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Title: The Comical Pilgrim; or, Travels of a Cynick Philosopher...
Thro' the most Wicked Parts of the World, Namely, England,
Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and Holland
Author: Anonymous
Release Date: December 31, 2017 [EBook #56276]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMICAL PILGRIM ***
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Transcriber’s Note: The spelling in this text is appropriate for the period
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and a list of changes that have been made appears at the end. Where there was
any doubt, the original wording was kept.
G Thorton Scul.
THE
Comical PILGRIM;
OR,
TRAVELS
OF A
Cynick Philosopher,
Thro’ the most Wicked Parts of the World,
Namely,
| England, | }{ | Ireland, |
| Wales, | }{ | and |
| Scotland, | }{ | Holland. |
WITH
His Merry Observations on the English Stage,
Gaming-Houses, Poets, Beaux, Women, Courtiers,
Politicians, and Plotters. Welsh Clergy,
Gentry, and Customs. Scotch Manners, Religion,
and Lawyers. Irish Ceremonies in their
Marriages, Christenings, and Burials. And
Dutch Government, Polity, and Trade.
BEING
A General Satyr on the Vices and Follies of the Age.
A General Satyr on the Vices and Follies of the Age.
The Second Edition.
LONDON, Printed for S. Briscoe, at the Bell Savage, Ludgate-Hill,
and the Sun against John’s Coffee-House Swithin’s-Alley,
Cornhill, 1722
THE
PREFACE.
As Prefaces now are become common
to every Production of the
Press, I am resolv’d to be in the
Fashion likewise, to let my Reader
understand that I am not an Ascetick,
or one of those devout Pilgrims, who
will travel on Foot to see the holy Sepulchre,
the Chapel of Loretto, or some strange Relique;
but a comical merry Traveller that
would take a Perigrination, on Horseback
or by Water, beyond the Devil’s Arse i’th’
Peak, to see the Religion, Customs, and Manners
of foreign People, as well as knowing
those of my own Country; contrary to the Sentiments
of Claudian, who mentions it as a
Happiness, for Birth, Life, and Burial, to
be all in one Parish.
Some Pilgrims may brag of their having
seen a Vial full of the Virgin Mary’s Milk;
another Vial full of Mary Magdalen’s repenting
Tears; the Pummel of the Sword with
which the Ear of Malchus, the high Priest’s
Servant, was cut off; the Bill of the Cock
which crow’d after Saint Peter had deny’d his
Master, set in Silver; an Ell Flemish of the[2]
Cord with which Judas hang’d himself; a
Linnen Apron worn by our Saviour’s hæmorrhoidal
Patient; a Piece of the seemless Garment,
for which the Jewish Soldiers cast Lots;
one of Saint John the Baptist’s Eye-Teeth, set
in Gold; Saint Paul’s Cloak, which he left
at Troas, never the worse for wearing; and
talk also of their often meeting with the wandering
Jew in their Travels; these, I say,
were Curiosities I valu’d not seeing; but in all
Places wherever I came, I made general Observations
on the Folly and Vices of the Inhabitants,
thereby to correct my own Manners,
which, indeed, is a very fine Thing, in either
Man or Beast.
In Order hereto, I have travell’d in three
Parts of the World; namely, Europe, Africa,
and America; and tho’ Wickedness reigns in
all Parts of the World, yet must I needs say,
that it is not so predominate in any Place as
in England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and
Holland; where it is as hard to find Religion,
Honesty and Virtue walk Hand in Hand, as
it was for Diogenes to find an honest Woman
in Athens. This Dearth of good Manners
oblig’d me, with the abovesaid Philosopher to
turn Cynick; and if by these Lucubrations,
I can so far put Folly and Vice, out of Countenance,
as to reclaim a wicked Age, it is all
the Author desires for the Fatigue of taking
a Pilgrimage, by Land and Sea, of above
Eleven Thousand Miles, which is more than
half the Circumference of the whole Earth.
THE
Comical Pilgrim,
OR,
Travels thro’ England.
As London is the Metropolis, or capital
City in the World, for Pride,
Luxury, and all other Vices; I was
very curious of making some Observations
on them. In Order hereto,
I frequented several Taverns,
where was nothing but Drunkenness, and young
Rakes vomiting about the Room, and in their
Bacchanalian Frolicks (which made them think,
with Copernicus, the Earth turn’d round) breaking
Pipes and Glasses, to inflame a great Reckoning
to a larger Sum. I also haunted Jelly-Houses,
where was no other Diversion, than seeing
proud conceited Coxcombs eating Jellies, with a
gilded Pap-Spoon, for Provocation to venerial
Sports; which by lighting on a Fire-Ship, might
bring them to the Charge and Misery of Pills,
Bolusses, Electuaries, and Diet-Drinks; so that
these gallanting Stallions, need no other
Injunction of Penance, from the most rigid Confessor:[4]
And at every common Gaming-House about
Town, the Gamesters are as lavishing of their Oaths
and Curses, as they are at the Groom Porter’s.
One is cursing the Dice, another biting his Thumbs,
and another scratching where it doth not itch,
whilst others are flourishing their Swords in the
midst of twenty G⸺d⸺s, to have their lost
Money again.
Think I to myself, the frequenting of these
Places, will return to no better Account towards
a Reformation of bad Manners, than if a Man
should go to a Bawdy-House, to keep out of ill
Company. So having heard that a deal of good
Manners and Morality, might be learnt, in seeing
Plays acted on the English Stage; I then flung away
many a Half Crown at the Theatres in Bridges-Street,
and Lincoln’s Inn Fields, but by the immoral,
profane, and impious Expressions us’d in the
dramatick Writings, whether tragical or comical,
I could reckon the Play-Houses, no other than
Schools of Iniquity, the Sinks of all Wickedness,
and Markets for the Devil. ’Tis out of doubt,
that even the Theatres of Greece and Rome, under
Heathenism, were less obnoxious and offensive,
yet nevertheless they stood condemn’d by the
primitive Fathers, and general Councils.
The detestable lewd Expressions in the English
Plays, can do no less than debauch the Minds,
and corrupt the Manners of the Audience; but
it must needs strike every good Christian with
Horror, to hear on the Stage Almighty God
blasphem’d, his Providence question’d and deny’d,
his Name prophan’d, his Attributes ascrib’d to sinful
Creatures, and even to heathen Gods, his
holy Word burlesqu’d, and treated as a Fable,
his Grace made a Jest of, his Ministers despis’d,
Conscience laugh’d at, Religion ridicul’d, the Catholick[5]
Faith and Doctrine expos’d, the sincere
Practice of Religion, represented as the Effect of
Vapours and Melancholly, Virtue discountenanc’d,
Vice encourag’d, Evil treated as Good, and Good
as Evil; and all this highly aggravated, by being
done in cool Blood, upon Choice and Deliberation.
The Infidelity and Loosness of the present Age,
is very much owing to the Play-Houses, where
the Infection of most abominable Wickedness,
spreads among the Spectators, from the Lady in
the Front or Side-Box, to the tawdry Chambermaid
in upper Gallery. Men and Women who
frequent the Theatre, are, instead of learning
Virtue, surrounded with inordinate Temptations,
which incite them to unlawful Desires and Actions,
which soon end in the utter Ruin, both of Body
and Soul. Where Lewdness is represented, in all
the Dresses that can vitiate the Imagination, and
fasten upon the Memory; and where Pride and
Falshood, Malice and Revenge, Injustice and
Immodesty, Contempt of Marriage, and false
Notions of Honour are recommended, no Good
can be learn’d, either by old or young; and this
not among Mahometans and Infidels, not at Rome
and Venice, not in France and Spain, but in a Protestant
Country, and upon the English Stage, without
any Fear that the Judgments of God will fall
upon them. The Players exposing (as they pretend
they do) Formality, Humour, and Pedantry, is
not an equivalent for their insulting sacred Things,
and their promoting to so high a Degree, the Prophaneness
and Debauchery of the Nation.
Those who frequent the Play-House, say (to
palliate the sin) a great deal of Morality is to
be learnt from Plays; but I cannot perceive
what good Morals can be obtained from such
Expressions as these. “Sure, if Woman had been[6]
ready created, the Devil, instead of being kickt
down to Hell, had been married. Leonora’s
Charms turn Vice to Virtue, Treason into
Truth; Nature, who has made her the supreme
Object of our Desires, must needs have
design’d her the Regulater of our Morals. She’s
mad with the Whimsies of Virtue, and the Devil.
Damn’d Lies, by Jupiter and Juno, and
the rest of the Heathen Gods and Goddesses;
for I remember I paid two Guineas for swearing
Christian Oaths last Night.” As may be seen
in several of the comick Writers. However,
the Admirers of the Stage must have some Excuse
for their Folly, and thus the Devil too, to support
Vice, hangs out the Colours of Virtue. Again,
we cannot see what Morality can be learnt in,
there Expressions in the following Tragedies of
Œdipus and Theodosius.
Tho’ round my Bed the Furies plant their Charms,
I’ll break ’em, with Jocasta in my Arms:
Claspt in the Folds of Love, I’ll wait my Doom,
And act my Joys, tho’ Thunder shakes the Room. Act 2.
Nor shall I need a Violence to wound,
The Storm is here that drives me on the Ground,
Sure Means to make the Soul and Body part,
A burning Fever, and a broken Heart. Act 5. Scene 2.
In which Lines abovesaid may be seen the Lover
pursuing his Amours in Defiance of Heaven;
and Varanes dying a natural Death, or else he had
been so wicked, as to have laid violent hands on
himself. Neither are the Greek and Latin Dramatists
without their prophane Flights, and wicked
Rants: Nay, hear how Augustin, that great Father
of the Church, in these Words, Non omnino
per hanc turpitudinem verba ista commodius discuntur,[7]
sed per hæc verba turpitudo ista confidentius perpetratur.
Confes. lib. 1. cap. 16. condemns the following
Lines of Terence’s Eunuch, Act 3. Scene 5.
Suspectans tabulam quandam pictam, ubi inerat pictura hæc, Jovem
Quo pacto Danaæ misisse aiunt quondam in gremium imbrem aureum
Egomet quoque id spectare cœpi, &c.
In short, no good Manners can be acquir’d on
the English Stage, by seeing an Actor going a Tiptoe,
in Derision of mincing Dames; sometimes
speaking full-mouth’d, to mock the Country
Clowns; and sometimes upon the Tip of the
Tongue, to scoff the Citizen? that thus, by the Imitation
of all ridiculous Gestures, or Speeches, in
all Kinds of Vocations, they may provoke Laughter.
When Stages were first set up in Rome, it
was accounted infamous to frequent them; and
in England, Players, both Men and Women, are
reckon’d so scandalous, that tho’ they stile themselves
his Majesty’s Servants, yet the Statute
Law terms them Vagabonds: “Indeed they are
so infamously wicked, that one who never saw
them in this Life, may nevertheless at the Resurrection,
know their Bodies and Souls are Fellows;
insomuch that as the Play-House in Drury-Lane
has been burnt once already, it would
be a Mercy rather than a Judgment, if God
vouchsafed to smite them once again.”
The Audience in the Upper-Gallery is generally
compos’d of Lawyers Clerks, Valets de Chambre,
Exchange-Girls, Chamber-Maids, and Skip-kennels,
who at the last Act are let in gratis, in
Favour to their Masters being Benefactors to the
Devil’s Servants. The Middle-Gallery is taken up[8]
by the midling Sort of People, as Citizens, their
Wives, and Daughters, and other Jilts, who make
it their Business to let out their Commodities in
Fee-tail, to the first Cully she picks up, after
Play is over, for a small Treat, and twelve Pence
dry. The Boxes are fill’d with Lords and Ladies,
who give Money to see their Follies expos’d
by Fellows as wicked as themselves. And the
Pit, which lively represents the Pit of Hell, is
cramm’d with those insignificant Animals called
Beaux, whose Character nothing but Wonder
and Shame can compose; for a modern Beaux
(you must know) is a pretty neat, phantastical
Outside of a Man; a well digested Bundle of
costly Vanities; and you may call him a Volume
of methodical Errata’s bound in a gilt Cover.
He’s a curiously wrought Cabinet full of
Shells and other Trumpery, which were much better
quite empty, than so emptily full. He’s a
Man’s Skin full of Prophaness, a Paradise full of
Weeds; a Heaven cramm’d full of Devils, or
Satan’s Bed-Chamber, hung with Arras of God’s
own making. He can be thought no better than
a Promethean Man; at best but a Lump of animated
Dirt kneaded into Humane Shape; and if
he has any such Thing as a Soul, it seems to be
patch’d up with more Vices than are Patches in
a poor Spaniard’s Cloak. His general Employment
is to scorn all Business, but the Study of
the Modes and Vices of the Times; and you may
look upon him as upon the painted Sign of a man
hung up in the Air, only to be toss’d to and fro
with every Wind of Temptation and Vanity.
As for his Apparel, he endeavours to that all
should appear new about him, except his Vices
and Religion; he’s too much in Love with these
to change them; besides, the latter of them he[9]
cannot change, because he never had any.
When you look upon his Cloaths, you will be
apt to say, he wears his Heaven upon his Back;
and truly (’tis much to be fear’d) you see as much
of it there, as He ever shall. He is trick’d up in
such Gauderies, as if he was resolv’d to make his
Body a Lure for the Devil; and with this Bravery
would make a Bait should tempt the Tempter
to fall in Love with him. By this Variety
of Fashions he goes nigh to cheat his Creditors;
who for this Reason, dare never swear him to be
the same Man they formerly had to deal withal.
His Draper may very well be afraid to lose him
in a Labyrinth of his own Cloth, which fits, or
hangs (shall I say?) for the most part so loosely
about him, as if it were ever ready to fly away,
for Fear of a Bailiff.
His Language and Discourse are altogether suitable
to his Garb and Habit, all affected and apish,
but indeed, far more vile, sinful, and abominable.
When he talks, why then his Time-observing
Hand and Foot do so point, accent, and adorn
all his phantastick Flourishes, that his Words are
often as much lost in his Actions, as his Sense
in his Words: Withal using foolish Expressions, as
stab my Vitals, run me through the Diaphragma,
pasitively (not positively) it is so and so; speaking
as effeminately, and Molly-like, as the Ischnotes,
who say, as you may see in Lilly’s Grammar,
Nync for Nunc, Tync for Tunc. By Degrees
he steps from Idleness and Emptiness, Foolery
and Drollery, to Scurrility and Obloquy; so that
if his black Breath could blow out, or eclipse
those Lights that shine brightest, we should not
have one Star left in Virtue’s Heaven; and those
Lights which were once sent into the World, to
guide him timely and truly out of it into a better,[10]
he first endeavours to extinguish, that so he
may, without Check or Shame, wander thro’ all
the Works of Darkness into Hell. Alas! he sees
no such Loveliness in the Things above, as may
oblige him to the submissive Courtship of saying
his Prayers below; and yet is so confident to
enjoy Heaven at last; as if he thought God would
be beholden to him for accepting his Blessings;
or (as some foolish Lovers take Occasion to double
their Addresses from the Unkindness of a coy
Mistress) God would the more earnestly importune
him to be sav’d, the more disdainfully he
looks upon Salvation. If ever he appears at
Church, it is but to meditate upon the Ladies, as
they sit in their Sunday’s Beauties; and then he
returns from the House of God, as most who go
thither with no better Intentions, nay ten Times
more an Athiest than he went.
The Theatre in the Hay-Market is his sole
Delight, where half a Guinea is given for an
Italian Song, sung in a new Opera by some foreign
Eunuch, or Jilt, with such Quivering, that
the Words are lost and confounded with more affected
Noise than Harmony. Or else he passes
his Time away (as above hinted) at the Play-Houses
in Drury-Lane, or Lincoln’s-Inn Fields, to
ogle an impudent Actress, or some female Dancer,
who crane’s her Neck with such various Motions,
that one would think she was going to break it
without the Assistance of a Hangman. Or if he is
not at these Places of Pollution and Wickedness,
the Tavern he then makes his Exchange; where
he endeavours to drink himself so far into a
Beast, as if it was his Design to become thereby
incapable of Damnation, except he be forc’d to
sleep out the last Night’s Intemperance; and
thinks himself a Champion, when he can kick[11]
two down Stairs at once, the Drawer and his Bottle;
and sound the Alarm to the Skirmish, in a
loud Peal of new-fashion’d Curses. After all is
done there, he walks the Streets as light in his
Head, as his Purse; and much oftner salutes the
Pavement than the Passengers. The Beau hates
no Name so much as that of a Christian, he is afraid
it would make him melancholy: He travels
over the wide World of Sin, till he hath as little
Money as Religion, and no more Credit than Money;
whereby he is usually at last constrain’d
either to lie hid, and so become his own Prisoner,
or to pawn his Body to the Marshal of the
King’s Bench Prison in Southwark, or the Warden
of the Fleet, for his Chamber; or else, to become
a Citizen of the World, and so at last is every
where at Home, because he is indeed at Home
no where. In fine, I never saw an affected Beau
have any Bravery; which makes me think they
are related to a certain Attorney, who once resenting
my sending an affronting Letter to his Sweetheart,
had not the Courage to draw his Tilter,
when I ex tempore spoke to him the following
Lines:
Know, Sir, that I was really bred and born
To lash the Vices of the Age; and sworn
To lampoon Beaux, and Jilts; and to condemn
What Pulpits, nor the Stage dare not contemn:
So Anger, Frank, can no Redress afford,
For to defend my Pen, see here’s my Sword.
Now think I with myself, if this be the Way
of London, Drinking, Gaming, and Whoring; I’ll
e’en retire into the Country, where I thought was
more Simplicity and Honesty among the Rusticks
than the Citizens; but I found myself mistaken,[12]
for going to Deptford, I perceiv’d as much Drunkenness
among the Tarpaulins, as among the Admirers
of Geneva, at the Frenchman’s Bob-Shop,
or dirty-Face Dick in the Strand; but however,
the Tarpaulin’s Froes of this Place, as well as at
Wapping, are pretty virtuous, thro’ their Husband’s
making them go without Smocks, to prevent their
Neighbours from taking up their Wives Linnen. From
hence, I went to Greenwich-Park, where I found
as many Assignations made betwixt Whore and
Cully, as in St. James’s, or Hyde-Park. Here was
as much Lying by the Fops in Praise of their Mistresses,
as is among Lawyers; as much Flattering,
as there is at Court; and as much Dissembling,
as in a Presbyterian or Anabaptist Meeting-House;
a Folly, which I must own, I have been
formerly guilty of myself, when I sent to a
young Gentlewoman this amorous Petition, for
Flattery is the only Bait to decoy the coyest
Virgin in England.
Harmonious Numbers now my Muse does find,
To sing the choicest of your precious Kind.
Thy Wit, as well as Beauty, lovely Dame,
Who first my Breast, and more than Wealth, or Fame,
Exerts my Soul, and is my constant Aim.
The genuine Blushes that your Cheeks adorn,
Were ravish’d from the Rose, or crimson Morn;
The Persian Insects labr’ing, wrought with Care
The slender silken Threads that form your Hair;
The clear, quick Lustre of your piercing Eyes,
Was shot from Di’monds, or the spangled Skies;
Vermilion Coral left its ozie Bed,
To flush your balmy Lips with glowing Red;
To frame your Teeth, choice Pearls did crowding come,
Each from its secret Cell in Ocean’s Womb:
[13]
Arabian Sweets did all their Stores transfer,
And fed from Home, to breath in you, bright Star.
Eden once flourish’d like your blooming Face,
Your Shape, your Mein, and unaffected Grace,
From Heav’n the first of Females once possess’d,
Created as a Pattern to the rest:
From Spring your Gaiety, from calmest Brooks
Was wafted the Sereneness of your Looks;
Sweet Philomel, as she departing, sung,
Bequeath’d the Musick of your silver Tongue;
The Down of Swans, and Lillies, or the gay
And fragrant Bloom that crowns the youthful May,
To frame your Skin, did gracefully unite
Their yielding Softness, and unblemish’d White:
The vast Cerulean Sky, Earth, Sea, and Air,
Did then combin’d, and various Stores prepare
(At Heaven’s commanding Call) to frame you fair.
They fram’d you of their rarest Treasures joyn’d,
And in the Mould an Angel’s Soul unshrin’d
Therefore, fair Virgin, whose most dazling Charms
Can Saints and Anchorites bring to your Arms,
Let us this Day, for it’s a Law divine,
Offer our mutual Hearts on Cupid’s Shrine;
Revel, whilst living, in the Joys of Love,
Like thund’ring Jove, and other Gods above;
For if we slight bright Venus while we’ve Breath,
There’ll be no Thoughts of loving after Death.
