wings. I therefore earnestly longed to reach Mosul, where the proba­bility was, I should get at least the more comforta­ble and commodious conveyance of water carriage, and where I might refresh myself completely, after the fatigues of so many days journey; and, if there [Page 256] was occasion, claim a guard and protection, having along with me a letter to the bashaw, which I might withhold or deliver, just as best suited my inclination or convenience.

I could not help viewing with a sad and melan­choly eye my present state; wandering, I may say alone, unaccommodated and wretched, through an inhospitable region, and more inhospitable people; where danger beset me in a thousand forms, and every step I took, I took in hazard of my life; and comparing it with those scenes of opulence and comfort which I had once experienced, where every lawful wish met with its accomplishment; where every necessity was supplied, and every difficulty obviated; where tender love and attachment antici­pated every desire; and soothed every care: where the mutual endearments and reciprocal accommoda­tions of tender relatives, wife, children, faithful friends, and kindly intimates gave a zest to life, made me feel that my existence was of interest to others as well as to myself, and communicated a conscious importance which the isolated, solitary, selfish man can never feel: I could not help look­ing back with grief and mortification, to think that I once possessed those blessings, and should perhaps possess them no more; but, on the contrary, might perish unknown, unheeded, and unlamented, in an unknown corner of the wilds of an unknown hostile country, without one friend to solace or to cheer me, or tell to those who loved or took share in my concerns, the place where I lay, or the par­ticulars of my fate.

Nor in this dismal train of reflections was Aleppo forgotten. It made the great connecting link be­tween my former happiness and present misery; it was, as it were, the door through which I passed when I took my last farewell of comfort: when it closed and shut me out, the prospect was indeed gloomy; nor did I after feel one happy sensation, [Page 257] unless the convulsive transports of a laugh, and the boisterous fleeting mirth arising from the singulari­ties of my guide, which, as the surge raised by the tempest above its proper height lifts up the shat­tered bark only to cast it on the beach and leave it ship-wrecked, elevated my spirits for the moment beyond their proper pitch, to retire quickly, and leave them in the horrors of ten times deeper melancholy.

Perceiving how much cast down I was, my friendly Tartar began to rally me: "Jimmel," said he, "the santons have frightened you:—but don't be afraid—HASSAN ARTAZ is no boy: he can bring you through greater difficulties than those, should they befall us."

"But how comes it," said I, "Hassan, that you, who have so much power at the caravanseras, have not power to resist those rascally santons, or the mobs of a village?"

"Why, as to the mob," said he, "if I was by myself, or had only a true Believer with me, I would make them fly before me like the dust be­fore the wind. As to the santons, no one can re­sist them: the Great, who hate them, are obliged to show them respect: and the bashaw of Aleppo, nay the Commander of the Faithful himself, could not save you, if one of them called on the mob to stone you, or tear you to pieces. However, be of good cheer; for, please ALLA, I will deliver you safe and sound to the Coja at Bagdad: besides, we shall very soon be at Mosul from whence we will go down by water, which will be very pleasant: and the chief danger then will be in fair fighting, which is better than being cut off by santons.— Should there be occasion," said he, looking most ferociously and brandishing his whip—"should we be attacked by Curds or Robbers, you shall see— you shall see, Jimme!—Oh! holy Prophet, how I'll fight!"

LETTER XLII.

IT was early in the evening when the pointed turrets of the city of Mosul opened on our view, and communicated no very unpleasant sensations to my heart. I found myself on Scrip­ture ground; and could not help feeling some por­tion of the pride of the traveller, when I reflected that I was now within sight of Nineveh, renowned in Holy Writ.—The city is seated in a very barren sandy plain, on the banks of the river Tigris, em­bellished with the united gifts of Pomona, Ceres, and Flora. The external view of the town is much in its favour, being encompassed with stately walls of solid stone, over which the steeples or minarets of other lofty buildings are seen with in­creased effect. Here I first saw a large caravan en­camped, halting on its march from the Gulph of Persia to Armenia; and it certainly made a most noble appearance, filling the eye with a multitude of grand objects, all uniting to form one magnifi­cent whole.

But though the outside be so beautiful, the inside is most detestable: the heat is so intense, that in the middle of the day there is no stirring out; and even at night the walls of the houses are so heated by the day's sun, as to produce a disagreeable heat to the body at a foot or even a yard distance from them. However, I entered it with spirits, because I considered it as the last stage of the worst part of my pilgrimage. But al [...]s! I was disappointed in my expectation; for the Tigris was dried up by the intensity of the heat, and an unusually long [...]ought; and I was obliged to take the matter with a patient [Page 259] shrug, and accommodate my mind to a journey on horseback, which, though not so long as that I had already made, was likely to be equally dangerous, and which therefore demanded a full exertion of fortitude and resolution.—There are a thousand la­tent energies in every man, which only want the powerful voice of necessity to call them out: and now drawn to the top of my bent, I prepared my mind to set out in the morning, with as much cheer­fulness as if the hopes of water carriage to Bagdad had never once occured to my mind.

It was still the hot season of the year, and we were to travel through that country, over which the horrid wind I have before mentioned sweeps its consuming blasts: it is called by the Turks sa­miel, is mentioned by holy Job under the name of the East Wind, and extends its ravages all the way from the extreme end of the Gulph of Cambaya up to Mosul; it carries along with it fleaks of fire, like threads of silk; instantly strikes dead those that breathe it, and consumes them inwardly to ashes; the flesh soon becoming black as a coal, and dropping off from the bones. Philosophers consi­der it as a kind of electric fire, proceeding from the sulphureous or nitrous exhalations which are kindled by the agitation of the winds. The only possible means of escape from its fatal effects, is to fall flat on the ground, and thereby prevent the drawing it in▪ to do this, however, it is necessary first to see it, which is not always practicable.

But besides this, the ordinary heat of the climate is extremely dangerous to the blood and lungs, and even to the skin, which it blisters and peels away from the flesh, affecting the eyes so much that tra­vellers are obliged to wear a transparent covering over them to keep the heat off.

That night, Hassan said, that as we must proceed to Bagdad on horseback, he would stay the next at Mosul to refresh us; which I objected to: he then [Page 260] spoke of the succeeding part of the journey as a thing of nothing: we had already come near nine hundred miles, and had not above five to go: be­sides, as the weather was warmer, we would travel more in the night, and lie-by in the day-time, in places with which he was well acquainted.

In short, the poor fellow seemed to take an in­terest in my safety, and to wish to alleviate the pains of my mind; and he always concluded with a remonstrance against laughing, which from fre­quently hearing I now understood even in his own language.—"Don't laugh▪ Jimmel, don't laugh," he would say with great solemnity.—By the bye, I observed, that when he was well disposed to me he always called me Jimmel (a name which I presume he constructed, with my servant's assistance, from the resemblance of sound between Campbel and Camel, Jimmel being the Turkish for that animal); and when angry, he called me Frangi, with all its gradations of Turkish abuse, Damus, Cucu, &c.

That evening, as we sat in the caravansera▪ a man entered and spoke to Hassan, who seemed to pay great attention to what he was saying.—He was a well made man—below the middle size—and had that kind of countenance which bespeaks shrewdness, ingenuity, and mirth. At length he retired; and soon after Hassan bade us rise and follow him: he went into a sort of public room, where a number of people were collected, sitting as is the custom in coffee-houses on low stools. H [...]ssan pointed to me to sit down, which I did: then placing the Interpreter near us, he sat himself: and straight I perceived the little man, who had just been speaking to him, step forth from the crowd and begin to pronounce a sort of prologue, which I neither understood nor wished to under­stand: it appeared from his cadences to be metrical, and seemed, by the little impression it made on his auditors, to have nothing particular to recommend [Page 261] it. At length, however, he paused, and, hem­ming several times to clear his pipes, began again to hold forth. "He is going to tell a story," said the Interpreter. The attention of all was fixed upon him, and he proceeded with a modulation of tones, a variety of action, and an energy of ex­pression, that I think I have never heard or seen excelled: his action indeed was singularly admira­ble; and I could perceive that he was occasionally speaking in the tones of a man and a woman: in which latter character he gave a picture of whining ludicrous distress, that moved the risible muscles of all the company. I looked at Hassan, and he was grinning as merrily as could any monkey or Frank in Asia. The Linguist occasionally inter­preted what the story-teller was saying; and I soon began to suspect that it was a story I had more than once read in the Arabian Nights, though altered, and in some measure dramatized by the speaker. I looked several times archly at Hassan, and he re­turned my glance, as much as to say, You see I don't laugh at all this. At length, however, the orator came to a part where he was to mimic a poor little hunch back (for I now discovered it to be the story of little Hunch-back) choking with a bone: he threw up his back; squeezed till all the blood in his body seemed collected in his face, his eyes rolled in their sockets, his knees knocked, he twisted and folded his body, putting his fore finger, and thumb into his throat, and pull­ing with all his might, as if to pull something out: at length he grew weaker, stretched his arms down, and his fingers back, like those of a person stranggling—kicked, fell, quivered, and died. It is impossible for any description to do justice to the perfection of his acting; and what rendered it the more extraordinary was, that though it was a scene of death, and well acted death he continued to render it so ludicrous in circumstances, [Page 262] as to suspend the audience between a laugh and cry. They did not remain long so; for he sudden­ly bounced up, and began the most doleful lamen­tation of a woman, and exhibited such a scene of burlesque distress as I never witnessed. All burst out in torrents of laughter, Hassan as well as the rest—I alone remained purposely serious; and the orator, according to custom, broke off in the mid­dle of an interesting scene.

When we returned to the caravansera, I rallied the Tartar on the score of his laughter: he growled, and said, "who could avoid it? Why did not you laugh as you were wont?"— ‘Because, said I, he did not act as cornically as you.’—"No," returned he, "but because Franks and monkies on­ly laugh for mischief, and where they ought not. No, Jimmel, you will never see me laugh at mis­chief."—"What," said I, "not a a poor man's being choked to death!"—"Nay," said he, "I seldom laugh, Yet I could not avoid it then." That very hour, however, a puppet-show was exhibited in the same room, and my grave guide laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and his voice sunk into a warning treble. Kara ghuse was certainly extravagantly comical, though filthy; and frighten­ed a cad [...] with a whole troop of Janissaries, by letting fly at them a shot or two— a parte post—

The next day we set out well mounted, and push­ed on with renovated spirits towards Bagdad.— Hassan could no more have the assurance to censure laughing and, as I was little disposed to do it in time of danger, we were likely to agree well. In short, we began to like one another's company; and if I brought him to be a greater laugher than he used to be, he gave himself the credit of having made me much more serious than I had been before—I pro­filed by his instructions.

It would be an effort as idle and fruitless on my [...] [...]ntertaining and uninteresting on yours, [Page 263] to attempt to give you a regular detail of our pro­gress from Mosul to Bagdad; the same general cau­tions were observed, with the same occasional re­laxations. Hassan still continued to treat me with a repetition of himself and his horse, his own feats and his horse's feats; to be silent when ill-tempered, and loquacious when gay; to flog the attendants at the caravanseras; order the best horses, and eat the best victuals, and to give me the best of both; and finally we had our fallings out and fallings in again: but I had not the mortification of seeing any more women tied in sacks on horse's backs, and excoria­ted with a ride of fifty miles a day.

As we rode along we overtook several times straggling callenders, a kind of Mahomedan monks, who profess poverty and great sanctity; they were dressed all in rags, covered with filth, ca [...]ried a gourd, by way of bottle, for water—I presume sometimes for wine too—and bore in their hands a long pole decorated with rags, and pieces of cloth of various colours. They are supposed by the vul­gar to have supernatural powers: but Hassan, who seemed to have caught all his ideas from his betters, expressed no sort of opinion of them; he salam'd to them and gave them money, however. It was extraordinary enough, that they were all in one sto­ry—all were going on a pilgrimage to Mecca—or, as they call it, Hadje.

As soon as ever we got out of their sight and hearing, Hassan shook his head, and repeated "Hadje, Hadje!" several times doubtingly, and grinned, as he was accustomed to do when he was displeased, without being able to manifest anger. "Hadje!" he would cry, "Hadje, Hadje!" I asked him what he mean [...]; and he said, that these fellows were no more going to Mecca than I was. ‘I have a thousand and a thousand times," said he, met callenders on the road, and always found them facing towards Mecca. If I am going south­ward, [Page 264] I always overtake them; if northward, I meet them; and all the time they are going where­ever their business carries them. I overtook,’ con­tinued he, "one of them one day, and I gave him alms and passed him by; he was coming he said, after me, towards Mecca: but I halted on purpose for a day, and he never passed; and a merchant arriving at the same caravansera informed me, he had met the very same fellow four leagues farther northward; who had answered him with the same story, and still had his face turned towards the south."

Fifty years ago, no man in Turkey would have dared to hold his language; but every day's ex­perience evinces that the light of reason spreads its rays fast through the world—even through Turkey; and furnishes a well founded hope, that in another half century every monkish impostor (I mean real impostors,) whether they be Mahomedan monks, or Christian monks, will be chased from society, and forced to apply to honest means for subsistence.

LETTER XLIII.

AFTER passing through an immense tract of country, distinguished by nothing that could serve even as a circumstance to mark and remember our daily journeys, but which I observed to grow manifestly worse, both in soil and climate, as we proceeded Southward, we came in fight of the fa­mous city of Bagdad, on the seventh day from that on which we left Mosul, and on the eighteenth from that of my departure from Aleppo; in which eighteen days we had rode fourteen hundred miles, pa [...]ly through a route which no European, I have reason to believe, ever took before.

On entering the city, I desired my guide to con­duct me to the house of a Merchant, to whom I had got letters of credit and introduction. He took me accordingly through the windings of several streets, and at last stopped at the do [...] of an Arme­nian Merchant, or Coja, where he made me alight, and come in. I was received with great politeness; and, on producing my [...], sound that he was not the person to whom it was directed: I accord­ingly [Page 266] made a suitable apology, and was for retiring to find the house of the proper person, for which purpose the Armenian offered me a servant, when, to my great astonishment, my Tartar interfered; said that it was to this Merchant he brought all his goods, and that I must remain where I was; at the same time ordering the Armenian, in a peremptory tone, to take charge of me, and use me well. It was in vain that the Armenian endeavoured to ex­plain to him the nature of the business, and that I insisted I must go to the other Merchant—HASSAN was peremptory, and declared that I should not. It was so extremely outre and ridiculous, that I could not be angry; and the good Armenian unit­ing his voice with that of the Tartar, and entreat­ing me to favour him with my company, I acqui­esced, and indeed remained in his house all the time I was at Bagdad. This was proof positive, if any other than I already had was wanting, that he considered me merely as a piece of merchandise, which he was bound (according to the language of Merchants) to deliver in good order and con­dition.

I had undertaken, before leaving Aleppo, to give the guide, if he acted conformably to my wishes, and behaved well, twenty pounds over and above the hundred provided by the agreement: I therefore sent for him, to settle finally, and part. He had heard that I was a person different from what he had supposed me to be: but it did not alter his conduct, as might be expected, or make him stoop to cringing; he still spoke with the same honest, bold familiarity; and when I gave him the promised twenty pounds, he never hinted, cringed for, or even looked as if he expected more: but when we came to part, the feelings he disclosed, and those I myself felt, convinced me, that Man is not naturally that brute which prejudice has made him; and, when left to his own operations, [Page 267] the human heart would be uniformly kindly, affec­tionate, and sympathetic: the poor, rough, un­polished Turk, betrayed the strongest marks of sensibility, and I myself once more felt the uneasi­ness of parting.

I think this is the proper place to give you my opinion of the Turks, while the recollection of honest HASSAN is fresh in my mind; and I cannot do it better than by quoting the words of an excel­lent French Writer—

"The Turks (says M. du LOIR) are naturally a good people, which is not to be ascribed to the cli­mate; for the Greeks born in the same climate have very different dispositions, and retain only the bad qualities of their ancestors, v [...]z. roguery, treachery, and vanity. The Turks, on the contrary, priding themselves on their integrity and modesty, are dis­tinguished in general by an open, ingenuous sim­plicity of manners; courtiers only excepted, who, in Turkey, as every where else, are the slaves of ambition and avarice."

The name of Bagdad has been so renowned in Eastern story, and is the scene of so many of those bewitching tales which we find translated, or pre­tended to be translated, from the Arabic and Per­sian, that I felt great pleasure in seeing it, and con­ceived myself to be at the very fountain-head of marvellous adventure and romance. Fraught with this idea, I was impatient to go forth into the town; and notwithstanding the weather was be­yond conception hot, I paraded a number of streets: but never did I, in the course of my life, see a place so calculated to belie the opinion one would form of it from the eastern tales. It appeared to me to be among the most disagreeable cities of the world, and has no one circumstance that I could discover to recommend it: the heat is so great, that in the Summer-time the inhabitants are forced to keep their markets in the night, and to lie [Page 268] all night in the open air, on the terraces of their houses.

The Armenian with whom I resided, did every thing in his power to render the place agreeable to me; and I shall always retain a lively sense of his goodness and hospitality: he was not only generous and polite, but well informed, and pleasing in con­versation. I took occasion to express to him the disappointment I felt at finding Bagdad so very dif­ferent from what I expected; and told him that I had, when a youth, learned to think highly of it, or rather romantically, from reading Eastern tales. This led to a conversation on the Arabian Nights Entertainments, a copy of which he had in the Arabic, and produced it: he then shewed me, with great triumph, a French translation of them, print­ed at Paris, which he had read, and declared that the translation was nothing it all in comparison with the original. I believe he was well qualified to judge, for he was a perfect master of the French language.

We talked of the Eastern tale of the Glass Man, who, in a reverie, increases his stock till he gets so rich as, in imagination, to marry the Cadi's daughter, &c. &c. and in kicking his wife, kicks all his glasses about, and destroys the whole of his visionary fortune. I praised the humour of it much —"Sir," said he, "there is nothing in it that may not be experienced frequently in actual life: those waking dreams are the usual concomitants of opium: a man who has accustomed himself to the pernici­cious practice of eating opium, is constantly sub­ject to them. I have, in the course of my time, found a thousand of those dreamers holding forth in the plenitude of imaginary power. I have seen a common porter become Cadi, and order the basti­nado. I have seen a wretched tailor raised by the effects of opium to the office of Aga of the Janis­saries, deposing the Sultan, and ordering the bow­string [Page 269] to all about him. I have seen some indulg­ing in the blandishments of love with Princesses, and others wallowing in the wealth of Golconda. But the most extr [...]ordinary visionary of this kind I ever met with, was one who imagined himself translated to Paradise, co-equal to Mahomet, and sitting by the side of that prophet, arguing with him in defence of the use of wine and opium: he argued most ingeniously, listened in silence to the supposed arguments of his adversary, answered them, replied, rejoined, and still argued on—till, growing at last angry, he swore that he was as good a prophet as him, did not care a fig for him, and called him fool and false prophet. A Turk who was present, in the fulness of his zeal, laid a stick very heavily across his shoulders, and put an end to the vision: and never did I see a wretch so abject, so forlorn, or so miserably desponding; he put his forehead to the ground, which he wet with his tears, crying, Mercy, Mahomet! mercy, holy Prophet! mercy, Alla!—nor could he find relief (such is the ruin of opium) till he got a fresh supply of it in his mouth, which soon gave him a temporary respite from the horrors of his situation."

Unquestionably, Bagdad was once a great city, of flourishing commerce; but the Sultan AMU­RATH the Fourth, when he made himself master of it, put the richest Merchants settled there to death; and it has ever since gradually declined. About two days journey from it, lie the ruins of the once famous city of Babylon. I was much dis­posed to go to see it, and thence drop down the Euphrates to Bassora: but my Armenian host told me there was nothing in it to recompense a person for half the trouble; for, of that magnificent city, which was sixty m [...]les in circumference, which was encompassed with walls eighty-seven feet in thickness, and three hundred and fifty in height, nothing was to be seen but the bare foundations of [Page 270] some great edifices. The Tower of Belus, and the Palace of Nebuchadnezzar, lie with the rest in un­distinguished ruin. The greatest curiosities, then, were, in the first place, the ruins of a building said to be the famed Tower of Babel, which ap­peared to have been half a league in compass; and the remains of a vast bridge over the Euphrates, where it is half a league broad.

I was not more anxious to arrive at the city of Bagdad than I was to leave it; and having written letters, and put them in a way of being forwarded to Europe, I took leave of my friendly hospitable Armenian, and, with a thousand acknowledgments for his kindness, set out on horseback to a place on the Tigris, where I embarked in a boat, in order to proceed to Bassora. This river, known since the first records of human existence by Geogra­phers, is remarkable for its rapidity, whence, PLINY says, it has the name of Tigris, (in the Median language, a dart); and for its extraordinary course, which is in many places under ground, rises in Armenia, sinks into the earth near mount Taurus, and runs under a mountain—then rising at the other side, follows its course through the lake Thespites—again sinks frequently under ground, and continues hid at one time for a space of twen­ty-five miles; where, once more emerging, it glides along wiih a very rapid stream, meets the Euphrates at a place called Korna, passes through Bassora, and falls into the Persian Gulph.

As the boat in which I took my passage had no convenience for excluding the violence of the sun, except an awning, I suffered extremely from the heat. The River itself was grand; but the banks, and contiguous country, contained nothing to at­tract notice—no object to diversify the dreary, de­ser [...]ed aspect of the scene—nothing to afford room for reflection, or give birth to a new idea. I do not remember to have ever passed through such a [Page 271] vast extent of country, so uniformly dull and unin­teresting. The only thing that served to keep the mind alive, was the apprehension of robbers, who, in great numbers, hover over this river, and plun­der passengers. We had taken care, on leaving Bagdad, to be well provided with fire-arms; and they did us yeomen's service—for we were fre­quently attacked by robbers with a view to plun­der, but found that a shot or two dispersed and sent them off in consternation. One night, however, in passing a creek, we perceived several boats issu­ing from it, in great order, and in a manner that evinced method and premeditation: we silently prepared for their reception, and were completely ready to meet them warmly, while they thought us quite unprepared, and unconscious of their ap­proach: they first endeavoured to board us by sur­prise: wishing rather to frighten than to kill them, we began by firing over their heads; on which they set up the most horrible shouts, and rushed on with a tumultuous rapidity, making the most terrible noise in order to intimidate us: they were by this time quite near us; we therefore took aim at them, and let fly, and immediately perceived them in great confusion, some of the boats losing their helm, and falling with the stream on the others: at last we saw them sheer off, and they gave us no farther trouble.

LETTER XLIV.

AFTER eight or ten as disagreeable days as I remember to have spent in my life, weakened with incessant watching, harassed with bodily fa­tigue, and melted with the excessive heat of the [Page 272] sun, I arrived at the city of Bassora, where I was received with the utmost hospitality by Mr. LA­TOUCHE, the Company's Resident from Bombay, who did every thing possible for my accomodation, and procured me every instruction respecting my further progress.

This city, as well as Bagdad, is famous in mar­vellous story. The country about it is considered by the natives as the best spot in Asia, though the burning winds annoy and frequently destroy tra­vellers, overwhelming them with mountains of hot sand, driven like waves of the sea, before the tem­pest out of the neighbouring deserts. It carries on a great trade, and is inhabited by vast numbers of Christians and Jews. The English and Dutch have factories here, as well for the purpose of commerce, as the transit of dispatches, by way of Damascus and Aleppo, to Europe. The Richest merchandise of India and Europe are brought here in caravans; and its opulence is greatly increased by the caravans of Pilgrims, who pass through it on their way to Mecca, and pay great duties, bartering for many rich commodities. The horses of this place are ce­lebrated for their superior excellence: it is said that they will run thirty hours without meat or drink—I doubt the fact, and should be sorry to see so inhuman an experiment tried.

One comfortable circumstance attending Bassora is, that at night the streets may be walked with perfect safety at all hours. It is subject to an Arab Prince, who is tributary to the Turk, and whose revenue is very great, as well from the above-men­tioned causes, as because he gives full liberty to all Nations to come and trade to his capital.

From Bassora I took my passage in a date-boat going to Muskat, expecting to get from thence a speedy passage to Bombay: but the boat sprung a leak at sea, and we were obliged to run into Bus­heer, where I was very hospitably received and [Page 273] entertained by Mr. GALLEY, the Company's Re­sident.

