of those castles, which in my infancy I had met "Here on a beech, like amorous sot, 'I confess once whilst I was engraving one of my most curious conceits upon a delicate, smooth bark, my feet, in the tree which I had gained with much skill, deserted me; and the lover, with much amazement, came plump into the river; I did not recover the true spirit of amour under a week, and not without applying myself to some of the softest passages in Cassandra and Cleopatra. of a beautiful woman. As this desolation renewed in me a general remembrance of the calamities of the late civil wars, I began to grow desirous to know the history of the particular scene of action in this place of my abode. I here must beseech you not to think me tedious in mentioning a certain barber, who, for his general knowledge of things and persons, may beyond the most poetical description, one part of had in equal estimation with any of that order among the Romans. This person was allowed to be the best historian upon the spot; and the sequel of my tale will discover that I did not choose him so much for the soft touch of his hand, as his abilities to entertain me with an account of the Leaguer Time, as he calls it, the most authentic relations of which, through all parts of the town, are derived from this person. I found him, indeed, extremely loquacious, but withal a man of as much veracity as an impetuous speaker could be. The first time he came to shave me, before he applied his weapon to my chin, he gave a flourish with it, very like the salutation the prize-fighters give the company with theirs, which made me apprehend incision would as certainly ensue. The dexterity of this overture consists in playing the razor, with a nimble wrist, mighty near the nose without touching it: convincing him, therefore, of the dangerous consequence of such an unnecessary agility, with much persuasion I suppressed it. During the perusal of my face he gives me such accounts of the families in the neighbourhood, as tradition and his own observation have furnished him with. Whenever the precipitation of his account makes him blunder, his cruel right hand corresponds, and the razor discovers on my face, at what part of it he was in the peaceable, and at what part in the bloody incidents of his narrative. But I had long before learned to expose my person to any difficulties that might tend to the improvement of my mind. His breath, I found, was very pestilential, and being obliged to utter a great deal of it, for the carrying on his narrations, I beseeched him, before he came into my room, to go into the kitchen and mollify it with a breakfast. When he had taken off my beard, with part of my face, and dressed my wounds in the capacity of a barbersurgeon, we traversed the outworks about the castle, where I received particular information | in what places any of note among the besiegers, or the besieged, received any wound, and I was carried always to the very spot where the fact was done, howsoever dangerous (scaling part of the walls, or stumbling over loose stones) my approach to such a place might be; it being conceived impossible to arrive at a true knowledge of those matters without this hazardous explanation upon them; insomuch that I received more contusions from these speculations, than I probably could have done, had I been the most bold adventurer at the demolition of this castle. This, as all other his informations, the barber so lengthened and husbanded with digressions, that he had always something new to offer, wisely concluding that when he had finished the part of a historian, I should have no occasion for him as a barber. Whenever I looked at this ancient pile of building, I thought it perfectly resembled any These are the pleasures I met without doors; those within were as follow. I had the happiness to lie in a room that had a large hole opening from it, which, by unquestionable tradition, had been formerly continued to an abbey two miles from the castle, for a communication betwixt the austere creatures of that place, with others not altogether so contemplative. And the keeper's brother assures me, that when he formerly lay in this room, he had seen some of the spirits of this departed brotherhood, enter from the hole into this chamber, where they continued with the utmost civility to flesh and blood, till they were oppressed by the morning air. And if I do not receive his account with a very serious and believing countenance, he ventures to laugh at me as a most ridiculous infidel. The most unaccountable pleasure I take is with a fine white young owl, which strayed one night in at my window, and which I was resolved to make a prisoner, but withal to give all the indulgence that its confinement could possibly admit of. I so far insinuated myself into his favour, by presents of fresh provisions, that we could be very good company together. There is something in the eye of that creature, of such merry lustre, something of such human cunning in the turn of his visage, that I found vast delight in the survey of it. One objection indeed I at first saw, that this bird being the bird of Pallas, the choice of this favourite might afford curious matter of raillery to the ingenious, especially when it shall be known, that I am as much delighted with a cat as ever Montaigne was. But, notwithstanding this, I am so far from being ashamed of this particular humour, that I esteem myself very happy in having my odd taste of pleasure provided for upon such reasonable enough to relish the most beautiful; it is desirterms. What