MEMOIRS, OF GEORGE PSALMANAZAR.

I cannot better begin this melancholy ac⯑count of my former life, vile and abo⯑minable as it hath been, and blended with ſuch mixture of the moſt unaccountable pride, folly, and ſtupid villainy, in oppo⯑ſition to reaſon, religion, and all checks of conſcience, till almoſt to the thirtieth year of my age, than by humbly acknowledging the infinite mercy of God, not only in pre⯑ſerving me ſo long from the many evils and diſaſters which my own wicked raſh⯑neſs muſt elſe unavoidably have precipitated me into, as the ſequel will ſufficiently ſhow; but much more ſo in that gradual and vi⯑ſible change which his grace wrought in me, by enabling me frequently to retro⯑ſpect with ſhame and remorſe on a life ſo baſely ſpent, to ſend up the moſt fervent wiſhes to heaven that I might at length break off from ſo ſhameful and wicked a courſe of the vileſt and moſt ſcandalous [66] impoſture, that a wild and abandoned youth could be guilty of, and that I might but be bleſſed with ſuch a ſteady reſolution as at once publickly to diſclaim all the lies and forgeries I had formerly publiſhed in that monſtrous romance, and at any rate or risk to take the ſhame to my ſelf, and make a free confeſſion of the whole impoſture. But I had not only my pride to combat, but the diſpleaſure which ſuch a declaration would give to all my friends, who being very honeſt and religi⯑ous, could not but have taken it much at heart, and, perhaps, been expoſed to the cenſure of the world for their charitable opinion of me; to ſay nothing of the ab⯑horrence they muſt have conceived-againſt ſo deteſtable a cheat. As theſe therefore were ſuch powerful determents to a man wholly deſtitute of any laudable way of living, I could not expect that my earneſt wiſhes would be ſpeedily anſwered; and my only hope was, that the ſame gracious God, who had thus effectually awaked me to a ſenſe of my guilt and danger, would alſo in his own time hear thoſe prayers which himſelf had inſpired me to make, [67] eſpecially, as upon a retroſpection of my paſt follies, I was apt to comfort myſelf with the thoughts, that the violence of my favourite paſſion, pride, could never have hurried me ſo irreſiſtibly through ſuch ſcenes of folly and danger, if there had not been ſome ſad flaw in my underſtand⯑ing, ſome unavoidable degree of madneſs in my temper, which might in ſome mea⯑ſure extenuate, if not wholly excuſe, the atrocious guilt it had involved me in; and the hope that it might ſtill be placed to that account, by a merciful Judge of all our thoughts and intents, of our frail and corrupt nature, joined to the ſtedfaſt con⯑fidence I had in the promiſes of the Goſpel, and in the infinite merits of a divine Saviour, preſerved me from de⯑ſpairing of mercy and pardon, of ſucceſs and bleſſing on thoſe happy beginnings, if cloſely and earneſtly purſued.

But as ſuch a hope, without a ſincere deſire of doing one's part, to the beſt of one's power, and according to the degree of aſ⯑ſiſtance given from above, would rather deſerve the name of raſh and ſhameful pre⯑ſumption; [68] ſo the next ſtep I took, at leaſt in view, was to ſet about making all poſſi⯑ble reparation to God and his church, and to the world, and my own conſci⯑ence, for the ſcandal which ſuch a vile piece of hypocriſy muſt have given to all, eſpecially to good men, and in ſpite of all reluctance from pride and ſelf-love, which the greater it was, would the more natu⯑rally lead one to the throne of mercy for a proportionable ſupply of Divine grace, and patiently to wait for it in God's own proper time. I had not continued many months in this hopeful diſpoſition, before I perceived all thoſe difficulties and diſ⯑couragements to vaniſh by degrees, but more eſpecially at the approach of a ſe⯑vere diſeaſe, though lingering, and the apprehenſions of death, which laſt, as it did not appear to be ſo near at hand, gave me room to hope I might have time ſufficient granted me in mercy, to go through this faithful narrative, and unde⯑ceive the world; ſo that if the Divine Providence did think fit to drive me to the writing of it by his afflicting hand, I hope it will rather add weight to the cre⯑dit [69] of it, ſeeing no time is fitter than this to inſpire a man with the deepeſt ſeriouſ⯑neſs and ſincerity. But as to me, I ſtill more rely on the aſſiſtance of that ſpirit of truth, to whoſe ſpecial grace I am bound to aſcribe the abhorring ſenſe I had al⯑ready conceived againſt my former guilt, as well as the earneſt deſire and reſolution of tranſmitting to the world ſuch an ac⯑count of my paſt guilty life, as might wholly contradict and explode that falſe and impious one, which I had been induced to publiſh in the days of my abominable folly and vanity. Under that Divine Guide therefore I ſet myſelf immediately about it, and carried on daily, and with as much application as my diſeaſe (a very violent ague and fever) would permit, not doubt⯑ing but the ſincerity which I reſolved, by God's aſſiſtance, ſhould reign through the whole, would make ſome amends for the lowneſs of ſtile, and other imperfections, which, conſidering my weakly condition both of mind and body, were in ſome meaſure unavoidable. Thus far I thought neceſſary to appriſe the reader concerning the (happy, I hope I have reaſon to call [70] it) occaſion of my writing the following account, which in the name, and under the direction of that ſame God of truth, I now hope to live to ſee finiſhed, in or⯑der to be printed, if thought worthy of it, after my death; and I ſhall only add, that I am at this preſent time of writing (April 22, 1728) at a friend's houſe in the coun⯑try, free from all ſtudy and buſineſs, or any other impediment, but what is cauſed by my diſtemper, and ſhall dedicate all the time I have to ſpare in the writing of it.

But here I hope I ſhall be excuſed from giving an account either of my real country or family, or any thing that might caſt a reflection upon either, it being but too common, though unjuſt, to cenſure them for the crimes of private perſons, for which reaſon I think myſelf obliged, out of reſpect to them, to conceal both. Out of Europe I was not born, nor educated, nor ever travelled; but continued in ſome of the ſouthern parts of it till about the ſix⯑teenth year of my age, when neceſſity obliged me in ſome meaſure to remove into more northern ones, though never farther northward than the Rhine in Germany, [71] or Yorkſhire in England. And this I pur⯑poſely mention, becauſe I have been here⯑tofore ſuſpected to be a German, Swede or Dane by ſome; by others, an Engliſh or Scotchman, as their fancy lead them, though I never ſaw Germany till I was ſixteen, nor England till about two or three years after. As for my parents and relations they were Roman Catholics, and moſt of them very zealous in their way, and ſtrongly biaſſed againſt all Proteſtants. My father was of an ancient, but decayed family, and had been obliged to leave my mother before I was five years old, and to live near five hundred miles from her, whilſt ſhe was left to live and breed me up upon her ſmall fortune, without re⯑ceiving any aſſiſtance from him, his miſ⯑fortunes having put it quite out of his power to contribute any thing; ſo that I was wholly left to her care. However, nei⯑ther that, nor the narrowneſs of her cir⯑cumſtances, hindered her from giving me the beſt education ſhe could, being then her only ſurviving child. She was a pious good woman in her way, and though I was no ſmall favourite of hers, was yet [72] kept with due ſtrictneſs whilſt I ſtaid with her, which was however but a ſhort time, and do not remember that I had then any the leaſt vicious inclination, nor in all like⯑lihood might have had, had I ſtill conti⯑nued under her wing; whereas through the miſmanagement of thoſe firſt perſons to whoſe tuition I was next committed, ſuch a wrong foundation was laid, and ſo ſtrong a biaſs given me to vanity and ſelf-conceit, as proved the unhappy ſource of all my ſad miſcarriages ſince.

One general remark here I cannot avoid making concerning the ſchools of the Roman Catholics, viz. that all their ſtudents muſt learn to read, and even pray, in Latin, before they are capable of underſtanding one word of it; for this doth but inure them to read and pray without any atten⯑tion, even when they are afterwards capa⯑ble of underſtanding what they read and pray for. This ill-timed method had been complained of by many a one who have ſince felt the ſad effects of it, as well as the almoſt inſurmountable difficulty of maſtering a defect ſo early contracted and ſo deeply rooted, as it were, in our nature, [73] and none hath had more reaſon to bewail it than I.

But what did me in particular the moſt hurt, in my education abroad, was the great admiration which my more than com⯑mon readineſs at learning whatever came in my way had gained me, and the im⯑prudent fondneſs and partiality which my maſters ſhewed to me on that account. I was hardly turned of ſix years when I was ſent to a free-ſchool taught by two Franciſ⯑can monks, the eldeſt of whom perceiving my uncommon genius for languages, for till then I had only learned to read all ſorts of print and writings, and was beſides very careleſs about writing a tolerable hand, took it into his head to put me to the Latin form, though my mother and all my friends thought me much too young for it, eſpecially as I was to be ranked and claſſed among other boys of twice my years, and who had already been at it a year or two, and ſome more; however he depended ſo much on his judgment, about my genius and application, that he doubted not, he ſaid, but to ſee me out-top all the reſt in leſs than a year or two.

[74]He was not miſtaken, and though it put me to great difficulties and hard ſtudy to reach them, I began to feel ſuch emotions of vanity at the quick progreſs I made, and the commendations he gave me upon it, that I reſted not ſatisfied till I had gained the firſt rank in the form, as well as in his affection, for as he ſpared nei⯑ther careſſes nor encouragement to me, I ſoon became ſenſible both by his behaviour, as well as by the deference which the other boys paid to me, how much I was got in his favour.

Our ſchool was often viſited by prieſts, monks, gentlemen, and other perſons that paſſed through our city, and though we had in it ſeveral boys whoſe parents were in a much higher ſtation, yet I was al⯑ways ſingled out as the flower of the flock, and as the moſt ready to anſwer ſuch queſtions as were ſuitable to our form. Our monk had likewiſe, by way of animating us, cauſed ſome curious nicknacks to be made by the nuns of a neighbouring mo⯑naſtery, which they were to wear hanging to their button-holes, by a fine ribon, who held the firſt ſeats. Theſe were of ſeveral [75] ſizes, and one of them much larger than the reſt was for the foremoſt in rank. We were to be entitled to theſe accord⯑ing to our merit, and this laſt fell to my lot from the firſt exerciſe, and ſo proud was I become of this bauble, that I ne⯑ver loſt it for one ſingle day; for I had ſuch a ready and retentive memory, and quick apprehenſion, as by the help of a moderate application, made it impoſſible for my ſchool-fellows to wreſt it from me. This mark of diſtinction did moreover en⯑title me to be head monitor and marſhal of that whole ſchool. All which filled me with ſuch vanity and ambition to excel, that I could not brook any ſuperiority or preference, and our monk was but too fond of indulging, and even encouraging me in it, though to my no ſmall detri⯑ment, as he might eaſily perceive that it had given me ſuch a ſtrong bias to pride, as a prudent man would have rather choſen to nip in the bud, eſpecially as he eaſily perceived that it created no ſmall envy in my ſchool-fellows, and a kind of diſſatisfaction in ſome of their parents and relations.

[76]He tried once indeed to thwart his par⯑tiality to me, by giving our form a new kind of exerciſe, the price of which to the beſt performer was to be a fine piece of nun's work, which he adjudged to an⯑other, whom all the ſchool knew to be a dunce, but in point of quality the head of us all. Had he given it to ſome others of our form, who were greater proficients in learning, I might have thought they had ſucceeded better in their performance than I at that time; and though it would have been a great mortification to me, it might have only made me double my diligence; but here the preference was ſo flagrant and viſible, that I could not forbear expreſſing a deſire to know wherein he had outdone me, and a ſuſpicion that he had been aſ⯑ſiſted underhand by ſome monk or ſome⯑body elſe. When the good father found that I took the matter ſo to heart, and, in ſome meaſure, threaten to bid adieu, if not to the Latin, at leaſt to his ſchool; (and I believe I ſhould really have done it, ſo highly I reſented what I called the in⯑juſtice done me) he thought fit to pacify me by aſſuring me, that my competitor [77] had, upon this occaſion, ſo far excelled himſelf, that he could not forbear aſſign⯑ing him the prize by way of encourage⯑ment, though my performance was far enough from being inferior to his; and ſo, to put an end to the contention, immedi⯑ately ſent for another piece of the ſame curious work, and gave it to me, not with⯑out ſome great encomium on my uncom⯑mon diligence and progreſs, and other to⯑kens of his ſingular regard, which ſent me home ſo ſatisfied and full of myſelf, that, alas for me! every thing ſeemed to contri⯑bute to ſwell my growing pride, and make me forget myſelf.

Many other ſuch inſtances of his partial fondneſs I could name, which all tended to make me ſtill more aſſuming and arro⯑gant; one however I cannot paſs by, which ſhall ſerve as a ſpecimen: as I never was guilty of a fault at ſchool, ſo let me do what I would out of it, I was never pu⯑niſhed for it, as the other boys were, but had, perhaps, a ſoft reprimand or ſome eaſy taſk aſſigned me by way of penance, for I cannot call to mind that I ever had a blow or croſs word from him. One day [78] in particular, ſome ſtrangers, who viſited us after dinner, obtained us a diſcharge for the reſt of the day. We were no ſooner got out but I told my ſchool-fellows, that we ought to go and procure the ſame re⯑leaſe to the girls of another ſchool. Ac⯑cordingly we went and broke into the houſe, and drove the miſtreſs and ſcho⯑lars out, and then locked the doors, that they might not be obliged to come in a⯑gain, and ſent her the key at night. On the next day a ſevere complaint was brought againſt us for the aſſault, and I charged as the ringleader of the reſt, upon which a ſuitable puniſhment was promiſed, and ſoon after put in execution, in which I not only expected to have a ſhare, but to be the firſt called down to it, and yet by what partial motive I know not, I had no other puniſhment than a ſeeming ſevere reprimand, and ſome eaſy task, whilſt all the reſt were forced to ſubmit to the di⯑ſcipline of the ſchool. This partiality they loudly complained of, not only to him, but to their friends; but their reſentment upon it only gave me new matter for triumph, as it did to them new cauſe for envy, [79] which yet they dared not vent in any other way than words.

Thus I went on learning of Latin apace, I could tranſlate out of it, write and ſpeak it with great readineſs, as far as I had been taught, which was thought ſurpriſing, con⯑ſidering I had hardly attained my ninth year, and been but two years under his care. The misfortune was, that he made us only converſant with common ſchool-books, and but with few of any of the old claſſics either in proſe or verſe, ſo that I was quite unacquainted with their ſtile till I came into better hands, as I ſoon after did; for our good father being ſhortly af⯑ter choſen head, or, as they ſtile it, guardian of another convent, about twenty-four miles from this, and in an archiepiſ⯑copal city, where was alſo a college of Jeſuits for the education of youth, he ea⯑ſily prevailed upon my mother to let me go with him thither, and to board at the monaſtery under his eye, whilſt I went on with my ſtudies at the college, where he alſo promiſed to recommend me to the care of thoſe fathers. He likewiſe promiſed her that he would, in the evening, make [80] me repeat and explain what I had learned in the day, and by that means puſh me ſo forward in my learning that I ſhould out-top all my age, all which proved ſuch powerful perſuaſives to my mother, that ſhe eaſily agreed to it, eſpecially as he took four or five more youths with him to be on the ſame foot with me both at the college and in the convent. We ſet out accordingly with him for the place, and when I was introduced into the Je⯑ſuits college, there was no ſmall ſtrife what claſs I ſhould be admitted into at firſt. Here it will be neceſſary to acquaint the reader that the Jeſuits diſtinguiſh their forms, or, as they more properly ſtile them, claſſes, each of them being kept in a ſe⯑parate apartment, as follows, viz.