There really seemed to be an unusual fatality at­tending me throughout the whole of my journey. You will recollect, in the first instance, I was pre­vented, by the war with France, from going by the direct route which I should otherwise have taken, and obliged to pass through the Low Coun­tries and Germany—In the next place, at Venice I was disappointed in obtaining a passage to Lata­chaea; and, immediately on the heels of that, lost my servant at Trieste, by sending him for letters to Venice—Afterwards, when I had gone to Alex­andria with expectation of travelling through Egypt, and viewing that interesting part of the world, I found myself prevented by the unhappy circum­stances of the country—the plague raging in Alex­andria, and all the roads being blocked up by an incursion of the Arabs. Thus mortified and dis­appointed, I turned about, in order to make my way in another direction; and arriving at Cyprus, found, to my infinite surprise and regret, that an epidemic disease, little short of the plague, pre­vailed there, and swept off the inhabitants in great numbers: when, after surmounting all those obsta­cles, I arrived at Aleppo, the first information I got was, that the caravan was gone, and that it would be a long time before another would be ready; and my departure from Aleppo was attended with circumstances no less inauspicious than my en­trance—At Mosul I experienced another disap­pointment, by the river's being dried up, and ren­dered impracticable by boats—My passage from Bassora to Muskat was impeded by the vessel spring­ing a leak—And now, when at last I hoped to get from Busheer to Bombay, I was stopped by the intelligence that the Gulph was blocked up by French privateers, insomuch as no vessel could hope to escape, I was therefore obliged to remain at [Page 274] Busheer, till a Company's frigate, commanded by Captain HARDY, and soon expected should afford me an opportunity of proceeding to Bombay. Time, however, brought that period about; and I took my passage, and arrived safe at Bombay, where I soon after embarked on board a Portuguese vessel, being the only conveyance that offered for me to proceed to Madras: she was first bound to Goa, and we arrived safely at that island, where I was received with great politeness, and treated with the most friendly attention, by Mr. HENSHAW, the English Resident.

Goa belongs to the Portuguese: the Viceroy of the Nation lives there in great pomp. It was once the scene of the most abominable cruelties, exer­cised by that flagitious people on the natives, under pretended ze [...]l for Christianity—I had read the Abbè RAYNAL'S glowing description of it; and as I trod the ground, my frame trembled at the thoughts of the massacres perpetrated there.

I was impatient to get from Goa, and yet I look­ed forward to my departure with a secret uneasi­ness, for which I was entirely unable to account— I wished to proceed, and yet some secret foreboding whispered to my heart that I was on the verge of calamity: so powerful was it, and so obstinate, that I could neither reason away its admonitions, nor resist its impressions; and something incestant­ly told me, in as plain language as if a human be­ing spoke, that I should suffer a dreadful misfor­tune. As I had all my life been an enemy to superstition, I felt my spirit insulted, and my understanding degraded, by the involuntary victory which I allowed to this impression—I combated it with reason, with ridicule, with self-contempt —all in vain: in spite of me, I became the very slave of gloomy presentiment; and in order to get the succedaneous aid of a friend's reason, as well as to be prepared, I communicated the state of my [Page 275] feelings to Mr. HENSHAW. In vain he endea­voured to cheer me: all he could do was to give me his counsel; in consequence of which I actu­ally settled all my affairs up to that day, made my will, left it with Mr. HENSHAW, and, full of dreadful forebodings of shipwreck, went on board a Portuguese snow bound to Madras.

It was now the eighteenth day of May when we sailed from Goa. The hemisphere had been for some days overcast with clouds: some light showers of rain had fallen; and you may conclude that it did not tend to raise my spirits, or free me from ominous apprehensions, to hear that those circumstances indicated an approaching gale of wind. I observed, moreover, that the vessel was much too deep in the water, being greatly over­loaded—that she was in many respects defective, and, as the seamen say, ill-found, and in short ve­ry unfit to encounter a gale of wind of any vio­lence. I scorned, however, to yield to those united impressions, and determined to proceed.

On the nineteenth, the sky was obscured by immense fleeces of clouds, surcharged with inflam­mable matter; and in the evening, the rain fell in torrents, the firmament darkened apace, sudden night came on, and the horrors of extreme dark­ness were rendered still more horrible by the peals of thunder which rent the air, and the frequent flashes of lightning, which served only to shew us the horror of our situation, and leave us in increa­sed darkness: mean-time the wind became more violent, blowing on the shore; and a heavy sea, raised by its force, united with it to make our state more formidable.

By day-light on the morning of the twentieth, the gale had encreased to a furious tempest; and the sea, keeping pace with it, ran mountain-high; and as it kept invariably to the same point, the Cap­tain and Officers became seriously alarmed, and al­most [Page 276] persuaded that the South-West Monsoon had set in, which, if it were so, would render it absolute­ly impossible for us to weather the coast. All that day, however, we kept as close as the violence of the weather would allow us to the wind; but the sea canted her head so to leeward, that she made more lee than head-way; and the rigging was so strained with the work that we had little hope of keeping off the shore, unless the wind changed, of which there was not now the smallest probability. During the night there was no intermission of the storm: many of the sails flew into ribbons; some of the [...]igging was carried away; and such exertions were made, that, before morning, every stick that could possibly be struck was down upon the deck.

About seven o'clock on the morning of the twen­ty-first, I was alarmed by an unsual noise upon the deck, and running up, perceived that every remaining sail in the vessel, the fore-sail alone ex­cepted, was totally carried away. The sight was hor­rible; and the whole vessel presented a spectacle as dreadful to the feelings as mortifying to human pride. Fear had produced, not only all the helplessness of despondency, but all the mischievous freaks of in­sanity. In one place stood the Captain, raving, stamping, and tearing his hair in handfuls from his head—here some of the crew were cast upon their knees, clapping their hands, and praying, with all the extravagance of horror painted in their faces — there, others were flogging their images with all their might, calling upon them to allay the storm. One of our passengers, who was Purser of an En­glish East-Indiaman, had got hold of a case-bottle of rum, and, with an air of distraction and deep despair imprinted in his face, was stalking about in his shirt. I perceived him to be on the point of serving it about, in large tumblers, to the few un­dismayed people; and well convinced, that, so far from alleviating, it would sharpen the horrors of [Page 277] their mind, I went forward, and with much diffi­culty prevented him.

Having accomplished this point, I applied my­self to the Captain, and endeavoured to bring h [...]m back (if possible) to his recollection, and to a sense of what he owed to his duty as a commander, and to his dignity as a man: I exhorted him to encou­rage the sailors by his example; and strove to raise his spirits, by saying that the storm did not appear to me by any means so terrible as some I had before experienced.

While I was thus employed, we shipped a sea on the starboard side, which I really thought would have sent us down. The vessel seemed to sink beneath its weight, shivered, and remained moti­onless—it was a moment of critical suspense: fancy made me think I felt her gradually descending—I gave myself up as gone, and summoned all my for­titude to bear approaching death with becoming manhood.

Just at this crisis, the water, which rushed with incredible force through all parts of the vessel, brought out floating, and nearly suffocated, another English passenger, who was endeavouring to take a little repose in a small cabin boarded off from the deck: he was a very stout young man, and full of true spirit. Finding that the vessel was not, as I had thought, going immediately down, he joined me in exhorting the captain to his duty: we per­suaded him to throw the guns overboard, as well as a number of trunks and packages with which the vessel was much encumbered; and with some little exertion, we got the pumps set agoing.

Here I will stop, knowing the warm sensibility of my FREDERICK'S mind; and, convinced that his sympathetic heart will go hand-in-hand with his Father's suffering's, I will not overcharge it with grief by an immediate continuation of the business, but defer it to another Letter.

LETTER XLV.

THE name of the English passenger, whom I mentioned to you in my last Letter as assist­ing me in getting the Captain and Mariners to do their duty, was HALL. He was a young man of a most amiable disposition, and with it possessed all that manly spirit that gives presence of mind in exigences of danger. He and I having, with great difficulty, got some hands to stick to the pumps, stood at the wheel, at once to assist the men, and prevent them from quitting it; and, although hopeless, determined that no effort practicable on our parts should be wanting to the preservation of the vessel. The water, however, gained upon the pumps, notwithstanding every effort; and it evi­dently appeared that we could not keep her long above water.

At ten o'clock the wind seemed to increase, and amounted to a downright hurricane: the sky was so entirely obscured with black clouds, and the rain fell so thick, that objects were not discernable from the wheel to the ship's head. Soon the pumps were choaked, and could no longer be worked: then dismay seized on all—nothing but unutterable despair, silent anguish, and horror, wrought up to frenzy, was to be seen; not a sin­gle soul was capable of an effort to be useful—all seemed more desirous to extinguish their calamities by embracing death, than willing, by a painful exertion, to avoid it.

At about eleven o'clock we could plainly distin­guish a dreadful roaring noise, resembling that of waves rolling against rocks; but the darkness of [Page 279] the day, and the accompanying rains, prevented us from seeing any distance; and if they were rocks, we might be actually dashed to pieces on them before we could perceive them. At twelve o'clock, however, the weather cleared up a little, and both the wind and the sea seemed to have aba­ted: the very expansion of the prospect round the ship was exhilerating; and as the weather grew better, and the sea less furious, the senses of the people returned, and the general stupefaction be­gan to decrease.

The weather continuing to clear up, we in some time discovered breakers and large rocks without side of us; so that it appeared we must have passed quite close to them, and were now fairly hemmed in between them and the land.

In this very critical juncture, the Captain, en­tirely contrary to my opinion, adopted the danger­ous resolution of letting go an anchor, to bring her up with her head to the sea: But, though no sea­man, my common sense told me that she could never ride it out, but must directly go down. The event nearly justified my judgment; for she had scarcely been at anchor before an enormous se [...] rolling over her, overwhelmed and filled her with water, and every one on board concluded that she was certainly sinking—On the instant, a Lascar, with a presence of mind worthy an old English mariner, took an axe, ran forward, and cut the cable.

On finding herself free, the vessel again floated, and made an effort to right herself; but she was almost completely water-logged, and heeled to lar­board so much that the gunnel lay under water. We then endeavoured to steer as fast as we could for the land, which we knew could not be at any great distance, though we were unable to discover it through the hazy weather: the foresail was loos­ened; by great efforts in balling, she righted a lit­tle, [Page 280] her gunnel was got above water, and we scud­ded as well as we could before the wind, which still blew hard on shore; and at about two o'clock the land appeared at a small distance a head.

The love of life countervails all other considera­tions in the mind of man. The uncertainty we were under with regard to the shore before us, which we had reason to believe was part of HYDER ALLI'S dominions, where we should meet with the most rigorous treatment, if not ultimate death, was forgotten in the joyful hope of saving life; and we scudded towards the shore in all the exult­ing transports of people just snatched from the jaws of death.

This gleam of happiness continued not long: a tremendous sea rolling after us, broke over our stern, tore every thing before it, stove in the steer­age, carried away the rudder, shivered the wheel to pieces, and tore up the very ring-bolts of the deck—conveyed the men who stood at the wheel forward, and swept them overboard. I was stand­ing, at the time, near the wheel, and fortunately had hold of the taffarel, which enabled me to resist in part the weight of the wave. I was, however, swept off my feet, and dashed against the main-mast. The jerk from the taffarel, which I hold very tenaciously, seemed as if it would have dislo­cated my arms: however, it broke the impetus of my motion, and in all probability saved me from being dashed to pieces against the mast.

I floundered about in the water at the foot of the mast, till at length I got on my feet, and seiz­ed a rope, which I held in a state of great embar­rassment, dubious what I should do to extricate myself. At this instant I perceived that Mr. HALL had got upon the capstern, and was waving his hand to me to follow his example: this I wished to do, though it was an enterprise of some risk and difficulty; for, if I lost the hold I had, a single [Page 281] motion of the vessel, or a full wave, would cer­tainly carry me overboard. I made a bold push, however, and fortunately accomplished it. Having attained this station, I could the better survey the wreck, and saw that the water was nearly breast-high on the quarter-deck, (for the vessel was deep-waisted); and I perceived the unfortunate English Purser standing where the water was most shallow, as if watching with patient expectation its rising, and awating death: I called to him to come to us, but he shook his head in despair, and said, in a lamentable tone, "It is all over with us! GOD have mercy upon us!"—then seated himself with seeming composure on a chair which happened to be rolling about in the wreck of the deck, and in a few minutes afterwards was washed into the sea along with it, where he was speedily released from a state ten thousand times worse than death.

During this universal wreck of things, the hor­ror I was in could not prevent me from observing a very curious circumstance, which at any other time would have excited laughter, though now it pro­duced no other emotion than surprise—We hap­pened to be in part laden with mangoes, of which the island of Goa is known to produce the finest in the world; some of them lay in baskets on the poop; a little black boy, in the moment of greatest danger, had got seated by them, devouring them voraciously, and crying all the time most bitterly at the horrors of his situation!

The vessel now got completely water-logged; and Mr. HALL and I were employed in forming conjectural calculations how many minutes she could keep above water, and consoling one another on the unfortunate circumstances under which we met— lamenting that fate had thus brought us acquainted only to make us witnesses of each other's misery, and then to see one another no more.

[Page 282]As the larboard side of the vessel was gradually going down, the deck, and of course the capstern, became too nearly perpendicular for us to continue on it: we therefore foresaw the necessity of quit­ting it, and got upon the starboard side, holding fast by the gunnel, and allowing our bodies and legs to yield to the sea as it broke over us. Thus we continued for some time: at length the severity of the labour so entirely exhausted our strength and spirits, that our best hope seemed to be a speedy conclusion to our painful death; and we began to have serious intentions of letting go our hold, and yielding ourselves up at once to the fury of the waves.

The vessel, which all this time drifted with the sea and wind, gradually approximated the shore, and at length struck the ground, which for an in­stant revived our almost departed hopes; but we soon found that it did not in the smallest degree better our situation—Again I began to yield to utter despair—again I thought of letting go my hold, and sinking at once: It is impossible thought I ever to escape—why, then, prolong, for a few minutes, a painful existence that must at last be given up? Yet, yet, the all-subduing love of life suggested, that many things apparently impossible had come to pass; and I said to myself, If life is to be lost, why not lose it in a glorious struggle? Should I survive it by accident, life will be ren­dered doubly sweet to me, and I still more worthy of it by persevering fortitude.

While I was employed in this train of reflection, I perceived some of the people collecting together, talking, and holding a consultation—It immedi­ately occurred to me, that they were devising some plan for escaping from the wreck, and get­ting on shore: and, so natural is it for man to cling to his fellow-creature for support in difficult or dangerous exigences, I proposed to Mr. HALL to [Page 283] join them, and take a share in the execution of the plan—observing to him at the same time, that I was determined at all events to quit the vessel, and trust to the protection and guidance of a superintending Providence for the rest.

LETTER XLVI.

AS prodigality of life is, in some cases, the excess of virtue and courage—so there are others in which it is vice, meanness and cowardice. True courage is, according to the circumstances under which it is to operate, as rigidly tenacious and vigilant of life in one case, as it is indifferent and regardless in another; and I think it is a very strange contradiction in the human heart (although it often happens), that a man who has the most un­bounded courage, in seeking death even in the can­non's mouth, shall yet want the necessary resolu­tion to make exertions to save his life in cases of ordinary danger. The unfortunate English Purser could not collect courage sufficient to make an effort to save himself; and yet I think it probable that he would have faced a battery of artillery, or exposed himself to a pistol-shot, if occasion required, as soon as any other man. Thus it appears at first view: but may not this seeming incongruity be explained by saying, that personal courage and for­titude are different qualities of the mind and body, and depend upon the exercise of entirely different functions?

Be that as it may, I argued with myself, in the height of my calamitous situation, upon the sub­ject of fortitude and dejection, courage and cow­ardice; and, nothwithstanding the serious aspect of [Page 284] affairs, found myself listening to the suggestions of pride: What a paltry thing to yield, while strength is left to struggle! Vanity herself had her hint, and whispered, "Should I escape by an effort of my own, what a glorious theme of exultation!" There were, I confess, transitory images in my mind, which, co-operating with the natural at­tachment to self-preservation, made me persevere, and resolve to do so, while one vestige of hope was left for the mind to dwell on.

Observing, as I told you before, the people con­sulting together, and resolving to join them, I made an effort to get to the lee shrouds, where they were standing, or rather clinging; but before I could accomplish it, I lost my hold, fell down the hatch­way (the gratings having been carried away with the long-boat), and was for some minutes entangled there amongst a heap of packages, which the vio­lent fluctuations of the water had collected on the lee side. As the vessel moved with the sea, and the water flowed in, the packages and I were roll­ed together—sometimes one, sometimes another, uppermost; so that I began to be apprehensive I should not be able to extricate myself: by the merest accident, however, I grasped something that lay in my way, made a vigorous spring, and gained the lee shrouds. Mr. HALL, who followed me, in seizing the shrouds, came thump against me with such violence that I could scarcely retain my hold of the rigging. Compelled by the peri­lous situation in which I stood, I called out to him for GOD'S sake to keep off, for that I was rendered quite breathless and worn out: he generously en­deavoured to make way for me, and, in doing so, unfortunately lost his hold, and went down under the ship's side. Never, never shall I forget my sensations at this melancholy incident—I would have given millions of worlds that I could have recalled the words which made him move; my [Page 285] mind was wound up to the last pitch of anguish: I may truly say, that this was the most bitter of all the bitter moments of my life, compared with which the other circumstances of the shipwreck seemed lessened—for I had insensibly acquired an unusual esteem and warm attachment for him, and was doubtful whether, after being even the inno­cent occasion of his falling, I ought to take fur­ther pains to preserve my own life. All those sensations were passing with the rapidity of light­ning through my thoughts, when, as much to my astonishment as to my joy, I saw him borne by a returning wave, and thrown among the very pack­ages from which I had but just before, with such labour and difficulty, extricated myself—In the end he proved equally fortunate, but after a much longer and harder struggle, and after sustaining much more injury.

I once more changed my station, and made my way to the poop, where I found myself rather more sheltered—I earnestly wished Mr. HALL to be with me, whatever might be my ultimate fate —and beckoned to him to come to me; but he only answered by shaking his head, in a feeble, desponding manner—staring at the same time wild­ly about him: even his spirit was subdued; and despair, I perceived, had begun to take possession of his mind.

Being a little more at ease in my new station than I had been before, I had more time to deliberate, and more power to judge. I recollected, that, ac­cording to the course of time, the day was far gone, and the night quickly approaching: I reflected, that for any enterprize whatsoever, day was much preferable to night; and above all I considered, that the vessel could not hold long together—I therefore thought, that the best mode I could adopt would be, to take to the water with the first boyant thing I could see; and, as the wind and water [Page 286] both seemed to run to the shore, to take my chance in that way of reaching it. In pursuance of this resolution, I tore off my shirt, having before that thrown off the other parts of my dress—I looked at my sleeve buttons, in which was set the hair of my departed children—and, by an involuntary act of the imagination, asked myself the question, "Shall I be happy enough to meet them where I am now about to go?—shall those dear last remains, too, become a prey to the devouring deep?"—In that instant, reason, suspended by the horrors of the scene, gave way to instinct; and I rolled my shirt up, and very carefully thrust it into a hole between decks, with the wild hopes that the sleeve buttons might yet escape untouched. Watching my opportunity, I saw a log of wood floating near the vessel, and, waving my hand to Mr. HALL as a last adieu, jumped after it. Here, again, I was doomed to aggravated hardships—I had scarcely touched the log when a great sea snatched it from my hold: still as it came near me, I grasped at it ineffectually, till at last it was completely carried away, but not before it had cut and battered and bruised me in several places, and in a manner that at any other time I should have thought dreadful.

Death seemed inevitable: and all that occured to me now to do, was to acclerate it, and get out of its pangs as speedily as possible; for, though I knew how to swim, the tremendous surf rendered swim­ming useless, and all hope from it would have been rediculous. I therefore began to swallow as much water as possible; yet, still rising by the the boyant principle of the waves to the surface, my former thoughts began to recur; and whether it was that, or natural instinct, which survived the temporary impressions of despair, I know not—but I endea­voured to swim, which I had not done long, when I again discovered the log of wood I had lost float­ing near me, and with some difficulty caught it: [Page 287] hardly had it been an instant in my hands, when, by the same unlucky means, I lost it again. I had often heard it said in Scotland, that if a man will throw himself flat on his back in the water, lie quite straight and stiff, and suffer himself to sink till the water g [...]ts into his ears, he will continue to float so for ever; this occured to me now, and I determined to try the experiment; so I threw my­self on my back in the manner I have described and left myself to the disposal of providence: nor was it long till I found the truth of the saying—for I floated with hardly an effort, and began for the first time to conceive something like hopes of pre­servation.

After lying in this manner, committed to the discretion of the tides, I soon saw the vessel—saw that it was at a considerable distance behind me. Liveliest hope began to play about my heart, and joy fluttered with a thousand gay fancies in my mind: I began to form the favourable conclusion, that the tide was carrying me rapidly to land from the vessel, and that I should soon once more touch terra f [...]rma.

This expectation was a cordial that revived my exhausted spirits: I took courage, and left myself still to the same all directing Power that had hitherto preserved me, scarcely doubting that I should soon reach the land. Nor was I mistaken; for, in a short time more, without effort or exertion, and without once turning from off my back, I found myself strike against the sandy beach. Overjoyed, as you may well suppose, to the highest pitch of transport at my providential deliverance. I made a convulsive spring, and ran up a little distance on the shore; but was so weak and worn down by fa­tigue, and so unable to clear my stomach of the salt water with which it was loaded, that I suddenly grew deadly sick, and apprehended that I had only exchanged one death for another; and in a minute or two fainted away.

LETTER XLVII.

THAT admirable man and sagacious pe­netrating philosopher, Dr. FRANKLIN, has left us, among innumerable instructions for the conduct of human life, and for remedying many of the griev­ances of it, directions for going a voyage at sea, and has particularly enforced the folly of quitting ships hastily, and yielding one's self up to despair. I am convinced, that nine tenths of the people who perish by shipwreck, perish from the want of pre­sence of mind, and sufficient fortitude to bear them out. The unhappy purser, who sat deliberately in a chair, and suffered himself, without a struggle, to be carried overboard, is an instance in point. The feeble conduct of the captain and crew is another. Had he, instead of tearing of his hair, raving, and acting the part of a bedlamite, encouraged his men, and taken vigorous measures in time; and had they, instead of whimpering prayers on their knees, and whipping their images, made all clear, and prepared for the worst; in short, had they, according to the moral of the old fable, put their shoulder to the wheel, instead of calling on Hercules, it is not im­possible but the vessel might have been saved.

As for my part, the joy of escaping immediate death made me blind to the other miseries of my situation. Naked, moneyless and friendless, upon an unknown, and probably inhospitable coast, what reasonable cause had I to rejoice? Perhaps the re­verse. But that remains to be seen.

How long I continued in the swoon into which I had fallen, it is impossible for me to tell; but, when I recovered, I found myself surrounded by [Page 289] a guard of armed soldiers, sepoys, and pikemen. I knew them immediately to be the troops of HY­DER ALLI, and almost wished myself back into the waves again. Looking round, I saw that the people and effects that had been saved from the wreck were collected all together along with me.

In this state we remained till it was dark. A Lascar ^* belonging to the vessel, perceiving that my nakedness gave me great concern, tore into two a piece of cloth which he had tied round his waist, and gave me one part of it, which afforded a short apron. This simple act of a poor, uninformed black man, whom christian charity would call an idolator, methought had more of the true and es­sential spirit of charity in it, than half the ostenta­tious, parading newspaper public charities of Lon­don—the slough of purse-proud vanity, and un­wieldy bloathed wealth. Of all the acts of beneficence that I ever met with, it struck me the most forcibly: it had kindness, dis-interestedness and delicacy for its basis; and I have never since thought of it without wishing that I could meet the man, to reward him for his beneficence with a subsistence for life. The lower order of people of a certain country, I know, would think a man in such circumstances as I was then in, a fitter ob­ject of pleasantry than pity.

The vast quantity of salt water I had swallowed, still made me deadly sick in the stomach: how­ever, after some time, I threw it up, and got great relief. I had hardly felt the comfortable effects of this, before I was ordered to march: nine of us, all Lascars except myself, were conveyed to a vil­lage at a few miles distance on the sea-side, where we were for the night put into a square place, walled round, open to the inclemency of the wea­ther [Page 290] above and below, and filled with large logs of wood; it blew most violently, and the rain fell in torrents—while not one smooth plank could be found on which to stretch our fatigued and wasted bodies. Thus, naked, sick, exhausted with fatigue and fasting, drenched with wet, and unable to lie down, our misery might be supposed to be incapa­ble of increase. But, alas! where are the bounds which we can set to human woe?—Thirst, that most dreadful of pains, occasioned by the drench­ing with salt water, seized us: we begged, we entreated, we clamoured for water; but the inhu­man wretches, deaf to the groans and screeches of their fellow-creatures, (for some grew delirious with the agony of thirst), refused them even the cheap and miserable indulgence of a drop of water!