But being soon tir’d of Greenwich, I proceeded
on my Pilgrimage to Gravesend, where, (and at
Stroud, Rochester, and Chatham) the Vintners, Innkeepers,
and Victuallers, are more extortioning
than any Pawn-Broker, who has the Honesty to
take no more than Cent. per Cent. for what Money
they lend. Hereupon, bidding adieu to the
County of Kent, I rambled through the County
of Surry; but it being Assize-Time when I arriv’d[14]
at Kingston upon Thames, I found I was
leap’d out of the Fryingpan into the Fire, for
Provisions and Lodging were then as dear as a
Suit of Law in Chancery; so that I rid forthwith
into the County of Sussex, where I saw nothing
but a Parcel of Bumpkins and Milk-Wenches
returning all home, as drunk as David’s sow,
from a Country-Wake. Thence, I went into
Hampshire, where Rusticks are as fat as their
Hogs and as liquorish as those who buy their
Honey. In this County is Southampton, where
the Sword of Sir Bevis is held in as much Veneration
by the Towns People, as a Piece of Paper
worn by ’Prentice-Boys, and Servant-Wenches on
Valentine’s Day. Hence, I went to Portsmouth, betwixt
which Place and Hell, the Soldiers garrison’d
here say, there is but only a Sheet of brown
Paper; however, it is honour’d by giving the
Title of a Dutchess to Squintabella, alias Madamoiselle
Louise de Querouaille. At this Sea-port,
crossing the Water, I reached at the Distance of
three Leagues, the Isle of Wight, and proceeded
to Carisbrook Castle, which inwardly, (as well
as outwardly) is much out of Repair, especially
the Room in which King Charles I. was confin’d
a Prisoner, a little before the horrid Murder
perpetrated on him, the then prevailing Party,
who under a Stratocracy or Army-Power,
brought him to the Block, and then conspir’d
to overthrow the well settled Constitution of
this Kingdom with Anarchy, and Confusion
which unparalleled Piece of Villany incited me
to write ex tempore on the Wall of that fatal
Place, the following Lines.
What dismal Horror, and as dismal Gloom,
Invades the hallow’d Silence of this Room!
[15]
Where Majesty in Mourning sat, to wait
The wreched News of his more wretched Fate;
Curst Spawn of Schism! to give the fatal Shock,
Which sent a King a Martyr from the Block.
The barbarous Act, which smote his Royal Head,
Our Calendars shall ever die with Red;
To paint the Overthrow of th’ Church and State,
In the rebellious Times of Forty Eight.
My Muse, with the shrill Eccho of these Walls,
For Vengeance on the bloody Nation calls;
And weeps, till fruitful Albion is freed
From the Fanaticks pestilential Breed;
An Offspring sprung from that most odious Race,
Whose Hanging would the Tripple-Tree disgrace.
The Royal Captive here remained in Tears,
Till Bradshaw doom’d a Period to his Years;
But now the injur’d Saint in Peace does dwell,
While those that judg’d him, burning are in Hell.
Getting cross the Water again, from this dismal
Isle, I no sooner set Foot upon Terra firma,
but I made the best of my Way for Berkshire;
where I took a Survey of Windsor Castle, and then
thought myself as well Qualify’d as any Knight
of the Garter, to take a Pilgrimage whither I
pleas’d: So with a full Body, and an empty Stomach,
(for you must know, we Pilgrims live not
very daintily) I went into Wiltshire, where I as
much admired the Cathedral of Salisbury, (as an
Antiquary, doth an old Tomb; who will go forty
Miles, and more to see it) because it contain’d
as many Windows about it, as a German Countess
did once Children in her Womb, which were just
three hundred sixty five, the precise Number of
Days in the Year, unless it happens to be Bissextile
or Leap-Year, which has one Day more.
Hence, I went with a light Heart, and a thin Pair[16]
of Breeches into Dorsetshire; where being nothing
remarkable to take Notice of, it came into my
Noddle to make the following Acrostick on Nothing.
N othing was the first Matter made the World;
O n Man e’er since nothing but Plagues are hurl’d.
T he Tye of Wedlock’s nothing but a Snare:
H onour’s like nothing but the empty Air.
I rishmen are nothing but Fools void of Sense
N othing is Sin but publick Insolence.
G old! Gold! and nothing else quits the Offence.
Next, I went a pilgramaging into Devonshire,
which might be properly call’d Devilshire, for seeing
how the Inhabitants would eat White-Pots red
hot in a Manner, a Stranger would be apt to conclude,
they came from whence they have nothing
else for their Food but Brimstone and Fire. Hereupon,
I galloped strait into Cornwal, a County very
plentiful of Wood-Cocks, not only flying in
the Air, but you should also see them smoaking
or tipling in every Chimney-Corner, in Winter.
Thence, I rambled into Somersetshire, where, at the
Bath, I saw so much Whoredom committed, that
I thought the Men, or Women neither had Occasion
to wash themselves in hot Water, when their Bodies
were all on Fire before; unless it was to
make an Experiment of that Aphorism in Physick,
which says, one Heat drives out another.
Not liking this Place, I took a Pilgrimage (I can’t
say Tour, or Progress, because Pilgrims are not
Noblemen) into Gloucestershire, where I saw the Sins
of the People were as red as the Scarlet they die;
so I soon shook the Dust off my Shoes, as a Testimony
against their Wickedness, and went to Oxon.
No sooner was I enter’d into Oxfordshire, but
I was in as longing a Condition, as the big-bellied
Woman was for a bite of a Butcher’s Arm, to see
the most famous University of Oxford; thinking
that in that Academy and Nursery of Learning,
I should see Piety, and Virtue, climb up to the
very Apex of Glory; but too soon were my
Hopes frustrated, for instead of Religion and good
Manners, I beheld nothing but Irreligion and
Prophaneness; for the Scholars were so far from
being religious, that they were asham’d of nothing
so much as that any should have the Charity
to think them so. They seem’d to cry out
upon Eve, for a lazy and dull Sinner; whilst in
every Oath they loudly swore, that Soul not worth
damning, that could not sin without a Temptation.
By their horrible and hideous Oaths they
shew’d, as if indeed they had this desperate Design
upon Almighty God, to render his sacred
Name odious to the World, by taking it often in
their profane Mouths. Their chief Delight was
to dwell upon the sore Place of an obscene Poem;
at the same Time never commending the Poet,
but for his Infirmities. Those Sparks call’d Gentlemen
Commoners, were so fantastical and prodigal,
that they walk’d as if they went in a Frame;
next as if both Head and every Member of
them turn’d upon Hinges. Every Step they
took, presented me with a perfect Puppet-Play;
and Rome itself could not in an Age have shew’d
more Anticks, than one of these Blades was able
to imitate in half an Hour. Here those who
have Money enough allow’d them by their Friends,
learn first of all to make Choice of their boon
Companions, how to rail at the Statutes, and
break all good Orders; how to wear a gaudy[18]
Suit, and a torn Gown; to curse their Tutors
by the Name of Baal’s Priests, and to sell more
Books in half an Hour, than they had bought
them in a Year; to forget the second Year what,
perhaps for want of Acquaintance with the Vices
of the Place, they were forc’d for a Pass-Time
to learn in the first, and then they think they
have Learning enough for them and their Heirs
for ever.
Thought I to my self, if this is Oxford, the
Devil take the Collegians and Citizens too, for
there was never Barrel the better Herring betwixt
either of ’em; one was full as bad as the other,
so I e’en made the best of my Way into Buckinghamshire,
where, at Eaton College, finding the
Scholars to have more Guts than Brains, and less
Learning and good Manners than either of the
two, Utrum horum mavis accipe, as you may see
in Syntaxis. I rambl’d through Oxfordshire, again
into Worcestershire, where I observ’d nothing material,
but poor Skeletons of Men and Women,
knitting Mittins and Stockings; and Children,
both Boys and Girls, smoaking Tobacco, in Pipes
as black as their Faces, and about an Inch in
Length, for a Breakfast. Hence I went into
Herefordshire, where I thought myself under the
same Punishment, as Tantalus was when in Hell, for
the Hedge-Rows all along the Roads, being full
of Apple-Trees, the Apples would bob at my
Mouth, but I could not catch ’em, which I think
was tantalizing me with a Vengeance.
I had not been long in this County, before I
steer’d my Course for Warwickshire, where in the
City of Coventry, I was shew’d the wooden Picture
of a Cobler, which (as the People told me) was
made to perpetuate the Memory of one of Crispin’s[19]
Occupation, whose Mouth watering to peep thro’
his Garret Window, to see the Lady Godiva’s Ay-forsooth,
as she rid naked on Horseback through
the City, to release the Inhabitants from heavy
Taxes laid upon them by her Husband Leofric,
he was struck blind for his Sauciness of presuming
to look at lac’d Mutton. But above all, this
County glories much in that it gave Birth to
Guy Earl of Warwick, who killing a fierce dun Cow
upon Dunmoor-Heath, by Dunchurch, both which
Places (I suppose) take their Names from this
heroick Bravery; and for this Piece of Service
and other Exploits, as killing a wild Boar; his
Memory is also still perpetuated, as well as the
abovesaid Cobler’s, in many Victuallers Signs, to
this Day.
Next, going into Northamptonshire, and Night
beginning to creep upon me, I began to be mighty
Melancholly, as being all alone; but as good
Luck would have it, I overtook a Cordwainer,
who (as he told me) was newly recover’d from a
sad Mischance; for walking carelesly one Day, he
happen’d to have a Fall, and to squat his Breech
upon a Hedge-Hog, which he carry’d away as
cleverly (it clinging to his Buttocks) as if he had
sate upon a Ball of his Wax. Whether there is
a Sympathy between a Shoemaker’s Tail, and
the Skin of an Urchin, or whether the Bristles
of the Creature enter’d the Pores of his Backside,
I list not to decide that Controversy now; but however,
the Mortal complain’d, that it was an uneasy
Cushion, and that that Spinny of Awls, had made
a Cullender of his Backside. But being not much
concern’d at the Cerebrosity of his scievy Bum, the
Eyelet-Holes whereof being not very deep, we
went together, till we came to a Church, standing[20]
like an Ace, and moping by itself, at some
Distance from a little Village; which, whether
it ran from the Parish, or the Parish from it, I
was not then inform’d; though I have most Reason
to suspect the latter, in Regard as to outward
Appearance the weak Constitution of the Fabrick
seem’d not much to be addicted to run. It
seem’d to be very crazy, and had a Muffler of
Ivy, which I presume was instead of Crutches;
for whereas that feeble Vegetable is usually upheld
by the Walls it clings to, I believe it was a
Buttress here to support the Walls. But having
sadden’d our Aspect with the melancholly Looks of
this desolate Temple, we took our leave of it, and
shot directly into the Village; at our first Salutation
whereof we chanc’d to pop into a dapper Ale-House,
mightily stuft with a huge Hostess, whose
Moisture distilling through the Pores of her Body,
and being somewhat turn’d through excessive
Heat, struck our olfactive Nerves with so great
a Sowerness, that we had quite been overcome
with this Vessel of Vinegar, had she not too
much jogg’d herself by an unhappy Fall, and spilt
a great Quantity of her unctuous Liquor. The
Shoemaker conjectur’d she had lost about five
or six Pounds Avoirdupois, from her Rear, and
presently concluded she was in great Danger
of hanging all a-one-Side, unless some charitable
Person should help her with Thrust of assisting
Nose. We had scarce prim’d our Pipes, but in
comes a Law-Jobber, accompanied with a Bum-Brusher,
or School-Master of the Place, who, after
some Time, took Occasion to try their Skill and
Breeding at Fistycuffs, but (Thanks to the Stars)
without any Danger to their Professions; for they
did not so much Aim at the Head, as level their[21]
Fury at each others Heels, where their Knowledge
was not suppos’d to lie, tho’ some there held
that they had as much Learning at one End, as
they had at t’other.
At this blind Alehouse, I and Crispin’s Disciple
lay one Night, whence, we sojourn’d together
into Bedfordshire, till we came to Dunstable,
a Town builded by King Henry I. to bridle the
Outrageousness of one Dun, a notable Thief, from
whom it takes its Name. Here, Mr. Snob having
a Mistress, and being almost within the
Atmosphere of her Presence, began to wind her,
and had a great Tendency to the Place were she
was; so that I might as soon expect a Stone
to fall beyond the Centre, as that this Gentle-Craftsman
should budge further; wherefore, nothing
was expected now, but an immediate Divorce
from each others Company; but before we
parted, he oblig’d me with the Prospect both of
her Person and Fortune. As for the first, as soon
as I saw it, I had greater Reason to congratulate
my Eye-sight than before; for she was blest with
the most ravishing Aspect, and a snug Face, most
prodigiously grac’d with a dainty fine Nose, fasten’d
in the Middle; which was not like some
Snouts that look more upon one Cheek, than
they do upon the other, but shew’d equal Prospect
to both, not at all disobliging the Right, by
fleering too much on the Left. And then for her
Eyes, they are excellent at twiring, and would
(I warrant you) be sure to keep the Nose safe,
for one look’d one Way, and the other, another.
The Woman had a Mouth too, which was somewhat
bigger than that of a Blunderbuss, tho’ not
twice as big as the capacious Bore of a Winchester
Quart-pot. This Mouth, she put but to one Use,[22]
and that’s the same we put ours to, that is, to
eat three or four Meals in a Day; for it seems,
whereas other Women often use theirs in Prating
and Twatling, we perceiv’d, that this
sav’d her Mouth, and spake through the Nose.
As I have given you the Picture of her Person,
so now I’ll present you with a Landskip of her
Fortune. As for her Lands, that is, Pasture-Ground,
and Meadow, we could not discern,
but that (like a Spot upon the Globe) they
took but little Room upon the Surface of the
Earth; and (like the Possessions of Alcibiades)
were but a little Speck to the World. A little
Muck would dung her Fallow; one high Table
T⸺ (to speak in the Oxford Dialect) would
much enrich it, and an Ear of Corn would go
near to sow it: ’Tis like, she had Grass enough
for a Couple of Rabbits. Having surveyed the
Paramour, and the Portion of this snivelling
Cobler, after a Treble go-down out of a Tin-Pot,
a right Line Scrape with Left-Leg, and uncouth
Doffing off a bad Bonnet, I return’d his Coblership
Thanks for his Society, and solemnly took
Leave of my Fellow-Traveller.
After this Departure, I was forc’d to beguile
away the Time in the shady Solitude of silent
Thoughts, which, before, I spent in the brisker
Entertainments of Discourse and Dialogue. At
length I came into Cambridgeshire, some Parts
whereof seem’d to be a little Arabia of Sand, enough
(as I thought) to supply all the Hour-Glasses
in the County; nay, perhaps, and that
of Time too, till the last Minute. Arriving at
the University of Cambridge, I lay at Jesus College,
in the Garden of which Place, I discover’d among
some Ruins, the Snout, and some other Limbs[23]
of a murder’d Dial; yet it was not so defac’d,
but that I could discover in its Physiognomy, some
martyr’d Figures, that were yet legible, and there
were some Reliques of Lines, that were not quite
obliterated by Time, who, I presume, being vext
that it should observe his Motions, had out of Envy
and Malice, thus far set his Grinders in it, to
deface it. Here, the Students, at Oxford, would
be as drunk as any Woman, outswear a Life-guard-Man,
or Horse-Grenadier; and eat, drink,
and lie with any Body. But when I saw whole
Shoals of great hulking Fellows, in such ragged
Gowns, that our London Bunters would scorn to
pick ’em up, flocking about the Kitchen-door,
some with Basons, some with Porringers, some
with Pipkins, some with Pans, some with Chamber-Pots,
and some with their very Caps, to
beg College Broth; I thought the Scene a very
lively Resemblance of poor Lazarus, begging for
the Crumbs which fell from the Table of Dives.
Hence, I went into Huntingdonshire, which is a
very proper County for unsuccessful Lovers to
live in; for upon the Loss of their Sweethearts,
they will here find an Abundance of Willow-Trees,
so that they may either wear the Willow green,
or hang themselves, which they please; but the
latter is reckon’d the best Remedy for slighted
Love. Passing through Godmanchester, I rambled
to Watford in Hartfordshire, near which Town, formerly
stood Langley-Abbey, the Birth Place of
Nicholas Breakspear, who in the Year 1154, being
advanc’d to the Papal Dignity, assum’d the Name
of Adrian IV. and tho’ he had been a poor Servant,
was so proud, as to excommunicate an Emperor
of Germany, a Sicilian King, and the Senators
of Rome; for these Popes are sawcy Fellows,[24]
when they come to wear triple Crowns, as Kings
of Heaven, Earth, and Hell; which last Place,
they have enjoy’d by Hereditary Right and Succession,
many Ages before the Reign of Pope
Joan.
Going next into Essex, which is as subject to
Agues, as the Hundreds of Drury is to the Pox,
and the whole County much noted for its excellent
Calves, but the biggest of that Sort of Cattle
are the Inhabitants. I pass’d through Colchester,
and crossing the County, got into Staffordshire,
where being inform’d at the City of Lichfield,
that the Thief-taker-General of England first
receiv’d his damn’d stinking Breath in that County;
I did not care for staying long there, for
Fear, the Change of this Air should make me as
vile, and double corrupted a ⸺ as himself.
In case it should be this Fellow’s good Fortune to
dance at Tyburn, betwixt Heaven and Earth, as
being unworthy of either, the Ordinary of Newgate
may give this Account of him in his dying
Speech; how that his Parentage was very obscure
and mean; his Livelihood at first was obtaining
Charity from Milk-Maids, and other
Country Lasses, by squeezing pretty Ditties out of
the Womb of a Bladder, with a Piece of Packthread;
and if he should prove so harden’d at the
Gallows, as to make no larger Confession of himself,
set him down (like Paul Lorrain) obstinate. In
fine, he had such a bad Character among his own
Country-Men, that some said, it was great Pity
he had not been hang’d as soon as he was breech’d;
whilst others reply’d, that he ought never to die,
but be toss’d from D⸺l to D⸺l, till there
was no Hell left to toss him in any longer.
I soon made the best of my Way into Shropshire,
where, at a little Town, or rather Village,
call’d Woor, happen’d a sad Misfortune; for a certain
Glass-Case, by Reason of the Rudeness of
two lusty Pusses, but whether affrighted at their
Catterwauling, or it being not able to bear them
in the Acts of Love, I cannot tell which, but
certain it was, it let go its Hold, and after a dismal
Manner, came blundering down, attended with
the Ruin of several Jiggumbobs, and Jimcracks, as
the Ivory Gums of a toothless Comb, a little
bottle-breech’d Glass replenish’d with Love Powder;
a Brace of blind Needles, that lost their Eyes
in the Fall; a double Scut of a Hare ty’d up with
a single Packthread; the latter End of an old
Broomstick; the Butt End of an old Sugar-Loaf;
the true Lovers Knot made in Wire, a square bit
of Tin, the Margin of a broad Hat, one Finger-Stall,
two Taggs, a Fescue made of Brass Wire, a
crack’d Glass with a Club-Foot, the Skin of an
Onion stuft with Arsenick, and one Whisker of a
bearded Arrow. But as one Misfortune seldom
comes alone, so this was attended with another,
for a young Salopian Lass who was the Proprietor
of these Things, took the Accident of them so
much to Heart, that she very decently hang’d
herself, to the no small Comfort, to be sure, of her
Parents, who had six or seven Children, besides
this unhappy Daughter, whom nobody could
blame for this Piece of Rashness; for is it not a sad
Thing to lose so commodious a Place, to lay pretty
Things in, and all by the Misdemeanour of two
unmannerly Cats? For where could this poor
Creature afterwards have laid her Gally-Pots,
Gums, and Pomatum? Had these Mousehunters
only eas’d Nature there, and then jingerly departed,[26]
they had been very excusable, but first to
come slily into a Ladies Chamber, and then to
squabble and fall out there, and in the Midst of
their Quarrel to pursue one another to the Top of
a Shelf, and there to renew the Battle again, and
to box one another ’till they fell themselves, and
demolish’d that very Thing which supported them
in their bickering, as the Fool in the Fable saw’d
off the Bough he sat on, Oh! this is a very sad
Thing indeed, and would make any other young
Woman, who had no more Sense then she, hang
herself likewise.