• 1. The vith, or loweſt, where they begin to learn the Latin Grammar.
• 2. vth, where they perfect themſelves in that, and begin to learn ſome Latin books, and to make ſome wretched Latin.
• 3. ivth, where they read Tacitus, Cicero's Epiſtles, Ovid, and ſome other eaſy Ro⯑man [81] authors, and begin to make better Latin.
• 4. iiid, where they read Curtius, Cicero's ſpeeches, Virgil, and make pretty good Latin, and learn to make Latin verſes. They likewiſe begin here to learn the Greek Grammar.
• 5. Humanity. In this claſs they read Ho⯑race, Cicero, Terence, make good verſes, and compoſe ſome ſet ſpeeches on a ſubject given, and if they have a genius for it, make ſome conſiderable progreſs in the Greek tongue, though they only read ho⯑milies of the fathers, and make verſions out of Latin into Greek. They likewiſe make ſome ſet ſpeeches, or poetical works, before a full audience.
• 6. Rhetoric. Here Homer and other Greek poets, Demoſthenes and other Greek authors, are read; together with Cicero de Oratore, Horace's Satyres, and de Arte poetica. Themes are compoſed on given ſubjects, as much as can be, in the Ciceronian ſtile and method; and likewiſe poems in imitation of the Greek and Latin poets, and other books, compiled by ſome of the ſociety for the uſe of this claſs, as [82] there are others for every claſs elſe, and every branch of learning that is taught in them, the greateſt part of which is to be learned by heart by the ſcholars, as well as ſeveral other perſons, out of the claſſic authors, in order to exerciſe their memory, as is pretended, but rather ſerves to clog it with a deal of unintelligible ſtuff, which being ſooner forgot than learned, ſerves to little purpoſe, except it be to take up ſo much of their time, to the neglect of more uſeful things, and more adapted to their capacities; to which I may ſafely add another great inconveni⯑ency, viz. that theſe leſſons being to be repeated to the decurions or monitors, be⯑fore the regent comes in, and an account to be given to him who hath, or who hath not learned them duely, in order to be commended or reproved, both the ſcholar and the monitor are in ſuch haſte to go through the drudgery, that thoſe are moſt approved of who can repeat theirs with the greateſt ſpeed, or rather with precipi⯑tation, by which ſuch an habit is formed of ſpeaking and reading with ſuch mon⯑ſtrous quickneſs, as will require a great [83] deal of trouble and pains, to break one's ſelf off afterwards, if ever it is really rec⯑tified, and this I found long ſince to my loſs, and no ſmall grief.
• 7. The laſt is philoſophy, which they di⯑vide into logic, phyſics, metaphyſics, and morality, each of which takes them a quarter of a year in learning, or, at leaſt, in expounding. Every ſcholar is obliged to ſpend a year at leaſt in each of the claſſes; and if, at the year's end, when they are all to be ſeparately examined, any be found tardy, either through dul⯑neſs or negligence, they are condemned to go through the ſame ſtudies another year, whilſt the reſt, who are found worthy, are promoted to the next claſs in rank.

When I came therefore to be acquainted with the particular ſtudies and books of each claſs, and came to reflect on my be⯑ing ſuch a ſtranger to the claſſics, I begged of my old maſter that I might be offered only as candidate for the third claſs, where they began to be taught, and this I ſhould have looked upon as a favour, conſidering that it was then Midſummer, and that I [84] was herded as a beginner into a claſs where the reſt had already ſtudied ſix months; ſo that I thought I ſhould have ſtill enough to do to overtake them before the year was out. But the good father would by no means agree to it, but inſiſted upon my being examined as a candidate to huma⯑nity. This, I complained, was putting a double hardſhip upon me, being an utter ſtranger to the every author that was read in this as well as in the other below it, and having, at moſt, but ſeven months to maſter them all; he ſo far engaged, though a⯑gainſt my will, for my overcoming all thoſe difficulties by my genius and application, that I was obliged to undergo the exami⯑nation of a candidate for humanity: and though my repugnance made me leſs ſoli⯑citous how I went through it, as I was ſo deſirous to be ſent down to the claſs be⯑low it, yet whether the old monk's inte⯑reſt prevailed, or my own merit gained it, I was readily admitted into the claſs of humanity, and found it a very hard tug to keep up my credit under thoſe diſad⯑vantages I laboured under. I wondered indeed how my old maſter could be guilty [85] of ſuch a neglect, and often preſſed him to give me his aſſiſtance, which he trying to comply with, gave me but too fair an opportunity of diſcovering the true cauſe of it, viz. his being as unacquainted with them as I was. This therefore proved a very difficult claſs to me; and what was ſtill more diſcouraging to me was, that our regent, ſo they call the perſon that teaches in every claſs, inſtead of making any kind allowance for my tender years, for my being entered ſo late, and under ſuch diſadvantages, often charged me with neglect and indolence, and, in a jocoſe manner, threatened to leave me inter ma⯑nentes, that is, inſtead of raiſing to the next claſs, to leave me in this for another year. And though I was ſenſible that would have been more for my advantage, yet the ſhame of it was what I could not have brooked; and I thought it a mortification more than ſufficient to be ranked among the middle⯑moſt of his claſs, who had till then been uſed to be at the head. But this he did rather to ſpur me on than to diſpirit me, that I might the more eaſily be admitted into the claſs of rhetoric againſt the time [86] of the yearly examination. This grand ceremony is performed a little before the Chriſtmas holidays, and when the ſcholars have learned their doom, that is, whe⯑ther to go up or to ſtay in the old claſs, they break up for ten or twelve days, and go to their reſpective homes. There were at this time four or five of my own townſ⯑boys, all of them not only much older, but who had been at the college ſeveral years before me, and bore a kind of envy againſt me for being admitted at once into the ſame claſs with them, and would have been glad to have left me behind in it. This conſideration, joined to the diſplea⯑ſure ſuch a piece of news would have been, not only to my old maſter, but much more ſo to my mother, made me ſo much the more diligent againſt the time of trial, and the more eaſily forego the advantage of another year's humanity: for the pride and pleaſure of keeping pace with, and following them into rhetoric. Accordingly, I exerted myſelf ſo well, and gave ſuch ſatisfaction at my examina⯑tion, that I was nominated, as well as they, for that higher claſs. But tho' this [87] gave me no ſmall joy, and made me go home with a lighter heart, yet I have had ſince ſufficient reaſon to wiſh it had proved otherwiſe; for our next regent, (the Je⯑ſuits cuſtoms is to change them every year, and to ſend new ones out of other colleges) proved a perſon every way almoſt unquali⯑fied for that high claſs, ſo that we rather went backwards than forward under him. He eſſayed at firſt to expound ſome of the Greek poets and orators by the help of the Latin verſions annexed to them, in doing which he ſo far betrayed his igno⯑rance of that tongue, that every one of us ſoon became ſenſible of it, which obliged him to ſet it quite aſide. He was not much happier in the Latin ones, though better acquainted with them, and took at length ſuch a diſguſt to the college method, that he may juſtly be ſaid to have diverted himſelf with teaching us things quite op⯑poſite to it, and altogether foreign to our claſs, but which ſuited his genius better.

It will not be amiſs to obſerve here, that the three main qualifications that procure admiſſion into that ſociety, are quality, or high rank, learning and riches. Our good [88] regent was one of the laſt ſort, being the ſon of an overgrown citizen or tradeſ⯑man, who brought money enough into the fraternity to make amends for his want of learning; and as this college was but an obſcure one, in compariſon to thoſe which they have in their great univerſities, he might be thought perhaps good enough to teach here; at leaſt, if he was not fit to do ſo here, he could be much leſs ſo any where elſe. He complied however ſo far with the rules of the college, and of our claſs, as to oblige us now and then to make verſes, themes, verſions, and ſuch low ex⯑erciſes; but I ſoon found that he did not give himſelf the trouble of looking them over, or even, for form's ſake, of com⯑mending or diſcommending our perform⯑ances according to their merit. As he was of a facetious temper, he would often ſo far indulge his vein, as to entertain us for a whole hour with ſtories, which were nei⯑ther calculated to improve our minds, nor to make us in love with our books. At length, quite tired, as he ſeemed, with the drudgery of the college, he took it into his head to teach us heraldry, geography, and [89] fortification, inſtead of the proper leſſons of our claſs; ſo that we were forced, in ſome meaſure, to exchange books for maps, coats of arms, plans of cities, caſtles, &c. and, at length, to dabble with him in clay and dirt, in order to make a variety of fortifications, with all their ap⯑purtenances and proper colours; and theſe he took no ſmall pride in ſhewing to ſtran⯑gers, but with this ſalvo, that this was our and his employment only between the ſchool hours, tho' we were but too ſenſi⯑ble that they took up likewiſe all our ſchool-time, ſo that ſome days we did no⯑thing elſe but that, to the neglect of every other branch of learning that was proper for our claſs. At length, after having tri⯑fled away near two thirds of the year, to our no ſmall detriment, and to my great regret, who was ſo far behind-hand in my my learning, I was timely relieved, as I thought, by a letter from my mother, in⯑forming me, that the rector of a ſmall con⯑vent of Dominicans in our neighbourhood, was going to teach philoſophy to as many young gentlemen as he could get, and in⯑viting me to make one of the number. [90] I readily agreed to it, the convent being but a pleaſant walk out of my native city; and though I found I muſt take my leave of the claſſics if I went, yet I thought the learning of philoſophy would be both more creditable and uſeful, than the poor ſtuff which our Jeſuit taught us; though had I been then as well acquainted with the ſubtleties of Tho. Aquinas (or rather Ariſtotle, for that is the philoſophy which the Dominicans teach) as I became after⯑wards, I doubt whether I ſhould ever have been one of his diſciples, at leaſt by my conſent. However, I left the college without any further ceremony, and having acquainted four or five of our claſs that were my townſboys with my deſign, they ſoon followed me, and at our coming to the rector, we found that he had already about twenty more, ſome, from a great univerſity about ſixty miles off, others, from the neighbouring towns, ſeveral of them mere dunces and ruſtics, with no other educa⯑tion than a little ſmattering of the Latin tongue, and not above five or ſix tolera⯑bly qualified for the ſtudy we were en⯑gaging in. As for me, whatever my old [91] Franciſcan maſter might depend upon as to the ſtrength of my genius and cloſeneſs of application, for acquiring theſe branches of learning I was ſtill wanting in, yet the diſcouragements which I had already en⯑countered through his miſmanagement, in placing me in too high a form, as well as the time we had trifled away in the claſs of rhetoric, had much abated my thirſt after learning; and the much greater diſ⯑appointment I met with under this new pretended teacher of philoſophy, quite com⯑pleated my misfortune, by turning it into a downright careleſſneſs and indifference a⯑bout it. For tho' I was naturally quick enough, and aſſiduous at whatever I could gain the maſtery of, and applauſe for ſo doing, yet, whenever the caſe proved other⯑wiſe, no youth could be more naturally lazy and ſupine than I; ſo that I cannot but think, on the ſtricteſt recollection I can make, that theſe many diſcouragements ſo cloſely following one another, were ra⯑ther the cauſe of that deplorable indolence I ſince contracted for all laudable applica⯑tion to ſtudy, than my own natural tem⯑per and genius, which, had it been rightly [92] directed and encouraged by proper motives, and eſpecially if kept under ſome ſtrict diſ⯑cipline, might have eaſily been enabled to have overcome the greateſt difficulties in almoſt every branch of learning: but to re⯑turn to our Dominican rector.

He began as uſual with logic, and diſplay⯑ed a pretty good talent at explaining it to as many of us as had a genius for it; for as to the reſt, which were near two-thirds of his ſchool, both he and we could eaſily perceive that he was only wronging them of their time and money, though little did I think how ſoon that was to be my caſe: for though I took his logic with ſuch ſurpriſing quickneſs and delight, as to have but one competitor, and was become a great favourite of his, by the free and hu⯑morous way in which I uſed to put, now and then, ſome puzzling queſtions to him; yet when we came to the ſecond branch, which was Ariſtotle's phyſics, with Aquinas's comments, I found it ſuch an unintelligible jargon, and him ſo little qualified to ex⯑plain it to us, that I became quite tired with it; for ſome of us, eſpecially my competitor and I, expected at leaſt that he [93] would have made every point as clear and evident to us, as he had before in logical lectures, and have anſwered ſuch objec⯑tions as we were able to raiſe againſt ei⯑ther the doctrines, or his expoſitions; but, to our great ſurprize, we found that he had undertaken to expound what himſelf did not underſtand, and that Aquinas's ſubtilities and diſtinctions were as much above his reach as above ours. Thus, for inſtance, Ariſtotle's account of the materia prima, together with his ſubtile commen⯑tator's expoſitions on it, in which our rector ſpent above a fortnight, including the rubs we threw into his way, appeared to us ſuch an unintelligible heap of ſtuff, that, at our taking leave of it, to paſs to another point, we made ourſelves very merry about it, and owned ourſelves as much in the dark as when he began it; inſomuch, that he was forced to own he never could thoroughly comprehend it, and only delivered it to us on the autho⯑rity of that philoſopher, and of his many eminent diſciples of the Dominican order, ſuch as Albertus Magnus, Aquinas, &c. &c. I have ſince, upon running over his leſſons [94] more carefully, found reaſon to doubt whe⯑ther a much abler head than his, would not have been as much at a loſs to have beat it into any man's brain, that would not be ſatisfied with words without a meaning. However, as I plainly perceiv⯑ed that his chief view was to get our mo⯑ney, without troubling himſelf whether our progreſs was anſwerable, I contracted by degrees ſuch a habit of indolence and liſtleſſ⯑neſs to all he ſaid (eſpecially as he had got a ſingular knack at extricating himſelf, when cloſely preſſed, by ſome facetious joke or merry ſtory) that I wrote his lec⯑tures, and heard his expoſitions, without any attention, or offering any objection, unleſs it was in the jocund way, and to enliven our drooping ſpirits, and without troubling myſelf whether what he ſaid or anſwered was right or wrong.

I know not whether it was not owing to his perceiving this liſtleſſneſs in us, that he began to raiſe our expectation and hopes that his metaphyſics, which was ſoon to follow, would prove more delightful to us. We did indeed expect it, from the nature of the ſubjects it treats of, and were not a little [95] impatient to have this quarter finiſhed, that we might enter into a more entertaining field: but when we found ourſelves no leſs diſappointed in this, it only damped our ſpirits the more, and gave me a ſtill greater diſlike to the jargon of the ſchool, ſo that by that time we entered into the laſt quarter, when ethics were to be the new ſubject of his lectures, and might have otherwiſe proved more uſeful and en⯑tertaining to us, if it had been handled by a more proper perſon, we were grown ſo tired and out of conceit with him, that we reaped no more benefit from it than we had from the reſt; and inſtead of diverting ourſelves with repetitions and diſputes a⯑bout his leſſons, as we uſed to do at firſt, we ſtudied to forget every ſubject he had diſcuſſed to us, as ſoon as we were got out of his ſight. Thus having murdered, as I may ſay, another year, we were diſ⯑miſſed, not without great applauſe and compliments to ſome of us, on account of our parts and proficiency. But if I may judge of the reſt by myſelf, to whom he was always pleaſed to allow the firſt rank, I am ſure his praiſes were ill beſtowed as [96] to any benefit we had reaped from his pains and ours: however, I was by that time become ſo great a favourite to him, that he afterwards left no means nor ca⯑reſſes untried to induce me to enter into their order, and I believe, in the mind I then was in, he might eaſily have prevail⯑ed, had not my mother ſtrenuouſly op⯑poſed it. I was ſenſible of my deficiency in all the branches of learning I had hi⯑therto gone through, by the miſconduct of thoſe under whom I had learned, and could eaſily ſee what dunces both my old Franciſcan maſter and this Dominican rec⯑tor were, though they paſſed for able men; and where could I better conceal my own defects and ignorance than under a monk⯑iſh habit, which would, at leaſt, give one the reputation of learning? But this I had taken care to conceal from her, partly out of pride, and partly to prevent her taking it to heart, and our rector had ad⯑dreſs enough to make her believe I was a prodigy, conſidering how young I ſtill was, and to perſuade her to ſend me to the next univerſity, and to learn theology there, promiſing to give me ſuch a recom⯑mendation [97] to the Dominicans who taught it there, as well as the Jeſuits, that no pains ſhould be ſpared to make me ſhine in the world. She eaſily conſented to it, and he gave me a certificate directed to the prior of their convent at that great city, teſtifying that I had gone thro' a courſe of philoſophy, and was fit to be admitted a ſtudent in theology, to which he tacked ſome farther commendations; all which could be of no ſervice to me, unleſs I re⯑ſolved to go and learn under the Domini⯑cans, for the Jeſuits would hardly have admitted me to that claſs, before I had gone a new courſe through their philoſo⯑phy. It had been, indeed, much better for me to have choſen the latter, conſider⯑ing the little proficiency I had made in it; but my pride, and the fear of diſobliging my mother, determined me to the for⯑mer, and I offered myſelf accordingly, and was readily admitted a ſtudent under two very reverend rectors, the one for the morning, and the other for the afternoon; both very grave and learned, indeed, in their way; but, upon my firſt admittance, the ſchool appeared to me like a new world, [98] where I was looked upon as a little raw ſtrippling, too young quite, in all appear⯑ance, to herd among the reſt of the ſtu⯑dents, ſome of whom were twice my age, and none by many years ſo young as I. What was ſtill more diſcouraging was, that here was no diſtinction made between thoſe who had already ſtudied near two years (for the whole courſe of theology laſts two whole years) and thoſe who were but newly admitted. The ſame lectures were read and expounded to all alike, and in the uſual courſe, ſo that thoſe who came not at the very beginning, had no other chance, but at the end, to put middle and both ends together as well as they could, which made the old ſtanders aſſume ſuch an over⯑bearing air over the new ones, as was alto⯑gether mortifying, at leaſt it proved ſo to me, who never had, till then, ſeen my ſchool-fellows ſo much above me.

