Chapter VI (2)

"But the unexpected terror which this telescope had excited inspired him with a sudden thought, which he determined to improve to the advantage of the besieged prince. Acquainting him therefore with his intention, he desired him to draw out all his men in their military array, and to let them descend the mountain slowly, clashing their arms and waving their swords as they marched. He then mounted a horse, and rode to the enemy's camp, where he no sooner arrived than he desired to be instantly introduced to the general. He found him sitting in his tent carousing in the midst of his officers, and not at all thinking of an engagement. When he approached he thus accosted him; 'I am come, great warrior, as a friend, to acquaint you with a circumstance that is absolutely necessary to the safety of yourself and army.' 'What is that?' said the general, with some surprise. 'At this instant,' replied the European, 'while you are indulging yourself in festivity, the enemy, who has lately been reinforced with a large body of his most valiant troops, is advancing to attack you, and even now has almost penetrated to your camp.' 'I have here,' added he, 'a wonderful glass, the composition of which is only known in Europe, and if you will condescend to look through it for a moment, it will convince you that all I say is truth.' Saying this, he directed his eye to the telescope, which the general had no sooner looked into than he was struck with consternation and affright. He saw the prince, whom he had long considered as lying at his mercy, advancing with his army in excellent order, and, as he imagined, close to his camp. He could even discern the menacing air of the soldiers, and the brandishing of their swords as they moved. His officers, who thronged round him to know the cause of his sudden fright, had no sooner peeped into the wonderful glass than they were all affected in the same manner. Their heads had been already disturbed by their intemperance, and therefore, without waiting to consult, they rushed in a panic out of their tents, mounted their swiftest horses, and fled away, without staying to see the consequences. The rest of the army, who had seen the consternation of their leaders, and had heard that the enemy was advancing to destroy them, were struck with an equal panic, and instantly followed the example, so that the whole plain was covered with men and horses, that made all possible haste towards their own country, without thinking of resistance. Thus was an immense army dispersed in an instant, and the besieged prince delivered from his danger by the address and superior knowledge of a single man."

"Thus you see," added Mr Barlow, "of how much use a superiority of knowledge is frequently capable of making individuals. But a still more famous instance is that of Archimedes, one of the most celebrated mathematicians of his time. He, when the city of Syracuse was besieged by the Romans, defended it for a long time by the surprising machines he invented, in such a manner that they began to despair of taking it." "Do pray," said Tommy, "tell me that story." "No," answered Mr Barlow, "it is now time to retire, and you may at any time read the particulars of this extraordinary siege in 'Plutarch's life of Marcellus.'"

And now the time approached when Mr Barlow was accustomed to invite greater part of the poor of his parish to an annual dinner. He had a large hall, which was almost filled with men, women, and children, a cheerful fire blazed in the chimney, and a prodigious table was placed in the middle for the company to dine upon. Mr Barlow himself received his guests, and conversed with them about the state of their families and their affairs. Those that were industrious, and brought their children up to labour, instructing them in the knowledge of their duty, and preserving them from bad impressions, were sure to meet with his encouragement and commendations. Those that had been ill he assisted with such little necessaries as tended to alleviate their pains, and diffuse a gleam of cheerfulness over their sufferings. "How hard," he would say, "is the lot of the poor when they are afflicted with sickness! How intolerable do _we_ find the least bodily disorder, even though we possess every convenience that can mitigate its violence! Not all the dainties which can be collected from all the elements, the warmth of downy beds and silken couches, the attendance of obsequious dependants, are capable of making us bear with common patience the most common disease; how pitiable, then, must be the state of a fellow-creature, who is at once tortured by bodily suffering, and destitute of every circumstance which can alleviate it; who sees around him a family that are not only incapable of assisting their parents, but destined to want the common necessaries of life, the moment he intermits his daily labours! How indispensable, then, is the obligation which should continually impel the rich to exert themselves in assisting their fellow-creatures, and rendering that condition of life which we all avoid less dreadful to those who must support it always!"

