The GREAT LAW OF Subordination consider'd; OR, THE Insolence and Unsufferable Behaviour of SERVANTS in
England
duly enquir'd into.
ILLUSTRATED With a great Variety of
Examples, Historical Cases,
and
Remarkable Stories
of the Behaviour of some particular SERVANTS, suited to all the several ARGUMENTS made use of, as they go on.
In Ten Familiar Letters.
Together with a CONCLUSION, being an earnest and moving Remonstrance to the House-keepers and Heads of Families in
Great-Britain,
pressing them not to cease using their utmost Interest (especially at this Juncture) to obtain sufficient Laws for the effectual Regulation of the MANNERS and BEHAVIOUR of their SERVANTS.
AS ALSO A PROPOSAL, containing such Heads or Constitutions, as wou'd effectually answer this great End, and bring SERVANTS of every Class to a just (and yet not a grievous) Regulation.
LONDON: Sold by
S. Harding,
at the
Post-House,
in
St. Martin's-Lane; W. Lewis,
in
Covent-Garden; T. Worrall,
at the
Judge's-Head,
against
St. Dunstan's-Church, Fleetstreet; A. Bettesworth,
in
Pater-Noster-Row; W. Meadows,
in
Cornhill;
and
T. Edlin,
at the
Prince's-Arms,
against
Exeter-Exchange,
in the
Strand,
1724.
Price Three Shillings Sixpence.
THE PREFACE.
T HE unsufferable Behaviour of Servants in this Nation is now (it may be hop'd) come to its Height; their Measure of Insolence, I think, may be said to be quite full.
Private Families have struggled long with it; the injur'd Reputation of Masters, Mistresses, Young-Ladies, and Gentlemen, which has lain so long at the Mercy of their Servants Tongues, has groan'd under it; the Patience of the Heads of Families, under the Rudeness and Insults they have suffer'd, has been enough, and indeed too much provok'd; the poor Husbandman, Artificer, and Manufacturer, have suffer'd sufficiently;
in a Word,
the Grievance is become national, and calls aloud for a Remedy.
I confess, in the Beginning of this Work, I seem'd to stand alone in the Complaint, and some to whom I shew'd these
Sheets,
tho' they own'd the Fact, did not think it important enough to appear; that it was below the Dignity of the Pen, and wou'd not influence the World, as I hop'd it wou'd, to attempt a Cure.
But those Gentlemen are since convinc'd of their Mistake, and that they did not think it was an Evil of so extensive a Nature as it now appears to be; they thought it only regarded a few Citizens Wives, and Tradesmens House-Maids, or a few Gentlemens Footmen,
and the like;
they did not imagine, that the Husbandmen are ruin'd, the Farmers disabled, Manufacturers and Artificers plung'd, to the Destruction of Trade, and Stagnation of their Business; and that no Men who, in the Course of Business, employ Numbers of the Poor, can depend upon any Contracts they make, or perform any-thing they undertake, having no Law, no Power to enforce their Agreement, or to oblige the Poor to perform honestly what they are hir'd to do, tho' ever so justly paid for doing it
They did not consider, that the Peace of Families is ruin'd; all Houshold Discipline at a full Stop; and that such innumerable Disorders are the Consequences of this one Grievance; that there was an absolute Necessity of some speedy Application for a Remedy.
But in the middle of this Undertaking, and after this Work had been a considerable time in the Press, I had the Satisfaction to see, that the whole Representative Body of
Great-Britain
concurr'd with my Opinion; and that which to some seem'd not important enough for a Book of Complaint, was found so significant, as that the
House of Commons
thought it worth while to take it into their Consideration, and to resolve upon Measures for its Redress.
May those Resolutions end, as we have Reason to hope they will, in such Laws as shall effectually deliver us from this Burthen, which, I have too much Reason to say is become intollerable to to the whole Nation.
THE Great LAW OF
Subordination consider'd,
&c.
LETTER I.
Dear Brother,
I T was formerly said of
England,
by way of Proverb, That it was
the Hell of Horses, the Purgatory of Servants and the Paradise of
Women; what might be the Case in former Days, I know not, but I must confess (as things stand now) I see no just Reason for that way of Speaking,
As for
the Horses,
I shall not trouble you much upon that Subject; 'tis certain, they have as great a quantity of Horse-flesh here, as any Nation in the World, and as good a Kind, if not better, considering that they excel in the Breeds of all the sorts of Horses together, whereas other Nations are singlar to a sort; some Nations have fine shap'd Horses, as Spanish
Genets and Barbs,
some swift Gallopers, as the
Persians;
some strong and vastly large, Coach-Horses, as in
Handers,
some good Draught-Horses, as the
Swiss;
others good Cuirassiers, or Charging Horses, as in
Holstein;
and other Parts of
Germany;
but
England
excels in all the Kinds together, and no Nation goes beyond them.
It is true, the
English
have a great deal of Business for Horses, and that almost in all Parts of the Island: They have but little Inland Navigation, and therefore not only their Husbandry requires the Labour of their Cattle, but most part of the heavy Goods, which are carried from Place to Place, in Trade, are carried by Land; such as Grocery-Ware, Corn, Meal, Malt, Wine, Oyl, Wool, and Woolen-Manufacturies,
&c.
Also in many Places even their Metals and Minerals, such as
Lead, Iron, Copper, wrought Iron, Stones,
and even
Coals,
and
Salt,
and other weighty and bulky Goods are carried by Land-Carriage; so that the Horses in
England
do really work very hard, and this, perhaps, may be the Cause of the old Saying, that
England
is the
Hell of Horses,
tho' I do not think it is just neither, for this may really be said in the Case, that as the
English
work their Horses very hard, so generally speaking, they feed them very well, and take Care of them well also, and that better than in most Countries that I have been in; so I do not think it can be said, 'tis the Hell of Horses;
but that by the way.
As to
the Women,
and
England's
being
the Paradise
of Women, it chiefly relates to the good Customs and ancient Laws made in behalf of
the Ladies,
by which they have better Provisions made for them by the Law, with respect to their Claim to the Estates, and the Effects of their Husbands, after Death, and to the Right of Division among the Heirs in Personal Estates, and in some Copy-holds, and to a Right of Coheirship by the
Customs
of several Tenures, and in several Cities and Corporations, and the like, I say, better than in other Countries.
But if we come to talk of
the good Usage of Wives
in
England,
whether we speak of the generality of the Nation, or of particular Persons, I have not so much to say for them as perhaps they may expect; the good Treatment of Wives in
England
is not such, as may be much boasted of at present; nor am I of the Opinion of the antient Writers here, that used to boast of the Women of
England, that if there was a Bridge over the
Narrow-Seas,
all the Women in
Christendom
would run over into England.
In the first Place I must acknowledge, that since Drunkenness is so much encreased in
England,
to which we owe a great many other ill Customs which were never known in
England
before; I say, since this terrible eruption of Drinking in
England,
the Usage of Wives in this Country is much alter'd from what it us'd to be in former Times, and even in a few Years past: You can not doubt, but that Flood of Infatuation which has spread over the whole Kingdom in the manner I shall inform you of in its Turn, has had its Effect, not only upon the Morals, but even upon the Sences and good Manners of the
English
Nation; the very Blood and Nature of Men seems to be chang'd; with their Temperance they have lost their Temper, and with their Virtue so much of their good Humour, for which they us'd to be so fam'd, that they seem to be quite another Kind of People than their Ancestors were usually said to be, and even than I myself remember them to be.
In those Days, as the ancient Fathers have reported things,
at least to
me, there was a Softness and Tenderness among them, which I can see little of now,
especially for the Women;
they generally treated them with a courteous, kind, and respectful Manner, different in many things from other Nations; and it is to this kind benevolent Temper, to which we owe all the antient Constitutions, made in favour of the Women, which they talk so much of, and with so good Reason,
in England;
for,
in short
you see very little done in their behalf in the last fifty or sixty Years, nay, not in the last Century, nor have they any great Prospect of new Favours; 'tis well if they can retain the Privileges which the good-humour'd Ages of their Ancestors left them possess'd of.
For now the Case is quite alter'd, Family-Government is exceedingly chang'd, if not inverted, and the Men grow rigid, surly, cruel, tyrannick, and outrageous;
in a Word,
as it is the Cause of all the rest, so the Word may well comprehend all the rest,
they grow Drunken,
and when I say that, I have said all.
The Effect of this is seen abundance of Ways in their Families, for 'tis of that I am now speaking, and particularly of their Conduct, and Treatment of their Wives; that they grow Sottish and Stupid, more than ever, and by that sordid way of living, drink away their Understandings, and even their Sences also, to say nothing of their Substance and Estates; by this they become Brutish, and Sour in their Families, and at best deprive their Wives and Daughters, not only of their Care and Management, on which the Prosperity of Families so much depends, but of the Solace and Comfort of their relation, of their Company, and of all that Enjoyment which derives from what we call a Social Life.
As Drunkenness has encreas'd, so indeed, the Comfort and Family-Happiness of the Women in
England
are decreas'd in Proportion, and in that very Article their
Paradise,
if they had one before, is in my Opinion, very much alter'd, and most of the Pleasure of it lost.
But this is not all, for as Extremes follow one another, and one ill Habit may have a hundred ill Consequences, so this new Usage of Drinking as it Stupifies and makes Sots of some, so in others it affects the Passions, fires the Blood, raises their Spleen, and sends Men home to their Families mad and outregeous; so that instead of the kind, mild, and affable Temper, which the
English
Nation used to be fam'd for,
as to their Wives,
the Men are now made a Terror to them, and to their whole Families, rageing, storming, and quarreling, and too often fighting; so that if you will believe themselves, the Case of the Women in
England
is truly Deplorable, and there is scarce a good Husband now to twenty that merited that Name in former Times; nor was beating of Wives ever so much the Usage in
England,
as it is now; the Difference is manifest, and they tell me, that 'tis so frequent now, especially among the meaner sort of People, that to hear a Woman cry Murther now, scarce gives any Alarm; the Neighbours scarce stir at it, and if they do, if they come out in a Fright, and ask one another what's the Matter, and where is it that they cry Murther? the common Answer to one another is only thus; 'tis nothing Neighbour, but
such a one
a beating his Wife; O
dear,
says the other,
is that all?
and in they go again, compos'd and easie, as hearing a thing of no great Consequence, that has no great Novelty in it, nor much Danger, and what, if it had, they don't much care to meddle with; in a word, 'tis so common a thing now, to bully and abuse their Wives when they are in Drink, that I believe I may say, there are very few Men get Drunk, but that they do quarrel with, beat, or misuse their Wives, one way or other: If this be their
English Paradise,
the Women here may enjoy it by themselves; I believe none of the Wives in our Country will trouble them, or crowd in upon them for a Share of the Enjoyment.
But this is not my present Design neither; the Women's Case is too long for this Undertaking, and deserves to be consider'd by itself: It is added, that as
England
is the
Paradise of Women,
so it is the
Purgatory of Servants:
This I object against, more than I do that of Women, nay, I exclaim against it; nothing is more certain, than that as the Women's Case is made worse by the change of their Usage among us, so that of the Servants is infinitely varied the other Way; and we must allow, that the Proverb should be turn'd, and we should say, it is the
Purgatory of Wives,
and the
Paradise of Servants;
and this is the Subject I intend to entertain you with for some time.
Nothing is more visible, nor indeed, breaks in so far upon our Civil Affairs in this Nation, as the surprizing Difference that there is in the Behaviour of Servants of every Rank and Degree among us, from what it was in former Times; from what it is now in other Nations; and from what, indeed, in the Nature of the thing, ought to be every-where: The Complaint is so general, and the Grievance so very notorious, that I need enter into no Search after Evidence of Fact; I shall therefore, give you some general Account of it in this Letter, and descend to Particulars hereafter.
By Servants you are to understand me to mean, the several Denominations hereafter mention'd; for I am not going to entertain you with a long Complaint of a few Footmen, and Cook-wenches, but the Grievance possesses the whole Body of the Nation; and all that bear the Name of Servant, may be said to be more or less concern'd.
1. Apprentices, as well the Apprentices to Merchants, and more eminent Trades-Men, as the Apprentices to meaner People; such as Shop-Keepers, Handicrafts Artificers, Manufacturers,
&c.
2.
Menial Servants
such as Cooks, Gardeners, Butlers, Coachmen, Grooms, Footmen, Pages, Maid-Servants, Nurses,
&c.
all kept within Doors, at Bed and Board; that is to say, such as have Yearly or Monthly Wages, with Meat, Drink, Lodging, and Washing.
3. Clerks to Lawyers, Attorneys, Scriveners,
&c.
and to Gentlemen in publick Offices, and the like; I shall speak of the Labouring Poor, that is, of Servants
without Doors,
in a Letter by itself; for I have much also to say of them, I assure you.
In every one of these there appears a visible and important Difference, in almost every Article, which relate to them as Servants; by Difference I mean, between them and Servants of the same Class in former Years.
The first and last of these, already nam'd, I mean
Merchants Apprentices,
and
Lawyers Clerks,
might indeed, be said always to have some particular Regard shew'd them, as being oftentimes the Sons of considerable Families, bred something above the ordinary Rate of Servants, and that gave large Sums to their Masters, in order to be introduc'd into a capital Business, which they were likely to have considerable Stocks of their own to carry on; yet these differ too very much.
In former times it was usual to give great Sums, I say, with Apprentices to Merchants, but then those Sums were call'd great in those times, which are accounted but small Sums now; the Reason of that I need not examine; however, I say great Sums were given to principal Merchants; as particularly 200
l.
and sometimes, but very rarely, and more lately 300
l.
to eminent
Turkey
Merchants; To the more considerable
Spanish
and
Italian
Merchants, from 100
l.
to 150
l.
and these were the first-rate
Premio's
that were given in the City of
London,
for about 50 or 60 Years ago, nor, if I am inform'd Right, was ever more than 100
l.
given with an Apprentice to the best
Turkey
Merchant in
London,
before the Year 1640, or thereabout; and to other Merchants such as
Dutch, French, Hamburg,
and
East-Country
Merchants, in Proportion; to Shop-keepers of the first Rank, as Linnen and Woollen-Drapers, Mercers, wholesale Grocers, and other considerable Dealers, 50
l.
and afterwards 100
l.
and so of other Trades in their Proportion also.
But now such a strange Change is there upon the Face of things, that 'tis very ordinary to give a thousand Pound with an Apprentice to a
Turkey-
Merchant, 400
l.
to 600
l.
to other Merchants; from 200 to 300 to Shop-keepers, and wholesale Dealers, Linnen-Drapers especially; and so in Proportion to other Trades, and the like with Clerks to Lawyers, Attornies, Scriveners,
&c.
As the
Premio's
given with such Servants as these, are thus strangely differing from what was formerly done, so the Usage of these kinds of Servants, in the Families where they are taken, differs also; and so in Proportion does their Services they are employ'd in differ; it may be alledg'd, that upon their Masters demanding such great Sums of Money with their Apprentices, they have reason to treat them as Gentlemen, and not as Servants; to let them see that they are rather brought into their Counting-Houses as Pupils to a Tutor, and Scholars, or Students to a College, than as Servants; that their Business is to be introduc'd handsomely and reputably into Business, sent Abroad, and receiv'd into the management of Affairs, and not indeed, to be accounted, or call'd Servants, or to be us'd as such; and this may be granted; but still it breaks into the great Foundation, the Rule of
Subordination,
which I say is essential to all Family-Oeconomy, and these Youths should be called Lodgers, not Apprentices or Servants; for as their coming in differs,
as above,
in a much greater Proportion does their Behaviour and Conduct differ; the Consequence of which, in a great measure, is, that more of them are ruin'd, debauch'd, and come to nothing, for want of Subordination, and being under Government, than was wont to be the Case; to the great Calamity of their Families, especially of their Parents, of which abundince of lamentable Examples might be given; but neither is this the particular Design of these Letters, which is more especially to give you a Sketch of
Low-Life,
and describe to you the horrible degencracy of the meaner sort of Servants, and the mischiefs which this Nation suffers upon that Account.
From these kinds of Servants therefore,
I mean Apprentices to Merchants, Wholesale-Men, and the like,
I must descend to the Apprentices of meaner Tradesmen, and yet not of the labouring Trades neither, that is to say, the Handicrafts, Artificers, and the like, they remain to be mention'd by themselves.
It is but few Years ago, and in the Memory of many now living, that all the Apprentices of the Shop-keepers and Warehouse-keepers, as well in
London,
as in other Places, except the few mention'd before, submitted to the most servile Employments of the Families in which they serv'd; such as the
young Gentry,
their Successors in the the same Station, scorn so much as the Name of now; such as
cleaning
their Masters Shoes, bringing
Water
into the Houses
from the Conduits
in the Street, which they carried on their Shoulders in long Vessels call'd Tankards; also waiting at Table, waiting on their Masters to the Church, and carrying their Bibles, Prayer-Books,
&c.
and many more such things;
whereas now
the Apprentices of the very same Class, are so far from stooping to such things as these, that 'tis very rarely that they will condescend to open or shut the Shop-windows, much less to sweep the Shop, or Ware-houses; but their Masters are oblig'd to keep Porters or Footmen to wait upon the Apprentices, and do all those things for them; so far are they now from cleaning their Masters Shoes, that the Apprentices scorn to clean their own Shoes; but there are poor Women generally attending at the Shop-Doors, to do those things, as well for the Apprentices as for the Masters, and are paid for it; so far are they from being subjected to their Masters, or to their Family Discipline, that they think it hard to have any Enquiry made after them when they go out, and keep oftentimes later Hours than their Masters; and as often are pleas'd to come home in Drink, which also their Masters have scarce the Authority to resent, or question them about.
This unsufferable
Liberty,
is not so much granted by the Master, as it is assum'd by the Apprentices; and if at any times Words happen between them, 'tis very seldom but that the Servant is as high as the Master, and scorning to give an Account of his Excursions, takes it very ill to be examin'd, and much worse to be restrain'd; and tho' perhaps, they may reply in Language a little more decent than meaner Fellows talk in, yet they shall not fail to tell their Masters, they did not give such Sums of Money to be confin'd like Prisoners, or to be used like Foot-boys; and that if they (the Masters) do not like their Service, (as they wou'd call it) they are willing to be otherwise dispos'd of; not forgetting to add, that if the Master consents to Part with them, they expect Part of their Money back again,
and the like;
intimating, that the Master will bear with their Disorders, rather than part with them, and refund.
The Effect of this Insolence, for I can call it no less, is, that there are more of these Servants, call'd Apprentices, ruin'd by these
Liberties,
than one would think it was possible cou'd be found in the whole City; all manner of Wickednesses are practised by them; and as they are generally but Youths, have their Pockets unadvisedly supplied with Monies by their Relations, and thus assume Time and
Liberty
to spend it, they indulge themselves in all sorts of
Liberties:
This has been so Examplar on many Occasions, that never was so many Masters robb'd by their Apprentices as now; and I think I might give an Account of 11 or 12 young Clerks and Apprentices, that have been Hang'd here in
London,
or near it, within these few Years, besides innumerable others, ruin'd by the many several Ways of being undone; of which this Town affords them perhaps more, than any other Place in the World.
The next Head, or Class, is, that of the lower
Menial Servants;
and here, whatever is the Occasion, we find the Wages of almost all sorts of Servants doubled, and of some trebbled, as in the Article before; but for the Behaviour of these People, their Sauciness, Drunkenness, and abusive Language on the side of the Men-Servants; the gaiety, fine Cloaths, Laces, Hoops,
&c.
of the Maid-Servants, nay, even to Patches and Paint, are hardly to be describ'd; it would be a Satyr upon the Ladies, such as perhaps, they would not bear the reading of, should we go about to tell, how hard it is sometimes to know the Chamber-Maid from her Mistress; or my Lady's Chief-Woman from one of my Lady's Daughters; nor can she bear to be call'd any thing less than Mistress by the rest of the Servants; or is it altogether improper; as I shall shew in its Place.
From this gaiety of Dress, must necessarily follow Encrease of Wages, for where there is such an Expence in Habit, there must be a proportion'd Supply of Money, or it will not do.
The Pocket thus furnish'd, and the Back thus cloath'd, and the Servant thus exalted, how can it be expected she shou'd not be above herself, much more above her Business, and most of all,
which is to my Purpose,
above Reproof; to be talk'd to, is to hear how Saucy she can be, and as she is impatient of being told when she is in a Fault, so she is sure to be in as many such Faults, as ever Servants can be suppos'd to have been.
But as abundance of Faults are protected by a Saucy Tongue, and every Master or Mistress may not be quallified to scold with their Foot-men and Chamber-maids, so they rather wink at the more venial Mistakes of their Servants, than be troubled with their Clamour.
Thus I have made my first Letter a kind of Index of my whole Design, and you will see how you must be prepar'd to read a black History of the Degeneracy of
English
Servants: I shall illustrate it with some Examples as they occur to my Observations, and are apposite to the Cases where I relate them.
In the mean Time, how happy are you in
France
in this Particular, tho' in many other you do not come up to the
English,
as in the solid Security of Property, and of Religion,
&c.
but in this you out-do
England
indeed; for your Servants are indeed, Servants; a
French
Footman, if he was to write to his Master, might well subscribe, your
Humble Servant,
even in the literal Sence of it, for your Servants are Humble, and you keep them so; they are taught a due Subordination as their Introduction, and you hold them to it, and I am sure
France
is in the right of it.
But here there is no such thing as a good Servant, in the true Sence of the Word; whither the monstrous Evil may spread, and what may be the Effect, if some Laws are ot speedily made to regulate the Office of a Servant, and to prescribe to them their Bounds, sorm them into Classes, and then oblige them to do the Duty of a Servant, I say, how far it may spread, who can tell.
But when I talk of Laws to regulate this, I talk of a thing the most difficult to be done, of any-thing of that kind that I know, in
England;
I shall take up your Time a little upon the Subject hereafter.
I am,
&c.
Dear Sir, Your Brother, and humble Servant.
LETTER II.
Dear Sir,
BEing,
as by my last,
to give you some Account of the Conduct of
Low-Life
in this Country,
where it differs so much from all the rest of the World,
I propos'd to begin it by way of Preliminary, that as I have already laid down Heads of the Grievance in general, so I may now lead you a little to the Fountain from whence it flows, and the manifest Degrees by which it is swell'd to such a Height, as almost to overwhelm the National Oeconomy, and embarrass our Families in constant Vexation and Disorder.
As I hinted in my last, the miserable Circumstance of this Country is now such, that, in short, if it goes on, the Poor will be Rulers over the Rich, and the Servants be Governours of their Masters; the
Plebeij
have almost mobb'd the
Patricij;
and as the Commons, in another Case, may be said to be gotten above the Lords, so the Cannaille of this Nation impose Laws upon their Superiours, and begin not only to be troublesome, but in time, may be dangerous; in a word, Order is inverted, Subordination ceases, and the World seems to stand with the Bottom upward.
How and by what Steps things have been brought to this Height, and from whence all this Disorder proceeds,
tho' it may be Difficult to find out all the Springs and Causes which have assisted in it,
yet some Part of it may be seen in the following Particulars, which are the Preliminaries I mentioned in my last.
I. AS the People here are universally bless'd with real and valuable
LIBERTY,
more than any Nation in the World, SO the common sort are withal so possess'd with mistaken Notions of that LIBERTY in general, and of their own
Legal Liberties
in Particular, that it runs them upon the most preposterous Follies imaginable; particularly abusing that
Liberty
to indulge their Wickedness; suggesting that Liberty is a Freedom to Crime, not a Security against Oppression and Injustice.
II. AS the common People,
not Exclusive of a great Part of the Nobility and Gentry,
are miserably overwhelm'd in a Dreadful Innundation of Vice and Immorality; infinitely more than was the Case in former Days; SO the particular Vices which are most concern'd in the present Complaint, are those two above all the rest,
namely
Drunkeness, and prophane Swearing
To the Account of these two, I place the Guilt of almost all the Evils that I am now to speak of, what additional Helps may have been had from other and lesser Excursions of the Poor miserable People, who I am going to describe, I may speak to as I go on: I will not say but that as all the little Brooks and Currents descending from the rising Grounds adjacent to a River, assist to swell the Stream of that River into a Flood, so there may be many other smaller Helps from Hell, to prompt the ruin of a Nation's Peace; but these two like the principal Channels, support the main Current.
It is from these that the Passions are rais'd, Men put out of their own Government, and the general Temper of the People, as I said in my last, chang'd and alter'd; it is from hence that Calm, that Sobriety, that Kindness, and goodness of Humour which formerly was the fam'd Disposition of the People of
England,
is
chang'd,
and become
violent
and
outrageous,
from these come contempt of Government, quarrellings, and fighting with one another; insulting Masters, Employers, and every Degree of Superiors; and, in a word, innumerable other Disorders, to the breaking off all manner of Discipline and Regulation, the abuse of themselves, and the destroying the common Peace and good Neighbourhood of the People one with another.
If in describing this, I come to let you see the several Steps, by which these things have encroach'd upon the Conduct of the meaner Sort among as; how, and by what fatal Degrees their Manners were first deprav'd, and to what Extreme they are since hurried on; I flatter myself, it will be both diverting and informing, and you will not think your time lost in reading my Letters; however tedious they may otherwise be.
LIBERTT
is the Glory of an
Englishman;
'tis as Natural to him to desire it, as 'tis lawful to him to maintain it; 'tis his Inheritance, purchas'd with the Blood of his Ancestors, and as 'tis his Portion, so 'tis his Pride; but 'tis with an
Englishman
about his Liberty, as 'tis with many of them about Popery; there is a kind of national Aversion among them to Popery; 'tis the universal Scare-crow, the Hobgoblin, the Spectre with which the Nurses fright the Children, and entertain the old Women all over the Country, by which means such horror posesses the Minds of the common People about it, that I believe there are an 100000 stout Fellows, who would spend the last Drop of their Blood against Popery, that do not know whether it be a Man or a Horse,
In like manner
Liberty
is a word of Endearment, 'tis the Hereditary Favourite of the People; 'tis the Nation's Mistress, I was a going to say it was the Nation's Whore; in a Word, 'tis talk'd of by every-body, valu'd by every-body, and understood almost by no-body; this
English
Liberty is as blindly espous'd, as I said Popery was blindly hated by those who mistake it in the grosest manner.
This leads me to the Conduct of our ignorant People, in the claim they make to this thing call'd
Liberty,
and their scandalous Management of it on many Occasions.
Pray take me right as I go along, that I am talking now chiefly of the common People, tho' tis too true, that even among the better Sort there are too many, whose Notions of Liberty are not only inconsistent with true Liberty, but destructive of it; for nothing is more certain, than that true Liberty consists in a freedom to do well, not giving a Loose to the Passions, gratifying every vitious Gust, and taking off the Restraint of Laws, leaving every Man to do what is right in his own Eyes.
What the People's Notions of Liberty are, I shall best describe, by giving you some historical Examples of the Behaviour among the Common People, such as have come within the compass of my own Observation.
England
is certainly, in its constituted Liberties, the best Nation for any Subject in the World to live in, where the Laws, which are their Protection, are likewise their Inheritance; but then, for the contempt of those Laws, and abuse of Liberty, I must say, that no Nation I have been in, comes up to them: I'll venture to give you a double Example of this in one and the same Story; the Case happen'd with in the Verge of my own House, and among my own Neighbours, as follows:
You know there are very severe Laws against prophane Swearing in this Country, and the Legislature, to do them Justice, have often repeated those Laws,
and to add to their Sanction,
have made additional Clauses, to oblige the Magistrate to put those Laws in Execution, and yet I believe
Common or Customary Swearing
is no where in the World more frequent and that of a Kind particular to the
English
Nation, or perhaps to the
English
Tongue, namely, to imprecate Damnation upon themselves; a thing not only highly prophane and wicked, but absurdly so, especially in that way they practise it here.
Several Nations are addicted to the wicked Custom of Cursing, besides
England;
and especially when they are angry with, or provok'd at a Person, but then they will curse that Person pretty freely, and 'tis too much the Practice in common Discourse to curse one another;
but here
when a Man is angry with another, he curses himself; he does not say
Damn you Sir,
but
Damn me, Sir;
which is one of the foolishest as well as wickedest Ways of Speaking, that can be imagin'd.
Now this way of swearing and cursing is so frequent here, among all sorts of People, that I believe I do the
English
no Wrong in saying, no Nation in
Europe
are guilty of it to such a Degree of Madness and Absurdity.
Nor is this the Vice of the common People only, but 'tis among the Gentry, the Quality, and which is still worse, the Magistrates; so that nothing is more frequent than to hear those very Men swear, who the Law obliges by Virtue of their Office, to punish Men for swearing; in a word, the Law is not executed, because those who have the executive Power of the Law in their Hands, are guilty of the very Crime which they ought to punish; and this I Mention here, because it brings on the Story I refer to above, which is a double Example as well of the Contempt of the Law against swearing, as of the false Notion of Liberty.
I had a little Affair one Day with a Gentleman here, that is my Neighbour, which occasion'd some Words between us, but the Interposition of Friends stopt it, before it came to any Height, and we are since that, very good Friends again;
but I name it on this Account,
my Neighbour's Servant had let some Horses break into my Ground, and I had frequently caused them to be only turn'd out again, without any Complaint, other than speaking to the Servant to prevent it for the future; but I was surpriz'd afterwards, to find that the Servant was so far from endeavouring to prevent it, that in the Night he turn'd his Master's Horses in himself, and a Person I set to watch him took him in the Fact.
Upon this I Pounded the Horses, and went to my Neighbour and complain'd, but instead of finding him ready to do me Justice, I observ'd him very much concernd about it, took it very ill that I shou'd Pound his Cattle, began to justifie his Servant, and added, that he was a very honest Fellow: I was surpriz'd at that, and when he said his Man was very Honest, I told him, I did not believe him to be an honest Fellow.
He lost his Patience at this, and with a Heat, no otherwise to be exprest, than by repeating his mad Words, reply'd,
Dam me Sir,
what d'ye mean? not believe me,
Dam me,
what not believe me,
Dam me, Sir,
I can't take that; what Sir!
Dam me,
do you give me the Lye?
Dam me,
Sir, what d'ye mean?
Upon these Words thus awkwardly put together, and so repeated, he gets up, walks up and down the Room, fretting and fumeing, with twenty more
Damme
's, at last he ends it all with coming up to my Teeth, and letting fly at me, with
Dam me, Sir, explain yourself.
I kept my self as cool as I cou'd, but was oblig'd to show that I was not frighted at him, so with a kind of Smile, I said, I shou'd have explain'd myself with out his Damming so often, if he had given me Room to crow'd in a Word among his Curses.
This provok'd him more than I intended it shou'd, and he flew out at me then with the like Number of
Damme
's all over again, or rather twice as many, for my Laughing;
Dam me,
Sir, what d'ye Laugh at me? and
Dam me,
Sir, am I to be Laught at? and the like.
But to carry the Tale no farther than is to the Purpose that I am writing of, I then told him the Fact, and that I had not said I did not believe him, but that I did not believe his Man was honest; and that my Reason was because I had catch'd him opening my Gate with his own Hands, and driving the Horses into my Field, and that I had brought the Person who see him do it, to Witness against him.
Upon this my Neighour was as calm and as civil as cou'd be desir'd, for a-while, and begg'd my Pardon for being warm before; after which, the two Servants were call'd in, and heard, and my Man testify'd as above; his Servant impudently deny'd it, and my Man as positively affirm'd it; but with this, he flies out in the same Rage at my Man, as he was in before at me, and then it was
Dam me,
I won't believe a Word you say, you are a lying Dog, you see my Man denies it; my Servant then offer'd to go before a Justice, and swear it, then he flew out again, you swear it! you are a Rascal,
G— Dam me,
I won't believe your Oath, no more than your Word, and there he went storming, and swearing, and rageing about the House, and calling my Man a thousand Dogs and Villains, and between every two or three Words, was the imprecation upon himself of
G—d Dam me.
Now, had he said always
Dam you,
instead of
Dam me,
tho' it had been Wicked in it self to call upon God to Damn any body, and very Unchristian too, to curse his Neighbour, yet it had had some shew of Sence in it, it had not been both Wicked and Absurd too; but that it now seems to be of Use only to show the Dominion that our Passions have above our Reason, that they content themselves to talk the grosest Nonsence, so it does but give vent to the Rage that posesses the Mind at that time; for they will frequently call upon God, in their Passion, in the same kind of Heat, to Damn their Horses, their Dogs, or any thing that offends them, whether it has a Life of Sence, or vegetative Life, or no Life at all.
In a word, 'tis so much a Custom now in
England,
to Rage, and Damn, and Curse, in this Manner, that they not only do it without regard to Reason and Sence, but, which is still more wonderful, they do it without Thought, without being in any Passion, or under any Provocation, nay, they do it without Anger, and without any Distaste; without any Evil in their Design,
that is to say,
without thinking at-all, but as in meer Jest and Mirth.
But to return to my Neighbour; as I told you, some Friends over-hearing the Quarrel, made us Friends again, as to the Matter in dispute; and one of them a grave, sober Gentleman, took the Liberty in a mannerly and courteous Manner, to speak to him about his frequent swearing and cursing, and how ill it was for him to do so, who was a Person of Years, of Learning, and Breeding, and the like; he defended himself a-while, by saying
he thought no Harm,
the usual Defences the
English
Gentleman make for it, and which generally is very true; but when the other Gentleman carry'd it a little further, and press'd him to restrain himself in such unlawful Excesses, and he cou'd not tell what to say more than he had said, he seem'd a little warm, and answer'd, Sir, I am an
Englishman, and I love Liberty,
pray let me alone, I must have my
Liberty.
I shou'd have told you, while this happen'd, my Servant, to whom, as I said he was very passionate, was mightly affronted at being call'd such ill Names, and I heard him so very high among his Fellow-Servants in the next Room, that I went out to see what was the matter; my Man told me, in short, that what I said to him at any time was nothing, for I was his Master; but he hop'd I would not expect he shou'd take it from
Esq
— that he would not be call'd Dog, and Rogue, and Rascal, by ne'er a Gentleman in the Country; that he valued his Reputation as much as
Esq
— at any time, and that his Livelyhood depended upon it; that if he was one that would Swear any thing, and was not fit to be believ'd upon his Oath, he was not fit for any Gentleman's Service, and he cou'd not blame any Gentleman for refusing him, if he had such a Character; and therefore he was resolv'd to do himself Justice.
I knew that really all the Fellow said was true, that he was very much injur'd, and that he was, indeed, a very honest Fellow in the main, and a good Servant, as Servants in
England
go now; so I gave him good Words, and seeing he was heated, and that he had just Cause to be a little mov'd, I endeavour'd to calm him; but I found it would not do, he insisted, that he was resov'd to do himself Justice; why you Fool you,
says I,
what do you mean by doing your self Justice? you don't pretend to put yourself upon an equal Foot with this Gentleman, and go and demand Satisfaction of him, do you?
No Sir, says he,
I know myself better than that, too; but is there no way that a poor Servant may take to do himself Justice, when he is injur'd, but presently to Fight with his Superiors? I will do myself Right without Fighting,
says he;
I look'd earnestly at him upon those Words,
What way can you take,
says I?
Why, Sir,
says he,
in the first Place, I will make him pay for swearing, I hope the Law will bear me out in that.
I mus'd awhile, and it presently occur'd to me, that if my Man did make Oath that he swore 500 times, besides his cursing, he would do him no wrong, but yet, that if he did so, it would renew the Quarrel between my Neighbour and I, for he would presently say it was all my doing; so I did all that lay in my Power to perswade my Man to put it up, and let him alone; besides,
William, says I,
you know he is a powerful Man in this Part of the County, and if ever he meets you, he will certainly run you Thoro'; in the mean time his Men will abuse you, and insult you, and you will have no fair Play with them.
But I found my Man was too Warm to be mov'd by all such Perswasions as these; nor was that all, but he would stay for the Gentleman's coming out, to talk with him again: this I took up, and told him, I would have no Gentlman affronted by any Servant of mine: Well Sir,
says he, very short,
then while I am your Servant, I won't say any-thing to him, but then I hope you will dismiss me from your Service this Minute, for I must do myself Justice:
No Sir, says I, angrily,
I shan't dismiss you just now neither; why then, Sir, says he, I hope you won't take it amiss that I dismiss myself, and from this Minute I am your Servant no longer; and as I am a Free-Born
Englishman,
and no Slave, I live in a Free Nation, and must have my
LIBERTY.
O! Liberty,
said I to my self,
thou art a brave Article to set Servants above their Masters; if I had this Fellow in
France
now, or in
Germany,
or any where, but in
England,
I knew very well how to handle him; but here I must submit to my Servants.
All this I say, was only a Reflection in my own Thought; but I recover'd that Confusion his Sauciness had put me into, and I answer'd him calmly,
Well, William, you shall be dismiss'd;
so I begun to ask him what Wages was due to him, which was not above two Months, and I paid him; and order'd another Servant to take an Account of some things that were in his Custody, and let him go; but now
William, says I,
as you have dismiss'd yourself from my Service, so you must let me dismiss you out of Doors too, for I will not have you insult the Gentleman in my House; I saw this was some Uneasiness to him, but I would not stir from him, till he had stript my Livery off, put on his Frock, and went off.
As he went away, he began to Triumph, for he was now grown, not saucy only, but impudent; and clapping his Right-Hand to his Left Shoulder two or three times;
now I am my own Man again,
says he, now I am at Liberty again Sir, and Liberty is the Birthright of an
Englishman; Well, William, says I to him,
for I overheard him, but take Care how you make use of it, do not abuse your Liberty; your being an
Englishman,
and having a right to the Liberty of an
Englishman,
does not make you Equal to a Gentleman; take Care how you behave, you know there's a Whiping-Post in the Parish,
William;
yes, yes, Sir, says he, I know it, and will take Care; I will indeed; and here he repeated it two or three times in a scoffing, saucy Tone,
I will take Care.
I will, Sir,
but I will speak with
Esq
— for all that, Sir.
Look you
William, says I,
do not be ill-manner'd in my House; if you do, I will lay you by the Heels myself; I do say again, you shall not speak to him in my House.
This made him be a little civiler, but yet it was not without some Difficulty, that I got him out of my House, and the Fellow was so heated with the Usage he had, and so Drunk with his Notion, of being now at
Liberty,
that he was as much out of his Senses, as if he had been Drunk indeed with Liquor.
However at last I got him out of my House, and sent another Servant after him, to see whither he went; for I had a mind to see what he intended to do; it was not above half an Hour before my other Man came in, and told me that
William
went directly to Justice —'s, and offered to depose that the Gentleman had Sworn 200 Oaths.
The Justice endeavour'd with all his Might, to prevent his Swearing to it, in regard to the Gentleman that he swore against, who was his Friend, and question'd him so many Ways, that he had almost puzzled the Fellow, and once or twice he was going away, to see for another Justice, telling that Justice, that the Law gave him
Liberty,
and he was an
Englishman,
and wou'd have
his Liberty;
and as long as he was sure he swore nothing but the Truth, he would not be directed; that he came there to swear to the Truth, and he would take the Hazard of what follow'd.
However, the Justice, by good Words, and Perswasions, brought him down to threescore, and he would come down no lower, but appeal'd to me, and desir'd the Justice to ask me; so the Justice took his Oath, and dismiss'd him; after this, the Justice seeing another of my Servants there,
as above,
beckon'd to him to stay; and when the Fellow was gone, he bade him desire of me, that I would call and see him in the Evening.
In the mean time the first Gentleman staid in my House, I had given him an Account of all that had happen'd; and much Difficulty I had to keep him from going out, to chastise this Fellow (as he call'd it) himself; however, I did prevail with him, for, indeed, as I knew the Fellow would be sawcy, and that the Gentleman was warm also, and passionate, I was afraid he should kill him; and I was willing to prevent that kind of Mischief.
But I was deliver'd from my Anxiety for a Time, by the following Accident: The Gentleman had two Servants that waited while their Master was with me, and they overheard the Account my Servant had given me of what
William
had done, and they walk'd out into the Street, of their own Accord, (for I can bear their Master witness, he knew nothing of it) and finding
William
loitering about in the Street, one of them went up to him, and ask'd him what was the Matter, and what he did there?
William
answer'd, very surlily, that he waited there to speak with his Master, meaning
Esq
—; my Master!
says the Servant,
What do you mean by that? don't you know where my Master, lives? can't you come to his House? what, do you pretend to way-lay him in the Street? If you have any-thing to say to my Master, come to Morrow Morning, and I'll engage my Master will let you speak to him.
William
now began to be more in the Wrong, than he had been in the Right before; for I could not say, but that at first,
William
was in the Right.
But as the Servant talk'd thus far very calmly, and rationally to
William,
so
William
talk'd hot, and high; told the Fellow, his Master had abus'd him (
William
) without a Cause, and that he was not a Servant now, but at Liberty, and he would not be abus'd by any Gentleman whatever; and he would speak with him,
ay, that he would.
Very well,
says the Servant,
jeeringly; so you are now my Master's Equal, are you? and you intend to demand Satisfaction of him, do you? Pray. where's your Sword,
Esq
William?
where's your Sword?
Liberty
has made you a Gentleman, I find that, and Gentlemen never go without a Sword.
Well, Mr. Servitor,
says William,
if I am not your Master's Fellow, you are not my Fellow neither, till you have stript off your Livery as I have done; your Master has abus'd me, and I took it from him, but I won't take it from you.
My Master abus'd you! Sirrah, my Master abuses no-body,
says the Servant.
Yes,
says William,
he has abus'd me, and he shall know it too, as soon as I can see him.
You
Dog
you,
says the Servant,
do you threaten
my Master?
What, do you wait here to assassinate him? Prethee
John, says he to his Fellow,
go fetch a Constable, I'll take Care of
Esq
William,
since he won't stay till to Morrow Morning to speak with our Master; I'll secure him for to Night, and he shall wait for him in the Cage.
Away goes
John
for a Constable; but while he was gone,
William
grew very insolent, and giving the Servant ill Language, and upon his Master too, they fell from one Word to another, and then to Blows; and tho'
William
was a stout Fellow of his Hands, yet the other Fellow was too hard for him, and
William
was upon the Point of yielding, when the Constable came, and carried them both before the Justice; the same before whom
William
had been swearing.
William
was as high before the Justice, as he was before with the Gentleman's Servant, and behav'd not only warm, but impudent; he was a
Free-Man,
he said, and not a
Slave;
and if a Gentleman had injur'd him, he wou'd be at Liberty to tell him so.
The Justice perswaded him, and told him, he ought to be quiet, till another time, as the Footman had perswaded him to be; that to stay in the Street, and talk as he had done, was threatning the Gentleman, and that he ought to be search'd, if he had no Weapons about him.