I may fairly date the completion of my ruin from the time of my coming to this populous place, on more accounts than one: for firſt, the city was a noble, great one, full of gentry and nobility, of coaches, and all kinds of grandeur, all which did greatly [99] affect me, who had never ſeen ſo much by far of the beau monde, neither in my native city, nor in the archiepiſcopal one, where I had ſtudied under the Jeſuits. 2dly, I had been already cloyed with Aquinas's philoſophy, when I had no ſuch bright tempting objects dancing before my eyes, what likelihood could there be that ſuch a ſchool as this, ſhould reconcile me to the more refined and unintelligible ſub⯑tilities of his theology, eſpecially conſider⯑ing the diſadvantages we late comers were forced to labour under, and the high ſtate which our two rectors took upon them? for here was no room for objecting, or even deſiring a point or a term to be explained, and we had nothing to do but to write what they dictated, and take their expoſi⯑tions for ſound doctrine. Even thoſe who had ſtudied longeſt under them, and were looked upon as the brighteſt, were not in⯑dulged to ſtart a difficulty, though the oc⯑caſion was ever ſo fair; all which damped my ſpirits, who had never been uſed to ſuch a reſtraint, and had, moreover, the mortification to ſee myſelf placed in the loweſt rank, who had, till then, been [100] moſtly at the head, that I grew by degrees quite out of conceit both with myſelf and with the ſchool. What added ſtill more to my diſcontentedneſs was, that I boarded at ſome near relations in one of the ſuburbs of the city, and at a great diſtance from the convent, and theſe commonly dined ſo late, that I muſt either take up with an irregular meal, or come near an hour after the reſt to the ſchool. I did indeed pre⯑fer the firſt for ſome time, but grew by degrees weary of it, as the ſtudy I was upon grew leſs engaging to me; ſo that though I took up as little time as I could at my dinner, yet one half hour, at leaſt, was loſt by it, and our rector had dictated ſome pages of matter to the reſt, which, after ſchool was over, I uſed to copy out of the manuſcripts of ſome of my ſchool-fellows. Our rector having more than once obſerved what irregular hours I kept, was ſo kind as to give me a civil repri⯑mand, and not expecting, perhaps, a re⯑ply to it, was going on with his lecture, but I had been ſo little uſed to make anſwers to it in dumb ſhow, as I obſerved many of his hearers were forced to do, that I [101] bluntly told him the occaſion, aſſuring him, that I had not influence enough in the family to prevail on them to alter their hours.

The good father not approving of my ex⯑cuſe, which plainly ſhewed that I could not forego my dinner for his leſſons, and might be an ill precedent to ſome of the reſt, ſeemed rather inclined to lay the fault on my being better pleaſed with thoſe late hours of dining, or elſe he thought I might eaſily perſuade my relations to alter their method on my account. But whether ſo or not, he inſiſted, and reaſonably enough, that I ſhould conform to the ſchool-hours, whatever inconveniency it might put me as to my dinner. I was ſenſible of the juſtneſs of his reproof, and after having been often at high words with my relati⯑ons (for they were fully paid for my board) to no purpoſe, and tried to conform to the ſchool-hours for ſome time, I grew weary of it, and having nobody to controul me, which proved my greateſt misfortune, I quite forſook the afternoon lectures, and ſpent that time in ſauntring about the city and country adjacent, viewing the build⯑ings, [102] and ſometimes taking plans and viſ⯑toes of ſuch places as pleaſed me, but without any other deſign than to divert myſelf. I was, however, ſurpriſed ſoon after, to find myſelf interrogated by our morning profeſſor, about the reaſon of my not coming to the afternoon lectures. Whether my quondam maſter of philoſo⯑phy had wrote any thing particularly con⯑cerning his expectation of getting me into their order or not, I knew not, but I was in a genteel manner given to underſtand by this, that I ought to look on it as a ſin⯑gular favour that they ſo far concerned themſelves about me. What anſwer I made him, beſides my thanking him for his care, I cannot recollect; but though we parted good friends, I ſoon after forſook his lecture alſo, and from that time minded little elſe but my own pleaſures, which, though altogether of the innocent kind, ſometimes with the fair ſex, at other times in viewing the curioſities of the place, or making ſolitary excurſions, and the like; yet were not without ſome pungent remorſe, as they tended to little elſe but to inure me to a habit of indolence and careleſs [103] inactivity. At ſome intervals, indeed, I tried to read over all my manuſcripts both in philoſophy and theology, but ſtill ſo diſ⯑guſted with them, that I never had the pa⯑tience to go through them.

I had before this ſent ſome complaining letters to my mother, as well as meſſages by word of mouth by ſome of my townſ⯑men, who had been witneſſes of the bad hours we kept, and to whom I had re⯑lated the inconveniency it had put to, with relation to my ſtudies; and ſhe, good wo⯑man, thinking that I took it more to heart than I did, ſent me a ſmall ſupply to con⯑vey me to Avignon, where I was to meet an old rich counſellor of our town, who was gone to ſpend ſome time in that famed city. He had no children of his own, but ſome nephews, one of which he deſigned to breed up a ſcholar under me, in conſi⯑deration of which I was to lodge and board with the uncle, till I could better provide for myſelf. As this was likely to be a kind of change for the better for me, as well as an eaſement to my mother, whoſe ſtrait circumſtances could hardly permit her to be at ſuch expence for my education, I [104] made no delay to go down to Avignon, where I found the old gentleman ready to receive me, and, a day or two after, en⯑tered into my new office of tutor to his nephew, who had already made ſome pro⯑greſs in the Latin Grammar. I had not been long there before I got acquainted with a young abbé, or candidate for prieſtly orders, a countryman of mine, and an in⯑genious young man, of ſome learning; and he finding that I had ſtudied philoſophy and theology under the Dominicans, in⯑troduced me to one of their profeſſors in this city, by whom I was courteouſly re⯑ceived, and ſoon after admitted to be one of his diſciples. This father, who was a man of ſingular modeſty and humanity, and was reputed a ſaint, paid me an un⯑common regard upon my firſt admiſſion to his lectures, and made an apology to the reſt of his ſcholars for recapitulating ſome of his former leſſons and expoſitions, in gratiam, as he was pleaſed to word it, chariſſimi noſtri novi diſcipuli, that I might the better underſtand what he was then, and afterwards, to deliver to us. This great condeſcenſion, which had not been [105] ſhewed to me by either of the profeſſors of the laſt univerſity, and which I ſince underſtood was not uſual among them, did highly oblige me, and I would have been glad to have made ſuch a proficiency under him, as might have, in ſome mea⯑ſure, anſwered his ſingular kindneſs to me, which he ſtill continued to expreſs all the time I went to hear him, but my misfor⯑tune was, that I was ſtill ſo unacquainted as well as diſguſted at the ſubtilities of the ſchool, and met with ſuch crampt diſtinc⯑tions and technical terms I was ſtill a ſtranger to, and was aſhamed to aſk the meaning of from any of the ſcholars, who were far enough from thinking me ſo great a novice to the language of the Thomiſts, that I began again, in ſpite of all his ca⯑reſſes, and my own eager deſires, to de⯑ſpair of ever becoming a theologian; and theſe difficulties added to the lazy and unthinking habit I had ſo long indulged, made me at length forbear going any more to hear him.

I have already hinted that my mother's cir⯑cumſtances were too narrow for the expence I had already put her to, and my father [106] was ſtill more unable to give her any aſſiſt⯑ance in it, though he was not a little pleaſed at the great progreſs he was told I had made for my years. Her hopes and mine were, indeed, that I might by that means introduce myſelf as a tutor into ſome good family, and ſave her all farther charges. But I had been ſo far neglected in the o⯑ther parts of my education, had ſo little addreſs or politeneſs, and knew ſo little of the world, that I could not look upon myſelf as fit for ſuch an employment a⯑mong perſons above the common rank, and my pride would not let me aim at any thing below it; ſo that inſtead of trying as I might, and ought to have done, I was rather become careleſs and indifferent a⯑bout it, and I was indeed both too young and too naturally unfit for it. Notwith⯑ſtanding which, ſome of my acquaintance, unknown or undeſired, got me into a mid⯑dling family, where I was upon ſomewhat better terms than with my old counſellor; but the overgrown youth, who was put under my care, and was much older, and taller by the head and ſhoulders than I, had, by that time, contracted ſuch an in⯑dolence, [107] or rather averſeneſs, both to the Latin tongue, and to other laudable ſtudies, that had I been ever ſo diligent in teach⯑ing him, it would have been to little pur⯑poſe, becauſe, as I ſoon found, he wanted parts as well as inclination for ſtudy; ſo that we ſpent more of our time in play⯑ing on the violin and flute than at our books. His mother, who heard us at it longer and oftner than ſhe thought was conſiſtent with the progreſs ſhe expected him to make under me, complained more than once of it to me; upon which I made no difficulty to tell her, that a greater degree of application would rather confirm him in his averſeneſs, than reconcile him to his ſtudy, as he had ſo ſmall a capacity for it. I left this ſoon after for a better place with a perſon of diſtinction, who in⯑truſted two ſons of his to my care, both very young, and ſpoiled by the mother, that the eldeſt, above ſeven years of age, could but juſt read, and neither of them inclined to learn. I tried what I could to bring them to it, but to little purpoſe, ex⯑cept a little hiſtory, which the eldeſt took more freely to, but the mother's indul⯑gence [108] was not the only obſtacle, and as ſhe was a ſprightly lady, and her ſpouſe ſomewhat heavy, though not old, I ſoon found by her behaviour, and her parting beds with him ſoon after my coming, that ſhe would have been better pleaſed I had transferred my care from them to her; and as I was naturally fond of ingratiating myſelf with the ſex, I indulged her in all her little foibles, but without having the leaſt deſign of going farther than a bare complaiſance, in order to gain her eſteem and admiration, rather than her affection, and to ſatisfy my own vanity, rather than cheriſh a dangerous paſſion for her. This made me to take frequent occaſions to re⯑commend myſelf by falſe merit, ſince I had no real one that could do it, by pre⯑tending to more virtue and religion than I had, and to palliate the low circumſtances of my parents by ſome vain excuſes, and pretences, all which I did with ſo little caution, and in ſo aukward a manner, as made me appear rather more deſpicable in her eyes, conſidering the mean appearance I made, and which was owing chiefly to my own negligence and bad oeconomy. [109] All theſe diſadvantages, however, might have been eaſily overlooked, and I might have been readily ſuffered to indulge my own prevailing paſſion, if I could but have ſhewed more concern for hers.

It is not my deſign to dwell on ſuch ſcenes as theſe, much leſs to aſcribe my neglect and overlooking the ſeveral diſtant offers made by ſo agreeable a perſon to my own virtue. I might more juſtly impute it to my natural ſheepiſh baſhfulneſs, and un⯑experienced youth; however, after a ſix month's ſtay, and ſome viſible proofs that it was not in my power to conquer it, I perceived a ſtrange coldneſs to ſucceed, which made me think it would not be long before I was diſcharged. She was ſoon after viſited by ſome relations, who per⯑ſuaded her to go and ſpend ſome part of the ſummer with them about twenty miles off. They, eſpecially the gentlemen, af⯑fected the air of libertines, and all of them expreſſed a ſingular contempt for the ſu⯑perſtitions of the church of Rome, by which I gueſſed them to be concealed Pro⯑teſtants, of whom there were great num⯑bers in Languedoc, Provence, Dauphinee, [110] and I have had ſince reaſon to think, that my young lady was ſo likewiſe, by her light behaviour at church, and on other occaſi⯑ons. I had ſome ſmall diſputes with them, being then very zealous for that church, but they knowing that I had ſtudied divi⯑nity, and fearing, I ſuppoſe, leſt too ea⯑ger an oppoſition to what I urged againſt them ſhould cauſe a diſcovery, they de⯑clined entering the liſt with me any far⯑ther, and I then found, for the firſt time, that the Proteſtants had more to ſay for themſelves than I had ever imagined; for the divinity we were taught at the ſchools ſeldom meddled with the controverſies be⯑tween us and the Proteſtants, ſo that had it not been for fear, thoſe gentlemen, I found, might eaſily have foiled me, not⯑withſtanding all my theology. The lady was preparing for her journey, and was to take her ſons with her, yet kept me in ſuſpenſe whether I was to accompany her, or ſtay with her huſband, or be diſcharged. I have had reaſon to think ſince, that ſhe had an end in it; but finding my behavi⯑our ſtill aukward and unpromiſing, not⯑withſtanding ſome freſh eſſays, which I [111] did not then ſo well comprehend, ſhe left it to her huſband, who was a perſon that cared for nothing but his bottle, and left her to do as ſhe pleaſed in every thing elſe, to acquaint me with the news that they ſhould have no farther occaſion for me. I was more grieved than ſurpriſed at it, which, ſhe perceiving, occaſioned one more ſnare to be laid by means of the chambermaid, which proving ſtill unſuc⯑ceſsful, and this was the very night before they were to ſet out, I was deſpiſed and laughed at, and given to underſtand, that I might thank myſelf if the lady and I went different ways.

I have already hinted that virtue and reli⯑gion had little or no ſhare in my diſap⯑pointing her, but rather a vanity of being thought more chaſte than I really was, which kept me ſo indeed, as to the act, not only on this, but many other ren⯑counters, though in heart and thought few men were more ſtrangers to that vir⯑tue than I, even at thoſe tender years; and though religion, which, in all my fooliſh extravagancies, I never once loſt ſight of, held ſtill ſome check on my mind, yet [112] it could hardly turn even the ſcale againſt any favourite paſſion of mine, farther than to make me condemn myſelf after having yielded to it; ſo that it was rather the fear of a repulſe, or ſome other or worſe con⯑ſequence that kept me from ſhewing an equal ardor for her, whatever opinion my different behaviour might give her of me. The company and ſhe were no ſooner gone than I took the road to Avignon, where I heard that my old counſellor was gone home, with his nephews, to my no ſmall grief, eſpecially as my pockets were then low; the widow where we had boarded very poor, and I had ſo few acquaintance in that city; however, I ven⯑tured to ſtay with her till I could write to my mother for a freſh ſupply, or till ſome⯑thing better fell in my way, though I had little reaſon to expect any ſucceſs from ei⯑ther; being by this time become very ſhabby in cloaths and linnen, and more indolent and inactive than ever. To ward off, as much as poſſible, the pungent mor⯑tification of my preſent circumſtances, I had recourſe to my old ſtratagem, of cloath⯑ing myſelf with ſome falſe merit for want [113] of a great one, and of pretending to be a ſufferer for religion for a too great attach⯑ment to the church, and laying moſt of the blame on my own father, as uſing me the more ſeverely on that account; all which, though abominably falſe in every reſpect, yet being too eaſily liſtened to by ſome of my acquaintance, eſpecially among the friars, did gain me ſo much pity and admiration, as ſoothed my vanity for the preſent, though it did not anſwer the main end I propoſed, its introducing me into ſome new family as a tutor, and at the ſame time accounting, in ſome tolera⯑ble meaſure, for the mean appearance I then made.

I was about the ſame time informed that the famed fair of Baucaire, a city in Lan⯑guedoc, on the Rhone, and one of the largeſt fairs in Europe, was at hand, and that among the great concourſe at it, I might meet with ſome of my own townſ⯑men, from whom I might get a freſh ſup⯑ply. I went accordingly, and found there ſeveral merchants of my acquaintance, who furniſhed me with as much money for the preſent, as would juſt ſerve, but, on the [114] next day, when I expected to have re⯑ceived a much larger ſum, I only met with a ſevere reprimand for my mean ap⯑pearance, and for not having made a better uſe of the opportunities I had had of diſ⯑charging my mother from all future ex⯑pences on my account. I excuſed it as well as I could to them, they being no ſtrangers to the great poverty, not to ſay univerſal miſery, that then reigned at A⯑vignon, where the ſtreets abounded with people, who, from living very comforta⯑bly, and ſome of them richly, on the ſilk manufacture of the place, were, on the decay of it, reduced to the loweſt degree of beg⯑gary. They told me, that though that was too truly the caſe of the tradeſmen, yet the prieſts and monks lived in as much plenty as ever, and a lad of my parts and learning might eaſily have found means to have recommended himſelf to ſome of them, inſtead of appearing in ſuch a guiſe as I did, and which they ſaid made them apprehenſive I had taken up ſome ill courſes. This cenſure, which was no leſs unjuſt than ſevere, if they ſpoke what they thought, did cut me to the heart; for no [115] youth could be more free from the vices of drinking, gaming, intriguing, &c. than I was. Happy it would have been for me if I could have as eaſily diſculpated myſelf from thoſe of indolence, vanity, and bad oeconomy; for theſe were the true ſources of my misfortunes, inſomuch that I am perſuaded, if they had ſupplied me with as great a ſum, as I could in reaſon have deſired, I ſhould have been induced to have laid out the greateſt part of it in ſuch curious nicknacks and trifles as that fair affords, eſpecially of the muſi⯑cal kind; for I had already, in that ſhort interval, agreed for a good number of them; but whether they had ſet any body to watch my motions, and gueſſed at the prepoſterous uſe I ſhould make of what money they might lend me, or whatever other reaſon they might have, they abſo⯑lutely refuſed to let me have even ſo much as would bring me back to Avignon; ſo that one may eaſily imagine the diſmal plight I was in all the way thither, to ſay nothing of that mortification I ſhould meet with among my acquaintance there at my ill ſucceſs. I found, however, a plauſible [116] excuſe for it, by pretending that I was come a day or two too late, and that the merchants were, by that time, ſo ſhort of caſh that they could not ſupply me, but that they would remit me what I wanted ſoon after their return home. I likewiſe told my old landlady, to whom I was hardly indebted for a quarter of a year's board and lodging, that I expected two of them to be there ſhortly at an approaching fair, which was actually true, and ſhe knew and dealt with one of them for ſome ſort of goods, ſo that had I had the pa⯑tience to have ſtaid till then, my mother, who had expreſſed no ſmall reſentment at their ungenerous refuſal, would not have failed ſending me a freſh ſupply by them; whereas, hearing that I had left the place, ſhe ſent only what would pay the poor wo⯑man, whilſt I, unknown to her, or any one elſe, had taken a reſolution to return home, bare as I was of money and cloaths.

