14. CHAPTER XIV.
In which the Man of the Hill concludes his history
"Mr. Watson," continued the stranger, "very freely acquainted me,
that the unhappy situation of his circumstances, occasioned by a
tide of ill luck, had in a manner forced him to a resolution of
destroying himself.
"I now began to argue very seriously with him, in opposition to this
heathenish, or indeed diabolical, principle of the lawfulness of
self-murder; and said everything which occurred to me on the
subject; but, to my great concern, it seemed to have very little
effect on him. He seemed not at all to repent of what he had done, and
gave me reason to fear he would soon make a second attempt of the like
horrible kind.
"When I had finished my discourse, instead of endeavouring to answer
my arguments, he looked me stedfastly in the face, and with a smile
said, 'You are strangely altered, my good friend, since I remember
you. I question whether any of our bishops could make a better
argument against suicide than you have entertained me with; but unless
you can find somebody who will lend me a cool hundred, I must either
hang, or drown, or starve, and, in my opinion, the last death is the
most terrible of the three.'
"I answered him very gravely that I was indeed altered since I had
seen him last. That I had found leisure to look into my follies and to
repent of them. I then advised him to pursue the same steps; and at
last concluded with an assurance that I myself would lend him a
hundred pound, if it would be of any service to his affairs, and he
would not put it into the power of a die to deprive him of it.
"Mr. Watson, who seemed almost composed in slumber by the former
part of my discourse, was roused by the latter. He seized my hand
eagerly, gave me a thousand thanks, and declared I was a friend
indeed; adding that he hoped I had a better opinion of him than to
imagine he had profited so little by experience, as to put any
confidence in those damned dice which had so often deceived him.
'No, no,' cries he; 'let me but once handsomely be set up again, and
if ever Fortune makes a broken merchant of me afterwards, I will
forgive her.'
"I very well understood the language of setting up, and broken
merchant. I therefore said to him, with a very grave face, Mr. Watson,
you must endeavour to find out some business or employment, by which
you may procure yourself a livelihood; and I promise you, could I
see any probability of being repaid hereafter, I would advance a
much larger sum than what you have mentioned, to equip you in any fair
and honourable calling; but as to gaming, besides the baseness and
wickedness of making it a profession, you are really, to my own
knowledge, unfit for it, and it will end in your certain ruin.
"'Why now, that's strange,' answered he; neither you, nor any of
my friends, would ever allow me to know anything of the matter, and
yet I believe I am as good a hand at every game as any of you all; and
I heartily wish I was to play with you only for your whole fortune:
I should desire no better sport, and I would let you name your game
into the bargain: but come, my dear boy, have you the hundred in
your pocket?"
"I answered I had only a bill for £50, which I delivered him, and
promising to bring him the rest next morning; and after giving him a
little more advice, took my leave.
"I was indeed better than my word; for I returned to him that very
afternoon. When I entered the room, I found him sitting up in his
bed at cards with a notorious gamester. This sight, you will
imagine, shocked me not a little; to which I may add the mortification
of seeing my bill delivered by him to his antagonist, and thirty
guineas only given in exchange for it.
"The other gamester presently quitted the room, and then Watson
declared he was ashamed to see me; 'but,' says he, 'I find luck runs
so damnably against me, that I will resolve to leave off play for
ever. I have thought of the kind proposal you made me ever since,
and I promise you there shall be no fault in me, if I do not put it in
execution.'
"Though I had no great faith in his promises, I produced him the
remainder of the hundred in consequence of my own; for which he gave
me a note, which was all I ever expected to see in return for my
money.
"We were prevented from any further discourse at present by the
arrival of the apothecary; who, with much joy in his countenance,
and without even asking his patient how he did, proclaimed there was
great news arrived in a letter to himself, which he said would shortly
be public, 'That the Duke of Monmouth was landed in the west with a
vast army of Dutch; and that another vast fleet hovered over the coast
of Norfolk, and was to make a descent there, in order to favour the
duke's enterprize with a diversion on that side.'
"This apothecary was one of the greatest politicians of his time. He
was more delighted with the most paultry packet, than with the best
patient, and the highest joy he was capable of, he received from
having a piece of news in his possession an hour or two sooner than
any other person in town. His advices, however, were seldom authentic;
for he would swallow almost anything as a truth- a humour which many
made use of to impose upon him.
"Thus it happened with what he at present communicated; for it was
known within a short time afterwards that the duke was really
landed, but that his army consisted only of a few attendants; and as
to the diversion in Norfolk, it was entirely false.
"The apothecary staid no longer in the room than while he acquainted
us with his news; and then, without saying a syllable to his patient
on any other subject, departed to spread his advices all over the
town.
"Events of this nature in the public are generally apt to eclipse
all private concerns. Our discourse therefore now became entirely
political. For my own part, I had been for some time very seriously
affected with the danger to which the Protestant religion was so
visibly exposed under a Popish prince, and thought the apprehension of
it alone sufficient to justify that insurrection; for no real security
can ever be found against the persecuting spirit of Popery, when armed
with power, except the depriving it of that power, as woeful
experience presently showed. You know how King James behaved after
getting the better of this attempt; how little he valued either his
royal word, or coronation oath, or the liberties and rights of his
people. But all had not the sense to foresee this at first; and
therefore the Duke of Monmouth was weakly supported; yet all could
feel when the evil came upon them; and therefore all united, at
last, to drive out that king, against whose exclusion a great party
among us had so warmly contended during the reign of his brother,
and for whom they now fought with such zeal and affection."