heightened all the pleasures Iing mankind to believe that I am capable of have spoke of, was the agreeable freedom with entering into all those subtle graces, and all which the gentleman of the house entertained that divine elegance, the enjoyment of which is us; and every one of us came into, or left the to be felt only, and not expressed. company as he thought fit; dined in his chamber, or the parlour, as a fit of spleen or study directed him; nay, sometimes every man rode or walked a different way, so that we never were together but when we were perfectly pleased with ourselves and each other. I am, sir, your most obedient humble servant, 'R. B.' P. S. I had just given my orders for the press, when my friend Mrs. Bicknell made me a visit. She came to desire I would show her the ward. robe of the Lizards, (where the various habits of the ancestors of that illustrious family are preserved,) in order to furnish her with a proper dress for the Wife of Bath. Upon sight of the little ruffs, she snatched one of them from the pin, clapt it round her neck, and, turning briskly towards me, repeated a speech out of her part in the comedy of that name. If the rest of the actors enter into their several parts with the same spirit, the humourous characters of this play cannot but appear excellent on the theatre: for very good judges have informed me, that the author has drawn them with great propriety, and an exact observation of the manNESTOR IRONSIDE. ners. No. 51.] Saturday, May 9, 1713. -Res antiquæ laudis et artis All kinds of poesy are amiable; but sacred poesy should be our most especial delight. Other poetry leads us through flowery meadows or beautiful gardens, refreshes us with cooling breezes or delicious fruits, sooths us with the murmur of waters or the melody of birds, or else conveys us to the court or camp; dazzles our imagination with crowns and sceptres, embattled hosts, or heroes shining in burnished steel; but sacred numbers seem to admit us into a solemn and magnificent temple, they encircle us with every thing that is holy and divine, they superadd an agreeable awe and reverence to all those pleasing emotions we feel from other lays, an awe and reverence that exalts, while it chastises: its sweet authority restrains each undue liberty of thought, word, and action: it makes us think better and more nobly of ourselves, from a consciousness of the great presence we are in, where saints surround us, and angels are our fellow worshippers: O let me glory, glory in my choice! Whom should I sing, but him who gave me voice! I dare launch out, and show the muses more [mine. But besides the greater pleasure which we receive from sacred poesy, it has another vast It is probable the first poets were found at advantage above all other: when it has placed ne altar, that they employed their talents in us in that imaginary temple (of which I just dorning and animating the worship of their now spoke) methinks the mighty genius of the ods: the spirit of poetry and religion recipro- place covers us with an invisible hand, secures cally warmed each other, devotion inspired us in the enjoyments we possess. We find a poetry, and poetry exalted devotion; the most kind of refuge in our pleasure, and our diversion sublime capacities were put to the most noble becomes our safety. Why then should not every use; purity of will, and fineness of understand-heart that is addicted to the muses, cry out in ing, were not such strangers as they have been in latter ages, but were most frequently lodged in the same breast, and went, as it were, hand in hand to the glory of the world's great Ruler, and the benefit of mankind. To reclaim our modern poetry, and turn it into its due and primitive channel, is an endeavour altogether worthy a far greater character than the Guardian of a private family. Kingdoms might be the better for the conversion of the muses from sensuality to natural religion, and princes on their thrones might be obliged and protected by its power. Were it modest, I should profess myself a great admirer of poesy, but that profession is in effect telling the world that I have a heart tender and generous, a heart that can swell with the joys, or be depressed with the misfortunes of others, nay, more, even of imaginary persons; a heart large enough to receive the greatest ideas nature can suggest, and delicate the holy warmth of the best poet that ever lived, I will magnify thee, O Lord, my king, and I will praise thy name for ever, and ever.' That greater benefit may be reaped from sacred poesy than from any other, is indisputable; but is it capable of yielding such exquisite delight? Has it a title only to the regard of the serious and aged? Is it only to be read on Sundays, and to be bound in black? Or does it put in for the good esteem of the gay, the fortunate, the young? Can it rival a ball or a theatre, or give pleasure to those who are conversant with beauty, and have their palates set high with all the delicacies and poignancy of human wit? That poetry gives us the greatest pleasure which affects us most, and that affects us most which is on a subject in which we have the deepest concern; for this reason it is a rule in * Dr. Young's Last Day, book ii. 7, &c. 76 THE GUARDIAN. [No. 52. epic poetry that the tale should be taken from the history of that country to which it is writ-dew, neither let there be rain upon you, nor "Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no ten, or at farthest from their distant ancestors. fields of offerings: For there the shield of