But bidding Adieu to the proud Salopians, I
went into Cheshire, where the Towns ending much
upon the Wich, as Nantwich, Middlewich, Northwich;
I thought they affected the Dutch Way of
putting one Name to the End of their Towns, as
Rotterdam, Schiedam, Amsterdam, and so forth.
In the City of Chester, I happened to lie at a
Physician’s House, whose Pretences to Learning
were very great, but by our Conversation, I
found him to have more Stomach than Brains,
and therefore was more like to have more Consolation
in the Kitchin, than in a Study; for there,
perhaps he might find a Jobb of Work for his
Grinders; whereas he knew not what to do with
his Books, unless he should act the Moth, and eat
them. I perceiv’d his Parts to lie more towards
the Powderingtub, than his Pharmacopeia; for
whilst he was busy in the former, he might keep
himself alive, but when he read in the latter,
he would kill his Patients. We had some roast
Beef for Supper; and I commonly found him
within an Inch of the Dripping-pan, with an Acre
of Bread in his Hand, which he call’d a Sop,
and with it, when my Back was turn’d, he usually
spung’d up the Dripping, whereby he cheated[27]
Sir-Loyn, and robb’d his Knighthood of its
due Moisture. Hence, I went into the County of
Northumberland, where I found Newcastle, almost
entirely surrounded with Coal Pits, whence seeing
Myriads of Men, as black as Old Nick, ascending
out of the subterranean Shops, upon the Surface
of the Earth, I imagin’d them to have been so
many Cyclops who had been helping Vulcan to forge
Thunderbolts for Jupiter. Not liking the Conversation
of these English Negroes, I stept over the
River Tine into the County of Durham, where,
in the City bearing the same Name, I lay one
Night; and next Morning taking my Leave of
my Landlady, about half a Mile from the Town,
I saw a Church-Yard, where was a whole Herd
of Swine a routing, as if they had been turn’d
in on Purpose to root up Christians, as they are in
the Fields in Italy, to dig up Turfles. A little
Wall lay sculking about this Territory of the
dead, which I suppose, was plac’d there as a Bulwark
to their Ashes; but it prov’d but a feeble
Fence against the Intrusion of the Lambs, who
made frequent Capreols into this silent Dormitory:
The Mound was rais’d a little, capt with
Turf, and environ’d with the Hollowness of a
good handsome Ditch; but yet, neither Cap, nor
Ditch could keep these Animals from leap-frogging
over them, from grazing in a Charnel-House,
and from turning a Cœmitery of Shades,
and Ghosts into a feeding Pasture of hungry
Beasts.
At last, I got into Yorkshire, where, beyond
Northallerton, meeting with a Herdsman, I was
almost frighted out of my Wits, for this Fellow
was a strange Creature, wonderfully Goth’d, and
be-Vandall’d, even to Barbarity itself. He was[28]
really a Clown in grain, an uncultivated Boor,
a Beast of the Herd in Humane Shape. I propos’d
a Query or two about the Genius of the
County; he told me the Soil was cold, and big
with Clay, and would doubtless yield a good
Harvest of Tobacco-Pipes; and as for the Inhabitants,
he said, they were a Pap-Pudding Sort of
People, much addicted to that vile Sort of Creature.
As he said, I saw a whole Table at a
Christening, spread with a Yard of Pudding,
and a Balk of Beef, a Ridge at one End and a
Furrow at the other; which did so wonderfully
work upon the Chaps of the Gossips, and make
their Mouths water, that the Godfathers and
Godmothers fell furiously to Snouting for some
few Morsels; mean while the two ear’d Pitcher,
that stood upon the Bench, was Mr. Prynn’d in
Scuffle, that is, lost a Lug in the Fray; and as I
was afterwards inform’d, the Distaff lost a Lock
or two of its flaxen Perriwig. The Women of
this Country are very coming, and are as great
Breeders, as any of our English Quakers; and as
for the Men, they are naturally born Thieves,
being as dextrous Rogues at Horse-Stealing as a
Serjeant at the Poultry, or Woodstreet-Compter in
selling Minutes dearer than a Watchmaker. But
among rational Wonders in a Village, where
I say, the most remarkable Wonder was
an eminent Cot-Quean, a meer Woman in the
Habit of a Man, a Kind of Mol Cut-Purse
Creature, an Epicene Animal of a twisted Gender,
who had a Petticoat Soul in a trunk-breech’d
Body, and scandaliz’d Virility, by Skill in Housewifery.
He spun (the Neighbours said) like a
Spider, and made his Wheel giddy by a swift
Vertigo. He was a learned Craftsman in the making[29]
of Diet, a notable Food-Framer, who buffeted
Cream, till he frighted it into a Consistence,
and then knocking it into Butter, squeez’d it
afterwards with Dexterity of Fist. He was also
endow’d with the Gift of tossing Pancakes, and
had a wonderful Knack at tempering the Materials
of a Bag-Pudding, insomuch, that he surpass’d all
the Dairy-Maids in the Milk-Pan Accomplishments;
and was also excellently well qualify’d
for a Meal-Tub Office. Here I tasted of the
Hospitality of this fœmasculine Wight, who
spread a Jointstool with several Sorts of Viands,
which though not very delicate, yet the Variety
might attone and make amends for their
Meanness. Here was the Epidermis of a Hog,
the outward Skin, call’d the Sword of Bacon,
which was infected with the Jaundies, for it
look’d very yellow; next, was the Hull of a
Pescod, plunder’d of its Pease, and corn’d with
Salt; some broken Fragments of Sheeps Trotters,
St. Laurenc’d on a Gridiron; the minc’d Spurs
of a bootless Cock, a skin’d Quadrant of soft
Cheese, well sawc’d with the Butt-ends of forked
Scallions; and the mouldy Reversion of an antiquated
Loaf, dipt in the Verdure Watercresses
Pottage, which afforded me the Refreshment of
a pretty Collation: After which I went to Bed,
and slept very sound till next Morning. When,
getting that Day, into Newark upon Trent, Nottinghamshire,
I was no sooner arriv’d into the Navel
of the Town, but I saw such an Assembly of
Provision as represented a Market, which was
unhappily disturb’d by an unfortunate Accident;
for a certain Bull of an uncertain Man, having
mistaken his Box, and taken Pepper in the Nose
instead of Snuff, and being enrag’d and heated[30]
by Virtue of the Spice, took a frisk about the
Cross, and empty’d by his Ramble all Stalls and
Panniers; so that this brisk Customer made a
scrambling kind of Dinner for the whole County;
for the Mob, alias the civiliz’d Rabble, was riding
upon one anothers Backs for Viands and Booty,
and was tumbling among the Ruins of Bakers,
Butchers, and Costermongers.
Hence I made a Pilgrimage to Grantham in
Lincolnshire, where a little out of Town I over took
a Fellow, who began to strike up with his Pipe,
and thinking he had but one, he presently perceiv’d
it to be multiply’d into an Organ, and
wonder’d (with the Bumpkin that pull’d at the
Bellows) that he had so much Harmony in him.
For you must know hereabouts dwelt a Thing
call’d an Eccho, who as soon as she heard Sol, fa,
whip! she improv’d the Melody into Noise and
Consort; presently increasing those single Notes
into the whole Gamut; and most neatly play’d
the Wag with the Tail of his Voice, being a very
pretty Songster, that sings well by the Ear. But
leaving the Piper by himself to solace with the
tatling Reverberation of Voice, I proceeded on
my Journey into Rutlandshire, the least County in
England, where at Oakham, the Shire-Town, is a
Custom, that when a Nobleman comes on Horseback
within its Precincts, the Inhabitants make
him pay the Homage of a Shoe from his Horse,
or take Money for it. And so exorbitant is this
Custom grown now, that if a Lady, be she as tall
as long Meg of Westminster, or as short as the little
Woman, that was carried formerly about the
Country in a Box, as fat as the Royal Sovereign
the largest first Rate Fire-Ship that sails Drury-Lane,
and the narrow Seas contiguous to it, or[31]
as lank as Pharaoh’s lean Kine, they would swear
she was a Flander’s Mare, and presently take toll
from her Foot. This Sharpness hath made most
of the Rutlandshire People, much addicted to the
Vice of Theft; every Thing sticks to their pitchy
Fingers; and they have such an attractive Virtue,
that wherever they come, all Things trot after
the Magnetism of their Persons. A Fellow squating
upon a Criket in a Room I was in, and rising
up from his Seat, the Stool on a Sudden (as
if tackt to his Backside) immediately march’d
after him, to the great Amazement of the Woman
of the House, who did not suspect, that his
Bum had Hands, or that her Stool so nimbly
could have us’d its Legs. Another espying a
Cylinder of Bag-Pudding pretty Thick in the
Waste, lolling upon the Table, whilst the Hostess
turn’d her Back, in the very twinkling of her
Head, pocuss’d it into Fob, and so shrouded its
Dimensions into a second Bag. Moreover observing
a joulter headed Fellow, looking very wishfully
at my Head, fearing he had some Design upon
what few Brains I had, to furnish his own
empty Noddle; I presently paid my Reckoning,
and made the best of my Way for London; where
I was no sooner arriv’d, but perceiving most People
murmuring at the great Indulgence then extended
to the Dissenters, I composed (at the earnest
Request of some Friends) the following Lines
on Toleration.
Religion! Now a meer fantastick Name,
The Heathens Glory, but the Christians Shame;
A Cloak for Hyprocites, the Tool of State,
And, to decoy dull Fools, the Levites Bait;
[32]
Thy Lustre was not tarnish’d in the Time
When Vice was ill, and Virtue was no Crime?
When holy Folks from Sin for Refuge fled,
And no Dissention in Opinions bred.
In the first Infancy of humane Race,
The World was overshadowed with Grace;
The very Light of Nature Goodness taught,
And humble Vot’ries to the Altar brought;
Where Hecatombs, no longer doom’d to live,
Sincere Devotion did to Heaven give.
Again, the Jews were not so very blind,
But they in Rites and Types cou’d Blessings find;
Mosaic Customs, and Levitic Rules,
Was all the Doctrine of the Rabbins Schools:
In mystic Rites, and ceremonial Laws,
With God and Angels they cou’d plead their Cause.
But now the Temple-Veil is drawn aside,
Which did the Truth in Hieroglyphicks hide,
The great Messiah, by a wond’rous Birth,
From Heaven came, to preach to Men on Earth;
Whose sacred Sermons shew’d the certain Way,
How all the World Jehovah must obey:
And by his seamless Garment we may see,
One only Faith does please the Deity.
[33]
So Toleration’s but a Wile, to draw
Dissenters from the Gospel and the Law;
But none by such Indulgence will be shamm’d,
But Fools, that will in spite of Fate be d⸺’d.
THE
Comical Pilgrim,
OR,
Travels thro’ WALES.
Having had a Suit of Law in
Chancery, which was lost thro’ my
Lawyers Mismanagement, at the
Charge of twenty five Pounds out
of Pocket, I could not forbear making
the following Observations on
the Unhappiness of those People who go to Law.
Some are so zealous to ruin one another, that
Westminster-Hall is every Term made the Place of
Destruction. They fasten upon, worry and tear
one another; and he that gets the better, generally
pays so dear for his Victory that he had
better have sat down by the Loss. Not that I
would, with the Socinians, stretch that Command[35]
of our Saviour to his Disciples, to let the Coat go
after the Cloak, and make it a Sin against the Gospel,
for Christians to go to Law, any farther, than
that they should not contend for Trifles. Christianity
lays no Body open to be abus’d, and impos’d
upon, where a regular Remedy may be had. It
forbids doing as we would not be done by, and
obliges us to bearing and forbearing, rather than
to be litigious; but takes away no Body’s Property,
nor gives so much Countenance to Injustice,
as to disarm the oppress’d from recovering their
Right. Had going to Law been a Crime in itself,
it had never been permitted to the Jews.
They were allow’d it, and had Courts by divine
Appointment erected for the Determination, of
what belong’d to every Man. And it is too much for
a few singular Dissenters upon a Text, to take upon
themselves the putting a Bar to Christian Liberty,
which in all Ages has been admitted. Nor can
we see here that these Precepts of the Sermon upon
the Mount, be confin’d as some would have them,
to the first Ages only: That what was legal in
those Days, it is not the same now. It seems to
be from too much Inclination to the World, such
Expositions have been set up, that make a Difference
in Times and Seasons, as if the Precepts
of the Gospel were not always of the same Obligation;
and we could excuse ourselves in the
Contempt of them, because we are not the Persons
they were immediately deliver’d to.
Tho’ the litigious Humour of some Men richly
deserve a chargeable Remedy, there is yet a
Commiseration due sometimes to their Antagonist.
A Man may, whether he will or not, be engag’d
in these bloody Conflicts at the Suit of his Neighbour’s
Pride or Malice. And since the most peaceable
Temper may be oblig’d to complain of Oppression,[36]
or answer the Charge of Picque and Revenge;
’tis Pity but Justice were to be obtain’d
at a cheaper Rate, and a slight Wound may be
cur’d without Amputation, which nothing but a
Gangrene can justify. We could wish the Law
were less chargeable; that seeking Right were
not as bad as suffering Wrong: That the Avenues
to Justice were not to be set with Robbers, that a
Man must lose one Purse to recover another, and
be stript into the Bargain. Justice (we are told)
should be blind, and so we think she is, when she
can’t see the exorbitant Fees of her Attendants.
When to be let in and let out, costs so much Oppression,
nothing could have been severer. When
the Man that’s summon’d to answer in a litigious
Suit, must go thro’ so many Toils, and be so often
spung’d in his Passage, he might as well have
pass’d for Guilty, as pleaded Innocence: Like
the Christians in Turkey, who pay double Taxes
for their Religion, and hire infidel Moderation
to connive at their Patriarch’s Jurisdiction. Why
these Imposts were laid upon the Road to Justice,
we never could understand. How that can be
made out, we are much at a Loss. Which of the
liberal Arts or Sciences thrives upon the Fees of
Door-Keepers? Is copying and Abbreviation so
essential a Point to Learning, a Nation could
not have maintain’d a Character without it? Are
so many Lines a Sheet, and so many Words in a
Line, so Mathematical a Substraction of ones
Money, that the Credit of the Nation must rise
in Proportion to the Losses of the poor Meagre,
wasted Culprit? We are told too ’tis upon a politick
Account, to prevent Contention: That the
more difficult is the Way to Justice, the more
People are inclin’d to be quiet. If the Courts
were open to every Grievance, there would be[37]
Complaints without End. A Hog could not go
thro’ a Stone Yard, but the Law must be rais’d
against the Trespasser. A Man could not be an Hour
without a Subpœna or Attachment, if there was
Room for every Body’s Impertinence. ’Twould
prevent Contention as effectually, if the Person
in Fault were punish’d; if paying sufficient Cost
to the Adversary or Fine, were inflicted by the
Court upon a litigious Plaintiff, or roguish Defendant.
As the Cause stands, the Law is a Weapon for
the Proud, and revengeful. These may be in
the Right, at least have their Revenge, if their
Purse be the longest. So chargeable have been
the Methods of bringing Oppressors to Account,
so expensive the Armour to defend the Innocent,
that one may think the first Loss had been the
best, and the other wish he had let the Coat go
to him that had taken away the Cloak. There’s
a Revolution indeed of Estates, and where the
Law has broke one Family, it has rais’d another.
If the Desolation the Law has made, were recorded,
and the Ensigns of the Orphans and Widows
were hung up, whose forlorn Relations have
been press’d into the Service, there would be no
Room for those brought from the Danube and
Ramellies. ’Tis true, much may be said in Favour of
a mistaken Client, in Excuse of Ignorance, Passion,
and the like: But where a Man engages in a
Cause palpably litigious and unjust, he becomes
a Party to the Injustice, and deserves at least
equal Punishment with him he appears for. Thou
sawest a Thief, and consentedst unto him, is chargeable
upon the Pleader, as a Person concern’d.
Should these Maintainers of Learning be mercenary,
and like Sergeants at the Compter, gape at
every Retainer? Should they have an Indulgence[38]
to cross-bite an Evidence, to abuse the Adversary,
and rip up the Misfortunes of his Family,
and belch a few Witticisms instead of Arguments?
How shall the World maintain Reverence
to their Opinion? How shall we take them
for the Guides of Conscience, set aside the receiv’d
Interpretation of the Law, and believe them
when they say, The Case is alter’d? I shall say
no more upon this Point, but only use these
Words of our Saviour, Woe unto you also, ye Lawyers:
For ye lade Men with Burdens grievous to be
born, and ye yourselves touch not the Burdens with one
of your Fingers. Wo unto you Lawyers: For ye have
taken away the Key of Knowledge: Ye enter’d not in
yourselves, and they that were entring in, ye hindred.
Being quite surfeited with seeing the Legerdemain,
or hocus pocus Tricks of Madam Astræa, alias Justice,
the Day after Trinity-Term being, drest with Aurora,
nay before she had put on her Indian Gown, I set
out with the Sun in order to take a Pilgrimage into
Wales, who bearing me Company but little
while, withdrew into an Appartment behind a
Cloud, at whose Absence, the Heavens frowning
and contracting their Brows, did presently fall
a crying, and wept such plentiful Showers of
Tears that they moistned my Skin with the
Deluge of their Grief. At the End of 8 or 9
Days, I reach’d Wales, which is the most monstrous
Limb in the whole Body of Geography;
for ’tis generally reported to be without a Middle,
or if it hath a Navel, it is yet a Terra incognita;
for I never could find that ever any
Man dwelt there, the Natives confessing themselves
only Borderers. Surely the Reason why
they do so much affect the Circumference of their
Country, and abominate the Centre, is, because
they are asham’d of the Dominion; and indeed,[39]
’tis a Sign they have but a little Kindness for
their Nation, who (like unnatural Sons) run from
their Mother their Country, and when out of her
Embraces, never return again. A Welshman,
when once abroad, hath no more Tendency Home,
than a Stone an Inclination to fall upward:
He will trot o’er the Globe, and rather endure
the Affliction of any Exile, than the cruel Punishment
of being banish’d Home; if he is once on
this Side Dee, neither Hunger, nor Husks, nor
any Kind of Hardship shall drive him on the
other.
No sooner had I set my Feet upon Welsh Turf,
but in a little Time I found the Country was
tuckt in on all Sides with the Sea, except on
the East, on which Part it was ditch’d in from
England by that notable Delver, King Offa, King
of the Mercians: Over this Dike, if any Welshman
chance to skip with his Sword by his Side, by
King Harold’s Law, he was to lose a Branch of
his Body, i. e. his right Arm was lopt off by the
King’s Officers. Some think it had its Name
from its Godfather Idwallo, Son to Cadwallader,
who with a small Crew of Britons, at the Arrival
of the Saxons, hid themselves in this Corner.
Others suppose them to be the Spawn of the
Gauls, from whom they seem to be but a few Aps
remov’d; ap Galloys, ap Gauls, ap Wallois, ap Wales.
As for the Inhabitants, they are a pretty Sort
of Creatures, which when I saw, I was so far
from stroaking them with the Palms of Love,
that I was almost ready to buffet them with the
Fist of Indignation. They are a rude People,
and want much Instruction. Not one Welshman
is sharp, unless his Mother happens to pour Vinegar
into his Ear, when young. When I consider
the Soil from whence they sprang, and the[40]
Desarts, and Mountains wherein they wander,
I cannot but think, that greater Pains should be
taken in cultivating and manuring, in disciplining,
and taming them, in Regard ’tis harder for
a Bearward to teach Civility to the Beasts of
Africk, than those who come from a more mannerly
Country. I have been inform’d that they
were dug from a Quarry, and that they dwell
in a stony Land; so that if we compare this
Kingdom to a Man, as some do Italy to a Man’s
Leg, they inhabit the very Testicles of the Nation.
And I pray what are those but the vilest of Creatures
that breed as well in the Privities of the
greater British World, as those that are hatcht
in the Pudenda of the lesser? But whether Welshmen
are the Aborigines of their Country, as Crab-Lice
are the Autocthones of theirs, and proceed
only (like them) from the Excrements of their
Soil, I shall not here dispute. They are of a
boorish Behaviour, of a savage Physiognomy;
the Shabbiness of their Bodies, and the Baoticalness
of their Souls, and that, which cannot any
otherwise be exprest, the Welchness of both, will
fright a Man as fast from them, as the Odness
of their Persons invites one to behold them. Some
of them are such rude and indigested Lumps, so
far from being Men, that they can scarce be
advanc’d into living Creatures; nay they are such
unmanageable Materials, that they can scarce be
hewn into the Shape of Blocks; much Labour
and Art is requir’d therefore to make them Statues.