I lately took notice of my ſhameful pre⯑tence of being a kind of ſufferer for reli⯑gion, to ſome of my acquaintance, and tho' vanity and my then ill plight was my only incentive to it, I began now to think [117] it might be made a means of facilitating my long journey homewards; I went ac⯑cordingly and furniſhed myſelf with a kind of paſs, or certificate, at a proper office, ſignifying that I was a young ſtudent in theology, of Iriſh extract, and that I had left the country for the ſake of religion, by which is commonly implied the Ro⯑man Catholic, and that I was then going on a pilgrimage to Rome. This abſurd and falſe aſſertion coſt me ſince many a ſhameful lye to make it paſs for current, eſpecially as often as I met with any per⯑ſons who had any tolerable knowledge of Iriſh affairs, to which I was an utter ſtranger. I did, indeed, know ſeveral Engliſh and Iriſh, who had followed king James's fortune, and were well reſpected in France, Italy, &c. but my vanity could not be ſatisfied with the credit of paſſing for the ſon of ſome one of them; I wanted to have it thought my own voluntary act, that I forſook that country and my parents, and fortune, for the ſake of religion. Had the ſecretary, from whom I had procured that certificate, been ever ſo little diffident, my very name, which had nothing of Iriſh [118] or Engliſh, but which my pride would not let me forego, becauſe it had ſomething of quality in it, would eaſily have diſco⯑vered the roguery of the pretence; and this I mention to ſhew my raſhneſs and ignorance, of which I ſhall give a fur⯑ther inſtance, in the method I took immediately after obtaining the paſs, to equip myſelf in a pilgrim's garb; for I was not in a condition to purchaſe one, tho' it conſiſted only of a long ſtaff handſomely turned, and a ſhort leathern or oil-cloth cloak, not unlike what the women call a pelerine. However, I had obſerved ſuch a one in a chapel belonging to a pariſh-church, and dedicated to a miraculous ſaint, which, I ſuppoſe, had been ſet up there as a monument of gratitude by ſome wan⯑dering pilgrim come to the end of his jour⯑ney. The chapel was never without a number of devotees, who prayed and burnt tapers before the image of the ſaint; but this did not deter me from venturing in, and taking both ſtaff and cloak away at noon-day; had I been examined about it, I was only furniſhed with a juvenile pre⯑tence, that I looked upon it to be ſet up [119] there to accommodate ſuch pilgrims as could not otherwiſe provide themſelves with it. How far ſuch a poor excuſe might have gone I know not, neither did I trouble my head about it; however, I eſcaped without ſuch an enquiry, and carried it off unmoleſted, and made what haſte I could to ſome private corner, where I threw the cloak over my ſhoulders, and walked with a ſanctified gravity with the ſtaff in my hand, till I was got out of the city.

Being thus accoutred, and furniſhed with a paſs to my mind, I began at all proper places to beg my way in a fluent Latin; accoſting only clergymen, or perſons of figure, by whom I could be under⯑ſtood, and was moſt likely to be relieved; and I found them moſtly ſo generous and credulous, that had I had the leaſt propen⯑ſity to provide for hereafter, I might eaſily have ſaved a good deal of money, and put myſelf into a much more creditable garb, before I had gone through a ſcore or two of miles; but ſuch was my vanity and ex⯑travagance, that as ſoon as I had got what I thought a ſufficient viaticum, I begged no more, but viewed every thing worth [120] ſeeing, then retired to ſome inn, where I ſpent my money as freely as I got it, not without ſome ſuch aukward tokens of generoſity, as better ſuited with my vanity than my preſent circumſtances. The nearer I drew to my native place, the more irre⯑ſolute I grew, whether I ſhould pay a vi⯑ſit to my mother, or continue my journey to Rome; the concern I knew ſhe muſt be in about me, ſtrongly inclined me to the former, but my uncommon mean garb, which was become only more ſcandalous by the length of the journey, made me ſo aſhamed to be ſeen either by her, or any of my friends, that I fully reſolved on the latter. I had, in order to it, wheeled a⯑bout to the left, to leave the place at ſome twenty or thirty miles diſtance, and was got into a ſmall town where I little ex⯑pected to be known, when venturing on the Sunday into the church, at the time of high maſs, I was ſurpriſed to ſee ſome perſons, eſpecially two or three gentle⯑women, whoſe chief reſidence was at my native city, but who it ſeems were ſpending part of the ſummer at that place, and who, in ſpight of my being thus [121] tranſmogrified, did eaſily recall me to mind, and gave me to underſtand they did. I was ſo ſhocked at it, that I left the church at the moſt ſolemn part of the ſervice, when they were moſt intent on their de⯑votions, not caring to ſtand an examen from them, and made the beſt of my way through private paths, to avoid being caught if purſued. Whether I was ſo I know not, but the ſight of them made ſuch a ſtrong impreſſion on my mind, and raiſed ſuch an earneſt deſire in me of ſeeing once more that beloved city, eſpecially conſidering that it was now impoſſible to conceal either my way of travelling, or mean appearance from my friends, that as ſoon as I thought myſelf out of the reach of a purſuit, I took the direct road home⯑ward, with an intent to go and ſatisfy my poor anxious mother, before ſhe got the intelligence from other hands, and conſult with her, whether I ſhould purſue my journey to Rome, or get into any other way ſhe liked better. And I only took care to enter the city in the dusk of the even⯑ing, and got to her houſe unperceived by any but thoſe of the family.

[122]My poor mother was glad to ſee me, tho' ſorry to behold the mean garb I was in, and failed not, though with her uſual ten⯑derneſs, to chide me, for having made ſo bad an uſe of the opportunities, ſhe ſup⯑poſed I had had, of puſhing my fortune, which, ſhe knew as well as I, was but too much owing to my indolence. Much more reaſon would ſhe have had to chide me, had ſhe known how much of my time I had trifled away during the laſt year and half I had been abſent from her; but that I concealed from her, and the good woman was ſometimes inclined to think, that my too great eagerneſs after my ſtudies had made me neglect every thing elſe. But I was greatly ſurpriſed at the end of two or three days, during which I had kept as much from ſight as I could, to hear her propoſe to me, ſince I had found out ſo cheap, ſafe, and eaſy a way of travelling, to go and pay a viſit to my father, who then lived ſome hun⯑dreds of miles from her, and try what I could get him to do for me; and I had the more reaſon to wonder at her propo⯑ſal, becauſe ſhe knew, as well as I, that a [123] tradeſman of our town, who had been with him about two or three years before, had brought us a very indifferent account of his circumſtances. This made me ſu⯑ſpect that a couſin of mine, and a great fa⯑vourite of hers, whoſe fortune was in no wiſe ſuitable to his high ſpirit, had put that ſtrange project in her head, that I might be far enough out of the way of obſtructing her kindneſs to him. Whe⯑ther there was any real foundation for my ſuſpicion, I cannot ſay, but the ſurprize ſhe obſerved me to be in at her propoſal, made ſuch an impreſſion upon her, that ſhe forgot nothing that could aſſure me of her maternal and unalterable tenderneſs, alledging that ſhe only wanted to be bet⯑ter ſatisfied of the condition my father was in, than ſhe was from the report of the tradeſman above mentioned, and adding, that in caſe I found it not to my liking, and him as tender as I might expect, ſhe charged me expreſsly to leave him, and come back to her as ſoon as poſſible, and by no means to ſtay longer than a year from her, unleſs I could convince her that it was very much to my advantage.

[124]Being thus far ſatisfied of her maternal af⯑fection, I eaſily conſented to take the journey, having by that time contracted an inclination to ramble and ſee new coun⯑tries, and as it was a long and dangerous one, we thought it improper to alter my dreſs, the meaneſs of which would rather be a ſafeguard; however, ſhe thought fit to ſew up a ſmall quantity of gold to my cloaths, which, ſhe ſaid, would ſerve to buy me ſome better ones, when I came near the end of my journey. My ſtaff and cloak, with the addition of a long looſe gown, made of a light kind of black buck⯑ram to cover the reſt from duſt, were ſent by a man to a place on the road, about four miles off; and very early in the morn⯑ing I took a ſorrowful leave of my mo⯑ther, and ſhe of me, and ſhe repeated her charge to me to return to her, if I did not find things to my ſatisfaction. When I came to the place where my pilgrim's dreſs waited for me, I put it on, and went on not without a heavy heart, tho' with⯑out the leaſt doubt of my mother's con⯑ſtant affection. My direct rout was thro' the firſt great univerſity where I had be⯑gan [125] to ſtudy theology, ſo that I was forced to wheel about to avoid it, for fear of being known. All the reſt of the way I was an utter ſtranger to, and I met frequently with ſome objects that made me ſhrink, tho' it was a conſiderable high road; now and then at ſome lonely place lay the carcaſe of a man rotting and ſtinking on the ground by the way-ſide, with a rope about his neck, which was faſtened to a poſt about two or three yards diſtance, and theſe were the bodies of highwaymen, or rather of ſol⯑diers, ſailors, mariners, or even galley-ſlaves, diſbanded after the peace of Reſ⯑wick, who, having neither home nor occu⯑pation, uſed to infeſt the roads in troops, plunder towns and villages, and when ta⯑ken were hanged at the county-town by dozens, or even ſcores ſometimes, after which their bodies were thus expoſed a⯑long the highway in terrorem. At other places one met with croſſes, either of wood or ſtone, the higheſt not above two or three feet, with inſcriptions to this pur⯑port; ‘"pray for the ſoul of A. B. or of a ſtranger that was found murdered on this ſpot."’ Theſe deterring objects made me [126] willing to aſſociate myſelf to ſome fel⯑low-travellers whom I met on the ſame road; but ſuch was my vanity, that I never renewed the pilgrim's trade of begging whilſt any of my money laſted, but was rather laviſh of it on ſome of them, tho' I know not how ſoon I might feel the want of it; and I had not reſumed it long before I met with ſuch a mortification as made me heartily repent of my folly. I was to go through the celebrated city of Lyons, abounding with the fineſt buildings and other curioſities, which I was very de⯑ſirous to ſee; and when I came to one of the gates, was asked by an officer, in a li⯑very like our beadles, whether I wanted a viaticum? Not knowing the conſequence of his queſtion, I anſwered in the affirmative, and was bid immediately to follow him. I was ſurpriſed at the length of the way he led me, and obſerved ſeveral fine churches, palaces, ſquares, &c. which I ſtood ſtill to admire, but was not ſuffered to do ſo long; and at length, after about an hour and half's good walking, was told, that that was the oppoſite gate at which I was [127] to go out and purſue my journey; he then clapped a couple of pence into my hand, and told me, that I muſt not venture back into the city under ſome ſevere puniſh⯑ment, and left me quite aſtoniſhed and unable to reply. As ſoon as I had reco⯑vered myſelf, I began to reflect on my ex⯑travagance and diſappointment in a moſt lively manner, but thought it beſt, how⯑ever, to follow his advice, rather than ex⯑poſe myſelf to ſome ſhameful treatment, if I attempted to return. What increaſed my concern was, the fear of finding the ſame method obſerved in every great city I came to, but, happily for me, it proved otherwiſe, and I not only went through them all without moleſtation, but ſtaid in ſome of them long enough to view every thing worth ſeeing, and to converſe with men of learning and piety, from whom I received ſome tokens of their generoſity.

The misfortune was, that my raſhneſs and vanity would not ſuffer me to keep within due bounds, but I muſt ſet myſelf off to the higheſt advantage, by pretending to greater merit and learning than was conſiſt⯑ent [128] even with common prudence, as it ex⯑poſed me to the continual danger of a ſhame⯑ful diſcovery. I took notice heretofore how little progreſs I had made in the Greek tongue, rather through the igno⯑rance and neglect of ſome of my teachers, than want of capacity or application, but now I pretended to be not only maſter of it, but likewiſe in ſome meaſure of the Hebrew, though I knew not a ſingle let⯑ter of the latter, and had only ſeen ſome Hebrew books belonging to the Jews of Avignon, by which I juſt could diſtinguiſh that from other characters; the truth is, that neither that nor any of the oriental tongues, nor even the Greek, were much ſtudied by the clergy; ſo I was not under any great danger on that account, though I own I have been ſometimes foiled at the latter, becauſe I commonly addreſſed myſelf to the prieſts, among whom I met, now and then, with one who underſtood it. I muſt alſo acknowledge that I found the generality of them very charitable, and ſome of them even generous, though it the more redounds to my ſhame, ſeeing neither the meanneſs of my garb, of [129] which yet I was not a little aſhamed, nor the mortifying accidents that had happened to me could prevail upon me to ſave a ſhil⯑ling towards buying any thing better. I had indeed ſome hopes to do ſo, as I came nearer to my father, but here I was again juſtly diſappointed; the two or three laſt provinces I was to paſs through, hav⯑ing been greatly impoveriſhed, and even laid waſte by the late war, ſo that I found the clergy here leſs rich and generous, and ſo great poverty reigned among the laity, that I had much ado to get ſufficient ſub⯑ſiſtance among them. I ſhould likewiſe obſerve here, that every town, or even village I came through, had a number of Lutherans and Calviniſts, who were ſtill in a worſe condition, inſomuch that their miniſters were obliged to keep ſome poor inn or alehouſe for ſubſiſtance; ſo that by that time I had reached my father I was quite pennyleſs and threadbare. I pre⯑ſently, however, made myſelf known to him, though to his great ſurpriſe, not only on that account, but as it was ſuch an un⯑expected viſit, of which he had not had the leaſt notice given him, nor did at all [130] dream of. The city where I met him be⯑ing about three or four miles from his houſe, he clapped a ſmall piece in my hand, and directed me to a houſe where I might get ſome refreſhment, and towards night conducted me to his own home, which I was not a little ſurpriſed to find even meaner than our townſman had deſcribed to my mother and me. Here he bid me a freſh and moſt tender welcome, and ex⯑preſſed ſuch a viſible concern that he was not able to give me at leaſt as good enter⯑tainment as I had been uſed to with my mother, that I was hardly able to make him a proper anſwer.

And indeed the difference I found between the two places, the forlorn condition I ſaw myſelf in, the mean figure I made in an obſcure kind of village, my being now not only out of the way of any improvement, but in danger of loſing what I had got, afforded me ſuch a diſmal proſpect, that I could not eaſily conceal my uneaſineſs, and, in a little time, a more than ordinary deſire of returning to my old home, ſince this new one was in every reſpect ſo little inviting to me. He found it no leſs diffi⯑cult [131] to conceal his diſlike of my returning to my mother, and tried all he could to diſſuade me from it. He adviſed me to try my fortune at two or three neighbour⯑ing cities or univerſities, and I complied with his deſire, but found much greater diſcouragements than I could expect: firſt, the Jeſuits were the teachers in all of them, and I had ſtudied with the Dominicans, between whom and them there never was a right underſtanding, but rather quite the contrary. I was got into a new country, (Germany) where the pronunciation of the Latin differed ſo much from that I had been uſed to, that though no one could ſpeak it more fluently than I, I neither could underſtand them, nor make myſelf underſtood by them, without the greateſt difficulty. The country had been ſo ruin⯑ed by the war, that thoſe few mendi⯑cant ſcholars that remained in thoſe uni⯑verſities^*, might be rather ſaid to ſtarve than [132] to ſubſiſt. My youth and ignorance of the German tongue, as well as my foreign pronunciation of the Latin and Greek, would likewiſe have diſqualified me for being a tutor in any family, had there been any in a condition to have maintained one; ſo that after all my efforts, which I rather tried out of obedience to my fa⯑ther, than any likely hopes I could have of ſucceſs, I returned to him re infecta, all which only ſerved to revive my deſires of returning to my mother. But he being ſtill as averſe to it as ever, bethought him⯑ſelf of a new way to diſſuade me from it, and with ſo much art at the ſame time, that I could not diſcover his aim. He had ſeen the greateſt part of Europe, and [133] could give an extraordinary account of it; he underſtood ſeveral of its languages, particularly the Italian, French, Spaniſh and German, and expatiated much on the advantages he had gained by travelling; and expreſſed, at ſome diſtance, a deſire that I ſhould viſit ſeveral of thoſe coun⯑tries I had not yet ſeen, particularly thoſe of Holland, Flanders, and Brabant, which he highly commended for their opulence, and the great number of learned men they produced, and expatiated much on their hoſpitality, generoſity, and fondneſs for men of parts and genius, and how greatly I might be admired and promoted there on account of my learning, knowledge of languages and ſciences, and for having al⯑ready travelled through ſo many conſider⯑able parts of the world, all which he ſaid was the more ſurpriſing, as I was ſtill ſo very young, for I was then hardly full ſix⯑teen years old. He could not indeed have found a more effectual way than that of ſoothing my vanity, to make me give wholly into his views, and as to the objection of the want of money, conſi⯑dering how well acquainted I was with the [134] way of travelling at free-coſt, he ſaid I could not but promiſe myſelf much better ſucceſs through thoſe countries, where the peoples generoſity was equal to their known opulence.