The influence of the mind upon the body has been much insisted on by philosophers and phy­sicians, and I believe will be admitted by all wise men. I was myself in this instance, a striking proof of it; for, though I had swallowed and thrown up so much salt water, though my thirst had exceeded any thing I had ever before felt—yet, finding that water was not to be had or expected, I composed my mind to do without it, diverted my thoughts from it by the contemplation of the many other evils which beset me, and passed the night without that horrible agony experienced by the others.

Indeed, a night of more exquisite horror cannot be imagined. The thoughts of being a prisoner to HYDER ALLI, was, of itself, sufficient to render me completely unhappy: but my utter want of clothes almost put me beside myself; and lying exposed to the open air, where I was glad to sit close to the Lascars to receive a little heat from their bodies, and to hold open my mouth in order to catch a drop of the descending rain, was a state [Page 291] that might be considered as the highest refinement upon misery.

About four o'clock in the morning, a little cold rice was brought us to eat, and water was dug out of a hole near the spot for us; but as all things in this life are good or bad merely relatively, this wretched fare was some refreshment to us. I was then removed to the ruins of a toddy-hut, ^* separa­ted from the rest, and a guard set over me. Here I had full room for reflection, and could "medi­tate e'en to madness." The whole of my situation appeared before me with all its aggravating circum­stances of horror; and to any one who considers it, I believe it will appear that it was hardly possi­ble to fill the bitter cup of calamity fuller. Oh! what were my thoughts! My family bereft of him on whose efforts they were in a great measure to depend for support and protection—you, then a little innocent cherub, appeared to my distracted imagi­nation twining round your mother's neck, and, in infant clamour, calling your father—while he, in a dreadful captivity, compared with which even a cruel death were mercy, lay wasting, naked and forlorn, perishing with the inclemency of the wea­ther, wanting even food fit for his support, and exposed to the scourge of every petty tyrant that barbarous power might employ to guard him!— Such were my reflections: they were in reason well founded; for there was no probability of my being ever released, as my captivity was unlikely to be known to my country, or by my friends.

In this state I was, when, to my utter astonish­ment, and to my no less joy, the amiable companion of my shipwreck, Mr. HALL, appeared before me. I scarcely knew how to think his appearance reali­ty, as I understood that the Lascars then along with [Page 292] me were all that were saved from the wreck; and he was, at the time I parted from him, so exhaust­ed both in body and mind, that I thought he would be the last who could escape. He, however, shook me by the hand; and, fitting down, told me that he had given me up for lost, and remained with the vessel until the tide, having ebbed, left her almost dry—that, immediately on getting ashore, and be­ing taken prisoner, he made inquiries about me, and heard that I had been saved—that, finding this, his joy was such as to make him almost forget his own misfortunes—and, exerting all his entrea­ties not to be separated from me, they had been so far indulgent to him, and had brought him to me, that we might be companions in bondage. He [...]ded, that out of eleven Europeans and fifty-six Lascars who were on board, only he and I of the former, and fourteen of the latter, were saved from the wreck, the rest having been drowned in the attempt, excepting some who, overcome with ter­ror, anguish and anxiety, and exhausted with fa­tigue, had bid a formal adieu to their companions, let go their hold, and calmly and voluntarily given themselves up to the deep.

I here took occasion to remark to him, what I have already said to you, that thousands lose their lives for want of perseverance, fortitude, and cou­rage to preserve them—Had the English Purser collected courage enough to hold fast till the tide ebbed, he might have been safe on shore as we were, as he was superior to either of us in bodily strength.

"Ah! my friend!" said he, shaking his head despondingly—"is he worse where he is? I doubt whether death is not far preferable to our present prospects."

"Come, come," said I, perceiving he was me­lancholy, though I myself laboured under all the horrors he expressed—"come, let us not think; all [Page 293] will yet be well: I foresee it will; and you must known I have something of the prophet in my nature—perhaps the second sight." I then told him my presentiments on leaving Goa, which much astonished him—still more when I acquaint­ed him with the formal acts I had done in conse­quence thereof, by Mr. HENSHAW'S advice, and with his privity.

In fact, our joy at meeting was reciprocally great, and in some respect cheered us for the time under all our miseries in hand, and the dreary prospect of those yet to come.

Perceiving that he stood as much in need of re­lief as I did when the Lascar relieved me by divid­ing his cloth, I took mine off, tore it in two, and gave him half of it: you may well conceive our misery from this, if other circumstances were want­ing, that such a thing as a rag of linen, not worth six pence, was a very material accommodation to us both.

LETTER XLVIII.

YOUR letter, occasioned by the account of my shipwreck and subsequent disaster, gave me, my amiable boy! as great pleasure as those disasters gave me pain. Your account, too, of JOHN'S bursting into tears on the reading of it to him, had almost a similar effect upon myself: and I trust in the Almighty disposer of events, that that excel­lent turn of mind will be so fashioned by the edu­cation I give you, as to make it the source of boundless gratification and true greatness (by which I mean goodness) here, and of never-fading feli­city hereafter. You say you cannot account for it, [Page 294] but you found more happiness at my escape, than misery at my misfortunes. I hail that circumstance as the strongest mark of perfect excellence of dis­position. A great moral philosopher has laid it down as a maxim, that it is the surer mark of a good heart to sympathise with joy than with sor­row; and this instance only comes in aid of that opinion of you which my fond hopes have always nourished.

At the same time I must declare to you, that my pleasure at escaping shipwreck was by no means as great as the agony my mind underwent as the pros­pect now before me was poignant. I have already said, and indeed with truth, that I should have with much greater pleasure embraced death: I, who had been already some years in India, and had op­portunities of hearing, as well from my father as from other officers in the service, what the disposi­tion of the tyrant in whose power I had now fallen was, knew too well the horrors of my situation to feel any thing like hope. The unmerciful disposi­tion of HYDER, and all those in authority under him, and the cruel policy of the Eastern chiefs, making the life of any one, particularly a British prisoner, at the best a precarious tenure, I did not know the moment when death might be infl [...]cted upon me with perhaps a thousand aggravating cir­cumstances: and at all events, the affairs which demanded my presence in India so very importu­nately as to urge me to all the fatigues and hard­ships of a passage over land, were, of themselves, sufficient to make my mind uneasy; but the abject state of want and nakedness in which it seemed I was likely to remain, struck a deep and damp hor­ror to my heart, and almost unman'd me.

Mr. HALL and I, however, endeavoured with all our might to stem the headlong torrent of our fate—Melancholy preyed deeply and openly upon him, while I concealed mine, and endeavoured to [Page 295] cheer the sinking spirits of that noble youth, who, I perceived was the prey rather of extreme sensi­bility than feebleness of mind. All the horrors of shivering nakedness, though, to a mind delicate like his, and a person reared in the lap of luxury, sufficiently goading, appeared as nothing when com­pared with one loss he had sustained in the depre­dations with which shipwreck is constantly fol­lowed up. In the cruel suspense between life and death, which I have already described, previous to my getting on shore, this amiable young man had secured and treasured next his heart, as the insepe­rable companion of his fate, a miniature portrait of a young lady; it hung round his neck, and was, by the unfeeling villains who seized him on his land­ing, taken away. This cruel deprivation was an incessant corrosive to his mind—the copious source of anguish to his heart—the hourly theme of the most pathetic, affl [...]cting exclamations. "Had I," he would cry, "oh! had I had but the good for­tune to have gone to the bottom while yet it hung about my neck, I should have been happy: but now, separated from the heavenly original, and bereft of the precious image, what is life? what would be life were I yet sure of it? What plea­sure, what common content, has the world left for me? None—oh! none, none! Never shall this heart again know comfort!

I did every thing I could to console him, and, as far as I could, prevent him from dwelling on those gloomy subjects. Our conversations were in­teresting and pathetic; but, alas! the picture, at every pause, chased away the flight impressions of the preceding converse: no sufferings of the body could countervail that loss—no consolation mitigate it; and amidst the horrid reflections which unpa­ralleled calamity imposed upon his mind, the loss of that one dear relic rose paramount to all—and as every thought began, so it ended, with the picture.

[Page 296]For some days we lay in this place, exposed to the weather, without even the slender comfort of a little straw to cover the ground beneath us—our food, boiled rice, served very sparingly twice a-day by an old woman, who just threw a handful or more of it to each upon a very dirty board, which we devoured with those spoons nature gave us.

At the end of that time, we, and, along with us, the Lascars, were ordered to proceed into the country, and drove on foot to a considerable dis­tance, in order to render up an account of ourselves to persons belonging to government, authorised to take it. It was advanced in the morning when we moved, without receiving any sort of sustenance; and were marched in that wasting climate eight hours, without breaking our fast; during which time we were exposed alternately to the scorching heat of the sun and heavy torrents of rain, which raised painful blisters on our skin: we had often to stand exposed to the weather, or to lie down, under the pressure of fatigue and weakness, on the bare ground; then wait an hour, or more, at the door of some insolent, unfeeling monster, until he finished his dinner, or took his afternoon's nap; and when this was over, drove forward with wan­ton barbarity by the people who attended us.

You, my FREDERICK! who only know the mild and merciful disposition of the people of Great Britain, where government, religion, and long habit, have reduced charity and benevolence so completely to a system that they seem to be in­nate principles of the mind, can have no concep­tion of a people who will not only look upon the worst human afflictions with indifference, but take a savage delight in the miseries of their fellow-creatures, even where no possible advantage can be reaped from their inhumanity, and where the only reward they can propose to themselves for their cruelty is the pleasure of contemplating human suf­ferings.

[Page 297]Such, sorry am I to say it, is the disposition of some parts of the East Indies that I have been in; and although those parts under the dominion of Great Britain owe their emancipation from the most galling yokes to the English—and though, under their auspices, they live in a state of greater happiness than ever they did, and greater freedom even than Britons themselves—yet such is the wicked ingratitude of many of them, such the inflexible animosity arising from a contra­dictory religion, that the death or suffering of an Englishman, or any misfortune that may befal him, often serves only as matter of sport or amusement to them. It would be well if it rested there— but unfortunately they are worse again; for in ge­neral they have the like coldness and indifference, or indeed, to speak more properly, the like aver­sion, to each others good; and the same diabolical principles of selfishness and treachery pervade the greater number in those vast regions, almost bound­less in extent, and almost matchless in fertility.

Two days after this, we were moved again, and marched up the country by a long and circuitious route, in which we underwent every hardship that cruelty could inflict, or human fortitude endure— now blistered with the heat, now drenched with the rain, and now chilled with the night damps —destitute of any place but the bare earth to rest or lay our heads on, with only a scanty pittance of boil­ed rice for our support—often without water to quench our thirst, and constantly goaded by the guards, who pricked us with their bayonets every now and then, at once to evince their power, en­tertain the spectators, and mortify us. We arrived at Hydernagur, the metropolis of the province of Biddanore—a fort of considereble strength, mounting upwards of seventy guns, containing a large garrison of men, and possessed of immense wealth.

[Page 298]It was about two o'clock in the morning when we arrived at Biddanore: the day was extremely hot, and we were kept out under the full heat of that broiling sun till six o'clock in the evening, be­fore we were admitted to an audience of the Je­madar, or governor of the place, without having a mouthful of victuals offered to us after the fati­guing march of the morning.

While we stood in this forlorn state, a vast con­course of people collected about, and viewed us with curiosity. Looking round through those who stood nearest, I observed some men gazing at me with strong marks of emotion, and a mixture of wonder and concern pourtrayed in their countenances. Surprised to see such symptoms of humanity in a Mysorian Indian, I looked at them with more scruti­inicing attention, and thought that their faces were familiar to me. Catching my eye, they looked at me significantly, as though they would express their regard and respect for me, if they dared; and I then began to recollect that they were formerly privates in my regiment of cavalry, and were then prisoners at large with HYDER.

I was not less surprised that those poor fellows should recognise me in my present miserable fallen state, than affected at the sympathetic feeling they disclosed. I returned their look with a private nod of recognition; but, seeing that they were afraid to speak to me, and fearing I might injure them by disclosing our acquaintance, I forbore any thing more. The guilty souls of despotic governments are perpetually alive to suspicion: every look alarms them; and alarm or suspicion never fails to be fol­lowed up with proscription or death.

Men, when in the fullness of power and pride of office, very seldom give themselves time to reflect upon the instability of human greatness, and the uncertainty of earthly contingencies. When, in­vested with alll the trappings of authority, I com­manded [Page 299] the regiment to which those poor fellows belonged, I would have thought that he spoke wildly indeed who would have alledged that it was possible I could ever become an object of their pity —that I should stand naked and degraded before them, and they be afraid to acknowledge me; but, though I should have thought so then, it was yet some comfort to me, when that unfortunate event did come to pass, to reflect, that, when in power, I made such use of it as to excite emotions in their bosoms of affection and respect. Did the tyrant and overbearing insolent chiefs consider this, and govern themselves by its instructions, they would go into the field with the consoling reflection, that no gun would be levelled at their head except that of the common enemy—a thing that does not al­ways happen.

LETTER XLIX.

HAD we been made prisoners of war in battle against an enemy, there is no law of nature or nations, no rule of reason or principle of equity, that could palliate such treatment as that which we now received: but, cast by misfortune and ship-wreck on their shore, we were entitled to solace and protection. The word wretches who hang out false beacons on the western coasts of England, to allure ships to their destruction, would not be cruel without temptation; and, if they did not expect to gain some profit by it, would rather decline knocking their fellow-creatures in the head▪ but those barbarians, without any profit but what a malignant heart derives from the miseries of others, or any pleasure but what proceeds from their [Page 300] pain, exercised upon us the most wanton cruelty. Compared with such treatmen, instant death would have been an act of mercy to us; and we should have had reason to bless the hand that inflicted it.

Mortifications of one sort or other—the incessant torturing of the mind on the rack of suspense—the injuries to the animal system, occasioned by con­stant exposure to the weather, and the want of food —all conspired to reduce me to the dimensions and feebleness of a skeleton. I had grown daily weaker and weaker, and was now nearly exhausted, and quite faint; while, on the other hand, my amiable companion in affliction was reduced by a dysentery, which attacked him soon after our shipwreck, and which the torments of his mind, the want of medi­cine and comfortable food, and, above all, the alter­nate violent changes from profuse perspiration in walking to chilling cold at night, had increased to such an alarming degree, that he was obliged to be carried the two last days journey:—In this state, we appeared to each other as two spectres hanging over the brink of the grave: and in truth, perceiv­ing the rapid progress he was making to his dissolu­tion, I was affected to a degree, that, while it really exasperated my own worn-down state, deprived me of all attention to the rapid decline I was fall­ing into, and almost entirely engrossed my care. In my progress through life, I have had occasion to try several men, and have found among them many who were every thing that a good heart could wish to find: but this young gentleman had at once so much suavity and spirit—such gentleness and forti­titude—his sufferings (those of his mind, as well as those of his body) were so exquisite, and he bore them with such meekness, tempered by such unin­terrupted good humour, and concealed and managed with so much delicacy, that I do not transgress the bounds of truth when I say I never met one who so entirely interested my feelings, and attached my [Page 301] friendship so unalterably, upon principles of in­stinctive impulse, as well as reason. Impelled by the irresistible claims he had upon my approbation and esteem, I entered with all the warmth of a brother into his sufferings, and can assert with truth that they constituted the severest trials I underwent during my whole imprisonment.

While we stood in the court, waiting to be brought before the Jemadar, we presented a specta­cle that would have wrung pity, one would think, from the heart of a tiger, if a tiger was endued with reflection. At length we were summoned to appear before him, and brought into his presence. I had made up my mind for the occasion—deter­mined to deport myself in a manly, candid man­ner—and to let no consideration whatsoever lead me to any thing disgraceful to my real character, or unworthy my situation in life; and, finally, had prepared myself to meet, without shrinking, what­ever misfortunes might yet be in store for me, or whatever cruelties the barbarous disposition or wicked policy of the Tyrant might think proper to inflict.

On entering, we found the Jemadar in full Dur­bar. ^* He was then occupied with the reading of dispatches, and in transacting other public business. We were placed directly opposite to him, where we stood for near an hour, during which time he never cast his eyes towards us: but when at last he had concluded the business, in which he was en­gaged, and deigned to look at us, we were ordered to prostrate ourselves before him: the Lascars im­mediately obeyed the order, and threw themselves on the ground; but I contented myself with mak­ing a salam, in which poor Mr. HALL, who knew not the Eastern manner as I did, followed my example.

[Page 302]As soon as this ceremony was over, the Jemadar (who was no other man than the famous HYAT SAHIB that has made some noise in the history of that war) began to question me. He desired to know, who I was?—what my profession was?— what was the cause and manner of my approaching the country of HYDER ALLI?—To all those ques­tions I gave answers that seemed to satisfy him. He then asked me, what news I had brought with me from Europe?—inquired into the state of the army, and number of recruits dispatched in the ships of that season—was minute and circumstantial in his questions respecting the nature and success of the war in Europe—and examined me closely, touching the resources of the East India Company. I saw his drift, and was cautious and circumspect in my answers, and at the same time contrived to speak with an air of candour that in some sort satis­fied him.

Having exhausted his whole string of questions, he turned the discourse to another subject—no less than his great and puissant Lord and Master, HY­DER, of whom he had endeavoured to impress me with a great, if not terrible idea—amplifying his power, his wealth, and the extent and opulence of his dominions—and describing to me, in the most exaggerated terms, the number of his [...] [...]his military talents—his vast, and, accor [...] to his account, unrivalled genius—his amazing abilities in conquering and governing Nations—and, above all, his many amiable qualities, and splendid en­dowments of heart, no less than understanding.

Having thus, with equal zeal and fidelity, en­deavoured to impress me with veneration for his Lord and Master, and for that purpose attributed to him every perfection that may be supposed to be divided among all the Kings and Generals that have lived since the birth of CHRIST, and given each their due, he turned to the English Government, [Page 303] and endeavoured to demonstrate to me the folly and inutility of our attempting to resist his progress, which he compared to that of the sea, to a tempest, to a torrent, to a lion's pace and fury—to every thing that an Eastern imagination could suggest as a figure proper to exemplify grandeur and irresisti­ble power. He then vaunted of his Sovereign's successes over the English, some of which I had not heard of before, and did not believe; and con­cluded by assuring me, that it was HYDER'S deter­mination to drive all Europeans from Indostan, which he averred he could not fail to do, consider­ing the weakness of the one, and boundless power of the other. This part of HYAT SAHIB'S dis­course is well worth your remembering, as it will serve to make a very diverting contrast with his subsequent conduct.

After having expended near half an hour in this manner, he called upon me to come over near him, and caused me to seat myself upon a mat with a pillow to lean upon—encouraged me, by every means he could, by the most gentle accents, and the most soothing, mollifying language, to speak to him without the least reserve—exhorted me to tell him the truth in every thing we spoke of—and hinted to me, that my falling into his hands might turn out the most fortunate event of my life.

I was at a loss to what motive to attribute all those singular marks of indulgence; but found that he had learned whose son I was, and knew my father by reputation from the prisoners, our Sepoys, who were now prisoners at large here: and as rank and office are the chief recommendation in the East, as well as elsewhere, or rather much more than any where else, the sagacious HYAT SAHIB found many claims to esteem and humanity in me as the son of a Colonel CAMPBELL, which he never would have found in me had I been the son of a plain humble farmer or tradesman in England.

[Page 304]After a full hour's audience, in which HYAT SAHIB treated me with distinguished marks of his favour, considering my situation, he dismissed me with the ceremony of beetle-nut, ^* rose-water, and other compliments, which are in that country held as the strongest marks of politeness, respect, and good-will.

Leaving the Durbar, I was led to the inner fort or citadel: and the officious zeal of those about me, unwilling to let me remain ignorant of that which they conceived to be a most fortunate turn in my affairs, gave the coup de grace to my miseries as I went along, by congratulating me on the favourable opinion which the Jemadar had formed of me, and intimating at the same time that I would soon be honoured with a respectible command in HYDER'S service.

If I was miserable before, this intimation entire­ly destroyed the last remnant of peace or hope. I was determined to die a thousand deaths sooner than serve any State hostile to Great Britain—but still more a Tyrant, whose country, nature and princi­ples I de [...]ested, and could never think of without the greatest horror; and I judged, that if such an offer should be made, and I refused it; my life would fall a sacrifice to their rage and disappoint­ment, or at least I should live a life of imprison­ment, and never more behold country, family, friends, connections, or any thing that I valued in l [...]e.

That night the Jemadar sent me an excellent sup­per, of not less than six dishes, from his own table; and although I had been so long famishing with the want of wholesome food, the idea of being [...] in the service of HYDER struck me [...], that I lost all appetite, and [...] to eat a mouthful. Mr. HALL and [...], [Page 305] were seperated from the Lascars, Who were released and forced to work.

Notwithstanding the favourable intentions mani­fested towards me by the Jemader, as I have alrea­dy mentioned, no mark of it whatsoever appeared in our lodging. This consisted of a small place, exactly the size of our length and breadth, in the zig-zag of one of the gates of the citadel: it was open in front, but covered with a kind of a shed on the top; and a number of other prisoners were about us: each of us was allowed a mat and pillow, and this formed the whole of our local accommoda­tions. Upon my remarking it, we were told, that in conformity to the custom of the Circar, ^* we must be treated so for some time, but that our ac­commodations would afterwards be extended, and made more agreeable to our wishes: even this was better than our situation since we landed.

In addition to this luxury, we were allowed to the value of four pence halfpenny a day for our maintenance; and a guard of Sepoys was put over us and a few more prisoners, one of whom was di­rected to go and purchase our victuals, and do such offices for us.

This guard was changed every week—a strong mark of the suspicious and wary tempers of those people, who could fear intrigues and cabals between wretched prisoners like us and their soldiers.

In two or three days after this, HYAT SAHIB sent for me, treated me with great kindness, gave me some tea, and furnished me with two or three shirts, an old coat, and two pairs of breeches, which were stripped from the dead bodies that were thrown ashore from the wreck—every thing that was saved from it being sent to Biddanore. At this interview [...]he treated me with great respect— gave me, besides the articles already mentioned, [Page 306] thirty rupees—and, upon my going away, told me that in a few days a very flattering proposal would be made to me, and that my situation would be ren­dered not only comfortable, but enviable.

It is impossible for me to express to you, my dear FREDERICK! the horror I felt at the idea of this intended proposal—for I knew but too well what it meant. It was the source of bitter misery to my mind: nevertheless, I determined to resist every effort that should be made, whether blandishment, intreaty, or menace—to lay down my life itself, though in obscurity, with honour—and to carry along with me, go where I would, the conscious­ness of having done my duty.

I have in the course of my life met with many people, who, under the plausible pretext of libe­rality and greatness of mind, have called themselves citizens of the world, and declared that the coun­try where they lived, be that what country it might, was their's, and demanded their allegiance and pro­tection: but I have always shrewdly suspected, that such men act from a consciousness of being outcasts of their own country—and, scorned and rejected by their fellow-citizens, would retaliate by affecting to deny their natural attachment. There are men who neitheir love father, mother, sister, brother, or connection: such, however, are, thank GOD! very thinly sown in this world; but, except it be a few such unnatural people, I am convinced that there is no one whose heart does not confess the patriotic passion, and burn with a flame, more or less ardent, of love for his country. My predi­lectious that way are naturally strong, and I am now happy to reflect that I evinced them by the most unequivocal proofs: had I not, I were in­deed, in my own opinion, fit for any punishment, however ignominious: and to all such as lift their arms against their country, as to Parricides, I will say, in the words of the poet,

LETTER L.

ON the evening of that day on which the Jemadar HYAT SAHIB had honoured me with an audience, given me clothes and money, and informed me that a proposal, which he called flat­tering, would be made to me, I was sent for to attend, not at the Durbar, but at the house of a man high in office. As I expected to meet HYAT SAHIB himself, and trembled at the thoughts of his expected proposition, I was surprised, and in­deed pleased, to find that it was with one of his people only I was to have a conference. This man, whose name I now forget, received me with great kindness, encouraged me, made me sit down with him, and began to speak of HYAT SAHIB, whom he extolled to the skies, as a person endowed with every great and amiable quality; informing me at the same time, that he was possessed of the friend­ship and confidence of his master, HYDER ALLI, in a greater degree than any other person—TIPPOO SAHIB, his own son, not excepted: he then gave me the private history of HYAT—saying, that he was born a Gentoo prince, of one of the provin­ces of the Malabar coast, which had fallen beneath the irresistible arms of HYDER, and had been by him annexed to the vast Mysorean Empire. HY­AT, he said, was then only a boy of eleven or twelve years of age, of a most promising genius, and a quickness of mind unusually met with in [Page 308] one of those tender years. HYDER, who was in all respects a man of unrivalled penetration, thought he saw in the boy that which, if properly culti­vated, would turn out of vast use to a state; and as, in all Mahomedan governments, unconnected, isolated boys, oft-times slaves, are bred up in the seraglio to succeed to the great offices of the state, HYDER adopted the boy, had him made a Mahome­dan, and, in fact, treated him as if he had been the issue of his own loins, and brought him up with all the affection and tenderness of a fond parent. I am the more particular in stating this part of HYAT'S history to you, as some respectable historians, de­ceived by erroneous report, have said that he was the illegitimate offspring of HYDER. The sultan, however, was not disappointed in the expectations he had formed; for HYAT SAHIB had, in zeal, fi­delity and attachment, as well as in intellectual facul­ties and talents for governing, even surpassed the warmest hopes of his master.