The whole Nation (like a German Family) is
of one Quality; for as every Lord’s Son is a Lord
in Germany, so every one is crown’d with the
Title of Gentleman here; so that hur Country
is a good Pasture for an Herald to bite in. In[41]
their Travels they care not much that their
Horses should drink with a Toast, as appears by
the which a Shinkin discover’d, whom his quaffing
Beast had pitch-pol’d into a River. Udsplutter-a-nails
quoth he in great Fury, what cannot
hur drink without a Toast? He took it much in
dudgeon, that the Jade should be so bold as to
make a Sop of his Master.
The Materials of his Apparel are usually a
well shagg’d Freeze, so that we cannot call it
sleepy, being fleec’d with a Nap like any Sheep-Skin:
It affords excellent Harbour to the Vermin
of his Body, which whether it be stockt
with Store of Joicements of them, he commonly
signifies by the Symbol of a Shrug. The Perfection
of a Welshman’s Equipage, the Cream (as
it were) of his Accoutrements, and that which
compleats ever his most festival Attire, is (as the
Story goes) an old Sword of hur nown breeding,
which hur hath brought up from a Tagger: And
this he can brandish with much Valour against
the tremenduous on-set of dragooning Bees; a
kind of Enemy which the Taffy is much afraid
of, in Regard he is always arm’d with a Pike in’s
Reer, which once upon a Time fastening in his
Forehead, broach’d such a Pore in his Physiognomy,
that he could never endure those hum-buzzing
Gentlemen (as he calls them) in yellow
Doublets.
The Country is mountainous, and yields pretty
Handsome clambering for Goats, and hath Variety
of Precipice to break ones Neck; which a
Man may sooner do than fill his Belly, the
Soil being barren, and an excellent Place to
breed a Famine in. It is reported of Campania,
that it was the most noble Region in the[42]
World, the Air pleasant, the Soil fertil, the
Theatre of Bacchus and Ceres, where they were at
fisty-cuffs for the Preheminence: But I perceiv’d
no such Scuffle in Wales; for those Deities are so
far from fighting there, that I could not discern
they were so much as ever there; there being
scarce Water and Oatmeal to give a Man Being.
I could not expect Egypt and the Canaries Buts
and Granaries to give me a well Being: There
is no Canaan to be found in a Desart. As for
the Diet of a Briton, a good Mess of Flummery,
and a Pair of Eggs, he rejoyces at, as a Feast,
especially if he may close his Stomach with
toasted Cheese, for a Morsel of which he hath
a great Kindness. You may see him pictur’d sometimes
with that Crevice in his Head call’d a
Mouth, charg’d at both Corners with a Cresent
of Cheese, and himself a Cock-Horse on a red
Herring, and his Hat adorn’d with a Plume of
Leeks: Good edible Equipage! Which when
hunger pinches, he makes bold to nibble; he
first eats his Cheese and his Leeks together, and
for second Course he devours his Horse. But
he never much cared for a Sop, since once upon
a Time it drank up all his Drink, and would
not club to pay his Shot.
The Cambro-Britons are great Admirers of heroick
Actions, and much Honour the Memory
of famous Atchievements; insomuch, that rather
than a dead-doing Man shall perish in Oblivion,
they will eternize his Memory by the
Monument of a Straw, or some such inconsiderable
Trifle; as appears by the famous Example
of that Saint of their Country, Bishop David, who
being a pert Fighter, and having soundly basted
and swadled their Foes, is at this Day consecrated[43]
to Posterity by the Trophy of a Leek; and
smells as rank of Renown from that vegetable
Preservative that embalms his Fame, as they
do of a Scallion that carry it about for his Glory.
Their Hats are set with this anniversary Badge,
and Emblem of Honour and Triumph, on the first
of March, which Day hath been christen’d by
his Name, and being dubb’d an Holyday, hath
worn yearly a black Livery in the Almanack.
Nevertheless, the Welchmen being cursedly thick-scull’d,
they are so far from being Plotters, that
they swear they will never fight for any King
upon Earth, but the Prince of Wales; because
there can be no true Royal Blood running in
the Veins of any great Man, but what borrows
his Title from their Country, let him be born
where he will: And considering what wicked
plotting Times we now live in, no Body can
blame them for their Cautiousness of being hang’d;
for tho’ it is a Death natural to them, yet they
say, sleeping in a whole Skin is best. Not that
they value hanging, but only they abhor the
Death, unless the Office is perform’d a by a Welch
Hangman, instead of an English one.
They are much inclin’d to Choler, for hur
Welch Plood is soon mov’d, and then hur stamp
and stare, and scrat hur Pole, and vent hur Fury in
Ud-splutter-a-nails, and will fight for hur Life in
Battle at fisty-cuffs. They are polite in nothing
but Faction and Sedition, for there are high and
low Church Parties among them too, which occasions
much Contention and Quarrels.
The Musick a Welchman plays upon, is a Tool
stiled an Harp, with which, when Sustenance
fails him, he strikes up for a Morsel, and so lives[44]
by Sounds, and (Camelion like) hath Alimony
from Air. He serenades Victuals in every Village,
as the pide Piper did Rats at Hamel, and
he allures Luncheons after him, as much as the
other did Vermin: Here a Nob of Bacon wags
after him, for one Strain; and there a Crust follows
him, as the Reward of another; one hits him
in the Mouth with the Payment of Pottage, another
pops him in the Pocket with the Gratuity
of a Carrot; all which Variety of Fragments
is the most ample Income, and wonderful Revenue
of his Skill in Musick. His usual Admirers
are Country Milk-Maids, whom Vibration of
String doth move and stir into Jigg and Measure;
and whom Breeze of Instrument (like those in
Tail) do chase and tickle into Dance and Caper.
I could not perceive that the Welch were guilty
of much Learning, which made a Man skill’d in
Orthography admir’d as a Sophy; and a Writer
of his Name, to be term’d a Rabbi. As for the
Loves of the Britons, the Intrigues of their Amours
are not a little remarkable, they being very pretty
Animals when disguis’d with that Passion:
They are Tinder to such Flames, being quickly
set on fire, even by the least Spark, which when
it hath catch’d the Match of their Souls (for they
have Brimstone in them as well as in their Bodies)
they are presently kindled into Transport and
Extasy; and these model them into the Shapes
of a thousand Anticks, and make them shew more
Tricks than old Preston’s Bears. Sometimes they
are shaking the Globules of their Noddles, and
sometimes dancing some Geometry with the Figures
of their Feet; now they smite with Clapper
of Fist their troubled Breasts, and anon
sound out some Knels of dismal Groans; being[45]
variously affected as the Weather is in their Clorinda’s
Faces; if Aspect be clear, then is Taffy
serene; if brow be cloudy, then is Morgan Showry.
Whilst I was in this Country, I heard of a Welchman
that went a wooing with a Gun upon his
Shoulder, being resolv’d (it seems) if Love be
a Warfare, not to enter unarm’d into the Camp
of Venus; still as his coy Daphne shifted from his
Presence, he march’d musketeering about the Room,
and most fiercely pursu’d her, till at last in the
brisk Encounter of a close Embrace, this warlike
Instrument took an Occasion somewhat unmannerly
to go off, and blunderbuss’d the Mistress on
her Breech on one Side of the House, and poor
Taffy on his Nose on the other; so that being
much dismay’d at this unhappy Accident, one
scrabled one Way, and the other another, to the
utter spilling of a Mess of Love, and total Separation
of a Pair of Lovers for ever.
They are pretty devout in their Worship, tho’
the Exercise of Religion is somewhat scarce, and
have a pretty glowing Zeal, tho’ their Churches
are few, and at a great Distance. ’Tis almost
incredible how far they are fain to trudge for a
little Homily; which when they have expected,
have been mump’d with a Sermon ten Times
worse. For on such raw-bone Livings, there cannot
be expected very plump Parts. The ordinary
Revenue of a spiritual Preferment may possibly
be about five Marks per Annum; a Bay of Watling
for a Dwelling, endow’d with no more Glebe
than just what it stands upon, only perhaps it
may be how-stall’d with as much Ground as may
hold a Sty for the Pig, and a Roost for the Pullen.
These divine Cottages are usually situated
some Leagues from the Temple, so that the[46]
Holy Man with Crab-Tree Truncheon sets out
with the Sun, and stretches his Legs with a good
handsome Walk, before he arrives at the Pulpit to
stretch his Lungs, and wears out much of his Soles
before he can reach his Stall to mend their Souls,
Their Houses of Prayer are generally thatcht Tabernacles,
which are wainscoted towards the East
with little Desks, like Pounds, where Levite imprison’d
for about half an Hour, fodders the poor
Taffies with some melancholy Tear-fetching Story
about a grim Fellow call’d Death, who ambles
Folks on his Back into another World; a Thing
which he heard from the oracular Gums of his
edentulous old Granum, as she sate on the Settle
in the Chimney-Corner. Some of the most reverend
Rectors are dignify’d with a Stipend of six
Pounds a Year, besides the Perquisities of a Drum
and Fiddle; which well manag’d on a Holiday,
make up a very pretty Thing. Others have an
Augmentation of a Bull or a Bear, which being
solemnly baited about twice in a Quarter, do
pick pretty comfortable Tyth from the Spectators
Pockets, and makes the poor Parson’s Purse
to smile and mantle.
As far as I could perceive, the Welch People
love Holiday Fingers, and care not much for
encumbring them with that Inconvenience call’d
Work. They can (Shepherd like) loll upon a
Crook pretty handsomely in the Field, and can
discharge a Superintendency over the Goats. They
are most accomplish’d Drovers, to which laudable
Function they are so naturally prone, that
they are apt to drive sometimes more than their
own. They are much addicted to the Sin of Nastiness,
wallowing in Filthiness like so many Swine;
so that the whole Nation seems but a general[47]
Sty. The meaner Sort of Women are generally
such draggle Tails, that the Cattle in their Bosoms
are quag-mir’d in the Filth of their well-gleb’d
Attire; so that the frisking Fleas are so far
from Levalto’s, that I was verily persuaded they
can scarce pull out Proboscis, and their Feet from
the Bogs. The Tenements they live in are suitable
to the Guests that possess them; for as these
seem to be Dirt moulded into Men, so those are
the same Matter kneaded into Houses; they are
usually very humble Cottages, and low in Stature,
so that a Man may ride upon the Ridge, and yet
have his Legs hang in the Diet. I was not so
vain as to expect very splendid Furniture in such
contemptible Huts; but I soon perceiv’d what
Utensils were most necessary, a Dish-Clout and
a Besom, and such cleansing Implements are very
proper to correct the Filthiness of their Mansions.
I found no Apartments in these their Habitations,
every Edifice being a Noah’s Ark, where a promiscuous
Family, a miscellaneous Heap of all
Kind of Creatures did converse together in one
Room; the Pigs and the Pullen, and other Brutes
either truckling under, or lying at the Bed’s-Feet
of the little more refin’d, yet their Brother Animals.
But that which I admir’d most of all amongst
them, was the Virginity of their Language, not
deflowerd by the Mixture of any other Dialect.
The Purity of the Latin was debauch’d by the
Vandals, and hunn’d into Corruption by that
barbarous People; but the Sincerity of the British
Tongue remains inviolable. ’Tis a Tongue (it
seems) not made for every Mouth, as appears by
an English Gentleman one Day in my Company,
who having got a Welsh Polysyllable into his[48]
Throat, was almost choak’d with Consonants,
had I not, by clapping him on the Back, made
him disgorge a Guttural or two, and so sav’d
him. Whether the Welsh Tongue be a Splinter of
that universal one that was shatter’d at Babel, I
have some Reason to doubt, in Regard ’tis unlike
the Dialects that were crumbled there. However,
’tis now cashir’d out of Gentlemen’s Houses, there
being scarcely to be heard even one single Welsh
Tone in many Families; for their Children are
instructed in the Anglican Idiom, and their Schools
are pædagogu’d with Professors of the same; so
that (if the Stars prove lucky) there may be
some glimmering Hopes that the British Tongue
may be quite extinct, and may be English’d out of
Wales, as Latin was barbarously Goth’d out of
Italy.
But in fine, being quite out of Conceit with
the short Commons I met with in this Mountainous
Country, which was much inferiour to the
delicious Dainties of Water-Gruel, Bread and
Butter, and Small Beer, allow’d to the poor Lunaticks
of Bedlam, after they come to pig in
Straw, and have their Heads shav’d as an Introduction
to Phlebotomy, three or four Times a
Week, I e’en bade adieu to the miserable Taffies,
and made the best of my Way to England again,
to recover that Flesh in a plentiful Nation,
which I had lost in a Land of meer Poverty
and Famine.
THE
Comical Pilgrim’s Pilgrimage
INTO
SCOTLAND.
Being returned out of Wales into
England again, I was no sooner
got into London, but thro’ an avaricious
Temper, I soon began
to haunt most of the Gaming-Houses
in Town, which Day and
Night were as well cram’d as the Groom-Porter’s
Table. In these Schools of inevitable Ruin
and Destruction, I lost a great deal of Money,
and when too late to recover it, I began seriously
to reflect with myself, that let a Man be ever
such a good Gamester at Cards or Dice, yet so
many Sharpers were always flocking about him,
that they would drain his Pockets in spite of all
the greatest Favours of Fortune; or else how
could these Gaming-Houses clear sometimes
100 Pounds, but never less than 50 or 60 Pounds
a Night, besides paying Salaries to the several
Officers depending solely on them? For there
Commissioners are maintain’d by whom the Weeks
Accompt is Audited, viz. Directors, who Superintend[50]
the Room. Operators, or Dealers at Faro.
Croupees, to watch the Cards, and gather the
Money for the Bank. Puffs, who have Money
given them to play, in order to decoy others.
Clerks, who are Checks upon the Puffs, to see
that they sink none of that Money. Squibs, who
are Puffs of a lower Rank, having half their Salery;
Flashes, who sit by to Swear how often
they have stript the Bank; Dunners, or Waiters;
Attornies, or Sollicitors; Captains, who
are to Fight any Men that are Peevish, or out
of Humour at the loss of their Money; Porters,
who at most of the Gaming-Houses are Soldiers;
Ushers, who take care that the Porters
at the Door suffer none to come in but those
they know; and Runners, to get Intelligence of
all the Meetings of the Justices of the Peace,
and when the Constables go upon the Search:
Besides giving half a Guinea to any Link-Boy,
Coach-man, Chairman, Drawer, or other Person,
who gives Notice of the Constables being
upon the Search.
Now to break myself from this bewitched
Gaming, I bid adieu to Hazard, Backgammon,
Tick-tack, l’Ombre, Picquet, Cribbidge, and
Basset, and was resolved to take a Pilgrimage into
Scotland, where I found the Inhabitants addicted
to no sort of Game but One and Thirty,
at which they are as dextrous as a Milk-Maid
at Dancing on May-Day, with one Foot upon
the Ground, and t’other never off; for from
Fergus their first King down to Charles the First,
whom they Sold for a Sacrifice to Stratocracy
or Army Power, they had Murder’d no less than
Thirty One of their Sovereigns, which is just
the Game at Regicide: Hereupon to call them
Traytors is a Favour, for they will hatch Treason[51]
as soon as they do Chickens at Grand-Cairo, by
the Adoption of an Oven; but now the Scots are
bound to their good Behaviour, by a Union,
they ought to be as Circumspect in their Loyalty,
as the Ambassador that Beds a Queen, with
the nice Caution of a Sword between them.
It is said that Scota the Daughter of Pharaoh
King of Egypt, who was Drown’d in the Red-Sea,
gave Name to Scotland, when she went thither,
and betwixt which People and the valiant
English, a Quarrel continued longer than ever
did any between any other two Nations in the
World, for they have most obstinately contended
(like Rome and Carthage) for Empire above
2000 Years; which is the most tenacious Suit
that ever depended between any two People in
the Court of Mars. Since the Norman Invasion,
there have been 30 pitcht Battles betwixt
us and them; of which the English have obtain’d
of the Scots at least four for one, and those of
greatest Consequence. The South Part of Great-Britain
being Champian, hath been sometimes in
its Borders harrass’d, and laid wast by the Scots,
never possess’d, but their Country, defended by
inaccessible Hills, and by two invincible Enemies,
Hunger and Cold, hath been wholly reduc’d by
the English, who have Slain four Scotch Kings,
and took two Prisoners; whereas they have never
Slain nor took Prisoner one English King, to
whom the Kings of Scotland were Homagers for
a long Time.
Those Scots, who dwell by the Sea, dung their
Land with the Weeds which it casts on the
Shore; and all Women throughout the Country
in Writing use their Maiden Names after
Marriage. About the High and Solitary Hills
of Genap I saw good Store of Magpyes and[52]
Goats; but few Hogs, to whose Flesh they bear
as utter an Aversion as the Jews; and among
all their Flocks of Sheep, where you’ll see one
White, there’s ten Black, so that you may soon
know a Scotchman from a black Sheep. The farther
I Travell’d, I observ’d Geese were not over
plentiful; Parsnips very scarce; Venison not
to be had for want of Deer; Boys Knitted, and
Men, Women, and Children went bare-legg’d.
As for their Coyn, the most remarkable of
their Coyning is a Baubee, which is the value of
our Half-penny, bearing the royal Effigy on one
side, and on the Reverse the Thistle and Crown,
with this Motto, Nemo me impune lacessit. In
the Kirk-Yard at Girvan are several Carv’d
Grave-stones; and at the Kirk-Door in this
Town are fasten’d Jogs or Brad-Irons to Chains
three or four Feet long; which are put round
Persons Necks, who Swear, get Drunk, or break
the Sabbath. Thus by countenancing Religion
in allowing their Pastors to have an Authority
over Misdemeanors, it is that the tumultuary
Scottish Institution has gain’d Ground, and insinuated
itself into popular Credit and Esteem:
For on every Sunday, when the Office of the
Day is over, they have a Kirk-Sessions, wherein
the Minister, with a Number of his Congregation
Elected to that end, is Authoriz’d to
meet and take Cognizance, and to punish all
Offenders the foregoing Week. So some such
Authority, and a few more insulting Priviledges,
seem to be some of those Desiderata’s aim’d at
by our pretended Reformers of Manners in England,
to make up their Temporal Advantages,
under a specious show of designing to restore
the more Primitive and Christian Discipline.
But I hope this Age will never experience what[53]
it is to come under the Pharisaical Constitution
of such pious Cheats. Nevertheless, since
Knowledge without Virtue has abus’d the
World with too much Impiety, I applaud that
one Thing of the reforming Societies in England,
in putting poor Children out to Trades; for
of what Use is Learning (any farther than
Reading and Writing) to ordinary Vocations?
Whatsoever exceeds, is Useless, and makes
them Pragmatical: Moreover, as it is not their
Happiness to obtain Advantages of a more liberal
or academical Education, it will much
more commend the Goodness of their small
Breeding, that they have learnt to speak Truth
rather than Latin, which the Masters of our
Parish Schools understand not; and that they
are more knowing and exact in the Rules of
Justice (a transcendent Quality unknown to
some of their Benefactors) than the Distinction
of Languages.
In my Journey not far from the Town of
Ayre, many Sales are to be taken on the Sea-Coasts;
but on the Land not many Pidgeons,
nor great Store of wild Ducks: However, the
Country is well stockt with other sort of Foul,
as foul Plates, foul Dishes, foul Trenchers, foul
Knives, foul Forks, foul Napkins, and by Heavens
foul ever thing else, even to their very
Women, who you’ll see standing on a Saturday
by a lolling Wash-block, which is a Wooden
kind of Anvil, where the She-Vulcans are hammering
out with Battledore, or else with their
Feet in a washing Tub, the Filth of Linnen,
whose unctious Distillations are the Nile that
water’d the little Egypt of their adjacent Gardens.
Staring very earnestly with all the
Eyes that I had, as if looking thro’ a Perspective[54]
Glass, I perceiv’d every Scotchman’s Face
usually bubbled into Bubbles and Pustulees, besides
the natural Hout-goust of Body that
breath’d from Oatmeal, which made him send
forth an Artificial Smell, which you might
wind as far as the extream Unction of 20 Romish
Funerals, only the Scent is not so Sweet;
besides the bonny Scot smells as rankly of the
single Stink of Brimstone, as a Goldfinder, alias,
Tom-Turd-Man of a Medley; for a scurvey
Disease, commonly call’d the Scrubbado, otherwise
the Itch, makes frequently an Inroad into
his Person, and invades his Body; so that he is
forced to choak his Enemy by Stink of Sulphur.
