happiness of those subjects who live under such a magistrate.
Indeed their happiness appears to have been so compleat, that we are
aware lest some advocate for arbitrary power should hereafter quote
the case of those people, as an instance of the great advantages which
attend that government above all others.
And here we will make a concession, which would not perhaps have
been expected from us, that no limited form of government is capable
of rising to the same degree of perfection, or of producing the same
benefits to society, with this. Mankind have never been so happy, as
when the greatest part of the then known world was under the
dominion of a single master; and this state of their felicity
continued during the reigns of five successive princes.* This was
the true aera of the golden age, and the only golden age which ever
had any existence, unless in the warm imaginations of the poets,
from the expulsion from Eden down to this day.
*Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, and the two Antonini.
In reality, I know but of one solid objection to absolute
monarchy. The only defect in which excellent constitution seems to be,
the difficulty of finding any man adequate to the office of an
absolute monarch: for this indispensably require three qualities
very difficult, as it appears from history, to be found in princely
natures: first, a sufficient quantity of moderation in the prince,
to be contented with all the power which is possible for him to
have. 2ndly, Enough of wisdom to know his own happiness. And, 3rdly,
Goodness sufficient to support the happiness of others, when not
only compatible with, but instrumental to his own.
Now if an absolute monarch with all these great and rare
qualifications, should be allowed capable of conferring the greatest
good on society; it must be surely granted, on the contrary, that
absolute power, vested in the hands of one who is deficient in them
all, is likely to be attended with no less a degree of evil.
In short, our own religion furnishes us with adequate ideas of the
blessing, as well as curse, which may attend absolute power. The
pictures of heaven and of hell will place a very lively image of
both before our eyes; for though the prince of the latter can have
no power, but what he originally derives from the omnipotent Sovereign
in the former, yet it plainly appears from Scripture, that absolute
power in his infernal dominions is granted to their diabolical
ruler. This is indeed the only absolute power which can by Scripture
be derived from heaven. If, therefore, the several tyrannies upon
earth can prove any title to a Divine authority, it must be derived
from this original grant to the prince of darkness; and these
subordinate deputations must consequently come immediately from him
whose stamp they so expressly bear.
To conclude, as the examples of all ages show us that mankind in
general desire power only to do harm, and, when they obtain it, use it
for no other purpose; it is not consonant with even the least degree
of prudence to hazard an alteration, where our hopes are poorly kept
in countenance by only two or three exceptions out of a thousand
instances to alarm our fears. In this case it will be much wiser to
submit to a few inconveniences arising from the dispassionate deafness
of laws, than to remedy them by applying to the passionate open ears
of a tyrant.
Nor can the example of the gypsies, though possibly they may have
long been happy under this form of government, be here urged; since we
must remember the very material respect in which they differ from
all other people, and to which perhaps this their happiness is
entirely owing, namely, that they have no false honours among them,
and that they look on shame as the most grievous punishment in the
world.
Chapter 13
A dialogue between Jones and Partridge
The honest lovers of liberty will, we doubt not, pardon that long
digression into which we were led at the close of the last chapter, to
prevent our history from being applied to the use of the most
pernicious doctrine which priestcraft had ever the wickedness or the
impudence to preach.
We will now proceed with Mr. Jones, who, when the storm was over,
took leave of his Egyptian majesty, after many thanks for his
courteous behaviour and kind entertainment, and set out for
Coventry; to which place (for it was still dark) a gypsy was ordered
to conduct him.
Jones having, by reason of his deviation, travelled eleven miles
instead of six, and most of those through very execrable roads,
where no expedition could have been made in quest of a midwife, did
not arrive at Coventry till near twelve. Nor could he possibly get
again into the saddle till past two; for post-horses were now not easy
to get; nor were the hostler or post-boy in half so great a hurry as
himself, but chose rather to imitate the tranquil disposition of
Partridge; who, being denied the nourishment of sleep, took all
opportunities to supply its place with every other kind of
nourishment, and was never better pleased than when he arrived at an
inn, nor ever more dissatisfied than when he was again forced to leave
it.
Jones now travelled post; we will follow him, therefore, according
to our custom, and to the rules of Longinus, in the same manner.
From Coventry he arrived at Daventry, from Daventry at Stratford,
and from Stratford at Dunstable, whither he came the next day a little
after noon, and within a few hours after Sophia had left it; and
though he was obliged to stay here longer than he wished, while a
smith, with great deliberation, shoed the posthorse he was to ride, he
doubted not but to overtake his Sophia before she should set out
from St. Albans; at which place he concluded, and very reasonably,
that his lordship would stop and dine.
And had he been right in this conjecture, he most probably would
have overtaken his angel at the aforesaid place; but unluckily my lord
had appointed a dinner to be prepared for him at his own house in
London, and, in order to enable him to reach that place in proper
time, he had ordered a relay of horses to meet him at St. Albans. When
Jones therefore arrived there, he was informed that the
coach-and-six had set out two hours before.
If fresh post-horses had been now ready, as they were not, it seemed
so apparently impossible to overtake the coach before it reached
London, that Partridge thought he had now a proper opportunity to
remind his friend of a matter which he seemed entirely to have
forgotten; what this was the reader will guess, when we inform him
that Jones had eat nothing more than one poached egg since he had left
the alehouse where he had first met the guide returning from Sophia;
for with the gypsies he had feasted only his understanding.
The landlord so entirely agreed with the opinion of Mr. Partridge,
that he no sooner heard the latter desire his friend to stay and dine,
than he very readily put in his word, and retracting his promise
before given of furnishing the horses immediately, he assured Mr.