William
offer'd himself to be search'd, and indeed, he had no Weapons, nor did he intend to do any thing, but to be saucy with his Tongue, which he might have paid dear enough for too, as I observ'd; but the Justice took Care of him for that Night, and the next Morning made him bring Sureties for the Peace, the Servant making Oath, that he gave both his Master and him too, threatning Language of his being reveng'd, and the like.
The rest of the Story is short,
viz. William,
was humbled for the Liberty of his Tongue, but the Gentleman was forced to pay for his threescure Oaths, and so for that time
William
had no great Benefit of his being Free-born, or an
Englishman.
But
William
is not the only Example of the prostituting this glorious thing call'd
English Liberty
to the basest Purpose; I must tell you another Story, which happen'd in the Compass of my own Family too.
I had a Steward, or as the
English
call them, a Baily, who look'd after a small Concern which I have in the Country, and who I trusted with the whole Management of it, to such a Degree, that he had several Workmen and Servants employ'd by me, under him, and whose Business was left to his Care and Inspection.
This Fellow I had a particular Confidence in, and a very good Opinion of, and' very unwilling I was to hear any Accusation against him; and the more, because several things that had been alledg'd against him, when they came to be enquir'd into, and examin'd, were sound either so trivial as to be not worth Notice, or he so effectually clear'd himself, that nothing cou'd be fasten'd upon him.
But one of my Servants, who I employ'd, in another Business, remote from that where this Steward was employ'd, came very seriously to me one Morning with a sad Complaint,
viz.
that his Wife had been gone from him some time, and that, tho' he had with the utmost Application search'd her wicked Haunts, and had for some Years suspected it, and been assur'd of it from others, that she kept Company with my said Steward, yet he cou'd never come at a Certainty of it till now; that now he was fully perswaded it was so, and hop'd I would do him so much Justice as to put a Check to it.
I smil'd at the weakness of his last Request, tho' I pity'd the poor Man in the former part of his Disaster; for says I, you know 'tis out of my Power: If my Man will be wicked I have no Power to restrain him; as if your Wife will be a Whore, you see you cannot restrain her; Liberty
you know,
in
England, says I,
is too often claim'd for a Freedom to do wickedly, and what can I do for you?
Besides says I, but what Proof is there of the Fact? for what can I pretend to talk to him about, when upon his denying the Fact,
as to be sure he will,
I shou'd produce no Evidence; my Mouth
said I,
will be stopt; he own'd he had no positive Proof to produce, but he gave me such particular Discoveries, that I was convinc'd it was really so, as well as he; so I told him I would talk with the Stewart about it.
Accordingly one Morning I took the Liberty, after other Discourse of Business was over, to tell my Steward, what Rumour was rais'd upon his Conversation with such a Man's Wife, and that (they said,) he was so open, and barefac'd in it, that he kept her at such a Place, and so told him other Circumstances, which began to put him hard to it; however he deny'd it very stifly; look ye, said I, if it is so, I am very sorry for it, and I expect you will consider of it: He answer'd, after again denying it, that he had always taken Care of my Business, and hop'd I would be satisfied with that, and that I would not enter into other Matters, and listen to the false Accusations of his Enemies, who were his Enemies chiefly, because he took Care that they shou'd not abuse and impose upon me; and so in a Word, did as good as say, that if he minded my Business, I had no Right to meddle with him any further.
I took him a little short there, and told him, that it was true, that I had no Power to examine him, or to punish him, if he was guilty; but that if the thing was true, it was really an Insult upon me, and my Family, the Woman's Husband, as he knew, being a Relation to me, at some distance, tho' he was my Servant too, and that as he was also intrusted and employ'd by me, he might depend I shou'd think it hard, that one who receiv'd so many Benefits from me, should have so little Respect for me, as to debauch a Woman who was Marry'd to one of my Relations, and should do it, as it were, under my Nose.
He reply'd, tho' with Respect, that he hop'd I would not think myself concern'd in the Clamour; that as he did not own he was guilty of any such thing, and no-body cou'd prove it, he desir'd I would not believe any thing of it, till it was prov'd.
I told him, as to Proof in Law, it was none of my Business, but that I doubted there was Proof enough to make it reasonable to believe it, and that it was not sufferable; he told me in so many Words, that he thought it was hard to be examin'd so close about it; that he took Care to mind my Business, and cou'd not be charg'd with omitting it; as to other things, he was an
Englishman,
and desir'd to have his
LIBERTY,
and so my Man and I parted.
This is the Use, or rather these are some of the Uses, they make of Liberty in this Part of the World; I'll trouble you with but one Example more, and dismiss this Part; in the late Queen's Reign, when the Earl of
Gallaway
commanded the
British
Troops in
Spain,
sent thither as Auxilliaries to King
Charles,
now Emperor, the Army begining to grow sickly, it was said the Soldiers got the Flux by eating Grapes, and other green Fruit.
Upon this, the General publish'd an Order, that the Soldiers should not eat any Grapes for a certain time, upon Pain of Death; and none of the Suttlers, or Peasants, were allowed to bring any Grapes into the Camp, upon the like Penalties.
But as
Englishmen
are not fam'd for being the most easie to be restrain'd in such Cases, so some of the
English
Soldiers had got out of the Camp, and not being able to refrain the tempting Fruit, had gorg'd themselves with Grapes, and three of them fell Sick of the Flux; upon which the General sent to have them brought before him; but when the Officers came to fetch them, truly, they were so near being dead, tho' not dead, that they were not in a Condition to be stirr'd, and I think two of them died that Night; however one of them being told, the General had sent for them, and being ask'd, if he had eaten any Grapes, he boldly answer'd yes; at which the Officer asking how they durst presume to break the General's Orders, adding, that if he recover'd, he would certainly be hang'd, the Fellow answer'd, as for hanging, there was no need to hang them, they were dead Men already; and as to the General's Orders, they had obey'd him in every thing, relating to their Business as Soldiers; but as to the rest, they were
ENGLISH-MEN,
and thought they ought to have their
LIBERTY,
and that they had a Right to kill themselves whenever they pleas'd
It seems they all died, and so prevented Justice; for the Excuse was of no Weight, because the Prince has a Right to the Service of his Subjects, and no Man can kill himself, without a Crime against his Sovereign, as well as against Heaven: But 'tis apposite to my Purpose, namely, the Notion we have of
Liberty
here, and the Abuse of that
Liberty.
Be pleas'd to observe now, that when I speak of
Liberty
being abus'd in
England,
I keep my Eye principally upon the Morals of the Nation, upon the Abuse of the Laws, made for the Preservation of good Manners among Men, and the Encouragement given by the Negligence of those who ought to punish the Breakers of those Laws.
There are several Sorts of Liberty, which are grossly abus'd here, as well as this;
for Example,
First,
Religious Liberty;
it is true, I that abhor Persecution for Religion, do not complain of this, as if there ought not to be a
Liberty
granted to conscientious Christians to worship God in the Manner which they believe to most agreeable to his Will, and most edifying to themselves; but I cannot but think that
Liberty
grossly abus'd, when 'tis made use of to protect those who deny all Reveal'd Religion; who, instead of a
Liberty
in Religion, claim a
Liberty
to be of no Religion at-all.
I observe, the Toleration of Dissenters, which is what they found their Religious
Liberties
upon, is commonly call'd, an Act for
Liberty of Conscience;
in my Opinion, that very Title explains the Meaning of the Law, that it is to give
Liberty
to Tender Consciences
to worship God.
&c. as I say above: This cannot import a Liberty to harden'd Consciences, to worship
no God at all,
and to sear neither
GOD
or
Devil.
There are great Disputes about Religion in this Nation, as well as in other Places, perhaps more here than any-where else; but the Dispute I take Notice of, is not between this and that Religion, or this and that Sect or Opinion in Religion, but betwixt
GOD
and
Devil;
a Man shall come into my Company, and blaspheme God, deny his Redeemer, and make a Mock of all Religion, and then tell me, he is an
Englishman,
and claims
Liberty;
that there is a Law to give Liberty of Conscience,
&c.
this is unsufferable, and Liberty of Conscience has nothing to do in the Case; the Man both by the Laws of God, and of all Christian Nations, ought to be punished; there's, nothing of Religion or Conscience in the Case.
There is a Parallel Case in this very same Constitution, and Government; we have a perticular Liberty here, and what we value ourselves very much upon, and this is call'd,
the Liberty of the PRESS,
that is to say, that every Man is at Liberty to Print and Publish what he pleases.
But notwithstanding all this
Liberty
of the Press, the Government frequently take up both
Authors
and
Printers,
if they Printany thing offensive, or against the
Administration;
or if they publish any Personal Reflections, the Person injur'd if these Reflections are unjust and slanderous, has a Right to prosecute the Publisher and Author, and will have his Remedy at Law.
Again, the Government claim to resent injurious Reproaches, Sarcasms, and Satyrs, upon any foreign Prince or State in alliance with
England,
and may oblige the Authors and Publishers to answer for all such Indecencies;
for Example,
one Author, and a
Frenchman
too, who wrote a Publick Paper, was taken up here for printing that the
Duke of Luxemberg
was Hump-shoulder'd, and yet you and I, that have seen him so often at the Head of the
French
Armies, know very well how eminent a Truth it was.
Another in the Reign of the late Queen, was sent for upon the Complaint of the
Russian
Minister, Resident here, for likening the Czar of
Muscovy to a Siberian Bear,
and tho' he did not really call his
Czarish
Majesty
Siberian Bear,
but only liken'd some of his Actions to the Behaviour of that
Northern
Creature, yet he was oblig'd to make his Submission, beg Pardon, and be very thankful for being discharg'd so cheap.
Yet all this consists with the Liberty of the Press, which is (as all Liberty should be) understood, a
Liberty
to do well, but not a Liberty to do
Evil.
"Restraint from ill, is Freedom to the Wise,
"And Good Men, wicked Liberties despise.
I am, Dear Sir, Your Brother, And humble Servant,
LETTER III.
SIR,
I N my first Letter I gave you some of my Observations upon the wretched Notions which the People here, have entertained of that glorious thing call'd
Liberty:
and how that
Liberty,
which is the best of Mankind's Privileges, is abused in the grossest Sence, and applied to the meanest and most scoundrel Purposes; I shall now bring it all down to the Design I am upon, and let you see how these false Notions of
Liberty,
getting into the Heads of the common People, have Intoxicated their Brains, and have, in a word, destroy'd all Subordination among us, and joining with the Invasion of our Morals, of which I am next to speak, has set the World, (as I said) with the Bottom upwar'd, and have rais'd such a Devil among our Servants, as will not easily be laid.
I am therefore now to lay before you something of what I call the great Innundation of Vice, that has thus tainted the Nation's Morals, and which in particular, has debauch'd the common People.
In order to this, I desire you will take this whole Letter as a Parenthesis, or Degresion, as it breaks in upon what went before; and after which, I shall go on in my next where I left off in my last; so that you may at any Time connect or join the Observations, without this Part, which is rather a History, but which you will find so necesiary to the Understanding of the whole, that I believe you will not think it any Interruption in your Reading.
At my very first coming into
England,
having not yet engag'd in settled Business, I lik'd both the Place and the People so well, that I resolv'd to make my stated Residence here for my Life; in order to this, I began to look upon the Place as my Native Country, and immediately applied to my Friends to get myself Naturaliz'd, that I might settle my Fortunes here, as Providence should direct.
To this purpose also, I resolv'd for one of my first Steps,
as I would advise all Gentlemen to do, whether Natives or Forreigners,
to make myself thorowly accquainted with the whole History of the Country, and then with its Antiquities, so that I should be Master both of its
antient State,
its
present State,
and also its Government, and Laws, and of the Customs and Manners of the People; the delightful Study of this took me up something above a Year, in which time I read over, and that very carefully, all the best Histories of the Island, in which are recorded the general Introduction of Laws, Rights, Soveraignty, and civil Goverment in the Nation; and account of the first Inhabitants, and with what Gallantry and Bravery they defended their
Liberty
against the several Invasions of the
Romans, Picts, Saxons, Danes, Normans,
and the Wars and Bloody Battles which afterward happen'd between those contending Nations, for the maintaining the Conquests they had made, and keeping the Possessions, which they had mark'd out to themselves in this Island.
In reading these Histories, I came to understand how the People of this Nation came to be possess'd of such unusual
Privileges
and
Liberties,
such as no Nation enjoy but themselves, and what original Plea of Right they have to make for them; a Plea which appears so just, and excepting some Intervals, when their Monarchs, uneasie to be under the Restraint of Laws, and be, as it were, govern'd by their People, have made Attempts to get out of those Fetters, and free the
Crown,
as they call'd it, from popular Bondage,
in which Attempts too, they have always miscarry'd;
I say, excepting which, their Plea of Right has been always so demonstrably just, that their best Kings have willingly yielded to them, and thought it a sufficient Glory to their Family, to be possess'd of a Monarchy so flourishing,
even with all its Limitations.
But as I observ'd, there have been Intervals of this Peace, and some of their Princes, as above, impatient of Restraint, have broken the
Circle of Government,
attempted to make themselves arbitrary, assum'd a despotick Right, and trampling on the Laws and Constitution of the Kingdom, have broken out into Oppressions and Ravages on the Properties of their Subjects, in manifest Violation of the Laws, which even those very Princes had sworn to rule by; but then, on the contrary, it should be observ'd also, that these Violations of Right,
as I call them,
never fail'd to meet with Opposition from the Subjects; the People, on all those Occasions,
being assisted by the Nobility and Gentry,
frequently had recourse to Arms, to vindicate their just Rights, and free themselves from Tyranny and Oppression; and 'tis to be observ'd, with some Wonder, almost upon all these Occasions the Kings had the worst; as their Claims were unjust, their Attempts were unsuccessful, and some of them were compell'd to undo what they had done, and restore the People to their Liberty; as King
Stephen,
and King
Hen.
III. K.
John;
K.
Hen.
IV. and others; and last of all, K.
James
II. Others were entirely ruin'd, depos'd, and lost both Power and Life; as King
Edw.
II.
Richard
II.
&c.
These were the
Rights
and
Liberties
of
Engglishmen,
of which so much has been said in the World, and of which such strange Constructions, and such simple Use is made in these Days, of which I shall say more as I go on; and for this Reason it is, I take this Notice of it here.
As thus I made myself Master of the History, and
ancient State
of
England,
I resolv'd in the next Place, to make myself Master of its
present State
also; and to this Purpose, I travell'd in three or four several Tours, over the whole Island, critically observing, and carefully informing myself of every thing worth observing in all the Towns and Countries through which I pass'd.
I took with me an
ancient Gentleman
of my Acquaintance, who I found was thorowly acquainted with almost every Part of
England,
and who was to me as a walking Library, or a moveable Map of the Countries and Towns through which we pass'd; and we never fail'd to enquire of the most proper Persons in every Place where we came, what was to be seen? what Rarities of Nature, Antiquities, ancient Buildings were in the respective Parts? or, in short, every thing worth the Observation of Travellers.
I have often complain'd, that tho' the
English
Historians, especially in their relating Facts, have been very particular and distinct; and the Histories of the several Wars in
England
are very well written, yet that they are all very indifferent in their
Geography,
and that the Reader is spoken to, as supposing he knew before where every-thing spoken of, was done, and how every Town or Country mention'd, was situated; whereas I, that was a perfect Stranger to these things, should have been greatly at a Loss: But to remedy this, I had always the Maps of every Country before me, at the same time that I read the History; as also, I had a Book, entitled
Britannia,
written by that very learned Antiquary, Mr.
Camden,
and some other Books too, which treat of the natural History, as well as the Antiquities of every County; with these Helps in my travelling, together with my learned Companion, I was generally inform'd of every thing material, wherever I came; whereas, without these I might have gone thro' many, Places where valuable Antiquities, and other Curiosities of Nature or Art were to be seen, and have known nothing of them; and he that travels
England
without such Helps, may in many Cases, almost as well, stay at Home.
But to come to that which is more particular to my present Purpose, and which is the Reason of giving you this Account of my Travels; by this Means I became particularly acquainted with the common People, as well as with the Country, in every Place where I came; I observ'd their Language, that is, the several Dialects of it, for they strangely disfer in their Way of expressing themselves, tho' in the same Tongue; and there is as much difference between the
English
Tongue, as spoken in the
North
of
England,
and the same Torgue, as spoken in the
West,
as between the French spoken in
Normandy,
and that of
Gascogne,
and
Poictou
I; say, I became accquainted with their Language, Customs, Manners, Tempers, and above all with their Morals, which is the thing I shall have most Occasion to speak of in these Letters: I shall trouble you now with no more, relating to my Travels, I may in time satisfie the other Part of your late Request, and give you a full account of the Country, which indeed, is well worth a Traveller's Pains to see, and a Reader's trouble to look over; but I have not now time to revise my Journals, and the Minutes which I took of things every where as I pass'd, which are very critical I assure you, and fruitful, of a very diverting as well as instructing variety; that Part I must refer to another Occasion.
My Friend who went with me, was very curious also, and the more because I requested it of him, in making Enquiries into, and Observations upon the Customs and Manners of the People, which,
as I mention'd above,
are the principal things which I am now speaking of.
I observe several of the Authors I have just now mentioned, have written largely of the antient Families of the Nobility and Gentry of
Great-Britain;
their Originals, Names, Arms, and sometimes the History of particular Men among them, who have made themselves famous in the World, of which the Gentry of
England
have produc'd many.
But I meet with very few that take Notice of the common People; how they live, what their general Employment is, and what the particular Employment of them is in the several Counties respectively, and yet I found this an Enquiry very full of useful Observations, and attended with innumerable Incidents, which gave Light into things of the greatest Moment, as well in History as Antiquity; and which seem'd to add a Part in the Knowledge of the Country, which a Traveller cou'd not be without.
To come to the Point, 'tis necessary to observe to you, as the Ground-Work of my whole Design, that the common People of this Country have suffer'd a kind of general Revolution, or change in their Disposition, Temper and Manners, within a certain Term of Years, (
which I shall mark out to you in its Place also,
) I say they have suffer'd a general change, such as I believe no Nation has undergone but themselves; I wish I cou'd say it was a change for the better; but be that as it will, I shall endeavour to give you an impartial Account of it as it is.
It is in the next Place needful to observe to you, that I took this Journey at the unhappy Time when this Change, or Revolution in the Manners and Temper of the common People was in the height of its Operation, namely, in the Years 1684, to 1688; for I was near four Year before I finish'd my Travels.
I that was then a Stranger to the People, tho' not altogether to the Place, was not fully accquainted with their just Character in Times past; but my Companion, upon whose Judgement I very much depended, and who being an observing as well as an antient Man, had been conversant among them for threescore Years before; supply'd me in that Part, in a Manner, which no Books or Maps cou'd do, for this Part is, as I have said, scarce meddl'd, with in History.
'He told me, that he first was acquainted among the common People by his Father's being a very great Clothier in the
West-Country;
in consequence of which Business, he employ'd many Hundreds,
I think he said Thousands,
of the Labouring Poor; that he acted under his Father for some Years, but then went into the
North
and
North-East
Parts of
England;
as first, into the
West-Riding
of
York-shire,
bordering on
Lancashire,
and after that into
Lincolnshire,
and
Norfolk;
and that his Business was chiefly buying of
Lincolnshire,
and
Leicestershire
Wool, which by the way, is the best and fittest for Manufacturing in
England,
and by this trading moving kind of Life,
added he,
I came to converse among the Poorer sort of People, Farmers, and Manufacturers of every kind, from
Lancashire
and
Westmoreland,
in the
North;
down to
Lincolnshire,
and
Leicestershire,
and thence into
Norfolk, Suffolk,
and
Essex;
and especially among the Servants of all these Countries, such as Husbandmen, Day-Labourers, and Workmen; also Servants in Gentlemen's and Tradesmen's and Farmers Families, and the like.
I listen'd very carefully to his Discourse, because this was the Part that I more particularly intended to inquire into; and often desir'd him to tell me what that kind of People they were in his Time; for what they were then, and how they behav'd then, we both knew very well.
'He told me that about the Year 1634 to 38, when he began to be conversant in the World on his own Account, the common People were plain, fair-dealing, sober, openhearted, courteous. humble; that generally speaking, they were very honest in their dealing, and in many Places religious and conscientious in their Conversation; that the Servants were modest, humble, mannerly, and very subservient to those who entertain'd and employ'd them; that the
Apprentices
either to Tradesmen or Handicrafts, were quiet, dilligent, submitted chearfully to Family-Business, Orders, and Hours; were laborious, and work'd hard for their Masters Benefit, having their Eyes at the Time, when by the expiration of their Terms, they should have the Benefit of their Industry, and of the Labour of other Servants for themselves; nay,
said he,
even in
London,
the Servants and Apprentices to Shop-Keepers, Warehouse-Keepers, and to the best Merchants, thought it not below them to stoop to the meanest needful things in their Business; such as assisting Package of Goods; clearing, setting to Rights, and Sweeping their Warehouses, Counting-Houses, and Shops; loading Carts, opening and shutting Doors and Windows,
&c.
of which hereafter.
'The Wages of the Poor,
said he,
were not more then, tho' their Labour was greater, but just the contrary; the Wages of hir'd Servants were then from 30
s.
per
Annum,
to 50
s.
for a Maid-Servant; 6
d.
to 8
d,
and 10
d.
a Day to a Labouring or Husband-Man; farther in the
North-West
Country, not so much; the Farmers hir'd their yearly Men-Servants, who they took into the House for 40
s,
and their Diet; the Gentlemen. had their Serving-Men or Footmen, to whom they also gave their Diet for 30
s
to 40
s.
a Year; and as to Nobleman, and Persons of Quality, they had their Footmen,
as we now call them,
of the Sons of their Tennants, who thought it their Honour to be taken into the Service and Family of the Lord of the Mannour; and had a Badge of that Honour,
viz.
a Livery given them of Russet-Cloth with a Badge, or Mark of his Lordship's Arms; and at
Christmass
a Rose-Noble in Silver, to bless their Pockets; nor was there any need for such as those to have more Wages, for their Lord generally prefer'd them after certain Terms of Service, to be Tennants of small Farms, or made them Cottages, and put them into a Way to get their Bread by Honest Labour, and dilligence in Husbandry, which was the utmost of their Ambition.
I look'd earnestly at him, while he talk'd thus, and after he had done, pray then, said I, when, and from what Causes and Beginings, came that strange Alteration of things which we see now? for the Country People, as well as the Trades-People in Towns and Cities, are quite another sort of Folks at this time, than what you speak of? and as for the Servants, they move in another kind of Circle, and do not understand the Language you talk of.
O, says he, 'tis a dismal and melancholly thing to tell you, how this Alteration has happen'd; and you that are a Stranger, will neither have Patience to hear it, or be able to give Credit to it, when you do.
I assur'd him I wou'd convince him of the contrary; for,
says I,
you see I am so desirous to know these things, that I can never be dissatisfied with the Relation, however long; and as for giving Credit,
I told him,
I knew him too well, not to depend entirely upon the Truth of whatever he related to me, as Truth, and of his own Knowledge; for that I was assur'd he would not mislead me in any thing.
He then went on with his Discourse, and beginning at the History of the late three Reigns; First he told me, that after the Death of Queen
Elizabeth,
when King
James
the First came to the Crown, things immediately began to take a new turn; he told me, that during the whole Reign of that Prince, they had in
England
a most dissolute Court, where the Nobility and Gentry and Courtiers, after the Example of the King himself, delighted in Masques, Interludes, Bacchanalian Feasts, Riots, and all manner of Luxury not, says he, to mention the more wicked Parts of it.
'That after King
Jawe's
Death, his Son, tho' a Prince of great Personal Temperance and Modesty, yet Vice and Immorality having gain'd a footing among the Courtiers, the King cou'd do little to abate the Riot of it; being at the same time perplex'd with the constant Difficulties of his Affairs; so that the Flux of Riot and Luxury, which began in his Father's Reign receiv'd no other Check in King
Charles
the First's time, than what a good Example in the King might give to it, and that was not sufficient, while the Courtiers gave themselves a Liberty to go on, as they had begun.
'But that which follow'd, said he, was still worse, and finish'd the Ruin of the Morals of our People, especially of the Gentry throughout the Nation, and more especially of those who took Part with the King in the Troubles which follow'd; for the King, said he, being oblig'd by the Fate of the Day to raise an Army against his tumultuous Subjects; and that Army being compos'd
not of listed Troops, as now,
in which Case the Law of
Subordination
being rigorously and solemnly observ'd, the Officers are as subject one to another, as the meanest Soldiers; but the King's Army being rais'd by the generous Contribution of the Loyal Gentry, the Officers were all Gentlemen and Volentiers, that serv'd upon Principles of Love and Loyalty to their Prince, and not for Pay; and the King not having always Money to pay them if they had ask'd it, could not, at the same time, tie them up to Laws of War, and Rules of Discipline,
as is now the Case;
nor cou'd he always shew his Resentment, much less punish them when they committed even the most detestable Crimes; for that so many would interest themselves to intercede, that if the King should deny a Pardon, they would pretend to be disoblig'd, talk of being illtreated, their Services disregarded,
and the like,
and the next Word was quitting the Army; so that the King was oblig'd to wink at all the Extravagancies, Plunderings, Rapes, nay, and even Murthers too, not being in a Condition to do that Justice which the Law and a free Administration call'd for.
'If the King was thus disabl'd from punnishing Capital Crimes,
says the old Gentleman,
less cou'd he dip into lesser Mistakes; such in particular, as the common Excesses and Extravagancies of his Officers; the Oaths and Execrations to this Day so common among the Soldiers; and the Drunkenness, the Debaucheries, and Violences attending them, and spreading among the Soldiers, by the Example of their Officers; but he, the King, was oblig'd to satisfie himself with verbil Reproof, Entreaties, and such Ways as might show his dislike of the thing, without Resentment at the Person; and if he had not done thus, he would have had but few Soldiers to Fight for him.
'It was here,
said my Friend,
that this dreadful unnatural Imprecation of calling on God to
Damn them,
first broke out; here it was first Invented, and first made Use of; on the other hand as for the Parliament's Army,
said he, whether it was really Religion, or a religious Policy, be that to themselves,
yet as they carried on a Pretence of Religion in their Cause, so they maintain'd the Face of Religion, and more than common Sanctity in their Armies; and as they wanted no Money to Pay all their Troops, both Officers and Soldiers; so they had them all at command, and were under no Obligation to a relax Discipline; and by this, they gain'd insensibly on the Country; to make this difference more sensible to me, he told me a Story of the Master of
Scole-Inn,
in
Norfolk;
the Man,
whether meerly keeping good Hours in his Family, or that he had some Extraordinary Business that requir'd his rising early the next Morning, he cou'd not remember; but the Man I say,
was gone to Bed one Night something sooner than usual, and locking up his Gates, and, as was his Custom, taking the Key's up with him into his Chamber, he was but newly in Bed, when he was rais'd with a Noise of rapping and thundering at the Gate; a Servant Maid that was up about her Kitchin-Affairs, goes to the Gate, and asks who was there? they bid G—d D—n her, why did she not open the Gate? one cry'd, shoot her; and another Damn her cut her Throat, and the like; but the Wench finding they were Soldiers, pray'd them to be quiet, she would go up to her Master for the Key's, and let them in presently; so she runs up to the Master's Chamber-Door, and calls to him; the Man just fallen into his first Sleep, did not wake presently, and the Wench was almost as impatient at the Chamber-Door, as the Troopers were without, who began to knock and lay on at the Gate again; at last, the Man waking, and hearing what was the matter, starts out of Bed, and began to put on his Cloaths; Soldiers! says he, Troopers! who are they for? for! says the Wench, you need not ask who they are for;
they are for the King
to be sure,
hark how they swear.
'Here my Friend stopp'd, as if he had done; well but Sir,
said I,
what is this to the strange Turn given to the Poor common People, and labouring Poor, the Servants, and the like, who, you say, were so plain, so open-hearted, so quiet, so modest, and so low-priz'd since you can remember; whence came the Change upon them?
'Well, says he, I am coming to that, I shall Account for it, as plainly as for the other; after the War was over, and the Royal-Family, was restor'd, Things took a new Turn again; the out-side of Religion, which the Parliament's People had maintain'd,
be it, that it was from right or wrong Principles,
had had this good Effect, namely, that it kept the World sober; but upon the return of Monarchy at the Restoration, the Court was all Mirth and Gayety again, and the whole Nation rejoic'd with them;
their Joy was, without question, just, no body disputed that Part;
but unhappy for
England,
they cou'd find no way to Express an exceeding Joy, but by an excess of Crime; and particularly, that most brutish of all Crimes, Drunkenness, which overspread the Nation like a Winter-Flood, and a torrent of Oaths, and Prophaneness follow'd of course.
'He then descended to Particulars; the Families of the Nobility and Gentry, said he, were all universally touch'd with these wicked doings; in particular,
said he,
Drinking
Healths began here;
a thing, till then not known in
England;
the King's Health, the Health of all the Royal-Family one after another, six Glasies in a Hand; he that had the Victory at the Glass, was the best Subject; Drunkenness grew a Test of Loyalty; and nothing that was sober, cou'd keep Company, without being affronted.
'And yet had this been all, one cou'd hardly expect less from a Nation overwhelm'd with Joy, at the return of the Royal-Family, and the restoring the Fortunes and Circumstances of so many ruin'd Families, and exil'd Cavaliers; but not content with this, the Custom of imposing Healths upon every-body that came into Company, follow'd it; so that no-body cou'd visit his Friend without being made Drunk.
'Nor was it enough to drink the King's Health, with the Healths of all the Royal-Family, and of General
Monk,
and of the Royal-Oak, and every simple mad thing they cou'd think of; but then, in spight of the Act of Oblivion, and the King's exhorting the People in his Speeches to Parliament to forget all former things, Words of Distinction, and Marks, and Names of Reproach, they must then drink Confusion to the Rump, Damnation to
Oliver Cromwell
and all his Race, Confusion to the Phanaticks, and a thousand such extravagant things; all which had this additional Evil in the Practice, namely, that they serv'd to pour Wine down the Throats of the whole Company, and make Drunkenness overspread Society in general.
'Neither was this only practis'd at the beginning of the Restoration, but it held on, even to the Death of King
Charles
the 2
d.
at the latter-end of whose Reign, as if it had slack'd before, and that they were afraid the Nation should grow Sober again, the Tide of Drunkenness, which had but seem'd to Ebb a little, came on again with a surprizing reflux; especially upon the Divisions at the latter-end of the Popish Plot, between
Whig
and
Tory,
and particularly upon the Subject of the Bill of Exclusion.
'Till then, Drunkenness had not so universally spread itself among the common People; the Gentlemen contented themselves with being Drunk, and making one another so, but upon that Occasion, it became a Politick Interest to make Servants, Tennants, Tradesmen, and every-body, Poor, as well as Rich drink to Excess; drinking the Duke of
York's;
Health became a new Test of Society, and of Loyalty; drinking to the Succession in the Right-Line; Confusion to the Presbyterians; to all those that were for the Bill of Exclusion; and the like.
'Now came on frequent Dissolutions, and Elections of Parliament, and in consequence of that, the Bribery and Corruption, the Treating for Elections, and all those Treatings attended with Excessive Drinking, increased to such a Degree, that in a few Years the Habit of Drunkenness, and the Drinking of Healths,
as above,
spread by the Example of the Gentlemen to the Tennants, to the common People in the Corporations, to the Servants, and in short, to the whole Body of the People.
'And tho' it was true, that there remain'd a great many sober, good, religious People in the Nation,
and 'tis to be hop'd there does
so still,
yet here began the Ruin of the Nation's Morals; here the Poor got a smatch of Drunkenness, and withal a dreadful Habit of swearing, raging, and damning one another in their Drink as well as the Rich; and with them it continues and encreases every Day.
'An Instance of this,
adds my Relater,
is evident in the Number of Ale-Houses and Publick-Houses erected in the first five Years after the Restoration, of which says he, this is the short Detail.
26690
Licences for new Alehouses, where there were none before, were granted in a very little Space.
 
4328
Wine-Licenses for Taverns.
 
6325
May-Poles set up for Dancing.
 
326297
Barrels of Ale.
Brew'd in that Space, more than was in the five foregoing Years.
287323
Barrels of Beer.
Here my Friend clos'd his Historical Account, as he call'd it, of the growth of Debauchery in
England,
and the Revolution which the Temper and Disposition of the People of
England
suffer'd in those Days; he only added these Words at the end of it; I will not, says he, answer for the Exactness of the Account above; as to the Encrease of Victualling-Houses, May-Poles, and Brewing, tho' I have great Reason to believe they are rather within Compass than beyond it; but this I think is certain, that by those means the Morals of the Nation were ruin'd: Let me only add a few of my Remarks to this Discourse; Experience shews that it appears much easier to conquer and give a Check to this Vice thus broken in among the Gentlemen, than it is to check it among the common People.
At the late
Revolution,
upon the coming of the Prince of
Orange,
that scandalous Custom of imposing upon People, and obliging People to drink whether they would or no, receiv'd a Check; with their lost Liberties, the Nation recover'd the Liberty of Drinking,
that is to say,
of Drinking as they pleas'd; and on a sudden, from a Mode or Fashion of putting the Cup to your Neighbour's Nose, it became the Mode to give every Man leave to Drink as he pleas'd, according to the old Rule at
Ahasuerus's Feast;
and this was a great Point gain'd too.
But alas! it was too late; the Distemper was too far gone; if the Gentlemen would not make the Servants Drunk, the Servants would make one another so; the Tennants now began to drink as fast as the Landlords; the Husbandman as fast as the Employer, and as every Man in Drinking among the Gentry, had the Liberty to Drink as little as he would, so every Man among the common People claim'd the Liberty of Drinking, as much as he would; at the same time knowing not how to set Bounds to their Drinking-Gust.
Wonder not that I call the
Drunken Vice
the worst of all
Brutallity;
it appears by its Consequences in this Nation, to be the
Mother Sin,
the Parent or producing Cause of all Vice; the Sins of Whoreing, Gameing, Thieving, Murther, Rapin, Couzening, and Cheating, and particularly that of Swearing, have been its natural Progeny, and have all enter'd at this one Door; Drunkenness has been the great Ancestor of them all.
That
Swearing, Whoreing,
and
Murther,
are the natural Consequences of Drunkenness you will grant me, I believe, at first Word; neither is there any need to debate the Point here, Experience proves it; but suffer me, I beseech you, to look a little into it.
I. The Custom of Prophane
Swearing
is so encreas'd among the poor People,
Servants, Labourers, &c.
that it is troublesome to sober People to go along the Street; they hear the Mouths of the common Labouring Poor so continually over-flowing with gall: I remember, being in the
Northern
Parts of
England,
beyond
Newcastle
upon
Tyne,
I met an
English
Gentleman, who was just that very Day come out of
Scotland,
and it was so greivous to him, that he cou'd not forbear complaning of it to me; his Expression was this,
'If I was,
says he,
to be brought out of
Scotland
into
England
blindfold, I would tell at the first Town I set my Foot in, on this side the Border, that I was on
English
Ground, by hearing the Name of God prophaned by the very Young Children in the Street; the grown People swearing and cursing in all their ordinary Discourse; whereas for the Honour of
Scotland, says he,
I must speak it, you hear nothing, or but very little of it there.
Every-body knows, that this horrid Custom is the ordinary Companion of Drunkenness: Swearing and Cursing are the Brats of the Bottle, that way, and that way only they came in; and tho' the Gentlemen have a little abated the dreadful Excess; as if, their Footmen and Servants having learnt to out-swear them, it was become a little too Vulgar for them; yet, this I may venture to say now, that the Footmen and Servants will not so easily follow their Master's Example in abating it, as they did follow their Example in learning it.
Besides, (as if the Devil having got hold of the Nation in this manner, was resolv'd not to part with them) If the Gentlemen have left it off, the Ladies have taken it up; and a certain Dutchess is said to be famous for this,
namely,
that she will out swear any of her
Footmen
or
Chairmen.
2.
Murther;
in this I may appeal to the Experience of those that liv'd towards the beginning of the last Century, that there was nothing known or heard-of like what we see now: I mean Men fighting, wounding, and killing one another in the Streets and in Taverns, and coming out of Taverns, and where one Accident of this kind happen'd then, it may safely be said, that five hundred such have happen'd since.
How often do we see Men come raving out of the Taverns, as void of Sence as a Man out of
Bedlam,
and swear they'll kill the next Man they meet? and how many Gentlemen of good Families and Fortunes have I
seen since I have been in
England,
sent by the Law on that account, to make a trip to St. Tyburn, (the Greve of this City,
as the Greve at
Paris
is the
Tyburn
of that City,) that is to say, hang'd for drunken Murthers? besides the Numbers who by Favour and Intrest have obtain'd the Prince's Pardons and Reprieves.
Again, how many
self-murthers
of this kind too have we daily in our weekly and yearly Bills of Mortallity, thus; kill'd himself by excessive Drinking; the yearly Bills give us an Account of no less than one hundred and six and twenty in the last five Years, besides such as perish by that Enemy, who are spar'd in the said Bills, because they shou'd not be known; which are, perhaps, twenty times that Number.
'Tis another Evidence of the truth of my Observation on this Head, that the Government have found themselves oblig'd, to make so many new Laws for the more effectual preventing Drunkenness and Debauchery; (1.) Obliging Victuallers and Vintners not to keep unseasonable Hours; not to draw Drink of a Sabbath-Day,
&c.
Crimes scarce heard of in former Days, and which there was no Occasion to provide against before. (2.) To oblige every Man that is fuddled, or as we call it, in drink, to pay five Shillings to the Poor, or to be set an Hour in the Stocks, and the like.
Indeed it has been some Obstruction to the Execution of these Laws, that the Magistrates are so often overtaken themselves, that they cannot find in their Hearts to punish others for what they themselves deserve Punishment for, more than most poor Men can do.
As to the Vice of Whoring, and the near relation that has, to this of Drunkenness, I need take up none of your time upon that Subject, only to remark, what an infinite Number of Debauches of this kind happen every Day among us, more than ever were before.
It occurs to me here to tell you a short Story upon this Head, of a certain Colonel of the Army, a particular Accquaintance of mine, who had an Intriegue with a young Lady, and cou'd by no means compass his Design, her Virtue proving stanch against all his Attacks; only that she had so much respect for him, that she would have consented to Marry him, but that did not suit, it seems, with his Convenience, or at least, with his Design.
However, he found means one time to get this Lady into his Company, and to get a little Wine into her Head more than she cou'd manage; and when her Head was light, her Heels prov'd so to, and he had his Will of her; when she came to herself, and was made sensible of her Wickedness, finding herself in-bed with him, that there was no room left for Regret, she put it off, with a Jest, and said, well, since she had let him come when she was drunk, he might e'en as well come when she was sober, for it was all one now.
After this, she sollicited him with all her Skill, to marry her, as he had offer'd to do before, but soon found she could not Master him that way; but at length, she resolv'd to try if she cou'd not take him at the same Advantage that he had taken her at before; she laid many Snares of this kind for him, but was always disappointed; after some time, finding him one Evening come into her Chamber half drunk, she took the hint, and got him to accept of a Bottle from her, as she call'd it, and she sat and drank the Bottle out with him, and then another or two; till being very drunk, he wanted to come to Bed to her, but she pretended to refuse him, because he would not marry her; he answer'd, he would marry her, and call'd for a Parson, tho not knowing well what he said, or did; she, who had got a Minister ready for the Purpose, having expected what happen'd, takes him at his Word, brings in the Parson, and made him repeat the Words of Matrimony, and had good Witnesses of it, and then she went to Bed with him.
In the Morning going to rise, he call'd her by Name; no, no, Colonel —,
says she,
not Mrs.
Mary —
now, but
Mary —,
Colonel —'s Wife; what mean you by that, said he? even just so, Sir,
says she,
(and told him the whole Fact) as you serv'd me, before, I hope you can't be angry;
well,
says the Colonel,
if I have don't when I was drunk, I must stand to it when I am sober; but you have bit me in my own Play,
my Dear, says he,
and made my Lord
Rochester's
Verses good upon me.
"A Woman's ne'er so ruin'd, but she can,
"Revenge herself on her
Undoer,
Man.
If I was to give you the Detail of the Adventures I have met with of this kind, I might Entertain you with Letters for a great while on no other Subject; it is true, in the Story above, the Man was the Agressor, and deserv'd it; and the Woman was not intentionally
a Whore;
but on the other hand, how many young Gentlemen, Heirs to good Families and Estates, have been drawn in by the meer Engine of the Bottle, to debauch themselves with scandalous and even distemper'd Whores? to the ruin of Body, Soul, and Fortune; and how many,
which is still worse,
have wheedled them in to marry them, when they have done: If I should say that this Consequence of Drunkenness is more frequent in this Nation, than ever I cou'd observe it to be in
France,
or even in
Germany
itself, I believe I should say Truth.
But still this is among the Gentry, and does not reach down to the lower Rank of People, of whom I am principally to speak; but is not the Consequence of Excess in Drink visible in all the lower Sorts of Men, as well as the other? how are the very Morals and Honesty of the labouring People so ruin'd? that now, as I noted in my last, you cannot with safety hire a Workman by the Day, to almost any kind of Business, unless your Eye be upon him, not only part, but even all the time of his Work; if you do, you are sure to have your Work either spoil'd or neglected, or done contrary to your Order.
The labouring People have their Eyes now not at your Work, but at their own Wages, and if they can but secure the last, their Business is to cheat you in the first as much as possible; but especially,
as to Time,
formerly honest Men were to be found, who whether you were with them, or from them, would be fairly at their Business, and made Conscience of doing their Day's Work for their Day's Wages.
But now the Case is quite alter'd; I shall give you an Example of this, before I come to speak more particularly to it: I have for some Years been concern'd in a large publick Building in the Country, where we kept a great many other Servants, as also Horses, and Carts, constantly employ'd; among the rest we kept an old Servant whose Name was
Wright,
in constant Work, tho' paid by the Week; he was a Wheel-wright by Trade, and a Carpenter also, and his Business was to keep the Carts, and Barrows, and Working-Tools and Work-houses in repair,
and the like;
it happen'd one Morning that a Cart being Broken-down upon the Road, at some distance from the House, this old Man was fetch'd to repair it where it lay; while he was busy at his Work, comes by a Countryman that knew him, and at some Distance salutes him with the usual Compliment,
good-Morrow
Father
Wright, God speed your Labour;
the old Fellow looks up at him, for he did not see him at first, and with a kind of pleasant surlyness, answer'd,
I don't care whether he does or no, 'tis Day-Work.