Having given me this concise account of the Jemadar, he proceeded to inform me, that the Arcot Sepoys, whom I have before mentioned to you, had discovered to HYAT SAHIB who I was, given him a full account of my family, and inform­ed him that I had commanded a regiment of cavalry in the service of the Nabob of Arcot, together with a corps of infantry and artillery attached to it. In consequence of this report, HYAT SAHIB, he said, had interested himself very warmly in my favour, and ex [...]pessed an anxious desire to render me a service.

Thus far the discourse pleased me. Nothing was said in it to give me alarm; on the contrary. I in­dulged a hope, that, knowing my rank, and the rank of my father, he would no longer entertain a hope of my entering into the service of HYDER, and fo [...] the time I was to be imprisoned, treat me with i [...]ble indulgence. But I flattered myself too soon; or, as the old saying is, "reckoned with­out my host."

[Page 309]When he had finished his history of HYAT SA­HIB, which he overcharged with fulsome panegyric, he told me, with a face full of that triumphant im­portance which one who thinks he is conferring a great favour generally assumes, that it was the inten­tion of HYAT SAHIB, for and on behalf of his mas­ter the Sultan, to give me the command of five thousand men—an offer which he supposed I could not think of declining, and therefore expected no other answer but a profusion of thanks, and strong manifestations of joy on my part.

It is not possible for me to describe to you my dismay at this formal proposal, or pourtray to you the various emotions that took possession of my breast. Resentment had its share—the pride of the soldier, not unaccompanied with the pride of fami­ly and rank, while it urged me to spurn from me such a base accommodation, made me consider the offer as a great insult. I therefore paused a little, to suppress my feelings; and then told him my firm resolution, never to accept of such a proposal; and upon his expressing great astonishment of my de­clining a station so fraught with advantage, I laid down, in the best manner I could, my reasons; and I must say, that he listened to all the objections I started with great patience; but, in the conclu­sion, said he had little doubt of finding means to overcome my reluctance.

He dismissed me for the present, and I returned to my prison, where I related to my companion, Mr. HALL, every thing that passed between us: we canvassed the matter fully, and he agreed with me, that it was likely to turn out a most dreadful and cruel persecution. It was on this occasion that I first felt the truth of the principle, that persecu­tion never fails to be subversive of its own end, and to promote that which it is intended to destroy. There is, in the human mind, an innite abhorrence of compulsion; and persecution always gives new [Page 310] strength and elasticity to the soul: and at last, when strained to its utmost extent, makes man surmount difficulties which at first seem to be beyond the reach of humanity.

Piqued by the idea of persecution, I began to feel a degree of enthusiasm which I was before a stranger to: I looked forward, with a kind of gloomy pleasure, to the miseries that brutal tyranny might inflict upon me, even to death itself; and already began to indulge the exultation of martyr­dom "No," said I, "my dear HALL! never will I tarnish the character of a British soldier—never will I disgrace my blood or my profession—never shall an act of mine fully the pure fame of my re­vered father—never shall any sufferings of mine, however poignant, or worldly advantage, however seductive, tempt me to do that which his noble spirit would regard with horror or contempt. I may, and I foresee I must be miserable; but I never will be base or degenerate!" Indeed, I had wrought myself up to such a pitch of firmness, that I am persuaded the most exquisite and refined cruelties which the ingenuity of an Iroquois Indian could have inflicted on my body, would have been utterly incapable of bending the stubborn temper of my mind.

The place in which we were lodged was situated in a way not very favourable to our feelings. Just within sight of it, the commandant of the citadel held a court—by him yclep'd a court of justice— where the most shocking, barbarious cruelties were hourly exercised—most of them for the purpose of extorting money, and compelling the discovery of hidden, or [...]pposi [...]ious hidden treasures. Indeed, five sixths of those who suffered were of this des­cription; and the process persued was as artful as barbarious: they first began with caresses, then proceeded to examination and cross-examination, thence to threats, thence to punishment, and final­ly, to the most cruel tortures.

[Page 311]Directly opposite to us, was imprisoned an un­fortunate person, who had for years been a close captive, and the sport and subject of those enormi­ties. He was a man once of the highest rank in the country where now he was a prisoner: for a series of years he had been govenor and sole mana­ger of the whole province of Biddanore. This was during the reign of the last Rana, or Queen, whose family had been sovereigns of the country for time immemorial, till HYDER made a conquest of, and annexed it to his other usurpations. Unfortunately for him, he was supposed to have amassed and se­creted enormous treasures, in consequence of which he had already undergone the fiery ordeal of tor­ture several times. He was supposed to have pro­duced, from first to last, about fifteen lacks of pa­go [...] and then, in the course of eighteen months, [...] [...]aded gradually, from the high respect in [...] at first held, down to a most abject [...] fl [...]gged, punished in a variety of [...] to the must cruel tortures, [...] with the highest [...]gree of respect, and afterw [...] [...] [...]ght to the lo [...] stage of, misery and he must [...]. One thing, however, I must not forget, as the fortitude with [...] and all of them bore their punishment: it was [...] heroic—indeed, beyond al [...] be [...]ief. Nothing could surpass it, except the skill and inventive ing [...]nuity which the barbarians exhibited in striking out new modes of torture. My soul sickened with horror at the sight: the amiable HALL could worse sup­port it than his own miseries, and lost all that for­titude, in his feeling for others' misfortunes, which he displayed in so unbounded a share in his own: and often, very often, we found the rigour and severity of our own situation utterly forgotten in our anguish and sympathy for the sufferings of others. Never shall I forget it: never shall I think without horror of the accursed policy and wicked [Page 312] tyranny of the Eastern governments, where every sense of humanity is extinguished, and man, more merciless than the tyger, riots in the blood of his fellow-creatures without cause.

Mr. HALL, notwithstanding the various sufferings both of mind and body which he had undergone, began to recruit, and get a little better; and this circumstance, of itself, diffused a flow of spirits over me that contributed to my support. We con­soled each other by every means we could devise— sometimes indulging in all the luxury of woe— sometimes rallying each other, and, with ill-dissem­bled sprightliness, calling on the goddess EUPHRO­SYNE to come with her "quirps and cranks, and wreathed smiles:" but, alas! the mountain nymph, sweet LIBERTY, was far away, and the goddess shunned our abode. We however began to con­ceive that we might form a system for our relief, and by a methodical arrangement, entrench our­selves from the assaults of grief: to this end, we formed several resolutions, and entered into certain engagements—such as, never to repine at our fate, if we could—to draw consolation from the more dreadful lot of others, if we could;—and to encou­rage hope—hope that comes to all; and, on the whole, to confine our conversation as much as possi­ble to subjects of an agreeable nature: but these, like many other rules which we lay down for the conduct of life, were often broken by necessity, and left us to regret the fallibility of all human pre­cautionary systems.

The youth and strength of Mr. HALL was to the full as adequate as mine to the support of any per­sonal hardship: his intellectual powers were excel­lent, his temper incomparable, and his fortitude unparalleled; yet could I see, that something more than appeared upon the surface wrought within him, and gnawed his heart with hidden pain. Uni­ted as we were by sentiment, as well as by parity [Page 313] of suffering, I felt for him too deeply, not to have an interesting curiosity to know what it was that preyed upon his mind: we had been, months to­gether, fellow-sufferers; and I thought myself not without some claim to his confidence—I told him so, and desired him to impart to me his story; which he, with his accustomed suavity and conde­scension, agreed to—assuring me that it was not such a story as could requite the trouble of hearing it, or interest any one but himself, or some very warm friend indeed: such, however, he added, he took me to be; and, as such, would tell it to me. I think it, however, worth relating, and will give it to you in his own words; and, though it be very short, must defer the relation to another letter.

LETTER LI.

MR. HALL having, as I told you in my last, obligingly agreed to favour me with a rela­tion of his story, I now give it to you as nearly in his own words as I can remember them. He proceeded thus:

"Although you are now, my dear friend! a witness to my being the most perfectly wretched of all created beings, yet the time is not long past when fortune smiled upon and gave me promise of as much happiness as Man in this wretched vale of tears is allowed by his circumscribed nature to hope for. I have seen the time, when each revolving sun rose to usher me to a day of joy, and set to consign me to a night of undisturbed repose—when the bounties of Nature, and the productions of Art, were poured with the profusion of fond pater­nal [Page 314] affection into my lap—when troops of friends hailed my rising prospects—when health and peace made this person their uninterrupted abode—and when the most benignant love that ever blessed a mortal filled up the measure of my bliss. Yes, CAMPBELL! it was once my happiness, though now, alas! the source of poignant misery, to be blessed with the best parents that ever watched over the welfare of a child—with friends, too, who loved me, and whom my heart cherished— and—O God! do I think of her, and yet retain my senses—with the affections of a young lady, than whom providence, in the fullness of its power and bounty to mankind, never formed one more lovely, one more angelic in person, more heavenly in disposition, more rich in intellectual endowments. Alas! my friend, will you, can you pardon those warm ebullitions of a fond passion? will you for a moment enter into my feelings, and make allowance for those transports? But how can you? Your friendship and pity may indeed induce you to excuse this interruption; but, to sympathise truly, and feel as I feel, you must have known the charming girl herself.

"My father, though he did not move in the very first walk of life, held the rank of a Gentle­man by birth and education, and was respectable, not only as a man of considerable property, but as a person who knew how to turn the gifts of for­tune to their best account: he was generous with­out prodigality, and charitable without ostentation: he was allowed by all who knew him to be the most tender of husbands—the most zealous and sincere of friends; and I can bear witness to his being the best of parents. As long as I can remember to have been able to make a remark, the tenderness of both my father and mother knew no bounds: I seemed to occupy all their thoughts, all their atten­tion; and in a few years, as I thank God I never [Page 315] made un unsuitable return for their affection, it in­creased to such a degree, that their existence seemed to hang upon mine.

"To make so much of a child so beloved as his natural talents would allow, no expence was spared in my education: from childhood, every instruc­tion that money could purchase, and every allure­ment to learn, that fondness could suggest, were bestowed upon me: while my beloved father trac­ing the advances I made with the magnifying eye of affection, would hang over me in rapture, and en­joy by anticipation the fame and honours that, overweening fondness suggested to him, must one day surround me. These prejudices, my dear friend! arising from the excess of natural affection, are ex­cuseable, if not amiable, and deserve a better fate than disappointment. Alas! my honoured father, you little knew—and, oh! may you never know, what sort of fame, what sort of honours, await your child! May the anguish he endures, and his most calamitious fate, never reach your ears!—for, too well I know, 'twould give a deadly wrench to your heart, and precipitate you untimely to your grave.

"Thus years rolled on; during which, time seemed to have added new wings to his flight, so quickly did they pass. Unmarked by any of those sinister events that parcel out the time in weary stages to the unfortunate, it slid on unperceived; and an enlargement in my size, and an increase of knowledge, were all I had to inform me that eigh­teen years had passed away.

It was at this time that I first found the smooth current of my tranquility interrupted, and the tide of my feelings swelled and agitated, by the accession of new streams of sensation—In short I became a slave to the delicious pains of Love; and, after having borne them in concealment for a long time, at length collected courage to declare it. Frankness [Page 316] and candour were among the virtues of my belov­ed: she listened to the protestations of affection, and rising above the little arts of her sex, avowed a reciprocal attachment. The measure of my bliss seemed now to be full; the purity of my passion was such, that the thoughts of the grosser animal desires never once occured; and happy in loving, and being beloved, we passed our time in all the in­nocent blandishments which truly virtuous love in­spires, without our imagination roaming even for an instant into the wilds of sensuality.

"As I was to inherit a genteel, independent fortune, my father proposed to breed me up to a learned profession—the Law; rather to invigorate and exercise my intellects, and as a step to rank in the state, than for more lucrative purposes. I was put to one of the universities, with an allowance suited to his intentions towards me; and was im­mediately to have been sent to travel for my fu [...]ther improvement, when an unforeseen accident hap­pened, which immediately crushed all my fathers views, dashed the cup of happiness from my lips, and brought me ultimately to that deplorable state in which you have now the misfortune to be join­ed along with me.

"It was but a few months antecedent to my embarking for the eastern world, that my father, whom I had far some time with sorrow observed thoughtful, studious and melancholy, took me into his study, and, seizing my hand, and looking ear­nestly into my face, while his countenance betrayed the violent agitation of his mind, asked me empha­tically, if I thought I had fortitude to bear the greatest possible calamity? I was horror-struck at his emotion, accompanied by such a question— but replied, I hoped I had. He then asked me if I had affection enough for him to forgive him if he was the cause of it? I answered, that the idea connected with the word forgiveness, was that [Page 317] which I could never be brought by any earthly circumstance to apply to my father; but begged him at once to disclose the worst to me—as, be it what it might, my misery could not surpass what I then felt from the mysterious manner in which he then spoke.

"He then told me that he was an undone man— that he had, with the very best intentions, and with the view of aggrandizing me, engaged in great and important speculations, which, had they suc­ceeded, would have given us a princely fortune— but, having turned out, unfortunately, the reverse, had left him little above beggary. He added, that he had not the resolution to communicate his losses to me, until necessity compelled him to tell me all the truth.

"Although this was a severe shock to me, I en­deavoured to conceal my feelings from my father, on whole account, more than on my own, I was af­fected, and pretended to make as light of it as so very important a misfortune would justify; and I had the happiness to perceive that the worthy man took some comfort from my supposed indifference. I conjured him not to let so very trivial a thing as the loss of property, which could be repaired, break in on his peace of mind or health, which could not; and observed to him, that we had all of us still enough—for that my private property (which I possessed independent of him, and which a relation left me) would amply supply all our ne­cessities.

"Having thus endeavoured to accommodate my unhappy father's feelings to his losses, I had yet to accommodate my own; and began to revolve in my mind what was likely to ensue from, and what step was most proper to be taken, in this dreadful change of circumstances. That which lay nearest my heart first occurred;—you will readily guess that I mean my love; to involve her I lov [...] [...], [Page 318] far more, than my life, in the misfortunes of my family, was too horrible a consideration to be out­weighed even by the dread of losing her. I knew not what to do, and I thought upon it till I became almost enfrenzied—In this state I went to her, and unfolded the whole state of our concerns, together with my resolution not to involve her in our ruin; —when—can you believe it?—the lovely girl in­sisted on making my fate indissolubly her's—not, as she said, that she had the smallest apprehension lapse of time or change of circumstance could make an alteration in our affection, but that she wished to give my mind that repose which I might derive from security. This I would by no means accede to; and, for the present, we contented ourselves with mutual vows of eternal fidelity.

"As soon as I thought my father's mind fit for such a conversation, I opened to him a plan I had formed of coming to India, to advance my fortune. His understanding approved of it, but his heart dissented; and he said, that to part with me would give the finishing stroke to his misfortunes; but, as my interest was tolerably good, I represented to him the great likelihood I had of success; and at last, with some difficulty, he consented.

"My next step was to acquaint Miss — with my resolution. I purposely pass over a meet­ing which no power of language can describe! — then how can I?—Oh! CAMPBELL, the remem­brance of it gnaws me like a vulture here," (and he put his hand upon his heart, while the tears rol­led down his cheeks), "and will soon, soon bring me to my end.

"Not to detain you with vain efforts to describe all our feelings, I will confine myself to telling you that after having made every necessary preparation, and divided with my much honoured parents the little property I possessed, I set sail for India, in a state of mind compared with which the horrors of [Page 319] annihilation would have been enviable: the choas in my thoughts made me insensible to every object but one; and I brooded with a sort of stupid, gloomy indulgence, over the portrait of Miss —, which hung round my neck, and was my insepera­ble companion, till the people who seized me as I came ashore plundered me of it, and thereby depri­ved me of the last refuge for comfort I had left. Oh! monsters! barbarians! had you glutted your savage fury by dissevering my limbs, one after ano­ther, from my body, it would have been mercy, compared with depriving me of that little image of her I love! But it is all over, and I shall soon sink into the grave, and never more be blessed with the view of those heavenly features, till we meet in that region where all tears are wiped away, and where, I trust, we shall be joined together for endless ages, in eternal, never-fading bliss!"

LETTER LII.

ON the day succeeding that on which the agent of HYAT SAHIB had held the discourse with me, mentioned in my last letter but one, I was again sent for, and brought to the same person, who asked me, whether I had duly considered of the important offer made me by HYAT SAHIB, and of the consequences likely to result from a refusal? and he apprised me at the same time, that the command of five thousand men was an honour which the first Rajahs in the Mysorean dominions would grasp at with transport. I told him I was well convinced of the honour such a command would confer on any man but an Englishman, whose country being the object of HYDER'S inces­sant [Page 320] hostility, would make the acceptance of it in­famy—that although I knew there were but too many Englishmen apostates to their country, I hoped there were but few to be found in India willing to accept of any emoluments, however great, or any temptations, however specious, to fly from the standard of their country, and rally round that of its bitterest enemy—that, for my own part, being of a name ever foremost in the ranks of loyalty and patriotism, and of a family that had hitherto detracted nothing from the ho­nours of that name, such an act of apostacy would be peculiarly infamous in me, and I could view it in no better light than traitorous and parricidal— that, independent of all those claims, which were of themselves sufficient to deter me, I felt within myself a principle, perhaps innate, perhaps inspi­red by military habit, that forbade my acceding— and, finally, appealed to the good sense of HYAT SAHIB, whether a man who in such circumstances had betrayed his country, and sacrificed her inter­ests to his own convenience, was such a person as confidence could properly be put in.

Notwithstanding these, and a thousand other re­monstrances, which I cannot immediately recollect, but which the hazards of my situation suggested, he still continued to press me, and used every argu­ment, every persuasion, that ingenuity could dic­tate, or hints of punishment enforce, to shake my purpose—but in vain: attachment to country and family rose paramount to all other considerations; and I gave a peremptory, decisive refusal.

Circumstanced as I was, it was impossible for me to keep an accurate journal of the various incidents that p [...]ed, or vicissitudes of thought that occur­red, [...]uring the period of my imprisonment. In­deed, I was scarcely conscious of the length of my captivity, and could not, till I was released, determine exactly how long it had continued. You [Page 321] must therefore content yourself to be told in gene­ral terms, that I was repeatedly urged on the sub­ject by fair persuasives: they then had recourse to menace; then they withheld the daily pittance al­lowed for my support; and at length proceeded to coercion, tying a rope round my neck, and hoist­ing me up to a tree. All this, however, I bore firmly: if it had any effect, it was to confirm me in my resolution, and call in policy to the aid of honour's dictates. Every man of feeling or rea­son must allow, that it was better to die, than live a life of subjection to tyranny so truly diabo­lical.

Mr. HALL and I, thus drove to the brink of ex­tinction, yet consoled ourselves with the reflection, that those whom most we loved were not sharing our unhappy fate, and were fortunately ignorant of our sufferings; and as I enjoyed perfect good health, hope yet lived within me.

There is a spring, an elasticity, in every man's mind, of which the owner is rarely, very rarely conscious, because fortunately the occasions seldom occur in which it can be brought to the proof, for, as lassitude is the necessary forerunner of refresh­ment, so is extreme dejection to the most vigorous exereise of our fortitude. So I found it: as the horrors of my situation thickened round me, I felt my spirits increase; my resolution became more firm, my hopes more sanguine—I even began to look forward, and form projects for the future: whole hours amusement, every day and every night, arose from the contemplation of my beloved boy; I in imagination traced his growth, directed his rising sentiments, formed plans for his future suc­cess and prosperity, and indulged by anticipation in all the enjoyment which I now trust I shall yet have in his ripened manhood.

Thus we continued for many months, during which no alteration whatsoever took place in our [Page 322] treatment or situation. We heard a thousand con­tradictory reports of victories gained over the Eng­lish, and again of some successes on their part: they, however, desisted to press me into then ser­vice. The only relief from our sufferings lay in the resources of our own minds, and in our mutual en­devours to please and console one another: the cir­cumstances of aggravation were the necessity of dai­ly bearing witness to the most barbarous punishments he inflicted upon wretched individuals under the semblance of justice, and the occasional depriva­tion of our food, either by the fraud of the sepoys who attended us, or the caprice or cruelty of their superiors. It is but justice, however, to say, that they were not all alike: some overflowed with mer­cy, charity, and the milk of human kindness; while others, again, were almost as bad men as the sovereigns they served. We were not allowed the use of pen, ink, or paper; and very seldom could afford ourselves the luxury of shaving, or clean lin­en: nor were we at all sheltered from the incle­mency of the weather, till at length a little room was built for us of mud, which being small and damp, rendered our situation worse than it was before.

The prisoner whom I have already mentioned, as having, in the time of the former sovereign, held the first office in Bidanore, still continued op­posite to me; and he and I at length began to un­derstand each other, and found means, by looks, signs and gestures, to exchange thoughts, and hold an intercourse of sentiments together. From the circumstance of his being a native, and better skil­led in the language than me, he had much better intelligence than I could possibly have, and he was always eager to convey to me any circumstance or news that he thought might be agreeable: some messages also passed between us, by means of the sepoys who had alternately been his guard and mine —for our guards were changed every week.

[Page 323]Projects and hopes of a new kind now began to intrude themselves on my thoughts; and I con­ceived a design, which I flattered myself was not entirely impracticable to effect an escape, and even a revolt in the place. A variety of circumstances concurred to persuade me, that the tyranny of HY­DER, and his servant HYAT SAHIB, was abhorred, though none dared to give vent to their sentiments. I thought I could observe, that the native prisoner opposite to me was privately beloved, and might, from the recollection of his former dignities, have considerable influence in the place. Several Arcot sepoys and their officers (some of them belonging to my own regiment) were also prisoners at large; and withal I recollected, that difficulties apparent­ly more stupendous had been overcome by English­men—having often heard it asserted, that there was not a prison in the known world out of which a British subject had not made his escape.

Fraught with those conceptions, I attempted to sound the officers of the Arcot Sepoys, whether it were not possible for us to effect our escape? So ardent is the flame of liberty in all men's breasts, so great is the detestation of human nature to slavery, that I perceived a manifest willingness in the peo­ple about us to join me in an attempt to procure our liberty, or bring about a revolt in the garrison. My heart beat high with the hope; and I began to flatter myself, that, the day was not far removed when we should not only bid defiance to our ty­rants, but even make them repent the day on which we were cast ashore on their coast.

Having thus distantly sounded all who I thought were likely to concur, upon the practicability of the attempt, and found them, as I conceived, dis­posed to take share in it, it yet remained to con­sider of the quomodo—and, after having formed the general outlines of a plan, to lick it into shape. The first of these was a critical consideration: the [Page 324] second required address and management, and was likely to be impeded by the vigilance of the peo­ple about, who would not fail to remark, and take the alarm, from any unusual intercourse or discourse between us; and without a mutual communication of thoughts, and full deliberation by all parties con­cerned, as well as knowledge of the fort and its different gates, nothing could, with any prospect of success, be determined—nothing, without the most imminent hazard, be attempted. I therefore held various councils with my own mind, and with Mr. HALL, on the subject—most of which were abor­tive, without at all discouraging us.

At last I began to think of sounding the Bida­nore prisoner, ci-devant governor of the place; and determined, if possible, to bring him into our con­sultations, as I had before hoped to make him a party in the execution of the project: but while I was settling all this much to my own satisfaction, an event occured which extinguished all my hopes in that way—of which you shall have an account in my next letter.

LETTER LIII.

WHETHER the plan which I men­tioned in my last was discovered or not, or from what other motive it arose, I have not to this day been able to decide; but so it was, that while my sanguine mind was overflowing with the hope of carrying my project for an escape into effect, Mr. HALL and I were one day unexpectedly loaded with irons, and fastened together, leg by leg, by one bolt. This, as nearly as I can compute, was four or five mouths before my release. Of all the [Page 325] circumstances of my life, it has made the strongest impression upon my mind: it unexpectedly and suddenly broke down the most pleasing fabric my imagination had ever built. The surprise occasion­ed by the appearance of the irons, and the precau­tionary manner in which it was undertaken, was indeed great: still more was I surprised to observe, that the person who was employed to see this put in execution, manifested unusual emotions, seemed much affected, and even shed tears as he looked on: and while the suddenness and cautionary mode of doing it convinced me that some resistance on our part was apprehended, the sorrow which the offi­cer who superintended it disclosed, portended in my mind a fatal, or at least a very serious issue.