the Thus Homer sung Achilles to the descendants mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, of Achilles; and Virgil to Augustus that hero's as though he had not been anointed with oil. voyage, -Genus unde Latinum Albanique patres, atque altæ mania Romæ. Æn. i. 6. All other poesy must be dropt at the gate of How then can any other poesy come in com- Whatever great or dreadful has been done, These verses, and those quoted above, are To the Guardian. "Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided: they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. "Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who put on ornaments of gold upon your ap who clothed you in scarlet, with other delights, parel." parts of Saul's character, represented by a man 'How beautiful is the more amiable and noble whom that very Saul pursued to death! But when he comes to mention Jonathan, the sublirous friendship, and the most noble instances mity ceases, and not able to mention his geneever given by man, he sinks into a fondness that will not admit of high language or allu sions to the greater circumstances of their life, and turns only upon their familiar converse. than; very pleasant hast thou been unto me: "I am distressed for thee, my brother Jona thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women." majesty, and worldly power were despicable 'In the mind of this admirable man, grandeur considerations, when he cast his eye upon the merit of him who was so suddenly snatched from them: And when he began to think of the great friendship of Jonathan, his panegyric is uttered only in broken exclamations, and tender expressions of how much they both loved, not how much Jonathan deserved. 'Pray pardon this, which was to hint only that the virtue, not the elegance of fine writing, Guardian. I am, sir, your humble servant, is the thing_principally to be considered by a No. 52.] 'C. F.' Monday, May 11, 1713. -toto solus in orbe Cæsar liber erit Cæsar alone, of all mankind, is free. Lucan. 'SIR,-When you speak of the good which would arise from the labours of ingenious men, if they could be prevailed upon to turn their thoughts upon the sublime subjects of religion, it should, methinks, be an attractive to them, if you would please to lay before them, that noble ideas aggrandise the soul of him who writes every thing in these papers. Wheresoever in I SHALL not assume to myself the merit of with a true taste of virtue. reading David's lamentation over Saul and Jo- that is curious and uncommon, useful or enterwas just now reading or conversation, I observe any thing nathan, and that divine piece was peculiarly taining, I resolve to give it to the public. The pleasing to me, in that there was such an ex-greatest part of this very paper is an extract quisite sorrow expressed in it without the least allusion to the difficulties from whence David was extricated by the fall of those great men in his way to empire. When he received the tidings of Saul's death, his generous mind has in it no reflection upon the merit of the unhappy man who was taken out of his way, but what raises his sorrow, instead of giving him consolation. "The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places: how are the mighty fallen! "Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon: Lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph. from a French manuscript, which was lent me by my good friend Mr. Charwell. He tells me he has had it about these twenty years in his possession; and he seems to me to have taken from it very many of the maxims he has pursued in the new settlement, I have heretofore spoken of, upon his lands. He has given me full liberty to make what use of it I shall think by pennyworths. I have determined to retail fit: either to publish it entire, or to retail it out sages, rendering the words livre, sous, and many it, and for that end I have translated divers pasothers of known signification in France, into their equivalent sense, that I may the better be understood by my English readers. The book I 3 contains several memoirs concerning monsieur Colbert, who had the honour to be secretary of state to his most christian majesty, and superintendant or chief director of the arts and manufactures of his kingdom. The passage for to-day is as follows: In what one article are you able to raise twice as much from your subjects as the states can do from theirs? Can you take twice as much from the rents of the lands and houses? What are the yearly rents of your whole king. dom? and how much of these will your majesty It happened that the king was one day ex-be able to take without ruining the landed inpressing his wonder to this minister, that the United Provinces should give him so much trouble, that so great a monarch as he was, should not be able to reduce so small a state, with half the power of his whole dominions. To which monsieur Colbert is said to have made the following answer : Sir, I presume upon your indulgence to speak what I have thought upon this subject, with that freedom which becomes a faithful servant, and one who has nothing more at heart than your majesty's glory and the prosperity of your whole people. Your territories are vastly greater than the United Netherlands; but, sir, it is not land that fights against land, but the strength and riches of one nation, against the strength and riches of another. I should have said only riches, since it is money that feeds and clothes the soldier, furnishes the magazine, provides the train of artillery, and