’Tis a Creeping Distemper, whose Progress is
checkt by Mortification, so that when he leaves
off his Shirt, that is, when it leaves him, and
can hang on no longer, it is excellent Furniture
for a Tinder-Box, as virtually containing in it
both Match and Tinder.
The common People wear Plads and Bonnets,
which is a great Fashion in this Country, where
the Postman goes a Foot; and poor Folks eat
the Stalks of raw Kale. The Elders of the
Kirks on Saturday night duly haunt the Ale-houses,
which they call Changes, to turn out
People to prepare themselves for the Sabbath;
and Women here ride astride, without any Danger.
The Kirks or Places of Worship have all
one Bell, rung by an Iron Chain; but put at
either End of the House of Prayer, without any
Distinction of East or West, so that Travellers
must not look upon their diminutive Steeples
for the Guide of a true Course to the Compass.
At the University of Glascow, which like their
other poor Universities has but one College, I
saw no other Learning but the insipid Collegians[55]
wearing red hanging-sleev’d Gowns; and
the Cathedral here was built by one Mr. Mongou,
I can’t call him Saint, because he was the
Son of a Whore begot by a Danish Prince on a
Scotch King’s Daughter. Because our main or
chief Gallows in England, call’d Tyburn, hath three
Beams, and which is famous for stocking the
Romish Calendar for roguish Saints, the Scotch to
exceed us will have four Beams on their hanging
Places, made in the manner of a Turn-Stile;
having on each Beam an Iron Hook, on which
the Malefactor is to be expos’d in a pendent Posture
betwixt Heaven and Earth, as being unworthy
of either. The Men for the most part
wear Stockings made of Plad-Stuff; and their
Quarters are Candlemas-Day, May-Day, Lammas-Day,
and All-hallow Tide, which are as welcome
to their Landlords as our Quarter-Days are among
us.
Bad Cooks are every where in this Nation,
because they have seldom any Victuals to dress;
and the Childrens Cradles here made of old
Wainscot without Heads to them. The Scots
have several old Ways to distinguish themselves
from Christians, for their Chimes always ring
before the Clock strikes; instead of Candles
they burn in most Places the Shavings of Fir
dipt in Tallow; their Spoons are generally
made of Horn quite circular or round, about
3 Inches Diameter, with the Length of the Handle
suitable to its Circumference, which Largeness
(I suppose) they take from the old Proverb,
He must have a long Spoon that eats with the Devil;
and those People that can but fill their Bellies
with thin Bannock, Sourings, or Bruis, which
last sort of Food is only raw Oatmeal put into
Water when it’s warm, and thought by them a[56]
great deal better than to dine with Duke Humphrey.
Hemp and Flax for Linnen are the Staple
Commodities of this Nation; but the Scots bear
a mortal Hatred to the former, because by the
Production thereof, a great many of ’em come
to an untimely End.
When I came into the City of Edinburgh,
which is the Capital of the Kingdom, I thought I
was got into West-Smithfield, for such a Place
for Nastiness was not to be found upon Earth,
for as the latter was but fill’d with Beasts Dung,
the other was more nasty than a common Jakes
or Inns-of-Court House of Office, for having a
Dung-Tub at the Head of every Pair of Stairs
in their Houses, which are 14 or 15 low Stories
high, they are emptied a-nights on Peoples
Heads without any respect of Persons, so that
till 8 or 9 o’ th’ Clock in the Morning, the
whole City, which may be a Mile in Length, is
scented with the excellent Perfume of Scotch
Civit Cats; and all the Woman here look as ugly
as the Four of Clubs, which some call Wibling’s
Witch, from one James Wibling, who in the
Reign of King James the First grew rich by private
Gaming, and was commonly observ’d to
have this Card in his Hand, so that he never lost
a Game but when he mist it.
All the Scots are generally as great Enemies to
Gentility and nice Dressing, as Diogenes the morose
Cynic was to Plato, because of his courtly
Compliance with the World; and to be honest
would be as great a Mortification to them as
Lent to a poor Player. They’ll sit as lovingly
about Oaten Cakes and Butter, as a Parcel of
Tarpaulins round a Platter of Burgue; and
they love Hunger and Ease, as well as a Lawyer
does Term-Time. Tho’ they hate the solemn[57]
Festival of Christmas, and other Holy-days, yet
they pay some Veneration to St. Andrew; and
will be as Drunk on the 30th of November, as any
Shoemaker once a Year to the Remembrance
of Crispin. They hold Fairs in many Places, at
which is much Mobbing, Whoring and Drunkenness
as at our Shirking-Fair by Tyburn: And
Mrs. Cicilia, they say, is no Saint, but a common
Strumpet bred up at a Three-penny Hop
in London. I never saw the Sign of the Brats-Tumbler
any where, which makes me believe
every Scotch Woman brings her Urchins into
the World, without the Assistance of Madam
Grope, to save Charges; on a Sunday Morning
the Scots will run 4 or 5 Miles to a Conventicle;
and in the Afternoon to the Mountains
to louse themselves.
It is suppos’d by some, that Scotland is the
Land of Nod, to which Cain was exil’d a Vagabond
for the Murther of his Brother Abel; and
truly in my Opinion the Supposition may be
Very probable, for Cain’s being an Inhabitant
there, the Ground hath been curst ever
since, for it is a most barren Place to this very
Day. Had grazing Nebuchadnezzar been here,
he would have found but bad Pasture; and Judas
as much plagu’d for a Tree to hang himself
on. Bag-Pipes they esteem before Organs;
there’s as much Hypocrisy in their Pantile-Houses
as Irreligion in a Jews Synagogue; and
the Dog-Days are not so warm here as in more
Southerly Climates, but their Bitches Nights
every where are too hot with a Vengeance.
Here is every Day an Autumn among the Women;
for, for a Noggin of Brandy they will
fall as thick on their Backs as the Leaves in St.
James’s Park do in September; and Law and[58]
Equity are as great Strangers to the Scots, as Honesty
to the Justice of Peace that’s lately run
from Clare-Court to the Mint, and who (when
in Commission) was fitter to sit on a Butcher’s
Block, as his Father did before him, than in a
Magistrate’s Chair.
The Castle at Edinburgh is reckon’d as impregnable
as a Scotchman’s sear’d Conscience;
and their Capital contains but one Broad Street,
by which is an University containing one College
of Scholars poor both in Purse and Head.
Here are no Carts, but sliding Cars; and the
highest Number I ever saw on their Hackney
Coaches exceeded not 29. The Scots reckon
their Children spurious if they have not the
Itch; and there’s as much Whoring every Day,
as at Bartholomew or Southwark Fair. They
Bury the Dead at Noon, to save the Charge of
Torches; and as here are no Linkmen, only
Boys and Girls light Passengers with Candles in
Paper Lanthorns all about Town for a Baubee.
Most of the People are generally of the Religion
with them who marry without a Ring,
Christen without the Cross, and Die without
Baptism. Their Pastors, who are of the true
Stamp of Geneva, endeavour by long extemporary
Prayers and tedious Graces, to save the poor
Souls of those Mountaineers; but yet their Hypocrisie
Damns more than ever Sampson Slew,
and with the same Weapon too, the Jaw Bone of
an Ass. The Presbyterian Government is uppermost
here; which Religion being a good quiet
Subject, I could not forbear setting forth the
Piety of a Scotch Presbyterian, in the following
Lines.
Christians, behold a most pernicious sight,
Which worse than Hell wou’d dying Martyrs fright!
Such Monsters Africk never did produce;
Nor Lucifer, when all his Imps broke loose,
To win, by force of Arms, celestial Sway,
But, unsuccessful, lost the fatal Day:
And if its Name by any shou’d be ask’d,
It is a Presbyterian unmask’d.
His Eyes at Vice look sad, and full of Woe,
Yet Heart and Tongue together never go;
His Words in Conventicles virtuous be,
But nauseous, when at Home, to Modesty.
To seem Dovout, he hates all common Whores,
But those which Ply in Private much Adores.
He trembles when a first Rate Oath he hears;
But Perjury his Int’rest seldom fears.
In solemn Leagues and Covenants he takes
Delight; but greater in the Vows he breaks:
And as informing is his darling Trade,
He is a godly Man in Masquerade.
In fine, he’s Born, he Lives, and Dies in Sin;
A Saint without, and Devil all within:
Nay, as his Sanctity’s a pious Fraud,
Which none but Knaves and Villains can applaud,
He is all Hypocrite, and what is worse!
The Scorn of Men, and God’s eternal Curse.
A Scotchman’s Tongue runs high Fullams, there
is a Cheat in his Idiom; for the Sense ebbs from
the bold Expression, like the Citizen’s Gallon in
London, which the Drawer interprets but half a
Pint. As they never speak as they think, their
false Tongues may be compar’d to the Cards at
Primiviste, in which Game 6 is 18, and 7 is 21.
The poorer sort have a piece of Linnen peeping
out at their Collars for show of a Shirt; but
with long wearing it is so black and ragged,[60]
that it is going to the Paper-Mill as fast as it
can. When the Beasts enter’d into the Ark by
Pairs, I wonder how Noah coupl’d the Scots, for
they are strange Creatures both by Sea and
Land; and an Ass is scarce to be had in this
Nation either for Love or Money, because they
put ’em all into Commissions of the Peace. They
retain one barbarous Custom still, and that is,
if any two be displeas’d they expect no Law,
but bang it out, one and his kindred against the
other and his; being so implacable in their hatred,
that on each side they use a Scale of Destruction,
by striving to ruin the Father, beggar
the Son, and strangle the Hopes of all Posterity:
And this Fighting they call their Feider,
a Word so barbarous, that was it to be express’d
in Latin, it must be by Circumlocution.
Their ill Manners make them look more salvage
than the Monsters put by Astrologers to
the Humane Limbs in Anatomy; wherefore it is
strange that Physicians do not apply a Scotchman
to the Soles of the Feet in a desperate Fever,
for he would draw far beyond Pidgeons; and it
is thought some of our English Quacks, Empericks
or Mountebanks will slice one to try the
Experiment. The Scots were ever as great
Friends to the King of France, as Don Quixot
was to Sancho Pancho, who fought at all Adventures
to purchase the other the Government
of an Island which was none of his; and they
think themselves as brave Fellows as the Spanish
Knight Errant, when he fought a Windmill, to
the great Danger of breaking the Necks of him
and his Horse Rosinante, when it flung ’em both
into a Pond. Their Godliness is of the same
Parentage with good Laws, both extracted out
of bad Manners; and their Teachers live upon[61]
the Sins of their Congregations, which verifies
the Axiom, Iisdem nutritur ex quibus componitur.
They dread to be civiliz’d; and they
have a great Antipathy against Church Windows
which are painted, when a Looking Glass
would shew them more Superstition: In fine, a
Scotchman is such a Hater of Images, that he
hath defac’d God’s in his own Countenance.
THE
Comical Pilgrim’s Pilgrimage
INTO
IRELAND.
Having seen too much Villany
in Scotland to pay the least
Adoration to the Country, I return’d
to London again, and after
a short Stay there went for
Highlake in Cheshire, where going
on Board the Seaforth Gally, Sail was presently
hoisted, and in a few Hours bidding Adieu to
the Sight of Old England and Wales, we came
to Anchor in the Bay of Dublin very early on a
Whitsun-Monday in the Morning. Here I went
ashore at Dunlary, and being got safe in that
Part of Terræ firmæ, which, I think, is situated
in podice Mundi, I went Five Miles farther to
DUBLIN, the Metropolis of Ireland, standing
on the Liffie River, as well as the Sea. This
Country is seperated from England by a very
dangerous Sea, in which meeting with a most
dreadful Hurricane, as soon as the tempestuous
Weather was over, my Muse incited me to delineate
the Seamens Devotion in bad Weather,
in the following Meditation.
When Nature shews the Seaman various Forms
Of Death, in Tempests, Hurricanes, and Storms,
The Ship in Danger, Master, or the Mate,
Cries, Reef the Sails before it is too late;
We cannot bear ’em in this Stress of Weather,
Up nimbly, Boys, G⸺ d⸺ you, all together.
A Sailor from the Fore-Mast-Top bauls out,
By G⸺ there’ll be no Calm to Day, I doubt;
Then answers one, who’s on the Main-Yard Arm,
Z⸺ds, Lads, as yet we have receiv’d no Harm.
But next another cries, G⸺ d⸺ my Soul,
How cursedly the rotten Bitch do’s rowl!
Whilst here do’s split a Mast, there rent a Sail,
Another swears, by Heav’n the Ship do’s fail:
Some cry, G⸺ rot us, we shall all be drown’d,
The very Storm do’s rage the Compass round;
For steer which Way we will, the Wind do’s blow
Contrary to the Course we strive to go.
But hark! below Deck next a Man do’s speak,
And briskly swears, the Vessel springs a-leak;
Then how the Seamen helter-skelter jump,
To save the Ship and Cargo by the Pump;
Which useless grown, the Master says, I think
The Vessel founders, we begin to sink.
D⸺n ye, hoist out the Long-Boat, Wind defies
Our Art, the Gunhil under Water lies;
Come, leave the Whip-Staff; Lads, make hast, G⸺’s B⸺
Your Luffs nor Ports can do us now no Good.
Mean while the Chaplain, who shou’d for ’em pray,
Instead of praying, swears as fast as they:
And just on drowning, in one hideous Yell,
They curse their Fate, and swim with speed to Hell.
But being got upon firm Land again, as I said
before, I was very glad of visiting the Irish
Natives, tho’ they are not yet wholly brought[64]
to a civil Course of Life, thro’ the Fathers inflicting
an heavy Curse on all their Posterity, if
ever they should sow Corn, build Houses, or
learn the English Tongue: And the Reason of
this inveterate Antipathy is, because heretofore
there being but one Freeholder in a whole
County, which was the Lord himself, the rest
held in Villanage; and being subject to the
Lord’s immeasurable Taxations, they had no
Encouragement to build, sow, or plant. Ireland
is divided into 4 Provinces; namely, Munster;
Leinster, where Stonehenge once stood, but
by Magick Art Merlin remov’d those ponderous
Stones out of this Territory into Wiltshire;
Connaught, where are some Vines, but rather
serving for Shade than Profit, for in these
Parts the Sun entring into Virgo, causeth cold
Gales to blow, and in Autumn the Afternoon’s
Heat is so faint and short, that it cannot ripen
the Clusters; and Ulster, whose antient Custom
in making their King was by taking a white
Cow, which his Irish Majesty must kill, and
seeth the same in Water whole, then must he
bath himself therein stark naked; and sitting
in the Caldron wherein it is sod, accompanied
with the People round about him, he and they
eat the Flesh, and drink the Broth (much Good
may’t do ’em) without Cup, Dish or Spoon.
No sooner was I arriv’d at Dublin, but being in
Company with some Collegians of Trinity-College
there, which is all the Colleges their University
contains, they to shew their extraordinary Parts
to me a Stranger in a poetick Way, made Verses
ex tempore, and I to Oblige them writ off of
Hand the following Lines.
When pious Israel, by Jehovah blest,
Had been four hundred Years and more opprest,
By haughty Pharaoh’s arbitrary Sway,
Which Doom’d the Hebrew Vassals to Obey,
It pleas’d the Pow’r of an Almighty Hand
To Scourge a stubborn King, and sinful Land,
With ten afflictions, grievous to a Realm,
Where Pride and Superstition sat at Helm.
Yet Wrath Divine was not so much Display’d,
To make a wise Creator be Obey’d,
But that indulging Heaven kept in store,
For Ireland, a dozen Plagues and more.
Nits make their Youths, before they’re Old, look Grey,
And rampant Lice upon their Bodies Prey;
Their Summer Visiters are Swarms of Fleas,
Which Sting the Females that they can’t have Ease.
Poverty Nips ’em, Ign’rance is their Guide,
And Sloth in Triumph thro’ their Cabbins ride.
Misery for lazy Lives they Celebrate;
And Loyalty (which proves their Ruin) hate.
Their chiefest Talent much in Nonsense lies;
And honest Principles they all Dispise.
Devotion is a Stranger to their Thoughts,
And small Temptations make their Women Morts.
But that which adds to their intailed Curse,
Is store of Children, but an empty Purse.
Thus, if these are not Plagues enough, may Pox,
And all the Ails which cram’d Pandora’s Box,
Always severely Torture them; and be
The Portion of their wild Posterity.
This Satyr being Truth and Matter of Fact,
how well it pleas’d the Irish Collegians may be
easily guess’d, however taking leave of my learned
Company, I went out to look about me in
the City, where I star’d and gap’d around,
like our Country Hicks upon the Signs in London,[66]
the Monument, or Tombs in Westminster-Abby.
Ringsend Coaches, so call’d from a Place
of that Name about a Mile or two out of the
Dublinian Suburbs, I saw were more numerous
than Hackney or Gentlemen’s Coaches; and
which being a sort of Carts made with a Seat
before, wherein People may be jolted 3 or 4
Miles for 2 Pence, your topping City Cuckolds
and their Wives very often ride out of Town
in ’em, to make a Demolition of Cakes and
Ale. Being mounted next upon Lousie-Hill, and
asking whence the Place deriv’d its Name, some
knowing People inform’d me, that an old Woman
once dwelling there, to whom honest St.
Patrick, a Swineherd, and tutelary Patron of
that Kingdom promis’d to clear that Nation of
Lice, she fell a weeping, and humbly besought
the good old Man not to destroy them, because
the Inhabitants had no other Diversion on Sundays,
than to sit at home and louse themselves;
whereupon her Request being granted, the Irish
enjoy the Company of their native Cattle to
this Day, in Memory of which peculiar Favour
this Street ever since bears the Name of Lousie-Hill.
At last I rambled into Smock-Alley, where
the Irish Theatre is situated; Curiosity led me
soon into it, when Dryden’s Opera, call’d King
Arthur, was to be acted, which is a Play I lik’d
well enough, excepting these two Lines in Act
I. Scene I.
On yon proud Towers, before the Day be done,
My glittering Banners shall be wav’d against the setting Sun.
For tho’ the Greek and Latin Poets, in their
Compositions, made their Hexameter or Heroick[67]
Verse, compos’d of Dactyls and Spondees, yet
always observing to have each Line to end with
an Adonick likewise, it runs smoother than
what our Language will with 15 or more Syllables,
for we cannot exceed 10 Feet, or 12 at
the most, without offending a delicate Ear.
Farther, let me observe, that the Irish Stage
is now as much cumber’d as the English Stage,
with Inventions not used in former Ages; I
mean with Opera’s and Farce; the first stupifying
the Audience in such a quivering Manner in
their Songs, that the Words and Sense too are
both lost in the Tune: And the other is a Representation
of Things not natural, and is but
one, or 3 Acts at most; contrary to the Rule
of dramatick Poetry, which, Horace says in his
Book de Arte Poetica, must have no more or less
than 5 Acts. As for Comedy, it is as much, nay
more corrupted in Ireland, than in England,
France or Italy, in too much admitting the Mimick
in the Drama: And let me tell you (tho’
a Pilgrim) that since I am enter’d upon this
Discourse, I must take Notice, that tho’ Comedy
is an Imitation of inferior People in Ridicule,
yet ought not the Ridicule to be extravagant,
but gracefully and slightly touch’d, as
by Terence in his Pieces. Again, altho Comedy
represents low Persons, yet are they not the
meanest, since it brings eminent Citizens and
Magistrates on the Stage; nay, Plautus in his
Amphytrio introduces Gods and Kings, but nevertheless
it is a true Comedy, because he hath
turn’d the Subject of Tragedy into Ridicule;
and it looks beautiful enough, if the Actors
have a Regard to their Pronunciation and Gesture,
according to Quintilian’s Rule, in the
11th Chapter of his First Book which is this:[68]
Debet etiam docere comœdus quomodo narrandum,
&c. That is, a Comedian ought to teach how
we should speak, with what Authority we
should persuade, with what Emotion Anger
should be rais’d, and with what Change of Voice
we may excite Pity: I can’t blame those who
spend some Time with the Masters of the palestrick
Art; that is, those who form the Gestures
and Motions, teach how to hold the
Arms, and the Hands, that we seem not to be
rustick, or ignorant, to have no unseemly Carriage,
no unbecoming Posture of the Feet, and
that the Head and Eyes don’t differ from the
other Motions of the Body. But these Rules
are no where strictly observ’d by Players:
Moreover, as the Design of Comedy is to rectify
the Manners of Men and Women, nothing
ought to be represented which may vitiate the
Audience, for the People being generally the
same, they obstinately retain the most licentious
and obscene Things; especially when they
are impiously joyn’d to Religion. Indeed Ben
Johnson is often guilty of this Fault in his Volpone,
especially where he brings in Sir Politick
Would be talking thus prophanely to Peregrine.