Unfortunately, poor Mr. HALL had for some time been afflicted with a return of his dreadful dis­order, the dysentery; and our being shackled to­gether increased an unconquerable mortification of feelings which we had before undergone, from a delicacy of nature that would have done honour to the most modest virgin, be her sensibility ever so exquisite, or her delicacy ever so extreme—And here, my dear FREDERICK! I cannot let slip this opportunity of remarking to you, that the man, as well as the woman, who would render himself tru­ly amiable in the eyes of his fellow-creatures, should cultivate delicacy and modesty, as the most captivating of all the moral virtues: from them, heroism derives additional lustre—wit, ten-fold force—religion and morality, the charms of persua­sion—and every personal action of the man, irre­sistible dignity and winning grace. From this un­lucky event, I received a temporary depression; and the rapidly increasing illness of poor HALL rendered my situation more than ever calamitous; when, again, my spirits, eagerly prone to grasp at every thing that gave a momentary hope of support, were a little recruited by confused rumours of the [Page 326] English army having made a descent on the Mala­bar coast: and so powerful is the influence of mind on the animal system, that Mr. HALL enjoyed from the report a momentary alleviation of his malady; but, having no medical assistance, nor even suffici­ent sustenance to further the favourable operations of nature, he relapsed again; the disease fell upon him with redoubled fury: a very scanty portion of boiled rice, with a more scanty morsel of stinking salt fish or putrid flesh, was a very inadequate sup­port for me, who, though emaciated, was in health —and very improper medicine for a person labour­ing under a malady such as Mr. HALL'S, which re­quired comfort, good medical skill, and delicate nutritious food. The tea which HYAT SAHIB had given me was expended; and we were not allow­ed to be shaved from the hour we were put in irons, an indulgence of that kind being forbidden by the barbarous rules of the prison: and, to refine upon our tortures sleep, "the balm of hurt minds," was not allowed us uninterrupted; for, in confor­mity to another regulation, we were disturbed every half hour by a noise something resembling a watch­man's rattle, and a fellow who, striking every part of our irons with a kind of hammer, and examin­ing them lest they should be cut, broke in upon that kind restorative, and awoke our souls to fresh horrors.

As it must be much more naturally matter of astonishment that any bodily strength could support itself under such complicated calamities, than that infirmity should sink beneath them, you will be ra­ther grieved than surprised to hear that poor Mr. HALL was now app [...]oaching to his end with ho [...]ly accelerated steps. Every application that I made in his favour was refused, or rather treated with cruel neglect and contemptuous silence; and I foresaw, with inexpressible anguish and indigna­tion, that the barbarians would not abate him in his [Page 327] last minutes one jot of misery, and that my most amiable friend was fated to expire under every at­tendant horror that mere sublunary circumstances could create. But that pity which the mighty, the powerful and enlightened denied, natural be­nevolence operating upon an uninformed mind, and scanty means, afforded us. HYAT SAHIB, the powerful, the wealthy, the governor of a great opulent province, refused to an expiring fellow-creature a little cheap relief—while a poor sepoy taxed his little means to supply it: one who guard­ed us, of his own accord, at hazard of imminent punishment, purched us a lamp and a little oil, which we burned for the last few nights.

Philosophers and divines have declaimed upon the advantages of a well-spent life, as felt in arti­culo mortis; and their efforts have had, I hope, some effect upon the lives of many. To witness one example such as Mr. HALL held forth, would be worth volumes of precepts on this subject. The unfeigned resignation with which he met his disso­lution, and the majestic fortitude with which he looked in the face the various circumstances of horror that surrounded him, rendered him the most dignified object I ever beheld or conceived, and the most glorious instance of conscious virtue tri­umphing over the terrors of death, and the cun­ning barbarity of mankind. Were the progress of virtue attended with pain, and the practice of vice with pleasure, the adoption of the former would be amply repaid by its soothings in the dreadful moment, even if it were to accompany us no fur­ther. About a quarter of an hour before he died, Mr. HALL broached a most tender subject of con­versation, which he followed up with a series of observations, so truly refined, so exquisitely turned, so delicate and so pathetic, that it seemed almost the language of inspiration, as if, in proportion to the decay of the body, intellect increased, and the [Page 328] dying man had become all mind. Such a conver­sation I never remembered to have heard, or heard of. Its effects upon me were wonderful; for, though the combination of melancholy circumstan­ces attending my now critical situation had almost raised my mind to frenzy, the salutary influence of his words and example controuled the excesses of my sensations; and I met the afflicting moment of his departure with a degree of tranquility, which, though not to be compared to his, has on reflec­tion appeared to me astonishing. This conversa­tion continued to the very instant of his death; during which time he held my hand clasped in his, frequently enforcing his kind expressions to me with a squeeze—while my sorrow, taking its most easy channel, bedewed my face with tears. As he proceeded, my voice was choaked with my feel­ings; and I attempted once or twice in vain to spe [...]k. H [...]s hand grew cold: he said his lower [...] were all lifeless, and that he felt death com­ing ov [...]r him with slow creeping steps—He again moralized, thanking GOD with pathetic fervour for his great mercy in leavi [...]g him his intellects un­clouded, and the organ of communication (the tongue) unenfeebled, that, to the last, he might solace his friend and fellow-sufferer—"Ah! CAMP­BELL!" continued he, "to what a series of mise­ries am I now leaving you! death in such circum­stances is a blessing—I view mine as such; and should think it more so, if it contributed, by awak­ening those people to a sense of their cruelty, to soften their rigour to you: but cruelty like their's is systematic, and stoops not to the controul of the feelings. Could I hope that you would yet escape from their clutches, and that you would once more press your family to your bosom, the thought would brighten still the moment of our separation: and, oh! my friend! could I still further hope that you would one day see my most beloved and honoured [Page 329] parents, and tell them of my death without wring­ing their hearts with its horrid circumstances, offer them my last duties, and tell how I revered them— If, too, you could see my —, and tell her how far, far more dear than—!" Here he turned his eyes toward the lamp, then faintly on me—made a convulsive effort to squeeze my hand —cried out, "CAMPBELL! oh, CAMPBELL! the lamp is going out!" and expired without a groan.

The recital of this afflicting event has called up to my fancy so lively a picture of the scene as it passed with all its horrors—horrors which outstrip all efforts of description, and baffle all power of language—that my feelings are in part renewed, and I find myself incapable of proceeding further at present.

LETTER LIV.

FOR some time I was lost in grief for the death of Mr. HALL. Though I had long ex­pected it, and might consequently be supposed to have wasted great part of my sorrow in anticipa­tion; yet, having only considered and felt the point before his death merely as it respected him and his misfortunes, a great portion of the calamity yet remained unconceived: and, now that he was dead, I began for the first time to consider and feel the subject as it concerned myself. Reflection told me, that he was happily relieved from woe, and in a state of bliss—

[Page 330]But I still remained a prey to perhaps new bar­barities, without hope of relief from the old. No partner to share, no social converse to alleviate, no friend to console me under my afflictions, I looked at the body of my friend with envy, and lamented that death had not afforded me, too, a shelter from the cruelties which fate seemed determined to heap upon me.

It is impossible for me to express to you the ago­nies of mind I underwent during the rest of the night. In the morning a report was made to the commandant, of the death of Mr. HALL; and in about an hour after, he passed me by, but kept his face purposely turned away from me to the other side. I patiently waited for the removal of the dead body till the evening, when I desired the Se­poys who guarded me to apply for its being remov­ed. They returned, and told me that they could get no answer respecting it. Night came on, but there was no appearance of an intention to unfetter me from the corpse. The commandant was sitting in his court, administering, in the manner I have before described, justice! I called out to him myself with all my might, but could get no answer from him. Nothing could equal my rage and consterna­tion; for, exclusive of the painful idea of being shackled to the dead body of a friend I loved, an­other circumstance contributed to make it a serious subject of horror. In those ciimates the weather is so intensely hot, that putrefaction almost instantly succeeds death, and meat that is killed in the morn­ing, and kept in the shade, will be unfit for dres­sing at night. In a subject, then, on which pu­trefaction had made advances even before death, and which remained exposed to the open air, the process must have been much more rapid. So far, however, from compassionating my situation, or indulging me by a removal of the body, their barba­rity suggested to them to make it an instrument of [Page 331] punishment; and they pertinaciously adhered to the most mortifying silence and disregard of my complaints. For several days and nights it remain­ed attached to me by the irons. I grew almost dis­tracted—wished for the means of putting an end to my miseries by death, and could not move without witnessing some new stage of putrescence it attained, or breathe without inhaling the putrid effluvia that arose from it—while myriads of flies and loathsome insects rested on it, the former of which every now and then visited me, crawling over my face and hands, and lighting in hundreds on my victuals. I never look back at this crisis without confusion, horror, and even astonishment; and, were it not connected with a chain of events preceding and sub­sequent to it, too well known by respectable peo­ple to be doubted, and too much interwoven with a part of the history of the last war in India to ad­mit of a doubt, I should not only be afraid to tell, but absolutely doubt myself whether the whole was not the illusion of a dream, rather than credit the possibility of my enduring such unheard of hard­ships without loss of life or deprivation of senses.

At last, when the body had reached that shock­ing loathsome state of putrefaction which threaten­ed that further delay would render removal abomi­nable, if not impossible, the monsters agreed to take it away from me—and I was so far relieved: but the mortification and injury I underwent from it, joined to the agitation of the preceding week, made a visible inroad on my health. I totally lost my spirits; my appetite entirely forsook me: my long-nourished hopes fled; and I looked forward to death as the only desirable event that was within the verge of likelihood or possibility.

One day, my opposite friend (the native prisoner) gave me a look of the most interesting and encou­raging kind; and I perceived a more than usual bustle in the citadel, while the sepoys informed [Page 332] me that they were ordered on immediate service, and that some events of great importance had taken place. From this feeble gleam, my mind, natu­rally active, though depressed by circumstances of unusual weight, again took fire, and hope bright­ened with a kind of gloomy light the prospect be­fore me: I revolved a thousand things, and drew from them a thousand surmises; but all as yet was only conjecture with me. In a day or two, the bustle increased to a high pitch, accompanied with marks of consternation: the whole of the troops in the citadel were ordered to march; and the commandant, and a man with a hammar and instru­ments, came to take off my irons.

While they were at work taking off my irons, I perceived they were taking off those of the native prisoner opposite to me also. He went away under a guard: we looked at each other complacently, nodded and smiled, as who should say, "we hope to see one another in happier times not far distant." But, alas! vain are human hopes, and short and dark is the extent of our utmost foresight! This unhappy man, without committing any sort of of­fense to merit it, but in conformity to the damna­ble, barbarous pol [...]ly of those countries, was, by the Jemadar's orders, taken forth, and his throat cut! This the Jemadar himself afterwards acknow­ledged to me—and, what was still more abominable if possible, undertook to justify the proceeding upon the principles of reason, sound sense, and precedent of Asiatic policy.

In order to elucidate the whole of this business, it is necessary for me to recur to events which hap­pened antecedent to this time, but of which, by reason of my situation, I was then entirely igno­rant; and as they involve, not only the grounds of my subsequent escape and proceedings, but a considerable portion of historical fact, and some of the material interests of the East India Company, [Page 333] I will be the more particularly careful in relating them, and desire from you a proportionate share of attention—But their importance entitle them to a separate letter: therefore conclude with assuring you, &c. &c.

LETTER LV.

HYDER ALLI KHAWN, late Nabob of Mysore, and father to the present TIPPO SAHIB SULTAIN, was as extraordinary a man, and perhaps possessed as great natural talents, as any recorded in the page of history. Born and bred up in the low­est ranks of an unenlightened and ignorant people, and to the last day of his life perfectly illiterate, he not only emerged from his native obscurity by the vigor of his mind and body, but became an object of terror and admiration to surrounding potentates. Early initiated in the habits and inured to the toils of a military life, he rose, by the gradual steps of promotion, to a rank which afforded an opportunity of displaying his capacity and prowess: he soon obtained the command of that army in which he had once served as a common soldier, and immedi­ately demonstrated that the sublimity of his mind was formed to keep pace with his extraordinary elevation.

The Marhattas, the most formidable people in Hither India, bordered on the Mysorean domin­ions, and kept their neighbours, by frequent hos­tilities, in a continual state of awe—making incur­sions on their territories, and taking possession, by force of arms, of large portions of their country: but no sooner had HYDER got the command of the armies of his country, than he drove back the Mar­hattas [Page 334] from the Mysorean dominions, which he ex­tended by considerable acquisitions from the Mar­hatta frontiers; and followed up his conquests with such successful ardour, that he compelled that war­like nation to respect his countrymen as their equals, if not superiors, in military achievement. Thus, while he ingratiated himself with his sovereign and fellow-citizens by his wisdom, he acquired the ad­miration of the soldiery by his personal address and valour; and at the same time, by the severity of his decipline, and the occasional austerity of his deportmet, maintained an awe over them, which strengthened his authority with diminishing their affection.

HYDER was therefore now arrived at that point of elevation, beyond which no exertion of mental capacity, if governed by virtue or integrity, could raise him—So far he owed all to guenius: but his towering ambition looked higher; and, unrestrain­ed by any principle of religion or morality, he de­termined to accomplish, at any rate, that which he knew nothing but crime could accomplish. With wicked deliberation he looked forward into the womb of time, and with unparalleled policy arran­ged the whole system upon which he was to act, when that order of things his penetrating and in­tuitive genius enabled him to see would naturally arise from each other, should afford him a proper opportunity. Although he was utterly ignorant of books, and of course could derive little benefit from the examples of the great and ambitious men recorded in history, yet, drawing upon the infinite resources of his own mind for information, he adopted the very same means of furthering his views; and foreseeing, that, with an immense ar­my devoted to his interests, few things would be unattainable, he applied himself diligently to model and form that of the KING of MYSORE to the greatest perfection in discipline, and to render it [Page 335] attached to his person, and subservient to his views, by a skilful mixture of severity and relaxation, toil and reward, danger and applause, which none but a master-hand like his was capable of exactly com­pounding.

The death of his sovereign the KING of MY­SORE at length afforded him the opportunity to which he had so long, and with so prophetic an eye, looked forward—and gave him ample room for self gratulation on the score of his sagacity and prudence.

The heir in succession to the throne being then an infant, the politic HYDER, setting aside all claims of the kindred of the young prince, took upon himself the guardianship—under the title of Regent assumed the supreme authority—and, though too well aware of the inviolable attachment of the people to their lawful monarch to put him directly to death, usurped the throne, and consigned him to imprisonment in Seringapatam, the capital of the Mysorean dominions.

Having thus, by his talents, acquired the posses­sion of the throne, he gave a large range to the sub­limity of his views, and soon displayed the exhaust­less resources of his mind in the new office of Go­vernor and Legislator—forming such vast well-or­dered military establishments, and such judicious and salutary civil institutions, as made him blaze forth at once the terror of his neighbours, and ren­dered him, in the sequel, the most powerful and formidable potentate in the Hither Peninsula. In carrying on those, his deficiency in letters was sup­plied by his vigilance and sagacity, sharpened by suspicion: three secretaries executed all his orders in separate apartments: and if, on comparison, they were found to differ, he who committed the error received sentence of death. His natural cru­elty made him take the execution of their sentence upon himself not unfrequently: to slice off a [Page 336] head with his own hand, or see it done by others, was a luxurious recreation to the sanguinary HYDER.

The natural sagacity of this great man suggested, that in order to accomplish the extensive objects which his active and ambitious temper held up to his imagination, the introduction of the most per­fect military discipline was above all other things necessary; and his judgment informed him that the European was the best. He therefore held out the most tempting allurements to military adventures, and particularly to those, whether black or white, who had been trained in the service of the English East India company: he sent emissaries, for the purpose, to all parts of India, with instructions to offer great rewards; and carried this design so far, that whenever accident or war threw persons of that description into his hands, he never failed to detain them, and, if they refused to enter into his service, treat them with the most unpardonable rigour and barbarity; and by these means brought his army to a state of perfection till then unknown to a black power. He did not stop there, but determined to establish a navy—by large offers allured many ship-carpenters and artizans from Bombay—made no in­considerable progress in constructing dock-yards, and had actually equiped some ships [...] the line, besides frigates, fitted to encounter European seas. Indeed, he seemed to have carried his views of con­quest even to the Polar regions; for it is a fact, that he directed his people, in constructing those vessels, to fit them for encountering seas of ice, or, as he called it, the thick water.

To a man of such ardent ambition and deep pene­tration, the vast power which the English East In­dia company had acquired, and were daily acquir­ing, in the East, could not fail to be an object of jealousy. He conceived a deadly and implacable animosity to the British Nation, which influenced [Page 337] his whole succeeding life, ended only with his death, and was then transmitted to his son TIPPOO SAHIB, with the exaction of a solemn oath, ever to retain those sentiments.

A coincidence of circumstances, which has sel­dom occured in the fortunes of men, tended, at a lucky crisis, to further the bold projects of HYDER; and neither fortune, though extremely propitious to him, nor his own unbounded talents and ener­getic spirit, favoured the execution of them, more than the bungling politics, the ludicrous ambition, and the consequent unjust fiable proceedings, of one of our Pro [...]encies in India—I mean Bombay. Fortunately, the wisdom and moderation of our East India councils at this day, vindicate the wounded character of the British nation, and justi­fy me in the remarks I make.

An ambitious and profligate chief of the Marhat­ta Tribes—his name RAGANAUT ROW—had been deposed by the wise men of his country, for having murdered his nephew, in order to usurp the throne of Setterah. He fled to Bombay, and, by specious promises and other means, prevailed on that Presi­dency to afford him an asylum, and finally to take up arms in his defence against the united Marhatta States, who at the very time were able to raise an army of three hundred thousand fighting men. Hostilities were first commenced by the English; and by them peace was first proposed. The treaty of Poonah was made, by which it was provided that RAGANAUT ROW would quit Bombay; and by the English the provisions of that treaty were broken—for, in direct violation of it RAGANAUT was kept at Bombay. This breach of the treaty led to another; for this crafty and unprincipled chief made use of it with such address as to per­suade that Presidency to attack the Marhattas again: —by magnifying the power of his party among his countrymen, he prevailed upon them once more [Page 338] to assert his rights; and the Presidency of Calcutta, I am afraid, were induced to join that of Bombay in the plan.

It happened unfortunately, that at this time the Presidency of Bombay was composed of persons the most unqualified, probably, that could be found in any community for offices of such importance. One, particularly, was allowed, by the almost una­nimous consent of those who knew his private or public character, to be ignorant, not only of the first principles of government, but of the ordinary knowledge requisite for a gentleman; and for situa­tions of moment he was peculiarly disqualified by a fondness for minutiae, to which he paid more at­tention than to matters of greater consequence. A temper and intellect of this kind were rendered still more incapable of the enlarged views any Representative of a great Nation in a distant colo­ny should possess, by a mercantile education and habits, which narrowed even his circumscribed mind, and left him not a sentiment, not an idea, that was not merely commercial. The administra­tion of such men was exactly what might have been expected; and, instead of asserting the dignity of Great Britain, or promoting the advantage of their employers—narrow policy, selfish views, and ef­forts arising from mistaken notions of conquest, made the whole tissue of their conduct in India.

Blinded by the plausible insinuations of RAGA­NAUT, and stimulated, as I have already observed, by a lust for conquest, which would have been un­justifiable even in an hereditary despot, but which were peculiarly vicious and ridiculous in a body of merchants who were themselves subjects, the East India company's servants again determined to sup­port, by force of arms, that most atrocious mur­derer: and with the contemptibly inadequate force of four [...]housand men, encumbered with an un­wieldy train of baggage and servants for the ac­commodation [Page 339] of finikin voluptuous officers, and led by two doughty compting-house champions (CARNAC and MOSTYN), with colonel EGERTON as military assistant rather than commander, they set out, to encounter the whole torrent of the Mar­hatta force, and conduct RAGANAUT to Poonah.

Had RAGANAUT advanced at the head of his own partizans only, the chiefs of the Marhatta Nation might possibly have taken different sides of the question, and left between them a breach for his arms or intrigues to make an entrance fatal to the general cause of the country: but the assaults of a foreign army—an army of interested peculat­ing strangers, as the company's troops then were— an army of avowed natural enemies, professing a different religion, entertaining different political principles, and formed by nature of a different complexion—roused and united them in one com­mon cause, and compressed discordant interests, which had been for time immemorial at irreconcila­ble variance, into one compact body of resistance, which, as it became more firm from the strokes of hostility, could not, in the nature of things, be subdued; in the same manner as the unjustifiable confederacy of kings against France lately united all the conflicting parties of that country—con­verted twenty-seven millions of people, male and female, into one compact armed force—rendered them not only invincible at home, but terrible abroad—and finally, has enabled them to bestride, Colossus like, the universe.

LETTER LVI.

THE approach of the British troops with RAGANAUT caused great alarm at Poonah; and the ministers there sent to offer terms, which were con­temptuously rejected. They then determined to save, by prowess, those rights which they could not preserve by justice or negociation—and took the field with such great force, that their menacing enemies found it expedient to consider of a retreat. The faithful RAGANAUT, finding his plans baffled, sent privately to SCINDIAH, the Marhatta chief, proposing to him to attack the English, and pro­mising in that case to join him with his part of the army: his perfidy, however, being discovered, the Engl [...]sh commanders began to retreat, carrying him along with them. They were, however, sur­rounded, and reduced to make the most abject con­cessions—offering a carte-blanche to SCINDIAH as the price of a retreat: but that august chief nobly disdained to take advantage of their situation, and contented himself with terms which justice should have ex [...]cted from them, even if necessity had not compelled their acceptance. The restoration of Salsette, and of the other conquests made by the company's troops during the preceding hostilities, and the delivery of RAGANAUT'S person into the hands of the Marhattas, were among the prov [...]sions. RAGANAUT was delivered up: two he [...]itag [...]s were taken for the remaining part of the treaty, and the harrassed remains of the English army were per­mitted to return to Bombay.

RAGANAUT having found means to escape, reach­ed S [...]a [...]; and the company's chiefs refused to com­ply [Page 341] with the provisions of the treaty: notwith­standing which, the noble Marhatta dismissed the hostages, and prepared for a more manly revenge than that which could be wreaked on two defence­less individuals. General GODDART, who had been sent with an army from Bengal, was commis­sioned to negociate for a pacification: but SCIN­DIAH making the delivery of RAGANAUT into his hands an indispensable preliminary, the negociation was broken off, and both parties determined to re­fer the controversy to the decision of the sword.

Every thing seemed to conspire to chastise the rashness and folly of our Indian councils. The difficulties in which our American contest had in­volved the nation, were reported with exaggera­tion in India, and gave additional firmness to our enemies in that quarter. The restless and intrigu­ing spirit of the court of Versailles found its way with Monsieur ST. LUBIN to the shores of Indos­tan, and so powerfully worked upon the mind of HYDER, that he entered into a treaty with France against England, and brought the strength of both into the most formidable combination that ever was made in that country, to root out the power of Great Britain from the East.

Thus, by the depraved politics of the councils of a petty settlement, were the important interests of Great Britain in India, and the lives and pro­perties of all its servants in that quarter, at once exposed to the fury of three formidable hostile powers—the Marhattas, HYDER and the French.

I will not entangle my narrative with a detail of the various military operations which arose from this confederacy: they were in general disastrous to the English, whose power there was preserved from utter annihilation by the energetic councils of Mr. HASTINGS, the unexampled courage of our troops, and the unparalleled abilities and gal­lantry of the veteran Sir EYRE COOTE. That [Page 342] part which applies to my present narrative, is the only part I think it necessary to detail; but I wish you to inform yourself of all of them fully, by an attentive perusal of the different histories of that war.

In order to relieve the Carnatic, which was suf­fering under the ravages of a formidable victorious army, who had not only cut off a great part of our forces on that coast, but affronted our army even at the walls of Fort St. George, descents upon the coasts of Malabar were planned, in order to make a diversion: and General MATHEWS, in January 1783, landed with a small army under his com­mand, at a place called Rajamondroog—took Onore, and several forts: and being joined by other troops, which, under the command of Colonel HUMBERT­SON, had done considerable service to the south­ward, and were now commanded by Colonel MAC­LEOD, marched from Cundapore, with an army consisting of twelve hundred Europeans and eight battalions of Sepoys, towards Huff [...]ingurry Ghaut, a pass that leads over these immense mountains which divide the peninsula, running north and south from Persia to Cape Comorin. After sur­mounting obstacles that would have discouraged a less enterprising commander, and for which I refer you to his own letter, inclosed herewith, ^* he mounted the Ghaut, carrying every thing before him with the fixed bayonet; and reached within a short march of Hydernagur, the place where I was confined. Those operations were undoubtedly much facilitated by the death of HYDER ALLI, which happened while I was in prison, and which drew the at [...]ention of TIPPOO SAHIB to affairs of more immediate importance than the defence of the Malabar forts.