I was now (unknown to him) to think of ſome more cunning, ſafe, and effectual way of travelling than that I had followed in my two former journies; and ſince I found that my paſſing for an Iriſhman and a ſufferer for religion, did not only expoſe me to the danger of being diſco⯑vered, but came ſhort of the merit and admiration I had expected from it, I re⯑ſolved on a new project, which, though equally hazardous, I had not ſenſe enough to foreſee, and tho' ſtill more diſhoneſt, I had not virtue enough to deter me from. I ſay, unknown to my father, for I had carefully concealed all the vile indirect pretences I had already uſed, and much more was I now obliged to do ſo, know⯑ing him to be ſo upright and religious a man, that I ſhould not only have incurred his utmoſt anger, but that he would like⯑wiſe have taken all poſſible means to have deterred me from, or diſappointed me in [135] it. I recollected, that whilſt I was learn⯑ing humanity, rhetoric and geography with the Jeſuits, I had heard them ſpeak of the Eaſt-Indies, China, Japan, &c. and ex⯑patiate much in praiſe of thoſe countries, and the ingenuity of the inhabitants. The idea they had given us of them was indeed too general and imperfect, at leaſt what I remembered of it, was by far too ſhort and confuſed, for a perſon of the leaſt pru⯑dence or forecaſt to have built ſuch a wild project upon, becauſe all the notion they had given us of it, was only from their maps and comments upon them, for they made uſe of geographical books. However, I was raſh enough to think, that what I wanted of a right knowledge of them, I might make up by the ſtrength of a pregnant invention, in which I flat⯑tered myſelf I might ſucceed the more eaſily, as I ſuppoſed they were ſo little known by the generality of Europeans, that they were only looked upon, in the lump, to be Antipodes to them in almoſt every reſpect, as religion, manners, dreſs, &c. This was my crude notion of the matter, which I thought afforded a vaſt [136] ſcope to a fertile fancy to work upon, and I had no miſtruſt of myſelf on that head. I had likewiſe heard that their way of writ⯑ing differed very much from ours, but how, and in what, I was altogether igno⯑rant, or had quite forgot it, and ſo took it into my head, that like the Hebrew, and other oriental tongues I had heard of, they muſt write from the right to the left, and on this puerile ſuppoſition, I ſet about ex⯑cogitating of an alphabet that might an⯑ſwer my purpoſe. Another thing that ſhewed my inconſiderate folly was, that tho' I could not but know that the Greeks and Hebrews had particular names for their letters, it never came once into my head to imitate them in that, as I had in the figures, powers, &c. of ſome of the letters on a ſuppoſition, that as they might flow originally from the ſame fountain, ſo they might be reaſonably imagined to re⯑tain ſtill ſome kind of reſemblance. The truth is, my time was ſhort, and know⯑ledge in what I went about ſo very ſmall and confuſed, and what I did was by ſtealth, and fear of being detected by my father; that I was ſoon after made ſenſible of my [137] want of forecaſt, when I came to con⯑verſe with proper judges, and found the neceſſity not only of inventing names for the letters, but to make ſeveral amend⯑ments to my wild ſcheme, as I became better acquainted with thoſe Eaſtern coun⯑tries.

However, conſidering my tender years, ſmall experience, and other ſuch diſad⯑vantages, I have had ſince no ſmall cauſe to wonder how I could excogitate not only ſuch an alphabet, and names of letters, but likewiſe many other particulars e⯑qually difficult, ſuch as a conſiderable piece of a new language and grammar, a new diviſion of the year into twenty months, a new religion, &c. and all out of my own head, in order to ſtuff them into that moſt abominable romance which I publiſhed ſoon after my coming into Eng⯑land, and which occaſioned ſuch variety of opinions concerning it, and its ſhameleſs author; ſome thinking it above the capa⯑city of ſuch a young fellow to invent, and others believing it the reſult of long thought and contrivance. Alas, for me, my fancy was but too fertile and ready for all ſuch [138] things, when I ſet about them, and when any queſtion has been ſtarted on a ſudden, about matters I was ever ſo unprepared for, I ſeldom found myſelf at a loſs for a quick anſwer, which, if ſatisfactory, I ſtored up in my retentive memory. But to return to my alphabet, as ſoon as I had finiſhed it to my mind, I began to inure my hand to write it with ſome readineſs, that it might upon occaſion appear natural to me, which I found the more difficult, as I never was expert at my pen, and was quite unuſed to this backward way of writing; and this obliged me to alter the form of ſome of them, for the more eaſy tracing them with the pen, and to con⯑trive ſome abreviations and joining of let⯑ters, and other ſuch improvements for ex⯑pedition, which done, I thought myſelf ſufficiently prepared for paſſing for a Japaneſe converted to Chriſtianity. The only difficulty was, how to reconcile this new and vile aſſumption with my Avignon certificate, which was not to be done but by copy⯑ing it anew, and altering it where I ſaw fit, and clapping the ſeal from the origi⯑nal one to the counterfeit; but though I [139] was ready enough at wording it to my mind, I wrote ſo indifferent a hand, that it could never paſs for that of a ſecretary of a vice-legate, and to have had it done by a better penman was too difficult and hazardous for me to venture. At length I thought it ſafeſt to truſt to my copying it as well as I could, with its flouriſhes and ornaments, though I did it in ſuch a coarſe and clumſy manner, that it would hardly have paſſed for a tolerable counterfeit. There was likewiſe another danger of a diſ⯑covery from the different marks and make of the German and Avignon paper, but that never came then in my head; ſo that having made what alterations I thought proper in the tenor of the paſs, and clap⯑ping the old ſeal to it, I made no difficulty to truſt the reſt to fortune, and took a melancholy leave of my poor father, who ſhed abundance of tears over me, and wiſhed me all poſſible bleſſings and ſuc⯑ceſs, not dreaming how little this new pro⯑ject of mine deſerved of either; and when I was got at ſome diſtance from him, I put on my old pilgrim's habit, and began my journey with a kind of heavy heart, [140] according to the rout he had penned down for me, and which was quite oppoſite to that which would have brought me to my own home. I had, indeed, taken care to write to my anxious mother, and to ac⯑quaint her with what had paſſed between my father and me, and with my deſire of taking a tour into the Low Countries be⯑fore I returned to her, but I had afterwards reaſon to fear, that the melancholy ſtyle in which it was worded, did rather increaſe than mitigate her concern for her now really worthleſs ſon; for, from that time, neither ſhe, nor yet my father, ever heard of me more, nor I of them, and, in all likelihood, both of them have bewailed my loſs at a much greater rate than I de⯑ſerved, if it did not prove the means of ſhortening their days.

The reader may ſee by all this, what a raſh and abandoned fellow I was, how loſt to all ſenſe of religion, nature and rea⯑ſon, and how I expoſed myſelf to ſo many dangers, over head and ears, to indulge a fa⯑vourite paſſion, and without the leaſt proſpect of reaping any benefit from it, or even aim⯑ing at it. However, this is nothing in com⯑pariſon [141] of what is to follow, and it is ra⯑ther a wonder that ſo bad a beginning, ſo ill concerted, and worſe followed, hath not had a more dreadful ending, and I can only aſcribe it to the undeſerved mercy of God, that it did not end in my total ruin of body and ſoul. And I muſt deſire the reader to bear ſtill in mind the conſi⯑deration of my tender years, and the diſ⯑advantages of my wrong education, if he intends to read what is to follow with any tolerable patience, at leaſt till he comes to ſome more agreeable ſcenes: In the mean time, as I am now entering into One of the blackeſt ſhame and guilt, I ſincerely pro⯑teſt, that it is the fartheſt from my heart to aggravate or extenuate either, in order to render the following account more ſur⯑prizing or agreeable, but to relate the whole with the ſame ſincerity, as I ſhould be willing to do it, or wiſh it to have been done, at my laſt moments. And I hope I ſhall be the more readily believed, as I do not deſign to have it printed till after my death, when all ſiniſter views will be quite taken away, and nothing be able to yield any ſatisfaction on the other ſide of the [142] grave, but the conſciouſneſs of its ſincerity, eſpecially conſidering that I ſhall leave nei⯑ther children nor relations to reap any be⯑nefit from this narrative. But to return to my propoſed rout:

I was at firſt to viſit all the conſiderable cities on both ſides of the Rhine, as they lay in my way to that of Cologn, whither I pretended to go on a religious pilgrimage to the three kings, whoſe remains are ſaid to be there interred in the cathedral^*, to which there is a great reſort of devotees almoſt all the year: for the Germans are equally fond of pilgrims that come to any of their great ſaints, as the Italians are of thoſe that come to Rome or Loretto, or [143] the Spaniards to thoſe that go to St. Jago de Compoſtella; ſo that I did not doubt of meeting with a kind reception wherever I came. I ſhall not take up the reader's time in deſcribing the places I came through, that being much better done in books of travels; but only obſerve, that I found them all in a moſt diſmal plight, moſt of the fine buildings ruinated, noble palaces with only the bare walls, half de⯑moliſhed, cathedrals, and other ſtately churches, built of the fineſt marble and other coſtly ſtones finely carved, battered half down, and nothing left fit for divine ſervice but the choir or chancel, which in many places were quite unroofed, and only thatched with ſtraw. All the reſt appear⯑ed in a ſtill more woeful condition, where⯑ever the conquering arms of Lewis XIV. had penetrated, for this was but a few years after the peace of Reſwick, ſo that they had not had time to recover them⯑ſelves from theſe dreadful ravages.

An accident happened to me before I had gone far, which, had I been leſs raſh and inconſiderate, might have deterred me from purſuing my ſham pilgrimage farther. [144] It was at the city of Landau, garriſon⯑ed by the French, and commanded by an old experienced officer, and was then a very ſtrong place, and the laſt town they had in Alſace. The familiarity I was ob⯑ſerved to carry on with ſome of the infe⯑rior officers and ſoldiers of the garriſon, who were pleaſed with the whimſical ac⯑count I gave of myſelf and my pretended country, made me ſuſpected of being a ſpy, and as ſuch I was accordingly con⯑ducted by a file of muſqueteers to the go⯑vernor, who, not being ſatisfied with my account, ordered me to be ſent to gaol, where I was at firſt confined in a noiſome place for ſome hours, but afterwards ad⯑mitted to the liberty of the priſon till the next day, when I was conducted in the ſame manner out of the city, and forbid, under the ſevereſt penalties, to return into it^*. This dreadful eſcape might, one [145] would think, have opened my eyes to ſee the folly and danger of my ill-concerted ſcheme, as well as reminded me of my promiſe of returning to my poor anxious mother, if I did not think fit to ſtay with my father. But my religion and prudence were much of a piece, juſt ſufficient to make me apply myſelf to heaven in time of danger, which was no ſooner blown over, but I as quickly forgot what I owed to either, except that I looked on myſelf as obliged to aſſiſt at the church offices, ſuch as maſs, veſpers, &c. as often as opportunity offered, which I continued do⯑ing till a more wicked and abominable project made me leave it off. Theſe par⯑ticulars may perhaps be thought too tri⯑fling to my readers to be worthy inſerting, but to me they appear in a quite other light, and do but too plainly ſhew how naturally one miſcarriage draws on a worſe, [146] where religion and reaſon have unhappily loſt their influence, or yielded it to a predo⯑minant and ungovernable paſſion, and how eaſily the indulging of it will, by de⯑grees, come to quench all remorſe and conviction, and unleſs the Divine Grace interpoſes, hurry a man into utter perdi⯑tion. And as no man hath more ſenſibly felt the ſad effects of the one, as well as the bleſſed ones of the other, what can I do leſs than acknowledge and adore that divine and undeſerved mercy, to which a⯑lone I owe ſo great, and I hope effectual, deliverance? And what cauſe have I not to be, to the higheſt degree, thankful that I had ſuch early impreſſions of religion inculcated into my mind, and which tho' ſuppreſſed and ſmothered for a long time, by the violence of a favourite vice, did yet, in God's own time, bring me into a ſenſe and abhorrence of my paſt follies, and, in ſome meaſure, drove me from the moſt dreadful danger into the arms of a merciful and forgiving Saviour, and that in ſo wonderful and unhoped for a manner, that it was impoſſible for me to attribute [147] the bleſſed change to any thing but to a ſupernatural grace and mercy?

I ſhall, however, in the ſequel, be more ſuccinct, eſpecially in my account of what happened to me from Landau, to the fa⯑tal time in which I was unwarily drawn into the moſt abandoned piece of impoſ⯑ture, that of my pretended converſion to Chriſtianity by Dr. James, then chaplain to a Scotch regiment garriſoned at Sluys; for to mention all thoſe particulars would not only appear a moſt ſtupid and tedious, but an almoſt incredible ſeries of the moſt unaccountable follies and diſaſters that any raſh youth could fall into. It will be ſuf⯑ficient to ſay, that I travelled ſeveral hun⯑dred leagues through Germany, Brabant and Flanders, under the notion of a Japa⯑neſe converted to Chriſtianity by ſome jeſuit miſſionaries, and brought to Avig⯑non, by them to be farther inſtructed, as well as to avoid the dreadful puniſhment inflicted on all that turn Chriſtians in the dominions of the emperor of Japan. In purſuance of which ſhameful pretence, I kept up an outward form or religion, was frequent at church, and was ſometimes [148] affected with thoſe duties, and, at other times, pinched with a tranſient remorſe and ſhame at the conſciouſneſs of the wicked part I was then acting. My fluency in the Latin tongue, and ſmattering of other branches of learn⯑ing, eſpecially logic, philoſophy and the⯑ology, of which my tenacious memory ſtill preſerved ſome of the moſt curious parts, joined to the flagrant account I gave of myſelf, procured me, indeed, more re⯑gard and a greater ſhare of beneficence, than was commonly ſhewed to other tra⯑vellers or pilgrims, but my careleſſneſs and extravagance not ſuffering me to lay out any money in dreſs, or even linnen, to keep me clean and decent, I, by degrees, made ſo diſmal and ſhabby an appearance, that I outdid the very common beggars, and this misfortune brought on worſe upon me. For firſt, it gave ſuch an ill face and diſcredit to all my pretences, as all my learning could not counterbalance; and 2dly, when I came into ſome conſiderable cities, which I was deſirous to ſee, and where they have hoſpitals for pilgrims and ſtrangers, with ſuitable accommodations according to their rank, appearance, or re⯑commendation, [149] commendation, I ſhewed, in vain, my counterfeit paſs, which, if I had been in a better trim, would, from the advantageous manner in which I had dreſſed it, have procured a much better reception; thoſe who attend on ſuch occaſions would ſel⯑dom give themſelves the trouble of read⯑ing it, though I begged of them ſo to do, but, taking it for granted, that I was one of the loweſt rank, or deſerving to be treated as ſuch, did generally herd me a⯑mong the meaneſt, by which I ſaw my⯑ſelf in a ſhort time covered with rags and vermine, and infected with a moſt virulent itch. This diſmal plight, one would have thought ſufficient, to rouſe me from my ſenſeleſs lethargy, and make me follow the example of the returning prodigal, eſpe⯑cially, as I found, to my great mortification, that all my fair ſhew of learning, made me appear now only the more deſpicable in the eyes of the ſoberer part; for how could even thoſe, who gave any credit to what I told them, forbear ſuppoſing that I muſt have been guilty of ſome great enormity, or elſe the Jeſuits, by whom I pretended to have been brought out of Japan into [150] Avignon, would never have given me up to ſo ſhameful a vagabond life; and no doubt but the far greater part believed it all a forgery, though they did not think it worth the while to have me called to an account for it. Thus did I find my affairs grow from bad to worſe, inſomuch that I was often pinched with want, and glad would I have been to have returned home to my mother; but the thought of my pre⯑ſent condition would not permit me to think of it, and, perhaps, I could have preferred any death to ſo great a morti⯑fication as it would have been both to her and me. I have, however, had reaſon to think it a mercy that I had ſuch an inve⯑terate itch, added to all my other misfor⯑tunes, for I perceived that in ſeveral great cities of Brabant and Flanders, there are a ſort of procureſſes, who wander about the ſtreets under the character of Begines^*, [151] and pick up all the likely fellows they meet with, in order to make a lewd trade of them; and I being then very young, ſanguine, and likely in perſon, have now and then been invited and led by them in a ſeeming hoſpitable manner, to ſome cha⯑ritable ladies to receive, as was pretended, ſome token of their generoſity, but, in reality, to return a leſs commendable one to the benefactreſs. But my diſtemper, whether or no it was imagined to be of a worſe kind than it was, proved ſuch a diſguſtful bar, that I never was put to the trial, otherwiſe I am ſure neither my vir⯑tue nor prudence would have been proof againſt it; for though I was then abſolutely innocent of any criminal commerce with any of the ſex, yet, circumſtanced as I was, I have reaſon to believe I ſhould eaſily have yielded at any hazard, and this fur⯑ther conſideration made me ſtill more weary of my wretchedneſs.