Jones he would lose no time in bespeaking a dinner, which, he said,
could be got ready sooner than it was possible to get the horses up
from grass, and to prepare them for their journey by a feed of corn.
Jones was at length prevailed on, chiefly by the latter argument
of the landlord; and now a joint of mutton was put down to the fire.
While this was preparing, Partridge, being admitted into the same
apartment with his friend or master, began to harangue in the
following manner.
"Certainly, sir, if ever man deserved a young lady, you deserve
young Madam Western; for what a vast quantity of love must a man have,
to be able to live upon it without any other food, as you do? I am
positive I have eat thirty times as much within these last twenty-four
hours as your honour, and yet I am almost famished; for nothing
makes a man so hungry as travelling, especially in this cold raw
weather. And yet I can't tell how it is, but your honour is
seemingly in perfect good health, and you never looked better nor
fresher in your life. It must be certainly love that you live upon."
"And a very rich diet too, Partridge," answered Jones. "But did
not fortune send me an excellent dainty yesterday? Dost thou imagine I
cannot live more than twenty-four hours on this dear pocket-book?"
"Undoubtedly," cries Partridge, "there is enough in that pocket-book
to purchase many a good meal. Fortune sent it to your honour very
opportunely for present use, as your honour's money must be almost out
by this time."
"What do you mean?" answered Jones; "I hope you don't imagine that I
should be dishonest enough, even if it belonged to any other person,
besides Miss Western-"
"Dishonest!" replied Partridge, "heaven forbid I should wrong your
honour so much! but where's the dishonesty in borrowing a little for
present spending, since you will be so well able to pay the lady
hereafter? No, indeed, I would have your honour pay it again, as
soon as it is convenient, by all means; but where can be the harm in
making use of it now you want it? Indeed, if it belonged to a poor
body, it would be another thing; but so great a lady, to be sure,
can never want it, especially now as she is along with a lord, who, it
can't be doubted, will let her have whatever she hath need of.
Besides, if she should want a little, she can't want the whole,
therefore I would give her a little; but I would be hanged before I
mentioned the having found it at first, and before I got some money of
my own; for London, I have heard, is the very worst of places to be in
without money. Indeed, if I had not known to whom it belonged, I might
have thought it was the devil's money, and have been afraid to use it;
but as you know otherwise, and came honestly by it, it would be an
affront to fortune to part with it all again, at the very time when
you want it most; you can hardly expect she should ever do you such
another good turn; for fortuna nunquam perpetuo est bona.* You will do
as you please, notwithstanding all I say; but for my part, I would
be hanged before I mentioned a word of the matter."
*Fortune is never good forever.
"By what I can see, Partridge," cries Jones, "hanging is a matter
non longe alienum a Scaevolae studiis." "You should say alienus," says
Partridge.- "I remember the passage; it is an example under communis,
alienus, immunis, variis casibus serviunt." "It you do remember it,"
cries Jones, "I find you don't understand it; but I tell thee, friend,
in plain English, that he who finds another's property, and wilfully
detains it from the known owner, deserves, in foro conscientiae, to be
hanged no less than if he had stolen it. And as for this very
identical bill, which is the property of my angel, and was once in her
dear possession, I will not deliver it into any hands but her own,
upon any consideration whatever, no, though I was as hungry as thou
art, and had no other means to satisfy my craving appetite; this I
hope to do before I sleep; but if it should happen otherwise, I charge
thee, if thou would'st not incur my displeasure for ever, not to shock
me any more by the bare mention of such detestable baseness."
"I should not have mentioned it now," cries Partridge, "if it had
appeared so to me; for I'm sure I scorn any wickedness as much as
another; but perhaps you know better; and yet I might have imagined
that I should not have lived so many years, and have taught school
so long, without being able to distinguish between fas et nefas: but
it seems we are all to live and learn. I remember my old schoolmaster,
who was a prodigious great scholar, used often to say, Polly matete
cry town is my daskalon. The English of which, he told us, was, That a
child may sometimes teach his grandmother to suck eggs. I have lived
to a fine purpose, truly, if I am to be taught my grammar at this time
of day. Perhaps, young gentleman, you may change your opinion, if
you live to my years: for I remember I thought myself as wise when I
was a stripling of one or two and twenty as I am now. I am sure I
always taught alienus, and my master read it so before me."
There were not many instances in which Partridge could provoke
Jones, nor were there many in which Partridge himself could have
been hurried out of his respect. Unluckily, however, they had both hit
on one of these. We have already seen Partridge could not bear to have
his learning attacked, nor could Jones bear some passage or other in
the foregoing speech. And now, looking upon his companion with a
contemptuous and disdainful air (a thing not usual with him), he
cried, "Partridge, I see thou art a conceited old fool, and I wish
thou are not likewise an old rogue. Indeed, if I was as well convinced
of the latter as I am of the former, thou should'st travel no
farther in my company."
The sage pedagogue was contented with the vent which he had
already given to his indignation; and, as the vulgar phrase is,
immediately drew in his horns. He said, he was sorry he had uttered
anything which might give offence, for that he had never intended
it; but Nemo omnibus horis sapit.*
*No one is wise all the time.
As Jones had the vices of a warm disposition, he was entirely free
from those of a cold one; and if his friends must have confest his
temper to have been a little too easily ruffled, his enemies must at
the same time have confest, that it as soon subsided; nor did it at
all resemble the sea, whose swelling is more violent and dangerous
after a storm is over, than while the storm itself subsists. He
instantly accepted the submission of Partridge, shook him by the hand,
and, with the most benign aspect imaginable, said twenty kind
things, and at the same time very severely condemned himself, though
not half so severely as he will most probably be condemned by many
