19. The Description of a Person Discontented with the Present
Government, and Apprehensive of the Loss of Our Liberties.
THE house where we were to be entertained lying at a small
distance from the village, our inviter observed that as the coach was not
ready, he would conduct us on foot, and we soon arrived at one of the
most magnificent mansions I had seen in that part of the country. The
apartment into which we were shown was perfectly elegant and
modern; he went to give orders for supper, while the player, with a
wink, observed that we were perfectly in luck. Our entertainer soon re
turned, an elegant supper was brought in, two or three ladies in easy
dishabille were introduced, and the conversation began with some
sprightliness. Politics, however, were the subject on which our
entertainer chiefly expatiated; for he asserted that liberty was at once his
boast and his terror. After the cloth was removed, he asked me if I had
seen the last Monitor, to which replying in the negative, "What! nor the
Auditor, I suppose?" cried he.-"Neither, sir," returned I."That's
strange, very strange," replied my entertainer.
"Now, I read all the politics that come out. The Daily,
the Public, the Ledger, the Chronicle, the London Evening, the
Whitehall Evening, the seventeen magazines, and the two reviews; and
though they hate each other, I love them all. Liberty, sir, liberty is the
Briton's boast, and by all my coal-mines in Cornwall, I reverence its
guardians."-"Then it is to be hoped," cried I, "you reverence the
king."-"Yes," returned my entertainer, "when he does what we would
have him; but if he goes on, as he has done of late, I'll never trouble
myself more with his matters. I say nothing. I think only. I could have
directed some things better. I don't think there has been a sufficient
number of advisers: he should advise with every person willing to give
him advice, and then we should have things done in another guess
manner."
"I wish," cried I, "that such intruding advisers were fixed in the
pillory. It should be the duty of honest men to assist the weaker side of
our constitution, that sacred power that has for some years been every
day declining, and losing its due share of influence in the state. But
these ignorants still continue the same cry of liberty, and if they had any
weight, basely throw it into the subsiding scale."
"How," cried one of the ladies, "do I live to see one so base, so
sordid, as to be an enemy to liberty, and a defender of tyrants? Liberty,
that sacred gift of Heaven, that glorious privilege of Britons!"
"Can it be possible," cried our entertainer, "that there should be
any found at present advocates for slavery? Any who are for meanly
giving up the privileges of Britons? Can any, sir, be so abject?"
"No, sir," replied I, "I am for liberty, that attribute of God!
Glorious liberty! that theme of modern declamation. I would have all
men kings. I would be a king myself. We have all naturally an equal
right to the throne; we are all originally equal. This is my opinion, and
was once the opinion of a set of honest men who were called Levellers.
They tried to erect themselves into a community, where all should be
equally free. But, alas! it would never answer; for there were some
among them stronger, and some more cunning than others, and these
became masters of the rest; for as sure as your groom rides your horses,
because he is a cunninger animal than they, so surely will the animal
that is cunninger or stronger than he, sit upon his shoulders in turn.
Since, then, it is entailed upon humanity to submit, and some are born to
command and others to obey, the question is, as there must be tyrants,
whether it is better to have them in the same house with us, or in the
same village, or still farther off, in the metropolis. Now, sir, for my
own part, as I naturally hate the face of a tyrant, the farther off he is
removed from me, the better pleased am I. The generality of mankind
are also of my way of thinking, and have unanimously created one king,
whose election
at once diminishes the number of tyrants, and puts
tyranny at the greatest distance from the greatest number of people.
Now, the great who were tyrants themselves before the election of one
tyrant, are naturally averse to a power raised over them, and whose
weight must ever lean heaviest on the subordinate orders. It is the
interest of the great, therefore, to diminish kingly power as much as
possible; because whatever they take from that is naturally restored to
themselves; and all they have to do in the state is to undermine the single
tyrant, by which they resume their primeval authority. Now the state
may be so circumstanced, or its laws may be so disposed, or its men of
opulence so minded, as all to conspire in carrying on this business of
undermining monarchy. For, in the first place, if the circumstances of
our state be such as to favor the accumulation of wealth, and make the
opulent still more rich, this will increase their ambition. An
accumulation of wealth, however, must necessarily be the consequence
when, as at present, more riches flow in from external commerce than
arise from internal industry; for external commerce can only be managed
to advantage by the rich, and they have also at the same time all the
emoluments arising from internal industry; so that the rich, with us, have
two sources of wealth, whereas the poor have but one. For this reason,
wealth in all commercial states is
found to accumulate, and all such have hitherto in time
become aristocratical.