[152]I was at length come to the celebrated city of Liege, and ſtayed ſome time there, to view all the curioſities of the place, and at night took up my lodging at the hoſpital, where we were likewiſe allowed ſome kind of ſupper. There I was informed that an officer was arrived at one of the ſuburbs belonging to the Dutch, who inliſted peo⯑ple into the Dutch ſervice, and gave good encouragement to ſuch vagrants as appear⯑ed fit to carry a muſket. I had no great hopes that I ſhould paſs muſter with him, being both too young and ſhort, as I thought, for his purpoſe: however, I re⯑ſolved to try, and ſoon perſuaded half a dozen of my fellow ragamuffians to follow me; but as nobody could have a greater averſion than I to a ſoldier's life, by what I had ſeen at my native place, where was always kept a ſtrong garriſon, I began to wiſh I might meet with a repulſe. The reſt were preſently inliſted by the pretend⯑ed officer, for he only bought them to ſell them again; but when he came to me, and had heard my patched up ſtory, in⯑ſtead of ſeeming diſcouraged from taking ſuch a raw and tender boy, he really, to [153] my great ſurprize, ſhewed me an uncom⯑mon regard, tho' I made the worſt figure of any of his recruits; and I could by no means conceive the reaſon of it till near a month after, during which time we were well entertained at an inn, wanting for neither victuals nor drink. He ſoon ob⯑ſerved me to be averſe to ſtrong liquors, and indulged me in it. At length, having ſold away all his recruits but me, he began to tell me that he had too great a regard for me, to ſend me with them to carry a brown muſket, and that he deſigned ſome⯑thing better for me, and more ſuitable to my education; but that he muſt firſt try to get me cured of the ſcabious diſeaſe, which by that time had ſpread itſelf all over my ſkin. Accordingly he tried all proper medicines, got me phyſicked, a⯑nointed, blooded, bathed, &c. but with⯑out ſucceſs. Being at length obliged to return to his then home, he got me hand⯑ſomely equipt, and took me to Aix-la-Chapelle, where I found he kept a grand coffee-houſe, and billiards, and other games, in the moſt handſome part of the city, over againſt the town-hall, and here I [154] was to wait on the cuſtomers, and to teach a boy of his to read, &c.

I had reaſon to believe that my new-maſter had conceived hopes that I ſhould bring a good number of cuſtomers to his houſe; and, as for myſelf, I ex⯑pected to find no ſmall ſatisfaction in be⯑ing ſeen, and ſuffered to diſplay my parts among them. But we found ourſelves both diſappointed, in a great meaſure, be⯑cauſe, tho' it was then the heighth of the ſeaſon for drinking the waters, and the town was full of people; yet the greateſt part of them were ſeldom to be ſeen any where but at the pump, and the walks about it, and theſe were at another and diſtant part of the town; ſo that there was hard⯑ly any reſorted to his coffee-houſe, except gentlemen that came thither to ſpend an hour or two at billiards, backgammon, baſ⯑ſet, or ſome other game, and theſe were men of little or no taſte for learning, ex⯑cept two or three French refugees, who appeared to me to be profeſſed gameſters. Theſe, and now and then ſome German gentlemen, that dropped in by chance, would condeſcend to divert themſelves [155] with my company, queſtion me about variety of things, and hold an argument with me about ſome curious or inſtructing ſubject, and at their going away commonly left ſome marks of their generoſity, which, however, my maſter gave me to underſtand, I was to be contented with ſuch a ſhare of as he ſhould pleaſe to allow me.

Beſides his coffee-houſe, he furniſhed the balls, and other places of that reſort, with lemonade, orgeat, and other cooling li⯑quors proper for the ſeaſon, as well as with variety of drams for ſuch as liked them. And here it was that I beheld the beau monde in ſuch extraordinary ſplen⯑dor, as was like to have been of the moſt fatal conſequence to me, and to have drove me to the moſt deſperate piece of folly and madneſs that a man in his ſenſes could have been guilty of, and which I ſhall forbear mentioning, merely for the ill im⯑preſſion it might be apt to make on ſome weak and ſceptical minds; but which, while I live, I ſhall never forget, nor ceaſe bleſſing the divine mercy which kept me back from it. And it was well for me that I was ſent thither but once more, tho' [156] another man he kept, much older and fitter for the buſineſs, was obliged to give daily attendance there; and I can only think that my cuticular diſeaſe, which diſ⯑played itſelf too viſibly in my hands, was the cauſe why I was ſo ſeldom ſent thi⯑ther.

Before the ſeaſon was over, my maſter, who had other irons in the fire, was obliged to go to Spa, ſome German leagues from Aix-la-Chapelle, for a fort⯑night, during which time a great noble⯑man, at leaſt one who paſſed for ſuch there, had run himſelf pretty deep in his debt, by ſome grand entertainments he had given on ſeveral occaſions; and it was now whiſpered about, that he was juſt on the point of diſappearing. My miſtreſs, upon the firſt hint of it, told me I muſt immediately ſet out and fetch her huſband. The time was ſo ſhort, and the way ſo long and difficult, conſidering that I was to go on foot, that there was ſcarcely any probability of my reaching the place time enough, and much leſs ſo, conſidering I was a ſtranger to the road and to the lan⯑guage, that I would have willingly ex⯑cuſed [157] myſelf from it, and have perſuaded her to have diſpatched a man and horſe to him, but ſhe was a haughty dame, and above being adviſed, ſo that I was forced to comply, though without any hopes of getting there time enough, in which caſe it would be of no ſervice to him, eſpeci⯑ally if I ſhould chance to loſe my way, of which there was ſo much the more danger, as it was very intricate, and I knew not a ſtep of it, nor how to be in⯑formed about it, for want of the German tongue. And indeed, though I took all the care I could, I found before I was got half way to the place, that it would be impoſſible for me to avoid being ſo often out, through the various windings and turnings, and croſs-roads I frequently met with, that I deſpaired of reaching it in double the time. The anxiety and fear I was in was ſo great, about the reception I ſhould meet with, both from him and her for my ſucceeding ſo ill, that I began to think of preventing it, by giving them both the ſlip. My heart, however, heſi⯑tated a good while, and upbraided me with the ingratitude and injuſtice I was [158] going to be guilty of, as likewiſe with the danger I might incur, ſhould I be caught afterwards by him; for in ſuch a caſe, I muſt have expected nothing leſs than the higheſt marks of his reſentment. But when I conſidered, on the other hand, that all my care and diligence could not bring me to him time enough, and that I ſhould be ill treated for that which I could not avoid, I preferred a diſtant danger to one ſeemingly at hand; and being then juſt going to croſs a high road, which I was told led to the city of Cologn, immediately took to it, with a reſolution to return to my father, and then to my mother, by the ſame way I had formerly gone. This laſt conſideration was then ſtrong with me, as it revived in my mind the concern and grief they muſt be in about me, eſpecially my poor mother, who had heard nothing from me ſince that melancholy letter I ſent to her upon leaving my father. The thoughts of ſeeing again two ſuch dear pa⯑rents, had ſo enlivened me, that it had in a great meaſure effaced all other reflec⯑tions, particularly the remorſe of my in⯑gratitude to my late maſter. But here I [159] was again diſappointed, not only of that happineſs, but even from the very proſ⯑pect and hopes of it, and that juſtly too, and by my own ſtupid folly. And ſince the Divine Providence had ſo wonderfully de⯑livered me from the dangers and miſeries of a ſoldier's life, by inſpiring my maſter with ſentiments, whether of gain or pity, or both, and I had made ſuch ungrateful re⯑turns, both to God and him, it was but juſt I ſhould plunge myſelf into the mi⯑ſery and danger I was ſo unworthy to eſcape.

I had already paſſed through Cologn, and Bon the reſidence of the elector of Co⯑logn, and got to another city of his elec⯑torate likewiſe on the Rhine, when upon my entering it at one of the gates, I was accoſted by a perſon genteely dreſſed, who, among ſeveral other queſtions, aſked me if I was willing to enter into that elector's ſervice, and uſed ſome of the uſual topicks to induce me to it. I was ſurpriſed at his queſtion, and readily enough anſwered in the negative, but was ſoon after per⯑ſuaded by him to accept his offer, tho' without the leaſt force or circumvention, [160] and merely by my own weakneſs and ſtu⯑pidity, or rather ſome judicial fatality, for nothing leſs than that I ſhould think could have made me alter the laudable reſolution I had taken, or ſo eaſily ſet aſide the thoughts of reviſiting and reviv⯑ing two ſuch dear and afflicted parents once more, after I was got ſo far in the way to it; but this was not the only misfortune that attended this raſh and unnatural action, which rather proved the fatal ſource of new ſcenes of miſeries and wickedneſs.

The liberty that is commonly granted to ſoldiers to ſwear, game, drink, whore, &c. is very great among the Germans, and much more among the French; theſe laſt may be juſtly affirmed to be the moſt profligate of any I ever have known or read of. There is no crime or lewdneſs they will not commit, no oaths or curſes ſo terrible they will not delight in. They ſeem deſtitute of all ſenſe of religion and ſhamefacedneſs, and ſo wholly careleſs a⯑bout a future ſtate, that I have ſeen many of them go to the gallows for deſertion with as much unconcern, and ſome of them [161] with a ſeeming jocundity, as if they were mounting the guard; and not one of them did I ever obſerve to ſhew the leaſt ſign or repentance, fear of death, or concern about another life. Thoſe we had in this regi⯑ment were, if poſſible, ſtill worſe, being moſtly deſerters from the French ſervice, and to the laſt degree profligate: and if there was any one among them that was more ſoberly or religiouſly inclined, he was ſure to become the object of their ſcorn and contempt, and to be baited like ſome wicked or monſtrous creature, a vaſt num⯑ber of which we had in this regiment; and theſe, coming to be intermixed with a number of raw young German recruits, taken ſome from the plough and cart, others from their trades, and ſome even from the Univerſities, did debauch them into all manner of wickedneſs. This was the un⯑happy herd I was now got among, and whoſe company and example compleated my ruin, by extinguiſhing thoſe few faint traces of religion I had left. I was indeed neither inclined to drinking nor gaming, and was not hardened enough in impu⯑dence to follow them in their lewdneſs; [162] but was bad enough, nevertheleſs, to in⯑dulge myſelf, in order to appear as vile and abandoned as they, in a ſhameful habit of uttering ſuch new and faſhionable oaths, and monſtrous curſes, as I had lately rather heard with horror, than learn⯑ed, at Aix-la-Chapelle; and as I was ſtill as ambitious as ever to paſs for a Japoneſe, choſe to profeſs myſelf an unconverted or heatheniſh one, rather than what I had then pretended to be, a convert to Chri⯑ſtianity. My vanity ſoon made me begin to make an aukward jeſt and ridicule of the moſt ſolemn and ſacred truths of the Goſ⯑pel, and to take a brutiſh delight at the ſurprize which the more ſober people of the town I converſed with, expreſſed at my blaſphemous and prophane expreſſions and objections, as well as in the pleaſure I obſerved this gave to my fellow-ſoldiers, or rather fellow-brutes.

As the former had obſerved me to be, in all other reſpects, a ſober young fellow, given to no vice; and found me likewiſe maſter of ſome ſenſe and learning, they began to expreſs an uncommon compaſſion for me, and, believing me a heathen in⯑deed, [163] propoſed to me to enter the liſts with ſome of their learned prieſts or monks, who, they doubted not, would eaſily con⯑vince me of my error and danger; tho' they themſelves had not been able to do it. It can hardly be doubted, but ſuch a vain abandoned fellow as I was, would readily accept the offer. To have declin⯑ed, would have betrayed a diffidence I was not capable of; ſo that I pleaſed myſelf with having a fair opportunity of diſplay⯑ing my parts and learning againſt my an⯑tagoniſts, and either to ſtand proof againſt all their arguments, or yield myſelf con⯑vinced by them, according as I ſhould find it ſuit beſt with my vanity or intereſt; for if I found it worth my while to chuſe the latter, I thought I ſhould appear to the world as a convert of uncommon ſize, and gain no ſmall applauſe by it. There was but one thing could make me heſi⯑tate about it, viz. the horrid guilt I ſhould plunge myſelf into by ſuch a vile piece of hypocriſy, and I own it made ſome im⯑preſſion upon my mind; but it proved ſhort-lived, and my own ſanguine temper ſoon got the maſtery of it, and I at length [164] conſented to be introduced to a Capuchin of that city, who was eſteemed a man of great piety as well as learning, and who had been appriſed before of the intended viſit, and the purport of it.

When we came to the monaſtery, we found the good old capuchin ſitting on a bench, in an outward room of it, facing the gate, with a luſty young woman kneeling before him, barking like a dog, and making a great many other antick noiſes and poſtures; upon which I was told that ſhe was poſſeſſed, and that the good father was exorciſing the evil ſpirit out of her. Whether ſhe was then ſent for on purpoſe, or came by accident, I know not; but I remembred to have ſeen her at ſome proceſſions, and once or twice at church, in the ſame unaccount⯑able attitudes; and, as I was then weak enough to think it a real poſſeſſion, from her extravagant actions and words, I be⯑gan to fear, ſo great is the power of guilt on ſome occaſions, that the devil might either expoſe me for the vile part I was then acting, or perhaps do me ſome other and worſe miſchief, as he had formerly [165] done to thoſe vagabond exorciſts of whom we read Acts xix. 16. to avoid which I withdrew as ſoon as I decently could, as if to leave him to go on with his exorciſm. Whether he took it in this ſenſe or not, I know not; but at our next meeting, when ſhe was out of the way, he took occaſion from thence to prove the truth of the Chriſtian religion in general, and of the church of Rome in particular; and that her prieſts alone have the power of caſting out devils. I told him, with a ſmile, that it would be time enough to inſiſt on the mi⯑racle, or enquire into the reality of it, when it was actually performed; to which he replied, with an air of great pity and ſe⯑riouſneſs, that God did frequently permit ſuch poor creatures to be tormented for ſome time, before he vouchſafed them a deliverance; but that tho' exorciſms and prayers would not avail till then, yet they were obliged in charity to make uſe of them, in hopes that they would one time or other prove ſucceſsful.

As we came to enter into other arguments, I found that the good old Capuchin was better provided for a controverſy againſt [166] Proteſtants than againſt heathens, which gave me no ſmall advantage againſt him; and this I took with ſuch an aſſuming air, and lightneſs of mind, that could not but be diſpleaſing to him; this was ſo na⯑tural to me, that I never could forbear diſ⯑playing it upon all ſuch occaſions, and no wonder if it gave them great cauſe to think me either not ſerious enough for the momentouſneſs of the diſpute, or per⯑haps rather that I was nothing leſs than what I pretended to be. I cannot indeed recollect, that any thing like this laſt was their real judgment of me, from any thing that dropped from them, though it was but too viſible to be the caſe, if their cha⯑rity did not blind their judgment in my favour; however, I could ſee plainly e⯑nough from their uneaſineſs, that they were not likely to be very forward in repeat⯑ing our conferences, and I was vain e⯑nough to impute it to my being an over⯑match for them in the diſpute. And it was in the ſame vain boaſting ſtrain, that I affirmed in that fabulous account I gave of myſelf in England, that I was diſcharg⯑ed out of that ſervice for being a heathen, [167] and for refuſing to yield to the arguments of thoſe who had attempted to convert me. The aſſumption was abſolutely falſe, and I was diſcharged by order of the colonel, becauſe I was not only below the ſtandard, but alſo too tender for the fatigues of a ſol⯑dier's life. And indeed I cannot expreſs the miſeries we underwent in the ſervice of that prince, who was then ſo eminently poor, that great numbers of his troops pe⯑riſhed for want of cloaths, fewel, and e⯑ven of bread; and had I not been treated with greater care and tenderneſs than moſt of the reſt were, muſt inevitably have pe⯑riſhed in a very hard winter at Bon, where, beſides the want of all other ne⯑ceſſaries, the greateſt part of the garriſon were quartered in barracks open to all winds and weather, and forced to lie on the bare boards.