answers the charge of all other military preparations. Now the riches of a prince, or state, are just so much as they can levy upon their subjects, still leaving them sufficient for their subsistence. If this shall not be left, they will desert to other countries for better usage; and I am sorry to say it, that too many of your majesty's subjects are already among your neighbours, in the condition of footmen and valets for their daily bread; many of your artisans too are fled from the severity of your collectors, they are at this time improving the manufactures of your enemies. France has lost the benefit of their hands for ever, and your majesty all hopes of any future excises by their consumption. For the extraordinary sums of one year, you have parted with an inheritance. I am never able, without the utmost indignation, to think of that minister, who had the confidence to tell your father, his subjects were but too happy, that they were not yet reduced to eat grass: as if starving his people were the only way to free himself from their seditions. But people will not starve in France, as long as bread is to be had in any other country. How much more worthy of a prince was that saying of your grandfather of glorious memory, that he hoped to see that day, when every housekeeper in his dominions should be able to allow his family a capon for their Sunday's supper? I lay down this therefore as my first principle, that your taxes upon your subjects must leave them sufficient for their subsistence, at least as comfortable a subsistence as they will find among your neighbours. Upon this principle I shall be able to make some comparison between the revenues of your majesty, and those of the States-general. Your territories are near thirty times as great, your people more than four times as many, yet your revenues are not thirty, no, nor four times as great, nor indeed as great again, as those of the United Netherlands." terest? You have, sir, above a hundred millions of acres, and not above thirteen millions of subjects, eight acres to every subject; how inconsiderable must be the value of land, where so many acres are to provide for a single person! where a single person is the whole market for the product of so much land! And what sort of customers are your subjects to these lands? what clothes is it that they wear? what provisions do they consume? Black bread, onions, and other roots, are the usual diet of the generality of your people; their common drink the pure element; they are dressed in canvass and wooden shoes, I mean such of them as are not bare-foot, and half-naked. How very mean must be the eight acres which will afford no better subsistence to a single person! Yet so many of your people live in this despicable manner, that four pounds will be easily believed to exceed the annual expenses of every one of them at a medium. And how little of this expense will be coming to the land-owner for his rent? or, which is the same thing, for the mere product of his land? Of every thing that is consumed, the greatest part of the value is the price of labour that is bestowed upon it; and it is not a very small part of their price that is paid to your majesty in your excises. Of the four pounds expense of every subject, it can hardly be thought that more than four-and-twenty shillings are paid for the mere product of the land. Then if there are eight acres to every subject, and every subject for his consumption pays no more than four-and-twenty shillings to the land, three shillings at a medium must be the full yearly value of every acre in your kingdom. Your lands, separated from the buildings, cannot be valued higher. And what then shall be thought the yearly value of the houses, or, which is the same thing, of the lodgings of your thirteen millions of subjects? What numbers of these are begging their bread throughout your kingdom? If your majesty were to walk incognito through the very streets of your capital, and would give a farthing to every beggar that asks you alms in a walk of one hour, you would have nothing left of a pistole. How miserable must be the lodgings of these wretches! even those that will not ask your charity, are huddled together, four or five families in a house. Such is the lodging in your capital. That of your other towns is yet of less value; but nothing can be more ruinous than the cottages in the villages. Six shillings for the lodging of every one of your thirteen millions of subjects, at a medium, must needs be the full yearly value of all the houses. So that at four shillings for every acre, and six shillings for the lodging of every subject, the rents of your whole kingdom will be less than twenty millions, and yet a great deal more than they were ever yet found to be by the most exact survey that has been taken. 'The next question then is, how much of these rents your majesty will think fit to take to your own use? Six of the twenty millions are in the hands of the clergy; and little enough for the support of three hundred thousand ecclesiastics, with all their necessary attendants; it is no more than twenty pounds a year for every one of the masters. These, sir, are your best guards; they keep your subjects loyal in the midst of all their misery. Your majesty will not think it your interest to take any thing from the church. From that which remains in the hands of your lay subjects, will you be able to take more than five millions to your own use? This is more than seven shillings in the pound; and then, after necessary reparations, together with losses by the failing of tenants, how very little will be left to the owners. These are gentlemen who have never been bred either to trade or manufactures, they have no other way of living than by their rents; and when these shall be taken from them, they must fly to your armies, as to an hospital, for their daily bread. 