I need make no Comment upon this worthy Speech, it explains itself; I shall have occasion to mention
old Father Wright
again in a more particular Affair of this kind; but I am now more properly speaking of the Effect of Drunkenness, upon the Morals of the labouring Poor; and that leads me to observe how they are not only become careless and Negligent of their Business, when employ'd by others, but entirely negligent of themselves, and of their Families, notwithstanding they are able by their ordinary Labour, to support them very comfortably; I had in the same Building-Works which I mention'd above, a Workman who during the whole Summer-season for the Work, which is about seven or eight Months, as Weather happens, cou'd ordinarily earn Eighteen Shillings a Week, sometimes 20, to 22
s. per
Week; this Fellow work'd very hard too indeed, and yet he would hardly save Cloaths to cover his Nakedness, and his Wife and four Children were kept by the Parish.
But even this does not fully reach the Case I am upon; it would take up more Letters than I should be able to write you for seven Year, if I should give you a particular of the dismal Effects of Drunkenness, upon the People of this sober Nation; I call them so, because so they were but a few Years before, and even since, some that are now alive can remember.
But I must shorten the Discourse now, my present Design being chiefly of another kind,
viz.
to let you see what the general Behaviour of Workmen, and hir'd Labourers of both Sexes is; how they manage themselves, or to speak more properly, how they manage their Masters; for things are come to that pass now, that tho' Masters have the Name of Government indeed, the Servants really govern throughout this Nation, and especially that Part of them who we hire for daily Labour, who if but one crooked Word be spoken to them, will turn their Backs upon you, and upon your Business, and be gone, in spight of Contracts and Bargains, and in spight of any Damages you may suffer by it, as I shall shew you more particularly in my next; also of all the other kinds of Servants among us, for they are the same in their Degree; such as
Coachmen, Footmen, Cooks, Maid-Servants, and Men-Servants, Apprentices,
and the like, how they behave; how their Conduct is alter'd of late; how terrible a Greivance their Insolence is in the Families where they are; what Masters frequently suffer by their Negligence and Abuses; and how hard it is to find Methods for the Regulation of this Evil; it is, I confess, very difficult, but I shall venture at it a little, and if possible, by searching into the bottom of these things we may find out some Remedy, that the Nation may be deliver'd from one of the heaviest Burthens that ever loaded it, and the most difficult to deal with.
I shall conclude with observing to you, that I am very just in laying the Weight of all this upon that Flood of Wine and Strong-Drink, which this Nation seems to be drown'd in for so many Years past, because 'tis evident that Drinking is still the ordinary Introduction of all the particular Disorders which these People commit: 'Tis ordinary to say, such an one is a very civil Fellow, and a very good Workman, or such a one is a very good Servant,
but he will he Drunk now and then, and when he is so, he is mad, and does not care what he does;
and the general Excuse for a saucy insolent Servant, is,
why he was in drink, and did not know what he said, you must excuse it, he will be very sorry for it, and beg your Pardon for it when he is sober;
now it may be, all this shall be very true, and the Fellow shall come the very next Day and beg Pardon,
as was said of him,
and shall the very next time he gets a little more Drink in his Head be the same Man again, and as saucy and Insolent as before, and beg Pardon again, and be drunk again, and so on in a kind of rotation to the end of the Chapter.
It is remarkable also, that when such a Fellow comes to beg Pardon, he shall have the Impudence to say to you, that he was in drink, and that therefore he hopes you will pass it by; whereas his being Drunk is not an aggravation only, but an Addition of Crime, and so far from a Reason why he should be Pardon'd, that 'tis the best Reason that can be given why he shou'd not.
Another Case is, that this Drunkenness is certainly the Parent of Oaths, and as our common People are addicted to Swearing in such an execrable manner, as that no Nation in the World is like them; so it is most commonly when they are in drink: At least, Drunkenness has been the grand Introduction to it, nay, many that will never Swear when they are sober, will Swear in the most outrageous manner when they are in drink, and be guilty of the most gross and abominable Actions in their Liquor; things which they themselves would abhor when they were themselves.
There is an unhappy kind of Swearing, which Custom has brought upon this Nation, which is not the Effect of Drunkenness, of which I shall give you the Trouble of a Letter by iself; and this is the Multiplication of Oaths appointed by Authority, of which this Kingdom has more than ever I met with in any Nation whatever; but of that hereafter.
This way of Swearing, was in its beginning a high Compliment upon the general Integrity, and gave a great Character of the Principles of the People; arguing that they were so conscientiously regardful of their Oaths, that what they once swore, it might be depended on they would carefully and religiously observe.
But time, and the frequency of taking these Oaths, has made kissing the Gospels so familiar with them, that such Oaths have lost much of their Solemnity, and are consequently brought to be of less Importance, and to have less Influence on the Minds of those who take them, than it was at first believ'd they would have, and then indeed, they ought to have.
If Drunkenness and in consequence of it, this vile habit of Swearing have thus possess'd the generality of the poor People here, as I have observ'd; what then can we expect from them as to their Morals, or Manners? you are not indeed, to expect much from their Morals, but far less from their Manners.
What decency of Expression, what Modesty in Behaviour can that Man show when he is gorg'd with Drink? when his Head runs round like the Sails of a Wind Mill? as the Vapour blows when he knows nothing what he does, or what he is to do? when he can neither think or act?
They have a very good old Song here on the Subject of Drinking, which has in it one Couple of Lines, that is much to my Purpose,
viz.
"And the Man that is Drunk
"Is as great as a King.
It is literally true here; an
Englishman,
when Drink is in his Head, is a King, an Emperor, Monarch of himself, and knows no-body, and values no-body; if he be the meanest of your Servants, is your Master for that time; he knows nothing about you, or about your Business; but will roar and sing, even in your Face, and tell you, he is above all Masters, and values no-body.
To talk to him while he is in that Condiction, is to talk Gospel to a
Kettle Drum;
you get nothing but saucy Language, or something worse; the best way is to get some of the other Servants to have him to-bed, and when he has slept, and is a little sober, he will be pretty well again; but then you have this trouble upon your Hands again,
viz.
That if you do not set some honest, staid, sober Fellow, to take care of him
the next Morning,
if he gets but one Mug of Beer in his Hand,
he is gone;
his Head is not thorowly cool, and he is a Madman or a Sober Man for another Day, just as the Company he falls into, first happens, to be loose drinking Fellows, or sober and grave, and sometimes he goes on for the whole Week. As this is the Case with them in their Drink, it begins to be a kind of a necessary Custom, tho' it be owing chiefly to the Custom of drinking; namely, that no Notice is to be taken, no not by the Master himself, of what a Servant either says or does, when he is in Drink.
I shall lead you into these Particulars more to your Satisfaction, by giving you some short Histories of Cases, which come up to the Perfection of these things, and which, I hope, will be both diverting and instructing; mean time, I conclude for the present, and am,
Dear Sir.
Your most humble Servant and affectionate Brother.
LETTER IV.
Dear Sir.
I AM now to lay down some things for your farther Admiration in the particular Behaviour of the
English
Poor, and give me leave, previous to what I have farther to say upon this Head, to add that, 1. This is all,
in spight of double Pay,
at the same Time that their Services are
least,
and their Behaviour
worst,
their Wages are
best,
their pay
largest,
and they have the greatest Obligation laid upon them to be diligent.
This, one would think, should either prevent their Ill-Behaviour, or be a means to reclaim them, when they had broken in upon their Manners; but on the contrary, it is a general Observation at least in the Compass of my particular Knowlege, and I scarce ever knew it fail,
namely,
that I never knew a Servant, or a Workman in
England,
one farthing the better for the Encrease of his Wages; on the contrary, if you advance a Servant's Wages, it is so natural for him to think he deserves it, or that else you would not do it; that instead of mending him, it always makes him worse.
It is a kind of a Proverbial Speech among our People, when they see a dull, heavy Fellow go slowly on in his Business, to say to him, come
mend your Pace,
and I'll
mend your Pay;
but really the Man's return ought to be, do you but mend my Pay first,
and you shall hang me, if I mend my Pace.
2. Servants and Workmen in
England,
seem to act in the Case of their Master's Bounty, as an old cunning
Cart-Horse
does with the Driver, and his Whip; when the Driver smacks his Whip, the Cart-Horse shakes his Bells; the Driver makes the Horse believe he will strike, and the Cart-Horse makes the Driver believe he'll go; but the Carter does not lash, nor does the Horse mend his Pull; so that the Horse cheats the Driver for his Favour, in which, (by the way,) he lets us see that Gratitude is not a natural Principle among Horses.
The Behaviour of the labouring Poor in
England,
is something a-kin to this; and we find that Gratitude is not a natural Principle among the common People; at least, if it is, they are pleas'd to Sin against it in a most unnatural Manner; in a word, their Morals being touch'd as before, that Part of their Virtue, which I call Gratitude, and which is the brightest Part of an honest Man, is in a manner quite sunk among them: But I shall have Occasion to compliment them upon their Gratitude hereafter.
I return now to the most fatal Cause of all this Mischief; I mean the Advance of Wages, for this indeed, is the support of all the Insolence of Servants, as their ruin'd Manners is the Spring of it: Here indeed, they verifie what was by a late Author made part of their Character.
"The Lab'ring Poor, in spight of double Pay,
"Are saucy, mutinous, and Beggarly.
But to return to the Wages, and here I am to observe,
1. That tho' advancing the Wages of Servants has not been a publick thing done by the Government or Legislature, in the, Nature of a Law.
2. Nor has it been done by a common consent, as some publick things have been done; obtaining thereby the ordinary Sanction of a Law.
3. Nor has it after such a kind of Common Consent been approv'd or confirm'd by any Authority, as a thing which ought to be; no nor lastly,
4. Has it been so much as encourag'd by the Magistrates or Government; on the contrary, it is the common receiv'd Opinion, that it ought not to be so; and that it spoils Servants in the main, and yet guided by we know not what Fate, every-body comes into it; the Servants encroach, and demand high Wages, and the People generally comply with it, and so the Evil is grown insensibly upon us, till it is become a receiv'd Custom, and is what it may be said, ever body does, and therefore every Servant looks for; and whereas in common Charity one would expect that this should influence the generality of Servants for the better, and help to reclaim them, on the contrary, it is indeed,
the Ruin of them all.
Nor is this Advance of Servants Wages any Wealth to them, but as above, their Morals being destroy'd, this overplus is generally laid out, either in Luxury or Vanity, that is to say, in
Strong-Drink
by the Men-Servants, and in
gay things
by the Women-Servants; and take all that little Frugallity which is to be found among them, and set it against the horrible encrease of Pride and Debauchery, that is,
Drink,
(for I must be allow'd to call Drunkenness Debauchery) I say take all that little Frugallity that is left, I believe it will be granted,
1. That the Poor are poorer than when Labour was cheaper.
2. Servants lay up less,
take them one with another,
than they did when they were hir'd at half the Wages.
So that upon the whole, neither the Labourer without-Doors, or the menial Servant within-Doors, are one jott the better in their Behaviour, or the richer in their Pockets for all the advance of Pay which they receive, which yet in the whole Kingdom, amounts to an immense Sum by the Year.
To begin with the labouring Poor, they are indeed the Grievance of the Nation, and there seems an absolute Necessity to bring them, by severe regulations, to some State of immediate Subordination; their Case is briefly summ'd up in two Heads.
1. Under
a stop of Trade,
and a general want of Work, then they are clamorous and mutinous, run from their Families, load the Parishes with their Wives and Children, who they leave perishing and starving, and themselves grow ripe for all manner of Mischief, whether publick Insurrection, or private plunder and robbery, and seeing they have not Work enough, they will not work at all, and that brings them to wander, starve, beg, steal, and be Hang'd.
2.
In a Glut of Trade
they grow saucy, lazy idle, and debauch'd; when they may have Work, and may get Money enough to live well, and lay up for a Time of less Business; then instead of Diligence and Good-Husbandry which might be expected from honest Men, on the contrary they will Work but two or three Days in the Week, or till they get Money enough to keep them the rest of the Week, and all the other part of their Time they lie in the Alehouse to spend it.
The present Juncture of Time, while I am writing this Letter, furnishes me with flagrant Examples of this kind; there is now, and has been, for near two Year past, a prodigious Run of Trade for all sorts of the Woollen-Manufactures, of which
England
makes so much.
This Demand for Goods makes a propotion'd Encrease of Work, and an Encrease of Work, of course produces an Encrease of Wages: This the Poor in
France
wou'd rejoice at, and any People indeed, that were in their Sences would take it for a Blessing from Heaven, and it would prompt their Diligence, and make them work the harder, that they might take the honest Advantage of it, and as we say,
make Hay while the Sun shines.
That the Encrease of Trade and Wages is real, and the Fact true, you may take it thus in a few Words,
viz.
The rate for spinning, weaving, and all other Manufacturing-Work, I mean in
WOOL,
is so risen, that the Poor all over
England,
can now earn or gain near twice as much in a Day, and in some Places, more than twice as much as they could get for the same Work two or three Years ago: Particularly in
Essex, Suffolk,
and
Norfolk, Eastward;
and in
Wiltshire, Somerset,
and
Devon, West;
the Poor Women now get 12
d
to 15
d
a Day for spinning, the Men more in proportion, and are full of Work; whereas before, they cou'd not get half so much, and very often not find Employment neither.
And what now is the Consequence of this? not Diligence, not Thankfulness,
I assure you;
less is it enriching the Poor, or furnishing themselves with Conveniences, Cloaths, and Necessaries;
least of all
is it attended with a provident laying-up for a time of Scarcity; when Work may be wanting and Wages abate again; as 'tis very likely may be the Case hereafter:
No, No,
just the contrary; This Prosperity introduces Sloth, Idleness, Drunkenness, and all manner of Wickedness; instead of
making Hay while the Sun shines,
they slight their Work, and bully their Employers; perhaps they will work two or three Days, or it may be a Week, till they find a few Shillings gingle and chink in their Pockets; but then, as if they cou'd not bear that kind of Musick, away they go to the Alehouse, and 'tis imposible to bring them to work again, while they have a Farthing of it left.
The Manufacturers are distress'd for Hands; they have Workmen, but they had as good have none, for they will not Work; the Masters beg and intreat, and with Money in Hand, as we say, they Pray and Pay too, but 'tis all one, no Work can be done as long as there's a Farthing of Money in their Pockets.
If we go out of the Manufacturing Towns into the Country-Villages, there they feel the same thing another way; the Farmers Wives can get no Dairy-Maids, their Husbands no Plowmen, and what's the matter? truly the Wenches answer, they won't go to Service at 12
d
or 18
d
a Week, while they can get 7
s
to 8
s
a Week at spinning; the Men answer they won't drudge at the Plow and Cart, hedging and ditching, threshing and stubbing, and perhaps get 6
l.
a Year, and course Diet, when they can sit still and dry within Doors, and get 9 or 10
s.
a Week at Wool-combing, or at carding, and such Work about the Woollen Manufacture.
Now, it is true, the Argument on their side would be very just, and some way unanswerable, were the end really to work, and so to get as much as they could by a Diligent Application to the Business, and then by a frugal, honest virtuous Life, laying up what they got, for their Use in harder times.
But instead of this, we find these Wenches and Fellows run to the Manufacturing-Towns; there perhaps, they Spin and Work, and when they have got a little Money in their Pockets before-hand, then they turn Vagrant and Idle, spend the little they have got in revelling, drinking, and by consequence something worse, till the Magistrates have been call'd upon to rout them out, to secure the Parishes from the charge of their Debaucheries.
From these wicked Haunts, they spread themselves about the Villages, where they draw in other young People, (till then sober and diligent,) into the like Wickedness; till we have seen six or seven of them in a House with big-Bellies, to the Shame and Affliction of their poor Parents, and the Scandal of the whole Country.
As soon as they can drop their Burthen, they fly, for fear of the House of Correction, and away they go to
London
to get Services.
London,
like the Ocean, that receives the muddy and dirty Brooks, as well as the clear and rapid Rivers, swallows up all the scum and filth of the Country, and here they need not fear of getting Places; what Servants are likely to come out of such Nurseries is not hard to suggest, nor is it any breach of Charity, to suppose that this helps to fill the Town with a generation of Whores and Thieves, and makes our Maid-Servants recommend themselves as they do: Hence nothing is more Natural than the common Jest we put upon the Country-Girls, when we see them come up to
London
in the Carriers Waggons, and on the Pack-Horses,
viz.
to ask them
if they have been Church'd before they came from home;
nor is there any thing unreasonable in the Question, as things go now in the Country, when Work is so plenty and Wages so high; for who wou'd come away to
London
to go to Service, if things were all well at home?
This is one of the Grievances which we want a Law to restrain, and which if not taken in Time, and restrain'd, will quickly make Servants Wages as dear in the Country as they are now in the City; and the poor Farmers must give 6
l.
and 8
l.
a Year Wages for Dairy-Maid as the Ladies here do for their Chamber-Maids, and a proportion for Plow-Men, and Carters; of which I shall say more hereafter.
It is true we have Laws here for regulating of Servants, and among the rest, a Justice of Peace may oblige young People who are idle, and live, as 'tis call'd, at their own Hands, to go to Service, and may, if they refuse it, send them to the House of Correction; but this is a Concern which the Law takes for Parents, whose Circumstances being but mean, and their Children lying heavy upon them, are willing to be maintain'd in Idleness and Sloth, and refuse either to Work for themselves, or go out to Service; in such a Case, the Magistrate may oblige them to go out, as above.
But if the single Person so challeng'd by the Justice, answers that she work'd and maintains herself, and is able to maintain herself without being a Charge to her Parents, or the Parish, I do not find the Magistrate can compel such a one to go to Service.
In the next Place, as this Insolence of
the labouring Poor
is, in spight of
double Pay,
so it is with this particular Aggravation, that at the same Time that their Wages has been rais'd, the Price of Provisions has been cheaper than it has been for many Years before; particularly Bread-Corn has been so low that none can complain, except the poor Farmers, who cannot pay their Rents, by reason of the Cheapness of Corn; and I am Witness to this, that when Bread, about 16 or 17 Years ago, was sold for double the Price that it is now, the Wages for spinning and Manufacturing, was not much above half the Price that it is now, so that they gain'd less, and spent more, and yet were able to subsist, even then.
This makes good the ordinary Remark here,
viz.
that the poor are always poor; it is very plain, when Wages were cheap, or low, and Provisions high and dear, the Poor were not poorer than they are now;
and now
Wages are higher, and Provisions so much lower than it was then, yet the Poor are not richer now than they were then; but this Riddle is easily expounded, by saying, 1. The Poor are, (as above,) idle, proud, and saucy, and when Wages are good, they won't work,
any more than from Hand to Mouth;
or if they do work, they spend it in Riot and Luxury; so that it Turns to no Account to them.
While this, then, is the Temper of the
labouring Poor,
what are we to expect from them, but that, as above, they will be mutinous when they want Employment, and idle and saucy when they have it? Would the poor Maid-Servants who choose rather to spin, while they can gain 9
s. per
Week by their Labour, than go to service at 12
d.
a Week to the Farmers Houses, as before; I say, would they sit close to their work, live near and close, as labouring and poor People ought to do, and by their Frugality, lay up six or seven Shillings
per
Week, none could object or blame them for their Choice; but while, on the contrary, they either play half their Time, and neglect the Work they have; or if they do work, spend it all in Drink and Debauchery, as is too much the Case, this height of Wages is by it made a publick grievance; the Poor are ruin'd, even by that which is their Blessing, or would be so, were it rightly made use of; I mean plenty of Work, and good Pay; nay the very plenty of Provisions which was always receiv'd by reasonable People, and especially by Christians, as the Gift and Mercy of Heaven, is curs'd to them, and becomes their Ruin; for while they have Bread, they won't work, and when they do not work, 'tis easie to judge what else they do, and how they employ their Time.
Again, as soon as Trade receives a check, and there is a little discouragement upon the Clothiers and Manufacturers, so that Work is a little stop'd, and the Masters and Employers can give no more Wool out to spin, or perhaps but a little, and that in consequence of this; the Price abates too; what follows? why, then they grow clamorous, noisy, and, as I said before, mutinous and saucy another way, and in the mean time they disperse, run away, leave their Families, and especially the numerous throng of Bastards, which, (as I hinted,) the Wickedness of their Working-Life had produc'd, upon the Parishes, and wander about in Beggary and Distress.
In consequence of this, it has been observ'd, that in our great populous Manufacturing Towns, whenever a run of Trade has happen'd, and after it the Poor disperse again, there is generally an Encrease of Bastards, greater than in any of the precedent Years, and I could give such particular Examples of this in the
Western
and
Northern
Counties, as would be surprising.
Thus Gods Blessing, and the Bounty of Providence, is abused by these sorts of People not to encrease and encourage their Diligence, their frugality, and thriftiness, to lay up in a time of plenty of Work, for a time of scarcity and deadness of Trade; but on the contrary, to support them in their extravagant Follies and Wickedness, prompt their Vices, and fill them with Pride and Insolence, both against God and Man.
And so far are they from improving the Advantages of a Glut of Business, that as soon as it stops, even the very first Week, perhaps the first Day, they are reduced to their Original Poverty and Distress; for having not laid up a Shilling, but just working from Hand to Mouth; as soon as the Workmaster stops, the Workman or Workwoman starves, and it must be confess'd such as these deserve no Pity, seeing their wastefulness, and the Expence both of their Money and their Time, was in the very Teeth of that merciful Providence, which suppyl'd them with double Work, and double Pay, and that they had reduc'd themselves by their Sloth to want when they might have been,
as we call it,
before-hand in the World.
In a certain Town of Note, which I have been well acquainted with, a poor Workman was brought before the Magistrate by his Employer, because he would not finish his Piece of Work which he had begun, it was a Piece of Serge, or Drugget, or some such Stuff which the Master had hir'd him to weave, and he had begun it, but would not make an end of it,
or at least, not in the time agreed for,
and it produced a most edifying Discourse between the Justice and the Weaver; of which I shall give you a Part.
The Clothier told his Story first, and his complaint was as follows; that
Edmund Pratt,
the Person brought before him, was a Journeyman Weaver; that he had given him a Piece of Work to do, which he promis'd to finish for him out of hand, and that now he had neglected it; that he had done part of it, but did not finish it; that he had oblig'd himself to deliver it by such a Day, and should lose the Sale of it, if it was not finish'd and sent to
London
in the time; that he had deliver'd him the Warp such a time, which was about 3 Weeks before; that he might have finish'd it in a Fortnight if he would work; but that he had not above half done it, and that he lay Drunk and sotting in the Alehouse, and would not work; that he promis'd him from time to time to go to Work, and still whenever he came to look at him, he was absent, and gone to the Alehouse; that at last, when he entreated him to go to work, he answer'd him
flat
and
plain,
he would not work; that he did not want Money, and would not work, not he; and for this Reason he came to his Worship for a Warrant to bring
Edmund
before him.
The Justice answer'd him very sencibly;
first,
that as he (
Edmund
) was not an Apprentice, or a hir'd Covenant-Servant, bargain'd with for the Year,
that is,
for a certain time
and the like;
the Case did not lie before him; and that if the Fellow was a Knave, and would not perform his Agreement, he must sue him for his Bargain, and would recover Damages against him at Law; but that it was not the work of a Justice of the Peace, and that he cou'd not make the Fellow work unless he would do it willingly: However, says the Justice, I'll send for him, and talk to him, I cannot well grant a Warrant for him on such an Occasion, but
pray go and tell him I would speak with him.
This I mention, because I think, if the Laws of
England
are deficient in any thing, it is in this, namely, that they do not empower the Justices to compel labouring People who undertake work, to finish it before they be Employ'd by any other; it is true, the Law of Trespass, and of Right and Wrong, gives the injur'd Employer a Right of Action against such a Man, and he shall upon hearing, be condemn'd in such a Sum as will compensate the Damage to the Person injur'd, and perhaps, do Pennance in the County Jail at last; but then
the Suit is long, chargeable,
and
uncertain,
and the Fellow perhaps poor, so that you sue a Beggar, and
catch an English Proverb;
whereas cou'd the Justice of the Peace determine it in a summary way, and oblige him to give Bail to perform the Work, or send him to the House of Correction till he was humble enough to go about it, I say, if this was the Case, much of the Mischief would be remedied that way.
But this Deficiency of the Law, it seems the Fellow knew, and this made him not only saucy and peremptory to his Employer, but very pert, and almost impudent before the Justice himself, as you will see.
As soon as he was told the Justice would speak with him, he answer'd readily, he wou'd wait upon the Justice immediately, and accordingly went; when he appear'd, the Justice told him the Complaint which was made against him; when he had done, the Fellow looking something Confident, but giving no Answer, the Justice spoke to him thus:
You hear the Charge,
Edmund,
what do you say to it?
Nothing,
Sir, says
Edmund;
and so the Dialogue begun.
Nothing! what do you mean by that, Sir?
And 't please your Worship, I see no Answer it requires.
What! does it require no Answer?
No, I think not, he has told your Worship a fine Story, and your Worship has heard it; what would he have more?
It is plain what he would have; he would have his Work done.
I believe he would, and't please your Worship.
And you promis'd to finish it.
And has he told your Worship so?
Yes he has.
Then I suppose he has said all he has to say.
Well, and what do you say to it then?
Nothing Sir,
Why I find you are an impudent Fellow.
Nay, and't please your Worship, can I be impudent in saying
nothing?
Yes you are impudent in not answering me, when I ask you a Question.
I have answer'd every Question your Worship has ask'd me.
I tell you what Mr. — charges you with, and I ask you if it is true or not?
Now indeed your Worship asks me that Question, but you only ask'd me before, what I had to say to Mr. — or to his Charge; and I answer'd,
that I had nothing to say to it.
Well, you pretend to be nice in your Distinctions I see; but what do you say to my Question now,
Is the Charge he brings, true or not?
I hope your Worship will not be angry, if I answer the Question by a Question;
am I oblig'd to accuse myself?
Why no, you are not,
Edmund,
that is true,
I shall call him to prove it then.
Will your Worship allow me to ask another Question?
Ay, what is your Question?
Won't your Worship be angry, if I do ask a Question you should not like?
No, no, I won't be angry, if you are not rude and saucy,
Edmund,
I shall not like that.
I shan't be rude, Sir, but my Question is this, if your Worship calls Mr. — to prove the Tale he has told you, and he shou'd prove it, are you empowr'd to try the Cause between us?
Why thou art a subtle Rogue,
Edmund;
I'll be very plain with thee, I don't know whether I am or no, but it's pity I should not, for I think you deserve to be well handled, if what he says is true.
If I deserve it never so much, I shall have no reason to be sorry, if it may be out of your Worship's Power to handle me.
Well, it may be in my Power too, for ought I know; I shall talk with Mr. — again, and you shall hear farther; pray attend here again to morrow Morning.
Yes Sir, so the Follow was dismiss'd, and the Justice sent for the Clothier.
The Clothier being come, says the Justice to him, well Mr. —
I have talk'd with your Workman,
and as I told you before, that I thought the Matter did not lye before me,
so I assure you, he has told me so too, in as merry a Manner as I could desire,
and so he recited the Discourse that had happen'd between his Worship and the Journey-Man Weaver.
He's an impudent Fellow, says the Clothier, I am sure; he ought to be sent to the House of Correction, for his saucy Tongue.
Why, that is true, says the Justice; but yet he spoke so warily, and with a kind of saucy Good-Manners, with
your Worship,
and
your Worship
at every word; that tho' it was manifest he ridicul'd the Charge, and ridicul'd you, yet he was mighty civil to me; and as he said indeed, I could not lay him by the Heels for answering me that he had
nothing to say to you.
Now the Case is this, says the Justice, 'tis evidient he has had some bad Counsel, and somebody has instructed him what to say; he demands you shou'd prove the Charge you bring, and so indeed, you must, that is, you must prove that he undertook your Work; bargain'd to finish it by such a Time; and that he has neglected it; and that you are Damnified by his Neglect.
All this I can easily prove, Sir, says the Clothier.
Well, but when you have done all, says the Justice,
as Edmund said,
I do not see that I can Try the Cause; it must be heard in the Court of the King's Bench, or Common Pleas, and the Verdict and Damages must be given by a Jury; 'tis a Breach of Covenant, or Trespass, and you must prosecute it in the ordinary Course;
so the poor Clothier went away,
it was not worth his while to sue the Fellow, and be at the Charge of a Prosecution, which, tho' the Fellow was sure to be Cast, and condemn'd to pay the Cost and Damages, the Consequence would be only that he would run away, or go to Jayl; neither of which would turn to Account to the Clothier.
Well, however, the Justice had a-mind to have another Dialogue with this
Edmund,
and see whether he could make any thing of him or no; so he sent for him again the same Day, and when he came, the following merry Dialogue began between them.
Come in
Edmund,
I have talk'd with your Master —.
Not
my Master,
and 't please your Worship, I hope I am
my own Master.
Well, your Employer, Mr. E—, the Clothier; will the word Employer do?
Yes, yes, and 't please your Worship, any thing, but
Master.
Well, but why will you not finish the Piece of Work you began?
Does he say, I won't finish it Sir?
He says you don't finish it.
There's much Difference, and 't please you, between don't and won't.
There's no great Difference on his side, the Damage is the same, for he wants the Goods, and that is a great loss to him.
But there's a great deal of difference to me Sir; if I had refus'd to finish it, perhaps he might have had some Advantage on me.
All that you can say to that is, perhaps, that you have been too cunning for him, that he did not tye you to a Time, and take it under your Hand, that you would finish it by that Time; but
Edmund,
you must not neglect the Man's Work when you have undertaken it.
It may be I should not; but as for must not, and 't please your Worship I don't understand that.
Why you must not, that is, you cannot, and be an honest Man.
Why then if I do, he may call me Knave, that's all.
And it seems you do not matter that,
Edmund?
Not much, indeed, and 't please your Worship.
Nay, I confess he that don't matter being a Knave, may do a great many wicked things, and yet not be liable to every Magistrate to take hold of him.
Your Worship is pleas'd to mistake me, I did not say I did not matter being a Knave; but that I did not matter his calling me so; I have done no dishonest thing by him.
Why is it not dishonest, not to finish his Work according to Agreement?
Yes, if any Agreement had been made.
No doubt he put it to you, expecting you would finish it in time.
That he cou'd not do, because he knew my way of Working before.
Pray what is that,
Edmund,
and what did he know?
Why he knew, that I never finish any peice of Work, till I please.
And does he know when that is too,
Edmund?
pray when do you usually please to finish the Work you undertake?
Why, and 't please your Worship, when I have finish'd ten — Yards, I come for my Money, which is ten Shillings, as by Agreement, and then I go to another Work.
What Work? what do you leave his Loom, and go and work in another,
Edmund?
that would not be honest, I am sure.
No no, and 't please your Worship, I go to the Alehouse, and work hard to spend it, and when it is all spent, then I come to work again.
And not before?
No Sir, and 't please your Worship, never before.
And is this honest
Edmund?
I don't enquire into that; 'tis my way.
Your way! but what's that to Mr. E—, the Clothier?
Why, and 't please your Worship, 'tis this to him, that he knows 'tis my way; that I never did otherwise, and never shall; and he knew this before he put the Warp into the Loom, and I did not promise I would do any otherwise, so I am no Knave in it; if I had promis'd otherwise, then indeed, he had something to say.
Very well; so that as he knew your Custom, you suppose he put his Work to you upon a supposition that you would act so.
Yes, Sir.
But can't you break your self of this wicked way,
Edmund?
It would be very hard to do it, Sir, after 40 Years practice.
Thou art an old Drunkard, I find
Edmund;
have a care, If I happen to catch thee with a Giddy-Head, I shall cure thee of the Staggers.
O Sir, and 't please your Worship, you are very welcome; if you catch me in the Corn, put me in the Pound; I am never fuddl'd, and 't please your Worship.
But to sit Tippling; to keep bad Hours; go to the Alehouse a-Sundays; all those things come within my Reach,
Edmund;
have a care.
I am provided against all that, Sir; and 't please your Worship, I lodge in an Alehouse, so that I am always at Home; he can't keep bad Hours that is at-home in good Season; nor you can't deny me Drinking in my own Chamber, tho' it be on a Sunday; I hope I am safe there?
Thou art a crafty Knave,
Edmund,
why thou settest up to be too cunning for the Law it self.
No, no, and 't please your Worship, I am an honest Drunken Fellow.
Well, but
Edmund,
shall I perswade thee to go and finish Mr. E—'s piece of Stuff, and he shall give thee thy Money before-hand.
And 't please your Worship, by no means; then I shall never do it at all, I am sure; no it would be impossible, and 't please your Worship; by no means.
Why will nothing oblige you to be Honest?
Yes, yes, want of Money, that does it; when I want Money I always go to-work.
And never but then?
No, and please your Worship, I work for nothing but Money; and why should I work if I do not want Money? would anybody work if they had Money enough?
No, not if they had enough, it may be, they would not; but what do you call enough?
Why, if in the Morning I have enough to spend for that Day,
that's enough to me;
for to Morrow I can work for more.
So you lay up nothing?
Lay up, Master! what should I lay up for? I have no Wife or Children to cry after me.
Well, but hereafter,
Edmund,
you should consider hereafter; you may be sick, or lame, or grow old.
I ne'er trouble myself with hereafter, not I; alas! and please your Worship, what should I think of hereafter for? while I can keep myself, all is well; I trouble no-body, and when I can't, the Parish must.
So that the only way to get you to finish the Clothier's Work, is to get you to it next time your Money is spent, and then let you have no more Money till 'tis done.
That would do it effectually indeed; but then I may chance to run away, go to Work for somebody else, and never finish it at-all.
So that, in short, there is no way to deal with a Drunkard, but to let him alone, and let him go on his own Way: Well, I think the Clothier shall try you,
Edmund,
and if you do run away, I'll tell him how he shall fetch you again without a Justice of Peace; unless you run quite away, and then the Country will be well rid of you.
There was a great deal of farther Discourse between them, in which
Edmund
was at last so saucy, that the Justice found he was half-Drunk, and set him in the Stocks, and took care afterwards to have him punish'd too for some other Mis-Behaviour; but all the Justice, or the Clothier cou'd do, cou'd not make him finish his Piece of Work, till he pleas'd, and that was a good while after.
This Story has several useful Inferences depending upon it, which is the reason of my being so particular in a thing of so small moment.
1. As above, it discovers a Deficiency, as I said, in the Laws here, by which it is evident, the Insolence of our labouring-Poor cannot be so effectually governed, as it were to be wish'd it might be;
Edmund,
should else have been humbled, and have lain in Jail, till he had come and begg'd the Clothier to give him leave to finish the Piece of Work, without any Wages; or that the Wages should have been given to the Poor.
2. It is observable, what a perfectly thoughtless temper possesses the Minds of the People here, that they never lay up in the Time of Plenty for a Time of Scarcity.
3. That they are not to be oblig'd either by fair means, or foul, to do their Work, if but a Pot of Strong-Beer, to which they are Slaves, be in their way, according to the Character given them by one of our
English
Writers.
In Drink and drunken Company, delight,
And what they get by
Day,
they spend at
Night,
Subjecting all their Labours to their Pots,
The greatest Artists, are the greatest Sots.
I shall conclude this Letter with adding another Observation, which I draw from the Story above, and which I have by Experience found true also, of these labouring Poor; namely, so little does a Sence of Justice, or of Gratitude rest upon their Minds, that not only they are thus Insolent in spight of
Double Pay,
but in spight of prompt Pay, or as some call it Pay by Advance.
Nothing is more dangerous of its Kind, than to Pay them by Advance; and 'tis ten to one, as
Edmund
said of himself, if ever you have your Work done at all.
There is a Proverb among the working People, that there are two sorts of bad Masters.
1. Those that Pay before-hand,
2. Those that never Pay at-all.
And both, they say, make bad Servants, and never should have their Work well, finished.
It is true that this is the Result of a general Baseness in the Servant; but nothing is more certain, than that to Pay before-hand, is to ruin, your Business, and your Servant too; and that if you have your Work done at-all, it is never well done, and always with an ill-will; but of this hereafter.
I am &c.
LETTER V.
Sir,
I have given you a Sketch of the Insolence of our labouring Poor: It is but too much Influence that this matter, however triffling it may seem, has had upon the general Tranquility of this Nation and is therefore well worth Notice.
They are greatly mistaken, who think that the poor People are below our Concern, it is true, in many Cases they are below our Resentment; but 'tis apparent that the many Ways which the Poor find to make themselves uneasie to the Rich, are such, and the Advantages which they have in this Country, by the Privileges they enjoy, are also such, that they bid fair for inverting the Order of things;
in a Word,
it is already true, in a great measure, that in
England
the Poor govern, and the Rich submit; the Case is, in short, that they clamour their Masters into, and out of, every thing they please, and unless Men will be ever contending and scolding with them, he can neither Trade with them, or Employ them.
Nay, let me go farther; we are aw'd by the Poor; nothing is more frequent than to see Gentlemen, bear the vilest Treatment from the meanest Fellows, and that for
meer fear;
pardon me, I do not say they are afraid of their Hands, but really they are afraid of their Tongues; and it is not altogether without reason, as you shall hear at large, in its Place.
Nor is it easie for a Gentleman to live in any Place long, without suffering the beastly Treatment of the Tongue, from the Canaille or Mobb of the Place; no Conduct, the best, the mildest, the most prudent, can protect him.
1. If he is easie, kind, and good to them, they impose upon him, and that in the grossest Manner; and no sooner have they done it, but they expose him, laugh at him, and make their Boasts among their Gangs, how they cheated him; that he is Easie, that is to say, is a Fool, and how they can impose upon him at any time.
2. If he is sharp with them, and exact, will not be cheated, and when he sees it, resents, exposes and detects them, and turns them off; then they rail at him the other way, that he is hard and cruel, will let no-body live by him; would starve the Poor, and would have a Poor Man's Labour for nothing; and the like.
3. If he is Generous and Free, they strain that Generosity to its utmost Extent; craving till the most bountiful Hand in the World must stop at last, and deny, or be blind, and not see it self abused; and then, whenever you stop, you lose all your Character (for Generosity) at one blow: 'Tis too true of the Temper of these People, what one of my Neighbours said to me, from his dearbought Experience, that if you carry an
Englishman
19 Mile on your Back, and won't carry him 20, you lose all the Title to his Favour, and cancel all Obligation; the 19 Mile is forgot, the odd Negative Mile is only remember'd: Nay,
says he,
if you carry him all the 20 Miles, and at last do but set him down hard, he will curse you to your Face.
Upon the foot of this Temper, you may expect to hear of some of the rudest, unjust, and most impudent things put upon the Gentlemen in this Country by the common People, that you can imagine possible.
As they impose upon the Generous, so on the other-side they hate the Frugal; if some Gentlemen live more sparingly than others, and are more near and saving than these People like, so that they cannot make a Spoil of them, as they do of others; if they will not suffer themselves to be impos'd upon, or cheated, and resent it when they see it offer'd to them; these they attack with opprobrious Language, and revile them with Covetousness, and not living as they ought to do; with oppressing the Poor; being cruel and barbarous to Poor Men, and the like.
These Reproaches, especially where they are not Just, are very grievous to Gentlemen, to such especially, whose Livesare really blameless, and who ought to be Judges of their own way of living, as they best know what they can or cannot expend, or is proper for them to expend, in the Port of Families; and as these Gentlemen are loth to have such Characters among the Neighbourhood without reason, this makes them bear with a Thousand Indignities; and sometimes see themselves impos'd upon, and us'd scurvily, and yet take no Notice of it; because they would not be mark'd for Severity, or for hard Treatment of poor Men; this is what I call being afraid of the Poor; and they really are so afraid of them, that they suffer themselves to be ill-us'd a thousand Ways, when they see it plain enough, but wink, and make as if they did not see it at-all, only for fear of being counted so and so, niggardly, cruel, hard to the Poor, and the like.
I was going, a few Days ago, to visit a Friend in a Country Village not far from
London,
and being come to the Town where my Friend liv'd, but not knowing his House, I rode past it, and past two more, before I found any-body to enquire of; but at last, I saw a Cluster, or little Crowd of young Fellows standing together, and chatting upon their earnest Affairs, (I suppose) they seem'd to be all Servants, four or five of them had Liveries, on, of several sorts; the other look'd like Gardeners, and one or two like Bricklayers; when I came up to them, I ask'd them what Gentleman liv'd at that House? pointing to the first House that I had pass'd, and which was indeed, the Gentleman's House who I was to go to: When I ask'd, what Gentleman liv'd there? the Rogues grinn'd, and look'd upon one another, and laugh'd; Gentleman! says one; Gentleman! says another; but gave me no present Answer; I saw them a little merry, so I smil'd too, and speaking pleasantly, Well,
says I, if that is not as it should be,
pray who lives at that House? Why Sir, says one of them very civilly, but still laughing,
we beg your Pardon,
we did not laugh
as you,
but at your mistakeing the Person that lives there, for a Gentleman; if you please to take it in our way of talking, 'tis one Dog K—d, adding the Gentleman's Sirname;
well says I,
and pray who lives there? pointing to the next House; why that's such another too,
says the Fellow;
that's Dog E—, adding there the Sirname of another; well,
says I,
that's very good still; and who lives at that House? pointing at the third House; O,
says he,
that is a very honest Gentleman indeed, that's Mr. —, naming him with a great deal of Respect.
Well Gentlemen, said I, and made myself as familiar with them as I could, I see you are very merry upon your Neighbours, pray let me ask you how you come to distinguish thus among 'em? Why Sir, says the Fellow, Dog K—d, is vastly Rich, and lives like a Hog in his Stye; does no-body any good, but like a Dog, snarles at the Rich, and bites the Poor, and therefore we think he lives more like a Dog, than a Gentleman.
Well, says I, and what's Mr. —? He's just such another, says the saucy Rogue, he is worth the L—d knows how many thousand Pounds, and he that ought to keep a Coach and six Horses, keeps one Pair of Horses for two Coaches; makes his Coachman work in his Garden, because he will keep but one Gardener, when he ought to keep three; and instead of a thorow Livery, gives his Men nothing but a Coat, Hat, and Stockings; and is not that a Dog of a Gentleman, Sir,
says the Fellow?
and clos'd it all with a broad D—n him, by way of Elegance.
I agreed to all this, that I might have the rest of it out, and it pleas'd them all mightily, to see me laugh;
well,
says I,
and what is the Gentleman at this House?
O! says another of them, that's as honest a Gentleman as any in the Country, and he lives like himself; he keeps a better House, and more Servants, than both those Misers, and gives a better Livery, and has more Horses in his Stable than both of them, and yet he has not half their Estate; but it may be,
said I,
he spends more than his Estate can afford; 'tis no matter for that,
says
the first, he lives like a Gentleman, and every-body loves him; a poor Servant gets something in his House, there's Gentlemen, and Ladies, always a visiting there, and they are as merry as the Day's long, and when they go away, the Servants are the better for them; the two Dog-Gentlemen are always at
London
almost, a Stockjobbing, or somewhere or other, I don't know where; they are seldom at-home, so that they have no Company, and keep no House worth a Farthing; no-body is the better for them.