Being thus happily diſcharged from ſo dreadful a ſlavery, it was natural for me to think once more of returning to my long-wiſhed-for home, at any rate, and at all hazards; but here likewiſe my ill fate had laid an unexpected obſtacle, which it was not in my power to remove; for my late [168] captain, a ſordid wretch, who had been raiſed to his poſt from that of a common centinel, by the baſeſt means, had taken thoſe cloaths I had brought from Aix-la-Chapelle under his care, and, as he pre⯑tended, to prevent my ſelling them, and ſpending the money; but upon my being diſcharged, refuſed to reſtore them to me, though he ſtripped me of my ammunition ones, and had the conſcience to ſend me away in the heart of a ſevere winter, with a bare looſe old frock of blue linnen, and without waiſtcoat or ſhoes to my feet, for thoſe he gave me were [...]o worn out that my feet touched the ground, ſo that I could never have travelled far before the hardneſs of the weather would have made an end of me. This made me reſolve to go back to Cologn, and try how far my diſmal plight and fluent tongue would work upon peoples charity; but it being then war⯑time, I was ſtopped, as is uſual in garri⯑ſoned cities, at the gate, and conducted to the main guard, to give an account of myſelf to the officer then on duty. I did ſo, and lighted on a perſon, who was really a gentleman, and took ſuch liking [169] to me, that I liſted myſelf in his company, and was preſently after ſupplied with cloaths fitter for the ſeaſon. I paſſed to him for a Japoneſe and a heathen, and was entered in his company under the name of Salmanazar, which, ſince my coming into England, I altered, by the addition of a letter or two, to make it ſomewhat different from that mentioned in the book of Kings, but whether my new captain believed what I told him or not, I be⯑came no ſmall favourite of his. He was a man of good ſenſe, ſpoke Latin and French well, and had ſome good ſcholars in his company, one or two of them of the church of Rome, whereas the regi⯑ment conſiſted moſtly of Lutherans, it be⯑longing to the duke of Mecklenburg, but was then in the Dutch pay, and garriſoned at Cologn.

That great city is, perhaps, one of the moſt ſuperſtitious in all Germany; every ſtreet and every houſe hath the ſtatue or image of ſome ſaint or other, to which they light candles at night, but moſtly to that of the Virgin Mary. Our Lutherans, in ſpight of all prohibitions from the ma⯑giſtracy, [170] could not forbear ſhewing their diſlike and contempt to theſe, and many other ſuperſtitious cuſtoms they beheld, and were ſometimes puniſhed for it. Yet did not this deter me from taking pride in outdoing them, though I was ſo far from having the ſame laudable pretence for it, that in my heart I condemned them for their untimely zeal, and myſelf for my impious vanity. We had likewiſe ſeveral looſe gentlemen brought up in ſome of the beſt univerſities, who had been prevailed upon to exchange their gowns and books for a musket; ſome of them were Proteſt⯑ants, others Papiſts, and with theſe our chief officers delighted to ſet me on diſ⯑puting, by which I had gained their ill will ſo far, as I generally proved too hard for them, that they had ſtigmatized me with the titles of heathen, infidel unbap⯑tized, and the like; but theſe, inſtead of giving me any uneaſineſs or remorſe, ra⯑ther ſoothed my pride, and made me now and then, upon a proper occaſion, take de⯑light to remind them that I could give better reaſons for my being ſo, than they could for themſelves. My captain think⯑ing [171] that our chaplain, who had been brought up a regular clergyman in the Lutheran way, might ſucceed better with me, propoſed a conference to him; but he being a baſhful young gentleman, modeſtly declined it, and con⯑tented himſelf with expoſing the folly and abſurdity of the heatheniſh religion in ſome of his ſermons, where he had a large field to expatiate on, without the danger of oppoſition. I was afterwards introduced to two others, one who ſerved the Lutheran meeting at Cologn (for they tolerate Proteſtant meetings in time of war for the uſe of the garriſon, though they ſhut them up in time of peace) and the other a man of great learning, at a ſmall diſtance from the city. Our diſputes proved but of ſhort duration, I always attacking them upon ſuch points, as I knew they were the leaſt able to defend, but by Scripture, which I pretended not to believe, but urged even thoſe very points, ſuch as the Trinity, Conſubſtanti⯑ation, &c. as arguments againſt it; and this, as well as my vain and aſſuming be⯑haviour, might eaſily raiſe a diſlike, if not [172] more likely, a miſtruſt of me. One thing I had occaſion to obſerve, that where Papiſts and Proteſtants are ſo intermin⯑gled, their guides are better ſtored with arguments againſt each other, than a⯑gainſt the common enemies of the Chriſtian faith.

From Cologn we were ordered into Hol⯑land by the next ſpring, and began to encamp as ſoon as the campaign began. The Lutherans and Calviniſts had prayers morning and night at the head of every regiment, and a ſermon on Sundays, and I was vain enough to go from one to the other to obſerve their method of devotion, and ſinging of pſalms and hymns, at which they both behaved with great ſeriouſneſs: but as for me, after liſtening awhile to them, I was commonly driven by my raſh⯑neſs and vanity to turn my back to them, and turning my face to the riſing or ſet⯑ting ſun, to make ſome aukward ſhew of worſhip, or praying to it, and was no leſs pleaſed to be taken notice of for ſo doing. This vain fit grew up to ſuch a height, that I made me a little book with figures of the ſun, moon and ſtars, [173] and ſuch other imagery as my phrenſy ſuggeſted to me, and filled the reſt with a kind of gibberiſh proſe and verſe, writ⯑ten in my invented character, and which I muttered or chanted as often as the hu⯑mour took me.

I have often juſtly wondered at the ſingu⯑lar goodneſs of God to ſuch a vile aban⯑doned wretch as I was become by this time, that in neither regiment, in which I had continued, as I remember, about two years, during which a ſharp and ſe⯑vere war was carried on with equal fierce⯑neſs, it never was my lot to be com⯑manded to a ſiege, battle, party, ſkirmiſh, or place of danger, in which I might have been ſuddenly cut off in the midſt of a moſt impious career; or, what is equally ſurpriſing, that the apprehenſion of ſo dreadful an end, ſhould not have deterred me from ſo ſenſeleſs and wicked a courſe, and made me feel the monſtrous ſtupidity of running ſuch deſperate hazards of body and ſoul, for the ſake of a little popular admiration at the beſt; but, inſtead of which, I have more frequently met with mortification and contempt. But I was [174] ſtill very young, to the beſt of my remem⯑brance not above eighteen, if quite ſo much; my mind miſguided by a wrong education, as I have before obſerved; conſcious of my own want of any real merit, and yet fond to exceſs for any kind of pretence to it; and ſo deſirous of being admired and taken notice of, that, rather than have foregone that favourite paſſion, I would have choſen to indulge it, I verily believe at that time, at the hazard and expence of being looked upon as the very vileſt fellow that ever lived. As for thoſe impreſſions of religion which I had ſo ſtrongly imbibed in my youth, they gradually loſt their influence in proportion to my giving way to that deſtructive paſ⯑ſion, and, at the beſt, were more in my head than in my heart, till it pleaſed the divine grace to tranſplant them thither, as the propereſt ſoil for their fructifying; but this bleſſing did not come down to me till after ſeveral years, and a variety of ſcenes of impiety and guilt. I ſhall paſs by the other occurrences of my ſoldier's life, to come to that fatal one which proved the [175] ſource of new and more horrid offences againſt God and man.

The laſt garriſon I came to was at Sluys, where was a French and a Scotch regi⯑ment in the Dutch pay. There I ſoon be⯑came acquainted with ſeveral of the French officers, whoſe language I perfectly under⯑ſtood; but as I was wholly unacquainted with the Scotch and Engliſh, and few of them could ſpeak Latin, I could not be ſo converſant with them. I found moſt of thoſe French gentlemen very ſuperficial, and did not a little indulge my vanity in ridiculing their tenets, whether they were Papiſts or Proteſtants, for there was a mix⯑ture of them, and had occaſion to obſerve (tho' to my ſhame, had I had the leaſt ſenſe of the vile part I played) that, tho' the greater number of them were given to ſuch flagrant vices as are but too common among gentlemen of that profeſſion; yet they all appeared ſo firmly attached to the tenets of their particular churches, that they expreſſed much more uneaſineſs at thoſe ſarcaſms I uſed to throw out, than they did at the moſt dreadful oaths they commonly ſwore, or any vices that [176] reigned among them. And as I ſtill kept myſelf untainted from the latter, and had long ago broke myſelf of that horrid one of ſwearing, which I had taken up on my firſt entrance into the ſoldier's life (not ſo much indeed out of a principle of religion, as from an ambition I had of paſſing for a moral heathen) I frequently uſed to ob⯑ſerve to them the unreaſonableneſs of their untimely zeal, which made them ſo readily condemn me for what they called my irreligious ſarcaſms, which yet were but agreeable to my notions and belief, whilſt they indulged themſelves in vices, ſuch as duelling, wenching, ſwearing, and drinking, which were not only incom⯑patible with theirs, but ſuch as, bad as they thought me, I could not on any con⯑ſideration be guilty of. Theſe kinds of ſe⯑vere rebukes ought, I ſay, to have filled me with the deepeſt ſenſe of my own more vile and abominable inconſiſtency; but as that did not ſo openly appear, the applauſes I received from the ſober part, and even from ſome of the miniſters, for ſo ſtrenuouſly pleading the cauſe of virtue, made me quite blind to my more [177] odious vices; ſo that as long as the cha⯑racter or ſhadow of moral virtue procured me ſo much regard and eſteem, I never troubled myſelf about the want of the real ſubſtance.

Brigadier Lauder, a Scottiſh gentleman, well reſpected, and colonel of a regiment in that garriſon, was then governor, and, unhappily for me, conceived a curioſity of ſeeing me at his own houſe, where were aſſembled ſeveral officers, beſides the miniſter of the French church, and Mr. Innes, chaplain to the Scottiſh regiment; and after dinner I was admitted to have a kind of conference with them. I own, indeed, that the account I gave of it in that publiſhed romance of mine, was far enough from candid or impartial, with re⯑ſpect to the French miniſter, who was the chief manager in the diſpute, my uſual vanity having made me relate it too much to his diſadvantage, and Mr. Innes, be⯑tween whom and that gentleman there was a great miſunderſtanding, added ſome other particulars, equally miſrepreſented and mortifying; but, abating that, the reſt is the trueſt part I can call to mind in that [178] forged narrative of myſelf. However, Mr. Innes, ſince dubbed doctor by one of the Scotch Univerſities, and a near rela⯑tion to the governor, would not loſe ſo fair an opportunity of triumphing over his rival, and finding that I had nonpluſſed him at almoſt every argument, but more particularly againſt that of abſolute predeſti⯑nation, took occaſion to inform me that it was a doctrine as much condemned by ſome, as it was ſtrenuouſly aſſerted by other churches, and that conſequently Chriſti⯑anity, he would undertake to prove, was not to be charged with it. He had a much ſmoother and leſs overbearing way of ſpeaking than the other gentleman, and kindly invited me to his lodgings, where we might, at our leiſure, diſcuſs that or any other points in diſpute, not doubting but a perſon of my ſenſe, learn⯑ing, and ſeeming candor (as he was pleaſed to compliment my vanity) would eaſily yield to conviction, when the point was once cleared to my ſatisfaction, as he did not doubt he ſhould ſhortly do.

I readily accepted of his invitation, by which I found he deſigned to exclude the [179] French miniſter from having any ſhare in our future conferences, but did not then ſuſpect his farther drift, which was, if he could, at any rate, or by any means, make a convert of me, to recommend himſelf to the then worthy biſhop of Lon⯑don, a perſon, he knew, of ſuch ſingular candor, as not to be over ſuſpicious, and too generous not to encourage what he thought a charitable, worthy action; ſo that, as I eaſily found afterwards, the hopes of procuring ſome preferment to himſelf, rather than any regard or con⯑cern for me, was the main ſpring of all his pretended zeal for my converſion. I am ſorry that I ſhall be obliged, in the ſequel, to relate ſeveral very harſh truths concerning his behaviour on this ſcandalous occaſion, though I will be ſtill careful to mention no more of it than is barely neceſſary to ſet the matter in a true light, and rather conceal than expoſe ſuch parts of it, as have not an immediate relation to the ſub⯑ject I am upon; much leſs will I go a⯑bout to aggravate his faults, in order to extenuate my own. If he ſhould be ſtill alive when theſe memoirs ſhall be publiſhed, [180] will not be the firſt thing that has been publiſhed with truth and juſtice to his diſ⯑advantage, and may all contribute to in⯑ſpire him with a true remorſe and ſincere repentance: if dead, it can neither hurt him, nor any that belong to him^*. He [181] was, however, intent upon his purſuit, and ſo aſſiduous in ſending for me, that ſome of the Dutch miniſters thought fit likewiſe to do the ſame, and more parti⯑cularly, as I found afterwards, to recon⯑cile me to their favourite article of pre⯑deſtination, by expounding it to me ac⯑cording to what they call the infralapſarian ſyſtem, which is indeed leſs dreadful and antiſcriptural; but Mr. Innes eaſily diſ⯑ſuaded me from going amongſt them, that he might have me wholly to himſelf, and ſeldom failed at our parting to clap a ſmall piece of Dutch ſilver into my hand, which proved an effectual bait to me, who was ſtill ſo bad an oeconomiſt of my poor ſol⯑dier's pay, and then wanted ſeveral neceſ⯑ſaries, with which this ſupplied me.

By this time I began not to be a little tired with a ſoldier's life, the place was very cold and bleak, the duty hard, and the pay ſo ſmall, that even they who could make the moſt of it, could but juſt make ſhift to live on the plaineſt things; ſo that all things conſidered, there was no likelihood I ſhould make any long oppoſition to his arguments, eſpecially as he took care to [182] back them with very large promiſes of get⯑ting my diſcharge, and bringing me into England, where he made me hope to meet with the greateſt encouragement, and I own that the proſpect of ſuch a change of life made ſo great an impreſſion upon me, that he rather found me more for⯑ward to anſwer his deſign than was con⯑ſiſtent with prudence, and too ready to be wholly directed by him. As ſoon as I had given him this aſſurance, he wrote a long letter to the biſhop of London, wherein he told me he had ſaid ſo many things in my favour, that he doubted not of my ſoon being ſent for by, and meeting with the kindeſt reception from him. However, the wiſhed-for anſwer not com⯑ing till ſix or ſeven weeks afterwards, gave me an opportunity of ſeeing farther into his temper, than I had been able to do; his meſſages to me were gradually leſs frequent, our interviews more cold, as well as our parting, when he likewiſe with-held his hand from making me the uſual preſents. This latter I indeed ſup⯑poſed might be owing to his caſh running lower than uſual; but I have ſeen ſo many [183] inſtances of his nigardneſs, that I have more reaſon to impute it to that, and partly to his deſpairing of the ſucceſs of his letter; for whilſt he was in hopes of it, he had taken care to introduce me to ſome learned gentlemen, miniſters and o⯑thers, under pretence of examining whe⯑ther I was capable of giving a ſatisfactory account of my pretended converſion, and had obtained from ſome of them very ad⯑vantageous certificates in my favour, which he took no ſmall pride to ſhew to the brigadier and to his other acquaintance; but upon the unexpected delay of the an⯑ſwer, he behaved with more coldneſs and indifference, till a jealous thought ſtarted in his mind, leſt that ſhould encourage ſome of theſe miniſters, who had expreſſed themſelves in my favour, to take the bu⯑ſineſs out of his hand, and rob him of the credit of his new convert. This ſuſ⯑picion made him all at once alter his be⯑haviour, and reſolve to baptize me with ſuch haſte and ſo little warning, that my ſurprize gave me no time to conſider what an abominable piece of irreligion I had engaged myſelf in, though I muſt confeſs, [184] to my ſhame; that had he given me more time to think upon it, yet I have but too much reaſon to think, his fair promiſes and deluſive proſpects would eaſily have ſwal⯑lowed up all my ſcruples and reluctance, upon his firſt renewal of them.