I have thus digressed from the straight path of my narrative, in order to explain to you the occa­sion [Page 343] of the extraordinary revolution that so sud­denly took place in the fort, which I stated to you in my last letter but one—You will therefore look back to the conclusion of that letter, from whence I again take up my narrative.

I was utterly at a loss to conjecture what this so sudden resolution to release me and my opposite fellow-prisoner meant. I endeavoured to get some explanation of it from the persons about me; but all I could at the time collect was, that the Jema­dar had directed me to be taken out of irons, and ordered me to appear before him. I walked out of the citadel with two or three men who had got charge of me: it was a delightful afternoon; and my sensations on once more visiting the open air— at again viewing the vast expanse of the firmament above, and the profusion of beauties with which nature embellished the earth beneath—were too blissful, too sublime for description. My heart beat with involuntary transports of gratitude to that Being from which all sprung; and I felt that man is, in his nature, even without the intervention of his reason, a being of devotion. For an hour of such delight as I then experienced, a year of imprisonment was, I thought, hardly too dear a price. Those exquisite sensations insensibly led my heart to the most flattering presages; the ani­mal spirit appeared to have, in correspondence with the body, shaken off a load of chains; and as I walked along, I seemed to tread on air.

As we proceeded forward, we found, at some distance from the fort, an open dooly, into which the guards forcibly crammed me; and I was carried off, still attended by the same men. As we went along, they gave me to understand that HYAT SA­HIB, the Jemadar, was at a place ten or a dozen miles distant from Bidanore. I thought it within myself a most extraordinary circumstance, and was at a loss to conjecture for what purpose he required [Page 344] my presence there. Perhaps, thought I, it is to deliver me personally into the hands of TIPPOO— perhaps to send me to Seringapatam. Suspence whetted my curiosity; and impatience to know my fate, set my mind afloat upon a wide sea of conjec­ture. Still, however, my senses acknowledged a degree of pleasure indescribable—I inhaled the fresh air with greediness, and, as I snuffed it in, said to myself, "Well, well—at the worst, this will enliven my spirits, and lay up a new stock of health and vigour, to enable me to endure with manhood whatever other sufferings the barbarians, into whose hands I have fallen, may have in store for me."

When we had got about a mile from the fort, we met a person attended by three others, all on horseback. He was a man of considerable rank in that country, and I recollected to have seen him at the Jemadar's Durbar, where he had manifested a favourable disposition towards me, looking always graciously, and nodding to me, which, considering my circumstances and his, was not a little extraor­dinary. The moment he recognized me, he leaped from his horse, apparently in great agitation: then turning to the guards, ordered them to leave me immediately—saying at the same time that he would be answerable for the consequences. They seemed at first to hesitate whether they would obey him or not; but on his shaking at them his sword, which was all along drawn in his hand, and smear­ed with blood, and repeating his orders a second time in a firm and decisive tone of voice and man­ner, they all ran off.

As soon as we were alone, he revealed to me, that he had all along known who I was—had most heartily pitied my sufferings, and privately enter­tained the most anxious wishes to serve me, but could not venture to interfere—the least jealousy, when once awakened, being there always followed [Page 345] up by summary vengeance. He then mentioned his name, informing me that he was the son of a Na­bob near Vellore, whose dominions had been wrest­ed from him by force, and united to the Carnatic; that his family had received great favours from my father, in return for which he felt himself bound to do me every service in his power; but that, hav­ing been, after the misfortunes which befel his fa­mily, taken into the service of HYDER, and hold­ing then a place of consequence under him, he was disqualified from demonstrating his gratitude and esteem in the way he wished; he added, he had just come from the summit of the Ghauts, where he left the English army posted, after their having beat the Circar troops, and carried all the strong works which had been erected for the defence of the passes, and were deemed from their situation impregnable; that the Jemadar, HYAT SAHIB, had gone there to encourage the troops, and ani­mate them to one grand effort of resistance, and would remain there till the succeeding day—Here he stopped, and seemed much agitated; but recov­ering himself soon, said, in a [...]olemn and alarming manner, "This day I heard HYAT SAHIB give or­ders to bring you before him, in order that he might satiate his revenge by your dea [...]h! How happy am I in having an opportunity to rescue you! I will carry you back with me, therefore, to Bida­nore, and place you in a state of security with my family."

LETTER LVII.

SUCH unprecedented generosity affect­ed me sensibly. To run such a hazard as he must [Page 346] have incurred, merely from a principle of gratitude for services so remote in both time and person, was more than we could hope to find even among En­glishmen, who boast of their superior justice and generosity—but in a native of Indostan, where the tide of human feeling runs rather low, was asto­nishing. As well as my limitted knowledge of the language of the country enabled me, I endeavoured to make him a suitable acknowledgement: in such a cause, dullness must have become eloquent: and I lamented that my deficiency in the language pre­vented my giving vent to the extreme fullness of my heart. He seemed, however, to be satisfied with my meaning; and I was just on the point of re­turning with him to Hydernagur, when we were suddenly startled by the Jemadar's music, which was soon afterwards succeeded by the appearance of his guards advancing towards us at some dis­tance. He seemed confounded and alarmed—la­mented, in warm terms, his incapacity to serve me —and, pointed to a path which wound through a wood that lay on either side of the road, directed me to strike into it immediately, saying, that by following that route, I should certainly fall in with the British army. He then rode away, and I fol­lowed his advice, and proceeded for some time through the wood without interruption; for, though I did not implicitly believe the assertion that HYAT SAHIB meant to have cut me off, I deemed it prudent to avail myself of the opportuni­ty which offered to effect my escape, apprehending a worse fate than death, namely, being sent prisoner to Seringapatam.

Finding myself fairly extricated, I began to exa­mine my situation, and to reflect on the different conversations which had passed between HYAT SA­HIB and me, and on his conduct previous to my being put in irons. I recollected the information I had from time to time received, touching the [Page 347] Jemadar's disposition, HYDER'S death, TIPPOO SAHIB'S character and avowed hatred of HYAT, and the nature of the inhabitants. I moreover took into consideration, that my strength was im­paired, and my constitution undermined; and that my prospects in India, in point of same or emolu­ment, could only be promoted by some extraordi­nary exertion, or some hazardous enterprise. The result of the whole was a determination on my part to return back to the fort, and venture an attempt to persuade the Jemadar to offer proposals for an accomodation to General MATHEWS, and to make me the instrument of his negociation.

In pursuance of this determination, I returned; and about six o'clock in the evening re-entered the fort, and proceeded to the palace of the Jemadar, where, desi [...]ing an audience, I was admitted. At the very first sight of him, I could perceive in his appearance all the mortification of falling power. He received me with a gloomy countenance, in which there was more of thoughtful sadness than of vindictive fury. After a minute's silence, how­ever, he said to me, "Well, Sir! you have heard, I suppose, that the English army are in possession of the Ghauts, and doubtless know that the cus­toms of this country authorise my proceeding against you with the utmost rigor." Here he paused for a few moments—then proceeded thus: "Neverthe­less, in consideration of your family—in conside­ration of the regard I have for a long time conceiv­ed for you, from observing your conduct, and strict adherence to truth in answering all my questions, and still more on account of the suffering which you have sustained with fortitude, I will allow you to escape: haste you, then, away—fly from this fort directly—Begone!" Then waving his hand as a signal for me to depart, averted his face from me, and looked another way.

[Page 348]I thought that this was a very favourable oppor­tunity for my intended purpose, and entreated him to hear me while I said a few words of perhaps more moment to him than to myself. He again turned towards me; and, nodding assent, while his eye bespoke impatient curiosity, I proceeded— And, first, I expressed in the strongest terms I was able, the high sense I entertained of the favourable reception I met with when I first came to the fort; assuring him, that I should never forget the kind­ness he shewed me on that occasion▪ and that in my conscience I imputed all the sufferings I had un­dergone wholly to orders which he had been oblig­ed to execute, and not to any want of humanity in himself. Here I perceived the clouds wh [...]ch had overspread his countenance begin gradually to dis­perse, and with the greater confidence proceeded to say, that if he would condescend to give me a patient hearing, and not take my boldness amiss, I would venture to intrude upon him with my ad­vice. At this he stared at me with a look of sur­prise—pau [...]ed—then said, that he authorised me to speak whatever I pleased—continuing, in a tone of gentle melancholy, "But of what use can your advice be to me now?"

Having thus obtained his permission, I began by complimenting him on his great talents and temper in governing—on his fidelity, zeal and attachment to HYDER—and on the mild and beneficient use which he was acknowledged to have made of the unbounded power vested in him by tha [...] g [...]eat Prince, which was the more extraordinary, considering how many examples he had to justify him in a contrary practice. I reminded him, however, that circum­stances were at present widely different from what they were—that he had now got a very different sovereign to serve—that he had no longer the ten­der father (for to HYDER might have been consi­dered to him), but TIPPOO SULTAN, now the [Page 349] master, once the rival, whose measures he had al­ways opposed, against whom he had once laid a most serious charge, and who, considering the firmness of his nature, could not be reasonably sup­posed to have forgiven him; and I hinted, that whatever external appearance of regard TIPPOO might from the political necessity of the moment assume, his temper, and the spirit of Asiatic policy, were too well known to have a doubt remaining, that so far from continuing him (HYAT) in the same power and authority which he enjoyed during the life of his father HYDER, he would, on the con­trary, proceed against him with rigor and cruelty.

Here I perceived the Jemadar involuntary nod­ding his head in a manner which, though not in­tended for my observation, denoted internal assent; and was convinced that I had exactly fallen in with the current of his own thoughts. No wonder, indeed, they should be his sentiments; for they had long been the sentiments of all persons who had known the circumstances of the Nabob's fa­mily.

Having, therefore, gone as far on that point as I conceived to be necessary to awaken the mind of HYAT to the precariousness, of rather danger of his situation with TIPPOO, I painted to him, in the strongest colours I was master of, the humanity, the fidelity, the bravery and generosity of the En­glish, which, I said, were so universally acknow­ledged, that even their worst enemies bore testi­mony to them: and I assured him, that if, instead of making an unavailing opposition to them, he would throw himself with confidence upon their protection, and become their friend, he would not only be continued in his station, power and autho­rity, and supported as heretofore, but be made a much greater man, with still greater security, than ever he had been before.

[Page 350]This was the general scope of my argument with him; but there were many more which suggested themselves at the time, though I cannot now re­member them. I enforced them with all the pow­er I had: they were supported by the acknow­ledged character for generosity of the English, and still more by HYAT'S apprehensions of TIPPOO; and they had their effect. That very night he au­thorised me to go to the British General; and, though he would not commit himself by sending proposals in writing, he consented to receive them from the General, and promised to wait for my re­turn till day-light the next morning—adding, that if I did not appear by that time, he would go off with his family and treasure to some other place, and set the town, powder-magazine and store-hou­ses on fire, leaving a person of distinguished cha­racter to defend the citadel or inner fort, which was strong, with a deep ditch, and mounted with many pieces of cannon, and send immediate intel­ligence to an army of six thousand horse and ten thousand infantry, who were at that time on their road from Seringapatam, to hasten their progress, and make them advance with all possible rapidity; and he further observed, that as TIPPOO himself would come to the immediate protection of his country, and, if once come while the English ar­my remained in the open field, would give them cause to repent their temerity, there was no time to be lost.

Accompanied by a person who had officiated as interpreter between the Jemadar and me, and whose good offices and influence with HYAT, which was very great, I had been previously lucky enough to secure, I set off at ten o'clock at night, on horseback to the British army. My companion was in high spirits when we first set out from the fort; but as we proceeded, he expressed great ap­prehension of being shot in approaching the camp, [Page 351] and earnestly entreated me to sleep at a choreltry, which lay in our way, till morning. His terror must have been great indeed, to induce him to make such a proposal, as he knew very well that we had pledged ourselves to be back before dawn next day. I rallied him upon his fears, and en­deavoured to persuade him there was not the small­est danger, as I knew how to answer the outposts, when they should challenge us, in such a manner as to prevent their firing. As we advanced to the camp, however, his trepidation increased; and when we approached the sentries, I was obliged to drag him along by force. Then his fears had very nearly produced the danger he dreaded, (the almost invariable effect of cowardice); for the sentry next to us, hearing the rustling noise, let off his piece, and was retreating when I had the good fortune to make him hear me. My companion, alarmed at the noise of the musquet, fell down in a paroxysm of terror, from which it was some time before he was completely recovered. The sentry who had fired, coming up, conducted us to a place where other sentries were posted, one of whom accompa­nied us to a guard, from whence we were brought to the grand guard, and by them conducted to the General.

LETTER LVIII.

I WAS no less pleased than surprised to find, that the commander of this gallant and suc­cessful little army was General MATHEWS—an old friend of my father's, and a person with whom I had served in the cavalry soon after I entered the service. When I arrived he was fast asleep upon [Page 352] the bare ground in a choreltry. His dubash, whose name was SNAKE, recollected me immediately, and was almost as much frightened at my appearance at first, as my interpreter companion was at the shot of the sentry; for it was full five months since my hair and beard were both shaved at the same time, during which period a comb had never touched my head: I had no hat—no stockings—was clad in a pair of very ragged breeches, a shirt which was so full of holes that it resembled rather a net than a web of cloth, and a waistcoat which had been made for a man twice my size—while my feet were de­fended from the stones only by a pair of Indian slippers. SNAKE, as soon as he was able to con­quer his terror, and stop the loquacious effusions of astonishment, brought me to the General, whom I found fast asleep. We awoke him with great dif­ficulty, and, on his discovering me, expressed great pleasure and surprise at so unexpected a meeting; for, though he had heard of my imprisonment at Bidanore, he did not expect to have had the plea­sure of my company so soon.

Having stated to the General the nature and ob­ject of my mission, and related to him what had happened in the fort, he instantly saw the great advantages that must accrue from such an arrange­ment—entered into a full but short discussion of the business—settled with me the plan to be pur­sued in either case of HYAT SAHIB'S acceding to or dissenting from the terms he proposed to offer; and in less than an hour after my arrival, I was dis­patched back to the fort in the General's palan­quin, with a cowl from him, signifying that the Jemadar HYAT SAHIB'S power and influence should not be lessened, if he should quietly sur­render up the fort. Before my departure, the General expressed, in the warmest terms, his ap­probation of my conduct; and added that consider­ing the importance of the fort, the extensive in­fluence [Page 353] of HYAT SAHIB, and the advantages that might be derived from his experience and abilities, coupled with the enfeebled state of his army, the benefits of such a negociation scarcely admitted of calculation.

Notwithstanding the very flattering circumstan­ces with which my present pursuit was attended, I could not help, as I returned to Hydernagur, find­ing some uneasy sensations, arising from the imme­diate nature of the business, and from my know­ledge of the faithless disposition of Asiatics, and the little difficulty they find in violating any moral principle, if it happens to clash with their interest, or if a breach of it promises any advantage. I con­sidered that it was by no means impossible, that some resolution adverse to my project might have been adopted in my absence, and that the Jemadar's policy might lead him to make my destruction a sort of propitiation for his former offences, and to send me and the cowl together to TIPPOO, to be sacrificed to his resentment. These thoughts, I own, made a very deep impression on my mind— but were again effaced by the reflection, that a laud­able measure, once begun, ought to be persevered in, and that the accomplishing a plan of such im­portance and incalculable public utility, might operate still further by example, and produce con­sequences of which it was impossible at present to form a conception. Tho [...]e, and a variety of such suggestions, entirely overcame the scruples and fears of the danger; and I once more entered the fort of Hydernagur. At this time the British troops were, by detaching a part with Colonel MACLEOD, to get round the fort, and attack it in the rear, and, by death and sickness, reduced to less than four hundred Europeans and seven hun­dred Sepoys, without ordnance.

When I delivered the cowl to the Jemadar, he read it, and seemed pleased, but talked of four or [Page 354] five days to consider of an answer, and seemed to be wavering in his mind, and labouring under the alternate impulses of opposite motives and contra­dictory passions. I saw that it was a crisis of more importance than any other of my life—a crisis in which delay, irresolution, or yielding to the pro­tractive expedients of HYAT, might be fatal. To prevent, therefore, the effects of either treachery or repentance, I took advantage of the general confusion and trepidation which prevailed in the fort—collected the Arcot Sepoys, who, to the number of four hundred, were prisoners at large— posted them at the gates, powder-magazines, and other critical situations; and, having taken these and other precautions, went out to the General, who, according to the plan concerted between us, had pushed on with the advanced guard; and, con­ducting him into the fort with hardly an attendant, brought him straight to the Jemadar's presence while he yet remained in a state of indecision and terror. General MATHEWS, in his first interview with the Jemadar, did every thing to re-assure him, and confirmed with the most solemn asseverations the terms of the cowl; in consequence of which the latter acceded to the propositions contained in it, and the British colours for the first time waved upon the walls of the chief fort of the country of Bidanore.

Having thus contributed to put this important garrison, with all its treasures, which certainly were immense, into the hands of the Company, without the loss of a single man, or even the strik­ing of a single blow, my exultation was incon­ceivable; and, much though I wanted money, I can with truth aver, that avarice had not even for an instant the least share in my sensations. 'Tis true, the consciousness of my services assured me of a reward; but how that reward was to accrue to me, never once was the subject of my contem­plation [Page 355] —much less did I think of availing myself of the instant occasion to obtain it. How far my delicacy on the occasion may be censured or appro­ved, I cannot tell; but if I got nothing by it, I have at least the consolation to reflect that I escaped calumny, which was with a most unjustifiable and unsparing hand lavished on others. The General, it is true, promised that I should remain with him till he made some arrangements; and HYAT SA­HIB offered, on his part, to make me, through the General, a handsome present. The General, however, suddenly became dissatisfied with me; and I neither got HYAT SAHIB'S present, nor ever received even a rupee of the vast spoil found there.

Here I think it a duty incumbent on me to say something of General MATHEWS, and, while I de­plore the unfortunate turn in his temper, which injured me, and tarnished in some measure his good qualities, to rescue him from that unremitted oblo­quy which the ignorant, the interested and the en­vious have thrown upon his fame. Light lie the ashes of the dead, and hallowed be the turf that pillows the head of a soldier! General MATHEWS was indeed a soldier—was calumniated too; and although he did not use me as I had reason to hope he would, I will, as far as I can, rescue his fame from gross misrepresentation.

An extravagant love of fame was the ruling passion of General MATHEWS: it was the great end of all his pursuits; and while, in his military profession, he walked with a firm pace towards it, he lost his time, distorted his progress, and palsied his own efforts, by a jealous vigilance and envious opposition of those whom he found taking the same road, whether they walked beside him, or panted in feeble effort behind. This was his fault; it was doubtless a great alloy to his good qualities: but it has been punished with rigour disproportion­ate [Page 356] to the offence. Those who personally felt his jealousy, took advantage of his melancholy end to traduce him, and magnify every mole-hill of error into a mountain of crime. It is unmanly in any one—indeed it is—to traduce the soldier who has fallen in the service of his country; but it is here­sy in a soldier to do so. No sooner did the buzz of calumny get abroad, than thousands of hornets, who had neither interest nor concern in the affair, joined in it. The malignant, who wished to sting merely to get rid of so much of their venom—and the vain, who wished to acquire a reputation for knowledge of Asiatic affairs at the expence of truth —united together, and raised a hum which reach­ed Europe, where the hornets (I mean authors), under the less unjustifiable impulse of necessity, took it up, and buzzed through the medium of quartos and octavos so loud, that public opinion was poisoned; and the gallant soldier who, for the ad­vantage of England, stood the hardest tugs of war, and at last drank the poisoned cup from the tyrant hands of her enemy, was generally understood to be a peculator, and to have clandestinely and dis­honestly obtained three hundred thousand pounds.

On this attention I put my direct negative. It may be said, however, that this is only assertion against assertion—True! Sorry should I be to rest it there: my assertions are grounded on such proofs as are no [...] to be shaken—proofs on record in the office of the Presidency of Bombay.

As soon as Hydernagur was taken possession of, HYAT SAHIB immediately issued orders to the sorts of Mangatore, Deokull, Ananpore, and some others in that country, to surrender to the British arms. Some obeyed the mandate; but those three resisted, and were reduced by General MATHEWS. Ren­dered incautious by success, our army became less vigilant, and TIPPOO retook Hydernagur; and, in direct breach of the capitulation, made the gar­rison [Page 357] prisoners, treated them with a degree of in­humanity which chills the blood even to think of, and forced General MATHEWS to take poison in prison!

Mean-time HYAT SAHIB, with whom the Ge­neral had got into disputes, arrived at Bombay, and laid a charge against him, which he, being in the hands of TIPPOO, could not controvert, or even know. And what was the charge? The whole extent of it was his (MATHEWS'S) having got two lacks of rupees, and a pearl necklace, as a present —a sum, considering the country and circumstan­stances, not at all extraordinary, but which is com­pletely vindicated by the General's letter to the Court of Directors, dated at Mangalore, the 15th of March, 1783; in which he states the present, and requests permission to accept it. This, as I said before, is on record, and was translated by Mr. SYBBALD, who was then Persian interpreter at Bombay. The letter I allude to, you will see in the APPENDIX. In short, General MATHEWS had his faults, but an unjust avarice was not a­mongst them.

LETTER LIX.

HAVING, in my last letter, said as much as I thought justice demanded in defence of Gen­eral MATHEWS, against the charge of peculation, I am now to speak of him as his conduct touched me. He was, as I have already mentioned, an old friend of my father's, and an intimate of my own: I had reason, therefore, to expect from him, according to the usual dispositions and manners of men, if not partiality, at least friendship; and in such a case as [Page 358] I have related, where my services gave me a claim to notice, it was not unreasonable to suppose that he would have been forward to promote my inter­est, by stating my services in such a manner as to call attention to them. He had, however, some disa­greeable discussions with his officers; and seeing I was on a footing with Colonel HUMBERTSON, and still more with Major CAMPBELL (he who so ably and gallantly defended Mangalore against TIPPOO'S whole army and six hundred French), and finding me extremely zealous and importunate to have his arrangement with HYAT SAHIB adhered to, he be­came displeased, and, though he himself had deter­mined that I should remain with him, changed his mind, and ordered me away at an hour's notice— many days sooner than he had originally intended to send off any dispatches. He moreover occasion­ed my losing a sum of money, and on the whole paid less attention to my interest than the circum­stances of the case demanded.

In the evening of the day on which he determi­ned on my departure, I set off with his dispatches to the governments of Madrass and Bengal, and reached the most distant of our posts that night. From thence I had thirty miles to Cundapore, a sea­port town upon the Malabar coast, taken by us from the enemy. During this journey, which was through the country of TIPPOO SAHIB, I had on­ly six Sepoys to conduct me: yet, such was the universal panic that had seized all classes and dis­tinctions of people at the progress of the British arms in that quarter, I met only a few scattered Sepoys, who were so badly wounded I presume they were unable to travel—the villages through­out being completely abandoned by all their inha­bitants.

The sudden change of diet, which physicians tell us, and I experienced, is dangerous, from bad to good, as well as the reverse, conspiring with the [Page 359] mortification I felt at seeing things going on so ve­ry contrary to what I wished, and what I had reason to expect, had a most sudden and alarming effect upon my constitution; and I was seized on the road with the most excrutiating, internal pains, which were succeeded by a violent vomiting of blood. At length, with great difficulty, I reached Cundapore, where the commanding officer, and all about him did every thing in their power to afford me assistance and comfort under my miseries, which increased every hour rapidly. I felt as if my inside was utterly decayed, and all its functions lost in de­bility: at the same time my head seemed deranged —I could scarcely comprehend the meaning of what was said; lifting up my head was attended with agonizing pain; and if I had any power of thought, it was to consider myself as approaching fast to dissolution. I had the sense, however, to send to General MATHEWS, to acquaint him with my indisposition, and utter inability to pro­ceed with his dispatches. To this I received the following letter:

[Page 360]The receipt of this letter induced me, bad as I was, to make one other exertion; and I resolved, though I should die on the way, not to leave any thing which, even by malicious construction, could be made a set-off against my claims: I therefore hired an open boat to carry me along the coast to Anjengo, and set out with every prospect of hav­ing the virulence of my disorder increased, by be­ing exposed in an uncovered vessel to the damp of the night air, and the raging heat of the sun in the day, and of being arrested by the hand of death in my way. By the time I had got down the coast as far as Mangalore, my complaints increased to an alarming height; and I became speechless, and un­able to stand. Fortunately there happened to be a Company's vessel then lying at anchor off that place, the captain of which had the goodness to in­vite me to remain on board with him, strenuously advising that I should give up the thoughts of pro­ceeding immediately on my voyage to Anjengo, which I could not possibly survive, and to forward my dispatches by another hand. The surgeon of the ship joining the captain in opinion that I could not survive if I attempted it, and my own judg­ment coinciding with their's, I at length consen­ted, and remained there.