Acting from such principles as these, Mr Barlow was the common friend of all the species. Whatever his fortune would allow him to perform he never refused to all who stood in need of his assistance. But there is yet a duty which he thought of more importance than the mere distribution of property to the needy--the encouragement of industry and virtue among the poor, and giving them juster notions of morals and religion. "If we have a dog," he would say, "we refuse neither pains nor expense to train him up to hunting; if we have a horse, we send him to an experienced rider to be bitted; but our own species seems to be the only animal which is entirely exempted from our care." When he rode about the country he used to consider with admiration the splendid stables which the great construct for the reception of their horses, their ice-houses, temples, hermitages, grottoes, and all the apparatus of modern vanity. "All this," he would say, "is an unequivocal proof the gentleman loves himself, and grudges no expense that can gratify his vanity; but I would now wish to see what he has done for his fellow-creatures; what are the proofs that he has given of public spirit or humanity, the wrongs which he has redressed, the miseries he has alleviated, the abuses which he has endeavoured to remove!"

When he was told of the stubbornness and ingratitude of the poor, he used to say, "that he believed it without difficulty, for they were men in common with their superiors, and therefore must share in some of their vices; but if the interests of humanity were half so dear to us as the smallest article that pleases our palate or flatters our vanity, we should not so easily abandon them in disgust."

Mr Barlow happened once to be in company with a lady with whom he was upon a footing of intimacy, who was talking in this manner. "Nobody," she said, "had greater feeling than herself, or was more desirous of assisting her fellow-creatures. When she first came into the country she had endeavoured to relieve all the misery she heard of; she had given victuals to one, physic to a second, and clothes to a third; but she had met with such ill-behaviour and ingratitude in return, that she had long been obliged to resign all her charitable intentions, and abandon the poor to their fate." All the company assented to a doctrine that was so very conformable to their own practice and inclinations, and agreed that nothing could be more injudicious than any attempts to be charitable.

Some little time after this conversation cards were produced, and the lady, who had been so eloquent against the poor, sat down to whist, at which she played for several hours with equal ignorance and ill-fortune. When the party was over she was complaining to Mr Barlow of her losses, and added that she scarcely ever in her life had sat down to cards with better success. "I wonder, madam," replied Mr Barlow, "you do not then give up entirely." "Alas!" answered the lady, "I have often made this resolution, but I never had the courage to keep it." "Indeed, madam," said Mr Barlow, "it is impossible you can be deficient in courage, and therefore you wrong your own character." "You do me too much honour," said the lady, "by your good opinion; but whoever has given you this information is deceived." "I had it only from yourself, madam." "From me, sir? When did I ever give you such a character of myself?" "Just now, madam, when you declared that, upon the bad success of half-a-dozen experiments, you had resolved never more to be charitable, and had kept the resolution ever since. I can hardly conceive that your love of cards is so much greater than that of your duty and religion, and therefore, my dear madam, I must repeat it, that you certainly undervalue your own fortitude."

Such were the opinions of Mr Barlow in respect to the poor; and therefore, instead of widening the distance which fortune has placed between one part of mankind and another, he was continually intent upon bringing the two classes nearer together. Poverty has in itself so many hardships and disagreeable circumstances, that we need not increase their number by unnecessary pride and insolence. The distinctions of rank may indeed be necessary to the government of a populous country, but it is for the good of the whole, not of individuals, that they can have any just claim to be admitted, and therefore a good man will insist upon them no more than is absolutely necessary for that purpose. On the contrary, whatever may he his rank or importance, he will plainly prove, by the courtesy and benevolence of his manners, that he laments the necessity of his own elevation, and, instead of wishing to mount still higher, would willingly descend nearer to an equality with his fellow-creatures.

Tommy was very much diverted with the ceremonies of this festal day. He had lost a great part of his West Indian pride during his residence with Mr Barlow, and had contracted many acquaintances among the families of the poor. After the example of Mr Barlow, he condescended to go about from one to the other, and make inquiries about their families; nor was he a little gratified with the extreme respect with which he found himself treated, both on the account of Mr Barlow and the reputation of his own liberality.