And then, for your Religion, profess none;
But wonder at the Diversity of all. Act 4. Sc. 1.
Also Ben Johnson in his Alchymist so much dishonours
his Maker, as to suffer the most tremendous
Name of God to be made so vile and
cheap, as to be us’d often as an expletive Particle
to prevent a Chasme, or make up a Gap in
a Sentence, that it may run more smoothly; as
appears by some of his Persons thus speaking.
God’s Will then, Queen of Fairies
On with your Tire; and, Doctor, with your Robes.
Let’s dispatch him for God’s sake. Act 3. Sc. 3.
Fore God,
She is a delicate Dab chick! I must have her. Act 4. Scen. 2.
As for Tragedies, those are the most perfect
ones in which there are Peripeties, that is, Revolutions,
Changes of Fortune, and Remembrances,
as in the Oedipus of Sophocles, the first
Tragedy of all Antiquity, where in the 3d Scene
of the 4th Act, the Peripetie, or Change of one
Fortune into another, is contrary to what was
expected, in the Man that comes from Corinth to
acquaint Oedipus of the Death of King Polybius.
I shall not take Notice of the Duration of the
Representation of a Play, which ought not to
exceed the Space of a natural Day; but observe,
that the Sect of the Peripateticks believing
neither Providence nor fatal Necessity, but
imputes all Accidents to Chance, the antient
tragick Poets chose rather to follow the Opinion
of the Stoicks, who acknowledge a Providence
and fatal Necessity; as very well perceiving,
that that was the only Means to preserve
the Theatre, those wonderful Surprizes,
which are produc’d by Accidents that seem fortuitous,
and yet nevertheless have Causes assign’d
to them, which are certain. Again, it is
to be noted, that the Prologue should be plac’d
before the Play; but Plautus hath took the Liberty
of the Greeks, in placing the Prologue in
the Play, as particularly in the first Act of his
Miles gloriosus, and after the first Act in Cistellaria;[70]
however, as I hint above, this Custom
ought not to be follow’d by any prudent and
regular Poet; and therefore Terence hath took
Care not to be guilty of so great a Fault.
The Catastrophe of a Play must be happy or fatal;
but Euripides has made his Pieces to have
a miserable one, wherefore he appears to be the
most tragical of all the Poets. Now the Use of
Machines, which makes the Gods and Goddesses
appear upon the Stage, is founded on the
generally received Opinion of the Ethnichs, who
suppose the Gods can see all things, and take
Care of Men; for if there were none but Epicureans
in the World, the Machines would be
ridiculous, or not suffer’d, because they would
directly thwart their Opinion, in affirming the
Gods lead a quiet Life, free from all Sorts of
Care, and if Nature sometimes doth those
Things which seem miraculous, the Gods take
no Notice of it, and don’t interrupt their Pleasure.
By the Way also I must note, that the
Imitation of Lightning and Thunder may be
put into the Number of the Machines, and also
that furious Storm, which makes the unravelling
of the second Oedipus in Sophocles; for altho’
Jupiter doth not appear, yet ’tis he who
sends that Tempest, during which Oedipus is buried:
And from hence I infer, that Machines
may be employ’d, not only out of, but also in
the Action of Tragedy, provided there be an
absolute Necessity for them.
But many of our modern Dramatists have
not exactly observ’d the aforesaid Discourse, or
kept themselves strictly to the Unity of Action,
Time, and Place. For Shakespear in his Tragedy
of Othello, the Moor of Venice, makes the
Duration of what he represents to be above 3[71]
Weeks or a Month; I think the Representation
of his Play begins in Italy, whence his black
General went to Cyprus, an Island on the Coast
of Syria, and to which he could not well arrive
under a Fortnight, according as the Storm he
met with held longer or shorter. The Absurdities
and Blunders of this illiterate Poetaster
being so many, that whatever he writ was not
worth acting in Bartholomew Fair, I shall only
take Notice of the little Knowledge he had in
Astronomy, when in Act 1. Scen. 2. he says,
For do but stand upon the foaming Shore,
The chiding Billows seem to pelt the Clouds,
The Wind shake Surge, with high and monst’rous Main,
Seems to cast Water on the burning Bear,
And quench the Guards of the ever-fired Pole.
In these Lines I reckon he hath given a false
Epithet to the Bear, which ought to have been
lesser instead of burning, by talking of the Guards
presently after, which are the two foremost
Stars in Ursa minor, whereof that which is in
the Shoulder of this Constellation, hath Longitude
128 Degrees, 23 Minutes, and North Latitude
72 Degrees, 40 Minutes, insomuch that
being nearest of all the Northern Constellations
to the North Pole, I wonder how there
can be any extraordinary Heat within the frigid
Zone. Also in the same Play he supposes
the Soul to be the Production of some mortal
Substance, according to these Words of Emilia,
Act 5. Scen. 1.
If he say so, may his pernicious Soul
Rot half a Grain a-day.
But Shakespear being no Scholar, I suppose he
had so little Skill in Rhetorick, that by a Synecdoche
he did not put a Whole for a Part, as Virgil
do’s Anima for Homo, in describing the Funeral
of Polydorus, in Æneid. lib. 3. The Faults
of this same Poetaster are not a few also in his
Tragedy, call’d Hamlet, Prince of Denmark; in
which he is mighty drolling, particularly where
he tells an old Woman’s Story of the Cocks
crowing always at Christmas, in Act 1. Scen. 1.
It faded at the Crowing of the Cock.
Some say, that ever ’gainst that Season comes,
Wherein our Saviour’s Birth is Celebrated,
This Bird of dawning singeth all Night long,
And then, they say, no Spirit dares stir abroad,
The Nights are wholsome; then no Plannets strike,
No Fairy takes, no Witch hath Power to Charm,
So hallow’d and so gracious is that Time.
Truly Mr. Lee was in my Opinion, the most
exact of all our modern Dramatists in his
Plays; but yet he is not without his Irregularities
and Foibles, especially in religious Matters,
of which we shall only take notice of this in his
Tragedy call Theodosius, or the Force of Love,
where, in Act 3. Scen. 1. he represents the Emperor
Theodosius a hopeful Convert, when at the
sight of Athenais he makes one of the Articles
of the Christian Faith a Simile for his Cod-piece
Passion in these Words,
What hinders now but in spite of Rules
I burst thro’ all the Bands of Death that hold me,
And fly with such a haste to that Appearance,
As bury’d Saints shall make at the last Summons.
In Mr. Lee’s Tragedy call’d the Rival Queens,
or the Death of Alexander the Great, in Act 1.
Scen. I. he makes Polyperchon give a Description
of Hell after the Christian Manner; for tho’ it
was the Theology of the Grecians to believe a future
State, yet it does not occur to my Memory
that I ever read they allotted any Punishment
to the Wicked by Fire, as he intimates in
these Lines.
Tho’ the Earth yawn so wide,
That all the Labours of the Deep were seen,
And Alexander stood on the other Side,
I’d leap the burning Ditch to give him Death,
Or sink my self for ever.
And in Act 4. Scen. I. he introduces Cassander
speaking so prophanely, that it must rather vitiate
the Audience than make them virtuous.
’Tis nobler far to be a King of Hell,
To Head infernal Legions, Chiefs below,
To let ’em loose for Earth, to call ’em in,
And take Account of what dark Deeds are done,
Than be a Subject God in Heav’n unblest,
And without Mischief have eternal Rest.
As for Mr. Shadwell, he hath mixt his Tragedy
call’d the Libertine with so much Comedy, that
the Play is rather tragi-comical than tragical;
tho’ there is Blood enough spilt in it which
might, with good Husbandry, serve very well
for two or three Tragedies: But to make Don
John the Libertine talk of a Soul in Act I. when
an Atheist believes no such Thing existing in a
Man, it is very absurd, as you may see in the[74]
following Lines, which plainly describe the Person’s
Character.
Let’s on, and live the nobler Life of Sense;
To all the Powers of Love and mighty Lust,
In spite of formal Fops I will be just.
What Ways soe’er conduce to my Delight,
My Sense instructs me, I must think ’em right.
On, on my Soul, and make no Stop in Pleasure,
They’re dull insipid Fools, who live by Measure.
Was I to criticise on all the Errors occurring
in the Greek, Latin and English Dramatists, I
should swell my Criticisms to a Bulk exceeding
these swelling Expressions of Seneca, in the
first Act of his Hercules Oetæus, whom he makes
to speak in these bragging, bouncing, and ranting
Strains.
Vel si times ne terra concipiat feras,
Properet malum quodcunque dum terra Herculem
Habet, videtque.
Da, da tuendos Jupiter saltem deos:
Illa licebit fulmina parte auferas,
Ego quam tuebor: sive glacialem polum,
Seu me tueri fervidam partem jubes,
Hac esse superos parte securos puta.
By these Lines we plainly see how miserable
Jupiter must be, who cannot be safe from wild
Beasts without an Hercules; and then again
how little and weak the Poet makes the Gods, in
representing them to stand in Need of Human
Help: But the tragick Poets do very often err
in this Manner, by extolling Things above Nature.
Moreover, altho’ some Morality may be
learnt by the Judicious either from tragick or[75]
comick Writers, yet there are none of the
dramatick Poets but what have too much Immorality
and Prophaness in their Writings;
and hence it follows that either Tragedy or Comedy,
as being a Representation of Things,
must be of a more pernicious Consequence than
an Epick Poem, which is only a Recitation. A
dramatick Poet must make the Person which he
brings on the Stage to speak exactly to the Character
which he or she represents: Thus whether
the Person that represents another, is to
act the Part of a Tyrant, Adulterer, Villain,
Drunkard, or any other wicked profligate
Wretch, as the Humour of such Persons must
be represented always the same, without any
Variety, the Representation of such notorious
Crimes may be of an ill Consequence to green
Heads; and especially in being Spectators of
such Plays, which treat of those Subjects whose
Stories are taken from, or belonging to Hell.
Farthermore there is as much Buffoonry and
Drollery acted on the Irish Stage as on the English
Stage, as having Harlequins shewing Merry-Andrew’s
Tricks; Scaramouches jumping into
Barrels; Dame Ragonda skipping about with 9
Brats at her Heels; or a brainless Fellow, who
has more Grimace than Sense, riding upon an
Ass, which (I’m sure) is false Heraldry to put
Metal upon Metal.
But being as soon tir’d of Dublin, as a Drury-Lane
Strumpet is of Beetle and Punny in
Bridewell, I left that lewd Town to visit the
Country; accordingly I went to Manooth, a
Town in the County of Kildare, where I saw
nothing memorable, but an old Castle much
ruinated by the famous Usurper Oliver Cromwell,
of inglorious Memory. Hence I went to Kilcock,[76]
a Mile beyond which is a Stone-Mill, said
to be built by the Devil; and truly by its
strange Contrivance, I’m apt to believe it may
be the Workmanship of some infernal Artist.
Four Miles forward is Clenard, on the Skirts of
which Town is a Bridge over the River Boyn;
memorable for the entire Defeat King William
gave his Royal Competitor for the Diadem of
three Kingdoms. Hence I went to Mullingar;
and from thence to Balimore, otherwise call’d
Balimore-Lough-Sunderland, or Sivedelie, in the
County of West-Meath; but how improper the
Derivation is in one Respect, as well as incredulous
in another, I leave to your judicious
Sense to determine; for Bali signifies a Town
in the Bogtrotters Jargon, and More, great;
which Epithet is not at all suitable to this Place,
when there are scarce 40 Houses in it. But then
again to name it Sunderland, or Sivedelie, which
signifies a Beetle to beat wet Linnen, the Accident
I am going to recite, methinks could not
impose upon the Faith of any but a Papist, who
makes Traditions an essential Part of his Credo;
for as I was inform’d by some dwelling here,
there goes a Story of a Maid, living in former
Ages, when a Grove grew where this Lough
now is, on the North Side of the Town, with
a small Brook running thro’ it; and one Day
washing in this solitary Place, and accidentally
dropping her Beetle into the Water, the Trees
in the Grove instantly vanished, and the Ground
became a large Lough: Thus by giving too
much Credulity to a Lie, this Town begot a
Name as long as a Spanish Nobleman’s. In
the Church-Yard here I took Notice of a Grave-stone,
on which was this insignificant Inscription:
Pray for the Soul of Major John Duneel,[77]
who departed the 6th of November, 1694; as also
for his Wife Elizabeth Jones; and his Sons Henry,
William and Richard, who caused this Tomb to be
made, Anno Domini 1696. And under it carv’d
J. H. S. the Initial Letters of, Iesus Hominum
Salvator. Not far from this is another Grave
stone over a Miller, with all the chief Tools of
his thieving Occupation carv’d thereon: And
this Mode I saw was pretty customary among
Tradesmen in many Church-Yards in this
Kingdom.
Next I went to Athlone, a Town not only situated
in the two Provinces of Leinster and
Connought, but also in the two Counties of West-Meath
and Roscommon. The Shannon, the largest
River in Ireland, running from North to South,
divides it into two Parts; over which is a Stone
Bridge, containing seven Arches, built by old
Queen Bess; and on it is cut out a Man and
Dog with this Inscription. Robarts Damport
Was Overseer of this Workys. Indeed, the Matter
is not so material as to be worthy of communicating
it to the Publick, but only to let
my Readers see their antient way of Spelling,
which is not much different from the modern
Orthography now in use among ’em; and to delineate
the Arrogancy of this petty Officer,
who, because Alexander the Great respected his
Horse Bucephalus, attempted to immortalize his
Irish Cur too. Hence I went to Balidagon, a little
Village six Miles from Athlone; but whence
this Place takes its Name I cant imagine, unless
a Remnant of the cursed Philistines made their
Escape from the Slaughtering Israelites, by
Swimming over the Sea; and settling in this
bye Country, they dedicated these Receptacles
of Poverty to their Monstrous God, Dagon.[78]
Proceeding onwards on my Pilgrimage, I went
to Balinasloe; the People of which small Town
are so Zealous, that rather than want a House
of Devotion, they assemble in a little Cabbin,
where a Bank is raised for the Bog-trotting
Congregation to sit on; and such an awkward
Pulpit, Desk, and Communion-Table is bestow’d
on the poor Levite, that it would puzzle Ingenuity
to fathom the Depth of humane Fancy for
their true Description: However, taking some
Pity and Compassion on these godly Wretches,
before I left ’em I compil’d for them the following
Stanza’s, call’d
The Irish LITANY.
From a Country full of Rebellion and Treason;
From a People not Honest, and void of all Reason;
From running of Goods, which is ne’er out of Season;
Libera nos, Domine.
From dry’d up Potatoes, without any Butter;
From unwholesome Water, which gives the wild Squtter;
From Priests, who in Latin to Blockheads do mutter;
Libera nos, Domine.
From Women whose Features wou’d frighten the Devil;
From Children whose Skin’s like an Orange of Sevil;
And are bred from the Womb to all manner of Evil;
Libera nos, Domine.
From thick Bonny-clabber, a Med’cine for Witches;
From Usquebaugh, loved by all drunken Bitches;
From Vermin, which makes ’em scratch where it Itches;
Libera nos, Domine.
From getting of Children, but nothing to keep ’em;
From Corn-Fields, where idle Lubbers won’t reap ’em;
From Fleas, where People by Bushels may weep ’em;
Libera nos, Domine.
[79]
From wretchedly living in our poor Condition;
From Beggars, whose Pride for great Places petition;
Or else from the Dunghil wou’d bear a Commission.
Libera nos, Domine.
From Mayors, full as foolish as guzling Churchwardens,
From Dublin, full of Whores as the Spring-Gardens;
From a Papist, whose Heart against Protestants hardens;
Libera nos, Domine.
From running o’er Bogs, in all sorts of Weather,
From wearing flat Brogues, made of nasty hard Leather,
From wearing slight Trowsers, which scarce hang together;
Libera nos, Domine.
From going bare-foot, both Summer and Winter;
From wearing a Smock till it’s whiter than Tinder;
From Poets, whose Parts will never reach Pindar;
Libera nos, Domine.
From Knights of the Post against Innocents swearing,
From Doxies, whose Mouths for raw Flesh are staring;
And from their Presumption of Mens Breeches wearing;
Libera nos, Domine.
From Lice, Itch, and Scabs, the Plague of our Nation;
From Pimps, who claim rich Men for a Relation;
And from our blind Way of gaining Salvation;
Libera nos, Domine.
From Cook-Maids as nasty as any Gold finder;
From Pastors as blind as a Beetle and blinder;
From Strumpets, whom Money make never the kinder,
Libera nos, Domine.
From trading with France, to get ourselves Riches;
From often cooling our Courage in Ditches;
T’asswage the rebellious Flesh in the Breeches;
Libera nos, Domine.
From Blind leading blind Folks, and Criples the Criple;
From going to Church without any Steeple;
From Ropes without Bells, to ring in the People;
Libera nos, Domine.
[80]
From Rapparees medling with Travellers Purses;
From Servants as base as damn’d Parish Nurses;
From Teaguelanders full of Damnation and Curses.
Libera nos, Domine.
Bidding adieu to Balinosloe, I went to Aghrim,
where the Number of Houses exceed not
a Pair-Royal of Aces; however, the Place will
be ever memorable in History, for the decisive
Battle fought here, which reduced a whole
Kingdom to the Obedience of the Protestant
King William. And all over the Plain here lie
scatter’d Heaps of Mens Sculls to this Day; insomuch
that it does not only represent Golgotha,
but had also the Father of that Grecian
Hero dwelt here, who wept for more Worlds
to add to his Conquests, he might have sav’d his
Page the Labour of shewing him at Meals the
ghastful Emblem of Mortality. Hence I proceeded
to Loghrea, where is kept the chiefest
Market in all the Province of Connaught; and
from thence going to Killilel, I saw a small
wooden Cross set tottering upon a Heap of
Stones in the Road; about which some Priest,
and his bigotted Tribe, had been mumbling a
Pater Noster, and Ave Maria to the Blessed
Lady. At Balihavely I took Notice of an old
Castle metamorphosed into a Cow-House;
and next I went to Athenrea, an ancient, but
much ruinated Town, built by old King John
of merry Memory. Then I came to Galway, a
large Seaport Town, situated on the River
Caarle; when I first enter’d this Place, I really
took it to be a general Goal for the whole
Kingdom; for the Houses (which are some
one, some two, and some three Stories high)
are all strongly built of Stone, and most of the[81]
Windows thick barricadoed with thick Iron
Bars, insomuch that there are not the like Buildings
to be seen through the Country for
Strength. In the Midst of this Town stands a
Church, dedicated to honest St. Nicholas, whose
Steeple hath a pretty good Set of Bells, and its
Chimes are somewhat Musical, but not well approv’d
by the Fanaticks, because they are set to
the Tune of a Psalm. Moreover, in this Church
are two Pulpits, one for the Doctor to preach
in, and one for the Archbishop of Tuam, in case
his Preferment makes him not above it.
The Women of this Country are generally
so homely, that had the Mother of all
Living been as ugly, when she took her ill-condition’d
Being from one of Father Adam’s
Ribs, her frightful Phisiognomy had forc’d
the Godhead to act the sixth Day over again.
Seeing the female Sex so ordinary, to comfort
them under this Misfortune, I composed the
following Lines, call’d the Picture of an Irish
Woman.
Of all the Creatures I have ever found,
An Irish Woman is a strange Compound!
Unseemly Gestures wanton Sports betray,
Yet talk of Love, she knows not what to say.
Her chiefest Breeding lies in milking Cows,
Her Face is only fit to fright the Crows;
Her Breasts are large, her Belly somewhat hard,
And Modesty’s a Thing she’ll ne’er regard:
But yet to give the Teagueland Beast her Due,
Her Skin is really a Mulatto’s Hue;
Ugly’s her Hand, yet Legs so little be,
That litler Mill-Posts you shall seldom see.