I took my Leave of this knot of Gentlemen soon after, gave 'em Sixpence to drink my Health, and rid round another-way to come into the Street again, where I did at first, that they might not see me go to the first Dog's House, as they call'd him, where I was really going,
I took this time to think what a Liberty these Scoundrels took with the Gentlemen, and how subject every Family is to the scurrilous Tongues of such People as these; for when I came to consider the Circumstances of the three Families, it stood thus: The two first were exceeding Rich, liv'd well, and kept very good Equipages, Servants, Coaches, and Horses, as many as they had Occasion for, and not very few neither; for I think the second kept twelve Servants, and the first five or seven; but they were both what we call managing-Men, that did not with-hold what was proper, as might be seen by the Houses they liv'd in, which are indeed, more like Palaces than Private-Gentlemen's Houses; but they were Men that did not make Ducks and Drakes of their Money, and throw it away on purpose for others to pick it up, and laugh at them.
But the third, who they call'd
an honest Gentleman,
was indeed, of a differing kind, one that kept a good House indeed, but spent twice as much as his Revenue brought in; kept more Horses and Servants too, than he cou'd afford; run into every-body's Debt; was every now and then haunted with Bayliffs, and arrested for Triffles, and dunn'd continually by the Butchers, Bakers, and Corn-chandlers, and such like People; and this was the honest Gentleman; and in a few Years he was fain to take up, put off House-keeping thereabouts, and go into the Country to live cheaper.
But the reason of my telling this Story, is to let you see, what Treatment the Gentlemen suffer on these Accounts, and that this is really a restraint upon them, that they bear with a thousand Insolences from the People, as well the Servants within-doors as the Workmen and trading People withoutdoors, because of their Tongues, and because they would not be made the Scoff of such insolent Rogues without Cause; and this indeed, encourages the Crime, for if they would contemn it more, they would be insulted with it less, nothing encouraging such ill Usage more, than the Concern the Gentlemen shew about it; but to proceed.
I don't know any-thing can give you a more perfect
Idea
of the Behaviour of these sort of People, who I call the Labouring-Poor, than their Combinations in their Business; imposing upon the Gentlemen in the way of their Employments; tho' all Combinations in order to raise the Price of Goods, or Workmanship, are against the known Laws of the Country.
One Instance of this happens just now among the same sort of People, who I have been mentioning; I mean the
Manufacturers,
who in the
West
of
England,
that is to say, the Cloathing-Counties, (which we call the
West,
tho' they are
South-West
) rais'd a kind of Rebellion to support their Insolence against their Masters, and Employers: The case was this,
as I said before,
there has been a sudden Run of Trade, which has lasted now about two Years, and the Workmen in the Country found that the Masters had pressing Orders for Goods.
Taking the advantage of this, they had twice before clamour'd to have their Wages raised, and the Masters had rais'd them, and that considerably; but demanding a third advance of Pay, the Masters, tho' in very civil Terms, refus'd them; nor were they able to give more Wages, without losing by their Goods, and told the Workmen so.
Upon this, the Workmen, particularly the Weavers, form'd a Combination among themselves, not to Work for the Clothiers, unless they rais'd their Wages to such a certain Rate, as they had also agreed on among themselves: They carried on this Combination to such a height, as to gather together in a tumultuous manner to bring all the rest of the Workmen to join with them; to this End they troop'd about the Towns, and entring by Force into the Houses of such honest Weavers as they found were at Work; they broke their Looms to pieces, spoil'd the Warps, and cut in pieces the Goods which they had been at Work upon, insulting also the Masters and Employers in an outrageous manner, to make them yield to raise the Wages, which some were oblig'd to do for fear of their Lives, or for fear of having their Houses plunder'd: On the other-hand, many of the quieter innocent poor Men who would have been glad to have gone on with their Business, suffer'd extremely, for having Work to do,
and the Wages before being sufficent to maintain them,
and their Families perhaps wanting a supply, yet they durst not Work, for fear of being Mobb'd,
as above; in short,
they carry'd this Game on, till the Government was oblig'd to send some regular Troops down to protect the Clothiers, and keep the Peace, and reduce these mad Fellows by Force; which was easily done, and several of them had the Favour of being sent to Jail, as they deserv'd; but the Clemency of the Government spar'd them as to Punishment, when it came to that Point.
The next Account I shall give, has a little more Mirth in it: In a certain considerable Market-Town in
England,
there was a Combination of
Pump-makers,
that is, the
Pumpmakers
in that, and two or three considerable Towns round, made an Agreement, that such and such Gentlemen ought to have new Pumps; upon the Resolutions of this worthy Society, no Gentleman in the Neighbourhood cou'd order a Pump to be mended when it was out of order, but the
Pump-makers
would tell him it was good for nothing him; it cou'd not be mended, and so his Worship must have a new Pump; if he thought they impos'd upon him, and that his Pump might be mended, he would probably send for another
Pump maker;
but it was all one, for the other would be sure to tell him the same Story, that the Tree was rotten below; that it could not be mended; nothing cou'd be done to it; but (just as before) his Worship must have a new Pump; and thus several of the Gentlemen, it seems, were ignorantly drawn in to the Expence of new Pumps, without any manner of Necessity, only for the Gain of those Rogues the
Pump makers.
It happen'd that a particular Gentleman, a Justice of the Peace, and of a very good Estate in the Neighbourhood, who was a little sharper than the rest, fell under their Management; he had a Pump which belong'd to his Stable-Yard, that happen'd to be out of order, and he sent a Servant to the Market-Town near him, for a
Pump-maker:
The
Pump-maker
came readily, look'd upon the Pump; told the Gentleman the Pump cou'd not be mended, but he must have a new one, for the Fault was in the Tree, it was rotten between Wind and Water, and there was no Remedy.
The Gentleman told him he did not doubt but his Pump might be mended, for that it was a new Pump but a little while before, and he would not have a new one again, but must have it mended: Upon this the Fellow told him, he would take it up, and look; and accordingly takes it out of the Well; the Gentleman being present all the while the Pump was taking up, the designing Rogue was not able to play the Prank he intended, for he purpos'd to have made a hole in it, if he did not find one there; but not being able to do that, he acknowleg'd then that it might be mended, and appointed to come the next Day to do it.
To Morrow coming, and two or three toMorrows, but no
Pump-maker;
the Gentleman sent for him, and so for many Days after one-another; and still his Answer was, he would come such or such a Day; on
Tuesday
he would come on
Thursday;
and on
Thursday
he would come a
Saturday;
and on
Saturday
he would come a
Tuesday;
and so from
Tuesday
to
Saturday,
he kept the Gentleman in suspence, and his Well lying open too, for four or five Months: Upon this, the Gentleman sent to another Town, a larger than the other, about seven Miles off, and there he met with the same Treatment exactly; and by this time, and not before, the Gentleman perceiv'd it was a Trick agreed upon among them.
To confirm himself in the Opinion of its being a Trick,
as above,
he sends his Servant once more, and bids him tell the
Pumpmaker,
that the Pump which he took out of the Well, had met with a Disaster, and was spoil'd by Accident, as it lay in the Yard, and a great Piece burnt off of it; and that his Master desir'd him to come and make an Agreement with him for a new Pump; the
Pump-maker
perfectly deceiv'd, said yes, he would wait upon
Esq
— , the next Morning, and accordingly he came; when he came, the Gentleman took no Notice of the Message he had sent, but saluted him thus; O! Mr. L—, I am glad to see you; what you are come to do my Pump, are n't ye? indeed you have been unkind, to be so long; the Fellow said nothing a good-while; upon which, the Gentleman call'd one of his Servants; here
Tanner
(his Man's name) here is Mr. L—, the
Pump-maker
come, to mend the Pump; go with him, and show it him: Sir,
says the Pump-maker,
I understood you had resolv'd to have a new Pump; a new Pump!
says the Gentleman,
why you know you told me this would serve, and you cou'd easily mend it: Sir,
says the Pump-maker,
your Man told me you wanted a new Pump; upon this the Gentleman call'd his Man, who he had instructed before, what to say.
Jacob, says his Master,
did you bid Mr — come over to me to make me a new Pump?
Yes,
Sir,
says Jacob;
but who order'd you to say so
Jacob? says the Master?
why,
says Jacob,
I had been twenty times at his House to bid him come over to mend the old-one, and your Worship knows he never came; and I found what he wanted, so I told him he should come to make a new-one; that I knew would bring him presently.
The
Pump-maker
would have deny'd it at first, but
Jacob
told his Master plainly, it was so, and that he had been at the other
Pump-maker's,
in the Town, and he would not come at all, pretending it was the other Man's Work; with this he laugh'd;
No, if he bad,
says the
Pump-maker, I would have stuck by his Skirts;
and began to be very sawcy.
Well, well,
says the Gentleman,
come, go about it now, and all will be well; Sir, says the Fellow, I can't do it now, I'll come a
Tuesday
and do it for you, upon my Word.
No, no,
says the Gentleman,
I know you can do it now, if you please; if you will not do it, tell me so; if not, I must send for another; at that the Fellow laugh'd impudently, and said, do if you please; what do you mean by that?
says the Gentleman;
you are very rude; I don't doubt but I may have my Pump mended for my Money.
Do then if you can, Sir,
says the Pump-maker,
for I won't meddle with it.
Well then, go about your Business,
says the Gentleman,
I will find
Pump-maker's
enough, I warrant ye.
Not in this County, says the Fellow, jeering, nor the next, and away he went.
The Gentleman finding it was a general Combination of the Society, but resolving not to be impos'd upon by them, waited awhile, intending, tho' it should cost him the more, to send to
London
for a
Pump-maker;
but at length he got Notice, that at a Town eight or ten Miles from him, there was a
Pump-maker
newly set-up, and who, it was probable, was not got into the Knot yet, and besides did not know the Names of the Neighbouring Gentlemen yet, or know their Faces or Dwellings; so he concluded to send for him, not to tell him what it was for, or where he was to go.
The Servant did his Business so well, that the
Pump-maker
came with him, and manag'd so well when he came, that in about two Hours he fully mended the Pump; when he had done, and while the Gentleman was paying the poor Man, somebody by accident call'd the Gentleman by his Name; at which the
Pump-maker
seem'd a little surpris'd, and smil'd; the Gentleman took Notice of it, and ask'd him what he smil'd at? the Man declin'd it a little, but having mended the Pump, and being well paid, he confess'd at last, that if he had known the Gentleman's Name before, he durst not have come; why so,
says the Gentleman?
why Sir,
says he,
we had all Notice that it was resolv'd in the Society, that your Pump should not be mended, and we durst not have done it; what then?
says the Gentleman,
what was to be done with me? nothing Sir,
says he,
only that you should be oblig'd to have a new Pump.
Well,
says the Gentleman,
I hope you will tell them you have mended it, won't you? No indeed, Sir,
says the Pump-maker,
I dare not, and I hope your Worship will not do me so much Prejudice: The Gentleman promis'd Silence, and away went the
Pump-maker.
But the Jest of the Story is still behind; the first
Pump-maker
finding he was sent for no more, was mighty curious to know what was the reason of it; and at length, by some means or other, come to know that the Pump was mended, and set up again; that encreas'd his Curiosity exceedingly, for then he wanted to know who had done it; but that he could not come at by any means; at last, he offer'd the Gentleman's Servants to give them a Bowl of Punch to tell him; upon this, that Servant that had been so often sent to him, took the hint, and laid a Plot for him, for he ow'd him a shrewd Turn for making him have so many Winter-Journeys for nothing; so he told the
Pump-maker
that he would not tell him himself, but if he would come to their Town, and give them the Punch there, that they might be merry, he should know by one means or other.
He promis'd and came accordingly, and very merry they were, not at the Gentleman's House, but at a Publick-House hard by: In their Mirth they drank the Gentleman's Health, and at last, the
Pump-maker's
Health, that mended the Pump: At length, being most of them very drunk, the unlucky Fellow that contriv'd it all, proposed to the Company, that they would all go and drink the Pump's Health in a draught of fair Water, to cool them; it was presently agreed to, and so they jogg'd away to his Master's House, he being gone to
London
some Weeks before; when they came to the Pump, they agreed to drink on their Knees at the Spout of the Pump, without any Mugs or Glasses, and so they did; but when the
Pump-maker's
Turn came to drink, whether they held him fast, or whether they threw him down, or whether he being soundly drunk, fell down, and somebody kept him there; History does not acquaint us of the Particulars, but they pump'd him so heartily, and so effectually, that never was Pick-Pocket better pump'd in the Streets of
London;
and it being withal, a cold Night, he had but a very indifferent Journey home; however, being very warm within, he got no hurt by it; nor could he ever tell who had done it for him, or how he was manag'd, at-all.
In another Place I met with the following Story of a Combination of Thatchers, and 'tis as material to my Purpose, as the other, tho' not so long a Story: A certain Gentleman in
Kent,
who had the Management of some Part of his Estate in his own Hands, and having every Year a great deal more Corn than his Barns would hold, set up the rest in great Stacks or Reiks in his Yard, as is usual in like Cases; a Thatcher in the Neighbourhood was usually employ'd every Year to thatch this Gentleman's Stacks, and his Work generally came to fifty Shillings or three Pound every Year.
It happen'd one Year, that a straggling
Welchman
who was hir'd for Harvest-work, as is common in that County, offer'd his Service to thatch the Stacks, and having shown by his doing one, that he understood it very well, and could do it much better than they were done before, and cheaper too; the Gentleman employ'd him, and he thatch'd the Stacks so well, that he got Work in other Places as well as there, and afterwards settled in the Country, and took a small Farm of the Gentleman, so that he became a Tennant; by which, together with the Merit of his Workmanship, he had a kind of a Title to the thatching of the Stacks ever after.
Some time after this, the Gentleman had a House to thatch for a Tennant, a Storm of Wind having blown off great Part of the old Thatch, and the poor Family being Sick, they were in great Distress to have the House cover'd; the Gentleman sent for his
Welchman
to thatch the House, but was surpriz'd that the poor Man told him, he cou'd not do it; that the thatching of a House was done quite another way and with other Tools, than thatching Stacks of Corn or Hay, and he did not understand it at-all.
The Gentleman then sent to his old Thatcher; but he said, no, let him that thatch'd his Stacks, thatch his House; he sent to another, and he answer'd, no, Goodman — was the Esquire's Thatcher, and he would not take his Work out of his Hand; he sent to a third, and he answer'd no; where was his
Welch
Thatcher? he had brought a
Welchman
into the Country to take poor Men's Trade away, and he would not Work for him.
This,
in short,
went so far, that the poor Family was sore distress'd, and the Gentleman was oblig'd to remove them into an empty House for the present, and buy Tiles to cover his House, that he might not be at the Mercy of the Thatchers any more.
I cou'd load you with Examples of this kind, and divert you too, with agreeable Tales upon the Subject; but tho' it would make my Account as pleasant to you as possible, yet I would not have my Letters be a meer Collection of Story; these may intimate to you, that the Behaviour of which I complain, is not confin'd to one or two Classes of Men, but, in a word, a general Spirit of Insolence and Dishonesty possesses the People I am speaking of, and the Greivance is come now to such a height, that it calls for a speedy Remedy; for if some Laws are not very quickly made, effectually to regulate the Conduct of these People, the Gentlemen in
England
will live far less happily than in other Parts of the World; and above all, far less than they used to do in this Part of it.
There are two other sorts of People here, whose Insolence is so very particular, that indeed, there is sometimes no bearing it, and these are Hackney-Coachmen and Watermen: These are two sorts of People, who have not the Goods, but the Lives of the People they are concern'd with, in their Charge.
The first of these, have once by their over-grown Rudeness oblig'd the Government to take Notice of them, and make Laws for their Regulation; and as there are Commissioners appointed for receiving the Tax they pay to the Publick, so those Commissioners have Power to hear and determine between the Drivers and their Fair, upon any Abuse that happens.
And yet the ordinary Coachmen abate very little of their abusive Conduct, but not only impose in Price upon those that hire them, but refuse to go this or that way, as they are call'd; whereas the Law obliges them to go wherever they are legally requir'd, and at reasonable Hours: This treatment and the particular saucy impudent Behaviour of the Coachmen, has been the Occasion of innumerable Quarrels, Fighting, and Abuses; afronting Gentlemen; frighting and insulting Women; and such Rudenesses, that no civil Government will, or indeed, ought to suffer; and above all, has been the Occasion of the killing several Coachmen, by Gentlemen that have been provoked by the villainous Tongues of those Fellows, beyond the Extent of their Patience.
It was but very lately, that a Gentleman coming out of a Tavern in
Fleetstreet,
call'd a Hackney-Coach about ten a Clock at Night; the Fellow came immediately, which made it evident that he was not hir'd, or in waiting; when he came, he ask'd the Gentleman where he was to go, before he open'd the Door; the Gentleman told him, he would tell him when he was in his Coach, and bade him open the Door.
This the Gentleman did, because he suspected by his Question, that he would not carry him, he being to go to the King's slaughter-House, near
East-Smithfield.
Upon the Gentleman's refusing to tell him,
he said,
that then he would not carry him, and getting up into his Coach-box, drove away
West
to the Standing where he was when he was call'd; one of the Drawers of the Tavern standing by, tells the Gentleman, that if he pleas'd to tell him where he was to go, he would bring the Fellow back, and make him carry him; so the Gentleman told him it was to
East-Smithfield.
Away goes the Boy to the Coachman, and without saying a word to him, till he was just at the Coach-side; here Coach,
says the Boy;
and opening the Door himself, jump'd in, and shut the Door again, before the Fellow could get down; when the Coachman got down,
turn about, says the Boy,
not giving the Coachman time to say,
where must I go:
The Coachman after some grumbling, turn'd about, but would then know where he was to go; I'll tell you presently,
says the Boy,
drive on; when he had gone a little farther, the Boy call'd to him to hold, which being just at the Tavern-Door where the Gentleman had spoken to him, the Coachman began to see he was catch'd, and that it was the same Person; upon which he drove on a good-way, the Boy still calling to him to hold, but to no purpose, till the Fellow had hurried him down as far as
Fleet-Bridge.
The Clamour the Boy made, oblig'd the Fellow to stop at last, so he gets down to let the Boy out; but the Boy held the Door fast, and would not come out; but bad him turn about again, which the Coachman refus'd, and offer'd to pull the Boy out, but he was too strong for that; so that the Coachman was puzzl'd, and knew not what to do, but offer'd to go back, if the Boy would tell him where he was to go; but the Boy would not do that neither; upon this, the Coachman got up in the Box again, and making as if he would turn again, turns half-about, and whipping his Horses, on a sudden, drives down by the side of
Fleet-Ditch,
and stops of a sudden in the Dark, whipps off the Figures from both sides of his Coach, having observ'd that thev had not yet taken the Number of it, and when he had done this, he drives on again; the Boy supposing he had Advantage enough of him, let him go on, to see where the Fellow would drive him; but here the Coachman was too many for him; for at the same time that he whipp'd off the two Figures from his Coach, he had very dextrously hang'd on a wrong Figure in the stead of them
The Boy letting him go on, as I have said, he drove him into
Leather-Lane
in
Holbourn,
and there would have perswaded the Boy to come out again, but to no purpose; upon which he takes both the Horses out, leaves the Coach in the Street, and the Boy in it, and getting up upon one of the Horses, rides away.
The Boy was not aware of this for a great-while, but after some time finding how he was trick'd, he gets out, gets a Watchman to bring his Lanthorn, and taking the Number of the Coach, goes his way home; thinking,
as indeed had it been true, if he had gotten the right Number
or Figure, that he had Advantage enough of the Coachman.
The Coachman had set a Spy to observe what pass'd, who giving Notice that the Boy was gone, he sent another Man with a Pair of Horses, and fetch'd away the Coach.
The next Day the poor Coachman whose real Number this Fellow had put upon the Coach, instead of his own, was surpriz'd with a Summons left at his House, to appear before the Commissioners; but as he had it seems, had no Broil upon his Hands, nor given any Cause of Complaint that he knew of, he went frankly to the Place, to see what was the Matter.
The Gentleman, and the Drawer, both appear'd, and made a grievous Complaint, as well they might, and then the Coachman was call'd; but the Gentleman and Drawer was confounded when they saw a Man appear, which they neither of them knew any thing of; the Boy insisted upon the Number of the Coach, and brought the Watchman to support his Evidence, one swearing it was the Number which was upon the Coach, in which he was driven about by Force; and the Watchman swore it was the Number upon the Coach which was left in the Street, and which the Boy call'd him to.
This put the poor innocent Coachman to prove where he was all Day, and what People he carried, which, as it happen'd, he was very well able to do; so it was concluded, that the other Coachman had got a Counterfeit Figure, and they cou'd make no more of it, the Coachman having been too cunning for the Boy; but you will observe on the other-hand, that had they found the right Person, which they would easily have done if they had had his right Figure, they would have punish'd him very severely.
1. For refusing to carry the Gentleman, when he was first call'd.
2. For carrying the Boy away when he call'd to him to hold.
3. For leaving the Coach with the Boy in it, who,
tho' a Boy,
was actually his Fair, and ought to have been carry'd where he had given Orders.
But the Coachman was too old for the Boy in that, so he escap'd what he deserv'd at that time, and they do indeed, often escape, and run the venture of being punish'd; which makes them still so insolent, that it is grievance almost unsufferable; many People give them just what they will have, rather than have the trouble of prosecuting them, and this hardens them; but on the other-hand sometimes they meet with Justice, or rather Justice meets with them, and then they are handled as they deserve,
The next are the Watermen; and indeed the Insolence of these, tho' they are under some Limitations too, is yet such, at this time, that it stands in greater Need than any other, of severe Laws, and those Laws being put in speedy Execution.
Some Years ago, one of these very People being Steers-man of a Passage-boat, between
London
and
Gravesend,
drown'd three and fifty People at one time: The Boat was bound from
Gravesend
to
London,
was very full of Passengers and Goods, and deep loaden: The Wind blew very hard at
South West,
which being against them, oblig'd them to
turn to Windward;
so the Seamen call it, when they tack from side to side, to make their Voyage against the Wind, by the help of the Tide.
The Passengers were exceedingly frighted when in one tack stretching over the Stream, in a Place call'd
Long-Reach,
where the River is very broad, the Waves broke in upon the Boat, and not only wetted them all, but threw a great deal of Water into the Boat, and they all begg'd of the Steers-man, or Master, not to venture again: He, sawcy and impudent, mock'd them, ask'd some of the poor frighted Women if they were afraid of going to the
Devil;
bid them say their Prayers,
and the like,
and then Stood-over again, as it were, in a Jest: The Storm continuing, he shipp'd a great deal of Water that time also: By this time, the rest of the Watermen begun to perswade him, and told him,
in short,
that if he Stood-over again, the Boat would founder, for that she was a great deal the deeper for the Water she had taken in, and one of them begg'd of him not to venture; he swore at the Fellow, call'd him Fool, bade him let him alone to his Business, and he would warrant him; then used a vulgar Sea-Proverb, which such Fellows have in their Mouths,
Blow Devil, the more Wind, the better Boat.
The Fellow told him in so many Words, he would drown all the Passengers, and before his Face began to strip, and so did two more, that they might be in Condition to swim for their Lives: This extremely terrify'd the Passengers; who having a Cloth, or Tilt, over them, were in no Condition to save their Lives, so that there was a dreadful Cry among them; and some of the Men were making way to come at the Steers-man, to make him by Force let fly the Sail, and stand back for the shore; but before they could get to him, the Waves broke in upon the Boat, and carried them all to the Bottom, none escaping but the three Watermen, that were prepar'd to Swim.
It was but poor Satisfaction for the Loss of so many Lives, to say, the Steers-man was drown'd with them, who ought indeed to have died at the Gallows, or on the Wheel; for he was certainly the Murtherer of all the rest.
I have many times pass'd between
London
and
Gravesend
with these Fellows in their smaller Boats, when I have seen them in spite of the Shrieks and Cries of the Women, and the Perswasions of the Men-Passengers, and indeed, as if they were the more bold, by how much the Passengers were the more afraid;
I say,
I have seen them run needless Hazards, and go as it were, within an Inch of Death, when they have been under no Necessity of it, and if not in Contempt of the Passengers, it has been in meer Laziness to avoid their rowing; and I have been sometimes oblig'd, especially when there has been more Men in the Boat of the same Mind, so that we have been strong enough for them, to threaten to cut their Throats, to make them hand their Sails, and keep under Shore, not to fright as well as hazard the Passengers, when there was no Need of it.
One time, being in one of these Boats all alone, coming from
Gravesend
to
London,
the Wind freshn'd, and it begun to blow very hard after I was come about three or four Mile of the way; and as I said above, that I always thought those Fellows were the more venturous, when their Passengers were the most fearful, I resolv'd I would let this Fellow alone to himself; so I lay down in the Boat, as if I was a-sleep, as is usual.
Just when I lay down, I call'd to the Waterman, It blows hard Waterman,
said I,
can you swim? no, Sir,
says he;
nor can't your Man swim neither?
said I;
no, Sir,
says the
Servant;
well then, says I, take care of yourselves, I sshall shift as well as you, I suppose;
and so down I lay: However I was not much dispos'd to Sleep, but kept the Tilt which they cover their Passengers with, open in one Place, so that I could see how things went.
The Wind was fair, but over-blow'd so much, that in those Reaches of the River, which turn'd cross-way, and where the Wind by consequence was thwart the Stream, the Water went very high, and we took so much into the Boat, that I began to feel the Straw which lay under me at the Bottom, was wet; so I call'd to the Waterman, and jesting, told him, they must go all-hands to the Pump;
he answer'd,
he hop'd I should not be wet, but it's bad Weather Master,
says he,
we can't help it: No, no,
says I,
'tis pretty well yet, go on.
By and by I heard him say to himself, It blows very hard, and every now and then he repeated it, and sometimes thus, 'Twill be a dirty Night, 'twill be a terrible Night,
and the like;
still I lay still, and said nothing.
After some time, and his bringing out several such Speeches,
as above,
I rouz'd as if I had but just wak'd; well, Waterman,
says I;
how d'ye go on? very indifferently,
says he;
it blows very hard; ay, so it does,
says I;
where are we? a little above
Erith, says he;
so down I lay again, and said no more for that time.
By and by he was at it again, it blows a Frett of Wind; and it blows very hard,
and the like;
but still I said nothing; at last we ship'd a dash of Water over the Boat's-head, and the spry of it wetted me a little, and I started up again, as if I had been asleep; Waterman,
says I,
what are you doing? what did you ship a Sea? ay,
says the Waterman,
and a great one too; why it blows a Frett of Wind; well, well,
says I,
come have a good Heart, where are we now? almost in
Gallions, says he,
that's a Reach below
Woolwich.
Well, when we got into the
Gallions
Reach, there the Water was very rough, and I heard him say to his Man,
Jack
we'll keep the Weather-Shore aboard, for it grows dark, and it blows a Storm; ay thought I, had I desir'd you to stand in under shore, you would have kept off in meer Bravado; but I said nothing; by and by his Mast broke, and gave a great Crack, and the Fellow cry'd out,
Lord have mercy upon us!
I started up again, but still spoke chearfully; what's the matter now?
says I;
L—d Sir,
says he,
how can you sleep, why my Mast is come by the board; well, well,
says I,
then you must make a Goosewing; a Goose-wing! why,
says he,
I can't carry a knot of Sail, it blows a Storm; well,
says I,
if you can't carry any Sail, you must drive up under shore then, you have the Tide under foot, and with that I lay down again: The Man did as I said, a piece of his Mast being yet standing, he made what they call a Goosewing Sail, that is, a little Piece of the Sail out, just to keep the Boat steddy, and with this, we got up as high as
Blackwall;
the Night being then come on, and very dark, and the Storm increasing, I suffer'd myself to be perswaded to put in there, tho' five or six Mile short of
London;
whereas indeed, I was resolv'd to venture no farther, if the Waterman would have done it.
When I was on shore, the Man said to me, Master you have been us'd to the Sea, I don't doubt; why you can sleep in a Storm without any Concern, as if you did not value your Life; I never carry'd one in my Life that did so; why 'twas a wonder we had not founder'd; why,
says I,
Friend, for that, you know I left it all to you; I did not doubt but you would take care of yourself; but after that, I told him my other Reason for it; the Fellow smil'd, but own'd the thing was true, and that he was the more cautious a great deal, for that I took no thought about it; and I am still of Opinion, that the less frighted and timerous their Passengers are, the more cautious and careful the Watermen are, and the least apt to run into Danger; whereas if their Passengers appear frighted, then the Watermen grow sawcy and audacious, show themselves vent'rous, and contemn the Dangers which they are really expos'd to.
I have heard abundance of Tragical Stories of these Fellows, and I know some of them to be true; indeed, there are very many Lives lost by their audacious Carriage: What I have said, may give you a true
Idea
of their general Behaviour; and that,
in a word,
they are beyond Belief, abusive, insolent, and saucy, even to the People that they get their Bread by; insomuch, that 'tis an Evil so growing, and so offensive, that there is a general Cry against it, and yet such is this glorious thing call'd
English Liberty,
that I scarce see it probable there can be any suitable Provision made against it.
I am,
&c.
LETTER VI.
Dear Brother,
I HAVE, in my
last,
given you a short View of the Behaviour of our labouring Poor, who I call Servants without-Doors, and perticularly, let you see that, as I said before, they are not at-all the better for the advance of Price on their Labour, but that on the contrary, that it is all in spite of Double-Pay.
It is hard to say it of rational Creatures, and such as we are to call Christians, but I shall be justified from the Experience of most of the Gentlemen that employ Workmen, and keep Servants, that the Poor are not to be won, it is impossible to oblige them; no, not with the advance of their Wages.
I shall now give you the trouble of showing you, that it is
the same thing
in its Degree with the Servants
within Doors;
only with this Distinction, that the Aggravations are greatest in the latter, because their Obligations are generally greater, and they are treated with more Distinction, of which I shall speak at large in its Order; but I confine myself to the Particular of encrease of Wages, in which Case it is not my Opinion only,
I assure
you,
that this raising the Price of Wages has ruin'd the Servants, and made them worse; I say, 'tis not my Opinion only, 'tis the Experience of the whole Nation; and yet unhappily all the Masters and Mistresses in
England
are drawn into it by an unaccountable Concurrence of Causes, which it is not easie to give a Reason for.
1. The general Complaint of the badness of Servants, makes those few that are good for any-thing, so valuable, that Masters and Mistresses think they can never do too much to encourage them; so they level themselves to them in their Intimacies, load them with Gifts, with Cloaths, and other Advantages, and the mechanick Spirit not able to make a right Judgment of things, judges presently in his own Favour;
namely,
that his own Merit has procur'd him all that; this exalts him in his own Opinion, and,
in a Word,
ruins him; for Pride and a good Servant are as inconsistent, as Darkness with Light: Thus the few good Servants that come upon the Stage of the World, are ruin'd and spoil'd, and that very Bounty which is the Reward of their early good-Behaviour, and should be the Encouragement of their Diligence and Humility, makes them unsufferable; makes them familiar, arrogant, proud, impertinent, and at last, impudent: But I shall give you a long Letter upon the Subject of the Usage of Servants by their Masters; I am at present upon the Alternative,
viz.
the Usage of Masters by their Servants, and that under the Obligations of advance of Wages, or,
as I call it,
in the Case of Labourers
Double Pay.
2. Some think that the demand for Servants is greater in
England
than it us'd to be, and I believe it is so; not that I will undertake to say the Nation is richer, because that might be disputed; but that Luxury, and living is encreas'd, that I believe no-body will deny; that People live more profusely, keep greater Equipages, and more Servants, than ever was done before.
3. As there is a greater Demand for Servants, so they are not only oblig'd to take up with such as can be had; but to give more Wages than usual, to procure them.
4. There may be something in the publick Circumstances of the Nation, which has been drein'd of People (
Men especially
) by a long and fatal War of near 30 Years, which carried away, if the Judgment of those who understand that Part, may be depended upon, above five Hundred Thousand Men out of the three Kingdoms, first and last; either kill'd, or run into foreign Service, or dead of Diseases in the Service, or otherwise remov'd from the general Body of the People.
5. Our Plantations carry off every Year very great Numbers of Servants, especially of the Female Sex; of which, they tell us, that there has, within thirty Years past, above 200000 gone away voluntarily to
Virginia,
and the neighbouring Colonies, meerly to seek their Fortunes,
as they call it,
which, in a word, is the main Support of those Colonies, as well for their Service, as for breeding and multiplying the People there; for those do not go on the Terms of transported Felons, but they bind themselves for five Years, more or less, and generally when their Time is expir'd, sometimes before it, get marry'd and settl'd; turn Planters, and by Industry grow rich; or get to be Yearly Servants in good Families, upon Terms;
that is,
to have Wages, and not to work in the Fields, as at first they did; and these,
as I am assur'd,
make much better Servants, than those they leave behind them in
England.
N.B.
The chief Numbers of these Voluntier Servants, go out of
Scotland, Ireland,
and the
West
and
North
of
England;
many more than from
London.
Now it may be true, that these things lessening the Numbers of Servants, and on the other hand, the manner of living among the better Sort, causing a greater Number of Servants to be wanted; both together may cause the rate of Servants Wages to rise, as scarcity of any Goods, and the encrease of the Demand for them, raises the Value at Market.
But the Mystery of all this is, What shou'd be the reason why the Servants shou'd be the worse for it? for that, I refer you to what I said before, namely,
the Error is in their Morals;
the Money prompts their Vice, and their Vice depraves their Manners; so that very Advantage which shou'd encourage them to Diligence, and an humble Behaviour, is the ruin both of their Diligence, and Behaviour.
I have a remarkable Story to tell you, to illustrate and confirm this; in which, not the Brutishness of one Servant is concern'd, but after it the Behaviour of a great Number; and I think indeed, it may give you an
Idea
of the general Temper and Conduct of Servants among us; great part of the
Story
I am particularly acquainted with; and can therefore vouch the Truth of the Fact.
A Gentleman, a particular Friend of mine, (and by that means,
as I have said,
I came to a true Account of the Case)
had a Groom,
whom he took from the Horse-Heels, to be his particular Footman, or Serving man, to wait upon him wherever he went; upon which Remove, he considerably augmented his Wages; and as my Friend lov'd Sport, and kept a good Pack of Fox-Hounds, he took the more Delight in this Fellow, because he was a good Horseman, lov'd the Game too, and was always a keen Sportsman in the Field; and which still added to the Value he had for him, he knew him to be a very stout Fellow of his Hands, and had often seen him try'd.
This Fellow however, as is the Fate of most Scoundrels, cou'd not bear his good Fortune, but believing himself advanc'd not in Kindness to him, but on a pure account of his wonderful Merit, grew proud, and in the first Place uneasie to his Fellow-Servants, by his haughty Carriage; and sometimes he took upon him to be saucy to his Master.
It was upon an Accident happening one Day in their Sport,
viz.
that he rid over one of the Hounds, that his Master was, it seems, in some Passion with him upon it; and
Edward,
(
so they call'd him
) gave his Master two or three very insolent saucy Answers, that so provok'd his Master, who was angry before, that he lifted up his Cane at him once or twice, as if he intended to lend him a Turn or two with it, but did not strike at that time; when
Edward,
instead of shifting from his Master, (as a modest Fellow wou'd have done) fac'dabout to him; and as his Master's Hand was lifted up as if to strike, tho',
as he said,
he did not intend to strike him; he said to him, with a kind of a sawcy Air, and a Grin,
Sir! Sir! don't strike me, pray don't strike me:
Why Sir, says the Master,
why shou'd I not strike you? I'm sure you deserve it:
But Sir, says Edward,
I desire you wou'd not strike me, because I shall be apt to strike again.
Say'st thou so,
Edward, says the Gentleman his Master, smiling; (and as he said to me, all his Passion went away that Moment)
Come
Edward,
Thou bast a good Stick in thy Hand, and I'm sure, a better than mine;
but since it is come to that,
here's no-body by, and I give thee my Word for it, thou shalt have fair Play, and if thou art too hard for me,
I forgive thee,
and do thy best; but,
he added,
depend upon it,
Edward,
if I have the better of thee, thou wilt feel me a little;
therefore
look to thy self,
Edward.
If the Fellow had been Master of the least Grain of Modesty, he wou'd have ask'd his Master's Pardon,
and said,
that he did not desire to engage with him; and he might easily have seen that his Master, (who indeed was one of the best-humour'd Gentlemen in
England,
) at one soft Word, wou'd have forgiven him all that had pass'd; but he was the same
sawcy Edward
as before, and return'd in a grumbling sawcy way,
That he wou'd not be can'd by ne'er a Master in
England.
Never hereafter, it may be,
Edward, says his Master;
but it happens so, I doubt, that you must now;
and with that Word, he laid him home a smart Blow or two upon the Shoulders, not striking at his Head at first; when
Edward
felt it come hard, it rais'd his Mettle, and he struck again indeed,
as he said he wou'd,
and follow'd it with a strong Hand, and a good Heart, for a great while; nay, he play'd his Staff so well, and his Blows came so thick, that,
as his Master said, Edward
for a-while beat him a little out of his Play, and hurt one of his Hands, at the first or second Blow.
But his Master, who understood a Staff somewhat better than
Edward,
took all his Blows upon his Cane, and return'd them so warmly, that at last
Edward
cry'd
Quarter; No, no,
Edward,
said his Master, No Quarter; Fight or Run
is the Word, and so follow'd him with his Blows very thick: Well,
Edward
was stout too, and he cou'd not
Run,
but defended himself again a little while, and then cry'd
Quarter
again:
No, Edward,
says his Master,
no Quarter I tell you,
and laid furiously at him, so that he broke his Head in two or three Places:
Edward
seeing the Blood come, was rather enrag'd than daunted,
and said aloud,
and in a kind of Fury,
What do you intend to murther me? No, no, Edward,
says his Master,
a broken Head won't kill you; Fight
or
Run,
Edward,
that's the Bargain you know;
and still they laid on a-both sides:
You may kill me if you please,
says Edward,
I'll never Run for the stoutest Man alive, tho' I die upon the Spot;
and with that he flung himself off of his Horse (
for the first of the Fight was on Horseback
) and comes up to his Master, in a Rage, and almost unhors'd him: But his Master spurring his Horse, sprung from him a little, and throwing himself off from his Horse also, came at him on-foot too;
Edward
seeing that, strove to close-in with his Master, but cou'd not easily do it, yet after some time he got within his Blows, and boldly collar'd him; but his Master being a strong Man disingag'd himself, and struck up his Heels. Now
Edward
(says his Master) the Fight's over; I am no more fighting with thee as thy Equal:
But now,
as thy Master, I
must correct thee for thy Impudence;
upon which he can'd him heartily, and very severely, and the next Day sent him to the House of Correction, where he was soundly lash'd; then sent him his Wages, and dismiss'd him his Service.
Here was a Specimen of an
English
Servant, who, had not his Master been one of the bravest and stoutest Gentlemen in the Kingdom,
Edward
had triumph'd over him; for
Edward
was really a bold, daring, resolute Fellow, as the whole Encounter testifies.
When you read this Story, you will blame the Gentleman, perhaps, for engaging thus Voluntier with his Servant, especially at such Weapons too; that many a course brawny Fellow may be an Over-match for a Gentleman; that he ought to have conceal'd his Resentment 'till he had brought him home, and then have sent him to the House of Correction, as he did afterwards; or that at first (instead of caning him) he should have run him thro', and sent him to the Devil for a better Master.
But several Things alter the Case; first, as for killing Servants for their Insolence, that will not do in
England
at all; neither would it be well, if it were lawful, for many Reasons; the Constitution of
England
refers all Justice of that Kind to the Laws, and it would have brought the Master into a Labyrinth of Trouble, besides the Crime of it.
It is true, the Master levell'd himself too much; and,
as a neighbouring Gentleman afterwards told him,
it was a Kind of Excess of Gallantry to measure his Staff with his Footman, who eat his Bread, and wore his Livery; but as he scorn'd to be threat'ned with the
Battoon
of a Scoundrel, and on the other-hand knew his own Ability to deal with him, it was a Kind of Sport to him at first; tho', as he told me in relating the Story,
for I had it from his own Mouth,
He did not think he should have had his Hands so full with him as he had.
Again, as to killing him, or running him thro', you are to observe, that our
English
Gentlemen (when they are a hunting) do not ride with Swords or Fire-Arms, as you do in
France,
but with a single white Belt about them, and a long Whip (which they call a
Hunting-Whip
) in their Hands; and it was by meer Accident that this Gentleman had a good Cane in his Hand; for
Edward
had a strong Oaken Plant, as they call it here, which is a very good Weapon in the Hand of a stout Fellow, as
Edward
was.
But this is by the by; the Case was as above, and
Edward
was handsomely can'd, as he deserv'd; and was very coursly us'd too afterwards,
as I told you,
at the House of Correction, whither his Master sent him; for as his Master was in Commission of the Peace, he was capable of committing him to the House of Correction, without another Magistrate.
But I have not quite done with
Edward
yet, for he went about the Country, raving afterwards at his Master; reporting, That he had beaten him unmercifully, with
any Provocation, or Fault; that he would have murther'd him, if he had not at
been forced to resist him; and that now
had sent him to the House of Correctio
because he could not have his Will of him▪
This grew into a Clamour about the
try; and it came to that Height, that some
the Fellow Servants began to talk roundly about it: One said, He would not be us'd so by any Master in
England;
and that, as they knew
Edward
to be a stout Fellow, they said he was able to have defended himself, and he was a Fool he did not; and in short, they carried it so far, that they began to be saucy, and to insult the Gentleman as he went about the Country: Once in particular, as he was riding on Horse-back thro' a little Village not far from the Place where he liv'd, there happen'd to be a Gang of Footmen, and Gentlemen's Gardeners, and such Fellows, at an Alehouse Door, and they began to flout him, and throw out their saucy Jests at him; and one call'd out to his Man, You
Ralphson
(that it seems was the Fellow's Name) have a Care, you'll have a Drubbing next time, it may be: The Gentleman took no Notice of it at all; only as he was riding before on a pretty full Trot, he check'd his Pace a little upon it, and went sostly to hear what else they said; and as they were far from being modest in their Speech, one of them calls out to another who stood over the Way,
JACK, would you have been serv'd so, JACK? Jack
answer'd
No not I,
and swore to it by his Maker; the first return'd, No,
Damn him,
nor I; I would I had been in
Edward
's Place,
Jack,
I would have shewn him the Difference of it, and then added the usual Oath, B— G—,
I would not have stood still to be murther'd;
I would have let him known
Servants are not Dogs;
there's never a Gentleman in
England
should have us'd me so:
Ay!
says a Third,
Edward
was a Fool; every-body knows
Edward
is as stout a Fellow as any in all the Country, and was able to have dealt with him; ay, with two such as he,
says the other!
But
Edward
's a modest Fellow, and was loth, because it was his Master: Loth!