"Again, the very laws also of this country may contribute to the
accumulation of wealth, as when by their means the natural ties that bind
the rich and poor together are broken, and it is ordained that the rich
shall only marry with the rich; or when the learned are held unqualified
to serve their country as counsellors merely from a defect of opulence,
and wealth is thus made the object of a wise man's ambition; by these
means, I say, and such means as these, riches will accumulate. Now the
possessor of accumulated wealth, when furnished with the necessaries
and pleasures of life, has no other method to employ the superfluity of
his fortune but in purchasing power. That is, differently speaking, in
making dependents, by purchasing the liberty of the needy or the venal,
of men who are willing to bear the mortification of contiguous tyranny
for bread. Thus each very opulent man generally gathers round him a
circle of the poorest of the people: and the polity, abounding in accumu
lated wealth, may be compared to a Cartesian system, each orb with a
vortex of its own. Those, however, who are willing to move in a great
man's vortex are only such as must be slaves-the rabble of mankind,
whose souls and whose education are adapted to servitude, and who
know nothing of liberty except the name.
"But there must still be a large number of people
without the sphere of the opulent man's influence;
namely, that order of men which subsists between the very rich and the
very rabble; those men who are possessed of too large fortunes to submit
to the neighboring man in power, and yet are too poor to set up for
tyranny themselves. In this middle order of mankind are generally to
be found all the arts, wisdom, and virtues of society. This order alone is
known to be the true preserver of freedom, and may be called THE
PEOPLE. Now it may happen that this middle order of mankind may
lose all its influence in a state and its voice be in a manner drowned in
that of the rabble; for if the fortune sufficient for qualifying a person at
present to give his voice in state affairs, be ten times less than was
judged sufficient upon forming the constitution, it is evident that great
numbers of the rabble will thus be introduced into the political system,
and they ever moving in the vortex of the great, will follow where
greatness shall direct. In such a state, therefore, all that the middle
order has left, is to preserve the prerogative and privileges of the one
principal governor with the most sacred circumspection. For he
divides the power of the rich, and calls off the great from falling with
tenfold weight on the middle order placed beneath them. The middle
order may be compared to a town of which the opulent are forming the
siege, and to which the governor from without is hastening the relief.
While the besiegers are in dread
of an enemy over them, it is but natural to offer the
townsmen the most specious terms; to flatter them with sounds, and
amuse them with privileges; but if they once defeat the governor from
behind, the walls of the town will be but a small defence to its
inhabitants. What they may then expect, may be seen by turning our
eyes to Holland, Genoa, or Venice, where the laws govern the poor, and
the rich govern the laws. I am, then, for, and would die for, monarchy,
sacred monarchy; for if there be any thing sacred amongst men, it must
be the anointed sovereign of his people, and every diminution of his
power, in war or in peace, is an infringement upon the real liberties of
the subject. The sounds of liberty, patriotism, and Britons, have already
done much; it is to be hoped that the true sons of freedom will prevent
their ever doing more. I have known many of those pretended
champions for liberty in my time, yet I do not remember one that was
not in his heart and in his family a tyrant."
My warmth I found had lengthened this harangue beyond the rules
of good breeding; but the impatience of my entertainer, who often strove
to interrupt it, could be restrained no longer. "What!" cried he, "then I
have been all this while entertaining a Jesuit in parson's clothes; but by
all the coal-mines of Cornwall, out he shall pack, if my name be
Wilkinson." I now found I had gone too far, and asked pardon for the
warmth with which I had spoken. "Pardon!" returned
he in a fury; "I think such principles demand ten thou
sand pardons. What, give up liberty, property, and, as the Gazetteer
says, lie down to be saddled with wooden shoes! Sir, I insist upon your
marching out of this house immediately, to prevent worse conse
quences. Sir, I insist upon it." I was going to repeat my remonstrances,
but just then we heard a footman's rap at the door, and the two ladies
cried out: "As sure as death there is our master and mistress come
home." It seems my entertainer was all this while only the butler, who,
in his master's absence, had a mind to cut a figure, and be for a while
the gentleman himself; and, to say the truth, he talked politics as well as
most country-gentlemen do. But nothing could now exceed my
confusion upon seeing the gentleman and his lady enter; nor was their
surprise at finding such company and good cheer less than ours.