Her roving Eyes lascivious Looks betray,
And as the Night obscures a glorious Day,
[82]
So Ragged Mantles, or a Cloak do’s hide
Those Imperfections which we should deride.
Splavin’s her Foot, irregular her Nose,
Which always is uncleanly as her Cloaths;
Her Buttocks swell, like lustful Bull his Cod,
And Knees are never bended to her God:
For, when at Leisure, her Devotion’s most
Bestow’d on Priest, and consecrated Host.
Her Speech discovers a perfidious Heart,
The which on very easie Terms she’ll part;
And as for that strange Cup which Water keeps
With downward Mouth, awake, or when she sleeps,
Let her be honest Woman, Maid, or Whore,
Like Death and Hell ’tis gaping still for more.
But yet for all this Dearth of handsome Women,
this Country in another Respect is far
happier than England, as being less infected
with Lawyers, that common Bane of all Mankind.
The wild Irish, in all Courts of Judicature,
are sworn upon a Scull; herein being
more scrupulous of forswearing themselves,
than by taking a false Oath on the New-Testament;
as supposing the Ghost to whom that
Scull once pertain’d would haunt them, in case
they prov’d perjur’d. Assizes are held twice a
Year for criminal Matters, and Cases of Nisi
prius; and tho’ Astræa left no Print of her Footsteps
in this Nation when she fled to Heaven,
yet so partial is blindfold Justice here betwixt
Man and Beast, that the Stone Pounds for offending
Cattle seem stronger built than Goals
for Malefactors. Murderers are hang’d and
quarter’d; and Rapparees share the same Fate:
Which last in former Times was the Militia of
the Country, but the mean Souls of the Irish
detesting now what is honourable and Praiseworthy,[83]
to follow Theft, this martial Denomination
suffers the same hard Fate with those
honest Names of Tyrant and Sophister, which
from Titles of Honour are degenerated into
Terms of the greatest Disgrace and Infamy;
for a Rapparee now signifies no more than a
Robber on the Highway. As for the great
Commerce the People drives, that was plainly
perceiv’d by meeting neither Waggon nor Pack-Horse
100 Miles an End. The wild Native
Irish observe more Days of Fasting and Abstinence
than the Rubrick of their Church enjoyns
them; because extream Poverty excludes them
from the Use of Flesh and Fowl from one Year’s
End to another. Their Lodging is in small
Cabbins, without Chimneys, put up in the
Highways; and in these the Man, his Wife and
Children, Cocks, Hens, Chickens, Hogs, Pigs,
Cows, Calves and Geese lie all together. If
Teague is so topping as to rent a small Potatoe-Garden
for 5 Shillings per Annum, he thinks
himself as well to pass as that Italian Duke,
who’s married Yearly to the Adriatic Sea; however,
his Tenement shall be no better furnish’d
than the rest of his Neighbours; which is commonly
set off with a Truss of Straw to lie on,
a Grid-Iron, and Pot to boil Potatoes. These
wild People wear neither Shoes nor Stockings,
which makes me strongly to suspect that they
are born without any, as Monsieur Ragou’s Bastard
was without a Shirt; and as often as I
behold their tatter’d Apparel, which scarce
covers what Modesty ought to conceal, I imagine
them to proceed from the Loyns of Ham,
who discovering his Father’s Nakedness, the
Curse of him and his Posterity lay in never being
well cloath’d again.
Here are no Stage-Coaches; and instead of
Carts they use only little Cars, with small
Wheels without Spokes, so that they cannot
carry above 3 or 400 Weight of Tallow, which
is one of the chiefest Commodities of this Country.
Sliding Carts are also very common, imitating
much our Halliers in Bristol. Instead of
Soap they use Cackmacrel, that is, the Excrements
of Dogs whether thick or thin, which
poor Women gather up in the Streets with as
great Pains as they do Rags in London. In England
Women ride upon the left Side of a Horse,
but here they ride upon the wrong Side; and
very often astride. Most Things edible or potable
are very cheap; but why is that? Because
Money is scarce, which makes an English
Shillings go for 13 Pence, and a Guinea 1 Pound
3 Shillings, which is considerable above their
intrinsick Value. The Inhabitants of this Kingdom
greatly admire a Dish of Potatoes, to which
they have such an Appetite, that I believe they
long for ’em after they are dead; for in most
Potatoe-Gardens many Souls, grinning strangely
at this delicious Food, which is both Bread
and Meat to an Irishman; but whether they get
thither by Accident, or some sympathetical
Vertue, whose strange Effect proceeding from
as strange a Cause, the Relicks of their mortal
Carcasses will insensibly creep (like the Sun’s
Shadow on a Dial) to what they most affected
in this Lite, is a Subject on which I shall not
insist. For above 40 Miles together I could not
see a Stack of Hay; and Beasts are very small
here, excepting the Woman, who being great
Breeders, stand hard and fast by that primary
Command, Increase and multiply; but I suppose
their Obedience to this Precept is more by natural[85]
Instinct, than acquir’d by any Knowledge
of the Scriptures, to which they are as meer
Strangers as the remotest Heathens. So boggy
is most part of the Country, that if it is not
Lucifer’s Backside, one may very reasonably
impute it to be the grand Magazine of Nature’s
Impurity. Popery is very predominant; for
altho’ severe Acts are made against Jesuits,
Monks, and Fryers, yet secular Priests, who
own no Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction of the See of
Rome, are tolerated to say Mass. Besides, several
private Nunneries, the Papists have public
Chapels here; one about a Furlong or two
without the West-Gate of Galway, dedicated to
the Virgin Mary; and another a little without
Abby-Gate, dedicated to St. Francis. Superstition
has a great Ascendant over their Faith;
for about half a Mile without William’s Gate
are two Wells, dedicated to the blessed Lady
and St. Tavison, round which every Sunday Morning
they walk bare-foot an Hour together,
mumbling over their Beads, and then crossing
themselves with the Water, which they hold
to be good against several Infirmities, they return
home as little sanctified as they went.
The Pulpit-Prayers us’d by the Protestant Clergy
in Ireland, are scarce as long as the Lord’s Prayer
and Doxology; for they are all as idle as
our English Parsons, who don’t preach, but read
Sermons, excepting here and there one that
scorns to teach his Congregation out of a
Book.
From Galway I went to Carmorris, on the
left Hand whereof are several Houses paying
Tribute to the Ruins of Fire and Sword. Next
I went to Balihove, in the County of Mayo;
and truly of all the Irish Counties commend me[86]
to this for good Fellowship; for here they will
kill one another to raise a Rundlet of Aqua-vitæ.
As passing through this Country, I overtook a
little Car loaded with this Liquor, which they
prefer above their beloved Usquebaugh, drawing
before a Corpse; and as soon as the senseless
Clod was interr’d in an obscure Place among
Bogs and Hills, they fell heartily to their strong
Sippings, which they drew out into square
wooden Cups, and thence took it out agen with
Egg-shels, which serv’d instead of Tasters.
For my part being a Stranger, they invited me
to participate of their Liquor; accordingly I
tarried with them, to see their Manners; ’till
the Spirits flew so much into their Heads, that
one Brother in a Quarrel kill’d another. Hereupon
some were for carrying him to Justice,
and others again for hiding the bloody Fact;
thus whilst a long Controversie held concerning
what to do in this tragical Matter, an old
Man among ’em starts up, and addresses himself
as follows.
“Loving Friends and Acquaintance, in taking
our last Farewel of a Neighbour here
departed, the Funeral Meeting has unhappily
occasion’d the Loss of another. Now
if we should deliver up this Criminal to the
Government, the Severity of their Justice
will deprive us of a third Friend; which Punishment
will not retrieve the Life of his unfortunate
Brother. Wherefore, to prevent
the Survivor’s untimely End, we’ll presently
send to see what Goods and Chattles the Deceased
owns; and raising therewith another
Rundlet of Aqua-vitæ, we’ll privately bury
our lately departed Brother, and drink his[87]
Requiem, without taking any farther Notice
of this Disaster to our heretical Foes”.
These were his Words as near as I can remember,
and his Advice being applauded by
all the Auditors, another Rundlet of Aqua Vitæ
is fetc’d; but by that time it was near out, a
fresh Quarrel arose, wherein a second Person
was murder’d; which being likewise smother’d
and a fresh Rundlet of Aqua Vitæ procur’d, I
took my leave of these kind Heats, for fear
they should at last raise a drunken Collation
out of me. So I made the best of my way for
Foxford, a very large Town, with a Church in
it, lying among very high Hills. Hence I went
to Lorras, an excellent Harbour for Ships, situated
in a Bay, twining among exceeding
high Mountains. Thence I went to Sligo, which
hath a strong Citadel, by a Bridge containing
Eight Stone Arches. Hence I went to Grange;
from thence to Balishannon, a Seaport Town;
hence I went to Donnegal, a Town situated on
a Hill, and was burnt by the Duke of Berwick,
in the late Irish Wars. Hence I went over
Barnsmoor, a Mount Ten Miles in Length, in
the Province of Ulster; but about a Mile before
I came to the End of it, Colcrockeda [or the
Hangman’s] Wood begins; where a great many
Tories or Rapparees have been hang’d, when
they made their solitary Receptacles in this desolate
and dangerous Place for robbing. Hence
I went to Rapho, a Bishoprick, with a very little
Church in it. And next I went to London-Derry,
the People whereof have such good Stomachs
as to eat Cats, Rats, Dogs and Horse-flesh
in time of a Siege. The most remarkable
Thing I saw hereabout was the Gallows, which[88]
stands about half a Mile out of Town, and is
of a Triangular Form, like our Triple-Tree
at Hyde-Park Corner; but as yet has not honour’d
the Roman See with so many Saints and
Martyrs as that in England.
From London-Derry I went to Colrain, a Seaport
Town divided by the Byrne Water into
Two Parts, so that it stands in the Counties of
Derry and Antrim, which last Shire is much
haunted with Fairies, who are so mischievous
as to fling Darts at People as they Travel in the
Night. I saw one of ’em, which is a flat solid
Stone, about Two Inches long, and in Shape
like a Vamp or upper Leather of a Woman’s
pecked Toe Shoe; one side white, t’other inclining
to the same Colour, but speckled with
red Spots; and is reckon’d very medicinal, if
us’d according to Prescription, for the sore
Teats of Cows. The Irish People, I perceiv’d
all the Way I Travell’d, are haughty of Heart,
implacable in Enmity; light of Belief, and patient
per Force in Hunger and Cold. Damage-fesant
is seldom committed, because here are
few or no Hedges; nor can Forrest Laws be in
much Use, when I saw not one from one End
of the Kingdom to the other. Brogues are
more worn than Shoes by both Sexes; their
Mouths supply the Use of Bellows; a Pail of
Water serves ’em for a Looking-Glass; and
Cleanliness is as much unknown to them, as
the Discoveries of Christopher Columbus to the
Antients. The richer Sort of Women wear
blue Cloth Cloaks, in all Weathers, as a Type
or Symbol of their Desire of wearing the
Breeches too; but their Husbands to mar their
Intentions, generally wear Trowsers made of
Frize, which is the staple Commodity of the[89]
Country. The midling Rank of Women wear
Riding-Hoods; and the Poor ones clad themselves
with course Mantles, thrown over their
Kerchiefs, which are as black as their Bodies,
and their Bodies as black as their Souls, but yet
their Souls are blacker than either; if it was
but for their Malice, contrary to the 11th Commandment,
commanding, That ye love one
another.
Tho’ the Women differ in their Habits, yet
both Gentle and Simple count Decency in Dressing
meer Idolatry; and that their Stockings
may hang flatteringly about their Heels, they
have utterly forsworn the Use of Garters.
Those who are married are generally dull and
sottish, so that when their Husbands come
home, they look like so many Passion-Pictures,
presenting ever Sadness and Melancholly; which
makes the poor Cuckolds like Spaniards, who
will leave their Saviour at any Time for a Maidenhead,
look as dull. Yea, an Irishman loves
a Whore as well as a Frenchman; and tho’ the
Superstition of former Times accounted a Woman
of such Pollution, that the Council of Eliberis
would not suffer a Man to touch her three
Days before his receiving the Sacrament, yet in
Defiance of all Councils, they will forsake Sacraments,
and all things else holy, rather than
go without a Bit of old Hat: And this Practice
of abstaining from Women at certain Times,
was (I suppose) in Use among the antient Heathens,
according to this Caution of Tibullus.
⸺ ⸺ discedat ab aris,
Cui tulit hesterna gaudiis nocte Venus. L. 2. Eleg. 1.
⸺ From the Altars let him keep,
That in his Lady’s Arms last Night did sleep.
By this Question in the last Chapter of Proverbs,
as I take it, Who can find a virtuous Woman?
One would be apt to surmise that Solomon
had travell’d into this Country; and to see the
People eat Clover Grass, a Man might swear
’em all a-kin to grazing Nebuchadnezzar. The
Genius of the Irish is not a-whit admirable, for
one Age here grows not wiser than another,
like other Nations; which gives great Suspicion
of a Metempsischosis, or Pythagoras’s Transmigration
of the Soul to be true: Seeing, by the Conversation
I had among the Bogtrotters, that the
younger Folks only inherit the small Sense of
their Progenitors; whose profound Knowledge
was heretofore so great, as to tye Ploughs to
their Horses Tails. Their Bogs are many,
whence they have all their Fuel, for they burn
nothing but Turf; Spiders are very plentiful,
but not venomous; and the common Texture
spun out of their Intrails, makes a Sort of
Hangings, which the Irish for Cheapness prefer
much before good Tapestry. In some Parts
they make their Bread with the Bark of Holly,
from which tearing off the green Superfluities,
they work it up round like a Football, and bake
it in the Embers. Their Butter being mixt
with Salt and Garlick, and put into the Skin
which follows the Calf from the Cow, they bury
in a Turf-Pit for 8 or 9 Months together,
which does not only make it of a strong Taste,
but likewise dies it with all the Colours in the
Rainbow: And Briskins, or the Roots of wild
Tansie, they love as well. Tho’ the Streets in
every Town are very dirty, yet their Scavengers[91]
Carts are no bigger than Wheelbarrows;
and the Use of Clogs or Pattins is an Abomination
with most Women. The most epidemical
Distemper among Strangers is the bloody Flux;
for which, Eggs fry’d in Brandy is a good Catholicon.
Few or no Patients happen among the
lying-in Women; for (like the Hebrews, as
their pious Midwives pretended) they are
brought to Bed without any Help; wash and
do all without Nurses; and in less than half a
Week do not only go abroad, but also give Earnest
for being with Child again. Their newborn
Infants are as hardy, and will endure Cold
as well as any Laplander; or the strongest Bear
subject to the Czar of Muscovy. The Irish Soil
mimicks Nature like the vivifying Mud of Nile;
for I have seen the Hairs which fall from Horses
Tails into Puddles of Water on the Road,
transubstantiated (if I may be so bold as to use
that Word, without any Offence to his Unholiness
the Pope) into Worms; wherefore it is
no Wonder that Priests, by the Art of Legerdemain,
can convert good Bread and Wine into
real Flesh and Blood.
Jack-Daws here are not black, but white and
grey, like Royston Crows; and Sea-Gulls are all
white, except their Wings, which are tipt at
the End with a dark yellow; but the largest
Birds in this Kingdom are Whores-Birds and
Jay!-Birds. Here is a sort of Vermin
breeding near Bogs call’d Man-creepers; in
Shape and Bigness like a Lizard, having 4 Legs,
the two foremost of which bear the Resemblance
of a Human Hand. This Creature’s Property
is to creep into a Man’s Belly, if he finds him
sleeping with his Mouth open, where he extreamly
tortures him, ’till fetch’d out of his internal[92]
Habitation; which Operation is thus
perform’d. The Patient being kept fasting, his
Chyrurgeon baits a Hook with a Piece of Meat,
and puts it down his Throat, at which the
hungry Insect snapping, he pulls him out with
a sudden Jerk, and kills it. Milk will not keep
(do what they can) from turning sour in six
Hours at any time of the Year; but why this
Region can’t preserve this Sweetness longer, is
somewhat paradoxical to me; unless the invisible
Effluvia’s, which secretly dissipate themselves
from the unwholsome Fogs, arising out
of the Bogs, by the attractive Power of the
Sun’s Beams, assume the Prerogative of forcing
the Putrefaction, so common to the liquid Product
of the Cow’s Teat. An Ignis fatuus the
silly People deem to be a Soul broke out of Purgatory;
and on the Vigil of St. John the Baptist’s
Nativity they make Bonfires, and run along
the Streets and Fields with Wisps of
Straw blazing on long Poles to purify the Air,
which they think infectious, by believing all the
Devils, Spirits, Ghosts, and Hobgoblins fly abroad
this Night to hurt Mankind. Farthermore,
it is their dull Theology to affirm, the
Souls of all People leave their Bodies on the
Eve of this Feast, and take a Ramble to that
very Place where, by Land or Sea, a final Seperation
shall divorce them for evermore in this
World. As soon as Death brings his last Summons
to any one, the wild Irish (both Men,
Women and Children) go before the Corpse,
and from his or her House to the Church-yard
set up a most hideous Holoo loo loo, which
may be heard two or three Miles round the
Country. Now when a Virgin (if here’s any
such Thing after she’s in the Teens) dies, a Garland,[93]
made of all sorts of Flowers and sweet
Herbs, is carried by a young Woman on her
Head, before the Coffin, from which hang
down two black Ribbons, signifying our mortal
State; and two white, as an Emblem of Purity
and Innocence; the Ends thereof are held by 4
young Maids, which are not so plenty here as
Thornbacks, before whom a Basket full of Herbs
and Flowers is supported by 2 other Maids,
who strew them along the Streets to the Place
of Burial: Then after the Deceased follow all
her Relations, and Acquaintance. But the
Priest being asham’d to walk without his Pontificalibus,
he’s as invisible, ’till you come to the
Grave, as if he had the Ring of Gyges on his
Finger.
Peas, Beans, and Artichoaks are very scarce;
but what is worse, their Beef will not take
Salt, without all the Fat melting away. The
Inhabitants in general thinking Adultery and
Fornication more laudable, than drawing the
Picture of Posterity in the lawful State of Matrimony,
the Morbus gallicus is as fashionable
all over the Country, as in any Court in Europe;
nevertheless, it is no Miracle to see them
look fair to the last, since they drink nothing
but what Nature’s Liberality is pleas’d to bestow
on ’em at Springs. Children that are
troubled with Kibes are always in a sad Condition,
because their poor Parents being great
Strangers to any sort of salted Meat, they
have no Brine to Cure them. When they use
Phlebotomy they frequently bleed ill Blood, because
it always runs in their Veins; and an
Apoplexy seldom kills them, because they are
not much pamper’d with high Feeding. A
Dropsie does not much hurt an Irishman, by reason[94]
he naturally swells with his Rhodomontado’s,
and bragging Lies: But a deep Consumption
always affects most their Pockets. Tho’
all their Actions are evil, yet are they not
much afflicted with the King’s-Evil; nor are
they much troubled with the Gout, because their
Poverty does not qualifie them for it. I can’t
tell what an Imposthume may do, but a Lie will
never choak them; nor do they seem to have
the Palsie, but when a bad Conscience makes
’em quake and tremble like an Aspin Leaf: But
indeed the People are all most grievously infected
with the Scurvy and Spleen too. As for their
Houses, the Rooms up one pair of Stairs, or
higher, are cover’d with Earth 4 or 5 Inches
thick; and the Tenent of the Joyces are not
put into Mortises, but laid cross-wise into
Notches over the Summet. An Irishman and
Fool are Correlatives; or at least synonimous
Terms: And catch him without a Blunder,
which makes him love Bulls, ’tis to be fear’d
the World is near its Dissolution. They speak
largely of their Antiquity, boasting as if they
were a People before the Creation; but, in my
Opinion, Ireland could not well be in esse so
early, because e’er a powerful Fiat produc’d all
Things out of nothing, all Things lay in their
original Chaos, so I can’t imagine of what the
Irish could exist, unless they derive their Descent
from those Atoms, which by a casual Concourse
(as the Epicureans hold) jumping together,
gave Being to the World. Neither could
it be a Country at the first Dawn of Light, by
reason when Omnipotency had finisht his stupendious
Works, he said, they were good; and
the sacred Approbation was glorified by all the
Sons of the Morning, who shouted together for Joy.[95]
Truly, I should rather impute the Original of
this Country to some Judgment, which stirring
up the Ocean, to overwhelm some remoter
Part of the Globe, whose aggravating Sins
too much incensed divine Justice, it left its antient
Current, to make room for a Place as
wicked: for you may read in divers Authors
of a Resurrection of Isles, peeping up in many
Parts, where none were ever seen before.