Says the other;
if it had been the best Master that ever wore a Head, I wou'd not have took it of him; I wou'd it had been my Lot, he shou'd have repented abusing a Servant as long as he liv'd, G— Damn him.
The Gentleman stopt his Horse short at this Fellow's Words, but did not turn about, or look behind him; nor did the Fellow baulk his Language for his being heard; but the Gentleman, I say, stopping a little, and calling his Servant up to him, Whose Servant is that,
says he?
His Man told him, Sir
Edward W—
's; Very well,
says his Master,
and whose Servant is
Jack,
pray? And his Man told him whose Man he was also.
One of the Gang, while the Gentleman call'd his Man up to him, calls out to the First, and with the usual Oath
Damn me,
he knows you,
Tom,
says he, he asks his Man if you are not Sir
Edward W—
's Coachman; know me,
says he,
Damn me let him know me, any-body may know me, I am Sir
Edward W—
's Coachman, I a'n't ashamed of my self; Damn me my Master's a very honest Gentleman; Damn me, if I had such a Master as he, I wou'd overthrow him the first time I drove him over
Chalk-hill,
and break his Neck B— G—, he should murther no more Servants I warrant him.
All this was so loud, and with so much Insolence, that, as my Friend told me, he had a great deal to do, to restrain his Passion; but he consider'd that they were all Footmen, and Gardeners, and such Fellows, Servants among the neighbouring Gentlemen
; and that he might have better Sport with them (as he call'd it) another Way; also it came into his Head, that this very Fellow, as saucy as he was, ought to have Justice done him; for that it was certain by his Way of talking, that
Edward,
or some-body for him, had told a Pack of horrid Lies to this Fellow; and that the Story had not been handed about as it ought to be told; so he went off, and rode immediately to the Gentleman's House, whose Servant had treated him thus, and finding him at home, tells him the whole Story, what his Coachman had said of him, and the Manner of it; then desiring a Pen and Ink, and Paper, he set it all down in Writing, and call'd in his own Servant, who Sir
Edward
examin'd upon Oath (for they were both Justices) to the Particulars; and the Servant both remembring the Words exactly, and knowing the Fellows, made Oath to the Substance of it all; his Examination agreeing exactly with his Master's Narration of the Fact.
When he had done thus, he added, And now Sir
Edward
you must give me Leave to observe to you, that I am satisfied your Coachman, and all the rest of them, have one Thing to be said in their Favour; namely, That they have
Edward
's Story wrong, and that they understand I strook and can'd my Man, either without Cause, or without a sufficient Cause, and that I would have murther'd him, and the like; for I have been told the Fellow does make out his Story in such a Manner, being ashamed to tell the whole Truth of it; so that I find I am obliged by these Gentlemen (Servitors) to tell the Truth, and make the Story publick, that I may not pass for such a Master as your Coachman thinks me to be: Pray therefore give me Leave to let you into the short History of the Affair between my Man
Edward
and I.
With all my Heart,
says Sir Edward,
for I have been told the Story a great many Ways already, and perhaps none of them right; upon this the Gentleman tells him the whole Story, in the Manner as I have related it above.
Well Sir,
says Sir Edward,
upon my Word you have but given him Part of his Due; tho' indeed you acted a Kind of Excess of Gallantry, to measure your Staff with a Footman, who eat your Bread: I assure you
Edward
wou'd have been too hard for me, if I had done so: But after all,
added Sir Edward,
what had my Rogue to do with it? I assure you I shall take him to Task for it another Way: No Sir,
says my Friend,
if your Servant cou'd but be found, I wou'd first be glad to hear in what Manner he has been inform'd of the Story; for if,
as I say,
he he has been misinform'd of the Thing, and that by
Edward
himself, then he is not so much to blame, and I must take Care to prevent
Edward
's telling his Tale any more, or I shall be mob'd by all the Gentlemen's Servants in the Country.
Truly Sir,
says Sir Edward,
I think we, and all the Gentlemen in the Country, are mob'd by our Servants already; but I promise you, Sir, I will take Care to do you Justice upon my Servant, he shall insult you no more; upon this he call'd another Servant, and sent him out to look for
Thomas
the Coachman.
Thomas
had suspected that the Gentleman was gone to his Master's, and watch'd him; and supposing he should be sent for, took care that when his Fellow Servant came for him, he should lye for him, and carry back Word that he could not be found; for, that Servants will always lye for one another is no new Thing here: But as soon as ever he understood
Esq
C—
was gone Home, he comes, and takes care (tho' at a Distance) that his Master should see him, rather before any-body should tell him he was come, that he might rather seem to offer himself than be call'd.
As soon as his Master saw him, he, in a Manner that might let the Fellow see he was angry, call'd to him,
Come hither, Mister, I must speak with you a little;
on the other hand,
Thomas,
to let his Master see a little that he
intended to be saucy,
answer'd very loud,
Yes, Sir,
and so comes on; when he was come, What's the Meaning, Sir,
says Sir Edward,
that you behave so, that Gentlemen are oblig'd to come to me, and complain of your abusing them on the Highway.
Sir,
says Thomas,
I abuse no-body:
Says Sir Edward,
Yes, you have abus'd an honest Gentleman, and one that all the County knows to be so; and you have abus'd him in such a Manner, as no Villain but your self could have the Impudence to do, and as no Servant of mine shall be suffer'd to do, I assure you.
As you please, Sir, for that,
says Thomas;
I know who you mean, Sir,
Esq
C—
has been here, I suppose, and made his Complaint; I wish I had been at home, you should have heard me say all that I said of him, to his Face, I do not think any Servant ought to be civil to him.
What mean you by that, Sir,
sayr Sir Edward?
I assure you, it was well for you then, that you was not here, for if you had said that to his Face, and in my House too, Sir, that you have said behind his Back, I assure you, I wou'd have sent you to the House of Correction my self; you begin very saucily, methinks; what a Master have I been to you, that you shou'd give me such an Answer?
To the House of Correction! Sir,
says Thomas,
with a Kind of a Grin, and for
Esq
C—!
I ne'er was sent to the House of Correction yet, nor never threat'ned with it before, and I have done nothing to deserve it now, Sir; if you don't like my Service, Sir, you may please to provide your self, I won't be sent to the House of Correction for talking to such a Man as
Esq
C—
Very well, Sir,
says Sir Edward,
I'll take your Warning; but that is not to the Purpose, I must still have Satisfaction from you, Sir, about your abusing a very honest Gentleman, for I will have the Story out to the Bottom.
A Gentleman! Sir, he's no Gentleman,
says Thomas;
he does not deserve the Name of a Gentleman, and I will affront him as often as ever I see him, let it be where it will, tho' it was in the very Church, and so will all the Gentlemen's Servants in this County.
Say you so, Sir?
says Sir Edward;
then, I perceive, there's a Combination among you, is there, to abuse this Gentleman? I assure you, Sir, he is a Match for you all, and he may chance to bring some of you to the Gallows, if you go on.
Thomas
replies,
He a Match for us all!
I wish I had been in
Edward
's Place, I wou'd have let him see, that Servants are not Dogs, nor to be murther'd every Time a Master pleases to be in a Passion for Nothing.
Yes, I suppose,
says Sir Edward,
you wou'd have used me as that Villain offer'd to use his Master, wou'd you? I assure you, Sir, if you had offer'd it, or threat'ned it,
as he did,
I wou'd not have given you the Favour of a Bastinado; I wou'd have shot you thro' the Head, or the best Dog of you, that ever wore a Livery.
Then I think 'tis Time any Man shou'd quit such a Master; if you should tell Servants so before-hand, Sir,
says Thomas impudently,
no-body will take your Livery: Well that is not the Question with you, Sir,
says Sir Edward;
but since you have not only abus'd a Gentleman, who you know is your Master's Friend, and given him impudent Language, but threaten to do the like, and acknowledge a Combination among you, and other Gentleman's Servants, to be saucy to this Gentleman hereafter, I must enquire farther into it; this is a dangerous Business, Servants are come to a heigth, I find, that in a little Time, they will tell their Masters what they shall, or shall not, say to them; I'll have none of the Society in my Service, I assure you.
Well, Sir,
says Thomas,
I am ready to quit your Service then, for I will be at Liberty to speak my Mind to
Esq
C—
I said Nothing of you, Sir, that are my Master, and as for him, I value him not; if I must give an Account to you, Sir, I shall fetch you my Livery, Sir, I hope I do you no Injury, Sir, in leaving your Service.
No, no,
not at all,
Thomas, says Sir Edward calmly,
bring your Cloaths, and give them the Steward, and take your Wages, 'tis Time to be rid of such Servants.
Away went
Thomas,
hot and fiery, and saucy enough, even to his Master too, as you may see; I say, away he went to fetch his Livery; in the mean time
Sir Edward
sent not a Servant (for they seem'd to be all in the Quarrel, so that he would not trust them) but one of his Sons to fetch the Constable, and order'd him not to meddle with
Thomas,
'till they were quite parted, 'till he had his Wages, and left his Livery, and every thing; and that then he should take him just as he was without the Door, going away, and bring him in again, and for this he gave him his Warrant, as a Justice of the Peace.
When the Fellow had brought down his Livery, and deliver'd up his Charge (as Coachman) to the Steward, the Steward came in to let
Sir Edward
know it, and ask'd if he should pay him his Wages, and dismiss him, or whether he would see him again?
Sir Edward said,
No, no, prithee don't let me be troubled any more with his Sauciness, I shall but be provok'd, perhaps, to use him as he deserves: In the mean-time it was easy for
Sir Edward
to see, that even the Steward himself seem'd to be of
Thomas
's side, and think he had hard Measure, to be questioned for affronting such a Man as
Esq
C—
However,
Sir Edward
(who had all his Measures ready, and his Son with the Constable attending without the outer Gate) waited to see the Issue, and
Thomas
was dismiss'd; when he had his Wages, and all was over,
Thomas
wanted to see his Master; no,
says the Steward,
my Master says he has nothing to say any more to you, and won't be disturb'd; at this he began to be very rude, and loud, and he would see
Sir Edward;
he was not his Master now, he said, but he wanted to speak with him; and other Servants, seeing him rude, desired him to be easy, and go about his Business, but he would not stir, and swore, and hector'd, that he would speak with
Sir Edward,
he did not then call him his Master, but
Sir Edward;
that he had Business with him, and would speak with him; the Steward said,
Sir Edward
was busy, and would not be disturb'd; well, it would not do a great while; he told the Steward, he answered for
Sir Edward
without his Order; if he would go to
Sir Edward,
and tell him he desired to speak with him, and he refused him, then he knew what he had to do, but he would not take an Answer from him.
Why,
says the Steward,
if I do, perhaps you will not take the Answer from me then, any more than you will now; yes, he said, if he came back, and told him (upon his Word) what Answer
Sir Edward
gave, he would be satisfied; so the Steward went in to his Master, and
Sir Edward,
who had heard all that pass'd, stood at the Door of his Parlour, and calling aloud (but calmly) to his Steward, that
Thomas
might hear, bade him tell
Thomas,
that if he would be quiet, and not be saucy, he would speak with him again in an Hour, and so he might come again in that Time; so
Thomas
went away.
As soon as he was out of the outer Gate, the Constable meets him, and takes him up, telling him it was on the Complaint of
Esq
C—
and that he must go in again; the Steward, who was not parted from him, and was secretly his Friend, but angry that he had been so rude to his own Master, said to him, You need not have been in such Haste, I see, to speak with my Master, I find you are like to see him sooner than he propos'd to you.
Thomas
gave him little Answer, but the Constable, shewing his Warrant, ask'd for
Sir Edward,
and they were order'd to come in.
When they were call'd in, the Constable, who had been furnish'd with the Information, sworn to by
Esq
C—
's Man, and with the Account given by
Esq
C—
in Writing, presented them both to
Sir Edward,
as Justice of the Peace, and told him there was
Esq
C—
's Servant at the Door, to justify all he had said: So
Sir Edward,
and his late Servant, after reading the Paper, had the following short Dialogue.
Well
Thomas,
I find I am to be troubled with you again sooner than I intended; you hear what Mr.
C—
's Servant has depos'd, what do you say to it?
Say to it, Sir, what wou'd you have me say to it?
Sir,
the Fellow is a Rascal, and a Villain, to come with such a Story here; and his Master, I think, is little better; all the Country knows the Story as well as I, and there's not a Gentleman's Servant round, but wou'd have said as much as I did; he must expect it where ever he goes.
Thou art very hot,
Thomas,
and a little impudent to me too, to answer in this Manner; I have nothing to do with the rest, but my Business is with you at present, and you had best not be so saucy, I advise you to it.
I was born saucy,
Sir,
I can't help it.
I have known many a Child be cur'd of Distempers they were born with, and I think you might have been cur'd of it by this Time, you are old enough.
That may be,
Sir,
but I shall never be cur'd of it: But that's nothing to the Case before your Worship; what am I brought here for?
As to that,
Thomas,
I thought to have talk'd with you upon it indeed, if you had been able to behave as become you; but I must take another Course with you first; I'll try if I can't cure you of being saucy first, that Distemper which you say you were born with: Here, Constable, do you secure this Fellow, 'till I make his
Mittimus;
I must send him to a Doctor, to be cur'd.
What you please, Sir, if you shew me the Way into a Prison, Sir, I'll find the Way out again, I can find Bail.
I shall not meddle with that,
Thomas;
you may bring your
Habeas Corpus,
if you please, but I'll make you take a little Physick first.
[To the Constable.]
Here Mr.
Constable,
carry him to the House of Correction, and bring him before me again to morrow Morning.
What do you mean by that,
Sir?
I go to the House of Correction! For what,
Sir?
For your Want of Manners,
Thomas.
Why Want of Manners, pray? Your Worship is not my Master now.
No,
Thomas,
I do not talk of your Sauciness to me, while I was your Master; I cou'd have taken that better, as you see I did an Hour or two ago; but as I am a Magistrate, and in the Commission of the Peace, and bear the King's Authority, I am bound to maintain it, and not see a Justice of the Peace insulted by an impudent Fellow, as you are, when he comes before him in a Way of Justice.
You can't send me to the House of Correction for any Thing I have said now.
If I do any-thing illegal, I'll answer it to the Law; but what I have done, I will stand to: Constable, do you do your Duty.
[And then Sir
Edward
went into another Room.]
As he was going into the next Room, some of the Servants spoke to
Thomas,
to beg
Sir Edward
's Pardon; you know your Master,
Thomas, said one of them,
had always a Respect for you, don't provoke him:
Damn me, Sir,
says
Thomas,
I'll ask Pardon of no Man upon Earth; what have I done to ask Pardon? I won't ask Pardon, by — and swore so loud, that his Master heard him; upon which
Sir Edward
return'd immediately into the Room; hold, Goodman
Waters, says Sir Edward,
(
meaning the Constable
) I think I heard him swear: Here,
Thomas, says he,
you must pay for swearing.
I'll pay Nothing, not I.
Well, well, you may refuse to pay indeed, but then you must sit in the Stocks,
Thomas,
you know that Law: Go, Goodman
Waters, says Sir Edward,
put him in the Stocks first a little.
Thomas
rag'd, and grumbled out a good many Oaths more, but the Justice not hearing it, that pass'd over, and
Thomas
was carried to the Stocks.
While he sat in the Stocks, all the Footmen round about, that were near enough, came to visit him, and there they sat, an Alehouse being just by, and Chairs brought out for them, and there was a Consultation of Rogues, cursing their Masters, and abusing
Esq
C—,
calling him all the Scoundrels, and Rascals, that they could think of; and here they treated
Thomas,
and on
drank to him, and another drank to him, 'till
Thomas
was so drunk, that when he had fulfill'd his Pennance, that is to say, an Hour in the Stocks, he was in no Condition to walk to the House of Correction; but if they would have him there, they must get a Cart to carry him.
The Justice, who had some Spies among them, and particularly some to take an Account of their swearing, found there was an absolute Necessity to put a stop to this new-fashion'd Behaviour of the Servants, so he sends to Goodman
Waters,
the Constable, to leave
Thomas
well guarded in the Stocks, and to come to him, which he did; and he gave him a Warrant to take some Assistance, and bring away five Fellows, whose Names he wrote down, and against whom he had taken Information for swearing; four of these five were Gentlemen's Servants in the Neighbourhood, and the fifth a Farmer's Son, one of
Sir Edward
's own Tennants in the Village: The four Servants were oblig'd to pay three, or four, or five Shillings each for swearing; and two of them, who were very ungovernable,
Sir Edward
order'd to be carried Home to their own Masters, where one of them behav'd so impudently to his Master, that he was oblig'd to send him to
Bridewell
too, and he got there before
Thomas;
the other had his Livery stript off his Back by his Master, and he came back, hallowing thro' the Town, to the Place where they all were, and got as drunk as
Thomas;
but some of the Neighbours kindly got him to Bed out of the Way, or else he had been set in the Stocks too.
All this made a great Hubbub in the Town, and two or three honest Men, Inhabitants of the Place, came to
Sir Edward,
and begg'd for
Thomas,
that he might not go to the House of Correction that Night; offering that they would be Security for him, that he should come, and beg Pardon for his Behaviour the next Morning: But
Sir Edward
was positive that he should go, only, whereas his Order was in his
Mittimus,
that he should have the Correction of the House that Night, he sent a Note to the Keeper of the Prison, that he should defer that Part 'till the next Day, and order'd the Neighbours, who had interceeded with him, to come to him in the Morning.
Next Morning
Thomas
was not quite so outragious as he was over-night; but he would not submit to come and beg Pardon, 'till he saw a fresh Order from
Sir Edward,
and three Justices more, intimating, That he should not be corrected in the House, but should be carried to the Whipping-Post in the Town, and should be publickly lash'd there, unless he submitted himself before such a Time; this, and the Importunity of his Friends, humbled him a little; and indeed it was but a little, for Matters did not end here.
While this was doing, and before
Thomas
had his Liberty, and well it was for him that he had not his Liberty at that time; I say, while this was doing, a Gang of about fourteen or fifteen of the Gentlemen's Servants, and young Fellows in the Neighbourhood, swearing to one another that they would be secret, disguis'd themselves; and going to Mr.
C—
's, the Gentleman who had bastinado'd his Man
Edward,
resolv'd to insult him if they could come at him: The first Thing they did, they met with his Park-keeper, but he a stout Fellow, and as it happen'd, having a long Keeper's Staff in his Hand, arm'd at both Ends, was aware of them: Indeed, the Park-keeper seeing them disguis'd, for their Faces were smear'd over with Soot and Grease; some of them had great Whiskers made upon their Lips, others had false Beards, and the like, I say he took them for
Deer-stealers,
come to rob his Master's Park, and talking with them at a Distance, would not let one of them come in with him: At length, one of them, running in to him, by main Force had collar'd him, but was immediately fasten'd upon by the Keeper's Dog, which made him quit the Keeper; but to deliver him, another came up, and the Keeper, to rescue his Dog, knock'd him down; however, the rest coming in, the Keeper, seeing so many, was forc'd to fly, and call'd off his Dog, who wou'd else have been kill'd.
During this Skirmish, the rest went up to the Gentleman's House, and two of them asking for
Sam,
(as they call'd him) which was the Servant, who was with his Master when
Thomas
bullied him in the Town; they told him they would speak with him, so the Fellow innocently walk'd out with them, when immediately they ask'd him, if he had not been before the Justice, and sworn to the Words that
Thomas
said? and the like; the Fellow said, yes, he did, but pleaded, that it was sore against his Will, but that his Master carried him to
Sir Edward —,
and there they made him do it between them; and begg'd heartily for his Life at first, for he believed they intended to murther him,
Well,
they told him,
they would make an Example of him to all Rogues, that should betray any Servant to be ill us'd; and upon this they dragg'd him to a Pond in the Park, where they duck'd him, and dragg'd him to-and-again in it, 'till they had almost drown'd him; then took him, and toss'd him in a Blanket; then tying his Hands behind him, and a Halter about his Neck, so ty'd that he could not untie it, with the long End hanging down behind upon his Back; in this Plight they sent him Home, and bade him tell his Master, That they would serve him just in the same Manner, the first Time they cou'd come at him; and that there was fifty of them had sworn to do it, for the sake of his Man
Edward.
They also made the Fellow swear, that he would not fail to tell his Master all they said; but that they need not have done, for poor
Sam
told his Tale as soon as ever he came Home, that his Master might not come to any Mischief.
By this Time the Keeper was come Home too, but first he had been raising the Parish, to look for
Deer-stealers;
and was got ten or twelve strong, having pick'd up a Warrener or two, and their Servants, and a Gentleman's Huntsman, and several others, enough to have given these Fellows their due, if he had met with them: But, as their Good-luck guided them, the Keeper watching for them among the Thickets, and Cover of the Park, where such People, as he took them to be, might be expected, and their Business being not among the Deer;
I say,
as their
Good-luck
guided them, the Keeper miss'd them, and came Home just as
Sam
was come in, and had told his pitiful Story.
Their Master, with two or three neighbouring Gentlemen with him, was at Home, taking a hearty Bottle (as they call it) all this while, and knew nothing of the Matter; but when the poor half-drown'd Fellow came in, the Noise was too great in the House, for the Master to be long ignorant of it; and immediately he caus'd the poor Young-man to come into the Parlour, and tell his Story to all the Gentlemen.
No sooner had he told his Tale, but the Keeper came in, and told his Story also, and the House was all in a
Hubbub;
every one got up, and the Gentleman lending his Friends Fire-Arms, and the Keeper's Men Horses, they all mounted, and went in Pursuit of them; but it was to no Purpose, for they knew well enough they should be pursued; so they made all clear off by contrary Ways, got Water, and wash'd their Faces; and dropt (one by one) to their Masters Houses; and no-body was miss'd, for they were not long about their Work, and not the least News cou'd be heard of them: But to return to
Thomas.
Thomas,
drunk, and incapable of knowing any thing of what had befallen him the Night before, wak'd (you may suppose) in the Morning, in a Kind of course Lodging, in the House of Correction, and had soon his Friends about him,
as above,
who letting him know his Circumstance, and how the Justice (his late Master) had had the Goodness to spare him the last Night at their Request; and that they had been bound for him, that he should ask him Pardon for the Rudeness of his Behaviour; they also let him know, that he was quite in the wrong to behave as he did to
Sir Edward,
who had been a good Master to him; and that he might stand in need enough of his Friendship still in the other Case, for that not
Esq
C—
only, but almost all the Gentlemen in the Country, were resolv'd to enquire fully into the Affair, and to go to the Bottom of it; for that they found they should none of them dare to reprove a Servant, or to be safe, if they gave them but an ill Word; and then they told him the Story of the Fellow's Management at
Esq
C—
's House, and assur'd him, there would very soon be a Publication from all the Bench of Justices, with a Reward of an Hundred Pound to any one (or two) of the Gang, to discover the rest.
Thomas
was prevail'd upon by all these Demonstrances, to ask his Master,
Sir Edward,
Pardon for his Rudeness the Night before; and the Neighbours had petitioned
Sir Edward
to accept it, and so
Thomas
was ordered to be brought up by the Keeper in the Afternoon.
But in the mean Time, for the searching farther into the Combination of Servants, which, it was apparent by
Thomas
's Words, was made among them, there was about five or six Gentlemen more assembled at
Sir Edward
's, all Justices of the Peace, to take this Fellow's Examination: When he was brought in, he kneel'd down very submissively to
Sir Edward,
to beg his Pardon for his Rudeness to him, and
Sir Edward
forgave him, and so the Fellow thought to have been dismiss'd: But he was thunder-strook, when he was told by one of the other Justices, in a solemn Manner,
'That tho' his Master,
Sir Edward,
had been so good as to forgive him, for what he had done to offend him, and that Part was over, yet that they were assembled there, to enquire into his abusive Carriage to such a Gentleman (naming the Person) and the rather, because he had intimated a Conspiracy, or Combination, of the other Servants, in the Country about, to join in their insulting that Gentleman; and had personaliy threatned him in his Discourse, as the Gentleman was riding thro' the Town; and they said, they must know the Meaning of these things, before they quitted him; and the rather, because this Combination had appeared to be real, by what had happen'd since.
At which they repeated what had happen'd the Night before at
Esq
C—
's House, and told him,
'He would do well, to make a timely Discovery of the Thing, if he knew any thing of it; otherwise, they must take such a Course with him, as should be judg'd proper; as well to detect the Confederacy it self, as to punish him, for his misusing a Gentleman, who had offer'd him no Injury, and was peaceably going along the King's Highway.'
Thomas
was a bold Fellow, and withal very full of Tongue; spoke much, but pretty well too, only very apt to be fancy; had liv'd with several Persons of Quality, and been Coachman to a Duke or two, and valued himself very much upon it: So, when he began his Tale, he told them,
'That he had liv'd with such and such Lords, and Dukes; and that he had driven a Coach and Six so many Years; and that he had never been us'd thus by any Master in his Life; That he was but a poor Fellow, 'twas true, and they took. Advantage of his being heated with talking of that Gentleman,
&c.
Here the Justice, that spoke before, interrupted him, and told him,
'This was all nothing to the Purpose; if he had serv'd such noble Persons, as he said, he ought to have learnt better Manners in their Service; that every Gentleman, that pays a Servant Wages, has a Right not to the Service only, but the Respect due from such Servant to him that employs him; but that however, as to his Sauciness to his Master, that was not the Question, but he was sent to Prison for his Rudeness to
Sir Edward,
not as his Master, (for he was not then his Master) but as a Magistrate; but even as a Magistrate (upon his Submission) he was forgiven; which he ought to be very thankful for; but he was question'd then upon the Information of
Esq
;
C—,
confirm'd (upon Oath) by his Servant, for insulting him on the Highway, and threat'ning him, not personally only, but also with a Combination of other Fellows against him; which had in part appear'd to be a Reality by what had happen'd, as above.
Thomas
made a long Harangue again, upon his having serv'd so many Gentlemen,
&c.
as above; but was bid let that alone, as nothing to the purpose, and speak to the Point;
he said,
he knew not what Point they meant;
they answer'd,
his insulting Mr.
C— &c. He said,
he did not understand how that lay before them; that what he had said of Mr.
C—
was true; that he had abus'd an honest Fellow, that was his Servant, in such a manner, that he thought no Servant cou'd owe him any Respect; and that all Servants were so far concern'd in that Usage, as that they cou'd not help telling him of it, whereever they met with him; and that he might thank himself, for that Servants were not hir'd to be us'd like Dogs, or to be murther'd upon every time their Master was pleas'd to be mad; and what he had said,
he believ'd,
was no more than he ought to have said, and he shou'd not be afraid to say it again; and thus he run on, a little like what he had said in Mr.
C—
's hearing, only with a little more Respect;
and added,
that it was true, that he said, he wish'd he had been in
Edward's
Place, he shou'd not have serv'd him so; and he hop'd, he might say so again.
Why, what wou'd you have done,
says one of the Justices?
Why, Sir,
says he,
before I wou'd have been beaten so like a Dog, I wou'd have defended myself: Ay,
says one of the Justices,
and have murther'd your Master, it may be, if you cou'd.
I wou'd have kill'd any Man in the World,
says he,
rather than he shou'd have kill'd me; the poor Fellow is not murther'd indeed, that is, he is not dead yet, but he may be soon; he was beaten so unmercifully, that he is in the Surgeon's Hands, and no-body knows whether he will live or die; I think 'tis time poor Servants shou'd speak, when 'tis come to this.
Well,
Thomas,
and what was all this for, pray,
says the Justice,
was there no Provocation given: No,
says Thomas,
none that requir'd such Usage; he happen'd to override one of the Hounds in their Sport, and that was not with Design neither; the Fellow lov'd the Dogs as well as his Master did, and wou'd not have done it, if he cou'd have help'd it.
Well,
Thomas,
and you think this was the Occasion of it all, do you,
says the Justice?
Think so, Sir,
says Thomas,
I know it, for I had it from his own Mouth.
Pray,
Sir Edward, says one of the Justices,
be pleas'd to let the whole Case be read at large; not for
Thomas
's Satisfaction, (for he does not deserve it) but for the Satisfaction of all the People here; for I see, half the Town are come about us, to hear the Cause, and they are all (it seems) impos'd upon as well as he: So
Sir Edward
caus'd one of his Clerks to read the Account that
Esq
C—
had given, under his Hand, of the whole Combat at large, in the manner I have given it you above.
At the reading this Story, there was a general Murmur among the People, in the Hall, where they stood to hear the Cause; one said, he was a Rogue; another, a Villain; another said, he had not half his Reward, (that is to say, meaning
Edward
) some said, they never heard such a Story in their Lives; others said, he deserv'd to be hang'd; and in short, every-body said, the Story was told quite another way, all over the Town; and that they had been abus'd in the Relation of it.
But
Thomas
cry'd out, it was all false, not a Word of it true.
The Justices bid him have a care what he said, for this was the Account the Gentleman gave himself, and that he was ready to make Oath of it; however,
they told him,
that as he had boasted, that if he was sent to Prison, he knew the Way out again, and that he cou'd get Bail;
they told him,
they thought, the least thing they cou'd do was to bind him over to the next Quarter-Sessions, and in the mean time, to require Sureties of him for his good Behaviour; and so they left him with the Keeper, to detain him 'till all this was done.
It was near a Week before
Thomas
cou'd get Security, but at last he did, and got his Liberty; but as soon as the Story came abroad, and how it had really been, all People cry'd shame of the Footmen; and the first thing to be heard of (in order to a further Discovery of Things) was, that about eight Footmen, in several Gentlemen's Families, were run away; any one might conclude they were thoroughly frighted with
Thomas
's Story; besides, when it was known, that so many were gone, it was easy to know what they were guilty of: As for
Thomas,
his Fate is not determin'd yet.
There is a great deal more in the History of this Affair, but it is not significant enough to trouble you with; you will see thro' ev'ry Part of what I have written; an Air of uncommon Insolence, upon the Conduct of Servants all the Country round, and that is the Reason of my giving you this Account: Before I dismiss this Subject, I must observe to you, That this insolent Behaviour is not among the false and thievish Servants (such we may always expect to be impudent;) but this is the Conduct of the honest Part of Servants, at least those we call honest: I cou'd give you an Account of Servants robbing, ay, and murthering their Masters, and those now more than ever; but among such, nothing is to be wonder'd at, and such are in all Nations as well as here; but I confine my self to the Point in hand, namely, the insolent, unsufferable Conduct of Servants, that is to say, of those that call themselves honest, and value themselves upon being so.
Nor is it every Servant that will fight his Master, as
Edward
did, because it is not every Servant that dares do it; but I must also add, that there is not one Servant in twenty now, that will take a Blow from a Master, but with their Tongues will insult them at that rate, that it is very hard for any Gentleman to bear it; nor do I wonder at any thing more, than that there are not ten Servants for one kill'd by their Masters, the Treatment which Masters receive from them, being now such, as indeed 'tis very hard for any Temper to submit to: I shall give you some Instances of this Kind in my next Letter.
LETTER VII.
Dear Brother,
M Y Last gave you a kind of Tragi-Comedy, between a Friend of mine and his Man
Edward;
I shall fill up my Account with some of every kind that offers.
I must acknowledge to you, that it is not the easiest thing in the World, for a Gentleman to bear the sawcy Language of a Servant, on any Account whatever; and there are some Actions of Servants, that a Master cannot but resent, and reprove them for, when they upon these just Reproofs, return impudent, ungrateful Language, and insulting Behaviour; as is the very Case I am upon: It is not every Temper that (in such provoking Cases) can restrain it self; and this has been the Occasion of sending many a Servant to the Devil, before their Time; and as killing a Servant is not in
England
so light a matter as it is in
France,
especially killing a Servant, in a Passion, or in drink; so some Gentlemen, who have had the Misfortune to push their Resentments a little farther than they ought, have been put to great Distresses, and some have been quite ruin'd on that Account; and this brings to my Mind a Story, which also happen'd within the Reach of my own Knowledge.
There happen'd, in a Country Town, within about Eleven Miles of
London,
a very odd Passage of a Servant and a Master, which ended more tragical than that in my Last: The Gentleman was a Colonel in the
Militia,
and of a very good Estate, and had only two Daughters; his eldest Daughter, a fine beautiful Lady, and very well bred, was said to be in Love with some-body, but it cou'd never be found out who it was with: She was so unsuspected by her Father (as to her Vertue) that there was no need to keep any Watch over her: She often took the Coach (or the Chariot) with her Sister, to go to
London,
or any where else, and sometimes without her, but always came home in good time; and if her Father ask'd her, at any time, where she had been been, she wou'd say, she only took a turn out upon the Forrest, or upon such a Heath, or such a Way, for the Air; which was an Answer satisfying enough; and sometimes (without the least Suspicion in his Head) he wou'd ask the Coachman, which Way he drove, or how far? And he wou'd give him the like Answer.
This pass'd for a great while, 'till it was observ'd at last, that she took the Chariot out (for airing) without her Sister, or any-body else with her, oftner than usual; and her Father, who had heard a Rumour, that his Daughter had an Amour with some-body, began to suspect; upon this Suspicion (one Evening) he examin'd the Coachman, in a friendly obliging manner, whether any-body met his Daughter upon those Airings and Ridings out? The Fellow, with a sawcy Fleer at him, said,
No,
and laugh'd; this mov'd him a little, and he call'd him sawcy Fellow, or something to that purpose; Why, Sir, do you think,
says the Coachman,
that if my young Mistress had any Love-Intrigue with any-body, and trusted me to carry her, I wou'd betray her, and tell you of it?
Very well, Sir,
says the Colonel,
then you may say, you will be faithful to my Daughter, but you cou'd not boast of much Honesty to your Master; 'tis no matter for that, Sir,
says be,
I never betray my Trust; yes, Sir,
says the Colonel,
you do in that very thing, for as you are my Servant, when you carry her abroad, 'tis I trust my Daughter in your Hands: I think nothing of that,
says the Fellow,
'tis the Lady trusts me with herself, and that's more than you trust me with.
Well, well, if that be your Principle,
says the Colonel,
then I shall trust you no more with her, and you shall carry her out no more: However, it happen'd, that about a Week after, or thereabout, the young Lady call'd her Coachman (her Father being from home) and rode out as usual; the Colonel, coming home, while they were abroad, and hearing of it, never lighted off his Horse, but rode about, to see if he cou'd meet her any where, and discover any thing.
It was his Misfortune to ride round and round the Country, a great way, but not to meet with them; but being just come back, so near, as that he was within sight of his own Door,
if it had been Day-light,
he heard the Coach stop just before him; upon this, he stop'd, and got off of his Horse, and hanging his Bridle to another Door, stept forward on the other side (it being very dark) believing he shou'd see some Spark or other come home with his Daughter, to bring her to the Door; and he was the more confirm'd in his Expectation, when he saw the Coach stop a little short of the Door.
But judge what Rage, what Horror must take hold of his Soul, when he saw the Coachman (after opening the Coach-Door to his Daughter) take her out of the Coach in his Arms, and holding her in his Arms a good while, kiss her several times, and she (on the other-hand) throwing one of her Arms about his Neck, give him leave to do it, as long as he wou'd.
Blame not the Gentleman, if he had not Patience enough to restrain his Passion, at this killing Sight; but, he run in upon them,
Unhand her, Villain!
said he to the Coachman,
or I'll this Minute send you to the Devil:
The Fellow (surpriz'd you may suppose) set her down, but gave his Master the most impudent Language imaginable; and which the Gentleman not able to take, gave him a large Cut over the Face, with his Sword; I'll mark thee now,
says he,
for a Dog, that I may know thee again to morrow.
The Fellow cry'd Murther at first, but immediately flying back, gave his Master two or three Lashes, with his Whip, and was coming at him (in a Rage) with the thick End of it, when, the frighted Lady having rung the Bell, other Servants came, and open'd the Door, and the Master stept in, which put an End to the Fray for that time.
Then the Gentleman came to the Door again, and pull'd in his Daughter;
Come, Mistress,
says he,
Come you in, I'll take care of you, whatever I do with him:
The Lady was terribly frighted to be sure; however, the Fellow drove the Coach round into the Stable-Yard, and having put up the Horses, sent one of the Servants in, to tell his Master, he desir'd he might send for a Surgeon; his Master sent Word, he might go to a Surgeon's, if he wou'd, for he shou'd sleep no more in his House: He sent Word again, very sawcily, he wou'd not stir in that Condition, and at that time of Night, but that in the Morning he wou'd let him know more of his Mind.
However, the Gentleman was perswaded to let him stay that Night, his Lodging-Room being over the Coach-House, and so not within the Dwelling-House, and locking up his Daughter in her Chamber, he sat up himself, to see that no Mischief might happen: In the dead of the Night, he heard some Noise in the Yard, and putting himself in a Posture to hear as much as he cou'd of it, and not to be discover'd, he heard his Daughter calling out, at a little Window, to the Coachman, to ask him how he did; and telling him, she wou'd find some way or other to come out, the next Day, to him, for all this, with some other little Tendernesses between them; which, however, serv'd to inform him how Things were: He restrain'd his Passion, and did not discover himself at all, but took care of her Chamber-Door, and that she shou'd not get out of the Window.
The next Morning he call'd his Coachman to him, paid him his Wages, and dismiss'd him: The Coachman said nothing to him, but look'd and behav'd surlily, 'till he was paid, and was going away, as he thought, when he turn'd short upon him, and told him saucily, He hop'd he wou'd give him some Satisfaction for cutting him on the Face;
his Master answer'd,
He ought to be thankful to him, he had not cut his Throat.
For what,
says the Coachman?
For your Impudence,
says the Master.
The Coachman said something very rude, upon that, about his Daughter; intimating, that tho' he was but a poor Servant now, yet he was a Gentleman born, and of as good a Family as he (meaning his Master) and 'twas no Dishonour to his Daughter to engage with him; for, Sir,
says he,
I have as good Blood in my Veins as yourself, with some other Language, which the Colonel cou'd not bear; upon which, he took his Sword in his Hand, which lay on the Table, and opening the Door, said (with a little Smile) Then, Sir, if you don't immediatly get out of my House, I'll let some of your Gentlemanly Blood out for you, and that presently too.
Sir,
says the Coachman,
I am none of your Servant,
now,
but as good a Man as your self: This provok'd the Colonel farther, and he rose up (tho' in his Gown and Slippers) and thrust the Villain out of his Door, and kick'd him down the Steps.
When the Fellow was out, he fac'd him again; Sir,
says he,
go tell your Daughter, you owe your Life to Her, and were it not for her sake, I'd trample you under my Feet this Moment.
The Colonel was not a Match for the Brute, perhaps, at his Fist (tho' in Courage infinitely superior) but flies into his Parlour for his Sword, and comes instantly out to him again, but he was gone a little way from the Door; he call'd after him,
but he answer'd,
he wou'd go but a little way farther, and wait on him again,
by and by.
About two Hours after, the Fellow comes again, dress'd up very genteely, and a Sword by his side, and two Fellows with him.
When his Master saw them, he call'd one of his Servants, and bade him go to the Stable, and fetch him two Pitchforks,
for,
says he,
I'll deal with this Dog in his own way;
accordingly the Servant brought them, and he bade him, and his Fellow-Servant, keep in the next Room with them, and not shew themselves, unless he call'd them.
When this was done, he bade a Maid-Servant go, and desire the two Men, that were with the Coachman, to walk in, and bid the Coachman stay without.
When they were come in, he treated them very courteously, and ask'd them,
if they had any particular Business with him?
They answer'd, very civily too, that their Business was only this; that
William,
his Coachman, had desir'd them to come with him; that he had been wounded by him, the Evening before, in his Passion; and that he was afraid, he might be in Danger again; and that he desir'd them to come with him, to prevent any Mischief.
Pray, Gentlemen,
says the Colonel,
did he acquaint you with the Reason of my being so provok'd? They answer'd,
No; only that he had said, it was without any Provocation at all.
It's the only obliging thing,
says the Colonel,
that
William
cou'd do; but depend upon it, Gentlemen, I cou'd never be guilty of using a Servant so hardly, as cutting him over the Face, if I had not had the greatest Provocation in the World.
As to that,
they said,
they knew nothing of it, and if they had, they wou'd not have appear'd in it, for they wou'd not countenance any Servant in abusing his Master.
Well but, Pray, Gentlemen,
says he,
what need is there to bring you to guard him, now he is out of my Service, and has no Business with me? If he does not come in my Reach, I can do him no Hurt, and my best Advice to him is, to keep out of my way.
But, Sir,
says one of the Men,
he says, his Business now was to see, what Satisfaction you will give him, for wounding him.
Says the Colonel,
my Answer to that is plain; what the Law will give him, I'll submit to, I shall give him no more Satisfaction; I suppose, he does not come to to challenge me; if he thinks, he has not merited much more than I gave him, I leave him to take any Course he pleases: Pray, what Satisfaction does he demand,
says the Colonel,
have you any thing to offer in his Name? I am ready to answer, as becomes me, in any Case,
says he;
and if he had been a Gentleman, and indeed any thing but my own Servant, I knew what Answer to make.
N.B.
Here the Colonel began to imagine a
Challenge;
but they had not any Instructions,
they said,
not foreseeing they shou'd speak with him first, or alone.
Well then, Gentlemen,
says he,
tell him from me, I have no Business with him, and I think he has none with me; if he keeps away from my House, he has nothing to fear from me, and so
needs no Guard;
and with this he dismiss'd them.
When they were gone, he perceiv'd, that when they came to the Door where the Coachman waited, and gave an Account to him of the Discourse they had with his Master, he appear'd
very uneasie;
that he came from them twice (in a Kind of a Passion) towards the Door, but that they call'd him back again: But, however, he came on the third time; and the Colonel observ'd, that when he came from them,
the third time,
they shook their Heads, and went away, as if they had said,
If you will go, we will have nothing to do with you:
However, he came to the Gate, and knock'd (or rung) very hard; the Colonel, who had seen him, order'd his Servants not to open the Gate, but let him knock (or ring) awhile; at length, He order'd one of his Men, to go out at the Back-door, and come round, and stand in a Place in the Yard, which was on one side of the House, where he might speak to him out at Window, and where the Fellow at the Gate might see him too.
When the Servant was come to the Place, his Master call'd to him aloud,
John,
what does
that Fellow
want, that rings at the Gate there?
John answer'd,
'tis
William,
Sir.
Well,
says his Master,
I know that, what wou'd he have?
The Coachman answer'd,
I wou'd speak with you, Sir:
The Colonel answer'd nothing to him; upon which,
John,
the Servant, said,
He says he wou'd speak with you, Sir,
Tell him,
says his Master,
I have nothing to say to him, bid him go about his Business.
Well,
William
wou'd not stir, but call'd to his Master aloud,
Tho' you have nothing to say to me, you may bear what I have to say to you: I tell thee, FELLOW,
says the Colonel,
I have no Business with thee, and will have none with thee.