Thus did the morning pass away in the most agreeable and auspicious manner; but after dinner an unexpected incident occurred, which clouded all the merriment of the unfortunate Tommy Merton.

Mr Barlow happened to have a large Newfoundland dog, equally famous for his good-nature and his love of the water. With this dog Tommy had been long forming an acquaintance, and he used to divert himself with throwing sticks into the water, which Cæsar would instantly bring out in his mouth, however great might be the distance. Tommy had been fired with the description of the Kamtschatkan dogs, and their method of drawing sledges, and meditated an enterprise of this nature on Cæsar. This very day, finding himself unusually at leisure, he chose for the execution of his project. He therefore furnished himself with some rope and a kitchen chair, which he destined for his vehicle instead of a sledge. He then inveigled Cæsar into a large yard behind the house, and, extending the chair flat upon the ground, fastened him to it with great care and ingenuity. Cæsar, who did not understand the new purpose to which he was going to be applied, suffered himself to be harnessed without opposition, and Tommy mounted triumphantly his seat, with a whip in his hand, and began his operations. A crowd of little boys, the sons of the labourers within, now gathered round the young gentleman, and by their admiration very much increased his ardour to distinguish himself. Tommy began to use the common expressions which he had heard coachmen practise to their horses, and smacked his whip with all the confidence of an experienced charioteer. Cæsar, meanwhile, who did not comprehend this language, began to be a little impatient, and expressed his uneasiness by making several bounds and rearing up like a restive horse. This added very much to the diversion of the spectators, and Tommy, who considered his honour as materially concerned in achieving the adventure, began to be a little more warm; and proceeding from one experiment to another, at length applied a pretty severe lash to the hinderpart of his steed. This Cæsar resented so much that he instantly set off at three-quarters speed, and dragged the chair with the driver upon it at a prodigious rate. Tommy now looked round with an infinite air of triumph, and kept his seat with surprising address and firmness.

Unfortunately there happened to be, at no great distance, a large horse-pond, which went shelving down to the depth of three or four feet. Hither, by a kind of natural instinct, the affrighted Cæsar ran, when he found he could not disengage himself from his tormentor; while Tommy, who now began to repent of his success, endeavoured to pacify and restrain him. But all his expostulations were vain, for Cæsar precipitately rushed into the pond, and in an instant plunged into the middle with his charioteer behind him. The crowd of spectators had now a fresh subject of diversion, and all their respect for Master Tommy could not hinder them from bursting into shouts of derision. The unfortunate hero was equally discomposed at the unmannerly exultation of his attendants, and at his own ticklish situation. But he did not long wait for the catastrophe of his adventure; for, after a little floundering in the pond, Cæsar, by a vigorous exertion, overturned the chair, and Tommy came roughly into the water. To add to his misfortune, the pond was at that time neither ice nor water; for a sudden thaw had commenced the day before, accompanied by a copious fall of snow. Tommy, therefore, as soon as he had recovered his footing, floundered on through mud and water and pieces of floating ice, like some amphibious animal to the shore; sometimes his feet slipped, and down he tumbled, and then he struggled up again, shaking the water from his hair and clothes. Now his feet stuck fast in the mud, and now, by a desperate effort, he disengaged himself with the loss of both his shoes; thus labouring on, with infinite pain and difficulty he reached the land. The whole troop of spectators were now incapable of stifling their laughter, which broke forth in such redoubled peals, that the unfortunate hero was irritated to an extreme degree of rage, so that, forgetting his own sufferings and necessities, as soon as he had struggled to the shore, he fell upon them in a fury, and dealt his blows so liberally on every side, that he put the whole company to flight. Tommy was now in the situation of a warrior that pursues a routed army. Dismay and terror scattered all his little associates a hundred different ways, while passion and revenge animated him to the pursuit, and made him forgetful of the wetness of his clothes, and the uncomfortableness of his situation. Whatever unfortunate boy came within his reach was sure to be unmercifully cuffed and pommelled; for, in the fury with which he felt himself inspired, he did not wait to consider the exact rules of justice.