Their Language they do not only reckon older,
but also more copious than the Hebrew;
however, the Copiousness of their Linguo is
easily guess’d at, by not having a Word in their
Speech to express Breeches; and many other
appellative Words. Like the odious French they
put the Substantive before the Adjective, and to
embellish their Discourse, too often mixt with
Tautology, they frequently use the Figure Hysteron
& Proteron, that is, putting the Cart before
the Horse. Their Alphabet contains but
these 17 Letters, A, B, C, D, E, F, G, I, L, M,
N, O, P, R, S, T, U; but this literal Paucity
(like the Saxon Abecedary) is supply’d with
some Abbreviations or Contractions. The Pronunciation
of their Tongue being somewhat
guttural, it is hard for the Vulgar to speak it;
harder to speak it significantly; and hardest to
write true. In the late King James’s Reign
an Irish Teaguish Priest mightily extolling this
Bogland Jargon, he as mightily interceeded
with his papistick Majesty to erect publick
Schools in Oxford and Cambridge, for professing
this Tongue; but an Irish Courtier, who had
no great Veneration for this conceited Pedlar
in holy Trinkets, requesting the King to command
him to translate, Black Ox eat raw Egg,
the Priest presently perform’d his Talk thus,[96]
Daue dooue ecye ewe ouce; at which inarticulate
Sounds (for if you was to hear them rightly
pronounc’d, they sound just like a Dog’s barking)
his Majesty bursted out a laughing, and
calling to his Dog Towser, said, Here’s my Dog
can speak your Language already; whereupon the
spiritual Jugler drew in his Horns, and sneak’d
off like a small Cur that had lost his Tail. In
their Discourse it is common for them to use
two Negatives, which I’m sure make an Affirmative;
unless, after the manner of the Greeks,
they use them to make the Negation stronger.
It has been a great Dispute among Grammarians,
whether an Irishman is a Noun Substantive, or a
Noun Adjective; but it is carried in the latter,
by reason he cannot stand by himself in Battle;
for before the Irish go abroad, you shall
not find greater Cowards under the Copes of
Heaven.
Why the Men and Women here should be so
unmercifully big in the Legs, above any other
People, I impute to their mean Food, making
no solid Chyle; so what slender Diet they eat,
descending into their lower Parts, it there settles
in a dropsical sort of a Humour. For all
this Climate is reckon’d wholesome, it is rare
to see any of the Natives past the climacterical
Year; and their Perfidiousness is commonly attended
with more Curses, in one respect or another,
than are read in the Commination by our
Clergy on Ash Wednesday. Such as have Pewter
take great Delight to have it furbelow’d with
Dust; and to wear clean Linnen they reckon as
great a Crime as Loyalty. The People (like
Janus) have not two Faces; but that they are
double-hearted is confirm’d by the Votes of all
moral Men: For thinking a sly deceiving their[97]
best Friends meritorious, is a general Rule
they hold without any Exception. Here few
Women die Martyrs for Love; but if they crave
the Affections of a Man, wholly averse to their
Inclination, their Endeavour to raise Enjoyment
of him is by Art; and to this end they
often use Philtres. Likewise, the Spark that’s
resolv’d to sacrifice his Youth and Vigour on a
Damsel, whose Coyness will not accept of his
Love-Oblations; he threads a Needle with the
Hair of her Head, and then running it thro’
the most fleshy Part of a dead Man, as the
Brawn of the Arms, Thigh, or Calf of the
Leg, the Charm has that Virtue in it, as to
make her run mad for him whom she so lately
slighted. Providence is very admirable in all
its Dispensations, of strangely bringing surprising
Accidents to pass; but more especially
in Ireland, is her Gubernation of Chances wonderful,
in preserving a People from starving,
whose short Commons, in most Places, make a
lively Representation of Famine. Their Skill
in painting comes not near the rude Draughts
of the boorish Dutch; whose Fancy is more
grotesque than natural: And their Churches
discover neither any Workmanship after the
old Gothick Fashion; nor shew the Dorick, Corinthian,
or other Orders of modern Architecture.
Also the Spaciousness of them may
be soon guess’d at by their Cathedrals, the
largest of which scarce exceeds Oliver’s Tabernacle,
or Calamy’s Presbyterian Meeting-House
in Long Ditch at Westminster.
This Country abounds with Foxes, and some
wild Deer; Curlues and Cuckolds; and many
Rooms in most Houses having no Chimnies,
one would take every Town to be a Vent of[98]
Mount Ætna, when the Smoak (which is enough
to stifle Charon) makes the Walls as black as
Hell: And because Sarah was buried in the
Field of Macpelah, some of the Irish have the
Ambition to be buried in open Places. The
People are so alike for Rags and Jags, that I
believe Plautus took his Amphitryo from them.
From Colrain I went to Antrim, thence to
Belfast, and thence to Donaghadea, where you
may dine at 12 at Noon, and by Water get
to Port Patrick in Scotland, by 3 in the Afternoon.
It being natural for the Irishmen to be
as Jealous as Spaniards, from whom they pretend
to be descended, they will not let their
Wives wear Smocks, to prevent their Neighbours
from taking up their Linnen; and if a
Man has a great Estate here, he cannot with
the Psalmist say, My Liues are fallen to me in
pleasant Places. The Hazel Wood in Ireland is
obnoxious to Snakes, which expire in the Circles
made with them; nor will a Toad, or any
other venomous Creature, live in this Clime:
But the Reason why the Soil is so blest, is because
the People are curst.
THE
Comical Pilgrim’s Pilgrimage
INTO
HOLLAND.
Returning from Ireland to
England again, and being still
of a roving Mind, I was dispos’d
to go to Holland, I think
it was on the longest Day in
the Year, call’d Barnaby bright,
when going down to Margate in the Isle of
Thanet, where Austin the Monk landed to convert
Kentish Infidels, I went on board the Swiftsure,
a third Rate Man of War, on which Admiral
Shovel had hoisted his Flag, in his convoying
King William then over to Holland. A
fair Wind favouring us, we soon arriv’d upon
the Coast of Holland, which I perceiv’d was so
low, that the People had the Advantage of
other Nations, for if they die in Perdition,
they have a shorter Cut to Hell than the rest
of their Neighbours.
I landed at the Briel in the Isle of Voorne,
where is good Accommodation enough for
Travellers, but only they pay dear for it.
Hence I cross’d over the Maes River to the Isle
of Roosenburg, for 5 Stivers; and for 3 more I
cross’d over for Vlaerding, and by that Time I
got thither, I found the Ground so light all the
way, that a strong Earthquake would shake the
whole 17 Provinces of the Netherlands into a
Chaos. Most of their Dwellings in this Town,
as well as other Places, stand like Privies in
moated Houses, hanging still over the Water;
and had St. Stephen been condemn’d to suffer here,
he might have been alive this Day; for unless it
be their paved Cities, Gold is a little more plentiful
than Stones; except it be living ones, and
then for their Heaviness you may take in almost
all the Nation. It is a singular Place to fat
Monkies in, for there are Spiders as fat as
Shrimps; and a starting Horse endangers you
two Deaths at once, breaking your Neck and
drowning. Holland hanging most in the Water,
it seems but a Bridge of swimming Earth;
and if Ætna be the Mouth or fore Gate of Hell,
surely here is found the Postern, where the full
Earth doth vent her crude black Gore, which
the Inhabitants do scrape away for Fuel, as
Men with Spoons do Excrements from Civit
Cats. They dress their Meat in Aqua cælesti,
for it springs not as ours from the Earth, but
comes to them as Manna to the Israelites falling
from Heaven. This they keep under Ground
’till it stinks, and then they pump it out again
for Use; So when you wash your Face with one
Hand, you had need hold your Nose with the
other; for tho’ it be not a Cordial, yet is it certainly
a strong Water; and an English Bailiff[101]
prefers it far beyond Mint Water. Their Ditches
they distinguish into Nooks, as my Lord
Mayor’s Cook does his Custards; and every
Dutchman being his own Herald, Escutcheons
are as plentiful among the Boors as Gentry is
scarce.
From Vlaerding I went to Schiedam, a small
Town abounding in Fishery; and where Abundance
of Busses, Cord, and Network is made.
Here entring a House, the first Thing (as in
other Houses) I encounter’d was a Looking-Glass
and next other Utensils of a Family,
marshalled about the Room like so many Watch-men.
Were the Knacks of all their Houses set
together, they would far exceed the Trumpery
of Deard’s Toyshop in Fleet-street, or the Court
of Requests; and if you want to speak Dutch,
you may learn a great deal from their Signs,
for what they are they always write under
them. Coaches and Carts are as rare as Comets;
and all their Merchandize they draw
through the Streets on Sledges, as we do our
Traytors on Hurdles to Tyburn. Their Rooms
being but as so many Sand-Boxes, you must either
go out to spit, or blush when you see the
Mop brought. As their Beds require a Ladder
or Stairs to get into ’em, you are in Danger of
breaking your Neck if you tumble out; and as
they keep their Houses cleaner than their Bodies,
so do they take Care to have their Bodies
cleaner than their Souls. They are not so
nice-conscioned, but that they can turn out
Religion to let in Policy; and a Dutch Woman,
being the Head of the Husband, she takes the
Horn to her own Charge, which she often
multiplies, and bestows the Increase on her
Man. The People are generally boorish, therefore[102]
their Country is the God they Worship,
War is their Heaven, Peace is their Hell, and
the Spaniard, the Devil they hate.
From Schiedam I went to Rotterdam, the second
great Emporium of this trading People,
situated on the Side and Banks of the Maes, and
fitted for all Conveniency of Transport and
Importation. Here, as in other Places, I found
I might sooner convert a Jew, than make a
Dutchman yield to Arguments that cross him,
because his Spirits are generated from English
Beer; and his Body is built of pickled Herring,
which makes him testy. If you see him
fat, he hath been rooting in a Cabbage Ground,
and that bladder’d him; he is as churlish as his
Breeder Neptune; and the Love of Gain is as
natural to him, as Water to a Goose, or Carrion
to any Kite. Truth and Honesty is as
scarce here as Hedges; they are seldom deceiv’d,
because they trust no Body; and Complement
is an Idleness they were never train’d
in. They shall abuse a Stranger for nothing;
and after a few base Terms scotch one another
to a Carbanado. All that help them not, they
hold popish; and take it for an Argument of
much Honesty, to rail bitterly against the King
of Spain. Every thing is so made to swim among
them, that it is a Question if Elijah’s Ax
were now floating there, whether it would be
taken for a Miracle. The Shipping is the Babel
which they boast on for the Glory of their Nation;
and they are in a manner all Aquatiles,
and therefore the Spaniards call them Water-Dogs.
A Turkish Man of War is as dreadful to
them as a Falcon to a Mallard, from whom
their best Remedy is to steal away; and Sailors
among ’em, are as common as Beggars with us,[103]
besides the Dutch Tarpaulins will drink, rail,
swear, niggle, steal, and be lousie alike. Slime,
humid Air, Water, and wet Diet, have so
bagg’d their Cheeks, that some would take
their Paunches to be gotten above their Chins;
and bring under a democratical Government,
tell them of a King in Jest, and they will cut
your Throat in Earnest; for they hate the
Name of Majesty more than a Jew doth Images,
a Woman pure Virtue, or a Nonconformist a
Surplice; and it is reported that there is but
a Sheet of Paper betwixt Rotterdam and Hell,
which is a nearer Way to old Nick than by
Rochester.
From Rotterdam I went to Delf, where I observ’d
that every Mynheer shall walk the Streets
as Usurers go to Bawdy-Houses, all alone and
melancholly; and their Apparel is civil enough,
but very uncomely, as having usually more
Stuff than Shape. Holland is the Fair of all
Sects, where all the Pedlars of Heresies have
Leave to vent their Toys, their Ribbands, and
fanatick Rattles. They will admit of all Religions
but the true one; and whosoever disturbs
the civil Government shall be liable to
Punishment, but the Decrees of Heaven and
Sanctions of Deity, any one may break uncheck’d,
by professing what false Religion he
pleases. The Men are cladded tolerably well,
unless he inclines to the Sea-Fashion; and then
are his Breeches yawning at the Knees, as if
they were about to swallow up his Legs. The
Dutch Women have much more Forehead than
Face; and they are starch’d so blue, that if
they once grow old, you would verily believe
you saw Winter walking up to the Neck in Indigo;
They are far from going naked, for of a[104]
whole Woman you can see but half a Face; her
Hand shews her to be a sore Labourer; and if
you look lower, she’s like a Monkey chain’d about
the Middle, and had rather want it in
Diet, than not have Silver Hooks to hang her
Keys in. Their Smocks are ever whiter than
their Skin; and their Gowns are fit to hide
great Bellies; but they make them shew so unhandsome,
that Englishmen don’t care for getting
them. Where the Women lies in, the
Ringle or Knocker of the Door does Pennance,
for it is lapped round about with Linnen, either
to show you that loud Knocking may wake
the Child, or else that for a Month her Ring is
not to be run at. For their Diet they eat
much and spend little; and when they send
out a Fleet to the East-Indies, it shall live 3
Months on the Offals, which we fear would surfeit
our Swine; yet they feed on’t, and are still
the same Dutchmen. In their Houses, Roots
and Stockfish are staple Commodities; and if
they make a Feast, and add Flesh, they have an
Art to keep it hot more Days, than a dirty,
dingy, greasie Cook a Pig’s Head in Pye-Corner.
The Dutch Women are delivered, together
with their Children, of a Sooterkin, not unlike
to a Rat, which some imagine to be the Offspring
of the Stoves they have betwixt their
Legs in Winter. Their Fairs are more frequented
on Sundays in the Afternoon, than their
Churches in the Forenoon; and they are furnish’d
with such a wonderful Plenty of Corn by
their Neighbours; that they have not only enough
for their own Use, but also to export
sufficiently to other Countries, by selling them
at an extravagant Price a Pig of their own[105]
Sow. There is no Nation in the World whose
Seas yield the like constant and general Benefit
as our Seas do; wherefore the Sloth of the English
may very well be blam’d, for suffering the
Dutch under their Noses, to rob them of that
Wealth, which would be theirs at the small
Rate of an easie Industry. But tho’ all the Commodities
they have either domestick or foreign,
their fishing in our Seas brings them in the
greatest Profit, yet have they another Commodity
which is very profitable to them, and that
is War; for whereas other Nations are undone
by it, they have the Secret to thrive, and grow
exceeding rich by it. The Innholders paying
as much for the Excise of Victuals and Drink,
as they did at first for the Thing, it makes the
Entrata or Revenue of those High and Mighty
States (who, when they implor’d Queen Elizabeth’s
Aid, writ themselves the poor, distressed
States of Holland) very considerable. This free
State entertaining all Renegadoes, it is the common
Sink of Villany; each Faction calls itself
a Church; and every new-fangled, giddy-headed,
enthusiastical Botcher, Cobler, or Tinker, is
able enough to sow Sedition: But the general
Religion here is Calvanism, the Profession whereof,
tho’ fatal to Monarchical Government, agrees
well enough with the Parity of free States,
where the People have so much Voice and Authority.
Holland, with the 16 other Provinces is call’d
the Low-Countries, and the Netherlands, from
their low Situation. Here live almost as many,
if not more, Jews, Anabaptists, Socinians, and
Papists, as Calvanists; so that a Traveller who
comes hither, need not want a Religion to
choose which shall best please him. Whilst I[106]
was in Rotterdam, being one Night in Company
with some of the Dutch Boors, who were extolling
Erasmus, who was born in that Town,
for the greatest Scholar the World ever bred,
my Blood broil’d at their Insolence, as knowing
England, and other Nations have produc’d Men
of better Learning, but they being too many
for me to resent it, I had no other Way to vent
my Resentment, but by writing the following
Lines, which I privately stuck upon his Effigies
cast in Brass, and erected not far from the
House where he was born.
Thou great Colossus! if you stood astride,
Betwixt thy Legs the Dutchmen post might ride
To tell, Erasmus is the only Boor,
Whom they for Learning brag of and adore.
Great were thy nat’ral and acquired Parts,
Which made you ign’rant in the Lib’ral Arts;
And tho’ thou wert half Fool, and half a Knave,
Half Protestant, and yet to Rome a Slave,
Thy Doctrine serv’d this People very well,
Who here are damn’d, before they’re damn’d in Hell.
So farewel solid, monumental Brass,
Erected to commemorate an Ass.
But the high and mighty States being affronted
at this Lampoon put upon their chief Priest,
a Proclamation was issued forth, promising the
Reward of 500 Guilders for apprehending the
Author of it; whereupon I fled to Delph in the
twinckling of a Bed-Staff. This is a pretty
round compacted Town, about 2 Miles in Circumference,
fortified with a strong Wall and
Ditch, but after an old Fashion; and is the
great Magazine and Armory of the Commonwealth,
which is democratical, as I said before,[107]
for Monarchy they abhor as much as a Scotchman
does Episcopacy, or a true bred Irishman paying
Allegiance to a Protestant Prince.
From Delph I went to the Hague, the Metropolis
of Holland, not for Trade, but for the
States assembling at this Place, which is round
compacted, and neatly built: It is neither
Town nor City, but call’d a Village, as being
unwall’d, and is reckon’d the biggest in the
World. Within half a League of this Place
lies interr’d in an Abby Margaret Countess of
Henenberg, Sister to William, King of the Romans,
and on her Tomb still remains an Epitaph,
which mentions, that she brought forth as
many Children at one Birth, as are Days in the
Year. The Country has few Trees in it, because
the Ground is so waterish and soft, that
it is not able to bear the Weight of one; and
for the same Reason a less Quantity of Fruit
and Grain grows in it.
Their chiefest Fuel is Turf, of which they
burn so much, that it may be very well thought
the Dutch will burn up their own Land before
the Day of Judgment They are so cumbred
about the Affairs and Business of this World,
that their Ignorance in Religion is unaccountable.
The Theological Terms of Regeneration,
Consubstantiality, Predestination, Justification,
Sanctification, or hypostatical Union,
are full as mysterious to them, as the intricate
Hierogliphics of the antient Egyptians were to
the Vulgar. ’Tis true, they nevertheless keep
the Sabbath-Day very strict, for all the while
that divine Service in their blind way holas,
they do no manner of Work but wash in the open
Streets, keep Shops almost open, angle,
sing, play on the Musick, dance, drink, and[108]
whore; for as six Days are tiresome to be at
hard Labour, their high Mightinesses allow the
People one Day in seven to go to the Devil with
Pleasure. In five, the Dutch are good for nothing
but to be serv’d as a Sultan or Grand
Seignior once advis’d a French King, which
advice was to send an Army of Pioneers to dig
up their Country, and throw all the Inhabitants
at once into the Sea.
FINIS.
Transcriber’s Note
The following changes have been made to the text to correct suspected printing errors.
Page 24, “Breath it that County” changed to “Breath in
that County”
Page 27, “depending sosely on them” changed to
“depending solely on them”
Page 41, “mountanious” changed to “mountainous”
Page 54, “so that he is force” changed to “so that he
is forced”
Page 62, “delienate” changed to “delineate”
Page 69, “Queen of Faries” changed to “Queen of
Fairies”
Page 69, “deliicate” changed to “delicate”
Page 69, “that was the the only Means” changed to
“that was the only Means”
Page 78, “awkard” changed to “awkward”
Page 80, “metamporphosed” changed to
“metamorphosed”
Page 81, “totttring” changed to “tottering”
Page 81, “mumbling a a” changed to “mumbling a”
Page 81, “when I first I enter’d” changed to “when I
first enter’d”
Page 87, “a a fresh Quarrel arose” changed to “a fresh
Quarrel arose”
Page 89, “The midling Rank of Womgn” changed to “The
midling Rank of Women”
Page 89, “uttetly” changed to “utterly”
Page 91, “Whores-Birds and and
Jay!-Birds” changed to “Whores-Birds and
Jay!-Birds”
Page 94, “who shooted together” changed to “who
shouted together”
Page 97, “Martyrs fo Lover” changed to “Martyrs for
Love”
Page 99, “a shorser Cut” changed to “a shorter Cut”
Minor errors (punctuation, turned letter u/n, missing or superfluous spaces) have
been corrected without further note.
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