Then he desir'd he might be admitted to speak with his Daughter; that he rejected with Indignation, and in some harsh Terms: Why,
says William,
I desire but to speak with her at the Window, and in your Hearing; I am not asham'd you shou'd hear what I have to say to her.
But she ought to be asham'd to speak to you,
says the Colonel,
or hear you speak to her, and much more that I shou'd hear it: Besides, I have remov'd her out of your Reach, so you may go about your Business.
Remove her where you will,
says William,
I will speak with her, do your worst, and have her too, if you ha'n't murther'd her.
How it came to pass, that the Daughter got so much Liberty, he cou'd not tell; but, in the middle of all this Discourse, she got to a Window, on the Side of the House, and call'd aloud to
William,
and giving the Lye to her Father,
as it were,
told him, she was not remov'd, nor wou'd not be remov'd; but she wou'd find a Way quickly to come out,
or to that Effect;
and
William
answer'd her in such Terms, as made her Father fear they were married.
This was very provoking to her Father (you may be sure) to have his Daughter give him the
LYE,
in that manner as she did; and extorted some rash Words from him to the Fellow, and he (as much inflam'd) return'd him very scurrilous Language, in so many Words, and bade him,
Come out into the Yard, if he was not afraid to shew his Face to an honest Man.
The Colonel, a Man of Spirit, ran to his Closet, took a Fusee in his Hand, that was loaded with a Brace of Bullets, which he always kept so loaded, in case of Thieves, and boldly open'd the Door; but the Fellow, who was without the Gate, seeing the Gun in his Hand, upbraided him with Cowardice, in bringing out Fire-Arms to a naked Man; but moving off, desir'd him to have Patience, and he wou'd wait upon him again, in a Condition fit to talk with him, notwithstanding his Gun; so in a Quarter of an Hour, he return'd with a Fusee in his Hand also.
But by this time, the Neighbours, alarm'd by some of the Colonel's Servants, interpos'd, and the Fray was ended for that time, without Mischeif: It is not material to the present Purpose, how the Gentleman and his Daughter manag'd; he wou'd have sent her into the Country, but the Girl wou'd not go; he knew not well where to put her, but that, if she had a Mind to be miserable, and take the Fellow, she might find Means to do it; so he thought it fafest to keep her in his own House, where he thought his Anthority might prevent her Designs, and his Reasoning might (in time) prevail with her, to alter her Mind.
But about five Days after, the Fellow having found Means, by flashing of Gun Powder, and other Tokens agreed between them, to let her know, that he was ready, and she having found Means to give him notice of her Resolution, she let herself down from the third Story, in the Night, and he, with two more, stood ready to carry her off, at the Bottom.
She was safe at the Bottom, and had just set her Foot upon the Ground, when the Colonel hearing, or suspecting some Noise, started up, run to the Window with his Gun in his Hand, and having just Light enough to see his Daughter putting herself into the Arms of his Coachman, shot him dead upon the Spot.
The Lady, frighted almost to Death, fell flat upon the Ground, and the Father believing he had kill'd his own Daughter, was for a-while in a dreadful Agony, and run out to bring her in, but was better satisfied, when he found she was only frighted: It cost the poor Gentleman a great-deal of Trouble and Affliction afterwards, and in a manner ruin'd the Family; for the Laws here are very nice in such Cases, where there appear'd a former Quarrel: But all this had its Beginning in the Insolence of the Servant; and so far is to the purpose I am writing about, the rest of the Story being too long to trouble you with now.
N.B.
You may note that on the Tryal it was effectually prov'd,
1. That at one a-Clock in the Morning (or thereabouts) three Men were seen in his Yard.
2. That he saw them carrying off his Daughter;
which was necessarily construed to be a Robbery.
3. But suppose not, it was allow'd to be an unseasonable Time of Night, and that the Gentleman not going out of his House, had a Right to defend his House, which he had Reason to believe was in Danger to be robb'd.
4. That he call'd out several times,
Who's there;
but was answer'd by one of them (not the Coachman)
No-body;
at which he gave notice that he wou'd fire, and bade them stand off at their Peril:
All which Particulars were, it seems, effectually prov'd in his Favour.
However, it was very unhappy to the Father, and afflicted him all his Days, to the last Degree; for the Blood of a Man (tho' a Villain in what he did) is very grievous, to a Mind sensible of the World, and of the Nature of killing a Fellow-Creature, however faulty.
This Story I tell you in Confirmation of what I have said, namely, That the Provocations, given by Servants in this Country, are such, that 'tis next to impossible, that any Gentleman shou'd bear them; and were it so in
France,
I believe you will be of my Opinion, that there wou'd be 500 Footmen in a Year, sent into another World by their Masters own Hands; and I must add my Opinion too in the other Part,
namely,
That it is because Masters in
France
will not bear such Usage from their Servants, that Servants in
France
behave after another manner.
I remember, when the Insolence of Servants in
France
caus'd that happy Edict of our late Great Monarch, That no Servants, that is to say, no Footmen, or as we call 'em, Valets shou'd wear Swords: But even this was occasion'd by their Rudeness to other People, and sometimes to one another; but it was scarce ever heard in
France,
that a Footman behav'd otherwise to his Master, than with the most profound Submission; or that if they did, they always met with the severest Correction.
The very Name of
Footman
intimates, That they are bred at the Foot of their Master; their Business is to clean his Shoes, and to be always ready at his Foot, that is to say, for the most servile Employment; their Post is to go or ride behind, and they ought not to come into the Master's Presence, but with Hat in Hand, bare-headed, and with all the Tokens of an entire Submission: This ever was the Usage, and is still in our Country, and ought to be in every Country: But I can assure you, the Case is quite alter'd in
England,
and tho' the Carriage of a Footman is seemingly submissive, their real Behaviour is quite another thing than it was.
They are now drunken, sawcy, unmannerly, negligent; not only above Correction, but even above Reproof; I shall tell you afterwards what causes it; I am now upon the Fact, and letting you know that it really is so.
A Gentleman of my particular Acquaintance, having Occasion to be in
Scotland,
thought it a good Place to get a Servant in, his
English
Servant, that he carried down with him, was not able,
as he said,
to live as Servants liv'd in
Scotland,
and so he desir'd to be dismiss'd, which was granted; he had after that a Fellow recommended to him, that had a great Desire to serve an
English
Gentleman, for he had heard much what good Masters they were, and how well they us'd their Setvants; upon this the Gentleman sent for him.
The Fellow seem'd to have the Face of a good Servant, far from being unacquainted with the lowest Submission; and when they talk'd of going to
England,
he told my Friend, That if his Honour pleas'd to carry him to
England,
he wou'd run at his Horse Foot all the Way, for he shou'd not need to buy a Horse for him: Now my Friend thought indeed that he had been fitted; he had Occasion to travel some short Journeys, while he remain'd there, being employ'd in publick Business, and his new Man was the most tendible Servant, that ever Gentleman cou'd desire.
The Master generous, like an
English
Gentleman, and kind, cou'd not bear to see the poor Fellow run on Foot, up Hill and down-Hill, over the Mountains, thro' the Rivers, in the coldest Weather as well as in the hottest, while his other Servants had Horses always to ride on; so (without his Man's Sollicitation) he furnish'd himself with another Horse, for his new Valet, and mighty thankful the Fellow was.
The Gentlemen, among whom my Friend convers'd, and to whom
Harry
(that was his Name) was frequently sent of Errands, and on Business of great Consequence, shew'd their Respect for his Master, by being very bountiful to his Servant; so that
Harry
began to feel Money ring in his Pocket, which had never been his Case before.
The first Consequence of this was, that
Harry
threw away his Bonnet, which was all the Covering his Brains had ever known in
Aberdeenshire
(from thence he came,) and bought himself a good Castor
English
Hat.
His Master had promis'd him his Livery, when he came to
England,
but was not willing to have it made there, for many Reasons; but having Occasion to stay some Months longer in
Scotland
than he expected,
Harry
found Ways and Means, by the same Bounty of the
Scots
Gentlemen, to buy an old (or second-hand) black Coat, which, his Master being at that Time in Mourning, was suitable enough, and
Harry
began to call himself his Master's Gentleman.
It was not long, before his Master had Occasion to send
Harry
from
Edinburgh
to
Queen's-Ferry,
upon Business of Consequence; and his Horses and other Servants, being gone to
Glasgow,
on some other Occasion,
Harry
was oblig'd to go on Foot, at which he shew'd a visible Reluctance; at length, when his Master told him it must be so, he said,
loud enough to be heard,
it was a little over-far to gang on his Foot.
Well, his Master took no Notice of it, at that time, but
Harry
went the long Journey, and came back the same Day; but at Night, when his Master wanted
Harry
for some Business (I know not what) truly he was gone to his Bed; and the next Morning his Master had two or three little Rubbs of his great Weariness; upon which, a Day or two after, he call'd his Man
Harry,
and, with good Humour in his Face, ask'd him, if his Weariness was over?
Harry
said, Yes, but that indeed it was a hard Journey: Why,
Harry, said his Master,
did not you offer to run at my Horse-Foot to
England,
when I hir'd you.
Harry
wou'd sain have forgot, that he had said so; but his Master reminded him of the Particulars in so plain a manner, that he cou'd not deny it; but he came off with saying, He was always willing to serve his Honour,
so all Servants call their Masters there,
but he found he was willinger than able.
No, no,
Harry, said his Master,
not less able, but a little less humble (I doubt) than you were; you and I must talk about that,
Harry;
pray get you another Master: Yes, Sir,
says Harry, without any Hesitation,
and away he went.
However,
Harry
bethought himself, and made Friends to be continued in his Service, and that he might go to
England,
for that was all he desir'd it seems, when he came first; upon this Submission
Harry
was receiv'd again into Favour, and came to
England
with his Master; when he had been in
England
a little while, he grew like the
English
Servants, sawcy and proud; but with this Addition to it, that he did not like the Wages his Master gave him, but he understood, that other Servants in
England
got more Wages than he did, and he wanted more Wages: Well, his Master, being willing to have kept the Fellow, consented to give him 40
s.
a Year more Wages, than he had agreed with him for before.
It happen'd, that
Harry
did something wrong, that his Master had set him about, and it being something of Business, which being wrong done, was some Disappointment to his Master; he was a little angry, and took
Harry
up short, but gave him not one hard Name, or any thing of that Kind;
Harry
told him impudently, He did not understand such Language, that he had not been us'd to be so talk'd to, in that manner; and a great many Words he made of it.
Some time after,
Harry
took Occasion to let fall some insolent Words among the Servants, as that he wou'd not be talk'd to by any Master in
Britain;
that his Relations were Men of honourable Families, and he was a Gentleman, tho' he serv'd his Master so-and-so.
His Master heard of this, but took no notice of it; but, some time after,
Harry
had done another Fault, and it was a Fault, that indeed in a Servant is intollerable; that when some Gentlemen had been to speak with his Master, who was abroad, and had left Word with
Harry,
that they had been there, and told their Names,
Harry
took no care to let his Master know any thing of it.
When his Master came to hear of it, he was very much provok'd, as indeed he had Reason, and calling up his Man, he examin'd him, if such Gentlemen had not been there, at such a time?
Harry
own'd they had been there, and left their Names too: Well,
says his Master,
and what was the Reason that you did not give me an Account of it, when I came home:
Harry
answer'd first, that he thought he had told him:
His Master alledg'd,
That cou'd not be, for then he shou'd not have forgot to own it to the Gentlemen, that Business being of Consequence to himself: Then
Harry
wou'd have said he forgot it; this made his Master doubly angry: Why, then, did you not,
says his Master,
set it down in the Book? It seems, his Master had given him a Minute-Book, and Pen and Ink, on purpose to set down such Business as might happen in his Absence.
Truly,
Harry,
being driven to the Necessity of owning a Fault, which if he had done, there had been an End of it, grew sawcy, and after grumbling and muttering to himself a-while, and his Master asking what he said,
he told him, in so many Words,
that truly he did not give himself much Trouble to remember such Things.
What do you mean by that, Sir,
say his Master?
Is it not my Business? Are you a Servant, or are you not?
Harry replied,
tho' he was a Servant, he was not to be talk'd in that manner to, as he had been, and he shou'd not trouble himself with Men's Business, that us'd him so.
Blame him not, if the Gentleman was in some Passion at this; but he turn'd short upon him with a Smile; What,
Harry,
do you bear Malice? 'Tis above a Month since I spoke to your Worship in the manner you talk of, and I am sure you deserv'd it; and if any had Occasion to remember it, I shou'd, for you were impudent enough, and do you pretend to bear it in Mind now?
Yes,
he said,
he did, and he wou'd never forgive any Man, that shou'd talk to him in that manner:
Why then,
says his Master,
I am sorry I had not can'd you then, and kick'd you out of Doors, for a Rascal, as you deserv'd; then you had had something to remember, and bear Malice for.
Harry
had not much to say then, but still kept grumbling; at length says his Master, It seems, I had disoblig'd you before,
Harry,
and so you neglected my Business now on purpose to be even with me, was that the Case? Indeed,
says Harry,
something of that Kind, for I do not understand such Treatment as this: With that, his Master had indeed no more Patience, but flew at him, and giving him a good Kick on the Backside, took up his Cane to have broke his Head, being provok'd at his Ingratitude;
You ungrateful Dog,
says he, did I take you to run at my Horse Foot, and can you talk thus to me; and with that, I say, flew to his Cane.
But
Harry
was as nimble as he, and tho' he was as sawcy as
Edward,
yet he had not
Edward
's Courage, but fled out of Doors, and walk'd off for that Night, and staid two or three Days, 'till he thought his Master's Passion was over, and then he came again, and sent in another of the Servants, to tell his Master, he was come to ask his Pardon.
His Master was easy enough to forgive him, but order'd his Clerk to pay him his Wages, and dismiss him, which was done; but there was another thing still at the End of
Harry
's Submission, and that was, he did not design coming back to his Duty, and Service, for the Time was not up that he was hir'd for, but he was told by his Country-men, that he might have more Wages; and he studied to disoblige his Master, that he might be turn'd off; but still he wanted a Certificate, this is what we call (in
France
) a Testimonial of Fidelity and good Behaviour.
His Master told him,
Ay, he wou'd give him a Certificate, such as he deserv'd: Why, Sir,
says Harry, in his Country Tone,
Have I not been honest and just? Yes,
says his Master,
but thou hast been sawcy and impudent too: Well but, Sir,
says Harry,
and you'll certify to my Honesty; you have forgiven me the rest; please to certify the first Part.
Nay,
says his Master,
tho' I have forgigiven your Behaviour,
Harry,
I cannot certify, that you did not misbehave: E'en certify what you like, Sir,
says Harry,
and was very humble; for
Harry
found, that he cou'd not get a Place, without a Certificate; and his Master perceiv'd it, and was willing to humble him, so he wrote a Certificate thus,
I — — do hereby certify, That
Harry D—,
the Bearer, serv'd me three Quarters of a Year, having been hir'd for a Year; that he was honest in what Matters of Trust I committed to him, but dismiss'd by me for his insolent Behaviour, and sawcy Language. Witness my Hand, the 10th Day of
August,
1707.
Harry
heard the Contents of this with a staring Countenance, and an inexpressible Surprize (for his Master read it to him) and when he had done, only said,
Is that the Certificate you will please to give me?
And without waiting for an Answer, turn'd his Back, and went off: However,
Harry,
like a true Villain, that cou'd fawn 'till his Purpose was serv'd, and be impudent again when it was serv'd; I say,
Harry
made Friends to the Gentleman's Lady, and she interceeded for him to his Master; and considering it might be the poor Fellow's Ruin, at last he gave him a Certificate.
It was some time after this, that
Harry
being dress'd mighty fine, comes to the Gentleman's House, and his Master being not at home, sent in his Name to his Lady: The Lady was some-how or other engag'd, but bade one of the Servants tell him, his Master was not at home; she cou'd not imagine indeed, the Gentleman had any Business with her, unless it had been to thank her for her Intercession; but she order'd the Servants, to have him into the Kitchin, and make him eat and drink; so he went away; but about three or four Days after, sends a sawcy impudent Letter to the Lady herself, full of foolish (but rude) Language, because she was pleas'd to order her Servants to entertain him, but did not wait upon him herself.
The same Gentleman, I mention'd above, had the Exercise of several such Servants as these, and some worse; one of the principal Reasons, that I can assign for it, was, that if the general Character of the Gentleman was just, he was only the kindest, and most considering Master imaginable to his Servants; always compassionate of them, easy with them, doing good to them, making their Lives easy, and their Service pleasant.
But I must now give you an Example, where this Evil has prov'd tragical, both to Master and Servant; for as I hinted before, that the Provocations, given by Servants, are unsufferable, and that it is not always easy for Gentlemen, to govern their Passions in such Cases; so you may reasonably suppose, that all Gentlemen have not the same Government of themselves; Men are not equally patient, nor equally Philosophers; and some Examples may be given, where this insolent Behaviour of Servants has provok'd Masters beyond their Patience.
There was a Country Gentleman of a very good Estate, but being a single Man, (so they call Men here, that are not married) and having no Family, he liv'd privately, and only kept two Servants; one was a Groom, the other a kind of Gentleman to him, that is to say, one that always attended his Master, dress'd him, and travell'd with him, and at other times was a kind of Steward to him, did Business for him, Receiv'd his Rents, paid Money for him, and was trusted by him to a very considerable Degree; and as he had always appear'd to be very honest, and his Master none of the best Managers, he rather too much depended upon this Servant, and seldom took any regular Account of his Behaviour, but left all to him.
Time and good Usage had the usual Effect upon this Servant,
that is to say,
that as the Custom of most Servants is in this Country, that they soon get out of the Knowledge of themselves, they take all the Kindness of their Masters to be not a Favour, but a Debt to their extraordinary Merit; this Fancy of extraordinary Merit swells them with extraordinary Pride; and from that Time they neither know how to behave to Fellow-Servants, or to Masters themselves: So it was here; and first this Fellow began to mend his Figure, get a long Wig, ride with a Sword, wear a Watch in his Pocket, and the like: In consequence of this, he look'd upon himself to be above the Rank of an ordinary Servant, and at length, by his particular Interest with his Master, obtain'd to throw off his Livery, and dress as a Gentleman.
From one Step to another, Pride knows no Bounds, first he learnt to insult over his Fellow Servant, and in a little time more began to bristle up, even to his Master himself; and that in Spight of innumerable Favours, Benefactions, and Civilities; which he had receiv'd from a Gentleman, who, however he was warm and passionate in extraordinary Cases, was yet to him the best-humour'd Gentleman living.
His Master, who had shew'd him by a thousand Tokens, that he had an extraordinary Respect for him, cou'd not yet bear to have him grow upon him, and was very nice in taking notice of it, did many Ways check, and take him short in the Beginning of his new Behaviour, and sometimes talk'd roundly to him about it; but it was all-one, he grew the more pert, and short with his Master, 'till in Time, the Evil growing upon him, and he became down-right sawcy on many Occasions.
I cannot but observe here, for the Caution of all Gentlemen, on the like Occasions, that they shou'd (if possible) avoid such common catch-word Sayings, as have any thing ominous in them upon themselves: This Gentleman, in reproving his Steward,
as I may call him,
us'd this extraordinary Expression, almost upon all Occasions, Prithee
Humphry,
don't be sawcy; I can't bear your insolent Tongue;
I'll kill you,
you Dog, if you talk so to me, I tell you,
I'll kill you;
this he often said in Jest, after he had us'd it pretty much; if he sent him for Money to his Tennants, he wou'd add jestingly, Go, and get me some Money,
I'll kill you,
you Dog, if you don't bring me some Money; and the like, upon many other Occasions.
Among the rest of this unhappy Gentletleman's Misfortunes, this was one,
viz.
That he drank very hard, and sometimes this impudent Fellow wou'd take upon him to reprove his Master for it, and that not in a modest way, as a cautioning him of the Mischief of it, which he had good Humour enough to have taken very kindly; but he wou'd laugh at him, ridicule, and expose his Master, rather than modestly cover his Infirmity; and upon his Master's being acquainted with this, one time, after he had been a little in Drink, he calls his Man to him, and upbraided him with it; but he gave him sawcy Language, which was the Occasion of the first Breach between them, for his Master told him in few Words, he did not deserve the Favours he had shewn him, and so in short, turn'd him off.
However, in a few Days, the Fellow began to be sensible of his Loss, and went to his Master, ask'd him Pardon, and was, with an Abundance of good Nature, receiv'd into his Place again, and in as much Favour as ever.
By that time he had been in Place again, long enough to forget the Favour, and to forget the Sense he had had of it before, he became just as sawcy and insolent as he was before.
It happen'd, one Night, that his Master stay'd out very late, and his Gentleman sitting up for him, was very finely gotten fast asleep, in his Master's Parlour, and in his easy Chair, by the Fire: About four a-Clock in the Morning, his Master rung at the Door; and the Groom, or Footman, comes running into the Parlour, to call the Steward, believing he might be asleep; and he was indeed so dead asleep, that he cou'd not be presently wak'd; so that while the Footman was waking him, his Master was at his Heels, and was come into the Parlour himself: The Dialogue between the Groom and the Steward was very short, but being much to the Purpose, 'tis very needful to give you the Particulars of it,
as follows.
Mr.
Humphry,
Mr.
Humphry,
my Master's come.
Ha, what?
And then
Humphry
snor'd again.
Nay, Mr.
Humphry,
wake; I tell you my Master's come.
[Pulls him.]
What? Ha! Come! Who's come? What?
And snores again.
Why, my Master's come, Mr.
Humphry;
he'll be here this Minure; get up, I say.
[Pulls him almost out of the Chair, and almost wakes him.]
O, O, Is he come? Is the old Dog come then? D— him, 'tis very well indeed; a fine Time of Night, D— him; a fine Time, truly: I suppose, the old Rogue is drunk enough; pray, who brought him home?
All the while the Sot said this last Part, his Master stood, and heard every Word of it, for he was come in within the Parlour-Door; so when he had done, his Master began: O, Mr.
Humphry, says he,
what, are you got drunk before me to Night? And spoke it merrily enough; for it happen'd, to Mr.
Humphry
's Misfortune, that his Master was not drunk that Night; or at most, not so drunk as he usually was, so that he had Temper enough to manage his Gentleman Mr.
Humphry,
pretty well; for he caus'd him to give up all his Trusts and Books, which he usually kept, that very Night, and turn'd him out of Doors the next Morning.
Mr.
Humphry
wou'd fain have staid next Morning, and gave his Master very good Words; but it wou'd not do; his Master was warmer then, by a great deal, than he was over-night: No, no,
Humphry, says he,
you and I must part; I can't bear such as this;
adding,
I shall certainly
kill you,
one time or other, if you stay, therefore get you gone, I say, or I am sure I shall
kill you:
So Mr.
Humphry
was oblig'd to pack up, and be gone.
Well, notwithstanding all this abominable Treatment, Mr.
Humphry,
upon an Acknowledgment of his Fault, and the Intercession of some Friends, which he got to speak to his Master in his Favour, was taken in again a third time, about half a Year after, and was re-instated in the same Place as before.
He had, upon his Application to his Master to be restor'd, humbled himself very much, acknowledg'd that he was in Drink, and knew not what he said; and asking Pardon, had assur'd his Master of his future good Behaviour, and for some time he was a tollerable good Servant.
But there is no changing of Nature: Mr.
Humphry
soon forgot the
Easy Chair,
and the Story of calling his Master hard Names, as above; and grew just the same individual
Mr. Humphry
as he was before; and in particular, as sawcy to his Master, upon several Occasions: It happen'd one Night, that his Master got so very drunk, at a neighbouring Gentleman's House, that he cou'd not get home, but as he was riding homewards, fell off from his Horse; but it being in a Country Village where he was known, the People at an Inn, took him up, and sent to his House, for his Servants to come and fetch him.
He kept no Coach, nor he cou'd not fit on Horse-back; so his two Men thought themselves oblig'd to carry him home in a Chair (it being near two Miles off) and that, not a Chair (as we call it) such as ply in the Streets of
London,
but a meet plain Country Chair; when they were just coming out of the Inn, comes up Mr.
Humphry,
and he falls upon his Master, with a thousand insolent Reproaches; calling him
Drunken old Rogue,
and the like; and in a Word, made the two Men set him down, and get a Cart to carry him home in.
Every-body cry'd out against Mr.
Humphry,
for offering such an Affront to his Master; told him it was a Shame, and the like: But his Master, that cou'd just speak, and that was all, call'd out, that he wou'd have the Cart, ay, he wou'd have the Cart;
Humphry,
you Dog,
says he,
bring the Cart, I will have the Cart, I tell you;
and at last adds,
I'll kill you, you Dog, if you don't give me the Cart: This made the Country People quiet; and so Mr.
Humphry
(like himself) put his Master into the Cart, and carried him home.
The next Day, when his Master was sober, and come to know, how he had been us'd by his Man, he conceiv'd such an irreconcileable Grudge against him, as was never to be wip'd off, and was at last fatal to them both.
That Part of the Story is tragical, and wou'd be too long for a Letter; neither is it to my present Purpose: But the short of it is this, that this unhappy Gentleman being another time a little in Drink, and
Humphry
giving him some provoking Language one Night, as they were going home from a Tavern, his Master (in a Passion) run him into the Body, and laid him dead at his Foot; for which he was try'd at the Country AssIzes, and the old Grudge being prov'd, the Jury brought him in guilty of wilful Murder, and it cost him his Life.
I am,
&c.
LETTER VIII.
Dear Brother,
I Told you, at my Beginning to write on this flagrant Subject, I did not intend to trouble you with an Account of the Dishonesty, the thieving, and whoring among Servants, for that these had been frequent, not only in all Ages, but in all Nations: There have always been Thieves and Whores, who get into Peoples Houses, under the Characters of honest Servants, even with Design to rob the Families,
and the like;
and to talk of these wou'd be, to say nothing new; yet you must allow me to observe, that there were never so many such as now. I have been told, our famous Thief-taker (as they call him) has a List of 7000
Newgate-
Birds, now in Services in this City, and Parts adjacent, all with Intent to rob the Houses they are in; and the Reason of this I hinted at in one of my last, namely, that it is certainly encreas'd by the Pride and Insolence, which Servants in general are now arriv'd to; for that (as I said then) when once Servants are brought to contemn the Persons and Authority of their Masters, or Mistresses, or Employers, they soon come to despise their Interests; and at last to break into their Property; and thus they become Thieves, in a manner insensible, and by the meer Consequence of the Thing.
But I am now to describe to you, that Sort of Thieving and Robbery, which is practis'd by those we call honest Servants in
England,
or at least, by those who call themselves
honest;
and who, as I said in my Last, wou'd think themselves very much affronted, if they shou'd be call'd dishonest, or be deny'd Testimonials of their Honesty.
The first is Loss of Time: If I hire a Servant, or a Workman, by the Day, or by the Week; the Meaning of the Agreement is, that my Money is their Due, when the Hours, which they were to work, are expir'd; and their Time is my Due, if they expect their Wages: He that defrauds me of any Part of the Time that he makes me pay for, is as much a Thief, as if he broke open my Cabinet, and took away so much Money, as those Hours (so wasted) came to: This is certainly just, but it is impossible to perswade any Servant of this, and they so little value it, as a Dishonesty, that (generally speaking) they scorn to acknowledge it, either to God or Man.
A Friend of mine, in the Country, had a warm Scuffle with one of these honest Servants, upon this Foot, a few Months ago: He had order'd his Gardener, in particular, to make a Hot-bed, for the raising some nice Plants, which he (being curious that way) took great Delight in, and had a Value for: The Fellow took his Orders, and went out into the Garden, as if he went to make the Hot-bed; but it happen'd, that in a Field, just without his Garden-Wall, there was some young Fellows playing at Cricket, a Sport which the Country People, in this Part of
England,
very much delight in.
Three times the Gentleman went down into his Garden, to see what Progress his Gardener had made in the Hot-bed; at the first time he found him at the Work, having made a Beginning, which was as much as he cou'd expect for the Time that he had been about it: The second time he went down, which was two or three Hours after, and found he had not done one Stroke towards it, more than he had done at first, and that he was not at the Work; whereupon calling him, he found he was at the Back-door of the Garden, looking out into the Field: As soon as he heard his Master call him, he came in, fell to the Work, told him, that he was but just stept to the Door, from the Work, that Minute; which, tho' it was false, yet pass'd well enough, and my Friend said little to him at that time; nor did he know any-thing of the attractive Sport that was in the Field, which occasion'd his Gardener's idle Humour at that time; but seeing him fall to work hard while he staid, he left him again for two or three Hours more, and then comes again, to look at the Work; but, instead of the Work going on, his Gardener was at the same Sport, and at the same Garden-Door as before, only that being pretty sharp in looking out for his Master, he was so nimble as to shut the Garden Backdoor, and sculk behind some fine trim'd Hedges, that stood convenient for his Purpose, and so get to the Hot-bed before his Master; but as Eyes are quicker than Feet, his Master happen'd to see him, tho' he thought he had not.
As the Gardener thought he had not been seen, so his Master did not let him know,
at first,
that he had seen him; but when he came to the Hot-bed, and found little or nothing done, more than was done when he left him before, he question'd him (tho' calmly) what was the Meaning that his Orders had not been executed, and the Hot-bed made? he knowing that the Plants he had to set in it, had lain out of the Ground all the while, and wou'd be in Danger of spoiling:
The Fellow said,
He had work'd very hard at it, and done what he cou'd, and he cou'd do no more than he had done, in that Time,
and the like;
grumbling a little, as if he was not justly blam'd.
His Master, still concealing that he knew any-thing of what was the Case, argued with him a-while how little was done,
and told him,
that if an Hour's Work or two in a Day had been missing, he might indeed not have been able to perceive it, or at least, his Gardener might pretend to impose upon him; but when, instead of missing an Hour or two's Work in a Day, there was not an Hour's Work done in the Day, he cou'd not be deceiv'd so much; and that he expected, when he order'd a Thing to be done, it shou'd be dispatch'd, and not the Time spent at Backdoors, and chatting with Companions,
&c.
This was enough to make a Fellow, who had Manners little enough without it, to be surly, and (perhaps) sawcy: However, he began a little low at first, told his Master, he work'd as hard as he cou'd, and he (
his Master
) was never satisfied; that he cou'd not work harder,
not he,
and the like.
Perhaps you may work hard, when you are at it,
says his Master,
and, perhaps, you may work as hard as you can; but then you can't say, you have work'd as long as you can too, or as long as you ought: I was only out at the Back-door two Minutes in the Morning,
says he,
no Master in
England
wou'd make so many Words about such a Trifle, and I am sure I have setch'd it up since: The Master smil'd at him, and said nothing for a-while; but finding him still grow hot and sawcy,
he told him,
that in Pity to him, and to prevent his telling more Lyes, he wou'd let him know, that he found him the second time at the Garden-Door, and told him, how long he had been there, and how he slunk in, and which way he went round to the
Hot-bed,
to avoid his seeing him.
Instead of modestly acknowledging his Fault, and asking his Master's Pardon,
he told him,
he had little to do indeed, to watch a poor Servant, that he cou'd not stir to speak to a Friend, but he must be at his Heels; that he was a Servant, but wou'd not be a Slave; that he knew how to do his Work, as well as another, without being watch'd: And thus the Fellow run on impudentiy, as if his Master had injur'd him, in the highest Degree, by discovering him: However, his Master commanded his Passion all this while, but when he said, he knew how to do his Work well enough without being watch'd, his Master took him up, as if with a kind of a Jest too;
Well,
says his Master,
but you know, 'tis natural to watch a THIEF.
A Thief!
Says the Gardener,
a Thief!
And repeating it several times, flew into, not a Passion of Sawciness, but even a Rage; told his Master, he was as honest a Man as himself; that he scorn'd a Master that shou'd call him
a Thief,
and he wou'd not take it from the best Master that evet kept a Servant; he had robb'd him of nothing, and was no Thief, and wou'd not be call'd so, and he wou'd make him prove it,
and the like.
Well, hold,
says his Master,
don't be so hot; if you put me to prove it, I do insist upon it, and I shall not only prove it, but punish you for it too; I say, you have robb'd me of the Time which I pay you for, not only to Day, but many Days; and that Servant, that robs me of my Time, and of his Work in the time that I hire him for, robs me of my Money, and is as much a Thief, as if he stole my Money out of my House, or out of my Pocket.
O dear!
says the Gardener,
is that your Thieving you charge me with? Will you make a Man a
Thief
for that? I think, and know myself to be as honest a Man as any in
England
for all that: Why, hark you, Sir,
says his Master,
do I pay you your Wages, or do I not? Well,
he said,
he did not deny but he had his Wages: And what do I give you Wages for,
says his Master?
Why, for my Work,
says the Gardener.
And what if you do not work,
says his Master,
and yet take my Money as if you did, as is the Case to Day?
Why,
he said,
he did not say, but it was wrong to take his Money, and not do his Work, but he did not do so.
Prithee,
says his Master,
don't tell me of its being wrong, and such Stuff as that, I tell thee, 'tis
Thieving,
and neither better nor worse; and when you tell me a Lye, and tell me you have been at work, when I know you have been at the Alehouse, and out of your Business, and by that Cheat you take my Money, as if you had been at work; I say, that is robbing me, and when you do so, you are
a Thief;
there's no mincing the Matter.
Well, this Word
Thief
ran so in his Head, and stuck so in his Stomach, that notwithstanding his Master talk'd all this very calmly to him, yet his Blood was fir'd with it, and he cou'd not work; but, as soon as his Master's Back was turn'd, he stuck up his Spade, and his Fork in the Ground, and away he goes out, at the Back-door, to the Alehouse; gets very drunk, and came not home, 'till about one a-Clock in the Morning; when being, by his Master's Order, shut out, he went back, and lodg'd as he cou'd; and in the Morning, when he came again, his Master order'd his other Servants, to tell him at the Door, that his Master had no more Business for him.
He made many Attempts, and got several Persons to interceed for him, for he had a very good Place of it; but his Master was inflexible; so he came for his Tools, had his Wages, and was dismiss'd.
When he was going away, he told his Master, that as he had serv'd him so long, and had never differ'd with him before, he hop'd he wou'd give him a Certificate: I shall explain what is meant here by a Certificate hereafter, when I come to that Part.
A Certificate,
says his Master!
Yes, I'll give thee a Certificate, if thou desirest it.
Yes,
says the Gardener,
I desire it, if you please.
Why,
says his Master,
I believe thou had'st better take no Certificate; you know,
added
his Master,
you said you cou'd have Places enough.
Well, Sir,
says the Gardener,
but I hope you won't scruple such a Trifile as that.
No,
says his Master,
but I tell thee, thou may'st do better without it.
Why so, Sir,
says the Gardener?
Why,
says the Master,
because it will do thee no Good.
Yes,
he said,
it wou'd do him good to be sure, when he came to see another Place.
Why, look you,
says his Master,
such a Certificate as I must give you, will do you no good, indeed.
Why,
says he,
will you not give me such a Certificate as the Law directs?
Yes indeed will I,
says his Master,
and that is such as is according to your Desert.
Why,
said the Gardener,
I have been an honest Servant.
No, hold there,
says the Master,
I can't say that indeed.
Why,
says the Gardener,
what, will you put this little trifling Difference into a Certificate?
I'll put in nothing but the Truth,
says the Master.
What Truth,
says the Gardener?
And began to be sawcy again.
Look you,
says the Master,
don't be sawcy again, for I will not lye for you, nor assist you to deceive any-body else, as you have me.
Well,
says the Gardener,
give me a Certificate, and put what you will into it, say your worst, I value it not.
Say you so,
says his Master,
well, my Certificate shall be just and fair, and make you your best of it; upon which he wrote his Certificate, as follows.
I
A— W—
do hereby certify, that the Bearer
G— M—.
serv'd me as my chief Gardener, two Years and one Quarter; that he is a Person capable of discharging the Place of a Gardener, but was dismiss'd by me for neglecting his Business, robbing me of my Time, and for his sawcy Tongue. Witness my Hand this twentieth Day of
August,
1721.
A— W—
I shall have Occasion to give you a farther Relation of this Affair of the Certificate, so I say no more to it now, only this; the Fellow took it, and went away, and had so little Wit as to shew it among his Comrades, and Fellow-Gardeners, which he did (as he thought) to expose his Master; but they in return made it publick, and the poor Fellow became so known by it, that indeed it was an effectual Certificate to him, for no Gentleman wou'd employ him, and he kept out of Place, 'till he was almost starv'd; but of that also hereafter.
I shou'd have told you, that in he first Discourse between this Gentleman and his Gardener, he ask'd the Fellow the Question in few Words, that I formerly ask'd my Overseer, namely,
Whether he did not think it a
Theft
to rob his Master of his Time, if he took Wages of him for it, and did not work?
He said, as above, he own'd it shou'd not be so, and that it shou'd not be so often: But when his Master ask'd him again, and kept him to it, that it was
Robbery,
he answer'd,
no indeed,
he did not think any-thing like it; he might say it was a Fault, but every Fault did not make a Man a
Thief.
No, no,
says his Master,
I suppose you count nothing Thievery but what a Man must (or may) be hang'd, or transported for.
Truly,
he said,
he thought it was no Theft, for the Law had not made any Punishment for it, and if it had been Theft, there wou'd have been a Law against it.
Very well,
says his Master,
there is no Law expresly to punish a Man with corporal Punishment for being a Bankrupt, and yet we often say, that in some Cases a Bankrupt is no better than a Highwayman; nay, that he deserves to be hang'd a thousand times more than one that robs upon the Road.
The Gardener, however, wou'd not yield to it on any Account whatsoever, that robbing his Master of his Time ought to be called Robbing him at all, or Theft; that it was but what the
Spaniards
call a
Peccadillo,
a small Fault, that there was nothing in it, but it was what every-body did as well as he, and therefore he might do it as well as everybody else.
This impudent barefac'd robbing their Masters of their Time, and justifying that it is no Theft, is the Foundation of almost all the impudent Carriage of those kind of Servants, whose Service consists in Labour; for (first) it makes them impatient of Reproof, and sawcy, if they are spoken to, as if they were injur'd, not their Masters; that they ought to have the Liberty to play at their Work, when they thought fit, and that the Master had not Right to take any Notice of it; and if they are put away for such Behaviour, they take upon them to rail plentifully at the Injustice of it.
And this brings me to a Part I have not spoken to yet, namely, the manner in which the Servants generally behave here in
England,
when they are dismiss'd any Service.
1. It is very seldom that a Servant can be put away by any Gentleman, but that, as above, they are full of it, that they are injur'd; that they were put away for nothing, or some Trifle; nay, 'tis very seldom they will own, that they were put away at all; but that they wou'd serve no longer; that they did not like; and that they had come away upon some very just Discontent; and 'tis very rare, but on such Occasions they will raise some scandalous Lye or other on the Family they come from.
2. But on the other-hand, if the Crime is notorious, and they have nothing to say to hide it, then their Behaviour is still worse, and they rail at, and abuse the whole Family, in the grossest manner possible.
From one or both these Cases it generally happens, that whenever a Gentleman turns away a Servant in this Country, he is sure to make an Enemy: I hinted this before, when I told you how far this goes with the Gentlemen here, and how patiently they submit to be bullied and insulted by their Servants, for Fear of being rail'd at, and abus'd by them, when they are gone: But I must add also, that it is not always so neither; sometimes an unthankful Rogue meets with a Master that knows how to deal with him; and for your Diversion I shall here give you a Story that has very lately been the Subject of Satisfaction to all our Neighbourhood.
A certain Citizen, who had his Country House in a Village near
London,
had a Servant, who he had kept many Years, and had employ'd him in several matters of Business, as well as meer Servitude; and having had him so long, that he was (as it were) naturaliz'd to the Family, it appear'd that he had really a Kindness for the Fellow.
Had the Man had the use of but a moderate Share of common Sense, he might have consider'd, that tho' his Master had a Kindness for him, and did often bear with, and pass by his Misdemeanours, yet that he might one time or other come to be tir'd of him; and that it was not in human Nature to be always winking at the Abuses, and ill Behaviour of a Servant; it was easy for him to know, that his Master did not wink, because he cou'd not see, for he knew his Master was no Fool; and he was himself not Fool enough to be ignorant, that whatever he was formerly, he was now become a very unsufferable Fellow, and such as no Master cou'd, or indeed ought to bear with.
But whatever he might see, and know of himself, nothing cou'd bring him (it seems) to reform, or to mend his Manners; but he grew worse and worse; was drunken, idle, pilfering, and withal, an intolerable Swearer: To compleat it all, he grew sawcy and insolent to his Master; as I have told you, they all do; and whenever he got Drink in his Head, was more particularly abusive to his Master, than at other times.
His Master, whose particular Aversion was the Vice of Drunkenness, but more especially in his Servants, had several times differ'd with him upon that particular Occasion; and sometimes, as well as he lov'd him, had turn'd him away for it, but was still prevail'd with, by some Intercession or other, and particularly by his Respect which he had for the Fellow, to take him again.
This Fellow harden'd in that Part of his Carriage, which particularly merits the Name of Ingratitude, and which render'd him most base, because offer'd to a Master, and a Family, to which he was bound by infinite Obligations; such as rating the Station he was in, namely, of a Servant, were as binding in their Nature as he was capable of receiving; yet behav'd so, that he became a Nusance even to the whole Family; and indeed unsufferable, for he was not only a Thief, a Drunkard, idle, and negligent in his Business; and withal, intolerably rude, and sawcy, when reprov'd; but he introdu'd other Thieving into the Family, which were at last expos'd, by the very Observation of the Neighbours, who cou'd not see the Family so abus'd, without acquainting them of it.
Upon this, his Master turn'd him, and his Dependants off, and dismiss'd him his Service; and yet even this his Master did with Calmness, and without doing himself that Justice upon him, which the Law wou'd have justify'd him in; for the Laws here in matters of that Nature, are such, that this Fellow wou'd have been transported, if his Master had thought fit to have carried his Resentment on to Extremity; but in Compassion to him and his Family he forebore that Part.
But no sooner was the Fellow dismiss'd, but he run about the Town, raging, and swearing at, and damning his Master, and the whole Family, from whom he had receiv'd so much good Usage, and so many Favours; representing his Usage as unjust, and injurious, and as if he had done nothing to merit being turn'd off, or that being put out of his Service had cancell'd all the Obligation of former Favours; a thousand scandalous Lies were rais'd, and spread about by him, thro' the Town; and,
in a Word,
he fail'd not to give all possible Testimonies of the utmost Spite, Malice, and Rage, against the whole Family; where he, and his Family, had (for several Years together) been so well us'd, and so much oblig'd.
But as the Characters of the Family were plac'd by Providence out of his Reach, and that all the Neighbourhood knew how much better they had merited from him, it return'd all in his Face; nor did his Master, or the Family, much mind him; for as it was below their Resentment; they took not the least Notice of it, or of them; but the Fellow grew infamous by it, and gradually grew poor also, which must be the Issue of such Conduct, for no Families of Note wou'd entertain him.