Tranquility, kind treatment, and good medical assistance, produced, in the space of two or three weeks, so material a change in my health, I was in a condition to avail myself, at the expiration of that time, of a ship bound to Anjengo, and which offering the additional inducement of touching at Tellicherry, determined me to take my passage in her. When I arrived at Tellicherry, and during my stay there, the great attention shewn me by Mr. FREEMAN, the chief of that place, and the comforts of his house, restored me to a great share of health and spirits—And here a very singular cir­cumstance occurred.

[Page 361]One day a vessel arrived; and perceiving a boat coming on shore from her, Mr. FREEMAN and I walked down to the beach, to make the usual in­quiries—such as, where she came from? what news she brought? &c. &c. As soon as the boat touched the shore, a gentleman leaped out of it, whose person seemed familiar to me: upon his nearer approach, I discovered that it was Mr. BRODEY, a gentleman who had been kind enough to take upon him the office of my attorney, upon my leaving India some years before—not my attor­ney in the ordinary acceptation of that word, but a liberal and disinterested friend, who obligingly un­dertook the management of my affairs in my ab­sence, without the smallest hope of advantage, or rather under circumstances which served as pre­ludes to further obligations. I was certainly pleased and surprised to see him; but his astonishment to see me amounted almost to a distrust of his eye­sight: he had received such indubitable proofs of my death, that my sudden appearance on his land­ing, at the first rush of thought, impressed him with the notion of a deceptio visus. My identity, however, was too positive for resistance; and his wonder melted down into cordial satisfaction, and congratulations on my safety. He then took out a pocket account-book, in which, for security against accidents, he kept accounts-current, written in a brief manner—and shewed me mine, settled al­most to the very day, upon which was transcribed a copy of a letter he had received, and which he thought was a testimony of my death. So, cutting out the account, and presenting it to me, he ex­pressed, in the most cordial and handsome manner, his joy that it was into my own hands he had at last had an opportunity to deliver it. This gentleman is now in this Kingdom, and too well known for me to describe him. Suffice it to say, that in En­gland, as well as in India, he has always enjoyed [Page 362] the esteem and respect of all his acquaintances, to as great an extent as any other person I know.

I again embarked to proceed on my voyage, and had hardly got on board when a ship dropped an­chor along side of us, in which captain CAMPBELL of Comby, a very near connection of mine, was passenger. On hailing one another, he heard that I was on board, and immeditely was with me. Those who sincerely love each other, and whose hearts confess the fond ties of consanguinity, can alone conceive what our mutual pleasure was at meeting so unexpectedly in so remote a corner of the world. He was then on his way to join the army. This amiable young man, now reposes in the bed of honour at Mangalore! He fell, after having distinguished himself in the very gallant defence made by that place against the whole force of TIPPOO. With regret we parted: and in due time I arrived at Anjengo without any accident befalling me, which was rather extraordinary.

Leaving Anjengo, I set out for Madras, design­ing to go all the way by land—a journey of near eight hundred miles. I accordingly struck through the Kingdom of Travancore, whose sovereign is in alliance with the English; and had not long entered the territories of the Nabob of Arcot, be­fore Major MACNEAL, an old friend of mine, and commandant of a fort in that district, met me preceded by a troop of dancing girls, who encir­cled my palanquin, dancing around me until I entered the Major's house.

It would be difficult to give you an adequate notion of those dancing girls. Trained up from their infancy to the practice of the most graceful motions, the most artful display of personal sym­metry, and the most wanton allurements, they dance in such a style, and twine their limbs and bodies into such postures, as bewitch the senses, and extort applause and admiration where in strict­ness [Page 363] disapprobation is due: nor is their agility in­ferior to the grace of their movements—though they do not exert it in the same skipping way that our stage dancers do, but make it subservient to the elegance, and, I may say, grandeur, of their air. They are generally found in troops of six or eight, attended by musicians, whose aspect and dress are as uncouth and squalid, as the sounds they produce under the name of music, are inelegant, harsh and dissonant. To this music, from which measure as much as harmony is excluded, they dance, most wonderfully adapting their step to the perpetual change of the time, accompanying it with amorous songs, while the correspondent action of their body and limbs, the wanton palpitation and heaving of their exquisitely formed bosoms, and the amorous, or rather lascivious expression of their countenance, excite in the spectators emotions not very favourable to chastity. Thus they con­tinue to act, till, by the warmth of exercise and imagination, they become seemingly frantic with ecstacy, and, sinking down motionless with fatigue, throw themselves into the most alluring attitudes that ingenious vice and voluptuousness can possibly devise.

That such incitements to vice should make a part of the system of any society, is to be lament­ed: yet, at all ceremonies and great occasions, whe­ther of religious worship or domestic enjoyment, they make a part of the entertainment; and the altar of their gods, and the purity of the marriage rites, are alike polluted by the introduction of the dancing girls. The impurity of this custom, how­ever, vanishes in India, when compared with the hideous practice of introducing dancing boys.

The Major, after having entertained me in the most hospitable manner, accompanied me to Palam­cotah, to the house of Doctor DOTT, who lived in a generous and hospitable style. I had once had [Page 364] an opportunity of evincing my good disposition to this gentleman, when he was most critically situ­ated; and the reception he gave me demonstrated, that he than retained a lively sense of my conduct to him.

Leaving Palamcotah, I continued my route thro' Madura. This country is rendered remarkable by the revolt of the famous ISIF CAWN, who made a bold and well-conducted attempt to erect himself into the sovereignty of that province, independent of the Nabob of the Carnatic, in whose service he was: and as the affair occurs to my thoughts, I will, for your information, notwithstanding its being unconnected with my story, digress into an account of it. As soon as the revolt of ISIF CAWN was known, General MONSON, an officer of great military skill and personal merit, went against him at the head of the King's and com­pany's troops, and invested the sort of Madura, in which that rebellious chief was posted. The general made a practicable breach, and, in storm­ing, was beat back with great slaughter by ISIF; and the setting in of the monsoons immediately after, retarded the further operations of our army against the place; and in the interim, peace hav­ing been concluded between the courts of St. James's and Versailles, the King's troops were withdrawn.

On the recall of the King's troops, an army of company's troops was formed, to proceed against Madura, in order to reduce this gallant turbulent rebel to subjection; and the renowned general LAWRENCE being rendered incapable of actual service, and obliged to remain at the presidency by extreme age and infirmity, the chief command de­volved upon my father by seniority: he headed the expedition; and, after overcoming innumerable difficulties thrown in his way by the inventive genius and enterprising spirit of ISIF CAWN, again [Page 365] made a breach, which was deemed practicable by the chief engineer, now Sir JOHN CALL. An assault was made with no better success than the former; for our army was again repulsed with in­credible slaughter: more than two thirds, I believe, of our European officers, were among the killed or wounded; and the death o [...] Major PRESTON, second in command, a man endeared to the a my by the possession of every advantage of person, heart and talents—an active, intrepid and able offi­cer—aggravated the calami [...]ies of the day.

If, impelled by my feelings, or tempted by re­membrance of the past. I sometimes digress from the direct path of my narrative, my FREDERICK will accompany me, not only wi [...]h patience, bu [...] I dare say with pleasure: I cannot refrain, therefore, from mentioning a memorable occurence during that fiege, not only as it is somewhat extraordinary in itself, but as it relates to a very near and dear connection. Colonel DONALD CAMPBELL, who then commanded the cavalry, received no less than fourteen sword-wounds and a musquer-ball in his body—yet continued doing his duty with such cool in [...]repidity, that brave soldiers who were witnesses to it, expressed the utmost astonishment: upon be­ing requested to quit the field, he replied, that as his family were provided for, he had nothing to fear; and as it was very unlikely his life could be save [...], he would not deprive his country of any advantage that might be derived from his exertions for the short residue of it, but continue to the last moment at his duty. With all this firmness and magnanimity, he was gentle, good-humoured, mo­dest and unassuming; and was admired for his great personal beauty, as well as military talents, particu­larly by the Duke of CUMBERLAND, under whom he served in the war in Germany as a subaltern officer, in so much that his Royal Highness had his picture drawn. It was to him the company were [Page 366] first indebted for the introduction of perfect mili­tary discipline into their army in India. In the various relations in which he stood, whether do­mestic [...]r public, as the subject, the citizen, the father, or the friend, he was so uniformly excel­lent, that the shafts of malevolence, which the best and wisest of men have but too often felt, seldom reached him; and he may justly be reckoned amongst that very small number of created beings, of whom scarcely any one had the audacity to speak ill. Upon my first arrival in India, I was put un­der his command, and lived in his family—when, instead of deporting himself towards me with that reserve and austerity which rank and reputation like his, coupled with the circumstance of his be­ing my uncle, might in some sort have justified, he took me into his confidence, treated me with the greatest affection, and acted rather as the brother and the equal, than as the parent and superior; and thus his gentle admonitions had more effect in re­straining the sallies of youth, and impetuosity of my temper, than the four, unpalatable documents of a supercilious preceptor could possibly have had.

The wonderful effects of this happy temper in swaying the stubborn disposition of headstrong youth, was exemplified in another instance—of which, since I am on the subject, I will inform you. Mr. DUPRES, then governor of Madras, wrote to him about a young gentleman, in the fol­lowing words:

The peculiar style of this letter made such an impression on my memory, that I am able to give the exact words. Colonel CAMPBELL, however, took his own unalterable method, mildness—treated the young gentleman in such a manner as to raise in him a consciousness of his dignity as a man, the first and best guard against misconduct—and ap­pointed him to the grenadier company. The result was answerable to his expectations; for the young man's conduct, both as an officer and a gentleman, was such in the sequel as to reflect credit on him­self and his family; and his very honourable and hopeful career was at last terminated by a cannon-ball at the siege of Tanjore.

If the veneration in which I shall ever hold this most dear and respected relative admitted of in­crease, it would certainly receive it from the con­trast I am every day obliged to draw between him and the wretched butterflies who sometimes flutter round us under the name of men: for, how can I help contrasting his inflexible courage, united to angelic mildness, with the insolence of lilly-livered Hectors, who, conscious of the most abject cowar­dice, dare to give an insult, and basely skulk from honest resentment beneath the arm of the law!— fellows who, like Bobadil in the play, can kill a whole army with the tongue, but dare not face a pigmy in the field!—and, while they want the prudence to restrain the torrent of effeminate in­vective, have patience enough to bear a kicking, or a box in the ear!—who bluster and vapour to hide the trembling limb and poltroon aspect, as [Page 368] children whistle in the dark to brave the ghosts they dread! Beware of all such wre [...]ches as you would shun plague or pestilence. I hope you do not imagine that I have so little common sense or philanthropy as to censure those who, from physi­cal causes or constitutional delicacy, are averse to contest: No, no—I do assure you, on the contrary, that my observation leads me to think such men, though slow to quarrel, and inoffensive in conduct, are very gallant when honour or duty demand from them a conquest over their we kness. I have, in my time, seen such men a [...] first the sport, and at last the terror of your blustering bushes; and I have always thought, that in such a triumph over their feelings, they had more true merit than men constitutionally courageous: the latter has his va­lour in common with the mere animal; the other possesses the valo [...] of sentiment. I mean that most ignominious of all beings, who, prodigal in offence, yet rel [...]ctant in separation—who, hoping to find some person passive as themselves over whom to triumph, hazard the giving of an insult, with the malignant view to gasconade over him if he submits—and, if he resents, to wreak the whole vengeance of law upon him. In society with such men, there is no safety; for they leave you only the casual alternative to choose between shame and ruin. Him who submits, they call poltroon; and him who resents, they fleece in form of law. There are others who, to bring their fellow-creatures down to their own level, brave the execrations of mankind, and the vengeance of Heaven: such ha [...]p [...]es do exist, who, though bold enough to in­sult, are tame enough to receive chastisement with­out resistance; and, though tame enough to submit to chastisement, are so furiously vindictive as to proclaim their shame, their cowardice, perhaps in the face of an open court, in order to glut their revenge by the pillage of their adversary's purse. [Page 369] Let such men enjoy the fruits of their machinati­ons, if they can—To their own feelings I consign them; for I can wish a villain no greater curse than the company of his own conscience, nor a poltroon a more poignant sting than that which the contempt of mankind inflicts upon him.

LETTER LX.

PASSING through Madura, I arrived at Trichinopoly, where I met Mr. SULLIVAN, the resident of Tanjore, who very politely furnished me with a letter to Mr. HIPPESLEY, his deputy at Tanjore, from whom I received many marks of civility. At that place I had the pleasure of meet­ing a gentleman with whom I had been at college, and for whom I had always entertained a great esteem: this was Colonel FULLARTON. It is an old maxim, that we should say nothing but good of the dead—"De mortuis nil nisi bonum." It is not a new maxim, I believe, to avoid praising the living: I am aware of the indelicacy of it; and therefore purposely avoid in this, as I shall in other instances, speaking the full opinion I entertain▪ To the general esteem in which he was held by all ranks of people in India, I refer you to Colonel FULLARTON'S character: it is of such a sort, that I wish to hold it up for your imitation. At a time of life when others have arrived to some perfection in their profession, he made choice of his, and en­tered for the first time into the arduous military de­partment, with a command for which the training of many years is no more than sufficient to prepare other men. The Minister of that day gave him this important charge, underwent the clamours of [Page 370] Opposition for it, and was justified in the event. When the Colonel came to act, so far from be­ing deficient, his whole conduct was distinguished, not less for military talent than courage—while the most fortunate command and temper and captiva­ting address subdued the spirit of prejudice, recon­ciled the most discordant, and gained him, though a King's Officer, the esteem as much of the Com­pany's as King's troops. In short, all ranks of people, civil as well as military, whether belong­ing to King or Company, united in approbation of his conduct—a thing not before, nor since, but in the person of LORD CORNWALLIS.

Too m [...] cannot be said of the advantages re­sulting from a proper command of temper. To promote that in my FEDERICK, will be attended with little difficulty: on the contrary, my only doubt is, that the placability and mildness of his disposition will too often subject him to imposition. JOHN is, however, of a different temper; there is something in it which requires both admonition and good example to repress within proper bounds: to shew him the beauty as well as use of a mild, cool temper, such instances as Colonel FULLAR­TON may be of weight, and I wish him to reflect upon it. And here I am reminded of a person and a circumstance so exactly in point, that I cannot refrain from noticing them: they convey no inade­quate idea of the happiness resulting from a gentle­ness of nature, and dominion over the mind; and as the person I allude to is dead, I may speak of him with the greater freedom in that full strain of praise of which his shining virtues deserve.

Of all the men I have ever had the good fortune to know, Sir ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL possessed, in the highest degree, that heavenly turn of mind, which not only is at peace with itself, but diffuses harmony and cheerfulness around it. No business, however urgent in occasion, restricted in point of [Page 371] time, or embarrassed with difficulty—no accident, however unexpected, or event, however sinister— none of those innumerable minutiae which fret and chafe the tempers of other men, ever suspended the cool tenor of his thought even for a moment: noth­ing shook the serenity of his temper—nothing de­ranged the presence of his mind: uniform and pla­cid, he in all situations had the full dominion of himself, and in the field it gave him a decided su­periority; nor was this felicity of nature confined to his public conduct; it attended him at the do­mestic enjoyments of the fire-side—at the social board—in the private recesses of his closet; and the very same habit of soul which, in his great pub­lic duties, rendered him valuable to his Country, and formidable to her enemies, gained him the ad­miration and esteem of his friends, the unbounded affection of his family, and the blessing of all his dependants.

An incident that occured in my presence may serve in some measure to decipher the mind of this admirable man—I shall never forget it. Previously to his going to India, he had exerted his interest to obtain from the East India Company some re­ward for my services; and, a few days before his departure, promised to speak again to Mr. DE­VAYNES, Chairman of the East India Company. I waited on him on the day he was setting off: he was just about to depart, and surrounded by a nu­merous circle. In the midst of this bustle, and the confusion, one would suppose, inseparable from such a crisis, he recollected his promise—told me Mr. DEVAYNES had that minute taken leave of him, and he had forgot to mention me, but said that he would write to him on the subject: and, though he was at the instant on the point of mo­ving to the carriage that was to carry him off, sat down, and with that amiable sweetness of manners and happily collected mind so peculiarly his own, [Page 372] wrote a letter for me to Mr. DEVAYNES—holding conversation, the while, in the most lively, enga­ging manner, with the persons around him. The conciseness and perspicuity of language in which this letter was couched, will serve to elucidate what I have said—I therefore transcribe it for you:

Be assured, my dear boys, (for now I speak to JOHN as well as FREDERICK), that one act of tri­umph over the temper is worth a million of tri­umphs over our fellow-creatures, and that the per­fect dominion of our mind is more advantageous and laudable than the dominion over Provinces or Nations. The one attaches merely to our corpo­real [Page 373] part, and is buried with our dust in the grave: the other follows our immortal part, and passes with it into eternity.

On my leaving Tanjore, Colonel FULLARTON honoured me with the care of a letter to Lord MACARTNEY, then Governor of Madras—an ex­tract of which I give you, as it applied to my busi­ness particularly:

I had also the good luck to meet, at Tanjore, Mr. BUCHANAN, a very near connection of mine, for whom I had long entertained a sincere and warm regard. It has been my misfortune to have been obliged frequently to censure some of my re­latives for ill-nature and ingratitude: I never did [Page 374] so without the most painful sensations. When, on the contrary, I am enabled to speak to their honour, I feel a proportionate share of pleasure: I am therefore happy in mentioning Mr. BUCHAN­AN as a man as amiable in his private as respectable in his public character; but the satisfaction I felt at this meeting was much alloyed by finding him in a very bad state of health.

Before I left Tanjore, I had an opportunity of being eye-witness to that extraordinary and horrid ceremony, the burring of a Gentoo woman with the body of her husband. As this is a point which has occasioned much speculation and some doubt among Europeans, I inclose you an accurate ac­count of the ceremony, as minuted down at the time it happened.

From Tanjore I proceeded to N [...]gapa [...]am, which had been taken from the Dutch by the Company's troops, and where Mr. COCHRAN, and old friend of mine, was Chief.

[Page 378]The communication by land between Negapat­nam and Madras being interrupted by the enemy's troops, I embarked in a vessel, and proceeded thi­ther by sea—Major JOHNSTON, of the Engineers, being also a passenger.

LETTER LXI.

HITHERTO every step of my journey has been marked by occurrences so unexpected, and accidents so extraordinary, that I should feel some repugnance to relate them, lest my veracity should be called in question, were they not attested by so many living persons of respectability, and by writ­ten documents of authority on record. Were one to consider them merely as the offspring of fiction, they would perhaps have interest enough to catch the attention; but, viewing them as facts, they borrow, from their number and rapid succession, as well as from their singularity, so much of the com­plexion of imaginary adventure, that the combina­tion cannot, I think, fail to interest your mind as well as your feelings.

Arrived at Negapatnam, within a short run of Madras, it is natural for you to suppose that adven­ture was at an end, and that fortune, fatigued by the incessant exertion of her caprice, might have left me to proceed the short residue of my way without further molestation. It fell out other­wise: she had marked me as her game, and resolved to worry me to the last moment; for, as we ap­proached Madras, we were chased by a French fri­gate, and taken near Fort St. George.

This appeared to me the greatest misfortune I had yet met with, and likely to be the most fatal [Page 379] in its consequences. In order to explain this, I must recur to certain circumstances, which though I was informed of them since my release from Hy­dernagur, I did not relate to you, because they were no way connected with my narrative till now.

Monsieur SUFFREIN, the French Admiral, hav­ing a number of British prisoners in his possession, whom he found it extremely inconvenient to sup­port, made a proposal for an exchange—which, from some failure in the conveyance, or ambi­guity in the terms of the correspondence, was neglected.

The motives or accidents which gave rise to this neglect have never been completely developed; and perhaps the Admiral himself, Sir EDWARD HUGHES, and Lord MACARTNEY, were the only persons who knew the bottom of that transaction. In such cases, however, the ignorance of fact is generally supplied by conjecture; and men have presumed to censure unequivocally on the mere hypothetical suggestions of their own imaginations. Candour, however, in such a case, where it could not speak with certainty, would speak with cau­tion. An Historian, particularly, should steer clear of party rancour, and not suffer the prejudice or malignity which misled himself, to go down to and mislead posterity. Where positive proof is want­ing, if we are obliged to decide, we must judge by analogy and inference; and in the case now be­fore us, we have little but the characters of the persons concerned to guide us in our decision.

Of the horrid catastrophe which succeeded the neglect of exchanging prisoners, it is hardly possi­ble that any one but Monsieur SUFFREIN himself could have had a conception. To suppose, that, under such an impression, our leading men would have hesitated to prevent it, would be to suppose their intellects weak, and their hearts corrupt and inhuman. I fancy it will be difficult to fasten on [Page 380] Lord MACARTNEY either the one or the other; for he was wise and humane: those whom the dis­appointment of unreasonable expectations, or the malevolence of party, have induced to suspect his Lordship's heart, have been forced by his conduct to revere his talents; and the breath of calumny has never touched the humanity of Sir EDWARD HUGHES. Whatever their motives, therefore, may have been—reason, conscience, and candour, must acquit them of the consequences. It should be recollected, too, that Monsi [...]ur SUFFREIN'S cha­racter was a very probable security, in the mind of men of sense and honour, against any act of horrid inhumanity: his conduct as an officer had made a new aera in the Naval History of France: his ta­lents and courage might be compared, without dis­advantage, to those of the best of our British Ad­mirals; and he had exhibited marks of uncommon generosity to those whom the chance of war had thrown into his hands. It would therefore have been something more than prescience to have pre­supposed what actually happened; and I declare most solemnly, that the inference I draw from the whole information I have had on the subject is, that, calamitous though the event was, it attaches no positive guilt on any of the parties concerned. The fact is plainly this: The French Admiral ha­ving no place on the coast where he could secure his prisoners, and grieving, as he himself subse­quently wrote to Mr. HASTINGS, to see the un­happy men, who had been six or seven months at sea, dying of the scurvy, delivered over the pri­soners, to the number of above three hundred, to HYDER. Their fa [...]e afterwards was such as it would har [...]o [...] up your soul to hear related.

Take the whole of the circumstances into one glance, and see what my feelings must have been on finding myself once more a prisoner. HYDER ALLI, who was, when compared with the worst des­pots [Page 381] of the European world, a monster, must yet be considered, when put in comparison, with his suc­cessor TIPPOO, mild and merciful. HYDER, from policy and hypocrisy, shewed some lenity to the prisoners who fell into his hands. Instances are known where British captives have broke through the crowd that surrounded him into his presence for protection—when he has hypocritically feigned anger, threatened the persons who had treated them ill, reprobated severity, and sent them off satisfied for the present. TIPPOO, on the contrary, was so perfectly savage, that cruelty seemed to be, not only the internal habit of his soul, but the guide of all his actions, the moving principle of his policy, the rule of his public conduct, and the source of his private gratification. Like the tyger which, BUFFON tells us, kills the whole flock before he begins to feed, every appetite of his yielded to the more urgent calls of barbarity; and while one drop blood of remained unspilled, one agony uninflicted, one tear unshed, the natural appetites of TIPPOO stood suspended, and the luxuries of life courted his enjoyment in vain. Like the hyena which THOMPSON calls the fellest of the fell, the fury of his nature was neither to be controuled by resist­ance, nor assuaged by blandishments. Aloof from the general order of the workings of Providence, he stands a single instance, in which the Omnipo­tent has presented a glowing living picture, ALL SHADE: not one ray breaks in, to relieve the glo­my aspect of the piece; but, distinct from the whole human race, of him alone it may be said, that he never yet disolosed, even for a moment, one spark of virtue.

From barbarity so inflexible to those taken in the ordinary chance of war, what could I expect if I fell again into his hands—I who had been the in­strument of one of his chief Governor's defection —who had, by my negociations, contributed to [Page 382] deprive him of a Province, and, what perhaps might have had greater weight with him, robbed him of the gratification of a long harboured revenge, by putting his enemy HYAT SAHIB under the protec­tion of the Company? Diabolical vengeance never perhaps met with a subject of such sublime enjoy­ment, as the torturing of me would have been to this monster. Couple this then, my FREDERICK, with the fears of SUFFREIN'S doing by me as he had already done by the other English prisoners— and guess what my terror and consternation must have been at falling into the hands of the French!