"What you say," interrupted Jones, "is very true; and it has often
struck me, as the most wonderful thing I ever read of in history, that
so soon after this convincing experience which brought our whole
nation to join so unanimously in expelling King James, for the
preservation of our religion and liberties, there should be a party
among us mad enough to desire the placing his family again on the
throne." "You are not in earnest!" answered the old man; "there can be
no such party. As bad an opinion as I have of mankind, I cannot
believe them infatuated to such a degree. There may be some hot-headed
Papists led by their priests to engage in this desperate cause, and
think it a holy war; but that Protestants, that are members of the
Church of England, should be such apostates, such felos de se, I
cannot believe it; no, no, young man, unacquainted as I am with what
has past in the world for these last thirty years, I cannot be so
imposed upon as to credit so foolish a tale; but I see you have a mind
to sport with my ignorance."- "Can it be possible," replied Jones,
"that you have lived so much out of the world as not to know that
during that time there have been two rebellions in favour of the son
of King James, one of which is now actually raging in the very heart
of the kingdom." At these words the old gentleman started up, and in a
most solemn tone of voice, conjured Jones by his Maker to tell him
if what he said was really true; which the other as solemnly
affirming, he walked several turns about the room in a profound
silence, then cried, then laughed, and at last fell down on his knees,
and blessed God, in a loud thanksgiving prayer, for having delivered
him from all society with human nature, which could be capable of such
monstrous extravagances. After which, being reminded by Jones that
he had broke off his story, he resumed it again in this manner:-
"As mankind, in the days I was speaking of, was not yet arrived at
that pitch of madness which I find they are capable of now, and which,
to be sure, I have only escaped by living alone, and at a distance
from the contagion, there was a considerable rising in favour of
Monmouth; and my principles strongly inclining me to take the same
part, I determined to join him; and Mr. Watson, from different motives
concurring in the same resolution (for the spirit of a gamester will
carry a man as far upon such an occasion as the spirit of patriotism),
we soon provided ourselves with all necessaries, and went to the
duke at Bridgewater.
"The unfortunate event of this enterprize, you are, I conclude, as
well acquainted with as myself. I escaped, together with Mr. Watson,
from the battle at Sedgemore, in which action I received a slight
wound. We rode near forty miles together on the Exeter road, and
then abandoning our horses, scrambled as well as we could through
the fields and bye-roads, till we arrived at a little wild hut on a
common, where a poor old woman took all the care of us she could,
and dressed my wound with salve, which quickly healed it."
"Pray, sir, where was the wound?" says Partridge. The stranger
satisfied him it was in his arm, and then continued his narrative.
"Here, sir," said he, "Mr. Watson left me the next morning, in
order, as he pretended, to get us some provision from the town of
Collumpton; but- can I relate it, or can you believe it?- this Mr.
Watson, this friend, this base, barbarous, treacherous villain,
betrayed me to a party of horse belonging to King James, and at his
return delivered me into their hands.
"The soldiers, being six in number, had now seized me, and were
conducting me to Taunton gaol; but neither my present situation, nor
the apprehensions of what might happen to me, were half so irksome
to my mind as the company of my false friend, who, having
surrendered himself, was likewise considered as a prisoner, though
he was better treated, as being to make his peace at my expense. He at
first endeavoured to excuse his treachery; but when he received
nothing but scorn and upbraiding from me, he soon changed his note,
abused me as the most atrocious and malicious rebel, and laid all
his own guilt to my charge, who, as he declared, had solicited, and
even threatened him, to make him take up arms against his gracious
as well as lawful sovereign.
"This false evidence (for in reality he had been much the
forwarder of the two) stung me to the quick, and raised an indignation
scarce conceivable by those who have not felt it. However, fortune
at length took pity on me; for as we were got a little beyond
Wellington, in a narrow lane, my guards received a false alarm, that
near fifty of the enemy were at hand; upon which they shifted for
themselves, and left me and my betrayer to do the same. That villain
immediately ran from me, and I am glad he did, or I should have
certainly endeavoured, though I had no arms, to have executed
vengeance on his baseness.
"I was now once more at liberty; and immediately withdrawing from
the highway into the fields, I travelled on, scarce knowing which
way I went, and making it my chief care to avoid all public roads
and all towns- nay, even the most homely houses; for I imagined every
human creature whom I saw desirous of betraying me.
"At last, after rambling several days about the country, during
which the fields afforded me the same bed and the same food which
nature bestows on our savage brothers of the creation, I at length
arrived at this place, where the solitude and wildness of the
country invited me to fix my abode. The first person with whom I
took up my habitation was the mother of this old woman, with whom I
remained concealed till the news of the glorious revolution put an end
to all my apprehensions of danger, and gave me an opportunity of
once more visiting my own home, and of enquiring a little into my
affairs, which I soon settled as agreeably to my brother as to myself;
having resigned everything to him, for which he paid me the sum of a
thousand pounds, and settled on me an annuity for life.
"His behaviour in this last instance, as in all others, was
selfish and ungenerous. I could not look on him as my friend, nor
indeed did he desire that I should; so I presently took my leave of
him, as well as of my other acquaintance; and from that day to this,
my history is little better than a blank."
"And is it possible, sir," said Jones, "that you can have resided
here from that day to this?"- "O no, sir," answered the gentleman; "I
have been a great traveller, and there are few parts of Europe with
which I am not acquainted."- "I have not, sir," cried Jones, "the
assurance to ask it of you now; indeed it would be cruel, after so
much breath as you already spent: but you will give me leave to wish
for some further opportunity of the excellent observations which a man
of your sense and knowledge of the world must made in so long a course
of travels."- "Indeed, young gentleman," answered the stranger, "I
will endeavour to satisfy your curiosity on this head likewise, as far
as I am able." Jones attempted fresh apologies, but was prevented; and
while he and Partridge sat with and impatient ears, the stranger
proceeded in the next chapter.