It is true, Contempt is the best, and indeed the only way to treat such Fellows with, and 'tis so severe a Punishment upon them, for their Behaviour, that it exceeds either the Stocks, or the Correction-Post; but the Hardship upon Gentlemen, even in the Practice of so much Self-denial, as that of suppressing their own Resentments in such Cases, is very great; and there are some Cases in Families, where the Abuses receiv'd by such People can't be pass'd by; and this leads me to some Particulars, which really good Families are so much abus'd in, by the Villany of turn'd-off Servants, both Men and Women, that it can't,
I say,
be put up, without infinite Injustice to themselves.
Nor indeed can this Article be well omitted, because it has gone a greater Length in Family-Mischiefs, than any Part I have yet spoken to, and has been the Ruin of some Families of Note, within these few Years: The Fact is branch'd out into two Particulars.
1. The Liberty these abusive Creatures, call'd
Servants,
take with the Reputation of the Families they go from; and, in particular, sacrificing the Characters of the Young-Ladies, wherever they come.
2. The Treachery of them, in betraying Young-Ladies of Fortune, into the Hands of Villains, and Scoundrels; either to debauch them, or to Marriages, many ways as fatal as the other wou'd be.
That the Insults of Servants is risen up to the first Pitch of Villany, is now so notorious, that a thousand Instances is to be given of it, and the Remedy is so hard to be found, that the only Hope now left us for the Evil of it, seems to lie in the Practice, being so scandalous, that no Persons, of any tolerable Degree of Prudence, will lay any Stress upon it: The Instances of such Attempts, having appear'd meerly malicious, are innumerable: Some Examples of this I cannot omit; it is true, they carry me a little off from the Men-Servants, this Part being chiefly in the way of the Women, or Maid-Servants; but the Men are not without their Share of it.
A certain eminent Family, within the Compass of my Knowledge, had a particular Affront of this Kind put upon them, by a certain
Maid-Servant,
as she was suppos'd to be: The Lady being newly dead, the Gentleman (having three or four Children) had hir'd a House-keeper to manage the Family, and kept two Maid-Servants under her, besides the Cook.
The House-keeper was a sober, grave Woman, that had a bad Husband, but he was yet alive, and as her Family was reduc'd by his Extravagance, and himself got fast by the Heels in the
Fleet-Prison,
she was glad to get into such a Place as this was, for her Support; her Master, directing what Servants he intended to keep, had left it to this Woman (his House-keeper) to hire such as she thought proper for his Business; and she letting her Husband know that they wanted a Chamber-Maid (perhaps innocently too) that he might, if he heard of any, send them to her, he sends her a Creature, of his own procuring, to be hir'd; and as the most impudent Creatures are sometimes more than ordinarily qualify'd to counterfeit that Modesty, which they are not at-all bless'd with, so this Maid appear'd with the Air of a modest sober Girl, as much as cou'd be desir'd, and not only the House-keeper, but the Master himself was very well pleas'd with her.
She had not, however, been long in the Family, but, with a Subtlety beyond the Devil, she causes a Feud in the Family, between the House-keeper and another Maid, who was properly call'd the Nursery-Maid; and this she manag'd with such Dexterity, that even the two Parties themselves did not so much as suspect, that she (the Chamber Maid) had any hand in it: This Quarrel run up to such a Height, that,
in a Word,
it begin to embroil the Family; for every Day (more or less) this Nursery Maid was affronting the House-keeper, 'till at length, the Cause came before the Master of the House, who seeing his House-keeper evidently in the right, began calmly to perswade the Maid to be quiet, and to make no more Disturbance in the Family, but to mend what was complain'd of, and do her Business as she shou'd do.
The Maid seeing her Master, tho' he had spoken very little to her Disadvantage, yet apparently against her, instead of taking quietly the Reproof which was so much her Due, flies out in a Kind of Passion, and went raving about the House, among the other Servants,
telling them,
it was easy to see which way things went, and that the House-keeper wou'd be sure to trample poor Servants under Foot, when she had her Master on her side; and,
in a Word,
behav'd very sawcily, and indeed impudently to her Master, intimating little less, but that she had been told, that he was,
in short,
too great with his House-keeper.
So great is the Power of Scandal, and so greedily do the Minds of the common People entertain any thing that savours of Reproach, that tho' the Master himself, believing his Character to be out of the Reach of such Tongues, despis'd it, yet he soon found, that it had got Vent in the Family, and even in the Neighbourhood also; for some, who were concern'd for the Reputation of the Gentleman himself, came and acquainted him with it.
He was a little alarm'd at it then indeed, and call'd his House-keeper to a hearing, for she was alarm'd at it, as well as he; the Servants were then call'd together, and examin'd before the House-keeper's Face, and the two Neighbours present; all the Servants gave her a Character greater than she desir'd, and declar'd, that they never saw the least Indecency in her Behaviour, in their Lives; and it was more particularly observ'd, that the two Servants, who were really the Traytors in this Wickedness, were the forwardest, when it came thus to a hearing, to justify their Master, and the House-keeper also, and with the greatest Expressions of Kindness to the one, and Respect for the other.
But this look'd so ill among the rest of the Servants, that one of them, who indeed had been suspected, took the Occasion (in order to vindicate herself) to take the Maid short, and tell her, before her Master, and the House-keeper, that she had been the forwardest to talk of the House-keeper, in a manner that did not become her, and began to be particular with her, and seem'd inclin'd to enter into some Discovery.
But the subtle Wench, the Nursery-Maid, took her up short, and said, that was only in Mirth, and jesting with one another, when she had told a Story of a certain Gentleman, that had been a little familiar with his House keeper; but that she had not the least Thought of what was now suggested; that her Master had indeed been against her, in a Dispute between her and the Housekeeper, but that was as he pleas'd, she thought no Harm upon that Account; and down she falls upon her Knees, and makes loud Imprecations on herself, if ever she entertain'd a Thought to the Prejudice of her Master's Reputation, or of the House-keeper's either; and this Part of what she said was really true, for she knew (within herself) that she did not believe what she had reported, but that she had rais'd it all maliciously, and of her own Head, or at least by the Instigation of the other Maid, mention'd above, who, she also knew, did it with a Design to supplant the Housekeeper.
However, this Creature manag'd her Desence with so much Art, and fac'd down the other Maid with so much Confidence, and so many Words, that they were all dismiss'd; the Master was defam'd, and the poor Housekeeper not only blasted in her Reputation, but her Husband was enrag'd, and (tho' a Prisoner) was hardly kept from insulting the Gentleman, and his Wife too; and tho' all this went on to a very unhappy Length, yet still the Servants were all purg'd, and stood clear of being the Instruments.
But the Master of the House, as he was made uneasy at first, was much more so, when he found that (notwithstanding all his Servants had said) the Scandal encreas'd, and spread farther and farther upon him; and besides that, he had some Intimations, that this Nursery-Maid, notwithstanding all she had said before, and notwithstanding all her Imprecations, had still let fall some little Reflections, and had shewn, that nothing but Fear restrain'd her, for she was resolv'd to ruin the House-keeper, if she cou'd, having retain'd an implacable Grudge against her, from the first Quarrel, as above.
Upon this, the Gentleman order'd that Maid to be turn'd off, and giving her a Month's Wages (not a Month's Warning) had her turn'd out of Doors that very Night; he wou'd not order the House-keeper to do it, because he wou'd not encrease the Quarrel between them; then as he found, that however innocent the poor Woman was, the Reproach wou'd never die, unless she was remov'd too, he resolv'd to put her off also; tho', as he was fully satisfy'd of the Wrong done to her, he thought it was particularly hard upon her, as it was also upon himself, with Respect to his Family, because she was a very useful and faithful Servant.
The poor Woman was under a great Affliction, the Loss of her Place being a Kind of Ruin to her, the Circumstances of herself, and of her Husband consider'd; but she was confounded, and her coming from her Place made less grievous to her, when going from her Master's House, directly to her Husband in the
Fleet
Prison, instead of receiving her kindly, as he us'd to do, he flew out in a Rage at her, abus'd her, and fell upon her with his Hands too, that she had much a-do (and not
but
by crying out, and some of the Prisoners coming in to help her) to escape with her Life, and all the while knew nothing what the Reason of it all was; after his first Fury was over, and she cou'd get Room to talk with him, he charg'd her positively with being a Whore, and a Whore to her Master, and shew'd her a Letter, which he had written to her Master, reproaching him with abusing him in debauching his Wife, intimating, that if his Misfortunes had not pinn'd him down in such a Place as he was in, he wou'd have come, and taken his Revenge with his own Hands.
When the poor Woman saw this Letter, and what Mischiefs had been so near her, she was glad in her Mind, that she was come away from her Master, for that she saw things were gone too far to have been otherwise; but she set herself with all her Cunning, to find out (if possible) who it cou'd be, who had carried their Malice to such a Height.
There was a poor Woman in the Prison, whose Business it was to clean the Rooms, run of Errands, tend sick Prisoners, and any such things as Occasion offer'd, to get her Bread; this Woman was a sensible good Sort of body, and sharp enough, and above all, had a singular Character in the Place for her Faithfulness, and Honesty to her Trust.
This poor Creature was either in the Man's Chamber, or near it, when he fell foul on his Wife, as is said above, and did her Endeavour to deliver the poor Wife out of his Hands, and consequently came to know something of the Case.
After the Man's Wife (the Housekeeper) had,
as I have said,
got a little farther into the Affair, and found how it stood between her and her Husband, she took this poor Woman aside, and engaging her to Secrecy, and to assist her,
told her
the whole Case, and withal (giving her something in hand, with Promise of more) employ'd her to find out (if possible) who it was that cou'd be thus malicious, to bring such a horrid Story to her Husband.
In the mean time, to go back to the
Nursery-Maid,
as she was turn'd off with some Resentment, so she went away full of Resentment; and she was no sooner out of the House, but she went about, railing at the House-keeper, and at her Master too; openly calling the first a
Whore,
and not forbearing to say, she was so to her Master; and so impolitick was she in her Discourse, that she form'd several Stories, which she pretended to say were of her own Knowledge; particularly, that she saw the Housekeeper go into her Master's Chamber, such a Night (naming the time) and that she sat up all Night to watch the Door, and that she was sure, she did not come out till the next Morning; that at such a time, she saw her Master kiss her, and several other Passages too dirty to be repeated here; that she went another time into her Master's Chamber, presently after he was gone down Stairs; and that there were two Pillows in the Bed, and the plain Mark of two Bodies, as having lain in the Bed all Night.
You must take it with you as you go,
that the other Servant, who, as I hinted, had kindled this Flame from the Beginning, was the Person that privately set all these Wheels at work, and gave this foolish Wench (the Nursery-Maid) all her Cue;
told her
those Stories of the House-keeper's being in her Master's Chamber all-Night, of the Print on the Pillows, and in the Bed; and affirm'd that she watch'd, and that she saw them, but brought the other Wench (who was forward enough of herself to be reveng'd of the House-keeper) to take it all to herself, and tell the Story in her own Name, which she did, as above.
This subtle Creature also made the same hot, passionate Girl go to the House-keeper's Husband in the Prison, and tell him all the vile Stories the cou'd invent, which had put him into such a Rage, and made him beat his Wife; and to propose to him, that he shou'd affront the Gentleman, in the manner he intended to do by his Letter.
Nor did she fail of her Design, for every-thing answering her End, she got the House-keeper turn'd away,
as you have heard;
after which, with a Smile in her Face, and a smooth Tongue, she went and offer'd her Service to her Master, to be House-keeper, 'till (as she pretended with a feign'd Modesty) he cou'd provide himself more to his Mind.
In this Address to her Master, she fail'd not to rail plentifully at the Rudeness of the Nursery-Maid, suggested how she had certainly wrong'd the poor House-keeper, and been the Cause of her Ruin, and how justly his Worship had put her away; that she deserv'd to be punish'd, for that she had certainly done it in meer Malice, on Account of the Quarrel they had with one another, when his Worship (
so she call'd her Master
) decided in favour of the Housekeeper; that she had heard her say she wou'd be reveng'd of her,
and the like.
Thus she sacrific'd the very Impliment she had made use of, and expos'd her as much as she had made her expose the Housekeeper, and all to serve her own turn, and get into the House-keeper's Place; which, by her sawning Tongue (her Treachery not being suspected) she brought to pass, and was accordingly made House-keeper, as she desir'd.
All this while the old House-keeper was waiting, and using an unwearied Diligence to find out (if possible) who had thus supplanted her, and above all, who had us'd her so basely to her Husband, as to set him against her, as had been done; and besides the honest poor Woman, who she had employ'd at the Prison, she set another Woman to work, who kept a Shop, in the Town where her Master had his Country-House, and where all these wicked things were done; and she told her Case to her, and begg'd of her, that if the Maid came to her Shop, as she knew she wou'd, she wou'd endeavour to get some of the Particulars out of her, if she cou'd; for she suspected (tho' she cou'd not prove it) that all this abominable Stuff came from her, for their old Quarrel; tho' she cou'd not so much as think she had any hand in the other Part, about her Husband, for she was satisfy'd, she did not so much as know she had a Husband, much less where he was, or in what Condition.
She had not set these Wheels a working many Days, but she found the Effect of her Diligence; for this Wench, who had been fully instructed by the other, who was now the House-keeper, comes in the Morning to the Prison, to the Husband, and there she begins her Story again from the Beginning; affirm'd again, that she saw his Wife go into her Master's Chamber at Night, after he went in, to go to Bed, and that she sat up all-Night, and was positive she never came out 'till Morning; also the visible Appearance of two having been in the Bed,
and the like;
then she run on in a great many Tokens of more than ordinary Kindness that was between them; that she did not treat him with the Distance and Respect due from a Servant, but with a kind of Freedom more like a Wife; and that her Master did not use her like a Servant, but with a kind of Familiarity, that any-body might see thro',
and the like.
It being in the Morning, the poor Woman,
I mention'd above,
was in the Room, doing necessary things, as was her Place; at first the Maid seem'd a little shy of speaking, but he encourag'd her,
and said,
you may speak freely, that is only a poor Woman that tends the Chambers here, she minds nothing; and so the Wench went on with all the Freedom she wou'd have done, if they had been alone.
The poor Woman busied herself here and there, about the Room, as usual, and seem'd to take no Notice of any-thing; but as she had listen'd very attentively to all she had said, and (with Detestation) observ'd how she endeavour'd to insinuate Jealousy into the Man, and exasperate him against his own Wife, she resolv'd to hear a little more of it, if she cou'd; so finding she had sully vented her Rage, and supposing it wou'd not be long e'er she wou'd go away; she goes out first, and planting herself in the Way, at her going out, the Man, when he saw her, call'd to her, to shew her (
the Maid
) the way out, and get the Door at the Stair-foot open'd.
She readily offer'd her Service, but when she came to the Door, she pretended the Turnkey was not at the Door, but wou'd come immediately; and so ask'd her to go into a little Room, which she knew to be empty, and sit down; so she gets her into the Room.
Here she falls a bemoaning her poor Master above Stairs, that he shou'd have such hard Luck, and be so treated by his Wife, when he was under the Affliction of being in Prison, and so brought the Wench, who was full of it, and apt enough to be talkative,
I say,
she brought her to tell all the Story over-again, and to name the House-keeper's Name, and her Master's Name, the Place where he liv'd, and all she cou'd think of; which was what the wise poor Woman wanted, for above she had heard the Story, but had not the Knowledge of Persons and Names; but here the unwary Fool told her Story without any Reserve, without the least Caution, not dreaming she was just taken in her own Snare.
The poor Woman join'd with her in every-thing, said
Ay
and
Yes
to all that requir'd it, and got the Bottom of her Resentment out; and then pretending the Turnkey was come, went with her to the Door, and let her go.
When she was rid of her, she went immediately, while it was fresh in her Memory, and set down in Writing every-thing that was material, that she had said; with the Names, and Circumstances, and Times of every Action; as well what she had said to her below, as what she had said before to him above Stairs; and this she did, that she might be sure to do Justice to the Man's abus'd Wife, and that she might do no Wrong to the Wench.
When the House-keeper came again, which was not 'till two or three Days after, she stop'd her, and wou'd not let her go up to her Husband; for,
said she,
he is in a Range again, for here has been an Agent with him, enough to enflame ten Husbands; so she took her into the same Room,
ond told her
the whole Story,
as above.
It seems, this revengeful Creature, the Nursery-Maid, being bent upon doing all the Mischief she was able, and being heated with the Discourse she had had here, both above Stairs and below, went directly from the Prison, up to the Chandler's Shop, where she us'd to go in her Master's Neighbourhood, and there she sits down to refresh herself, it being some Distance from the City.
The Woman, who kept the Shop, expected what happen'd,
namely,
that she wou'd fall upon the old Story, and thinking it wou'd not be convenient, that she shou'd be brought in as an Evidence against any Servant, and for what might be said in her Shop too, for that then no Servants wou'd care to come to her Shop, she slipt into a Back-room, where she (as it happen'd) had another Woman, a Friend, that was come from
London
to see her; so she brought out her Friend into the Shop, upon some Pretence or other, and growing all familiar together, it was not very long e'er the Maid began her Story, about her being turn'd away at such a House, and why her Master put her away; boldly hinting that she had seen a little too much,
and the like;
then the Stranger put in her Questions, and holding up her Hands, made an Admiration that such a thing shou'd happen, so-and-so, and in such a Family too, she thought the Gentleman had been quite another Person,
and the like;
this drew the weak passionate Wench in, to tell all her Tale, ay, and more than her Tale too; so that wherever
she
came,
she
found room to add something or other to the Story.
The House-keeper got a full Account of this also, and being thus effectually furnish'd with two sufficient Evidences, besides hearing it in Pieces and Parts, in several other Places among the Neighbours, some here, some there;
I say,
being now fully satisfy'd who had been the Incondiary,
she
(upon good Advice) causes the Creature to be arrested in the first Place, in an Action of Slander, and left her Husband might (upon Application to him) discharge her,
she
went and acquainted the Gentleman (her former Master) of the whole Story, who carrying her before a Justice of Peace, had her bound over, and committed to the House of Correction, 'till
she
shou'd find Sureties to appear at the Quarter-Sessions. In this Pickle
she
found herself, the very first two or three Days, after her having been at the
Fleet
Prison, with the House-keeper's Husband.
However,
she
found Friends at some length of time, and giving Bail,
she
got her Liberty again for a-while; and not foreseeing what was like to follow, she was at first as sawcy as ever; but her Friends, who knew better things, and who found, that the Gentleman resolv'd to prosecute her very warmly, especially for the poor Woman's Sake, and more especially when they came to know what Evidence they had against her, warn'd her a little of her Danger, and so
she
behav'd something quieter.
She began now to find
she
was betray'd, and that
she
was in Danger to suffer for the Rudeness of her Tongue, and as, I
say,
this made her a little more humble, so in her Discourse
she
let some Words fall, that what
she
said was not altogether of her own Head, but that
she
had good Authority for what
she
had said.
Some of her Friends carried this to the House-keeper that prosecuted her,
but she answer'd, she
was a poor Woman, and
she
cou'd not afford to prosecute two or three Folks; and besides,
she
might say what
she
had said, only to slip her own Neck out of the Collar, and when a Prosecution shou'd be begun against the Person
she
had accus'd
she
might deny it all again, or might run away, and not appear at the Trial, and so
she
(the House-keeper) might be cast for Want of Evidence; and for these Reasons,
she said, she
wou'd not run the venture of going from one to another; but the
Nursery-Maid
was her Mark,
she
had sufficient Evidence against her, and
she
wou'd look no farther; that besides
she
was the Person who had endeavour'd to set her (the old House-keeper's) Husband against her, by a forg'd and slanderous Charge, and had made him abuse her, as he had done, and
she
wou'd have the Truth of it out, if
she
cou'd; but wou'd look no farther for her Enemy, than where
she
had found her.
But this Accident of the Nursery-Maid, pretending to say
she had Authors for what she had said,
had a farther Effect than what has been yet observ'd, and that in two differing ways;
first,
the
new House-keeper,
who, as I have said, was at the Bottom of all the Mischief, and had been so from the Beginning, but had craftily conceal'd herself, began to be apprehensive, that this Wench wou'd discover her, as the Author of all; and therefore she under-hand push'd on the old House-keeper not to accept of the Offer of a Discovery; and put all those Arguments into her Mouth, which I have just mentioned, and press'd her to prosecute the Maid with the utmost Severity, and to bring her to a Tryal with all the Speed
she
cou'd.
This
she
manag'd with such Dexterity, that the Tryal was hasten'd, all her Proposals of a farther Discovery were rejected, and
she
was left to expect the worst, which indeed was bad enough for her; for, upon a full Tryal, the Maid was sentenc'd to pay a Fine to the Prosecutor, for her Damage in the Loss of her Place (
I do not remember the Sum exactly
) and to be whipp'd publickly at the Cart's Tail, thro' the Town where her Master's Country. House was, and where
she
had liv'd; which was executed on her to the utmost, as indeed
she
very well deserv'd;
she
was lash'd, it seems, very heartily, and no-body pitied her, but all the Neighbours said
she
ought to smart for it.
But the Story does not end yet; the poor Wench (tho'
she
had been soundly lash'd) had a Fine also to pay to the Housekeeper, for Reparation of Scandal, and Loss of Employment; this they took hold of, and she having intimated that
she
cou'd make some Discovery, the House-keeper, willing to know who had been her Friends, and who her Enemies in this Affair, went to her in the Prison, and press'd her to make this Discovery, offering her good Encouragement, if she wou'd tell who set her on upon all those wicked things.
But the Wench was then obstinate;
No, she said,
they had done their worst to her, and
she
had no Obligation to gratify them; if they had desir'd it of her, before
she
had been us'd as
she
was,
she
might have serv'd them, but now
she
wou'd say nothing: They argued with her, that there was still room for them to be kind to her; that
she
lay under a Fine, which
she
was to be kept in Prison for 'till
she
paid, and the Prosecutor offer'd to forgive her all the Money
she
was to pay her for Damages, on Condition of the Discovery;
No, she said,
it was below her to betray any of her
Fellow-Servants,
and
she
wou'd tell them nothing; that as to getting out of Prison,
she
wou'd do that as well as
she
cou'd, but
she
wou'd make no Discovery; so they went away, concluding it was only Talk, and
she
was not able to discover any-thing; but the old House-keeper wou'd not give it over so, for
she
had some Reasons to believe there was something in it, so
she
follow'd her still, and one Day pressing her very home, and
telling her first,
what
she
wou'd give her,
namely,
remit the Damages, and gratify her besides,
the Maid told her jestingly, she
might go among the Servants, and enquire there, perhaps
she
wou'd hear of it in the Family without her Help.
The House-Keeper
took her short there, and told her,
as for
Fellow-Servants, she
shou'd not pretend any-thing of that Nature; for
she
was very well satisfy'd, there was none of the Fellow-Servants but were so provok'd, at the barbarous Treatment of her (
the old House-keeper
) and especially of their
Master,
that they had all of them declar'd,
she
deserv'd what
she
had had; and had been eager with her, to go on with the Prosecution.
Ay, said she, she
was sure that cou'd not be, they wou'd not ALL say so.
Yes,
says the House-keeper,
every one of them.
The Maid laugh'd at her again, and, with a kind of a Jest, repeated the Words,
not every one, not every one,
several times.
The House-keeper answer'd, she
wou'd prove it, that
every one
of them had openly said so.
The Maid then fell to railing, and
told her she
ly'd, it cou'd not be, and if they had said so, it was only to blind and deceive her, and make a Jest of her.
The House-keeper return'd,
yes, they had all told her so, and particularly,
the new House-keeper had told her, she
wou'd be unjust to herself, and unkind to her Master's Reputation, if
she
did not prosecute her to the utmost; and she wou'd bring her to say so to her Face.
The Maid soon discover'd (by her Countenance) that she meant the same Person, when she said,
not every one;
for upon her naming her,
as above, she
flew into a greater Passion, told her it cou'd not be, and that
she
was sure it was a Lye,
and the like.
Well,
says the old House-keeper,
I'll go and fetch such Witness of it, as shall convince you of the Truth of what I have said; and with that
she
left her, and went out; the next Morning
she
went to the
new Housekeeper,
innocently told her all their Discourse, and wou'd have had her gone with her to the Prison, to have justify'd what
she
had said; for
she
had spoken with such Eagerness against the Wench, that the
old House-keeper
cou'd not imagine, but
she
was hearty in it all, and wou'd have said the same to her Face.
But
she
excus'd herself;
first, she said, she
did not love
fending and proving,
what Advice
she
had given her,
she
had made use of, and it had answer'd the End
she
gave it her for,
namely,
that
she
had got Reparation of her Credit, and the Wench had been severely punish'd, and
she
thought
she
ought to be satisfy'd with it; and so, in
short,
excus'd herself from going to the Maid, or having any more Trouble about it; 'twas time,
she said,
to let it all drop and die, that the World might not be always gossiping about the Affairs of the Family.
But this did not satisfy the Woman, so
she
went to her Master, and
told him,
what the Maid had said,
viz.
That there was somebody still in his Family, who had been the Original of all this Scandal; that she had not rais'd it of herself, but that
she
had it from some-body in the Family;
then told him
the Reasons
she
had to believe it was the
new House-keeper,
and what Steps
she
had taken with her to bring them
Face-to-Face,
but that the House-keeper declin'd it; her Master bade her be easy, he wou'd manage that Part for her, for that he wou'd the next Day send the
new House-keeper
of an Errand to the Maid, to carry her some Relief, for that tho' he was satisfy'd
she
shou'd be punish'd, yet he was not willing
she
shou'd starve, and he would send her something by the House-keeper, as if
she
(
the House-keeper
) had given it of her own Accord.
She was jealous this would not do, and that the
House keeper
wou'd sham it, and not go, but send some body else; but, the House-keeper was not so cunning, but did come, believing that carrying Money to the Maid, and giving it to her as her own Gift, wou'd secure her; and this Thought made her Fool enough to go.
When
she
came there, the
old House-keeper,
who had watch'd her narrowly, follow'd quick after, and clapp'd in upon her (as if
she
also had come casually to see the Maid) and
she
came so suddenly and unlook'd for, that she cou'd not avoid their being all together; being thus met, they began to talk roundly of the Matter, and after some time the
old
House-keeper reminded the
new
one of her formerly expressing honestly,
as the old one call'd it,
her Detestation of the Fact, and pressing her to have her (
the Nursery-Maid
) prosecuted and punish'd; and told her the Nursery-Maid wou'd not believe her, but she hop'd she wou'd not deny it now: When she repeated that Part, she (
the new House-keeper
) broke out in a Passion at it,
told her,
it was a Lye of her own inventing, that she had perswaded her not to go on with the Prosecution, but to pity the poor Girl,
and the like.
The House-keeper was a little surpriz'd at first, with such a Token of Assurance, but recovering herself, she, with a Smile,
told her,
she was very glad she had found out the Firebrand of the Family; that if she had known it a little soouer, the poor Nursery Maid shou'd have been pardon'd; that she wou'd not only prove she had said so to her, but that she had said the same thing to her Master as well as to her, perswading him to prosecute the Girl in her (
the old House-keeper
's) Behalf; and to prove the Truth of it [
turning to the Nursery-Maid
]
Susan, said she,
has she not given you ten Shillings? Yes,
says Susan:
And has she not given it you as her own Bounty,
Susan?
Yes,
says Susan:
Well,
says she,
'tis my Master's Money,
Susan,
which he sent in Pity to you;
for be said,
tho' you were justly punish'd, and tho' you had injur'd him, he wou'd not let you starve; and, he knows, this Creature has push'd on your Tryal with him,
as I said before,
as well as with me, and he shall own it to her Face.
This so stunn'd and stupify'd the
new
House-keeper, that she had not a Word to say; at which the Maid
Susan
first fell acrying, then flew upon her in a violent Rage, and fell a tearing the Cloaths off of her Back and Head; what!
She said,
had she serv'd her so? And after that (for the
old
Housekeeper stept in and took her off from her)
I say,
after that she told the
old House-keeper
the whole Story from the Beginning; and how all the Stories of watching their Master's Chamber-Door,
and the like,
came from this Creature; and,
in a Word,
that it was she that sent
Sasan
to the
Fleet
Prison, to rail at her (
the old House-keeper
) to her Husband, that he might take her away, or by affronting their Master, cause him to turn her off.
Now
the Saddle was set upon the right Mare;
and had not poor
Susan
had a terrible Whipping on her bare Back, she might have come off free, but that Part cou'd not be taken off again; however, they all parted in a kind of Wrath; the
old
House-keeper went directly to her Master's House, intending to have confronted her Adversary before her Master's Face; and the
new House-keeper
went the same way also, with Design to pack up her Cloaths, quarrel with her Master, and be gone; so to be out of the Reach of farther Mischief.
To the great Disappointment of the former, her Master was gone to
London,
and it being very uncertain whether he wou'd return at Night or no, and she so warm and eager that she cou'd not wait, so she resolv'd to go to his City House, and speak with him there; but she miss'd him there too, and at last heard he was gone to his Country House again; but then it was too late for her to go so far, so she was oblig'd to defer it 'till next Morning, resolving to be there before he was up.
But the
new House-keeper
had the better Luck, and she manag'd it wickedly enough, if she cou'd have carry'd it afterwards as she ought to have done; for her Master coming home, and she having thereby an Advantage to tell her Tale by herself, she boldly comes up to him, and desir'd to speak with him; so he went into a Parlour by himself, and call'd her in.
She was cunning enough to take hold of the Advantage which the Occasion put into her Hands, and which he knew not how to get off of; for she began with a Shower of bold Reproaches on him, for betraying his own Secret,
as she call'd it,
and exposing her to
Susan;
that he had sent to
Susan
by her Hands, but gave her Order to conceal his Name, and give it her in her own Name; and that then he had discover'd it to his Favourite Mrs. —, the
old House keeper,
and had sent her after, to tell
Susan
that it was his Money.
As I have said above,
this plung'd him a little, for it was so in Fact, and he knew not what to say to it; he was heartily vex'd that the
old Housekeeper
had acted so foolishly, or falsly, he did not well know which; and 'till he could see her, he scarce knew what to think of it all; but recollecting himself a little, and remembring what the other
Housekeeper
had told him, he found himself oblig'd to bring it out sooner than he intended, and to charge her downright with the Fact,
namely,
with being the Original of all the Noise that had been made in the House, and the Abuses both upon Mrs. — the
old Housekeeper,
and also upon himself; and yet that she had prompted both of them to prosecute poor
Susan,
when she was herself the Cause of it all; that
Susan
was but her Tool to kindle the Flame; and that all this was done to get the
old Housekeeper
out, and to get into her Place.
She pretended to be the more enflam'd at this; deny'd the thing with great Asseverations (for she knew
Susau,
who was her Accuser, was not at-hand) but threw back the Dirt of it in his Face with an unlucky Advantage, and impudently told him,
It seem'd truly now, not so unlikely to be true, as She had thought it had been,
that he was so great with his old House-keeper, and,
for ought She knew,
there might be something in it; seeing he held so close a Correspondence with her, that when he had entrusted her with a secret Errand, he shou'd go and discover it himself to that very Woman, and send such a Creature as that after her, to expose her; and that
there must be something more in it than ordinary,
that there was such a Confidence between them; that since it was so, she thought she had staid long enough among them, and that if he pleas'd to order her to be paid her Wages, she wou'd deliver up her Charge, and be gone, for she was resolv'd she wou'd not sleep another Night in his House, and he might go to Bed to his old Favourite as freely as ever, she wou'd not interupt him.
The Gentleman was really out done by her, for she had such a plausible Ground of Complaint, that he was confounded: However, tho' she had treated him with most provoking Language, yet he calmly
told her,
he had his particular Reasons for letting Mrs. — know what he had done, that yet he did not bid her go, and make it known to
Susan;
but if she had done so, he did not value it, and did not doubt but Mrs. — had some Reasons for what she had done too, which he shou'd know when he saw her, and he did not doubt also but she wou'd soon let him hear of it: It seems his House-keeper had been so nimble upon him (
for she was as sharp as a Hawk
) that she had not given him time to hear in the Family, that the old House-keeper had been there to speak with him, and was gone to
London
to seek him, as she had left Word.
But having calmly,
I say,
given her this Auswer, she continued the more sawcy, and grew insolent to the last Degree; boasted much of her being faithful and honest, and reproach'd him in such an unsufferable Manner with his secret Correspondence with the other House-keeper; that,
in short,
he was almost provok'd to kick her out of Doors; but he restrain'd his Anger, and did not touch her himself, but causing her Wages to be immediately paid her, and her Boxes and Trunks, or what she had in the House, given her, he caus'd her also to be turn'd out that very Hour, which was indeed what the cunning Jade wanted; and thus they parted with as much Resentment, as
Susan
and they had done before.
But when Mrs. —, the old House-keeper, came the next Morning, and gave the Gentleman an Account of the whole Story, as it really was, then he found he had been much in the wrong; that she had gain'd a Point of him, in letting her go so quietly away, and that heought to have sent her immediately to the House of Correction: He wou'd have retriev'd the Mistake, and sent to several Places in the Town to have stopt her again, but she had been in too much Haste to get away over-Night, to be taken hold of again in the Morning;
in a word,
she provided for her own Safety, and was fled.
She had indeed,
as I have said,
a vast Advantage over him in the first Part of the Story; I mean that which related to his sending the Money in the Woman's Name, and discovering the Secret to his
old House keeper;
and this Creature; who told her Tale afterward in the Street, told that Part of it so well, and so effectually kept it separate from the Reason of the Discovery, which was the Counter-part of the Fact, that,
in short,
all the Neighbours ran away with it, and it did more towards fixing a real Reproach upon the Gentleman himself, than all that had been done or said before; nor did the crafty Creature want Emissaries to support the Reflection, which she so diligently ply'd, and so artfully supported herself in, that it blacken'd the Gentleman, in a Manner never to be effectually wip'd off; tho' he was innocent, as an unborn Infant, of the Charge, or of any Appearance of it.
So dreadful a thing is Slander, on the Tongue of a subtle Instrument, and so much is the Reputation of the most innocent Person in the World at the Mercy of an insolent Servant, when turn'd away, be the Occasion ever so just.
Nor was the punishing this malicious Creature able, either to wipe off the Blot, or to stop her Mouth; some thought indeed he was in the wrong to pursue her, but having the Evidence of the Maid
Susan,
and of another, which she brought in against her, he at last taking hold of her by Accident, brought her to Justice, and had her lash'd as severely as
Susan
had been before her; but it had not so good an Effect upon her, as it had upon
Susan;
she went raving and railing ten times the more at him, and at the other House-keeper too, only by how much she had smarted for it before, she was now more wary of her Words, and spoke, tho' not with less Malice, yet with more Crafr, framing her Words so as that they cou'd not be taken hold of, and continued implacably bent to ruin the Reputation of the Gentleman as much as possible; and this way of abusing her Master was as fatal and mischievous to him, tho' not so dangerous to her, as the other, nor was there any Remedy for it but Patience; so vile a thing is the Tongue of an insolent Servant, when punish'd for their Disorders; and this is one of the things which we want a Law against in
England,
and which is one of the Reasons of my giving you this Story; for if there is no Method taken better to curb their insolent Tongues, when turn'd away, all the Masters and Mistresses in
England
will in a little while stand in Awe of their Servants, or be at the Mercy of them, which is much at one.
I am,
&c.
LETTER IX.
Dear Brother,
I HIS comes to acknowledge the Favour of Your's, of the 10th, in Answer to my Last, in which, I observe, you suggest two things as Doubts, upon the Accounts I gave you of the Insolence, and unsufferable Pride of Servants in this Country.
1. You say, that certainly the English must be very cruel, arbitrary, and (which is still worse) unreasonable Masters, or
2. Surely England has no Laws of Subordination in Force, for the particular Regulation of Servants, for securing their Obedience, and stating what is, or is not their Duty.
I confess, 'tis very rational to suggest in general, that there must be something or other uncommon, that shou'd be the Reason of such things as these; that it is not thus in other Nations; and that Servants are more at Command, and more subject to their Masters, or more easily to be punish'd in other Countries; and that if it is not so here, there must be some Reason to be assign'd for it, and that you think one of these must be the Case.
But as I know you will bear with my Freedom, I take the Liberty to say, particularly as to these two things you are entirely mistaken; and,
First,
as to the Behaviour of Masters to Servants; I hope you will allow, (to avoid frequent Repetitions) that when I say
Masters,
I shou'd be understood to mean Mistresses as well as Masters, for they stand in the same Place, in Point of Argument.
And,
First,
the contrary is true to an Extream, and it is partly to the Account of this very thing I place the first Rise of the Insolence of Servants; 'tis so far from being owing to the ill Usage of Servants by their Masters, that the unseasonable Lenity, Kindness, and Tenderness to Servants in this Country, is the very Cause of it:
In a Word,
as I may truly say, that the poor know not what it is to be Servants, so the Rich,
I must acknowledge,
know not how to be Masters.
I remember a Passage of the famous Colonel
Kirk,
who commanded a Regiment of
English
Soldiers in the
French
Service, and was fam'd for his Severity of Discipline: He had order'd a Sergeant to correct a private Centinel for some Error in his Exercise, when he was seeing the Regiment handle their Arms; go and knock that Dog down,
says the Colonel;
the Sergeant believing the Colonel meant, that he shou'd cane him only, did it very severely; when he had done it, the Colonel call'd the Sergeant to him; when he came, lend me your Halbert,
says the Colonel,
which the Sergeant did very submissively; look here,
says the Colonel,
I'll shew you how to knock a Soldier down, and with the Words, knock'd the poor Fellow down with his own Halbert: It is true,
Kirk
was said to be too unmerciful and severe, but on the other-hand, he had the best disciplin'd Regiment in the whole
English
Body, which consisted of five Brigades; he was faithfully serv'd, and if he had commanded his Men to have jump'd into the Fire, they wou'd certainly have done it.
They have a Proverbial Saying in this Country, which, they say, was taken from the late Usurper
Oliver Cromwell,
who his worst Enemies acknowledge to be a good Soldier; they tell us that it was his Saying, that to have a good Army you must
hang well
and
pay well;
and his known, that his own Regiment (which wore white Cloaths and were call'd
Cromwel's Lambs,
) wou'd follow him thro' Fire and Water, never were known to turn their Backs in the Field, but had cut in Pieces many a Regiment of the best Cavalry the King had; while at the same time, 'tis said, he had first or last pistol'd three of them with his own Hand, when they had mutiny'd upon some Occasion or other, and refus'd to march.
There is since that, another Proverbial Saying upon the very Subject I am upon,
namely, That the
English
are the best Masters, and the worst Servants in the World:
If I were to invert that Saying, I wou'd place it thus,
That the
English
have the uneasiest Servants, because they are the easiest Masters in the World: In a Word,
as I hinted just now, we may say,
that in
England
the
Rich
know not how to be Masters, and therefore the
Poor
know not how to be Servants.
There is a Town in
Hertfordsbire,
not far from
London,
of which they say,
That there is no-body
Poor
enough to keep the
Town-Hogs,
or
Rich
enough to keep a
Hog-herd: This Town is an Emblem of the Country it self, but especially of the Poor, and 'tis very much to the present Purpose, for tho' the Poor are too low to keep a Servant, yet they are generally too high to be Servants themselves.
I cannot say, that the
English
are the best Masters in the World, but that they are the easiest, kindest, tenderest Masters to Servants,
that is certainly true,
and this is certainly the true Reason of the Mischief I am speaking of;
In a Word,
as a slack Rein in Government encourages Factions and Rebellions, so
easy Masters
make
sawcy Servants;
the Master that will bear to be impos'd upon shall be impos'd upon; nay, I have heard some say, he that will be insulted ought to be insulted; I will not say so, because 'tis an Ingratitude in the Servant, but I must allow it is an unpardonable Folly, and Mistake in the Master.
I have often disguiss'd myself for this purpose, and mingl'd in among the Mob of such Fellows as those, who we call Footmen; I have convers'd with them over a Mug of
Porter,
as they call their Alehouse Beer and Ale; and there how have I heard them boast over their Master's Kindness to them, and how they cou'd do any-thing they pleas'd? that they valued not their Masters a Shilling, and that they durst not be angry with them; that if they did quarrel, d— 'em they wou'd be gone, and their Master cou'd not do without 'em.
One Fellow
was talking thus, and I entred into a short Dialogue with him about it; I ask'd him what his Master wou'd say to him if he got drunk, and if at another time he staid out all-Night,
and the like?
Say to me, says he, why, he wou'd swear at me, it may be.
Well,
says I,
and what then?
Why then,
says he,
I wou'd swear, it may be, as fast as he, and d— as fast he.
And it has been so then sometimes between you,
says I,
has it?
Yes, very often,
says he:
Well, but that was when you was drunk,
says I,
wa'n't it?
Yes,
said he:
But next Morning,
says I,
how was it with you both then?
O,
says he,
my Master wou'd be a little surly, and it may be, not speak for a good while, and I wou'd take no Notice of it, but go about my Affairs, as I use to do;
and he
wou'd come-to again in a Day or two; but if he took any Notice, I wou'd tell him I had got a little Drink;
that I did not remember I was rude,
if I was, I was very sorry,
but I was in Drink,
and the like.
Well, and what then,
said I?
O,
said he,
I knew one good Word wou'd pacify him, and he wou'd be pleas'd presently, for my Master is the easiest good-natur'd Man in the World.
Very well,
says I,
that is to say, your Master is the easiest Fool in the World:
Nay,
says he,
I cannot deny but my Master is
easy,
and that makes his Servants all play upon him, as they do:
Why,
says I,
do you not own you are very much oblig'd to your Master, for being so goodhumour'd?
Yes,
says he,
but I must own I don't make him a bit the better Servant for that:
How do you mean,
says I,
not a bit better?
Mean!
says he,
why, I am the easier to be drunk again, and to swear at him again,
because
I know for a Word speaking I can make it all up again; and then be drunk again, and ask Pardon again,
and so on.
Well, but,
said I, Jack,
you must own you are a Dog, an ungrateful Dog to him, to impose upon his good Nature in that Manner?
I don't value that a Farthing,
says Jack,
if my Master is a Fool, it's the better for me, is it not; then I can be Master when I please?
But have you a good Place too,
Jack, said I?
Yes,
said he,
a very good Place:
Well, then,
says I,
why don't you behave better,
Jack,
that you may not lose it?
No, no,
says he,
my Master does not love to change Faces, he can't abide to put away Servants; we may do any-thing, and say any-thing, if we do but give him a good Word the next Day, and say we beg his Pardon, all is over with him presently.
Well,
says I,
and are not you all the better Servants for that?