Having struck our colours to the French frigate, the Captain ordered us to follow her, and steered to the northward. We obeyed him for some time: at length night fell; and, a fresh and favourable breeze fortunately aiding the attempt, we put about, ran for Madras, and luckily dropt anchor safely in the roads. In the escapes I had hitherto had, there was always some disagreeable circum­stance to alloy the pleasure arising from them—In this instance, my joy was pure and unqualified; and I looked forward with a reasonable hope that the worst was all over.

Here I found Lord MACARTNEY governor, struggling to support the credit of the Company, and directing their affairs through such embarrass­ments and difficulties as made the most wise and temperate despair of success. So arduous an un­dertaking as the government of Madras then was, has [...]a [...]ely occurred: and a more successful final ac­complishment is not to be instanced. In the in­cessant conflicts to which he was exposed, he main­tained his post with inflexible firmness and unaba­ted energy of mind—and, in the most trying cir­cumstances, discharged his important duty with zeal, integrity and wisdom. The strict discharge of the duty he owed to his country, raised clamours against him among an interested few in India; but the [Page 383] united applauses of all parties, on his return to England, stamped currency on his fame, and has broken the shafts of detraction.

LETTER LXII.

AFTER so many hazards and hardships as I had undergone, it was a most pleasing reflect­ion to find myself in a society composed of my old­est professional connections, and warmest and sin­cerest friends: but this was a happiness I could not long enjoy: for, being charged with a mission from HYAT SAHIB to the Governor-General and Su­preme Council, I was constrained to proceed to Bengal, and accordingly set sail, for Calcu [...]a, which I [...]eached in little more than a week, with­out encountering any accident, or meeting a single occurence, worth the relation. Upon my arrival there, Sir JOHN MACPHERSON, who was in the Supreme Council, gave me a kind invitation to live at his house, and presented me to Mr. HASTINGS, with whom I entered into a negociation on behalf of HYAT SAHIB, which will appear by the fol­lowing letters:

After some delay, I received instructions, toge­ther with a letter from Mr. HASTINGS for HYAT, with which I set off in order to deliver it into his own hands, as follows:

It would be unpardonable in me to let this occa­sion pass, without expressing the high sense I en­tertain of Mr. HASTINGS'S politeness, and Sir JOHN MACPHERSON'S kindness and hospitality, during my stay at, Calcutta. As to Mr. HASTINGS, in his public capacity, it would be presumptuous and injudicious to say much, as he now stands for the judgment of the highest tribunal in this coun­try. My own observation leads me to consider him as a man of sound, acute and brilliant talents, and of a vast and comprehensive mind—of manners sociable, amiable, meek and unaffected—and of a disposition truly benevolent. His superior know­ledge of the political interests of Indostan, and particularly of the affairs of the East India compa­ny, has never been questioned; and, if the suffrage of the people of India may be allowed to decide, his conduct as Governor-General, though, like every thing human, intermixed with error, was, on the whole, great and laudable—for I declare I scarcely ever heard a man in India, Native or Eu­ropean, censure him, although he was often the subject of conversation with all persons and in all companies in the East.

The social virtues of Sir JOHN MACPHERSON are so well known, that it would be superfluous to notice them. The same friendship and hospitality I experienced in his house, has been shared by many, who are not backward in doing him ample justice on that head. But his conduct during his [Page 394] short administration can be known only by those who make the political concerns of India a subject of studious attention: To enter into a detail of his various wise regulations for the restoration of the company's affairs, would be destructive of the end I propose, which is, by a concise and simple summary of the whole, to render a fair picture of his administration so clear as to be understood by any person, however ignorant he may be of the politics of that country, and so brief as not to dis­courage the reading of it.

Sir JOHN MACPHERSON took the reins of government into his hands on the first of February, 1785. He found the company's revenues dimi­nished, and their expenditure increased, by the continual claims of Proprietors, Directors, and Ministers, to a share in the patronage of Mr. HASTINGS—and a public debt accumulating to an enormous amount. He therefore saw the necessity of putting in practice every expedient possible, and trying every experiment that the state of the country suggested, as likely to promote an increase of the revenue, a diminution of the public expen­diture, and a liquidation of the debt. He, there­fore, on the fourteenth day of his administration, commenced a reform, which he continued with indefatigable zeal and industry to introduce through the various departments of government—and, be­ginning with himself, discharged his body-guards. While he was thus employed in India, the Com­pany and Parliament in England were unremit­tingly engaged considering and molding into shape a system of reform also; and, extraordinary as it may appear, the fact is, that the sagacity of Mr. MACPHERSON had adopted by anticipation, and actually reduced to practice, the identical spe­culative reforms which the Parliament and Com­pany were proceeding upon in England; and the general plan of reform which passed the court of [Page 395] directors on the eleventh of April, 1785, had been actually carried into execution by Sir JOHN MAC­PHERSON in Bengal, in the months of February, March and April, 1785. He made arrangements for the diffusion of knowledge—established the settlement of Pulo Penang, or Prince of Wales's Island—settled the bank of Calcutta on a firm basis —regulated the markets—and, by a plan of his own conception, secured the Company from the accustomed fraudulent compositions with Zemin­dars, by bonding their balances, and making the bonds cancelable only by the Court of Directors. In fine, he introduced and carried into effect a system of reform which had a most sudden and salutary effect on the British affairs in India; and in an administration of only eighteen months, he had the felicity to perceive the fruits of his wis­dom and industry maturing—to receive that best of earthly rewards, the esteem and applause of his fellow-citizens—and to be honoured by the best of Sovereigns with the dignity of a Baronet.

While I was at Sir JOHN MACPHERSON'S house, I happened, in conversation one day with Mr. MACAULY, Sir JOHN'S Secretary, to be talking over some part of my adventures; and found to my astonishment, that he had, in his route to India, accidentally hired the very servant whom I had lost at Trieste by sending him for letters to Ve­nice; and Mr. MACAULY assured me, that he found him possessed of all the good qualities I had expected to meet in him: but the poor fellow had died before my arrival at Calcutta, to my great mortification and disappointment.

As the season in which I was to leave Calcutta was very unfavourable for a voyage by sea, and the coast thereabouts is one of the most inhospitable in the world, I set off by land for Madras, and in my way had an opportunity of surveying that curious and grotesque monument of superstitious folly, cal­led [Page 396] the Jagranaut Pagoda. It is an immense, bar­barous structure, of a kind of pyramidal form, em­bellished with devices cut in stone-work, not more singular than disgusting. Christian idolators, in forming types and figures of divine beings, always endeavour to represent them with personal beauty, as proportionate to their divine nature as human skill can make it. Those Pagans, on the contrary, in forming their idols, cast out every vestige of beauty—every thing that, by the consent of man­kind, is supposed to convey pleasing sensations; and, in their place, substitute the most extravagant, unnatural deformity, the most loathsome nastiness, the most disgusting obscenity. It is not in lan­guage to convey an adequate idea of their temples and idols; and if it was, no purpose could be an­swered by it, only the excitement of painful and abominable sensations. To keep pace with the figures of their idols, a chief Bramin, by some accursed artificial means, (by herbs, I believe), has brought to a most unnatural form, and enormous dimensions, that which decency forbids me to mention; and the pure and spotless women, who from infancy have been shut up from the sight of men, even of their brothers, are brought to kiss this disgusting and misshapen monster, under the preposterous belief that it promotes fecundity.

In this Pagoda stands the figure of Jagranaut, (their god under Brama); and a sightly figure it is truly!—nothing more than a black stone, in an ir­regular pyramidal form, having two rich diamonds in the top by way of eyes, and a nose and mouth painted red. For this god, five hundred priests are daily employed in boiling food, which, as he seldom eats it, they doubtless convert to their own use in the evening.

I stopped at Vizagapatnam for a few days with Mr. RUSSEL, who was chief of that place. His style of living was so exactly similar to that of an [Page 397] elegant family residing at their country-house in England, that I felt myself more happy and com­fortable than I had been since my arrival in India; and that happiness was much increased by meeting Mr. MAXTON, who was married to Mr. RUSSEL'S daughter. This gentleman and I had, when mere boys, been shipmates on our first going out to India: a warm friendship took place between us, which has met with no interruption, but rather increased from lapse of time, and greater habits of intimacy. To see a man whom I so entirely esteemed, in possession of the most perfect domestic felicity, and surrounded by a number of amiable connections and friends, was to me a subject of the most pleasing contemplation.

LETTER LXIII.

LEAVING Vizagapatam, I took my route along the coast, and arrived at Masulipatam, where I heard rumours of the unfortunate fate of General MATHEWS. This threw such a damp upon my spirits, that all the hospitality and kind­ness of Mr. DANIEL, the chief, could scarcely raise me from despondence; and on my arrival at Ma­dras, I found the whole amply confirmed.

As HYAT SAHIB'S affair yet remaining unset­tled, and I considered myself in a degree pledged to obtain him some satisfaction for his services in surrendering the province of Bidanore, and to ful­fil my engagements with him and the Supreme Council, I determined to proceed to Bombay, not­withstanding the disaster of General MATHEWS, which had entirely crushed all my private prospects in that quarter, and to co-operate with HYAT SA­HIB [Page 398] in such measures as might yet remain to us for promoting the public good. I left Madras, therefore, and prosecuted my journey without any material interruption until I reached Palamcotah, where the chagrin arising from my various disap­pointments, co-operating with fatigue and climate, threw me into a fit of sickness, which confined me to my bed for five or six weeks. Upon recovering a little, I crawled on to Anjengo, where, at the house of Mr. HUTCHINSON, the Resident, (who treated me with cordial kindness), I waited for an opportunity of getting to Bombay, and during that time laid in a stock of strength and spirits: at length a Europe ship touched at Anjengo on her way to Bombay, I obtained a passage and pro­ceeded.

At Bombay I found HYAT SAHIB, it having been deemed expedient to send him away from Bidanore on the approach of TIPPOO with his army, where I received from him a confirmation of what I have stated respecting General MATHEWS receiving only two lacks of rupees and a necklace. And now, as peace was negociating between us and TIPPOO, and my remaining on the Malabar coast could be of little use, I determined to return to the Carnatic. And here I have an incident to add to the many disagreeable occurrences of my life, in which, with intentions the most innocent, I was made the subject of obloquy and unmerited scandal.

Just at the time I was leaving Bombay, a young lady, the daughter of a person formerly of high rank in India, and now a member of Parliament, but whose name it would be useless to mention, wished to return to the Carnatic; and I, at the request of herself, and another lady with whom she lived, unguardedly took charge of her during the journey. Before our departure, I reflected upon the difficulties and impropriety of this step, [Page 399] and communicated my ideas to the ladies, who, in­stead of listening to the objections I started, pres­sed me to fulfil my promise: I consented, purely from principles of politeness and good-nature. During the course of our journey, she unfolded to me, of her own accord, certain acts of cruelty and injustice she had suffered from her father, at the instigation of her mother-in-law, with a story of her innocence having fallen, and her reputation hav­ing been destroyed, by a connection of the lady under whose charge she was, and who for that rea­son had pressed her departure with me; and added, she was so disgusted with India, that she determin­ed to quit it; and entreated me to assist her in the accomplishment of her wishes. I disapproved, in the most unqualified terms, of her project—gave her the best and most disinterested advice—and, through the whole disagreeable business which was imposed upon me, acted merely with a view to her honour and happiness; and several of the most respectable people in Palamcotah, where she passed some time, and at Madras, where she afterwards resided, could attest the delicacy of my conduct towards her, as well as the concern and interest I took in every thing that was likely to be of advan­tage to her.

This is a fair statement of the matter; and yet, on account of it, I was most infamously scandaliz­ed; and the scandal reached even the ears of my father, whom, however, I soon satisfied on that head. But that which stung me to the quick was the conduct of some of my own relations, (who, if they even could not justify or approve, ought at least to have been silent), in becoming the most virulent of my detractors—though, when the cha­racter of those very relations had on former occa­sions been reflected upon, I stood up and defended them at the imminent hazard of my life. Such conduct appeared to me most atrocious; for, whe­ther [Page 400] from affection, selfishness, or pride, I always strenuously supported my relations, if I heard them traduced in their absence—and, when I was not able to justify their proceedings, at least suppressed the conversation. To a man who had uniformly acted so. were there even no reciprocation of family affection, mutual justice demanded different treatment from that I experienced, which could have sprung only from depravity of heart, poverty of intellect, and the most abject meanness of spirit. And what is remarkable on this, as well as on other occasions, those who had been under the greatest obligation to my father and myself, were the most inveterate.

On the death of my father, looking over his pa­pers in the presence of the Deputy Sheriff of Argyll, and three other gentlemen, we met with a letter on the subject from the young lady's father to mine, reflecting in a gross manner on my cha­racter. I directly wrote to that gentleman, explain­ing the whole affair, and demanding justice to be done to my reputation. Upon an ecclairecissement of the matter, he wrote to me a complete apology, acknowledging that he had acted on that occasion through misrepresentation, and had too easily given credit to ill-founded reports; and saying, that as the letter in question had, by the perusal of the Deputy Sheriff and other gentlemen, in some mea­sure become a matter of public notoriety, he thought it incumbent on him to make that apology, and to express his sincere regret for any detriment I might have sustained, by his yielding unguardedly to a sudden impulse of passion, caused, as he was then perfectly convinced, by misinformation.

Thus was my character at once cleared of a ca­lumny which the industrious villany of a few had contrived to propagate through every spot of the earth where I was known.

[Page 401]This story may serve as an instructive lesson to you, my FREDERICK, to avoid, in the very first instance, any connection with women that in the probable course of things can lead to private acts of confidence: they are at best indiscreet—tend, as in this case, to make a man a dupe—and never fail to lead to scandal and reproach. You will also, from the letter of the lady's father, found eight or ten years after it was written among my father's papers, see the impropriety and hazard of commit­ting your thoughts incautiously to paper. I have known it frequently, as in this instance, end in mortification and regret.

Before quitting entirely the Malabar coast, I took a trip to Surat, which amply repaid me for my trou­ble. It surpasses any part of India for extent and variety of commerce, for populous streets and su­burbs, and for a continually moving scene of opu­lence. For a more minute account of it, I refer you to the Abbé RAYNAL, who, though not gene­rally accurate, is so elegant, that you will be able, from his description, to form a lively conception of the place, and its singular customs.

Here I was received in a very friendly manner by Mr. SETON. And indeed I may now once for all declare, that at every place where I stopped, and every post I passed, from my leaving England till my return, I experienced the most kind and liberal reception, and the most assiduous attention: my wants of every kind, whether of vessels, boats, guards of Sepoys, letters of introduction, &c. being supplied by anticipation, I had scarcely occasion to make a request, or express a wish; nor was the attention shewn to the public service less than that which was manifested for my private convenience. To kindness so truly consolatory as it then was to me, I never look back without sentiments of u [...] ­bounded gratitude and unfeigned acknowledg [...].

[Page 402]My journeys by land in India after my ship­wreck, independent of long voyages by sea, a­mounted to more than three thousand miles. After getting back to Madras, my health being materially injured, I resolved to return to England▪ but, having seen almost all the Company's possessions, I felt a curiosity to see China, and determined to make that my way. To render this route more agreeable to me, Lord MACARTNEY, in addition to his other favours, gave me the following hand­some letter of introduction to Mr. PIGOU, the Company's chief supercargo at Canton:

I had also a letter to Mr. FREEMAN, another Supercargo there; by whom, as well as by Mr. [Page 403] PIGOU, I was treated with great politeness; and Mr. FREEMAN being obliged to leave Canton, and go to Macao, for the recovery of his health, invi­ted me to accompany him there. I availed myself of the opportunity: and, as we went all along through the rivers, had an opportunity of seeing more of the country than many of the Europeans who visit that country. With the observations which I made in the course of this excursion and my residence at Canton, I would furnish you, but that Lord MACARTNEY'S embassy is just returned from that country; and there is every reason to hope that he, or some of the gentlemen who atten­ded him, and who possess superior abilities and more ample materials, will favour the public with a much more perfect account than mine could pos­sibly be.

While I remained at Canton, a very disagreeable rupture took place between the Factory and the Chinese. An English ship lying at Wampoa, in saluting, shattered a Chinese boat; by which acci­dent, two men in it were much hurt with the splin­ters, and one of them died of his wounds soon af­ter. The matter was clearly explained to the Man­darins; and they seemed to be satisfied that it was merely an accident. A few days after, the Super­corgo of the ship was forcibly seized, and carried into the city: the Council met, and determined to send for the sailors from the ships; and in the even­ing after dark, fifteen or sixteen, boats, with four or five hundred men attempted, in an irregular manner, to come up to Canton—were fired upon by the Chinese boats and forts in passing, and, with a few men wounded, were compelled to retreat. Nothing could surpass the consternation and inde­cision of the Council; and after the most humilia­ting language, they were obliged to appease the Chinese, and settle the affair by giving up the gun­ner of the ship to their resentment.

[Page 404]On the 29th December, 1784, I embarked in the Ponsborne East-Indiaman, Captain HAMMET, in which I had come from Madras to China; and, after a tolerable voyage of five months and two days, got on board a fishing boat off Falmouth, and was put on shore there, having been exactly four years and five days from England.

Such was my impatience to see you, that I wrote from Falmouth for you to meet me at Bath. We arrived there the same day: and never in my life did I experience such transports as in first pressing you to my bosom; I found you all that my heart could wish; and I must, in justice to my opinion, aver, that not one action of your life has tended since to give me a moment's pain: on the contrary, I have every reason to be satisfied that my sanguine hopes of you will be realized. The turn of your thoughts and actions have been vigilantly watched and close­ly examined by me; and from your affection to myself and your mother, your gentle deportment to my domestics, your frankness and candour with your brother and school-fellows—even from your fondness for your favourite dog Pompey, and fre­quent silent contemplations of the etchings of his countenance, I have drawn the most pleasing pre­sages of purity and innocence of heart, sweetness of temper, and refined honour and generosity. If it pleases GOD to spare your life, and strengthen your constitution, I shall still be the happiest of men, notwithstanding the inroad made upon my feelings by the hardships and afflictions I had un­dergone, of which many arose from unavoidable accident, and some from malignant and unnatural persecution, arising from base envy, dictated by cowardly revenge. I do not wish you to know who the wretches are: I only wish you to know that such detestable passions do exist in human na­ture— that, warned by their wickedness to me, you [Page 405] may, in your progress through life, be cautious, temperate and guarded.

Another thing I am anxious to impress upon the mind, particularly, of your brother JOHN, is the danger of a warm, impetuous temper. Many of the hazards and difficulties of my life arose from the predominance of a fiery spirit, and an ungov­ernable, mistaken ambition. A single instance will serve to shew it. When I was under the com­mand of Captain, afterwards General MATHEWS, in his regiment of cavalry, being cantoned at a place called Tuckolam, in the neighbourhood of extensive woods, information was brought us that wild bulls infested the neighbouring villages, and had killed some people: we prepared to enter the wood, and destroy, if possible, these ferocious ani­mals, which had become the terror and destruction of the contiguous country. The origin of those wild herds was this—From time immemorial, a re­ligious custom had prevailed among the Pagan in­habitants, of offering a calf to the wood upon the accomplishment of any favourite purpose, such as the safe delivery of his wife, or the obtaining an employment, &c. In process of time, those calves bred, and became numerous and incredibly fierce. Independent of protecting the defenceless natives, it was in itself a most interesting kind of hunting. The mode of doing it was this—A large party, well mounted, galloping in a body up to a great flock, and marking out the fiercest champion of the whole, attacked him with swords and pistols. One day, a bull which was wounded, and thereby rendered more fierce, though not less vigorous, got posted in some thick bushes, in such a manner as to be approached only in front: a whim of the most extravagant kind came into my head, suggest­ed by vain-glory and youthful fire—I thought it ungenerous for so many to attack him at once; and, wishing to have the credit of subduing him, I dis­mounted [Page 406] from my horse, and attacked him with a pike: I soon, however, had cause to repent this rash and unwarrantable step; it had nearly been fatal to me—for the bull soon threw the pike into the air, and, had it not been for the very gallant exertions of my brother officers, who rode in upon him, and rescued me at the moment that the brute's horns had touched my coat, I must have been kil­led. An Indian officer, who was in my troop, particularly distinguished himself, at the imminent hazard of his life, the bull having tossed his horse and himself to a distance from his horns. At this time I was but eighteen years of age, and had not the judgment to reflect, that if I had been killed, my fate would be attended with only pity or scorn for my folly; whereas, had I succeeded, the whole reward of my danger would have been the useless applause of some youngsters, idle and incensiderate as myself—while my rashness would have been re­probated by every man whose good opinion was worth enjoying. One or two people who were present at the time, are now living in great repute in England. We succeeded, however, in driving those wild cattle into the interior recesses of the wood, dividing the flesh of those we killed among such of the poor S [...]poys as would eat it, and there­by rendered essential service to the contiguous villages.

Often when I have heard, in coffee-houses and play-houses, some of our sporting sparks boasting of their prowess over a timid hare or a feeble fox, I could not help recollecting with respect the hun­ters of India, who chase the destructive monsters of the forest—the boar, the tyger, the hyena, the bull, or the buffalo; and, while they steel the nerves, animate the courage, and, by habitual deeds of pith, fit themselves for war, [...]ender essential service to their fellow creatures, and save the lives and property of thousands. Such greatness of spi­rit, [Page 407] under the controul of good sense, and the di­rection of prudence, must render a man respectable —but, if not managed with discretion, leaves a man no other praise than that of a magnanimous madman. Take every opportunity, my dear FRE­DERICK, of inculcating these precepts in the mind of your brother: the natural warmth of his temper often makes me fearful of the mischievous conse­quences which I have myself too often experienced —though, I thank GOD, it never stimulated me to revenge, or to a premeditated intention of in­jur [...]g any one.

I have already said more than once, that I have a most perfect conviction your amiable disposition will ensure to you the love of mankind; but it will at the same time subject you to many impositi­ons— to gaurd against which, a great share of stern­ness is sometimes necessary: there is, besides, a certain degree of fortitude absolutely requisite to give lustre to a gentle disposition; without it, meekness is thought timidity—modesty, weakness —and the charming mildness of the forgiving heart, abused as the pitiful resource of abject apprehensio [...] and a mean spirit. There are times, therefore, when the wickedness of men, and the customs of the world, make it necessary to lay aside the lamb, and assume the lion. EUROPE at this moment pre­sents an awful and alarming crisis. In a neighbour­ing country, the conduct of the higher classes of society has produced a dreadful convulsion:social order has been subverted, and the stability of pro­perty annihilated: all reasoning from the history of former times is found inapplicable to the pre­sent: the system of warfare itself has undergone a revolution; and no man is able to say from positive inference, "Thus will it be to morrow." Our insular situation, thank GOD! protects us: and the precarious footing upon which civil order and property stand in most countries on the continent, [Page 408] make our state in England enviable. The time is nevertheless pregnant with extraordinary event; and you are now approaching that age at which men should be ready to act at the call of their coun­try. It is therefore fitting for you to make such things the subject of frequent contemplation—to habituate your mind to the meeting of danger, so as to be ready, at a moment's warning, to lay down your life, if necessary, for the good of your coun­try; for, after all, my FREDERICK, what avails it whether we die in this way or in that?—to die with honour and a good conscience, is all. Let prejudice be laid aside—and who, possessed of com­mon sense, could hesitate a moment to prefer death in the field, to death with the loathsome aggrava­tion of sickness, the crocodile tears of pretended friends, and the painful emotions and lamentations of those who really love us?

Finally, I must observe, that at the time I left In­dia, the affairs of the British Nation wore so very lowering an aspect, all persons acquainted with our concerns there, allowed nothing but a long series of wise measures, with the best efficient servants to execute them, could re [...]cue the company from ruin. I am happy in being able now to state, without the possibility of contradiction, that the clouds which menaced us in that quarter have since been gradually dissipating beneath the measures of the BOARD of CONTROUL, under the direction of Mr. DUNDAS; and are at last entirely dispersed by the glorious administration of Lord CORNWAL­LIS, whose wisdom in the cabinet tended no less to the security, than his military talents, justice and moderation, to the honour, of GREAT BRI­TAIN in the East. The choice of such a person for the government of India, reflects credit on HIS MAJESTY'S Councils, and evinces that the pater­nal care and solicitude of our amiable SOVEREIGN extend to the most remote part of the Empire.