While Tommy was thus revenging the affronts he imagined he had received, and chasing the vanquished about the court, the unusual noise and uproar which ensued reached the ears of Mr Barlow, and brought him to the door. He could hardly help laughing at the rueful figure of his friend, with the water dropping from every part of his body in copious streams, and at the rage which seemed to animate him in spite of his disaster. It was with some difficulty that Tommy could compose himself enough to give Mr Barlow an account of his misfortunes, which, when he had heard, he immediately led him into the house, and advised him to undress and go to bed. He then brought him some warm diluting liquors, by which means he avoided all the bad effects which might otherwise have arisen from so complete a drenching.

The next day Mr Barlow laughed at Tommy in his usual good-natured manner, and asked him if he intended to ride out in the Kamtschatkan manner; adding, however, that he should be afraid to attend him, as he had the habit of beating his companions. Tommy was a little confounded at this insinuation, but replied, "that he should not have been so provoked if they had not laughed at his misfortunes, and he thought it very hard to be wetted and ridiculed both." "But," replied Mr Barlow, "did their noise or laughter do you any great damage, that you endeavoured to return it so roughly?" Tommy answered, "that he must own it did not do him any hurt, or give him any pain." "Why, then," said Mr Barlow, "I do not see the justice of your returning it in that manner." "But," said Tommy, "it is so provoking to be laughed at!" "There are two ways of remedying that," replied Mr Barlow, "either not doing such things as will expose you to ridicule, or by learning to bear it with a little more patience." "But," said Tommy, "I do not think that anybody can bear it with patience." "All the world," said Mr Barlow, "are not quite so passionate as you are. It is not long ago that you were speaking of the poor Greenlanders with great contempt, and fancying them much inferior to yourself; yet those poor _barbarians_, as you called them, that live upon fish, and are not brought up like gentlemen's sons, are capable of giving you a lesson that would be of the greatest service if you would but observe it." "What is that, sir?" inquired Tommy. "They are brought up to so much moderation and self-command," said Mr Barlow, "that they never give way to those sudden impulses of passion that are common among the Europeans; and when they observe their violent gestures, their angry words, their countenances inflamed with wrath, they feel for them the greatest contempt, and say they must have been very badly educated. As to themselves, if any person think himself ill-used by another, without putting himself into any passion upon the occasion, he defies his foe to meet him at a particular time, before all their mutual acquaintance."

_Tommy._--But then I suppose they fight; and that is being as passionate as I was.

_Mr Barlow._--I am sorry that you, who pretend to have been so well brought up, should have recourse to the example of the Greenlanders, in order to justify your own conduct; but in this case you are mistaken, for the barbarians are a great deal wiser than young gentlemen. The person who thinks himself injured does indeed challenge his antagonist, but it is to a very different sort of combat from what you imagine. Both parties appear at the appointed time, and each surrounded with a company of his particular friends. The place where they assemble is generally the middle of one of their large huts, that all the persons of their society may be impartial spectators of their contest. When they are thus convened, the champion, who by agreement is to begin, steps forward into the middle of the circle, and entertains them with a song or speech, which he has before meditated. In this performance he generally contrives to throw all the ridicule he is able upon his antagonist, and his satire is applauded by his own party, and excites universal merriment among the audience. When he has sung or declaimed himself out of breath, it is the turn of his rival to begin, who goes on in the same manner, answering all the satire that has been thrown upon him, and endeavouring to win the laughter over to his own side. In this manner do the combatants go on, alternately reciting their compositions against each other, till the memory or invention of one of them fails, and he is obliged to yield the victory to his rival. After this public spectacle of their ingenuity, the two champions generally forget all their animosities, and are cordially reconciled. "This," added Mr Barlow, "appears to me to be a much better method of answering ridicule, than by giving way to passion and resentment, and beating those that displease us; and one of these honest Greenlanders would be as much ashamed of such a sudden transport of anger as a Kamtschatkan traveller would be of managing his dogs as ill as you did yesterday."