'Now sir, your majesty will give me leave to examine what are the rents of the United Netherlands, and how great a part of these their governors may take to themselves, with out oppression of the owners. There are in those provinces three millions of acres, and as many millions of subjects, a subject for every acre. Why should not then the single acre there, be as valuable as the eight acres in France, since it is to provide for as many mouths? Or if great part of the provisions of the people are fetched in by their trade from the sea or foreign countries, they will end at last in the improvement of their lands. I have often heard, and am ready to believe, that thirty shillings, one with another, is less than the yearly value of every acre in those provinces. And how much less than this will be the yearly value of lodging for every one of their subjects? There are no beggars in their streets, scarce a single one in a whole province. Their families in great towns are lodged in palaces, in comparison with those of Paris. Even the houses in their villages are more costly than in many of your cities. If such is the value of their three millions of acres, and of lodging for as many millions of subjects, the yearly rents of lands and houses are nine millions in those provinces. Then how much of this may the States take without ruining the land-owners, for the defence of their people? Their lands there, by the custom of descending in equal shares to all the children, are distributed into so many hands, that few or no persons are subsisted by their rents; land-owners, as well as others, are chiefly subsisted by trade and manufactures; and they can therefore with as much ease part with half of their whole rents, as your majesty's subjects can a quarter. The States-general may as well take four millions and a half from their rents, as your majesty can five from those of your subjects. It remains now only to compare the excises of both countries. And what excises can your majesty hope to receive by the consumption of the half-starved, and half-naked beggars in your streets? How great a part of the price of all that is eat, or drunk, or consumed by those wretched creatures? How great a part of the price of canvas cloth and wooden shoes, that are every where worn throughout the country? How great a part of the price of their water, or their black bread and onions, the general diet of your people? If your majesty were to receive the whole price of those things, your exchequer would hardly run over. Yet so much the greatest part of your subjects live in this despicable manner, that the annual expense of every one at a medium, can be no more than I have mentioned. One would almost think they starve themselves to defraud your majesty of your revenues. It is impossible to conceive that more than an eighth part can be excised from the expenses of your subjects, who live so very poorly, and then, for thirteen millions of people, your whole revenue by excises will amount to no more than six millions and a half. And how much less than this sum will the States be able to levy by the same tax upon their subjects? There are no beggars in that country. The people of their great towns live at vastly greater charge than yours. And even those in their villages are better fed and clothed than the people of your towns. At a medium, every one of their subjects live at twice the cost of those of France. Trade and manufac tures are the things that furnish them with money for this expense. Therefore, if thrice as much shall be excised from the expense of the Hollanders, yet still they will have more left than the subjects of your majesty, though you should take nothing at all from them. I must believe therefore that it will be as easy to levy thrice as much by excises upon the Dutch subject as the French, thirty shillings upon the former, as easily as ten upon the latter, and consequently four millions and a half of pounds upon their three millions of subjects; so that in the whole, by rents and excises, they will be able to raise nine millions within the year. If of this sum, for the maintenance of their clergy, which are not so numerous as in France, the charge of their civil list, and the preservation of their dikes, one million is to be deducted; yet still they will have eight for their defence, a revenue equal to two thirds of your majesty's. Your majesty will now no longer wonder that you have not been able to reduce these provinces with half the power of your whole dominions, yet half is as much as you will be ever able to employ against them; Spain and Germany will be always ready to espouse their quarrel, their forces will be sufficient to cut out work for the other half; and I wish too you could be quiet on the side of Italy and England. What then is the advice I would presume to give your majesty? To disband the greatest part of your forces, and save so many taxes to your people. Your very dominions make you too powerful to fear any insult from your neighbours. To turn your thoughts from war, and cultivate the arts of peace, the trade and manfactures of your people; this shall make you the most powerful prince, and at the same time your subjects the richest of all other subjects. |