No, no, says he, but much the worse, for there's scarce a Day in the Week, but one or other
of us give ourselves a loose, for we know we can make it up again with a Word.
Prithee,
Jack, said I,
where did you learn this Principle of Honesty and Gratitude?
O,
says he,
'tis not so much Ingratitude,
but
'tis Policy; an easy Master must be us'd so,
and
we fare never the worse for it,
for
we keep him at Bay by it, he expects no other.
Well but,
Jack, says I,
if you were a Master, wou'd you take it of a Servant, wou'd you be such an easy Master?
O,
says
Jack,
that's quite another Case;
no, no, what, do you take me for, a Fool?
Well, but how wou'd you act,
says I?
How,
says he!
D— 'em, I'd see my Business done, and have it done at a Word, or I'd make my Cane walk among them.
Well but,
says I,
what if your Servant d— as fast as you,
as you said just now,
and hector'd you, as you say you do your Master, what wou'd you do then?
Do,
says he!
I'd make 'em fly me as a Pidgeon does a Hawk;
I'd open the Door, and kick 'em out
and bid 'em go to the Devil.
Very well, and they wou'd go, I suppose,
said I,
and the next wou'd be the same, and so on.
Why then,
says he,
I wou'd turn the next away in the same Manner,
and so on as you say,
'till I bad a good Servant, if I turn'd off a hundred in a Year.
And do you think then,
said I,
that this kind treating of his Servants is a Fault in your Master, and that you are all the worse for it?
AY, most certainly,
said he,
and he will never have a good Servant while he does so;
a Fool-Master always makes a Rogue-Servant;
I'll tell you a Story,
says
Jack,
and so he begins, as follows.
'There was a poor honest Master Weaver in our Country kept several Apprentices, and (as I suppose) being poor, and having but little House-room, he and his Apprentices lay all in a Chamber together, tho' not all in a Bed; one Night his Master being gone to Bed, in cold Winter Weather, and the Candle out, feeling a cold Wind come in somewhere, calls to his Boy thus,
Jack,
says the Master;
That is the Way of Servants replying, or answering in the Country, when they are call'd; as to say
Sir,
or
Madam,
is to answer a Call in these Parts about
London.
Ay,
Master, says
Jack: I believe that Window is open, Jack,
says the Master:
I believe it is Master,
says
Jack;
so they lay still awhile. By-and-by the Master feeling the Cold still, calls again,
Jack: Ay, Master,
says
Jack: The Wind blows very cold at that Window, Jack,
says the Master:
Ay, so it does, Master,
says
Jack:
Some time after, the Master finding the Boy did'nt stir, calls again;
Jack,
says he:
Ay, Master,
says
Jack: Wou'd that Window was shut,
Jack;
ay, wou'd it was Master,
says
Jack;
but still
Jack
did'nt stir: By this time the Master's Patience was spent, and feeling the Cold come in at the Window still, he rouzes up himself like a Man;
Why, Jack,
says he?
Ay, Master,
says
Jack
again very impudently:
You lazy Son of a Whore,
says the Master,
why don't you rise and shut the Window there?
Must I come and rouze you?
Get up you Dog, and shut the Window, Yes, Master,
says
Jack, now you speak in earnest;
so he gets up, and shuts the Window, and all was well.
And this,
says I,
is the true Picture of you Servants, is it?
Yes, indeed,
says he,
it is so all over the Nation, and will be so; while Masters act without the Authority of Masters, Servants will never shew the Submission and Obedience of their Place.
And you learnt it of
Jack,
did you,
said I?
Yes,
says he,
that was my first Lesson, indeed, but I am improv'd since by farther Examples.
And pray,
said I,
what is that you call
improv'd?
Why,
says he,
to do as little Work as I can, to get into good Company as soon as ever my Master's Back's turn'd.
Ay,
said I,
to come home drunk, and be sawcy too, is that a Part of it?
Why, as to that,
says he,
it will happen so sometimes, but that's nothing; I do well enough with my Master for that, for give him but a good Word again,
when I come to myself,
all is over with him presently.
Ay,
said I,
and that encourages you to do so again, perhaps, the next Opportunity that offers.
Why, truly,
says he,
in all Difficulties, when Folks come off easy, they are the forwarder to venture again: We had a great deal of Discourse more besides this; I feign'd my self to be a Servant too, but that I had a very severe strict Master, that wou'd not bear with a Servant being absent from his Business; that if any of the Servants were heard to swear, it was with the greatest Intercession imaginable that they avoided being turn'd away; but if once they got drunk, they had no more to do, but strip, and be gone; off with their Livery, take their Wages, and out of Doors; they had as good go voluntarily as stay to be turn'd out, for I assure you,
said I,
my Master never gave a Servant Occasion to be drunk twice in his Service.
That's very hard,
says he;
why any poor Servant may be overtaken, and not design it.
It's all one,
says I,
our Master makes it so stated a Rule in the Family, that it is no Hardship, because all the Servants know it as soon as they come into the House.
Well,
says he,
and you are all sober Dogs, ar'n't you? Pray what kind of Servants has your Master? are they good for any-thing?
All very good Servants, I assure you,
said I, except myself.
Nay,
says he,
it is certainly the only way, your Master is in the right of it,
to be sure,
and none but such Masters will have good Servants; but I wou'd not live with him if he wou'd give me double Wages, for all that.
Why, wou'd you not restrain yourself to have a good Place?
Not I,
says he,
'tis not the Way among Servants at this time; I have been us'd to be Master wherever I have been, and I can't bear those strict Orders of Families, not I; Confinement won't do with me, I must drink with my old Friends sometimes.
Well, so do we too,
said I,
for if we ask Leave, we are never deny'd; he is as civil and kind
that way,
to us, as we can desire; only we must keep our time when we promise to return, and not come home Drunk; and I do not see any great Harm in that, not I.
No Harm in it!
says he;
why 'tis making a Jail of his House, such a Service would be
Bridewell
to me; I wou'd as lieu beat Hemp,
says he,
every jot, and then he pour'd out two or three G—d d—mn him's at such a Master; but all the way he own'd that they were the Masters that got good Servants; only that he wou'd not serve any Man in
England
upon such Terms, not he, for he wou'd have his Liberty, ay that he wou'd.
From this short Discourse between this Fellow and I, you may see the state of the Case,
in sbort,
that 'tis the Easiness and Kindness of Masters in
England
that has ruin'd the Servants; you will say indeed, 'tis a Token of a prodigious Baseness in the Minds of the Poor of this Country, that they may be forc'd by Discipline, but are not to be oblig'd by Kindness, and that,
said he,
cannot be help'd.
Among the civil Usage giveu to Servants in
England,
I must place the Privileges they have in their Places: The Huntsmen have their Field-Money, and are allow'd to carry out the Hounds upon all Occasions, to gratify the Gentlemen round,
that is to say,
to get their Field-Money.
The Game-keepers are trusted with Powers to take away Guns and Dogs from the meaner People, and they abuse the Trust,
as you shall hear,
and the Game too.
Head-Carters and upper-Plowmen are often sent to Market, and entrusted both to buy and to sell,
and you shall hear how they improve.
Your Coachmen have Privileges of their own making,
namely,
of having Compliments from the Tradesmen,
that is to say,
all those who supply you with things needful to the Equigage; such as the Coachmaker, Harnessmaker, Corn-chandler, Farrier,
&c.
and the like is the Case with all the Stewards, Butlers,
&c.
These are Advantages which our Gentlemen in
France
are too wise to put into the Hands of Mercenaries and Scoundrels, such as many times have them here; I assure you 'tis far from obliging these Gentlemen,
as they call themselves,
who I am talking of; far from engaging them to be more faithful to their Masters, more careful of their Masters Interest, or more affectionate to their Service;
on the contrary,
it fills their Pockets with Money, and that ill-gotten too; so that it eats a Hole into their Consciences, and makes them scruple no Villany to encrease it; that Money makes them proud, insolent, and unsufferable within-Doors, and drunken and wicked without-doors: But let me take them in their several Capacities acting to these Principles, and consider them apart.
Your Huntsman, if you do not give him Leave to take the Hounds out when he pleases, and can get Company, shall take care you shall have little Sport enough when you go out your self; nay, he shall batter your Horses, baulk your Hounds, and show you no Sport, or to be sure kill you nothing; while at the same time, he turns Poacher for the unfair Sportsmen, and shall show them a Hare sitting as often as they please, for the usual Bribe of
a Schilling:
If you find him out, and make a Fault of it, he turns short upon you, and tells you saucily,
It is his Fees, or Vails,
(as they call it here)
and if you wou'd Hunt in Company, as other Gentlemen do, that the Huntsman might get his Field-Money, he wou'd not do so;
Field-Money is Money given by all the Gentlemen in the Field where they are hunting, as often as they find a Hare fitting.
that is to say, he wou'd have you keep a Pack of Hounds, like my Lord-Mayor, not for your self, but for your Huntsman, that he may get all the young Rakes round the Country, and all the loose People he can, into the Field, and hunt what, and where, and how they bid him, for the meer sake of his
Field-Money,
which they call the Huntsman's Fees; till they beat out the Hounds, and hackney them till they are good for little or nothing; and if you will not do that, you shall,
as above,
go out two or three Days together perhaps, and have no Sport your self; kill nothing, nay perhaps, find nothing, while your Huntsman, who at the same time knows of a Brace or two of Hares sitting, shall on purpose to miss of them, draw quite another Way; if you happen to dislike, and bid him go this or that Way, he'll tell you, he beat all that Ground in the Morning, before you came out; or perswade you, that he knows where there is a Hare that way that he is beating, and so draw you off from the Game that he is not willing you shou'd find, till you are thorowly fatigu'd, and your Horses too; and if he lets you kill one single Hare, you are to take it for a great Favour.
The next is your Ranger, or Park-keeper: It is his Business not only to range the Park, and see that the Pale is in repair, and the Covert in order, but to preserve the Deer; and he has several large Privileges; some, when any Deer is kill'd for his Master's House; but greater, when any Presents are made of Deer alive, or of Venison; and these Advantages make the Keeper's Place a very good thing.
But instead of being the more faithful, unless you consider him extraordinary, and every now-and-then give him Leave to sell a fat Buck for you, to some great Feast,
and the like,
you shall feel the Consequence of it; for you shall have the Park never fail of being robb'd three or four times in every Season, and the best Bucks carry'd off, four or five Brace at a time: Then to solve his own Credit, he has the Impudence to accuse several of the young Fellows round the Country, who know nothing at-all of the Matter; and if any of them cannot give a good Account of themselves, they are at least, loaded with a Scandal, and render's suspected not only there, but to all the Gentlemen in the Country; when at the same time your Keeper has Horses sent to fetch the Venison, by his own Order, and as punctually as his Master himself, from certain Pastry-Cooks, and sly Merchants in
London,
who deal in such Goods; and perhaps you chance, if you come to
London,
to give a couple of Guineas to some or other of them, for a Haunch of your own Venison: On the other hand, if in the Country you want any Venison for your own Table, or to make a Present of to any neighbouring Gentlemen, your Park keeeper shall tell you, there is very little fit for your Use, and that if you kill any more 'till next Season, you will spoil your Park.
This is so known a Practice, that I need but converse with a few Gentlemen in the Neighbourhood of this City, and I might furnish you with a great many diverting Stories upon this Subject; and two or three Park-keepers are, I think, at this very time in Prison for such Rogueries.
This indeed may be said to be a kind of Thieving, and so not to come directly into the Subject I am upon; but as it is one of these Sorts of Thieving, which the Servants of this Age will not allow to be Robbery, I place it rather upon the insolent Temper of the Men; for 'tis certain, those that trade with them in this wicked Trade, call it nothing but a Love of Sport, and to have an honest Keeper or two befriend them in it; but the Laws are of late more severe in this Case than formerly, and we shall ('tis hop'd) find some Examples made e'er long, of which I shall not fail to give you an Account.
But I return to the Villany which more immediately respects the Persons of their Masters: The next is the Game keeper, or as it was call'd formerly, the
Falconer.
Your Game keeper shall lead you about, with your Dogs and your Nets, and hardly shew you a Covey of Birds, in riding over a whole Lordship: At the same time he is under Contract with the Higglers, for so many Dozen of Partridges in the Season, which he supplies by going out in the Night with a Pair of
Trammels,
with which he kills all the Birds about your Estate.
If you send him out with your Gun, he shall go about all the Morning, and (perhaps) send you home a Hen Pheasaut, and at the same time send all the rest to Market; if he shoots a Woodcock or two now and then, or a Snipe, you must count it a Rarety, while at the same time he sets his Snares in all the springy swampy Places in the Woods, and near you, and takes from five to ten Brace in a Night.
In a Word,
while the Gentlemen in the Parliament House are making Laws to preserve the Game, their own Servants are the greatest
Poachers
in the Country; and under Pretence of killing the Game for their Masters, they make a Property of the Sport, and supply the Hucksters and Carriers with all kinds of Fouls, which the Law forbids them to touch.
It was on this very Account, that the Gentlemen found it necessary to get farther Laws made for preserving the Game, and particularly one which forbids, upon severe Penalties, any Partridges, Pheasants, Quails,
&c.
being sold in the Shops or Markets; or by any Higlers, Poulterers, or such Persons whatsoever; but notwithstanding that, and even in Spight of Laws and Penalties, the Trade goes on still.
By this Means all the Laws for preserving the Game are only made Laws for raising the Price of the Game in the Poulterer's Shops; for as 'tis a kind of contraband Trade, they drive it on clandestinely, and under-hand; but Hares, Partridges, Pheasants,
&c.
are to be bought now as easily as before, only they make the Buyer pay double Price; and whereas a good Hare might have been bought before for a Shilling or eighteen Pence, now they will have four or five Shillings for it, but still the Game is as much destroy'd as before.
From these very modest Fellows come we next to the Plowmen and Carters, Husbandmen, and the like.
Suppose you now to be a Gentleman in
England,
that keeping Part of your Estate in your own Hands, keep also a Head Carter, or Baily, to manage your Team of Horse, see your Land plow'd, order the Cows, the Sheep,
and the like;
the Servants are all under this Man, as the Director of their Labour; he orders them when to plow, when to sow, and in what Places; how, and where, and when the Sheep are to be folded, the Calves and Lambs suckled, the Fat Cattle sold off, and all such things; and sometimes he is trusted so far, as to be sent to Market to sell what is to be dispos'd of: In all which he understands his Business to be, that no-body shall cheat you but himself; while you are easy at all he does he is easy with you too, because he makes his Market of you, but if you straiten him, and pretend to look after him, his Manners are all vanish'd on a sudden, and he is as sour and surly you scarce know how to speak to him.
If you anger him, or find Fault with his Management, he shall in his Passion whip your Horses, starve your fatting Swine, suckle other Men's Calves with your Cows, and carry on your Affairs with a general Neglect, 'till you give him some kind Words again, and so make him Satisfaction, by putting it into his Power to cheat you again (if it be possible) worse than he did before.
Every Market-Day, 'tis suppos'd, you send him to Market with something or other of the Produce of the Farm; 'tis not worth your while to go (perhaps) 7 or 8 Miles, to sell a Score of Sheep, or a Couple of incalv'd Cows, or a Load of wheat or Barley; but
Thomas,
the Carter, goes to Market with them, and when he returns, he very honestly tells you he sold them for
so much;
when 'tis very ordinary to have him sell them for 40
s.
in 10
l.
more than he gives you an Account of: If you dare but suppose, that they might sell for more, he begins with you (for Thieves are always the first to cry out of being suspected) he tells you, that he wonders your Worship will not take the Trouble to go to Market yourself; that he wou'd much rather you wou'd go, and see every thing sold to your Mind; that he wou'd go with all his Heart, and stand in the Market, you need but be at the Tavern hard by, and he wou'd bring every Chapman to you, and your Worship might make your own Bargains, take the Money yourself, and so be satisfy'd that you are not cheated; that he thinks nothing of the Trouble of going to Market, but hates the trust of it, for that if the Markets run low, it always makes a poor Servant be suspected.
All this while going to Market is his only Aim, and he is undone if he does not; and yet if you went yourself, unless it were without him too, he wou'd cheat you to your Face, and whisper a low Price to the Buyer, tho' he shar'd the Profit with him; and so cheat you of 40
s.
to get but 20 of it for himself.
I wou'd not load innocent Men willingly, but this I may venture to say,
viz.
That such is the Degeneracy of the Servants of this Country, that,
in short,
except here and there an extraordinary Servant,
and I scarce know where that extraordinary Man is to be found;
I say, except such an extraordinary one, no Gentleman can send his Servant with Corn or Cattle to Market, but he shall be cheated.
It is but the very Week these Sheets were writing that a Gentleman of my Acquaintance, living in the Country, sent up about 50 Load of Hay to
London
by Water, to sell, entrusting a Man to sell it for him, intending to send a much greater Quantity, Hay being this Year between three and four Pound
per
Load, at
London
Market.
His Servant gave him an Account of the first ten Load, as sold ten Shillings
per
Load cheaper than (as he found by neighbouring Farmers) Hay was sold for those very Market Days; this made him Master of so much Jealousy, as to set a more faithful Person, as a Spy, to watch his Servant at the Market, and (if possible) to inform himself how he sold; by the means of this Intelligence he arriv'd to a Discovery, that his Servant had put 10
s. per
Load in his Pocket, out of every Load of Hay of the whole Parcel, having sold it for so much more than he gave his Master an Account of; and the doing himself Justice upon this fraudulent Servant is now upon his Hands.
Again, come to the Plowman, and meer labouring Husbandman; if he sows in the Field, or threshes in the Barn, he will cheat you of your Corn, even to your Face: A Country Farmer that I knew, employ'd a poor Man to thresh Wheat in his Barn, and every Evening, to prevent his being cheated, look'd upon the Heap of Corn, lock'd up the Barn-Doors, and sent the poor Thresher home to his Cottage, seeing him out himself, that he might be sure he was not wrong'd.
But one Day, having some Suspicion of his Man, he took Occasion to send the Thresher out in a Hurry, telling him there were Hogs gotten into a Close newly sow'd with Wheat, and which lay near the Barn; when the Man was gone, he makes that an Opportunity to search about the Barn, and in a Corner of the Mow, he finds hid a
little leather Bag,
with about half a peck of Wheat in it; he took no Notice, nor did he remove the Bag, but cuts a little Bit out of it, with a pair of Scissars, towards the top, so that the Corn wou'd not run out, that he might know his Bag again, and leaves it as he found it: At Night he dismiss'd the Thresher, as usual, who walk'd away; but as soon as he was gone, the Master runs a nearer way, and meets him in a narrow Field which he knew he would go through, and finds the little Bag of Wheat upon his Head, carrying it Home, as he suppos'd.
He did not appear angry, or surpriz'd, atall, but after some other trifling Discourse,
he says to him,
and art thou going home directly? Yes,
says the Thresher;
and what hast thou got there,
Goodman Thomas? says the Farmer;
I doubt that's some of my Corn: The Fellow wou'd have denied it a little at first, but seeing himself discover'd, Why yes,
says he,
'tis some of the Sweepings of the Floor, but 'twas such a little,
said he,
I thought you wou'd not scruple such a small Parcel, 'tis nothing but what you would have thrown to the Poultry: Poultry!
Thomas, says the Farmer,
but my Poultry are my own, and they help to pay my Rent; I assure you, I thought you wou'd not have carried away any of my Corn.
Here
Goodman Thomas
began to be surly, seeing himself detected,
and said,
he never work'd for any Master before, that wou'd not give him a handful of Corn for his Cocks and Hens: Well but
Goodman Thomas,
and so perhaps wou'd l,
says the Farmer,
if you had assk'd me, but I don't love to have it taken without my Leave: The Fellow grumbl'd, and began to be sawcy, and offer'd to go: Well, well,
Goodman Thomas, says the Farmer,
I expect you'll bring it back-again in the Morning when you come to Work.
Next Morning he came to Work; but when the Farmer ask'd for the Bag of Corn,
Goodman Thomas
made light of it,
and said,
he hop'd he wou'd not stand with him for such a small Matter: No,
Goodman Thomas, said the Farmer,
if you will ingenuously own how often you have done so; how often,
says Thomas,
why as often as we want it at home, I always take a little for our Baking: Why Master,
says he,
don't all the Threshers for you, do the same? I hope not,
says the Farmer;
I assure you, they that Thresh for me, shall not, if I can help it: Well, well,
says Goodman Thomas,
see where you'll get a Man to Thresh for you, that don't do it: I thought it no Crime, not I, and so laugh'd it off, and his Master forgave him, but dismiss'd him from his Work.
But Goodman
Thomas
's Words were all made good, for as this made the Farmer more jealous, and consequently more careful, the next three Threshers he hir'd, he took them all in the same Fact; with this Difference only, that as
Thomas
stole under half a Peck, one of them stole a Bushel at a time, and the other Two about half as much each: So hard is it to get a Servant now, but will not only defraud you, and cheat you, but like Goodman
Thomas,
grin and laugh in your Face when they are discover'd, and think it very hard to be restrain'd; or huff and insult you, and tell you, 'tis no Crime; that 'tis their Fees, and they expect it; and that they wou'd not work with you for such Wages, if it was not for the other Advantages they make.
And it is on this Account that I name the Behaviour of these sort of Servants, I mean Husbandmen; for it is the same Pride and and Insolence by which the Footmen and Houshold-Servants are made sawcy, that the other are made thievish and dishonest; and this is what we must expect will follow in time, among all the rest of our Servants; for when once they grow sawcy and impudent, they will not be long before they grow Thieves, 'tis a natural Consequence of the thing; for when once Servants are arriv'd to a Contempt of their Masters Persons, they can never be suppos'd to have a sincere Regard to their Interest; and if they come to be regardless of their Interest, they will soon come to have the same Disregard to their Property.
There is a kind of a Contest in
England
between Masters and Servants, which I never met with any-where else, concerning Honesty, and the Servants here have as odd a Notion of Honesty, as really they have of Liberty; and this false Notion of Honesty is such, that,
in short,
it makes Thieves of half the Servants in
England,
and yet at the same time, they have the Impudence to call themselves very honest Fellows, and wou'd think it very hard to be denied a Character as such, when they go from you: You see Goodman
Thomas
thought taking a little Wheat for his Family, for their baking, was no Dishonesty, 'twas what every-body did, and why shou'd not he do it as well as another?
I mention'd the honest thieving of their Time before, which they think nothing of; their making their Masters pay for those Hours which they spend at the Alehouse to get drunk,
I need not repeat it,
that is one.
Leaving their Masters, and running from their Work when there is the greatest Necessity of their Service, is another: I knew a poor Farmer had his three Men-Servants run from him in the Prime of his Harvest, being got into Company, and drunk, and left the poor Man destitute of Hands to get in his Corn.
A Soldier deserting his Colours, especially in time of Service, is shot to Death, without Mercy, and reason good, because the Safety of his
King
and
Country
is betray'd by his deserting, as much as it is possible for him to betray it.
A Servant who hires himself to a poor Farmer, to do his Business, and runs from him in Harvest, as much as in him lies betrays him, and ruins him; and this very thing is so notoriously practis'd at this time, and is so much a Grievance, that the Parliament, since my writing these Letters, have it under Consideration to oblige Servants to perform their Agreement, and stay out the Year; and to empower the Justices of Peace, and proper Officers, to punish fugitive Servants; and I doubt not but we shall soon have a very severe Law upon that Subject.
But of this hereafter.
I am,
&c.
LETTER X.
Dear Sir,
I Intended in this Letter to have enter'd into the great Article of the Behaviour of Women Servants, which, I assure you, is at this time grown up to be as great a Grievance as the other; and I have by me several little Histories of their Behaviour; particularly with respect to the Havock they make of the Reputation of the Families they live in; their Pride, haughty and insolent Behaviour; gay dressing, and profusion of Cloathing; by which it is now become frequent in middling Families, that the Chambermaids have better Laces, and finer Silks than the Mistresses, and it is not easie to know the Servants from the Daughters of a Family; and some of these little Histories wou'd have pleas'd you very well: As particularly of a Gentleman in a Visit lately at a House of good Fashion, who being recommended to one of the Gentleman's Daughters, mistook the Chambermaid for her who was design'd for his Mistress, and unhappily stepping up to her, saluted her first, which Misfortune cost him the loss of his Mistress, and the impudent Wench the loss of her Place.
I shou'd also have furnish'd you with some very good Accounts of the Disasters of three of four several Ladies of Fortune, sold, or rather deliver'd into the Hands of Scoundrels, by their
Maid-Servants;
the Ladies wheedl'd in to marry them, as Fortunes, and the Wenches impudently assisting the Ravishers, for they cou'd be call'd little less, to violate that Honour which was with too easie a Confidence put into their Hands; one of which
She Devils
we have since seen deservedly brought to the Gallows
I shou'd likewise have diverted you with the over-and-above Insolence of
Female Servants
in the Duty of their Family-Business, very proper for the Information of the
Senior
Ladies, and for their
Caution
in the managing such
Creatures,
and for their
Conduct
when it is their Lot;
as
whose is it not sometimes, to be afflicted with sawcy and insolent Servants?
But I am already swell'd to a Bulk beyond my Expectation, and must forbear dwelling any longer upon this Part, however entertaining it may be: The
Contents
of my last Letter brings me necessarily back to that Part of your Enquiry which respects the Laws which we have in
England
against this Evil, and how those Laws are put in Execution: I remember your Words were, That surely we are deficient in
England
in point of Regulation; and that we want good Laws to secure the due
Subordination
of the People; you insinuate, that it cou'd not be, that Servants cou'd thus set up to be Masters, and govern even the Masters themselves, and their Families also, as it is apparent they do, if we had Laws sufficient to enforce their Obedience, or if those Laws for enforcing Obedience, were sufficiently observ'd, or duly executed.
My Answer indeed is, That our Deficiency is double.
1. That the Laws now in Force are not sufficient; the Laws are good, but 'tis long since they were made; the Circumstances of things are alter'd in the Nation; the way of living is alter'd; the Rate of Things advanc'd; Wages are higher; Pride encreas'd; Vice grown rampant; Drunkenness (which is the Ruin of Servants) broke in like a Flood; Good-Manners declin'd;
and in a Word,
all Sence of
Subordination
is lost among us.
2. Those Laws which we have, and which are in Force, are ill executed; Magistrates are degenerated in themselves, and Vice is crept in, even on the Bench; so that it is not so easie to get the Drunkenness and Debaucheries of the Poor discountenanc'd and punish'd, as it wou'd be if the Magistrates were untainted with the
Crimes
they are to punish.
3. But lastly, which is yet worse, the very
Masters
and
Mistresses
of Families themselves, by their Remissness in taking legal Remedies against the Insolence of Servants, and against their refusing to serve and submit to their said
Masters
and
Mistresses,
as the Law directs, is the great,
and indeed,
the chief Reason why the
Laws
have not their due Effect upon the lower
Class
of Mankind, and why a
due Subordination
is not preserv'd between
Master
and
Servant,
as the Law directs.
But you will be agreeably surpriz'd, when I shall tell you, that all this, and not this only, but all that I have already said upon the Subject of
Servants,
is confirm'd by the Parliament which is now sitting, having taken this very Matter into their Consideration, and thinking it worth their while to inspect the Laws which are now in Being between
Masters
and
Servants,
in order to a new Regulation, and in order to making those
Laws
more effectual.
It is evident that the Legislature sees the Necessity of rectifying this Matter; they see that the Rudeness and Insolence of
Servants
is an unsufferable Burthen; that it is become so general, as to deserve the Name of
a National Grievance,
and to call for an additional Force of Law to suppress it.
In this the Parliament acts as the antient
Romans,
who, when their
Slaves
rebell'd, resolv'd to arm themselves with Whips, for their Correction, rather than with Swords, to subdue them by Conquests, scorning to attack them on the equal foot of Soldiers, and Men of Honour; or to let it be said, that they stoop'd to the Fear of their Arms; but went out arm'd against them as a base and Scoundrel Race, whose Spirits were levell'd to their Condition, and knew not how to shew their Faces to those who they us'd to tremble at before.
Thus our Parliament here, in
England,
have acted in this
Case;
for the Law is a Whip for the Offender; the Authority of the
Lictor
is arm'd with these Rods and Axes, and supported by the Magistrate; and the base, rebelling, insulting Servant is order'd to remember his proper Station, and look that he behaves with due Obedience to his Superiour, or to expect the Correction which his Insolence deserves.
This coming at the very Juncture of my writing these Letters, gives a very satisfactory Sanction to my Opinion,
viz.
That the Grievance was flagrant, and that I was not giving you the Trouble of writing to you on a Subject which was trifling, and not worth Notice; I shall therefore stop here for the present, and wait a-while, till we see what sufficient Provision the Parliament will make in this Exigence for preserving the Government of our Families from the Encroachments and Usurpation of our Servants; for really, as things are now, Masters, or Heads of Families, are no more Masters;
Subordination
seems to be at a
Crisis,
and the Government is shar'd between the Head and the Tail, the Master and his hir'd Servant; the last receives the Wages indeed, but the Work is done when and how the hir'd Gentlemen please to perform; and if they think fit, 'tis often not done at-all.
I shall give you here, as a Conclusion to the whole Work, a Representation which has been prepar'd, for the Instruction of, and due Caution to the House-keepers of
Great-Britain,
in this very needful Case; I dare say you will be pleas'd with the Sight of it, because it offers something towards a Remedy of this flagrant Mischief; and which, if the Advice is taken, we may be in Hopes, that in Conjunction with the new Provision now making in the Parliament,
Servants
may in a little time be brought to their Senses again, be made to know themselves a little, and the Peace and due Government of Families may be again restor'd.
THE CONCLUSION.
BEING AN Earnest and Moving Remonstrance TO THE Housekeepers of
Great-Britain,
In Order to The better Regulating the Manners of Their
Servants.
Gentlemen and Ladies,
'AS the Insolence of your Servants is your great Grievance, and gives you daily Offence, so I cannot but believe, 'tis very agreeable to you, to hear that the Parliament has at length taken this Matter into their Consideration.
This is an unanswerable Testimony of not the Necessity of the Remedy only, but also of the Weight and Oppression of the Disease; that the Complaint is not trifling, or the Subject too mean to be concern'd about: We read, that in
Athens,
in
Sparta,
and also in
Rome,
but especially in the former, the due Subjection of Servants was always thought worthy the Care of the Commonwealth; even the Diet and the Habits of Servants were provided for in
Licurgus
his Institutions; the first he provided for, that the poor might not be oppress'd, and the latter, that they might not forget that they were Servants.
I. He provided, that the Masters shou'd feed their Servants sufficiently, that their Strength might be supported for their Labour; and then he provided that the Servants shou'd wear a particular Badge of their Servitude, that they might be known, upon all Occasions, to be what they were, namely
Servants. N.B.
This was for hir'd Servants, not Slaves.
Whether our Parliament will think fit to go this Length, I know not; but this I may appeal to yourselves for, that if they do not distinguish the Servants from the Masters and Mistresses, the Masters and Mistresses must find some Ways to distinguish themselves from their Servants, or (
as already frequently happens
) the Clark will soon be worship'd for the Justice, and the Maid be kiss'd instead of the Mistress.
The antient Laws for Regulation of Servants, and for ascertaining their Wages, and for obliging single Persons to go to Service, are brought into Contempt; not so much that the Reason and Necessity of such Laws are not the same as ever, or if alter'd, are only greater and more pungent than ever; but because Masters and Mistresses have slacken'd the Reins of Family Government, and given a loose to the Pride and Vanity of Servants, and have by that Remissness let them, as it were, by immemorial Custom, go lawless, 'till their Servants do not only forget, but indeed not so much as know that any such Laws were ever in being, much less that they are still in Force among us.
As,
Gentlemen and Ladies,
it is by your Lenity, and Remissness in governing your Servants, that they have forgot to obey, it lies at your Door to retrieve this Loss, by recovering your selves, and reassuming the Authority which you have laid aside so long, 'till you seem'd to have lost it.
In a Word, 'tis for you, to be Masters and Mistresses, and then you will have Servants be Servants again; for as has been said in publick, if Masters will be trampl'd on, they shall be trampl'd on, and they that will be insulted, may expect it: 'Tis an old agreed Maxim, that Good Masters make Good Servants, but then it is to be debated what is to be understood by the Term a
Good Master.
He that, being remiss in his Management, holds the Rein of his Family Government with a slack Hand, or (as it were) throws them on the Necks of his Servants, may be call'd an
Easy Master,
but cannot be call'd a
Good Master:
To be a good Master is to be a Master that will do his Servant Justice, and that will make his Servant do him Justice; he may be kind to a Servant, that will let him sleep when he shou'd work, but then he is not just to himself, or a good Governour to his Family; but he is not a good, or a kind Master, no not to the Servant himself, who will let him be drunk, when he shou'd work, and so of all other Vices; and therefore,
in a Word,
however plain and unpleasant a Truth it may be, this is certain, 'tis a needful, a seasonable, and an unanswerable Truth, that the Want of Family Government is the Ruin of Servants; and it is since Family Discipline decay'd in
England,
and the good Example of Masters ceas'd, that Servants have got the Head and Mastership over us; and untill something of an orderly and vertuous Governing of Families comes in Fashion again among us, I fear that no Laws, Acts of Parliament, or publick Regulations, will be effectual to this Purpose.
Laws are of no Force where Vice and Scandal ennervate the Authority of the Master; drunken and disorderly Families will be fill'd with drunken and disorderly Servants; nay indeed, they are Seminaries of such, and send them abroad fully instructed in Wickedness, to spread the Contagion in other Families, and ruin the Servants wherever they come.
Wherefore for God-sake, and for your own Sakes, nay, for your Servants Sakes, let Family Government be restor'd; and tho' you shou'd not reform yourselves, which it may be hop'd this wou'd a little move you to, yet reform your Families, and suffer no drunken, no swearing, disorderly Servant, to stay in your Houses; if all Gentlemen wou'd dismiss such, and refuse Certificates of Behaviour to them, they must reform, or starve.
I am not to dictate to Parliaments, nor I hope do they need it, but an Overture or Proposal may be accepted from Without-Doors, without any Offence: I wou'd then most humbly propose, in Order to the compleat Regulation of Servants, a few Heads only, which, if duly observ'd, wou'd go a great way to humble the Servants of this Age, and make them behave after a much different Manner than they do now.
1. That if any menial Servant swore an Oath, or curs'd any Person, or was disorder'd in Drink, within his Master's House, or within — Yards of the House, or Out-houses, Walls and Gardens of the same, and his Master or Mistress hearing, or being inform'd of the same, did not immediately cause such Servant to be carried before a Justice of the Peace, or dismiss, and turn them away, he shou'd forfeit 10
l.
Half to the Informer, and Half to the Servant himself.
2. That if any menial Servant shou'd swear at, or curse to his Face, their Master or Mistress, from whom they receive Wages, or strike, or offer to strike, or threaten their said Master or Mistress, they shou'd, upon legal Conviction, be transported for 21 Years, not to be in the Master's Power to remit the Sentence, and the Master not prosecuting to forfeit 500
l.
3. That if any Master or Mistress so turning away a Servant, for swearing or cursing, or for being disorder'd in Drink, shall at (or after) their so turning the said Servant away, give a Certificate of good Behaviour to them, or any Certificate at-all, without expressing the said Offence for which they were turn'd away, the said Master to forfeit 10
l.
Half to the Informer, and Half to the Poor.
4. That if any Master or Mistress shou'd discover, or detect any Servant of Fraud, Theft, Breach of Trust, or other Dishonesty, to the Value of 40
s.
or upwards, and shou'd, after such Discovery, give a Certificate of good Behaviour, to such Servant, the Master or Mistress so discovering the Fraud, shou'd be liable to make good all Loss or Damage which the said Servant, or Servants, shou'd occasion in the next Place they go to, or where they were receiv'd by Virtue of that Certificate.
The Forms of Certificates to Servants to be settled by an Act of Parliament.
5. That any menial Servant, turn'd away from his Master or Mistress, for lying out of their Houses, without Leave, or for giving sawcy or insolent Language to his Master, shou'd not be allow'd to enter into any other Service, or offer themselves to be hir'd to any other Place, 'till they had been out of Place at least six Months.
6. That no Master or Mistress shall take any menial Servant into their House, without a full Certificate for their Behaviour in the last Places they serv'd in; which Certificate the said Servant shall deliver to their new Place, when hir'd; and if any Master or Mistress shou'd venture to hire a Servant without such a Certificate, they shou'd have no Remedy by Law against such said Servant, whatever Disorders they committed, Murther excepted.
7. That every Certificate of Behaviour, given to a Servant, shall mention the particular Reason of their being dismiss'd.
8. No Certificate to be refus'd a Servant that dismisses himself, and on Complaint, the Justices to grant a Certificate, if a Master unjustly declines it.
If these Conditions, or such like, were enacted by a Law, and strictly observ'd by all the Heads of Families in
Great-Britain,
I durst boldly say, that the Great Law of
Subordination
wou'd again take Place, Servants wou'd learn to know themselves, and Family Government wou'd be soon restor'd.
One of the great Evils, which lies heavy upon Families now, in this particular Case of taking Servants, is the going about from House to House, to take Characters and Reports of Servants, or by Word of Mouth; and especially among the Ladies this Usage prevails, in which the good Nature and Charity of the Ladies to ungrateful Servants, goes so far beyond their Justice to one another, that an ill Servant is very seldom detected, and the Ladies yet excuse themselves by this,
namely,
that they are loth to take away a poor Servant's Good-Name, which is starving them; and that they may perhaps mend, when they come to another Family, what was amiss before, which indeed seldom happens.
This is the Reason why little is got by such Enquiries, and the Ladies often run as much Risque in taking a Servant after such Enquiries, as if they had not enquired at-all; and this is the Reason why so many Servants get Places again, who have been Whores, Thieves, Drunkards, Swearers, and every-thing that is vile, in the Places where they had serv'd before; and all this while the Ladies are cheating and abusing one another, in Charity to their
Servants.
It is Time to put an End to this unseasonable Good-nature; 'tis time to be just to yourselves, and not to be afraid of speaking Truth, for fear of ruining what we call
a Poor Servant:
The Care of not being ruin'd, ought to be their own, and they ought to consider (when they go to Service) that they are upon their Behaviour, for their Lives, and that to misbehave, is to be undone.
Nor wou'd any of these Severities,
shou'd they be call'd so,
make the Service of good and well-behaving
Servants
at-all the more severe or difficult; because such a
Servant
ill-us'd might always quit with Advantage, and might before a Justice obtain a Certificate without any Expence, expressing the Hardship they suffer'd, and the Reason of their coming off.
And after all I might appeal, even to the well-behaving Servants in
England,
to put in their Requests, and to tell us, what there is for them either to fear or desire, which the Laws of
England
do not provide for: It is evident the Grievance is not of the Servants side; they
do not
really, and indeed
cannot
complain; they wou'd no doubt be content things shou'd lye just as they are, but it cannot be; the Cry is loud against them, every Part of the Nation complains, and I humbly move the good House-keepers of
England,
that they wou'd not now give it over, 'till they see the Reformation of Family Discipline effectually made, which I hope these few Articles wou'd soon bring to pass: Laws have already been made on the
Servants
side, for their more easy obtaining Justice, for the better Recovery of Wages, and for obliging Masters to perform their Contracts and Covenants; the Justices are empower'd to relieve them in the Country, and the Chamberlains and Magistrates in the Corporations; every poor Apprentice Boy may complain, if he has not Food and Cloaths fitting, and convenient, according to his Indentures; and every Plowman, and poor Servant-Maid, may complain to the Justices of Peace.
Nay, in Favour of faithful and well-behaving Servants, the most favourable Law that was ever contriv'd for their Encouragement, was pass'd here in Parliament;
namely,
That every menial Servant, how remote soever from the Place of their Birth, yet remaining but one Year at a Time in the Place they were last hir'd to, is by that one Year's faithful Service entituled to a Parish Settlement in the Place; and if any Disaster happens to them, so as that they are disabled for Service, by Blindness, Lameness, or otherwise, the Parish is oblig'd to take care of, and provide for them, as long as they live, as much as if they had been born there: I doubt few Servants consider the Favour they enjoy by this Law, at leastnot 'till they come to want the Help of it.
But on the other-hand, the insolent Servant, without Regard to Master or Mistress, to Justice or Reason, packs up, and runs away when he pleases, leaves the Husbandman in the middle of his Harvest, leaves his Garden in the Prime of the Season, leaves the Manufactures in the middle of the Spring Trade; and after having receiv'd his Wages in the Dead of Winter, when there was no Work to be had, flies when the Days grow long, and his Service useful, and goes abroad where he can get the best Pay, and for all this the Master has no Remedy.
New Laws therefore seem absolutely necessary to enforce the Obedience of Servants. and oblige them to continue in their Places, according to the Time they respectively agree for, when they are hir'd: Nothing can effectually do this, but a strict Obliging all Persons, whether Gentlemen, or Husbandmen Artificers, Manufacturers, or whatever they are, who employ Servants, or Day-Labourers, neither to hire or employ any Servant, Workman, or Labourer, without a Certificate of their being fairly discharg'd, and having honestly behav'd at the last Place they work'd at, tho' it was but for one Day.
This Certificate wou'd secure their Behaviour every-where; it wou'd be a Pass to them from Place to Place; it wou'd vindicate them from all Charges on Suspicion, either in travelling from Place to Place, or stopping in any Place in their Way, and so it wou'd be of Service to the travelling Poor, and prevent their being wrongfully taken up by Hue and Cry, or other Pursuit, as is often unavoidably their Case.
And it wou'd be of Service to the Publick Justice, for the more easy apprehending of Thieves and Vagabonds; for in case of Robberies, and Mischief, every honest Man being furnish'd to give a ready Account of his Station from Place to Place, those who were not able to give such legal Satisfaction, wou'd be immediately taken hold of.
Now therefore is the time for the People of
England
to rescue themselves out of the Hands of the worst Slavery they were ever yet in, since
Magna Charta
was restor'd to them; I mean, a Bondage to their own Servants: For as they say in
Turkey,
that a Renegado is worse than a
Turk,
and that a Slave makes the worst
Patroon,
so must add, that Insolent Servants are the worst Masters.
FINIS.
Just Publish'd,
THE
Fortunate Mistress:
Or a History of the Life and vast Variety of Fortunes of
Mademoiselle de Beleau,
afterwards call'd the Countess
de Wintselsheim,
in
Germany.
Being the Person known by the Name of the LADY ROXANA, in the Time of King
Charles
II.
Printed for
T. Warner,
at the
Black-Boy
in
Pater-Noster-Row; W. Meadows
at the
Angel
in
Cornhill; W. Pepper
at the
Crown
in
Maiden-Lane, Covent-Garden; S. Harding,
at the Post-House in
St. Martin's-Lane;
and
T. Edlin
at the
Prince's-Arms
against
Exeter-Exchange
in the
Strand.
1724.