"Gentlemen," cried the real master of the house to me and my
companion, "my wife and I are your most humble servants; but I pro
test this is so unexpected a favor that we almost sink under the
obligation." However unexpected our company might be to them,
theirs, I am sure was still more so to us, and I was struck dumb with the
apprehensions of my own absurdity, when whom should I next see enter
the room but my dear Miss Arabella Wilmot, who was formerly
designed to be married to my son George; but whose match was broken
off as already related. As soon as she saw me, she flew to my arms
with the utmost joy. "My dear, sir," cried she, "to
what happy accident is it that we owe so unexpected a visit? I am sure
my uncle and aunt will be in raptures when they find they have the good
Doctor Primrose for their guest." Upon hearing my name, the old
gentleman and lady very politely stepped up, and welcomed me with
most cordial hospitality. Nor could they forbear smiling upon being
informed of the nature of my present visit; but the unfortunate butler,
whom they at first seemed disposed to turn away, was at my intercession
forgiven.
Mr. Arnold and his lady, to whom the house belonged, now
insisted upon having the pleasure of my stay for some days, and as their
niece, my charming pupil, whose mind in some measure had been
formed under my own instructions, joined in their entreaties, I complied.
That night I was shown to a magnificent chamber, and the next morning
early Miss Wilmot desired to walk with me in the garden, which was
decorated in the modern manner. After some time spent in pointing out
the beauties of the place, she inquired with seeming unconcern when last
I had heard from my son George. "Alas! madam," cried I, "he has now
been nearly three years absent, without ever writing to his friends or
me. Where he is I know not: perhaps I shall never see him or happiness
more. No, my dear madam, we shall never more see such pleasing
hours as were once spent by our fireside at Wakefield.
My little family are now dispersing very fast, and
poverty has brought not only want but infamy upon us." The
good-natured girl let fall a tear at this account; but as I saw her
possessed of too much sensibility, I forbore a more minute detail of our
sufferings. It was, however, some consolation to me to find that time
had made no alteration in her affections, and that she had rejected
several offers that had been made her since our leaving her part of the
country. She led me round all the extensive improvements of the place,
pointing to the several walks and arbors, and at the same time catching
from every object a hint for some new question relative to my
son.
In this manner we spent the forenoon, till the bell summoned us to
dinner, where we found the manager of the strolling company that I
mentioned before, who was come to dispose of tickets for "The Fair
Penitent," which was to be acted that evening, the part of Horatio by a
young gentleman who had never appeared on any stage. He seemed to
be very warm in -the praise of the new performer, and averred that he
never saw any who bid so fair for excellence. Acting, he observed,
was not learned in a day; "but this gentleman." continued he, "seems
born to tread the stage. His voice, his figure, and attitudes are all
admirable. We caught him up accidentally in our journey down." This
account, in some measure, excited our curiosity, and, at the entreaty of
the ladies, I was prevailed upon to accompany
them to the playhouse, which was no other than a
barn. As the company with which I went was incontestably the chief of
the place, we were received with the greatest respect, and placed in the
front seat of the theatre, where we sat for some time with no small
impatience to see Horatia make his appearance. The new performer
advanced at last; and let parents think of my sensations by their own,
when I found it was my unfortunate son. He was going to begin, when,
turning his eyes upon the audience, he perceived Miss Wilmot and me,
and stood at once speechless and immovable.
The actors behind the scene, who ascribed this pause to his natural
timidity, attempted to encourage him; but instead of going on, he burst
into a flood of tears, and retired off the stage. I don't know what were
my feelings on this occasion, for they succeeded with too much rapidity
for description; but I was soon awakened from this disagreeable revery
by Miss Wilmot, who, pale and with a trembling voice, desired me to
conduct her back to her uncle's. When we got home, Mr. Arnold, who
was as yet a stranger to our extraordinary behavior, being informed
that the new performer was my son, sent his coach and an invitation
for him; and as he persisted in his refusal to appear again upon the
stage, the players put another in his place, and we soon had him with us.
Mr. Arnold gave him the kindest reception, and I received him with my
usual transport; for I could never counterfeit false
resentment. Miss Wilmot's reception was mixed with seeming neglect,
and yet I could perceive she acted a studied part. The tumult in her
mind seemed not yet abated; she said twenty giddy things that looked
like joy, and then laughed loud at her own want of meaning. At
intervals she would take a sly peep at the glass, as if happy in the
consciousness of irresistible beauty, and often would ask questions
without giving any manner of attention to the answers.