This, and ſome other parts of his beha⯑viour, had already convinced me that a charitable deſign of converting a ſoul was the fartheſt from his thoughts, and that he was ſo far from believing me to be what I pretended, that he had ſome time before taken a moſt effectual way to con⯑vince himſelf of the contrary, beyond all poſſibility of doubting. His ſtratagem, if I may ſo call it, was to make me tranſlate a paſſage in Cicero de naturâ deorum, of ſome length, into my (pretended) For⯑moſan language, and give it to him in writing; and this I eaſily did, by means of that unhappy readineſs I had at invent⯑ing of characters, languages, &c. But, after he had made me conſtrue it, and deſired me to write another verſion of it on another paper, his propoſal, and the manner of his exacting it, threw me into ſuch viſible confuſion, having had ſo little [185] time to excogitate the firſt, and leſs to commit it to memory, that there were not above one half of the words in the ſecond that were in the firſt. His deſiring me to conſtrue this likewiſe, confuſed me ſtill more; eſpecially, when he ſhewed me the palpable difference. The ſerious air he aſ⯑ſumed upon it, made me expect nothing elſe than a total rupture, and his expoſing the impoſture in the manner I was conſci⯑ous it deſerved. I was however agreeably (and, to my ſhame, I ought to add) de⯑ceived; and he finding, by this unexpect⯑ed trial, what a memory and readineſs I had, and how qualified I was to carry on ſuch a cheat, began to clear his brow, and calm the diſorder he had thrown me into, by a more chearful and friendly look; but did not forget, at the ſame time, to give me to underſtand, tho' at a great diſtance, that I ought to take care to be better pro⯑vided for the future. I promiſed to take his advice, and did ſo in part; but was become too indolent to go thro' the fatigue of forming a whole language, at leaſt till I was convinced that it would ſtand me in ſome ſtead; though, by what I have tried [186] ſince I came into England, I cannot ſay but I could have compaſſed it with leſs difficulty than can be conceived, had I been capable of applying cloſely to it. However, his continuing his aſſiduity and ſeeming regard for me, at leaſt till the delay of the biſhop's anſwer, which made him ſuſpend it for ten or twelve days, gave me but too much reaſon to think, that he had not one jot more of conſcience or re⯑ligion than I, tho' older, and a learned di⯑vine, ſince he made no ſcruple not only to join in, but to encourage and purſue ſo vile a cheat. But if he had no more re⯑ligion, he had at leaſt more worldly pru⯑dence than I, in that he laid the founda⯑tion for ſome conſiderable preferment for himſelf; whilſt I, like the ſtupid abandon⯑doned wretch I had been hitherto, looked no farther than a little vain ſatisfaction for the preſent, or, at moſt, a deliverance from the ſoldier's life. For by that time I could ſee ſo far thro' all his artifices, and different behaviours, that I did not much depend on any of his other promiſes. And he ſoon after gave me cauſe to think my⯑ſelf not miſtaken in him. For when, upon [187] his bringing me into England, he got him⯑ſelf into the poſt of chaplain-general of the Engliſh forces in Portugal, by the intereſt of the good biſhop Compton, he not only left me to ſhift for myſelf, and to bear the brunt of all objections, but was guilty of ſuch other vile actions, as eaſily con⯑vinced me that he was a more real convert to Spinoziſm, than I was to him; for I obſerved him often reading that au⯑thor's poſthumous works, tho' he was an utter ſtranger to his ſober way of living. I had likewiſe a greater opinion of his parts and learning, than I have ſince found cauſe for, which made me conclude, that I had no reaſon to be more ſcrupulous than he, and this in a great meaſure quelled all my ſlight and tranſitory qualms, at leaſt till it came to the ſolemn puſh.

I have already hinted, that his fear of being ſupplanted by ſome other miniſter, made him reſolve to haſten the impious cere⯑mony, for ſo I thought it, whatever he did; but of this he had appriſed me only in general terms, and without fixing any time for it, or mentioning how he deſign⯑ed to perform it, probably that I might [188] think the leſs upon it. Accordingly ſome days paſſed without my ſeeing him, or at leaſt hearing any thing about it, when one afternoon he ſent his man to my lodgings, to acquaint me that he had fixed that evening about ſix of the clock for it, and to deſire me to be ready againſt the time. As I had hardly three hours to conſider of it, one may eaſily imagine the ſurpriſe and hurry, the confuſion and dread, it threw me into; and, indeed, I was ſo divided between the fear of bringing upon myſelf ſome heavy judgment for ſo impious a pro⯑phanation of that divine inſtitution, and the thoughts, if I ſubmitted to it, of be⯑having with ſome proper decency under all thoſe tumults with which my mind was then agitated, that I began to wiſh I might have reſolution enough to avoid it, when the dreaded time was come. But that not only failed me, when I ſaw the governor and ſeveral other officers and gentlemen going to the chapel, where the mock cere⯑mony was to be diſpatched; but the devil, I believe, did then find a way of calming my conſcience for the preſent, by putting it into my head that it being to be per⯑formed [189] by a heretic, for ſuch I then judged, if not all the Proteſtant miniſters, at leaſt ſuch a one as I now knew my un⯑godly guide to be, it could be indeed no ſacrament, nor a repetition of it. And this confuſed diſtinction I then called to mind from what I had learned at the ſchools, tho' I was far enough from being ſatisfied that it was right. What ſalvo he had for himſelf, I can only gueſs; but, as far as I could perceive, he went thro' the ceremony with a very compoſed counte⯑nance and preſence of mind, and ſeeming devotion; and tho' he only had his Engliſh common-prayer book before him, yet he read the office all in a good Latin off-hand, as the ſaying is, and without any heſita⯑tion or ſoleciſm, as thoſe obſerved who heard him with greater attention than I was then capable of. For tho' I was a perfect maſter of the Latin, and he pro⯑nounced it, as moſt of his countrymen do, in a very intelligible manner; yet ſuch was my confuſion and hurry of ſpirits, that I ſcarcely knew or could mind one word he ſaid. And a much greater one, I dare affirm, I ſhould have been in, had I been [190] either able to attend to the ſolemnity of the office, or had been made acquainted with it before. But I was an utter ſtranger to every part of it; and it is my opinion, that he choſe I ſhould be ſo, for he never once ſhewed, much leſs explained, the leaſt part of it in any of the meetings I gave him at his lodgings. All I could recollect of the whole, was that I kept up ſo much preſence of mind, as to appear demure and ſerious all the while, which I thought very long, and that I was very glad when it was over, and much more ſo that my abominable hypocriſy had not been detect⯑ed, or rather puniſhed, by ſome ſevere judgment.

The name he gave me was that of George Lauder, which was that of the governor, whom he had prevailed upon to paſs for my godfather; and it was accordingly en⯑tered into the muſter-roll, inſtead of that of Salmanazar, which I had till then an⯑ſwered to. This new name and ſurname, joined to ſome congratulations then given me, and a preſent of a piſtole from the governor, made me, for ſome time, for⯑get the heavy guilt I had plunged myſelf [191] into. But this calm proved but ſhort, and the delay of the biſhop's anſwer, and much more Mr. Innes's coldneſs and in⯑difference, after he had once made ſure of me, ſoon brought me to repent of my wicked compliance, as I then judged it, though not ſo much from a ſenſe of reli⯑gion, as becauſe I did not look upon my vanity and ambition ſufficiently recom⯑penſed for the atrocious guilt I had con⯑tracted; and this the reader will the better judge by what follows.

The long expected letter came at length; it was full of commendations to Mr. Innes for his zeal, beſides a very kind invitation to me from that worthy prelate, to come over into England. I was by that time ſo weary of a ſoldier's life, that I ſhould have readily come upon a leſs promiſing proſpect than that which he now began again to feed my ſanguine hopes with. Some things he talked to me quite incon⯑ſiſtent with what, as I before hinted, he knew of me, and which of courſe could be no temptations to me, unleſs I was baſe enough to add ſtill more weight to my guilt; of this kind in particular was what [192] he mentioned to me of a deſign of ſend⯑ing me to Oxford, to teach the Formoſan language to a ſet of gentlemen, who were afterwards to go with me to convert thoſe people to Chriſtianity, which, if he be⯑lieved any thing of, he muſt needs de⯑pend upon my inventing ſuch a language, and involving myſelf in ſtill deeper guilt; and yet I own, to my ſhame, though I knew not with what view he could men⯑tion ſuch a propoſal, nor looked upon it but with dread, yet I could not forbear being much elevated with it, though I was ſtill in hopes that I might find ſome pretence for ſetting it aſide, and being made uſeful there in ſome other and more ſuitable way. How I might have behaved in ſuch a caſe I know not, only I have reaſon to queſ⯑tion whether I ſhould have had integrity and reſolution to have confeſſed the truth, rather than to have involved myſelf in a ſtill more ſhameful impoſture; but, as I obſerved before, I knew him too well to rely on any of his fluent and diſingenuous promiſes.

[193]The governor, at his requeſt, got me diſ⯑charged, or rather gave my captain ano⯑ther man in my room, whilſt Mr. Innes took care to procure a certificate ſigned by that gentleman and a number of other officers of the garriſon, and even by ſeve⯑ral miniſters, much more in my commen⯑dation than I could poſſibly deſerve; after which, having got all things in order for our departure, we ſet out for Rotterdam, where he introduced me to ſome perſons of conſideration for piety and learning, particularly the celebrated Mr. Baſnage, au⯑thor of the Continuation of the Jewiſh Hiſtory, and likewiſe to ſome of the mi⯑niſters and gentlemen of the Engliſh church, and to ſome of the French Pro⯑teſtants there; among whom I was ſo much careſſed, that I begun to look upon myſelf in a very agreeable and advan⯑tageous light. There were, however, two things that mortified me not a little, viz. the mean appearance I made in ſome caſt⯑off cloaths, with which Mr. Innes had ſupplied me upon my leaving off my regi⯑mental ones, but which were both too big and too long for me, and the ſhrewd queſ⯑tions [194] put to me by ſeveral gentlemen, which convinced me that they did not give all the credit I could have wiſhed, to the ac⯑count I gave of myſelf and country. For as to any real remorſe or concern for the ſhame⯑ful part I was acting, I found it ſit lighter on my mind, in proportion to the many things I met with that flattered my vanity. The more effectually therefore to remove theſe two obſtacles to it, I fell upon one of the moſt whimſical expedients that could come into a crazed brain, viz. that of liv⯑ing upon raw fleſh, roots and herbs; and it is ſurpriſing how ſoon I habituated my⯑ſelf to this new, and, till now, ſtrange food, without receiving the leaſt pre⯑judice in my health; but I was bleſſed with a good conſtitution, and I took care to uſe a good deal of pepper, or other ſpices, for a concocter, whilſt my vanity, and the people's ſurprize at my diet, ſerved me for a reliſhing ſauce.

We embarked at the Brill for England in the packet-boat, and in our paſſage had ſuch a dreadful ſtorm, that as many paſ⯑ſengers, and among them Mr. Innes, got into the long boat, as it could well con⯑tain. [195] They all ſhewed an uncommon dread in their looks, whilſt I, who ſtaid behind, beheld them with a kind of ſtu⯑pid unconcern, rather than a generous pity, every moment in danger of meeting with that dreadful end they had endeavoured to avoid; yet, terrible as the ſight was, it hardly raiſed in me one ſerious reſolu⯑tion againſt the more dangerous deſign I was unhappily embarked in, or the more dreadful ſhipwreck I had expoſed myſelf to, that of the ſoul; or if any ſuch thoughts came then into my mind, they were ſoon diſpelled at our landing at Harwich, and at the pleaſing proſpect with which Mr. Innes had flattered my ambition and va⯑nity. At my arrival at London, Mr. Innes, and ſome worthy clergymen of his acquaintance, introduced me to the biſhop of London, by whom I was received with great humanity, and got ſoon after a good number of friends among the clergy and laity, moſt of them perſons of piety and worth. But I had a much greater number of oppoſers to combat with, who put me under a neceſſity of having my ſenſes and memory about me more than ever, to avoid [196] a fatal detection; for I had been ſo negligent, notwithſtanding Mr. Innes's caution of be⯑ing prepared, againſt exigencies, with a lan⯑guage and a prudent readineſs at reading and writing my new invented character, that had I been attacked on that ſide, I muſt have been infallibly foiled; but they took a contrary way, and though they judged rightly of me in the main, yet I can ſafely affirm, that they have been very far from being candid, or even juſt in the account of the diſcoveries they pretended to have made, to my diſadvantage; parti⯑cularly Drs. Halley, Mead and Woodward; and as I had then ſeveral zealous patrons of great candor and integrity, who made it their buſineſs to ſearch into the bottom of thoſe reports, they found ſo much ſo⯑phiſtry and diſingenuity in them, that I cannot but obſerve here, that the too viſi⯑ble eagerneſs of theſe gentlemen to ex⯑poſe me, at any rate, for a cheat, ſerved only to make the more ſerious and candid part think the better of me, and to look upon me as a kind of confeſſor, eſpeci⯑ally as the three gentlemen abovementioned, but more particularly the firſt, were known [197] to be no great admirers of the Chriſtian revelation, to which my patrons thought I had given ſo ample a teſtimony. My complexion, indeed, which was very fair, appeared an unanſwerable objection againſt me; there being but few ſuch to be met with in thoſe hot climates, eſpeci⯑ally that of Formoſa, which lies under the tropic; but by the help of what I had read or heard of ſome of thoſe coun⯑tries, I ſoon hatched a lucky diſtinction between thoſe whoſe buſineſs expoſes them to the heat of the ſun, and thoſe who keep altogether at home, in cool ſhades, or apartments under ground, and ſcarce ever feel the leaſt degree of the reigning heat. And this diſtinction indeed is not only very reaſonable, but was afterwards confirmed by perſons of candor and ex⯑perience, who had been in thoſe countries, and affirmed that they had ſeen perſons as fair as any northern Europeans, tho' not in ſo great a number, that lived under the rays of a vertical ſun.

On the other hand, my oppoſers were as much at a loſs how to find out my real country, either by my idiom, or my pro⯑nunciation [198] of the Latin, French, Italian, or any other language I was maſter of. For though this may appear an eaſy thing to be done, by thoſe who are acquainted with the European languages, and the dif⯑ferent pronunciations peculiar to every na⯑tion, yet both my idiom and pronuncia⯑tion were ſo mixed and blended, and I may ſay deſignedly ſo, by the many lan⯑guages I had learned, and nations I had been converſant with, that it was impoſſi⯑ble for the moſt curious judge to diſcover in it any thing like an uniform likeneſs to any other European one they knew of. Dr. Mead, indeed, took upon him to be very poſitive from both, that I was of ei⯑ther German or Dutch extract; he could not have pitched upon a more unlikely one, ſeeing the Dutch idiom and language were the only one I was the leaſt acquainted with, and accordingly ſome of my friends, who were better judges of ſuch matters, and could plainly ſee that mine was more oppoſite to them than to any other, did freely cenſure him for it, and tell him he might as well have affirmed me to be an Ethiopian from my complexion, as a Ger⯑man [199] from my pronunciation. But the truth was, I knew enough of all of them to blend my diſcourſe more or leſs with any of them, as either to put people up⯑on the wrong ſcent, whilſt I kept every one from getting into the right one; for I can ſafely ſay that I never met with, nor heard of any one, that ever gueſſed right, or any thing near it, with reſpect to my native country.

I might here add ſeveral viſible advan⯑tages which my friends might juſtly take in my defence, and among them a great number of ſcandalous falſhoods diſperſed abroad from what quarter I know not, of which thoſe, who were better acquainted with me, knew me to be wholly innocent, as well as crimes. I was naturally averſe to, ſuch as drinking, gaming, &c. for, bating my vain-glori⯑ous foible, which, though I could not overcome, I took ſuch care to conceal from them by the moſt oppoſite behavi⯑our, my converſation was ſuch as the moſt cenſorious could not have blamed, but which my friends highly admired in me. The plainneſs of my dreſs and diet, [200] the little trouble I gave myſelf about worldly wealth, preferment, or even ac⯑quiring or ſecuring a bare competency, a good-natured and charitable diſpoſition, viſibly natural to me, my averſeneſs to drinking, lewd women, &c. and a great reſervedneſs to ſuch of the fair ſex as had either loſt their reputation, though they lived ſtill in credit and ſplendor, and even to thoſe who betrayed too ſmall a regard for their character, the converſation of whom I profeſſedly avoided, though againſt my own intereſt, not indeed ſo much from a principle of virtue, as an affectation of it; theſe, together with the warmth I natu⯑rally expreſſed for religion, and the real delight I took in the public offices of it, appeared ſuch convincing proofs of my ſincerity, that thoſe of my friends, to whom I was moſt intimately known, were the moſt impatient, and diſpleaſed to have it called in queſtion; for who could imagine, as they often urged, that a youth of ſo much ſenſe and learning for his years, ſo ſeemingly free from am⯑bition and other vices, could be abandon⯑ed enough to be guilty of ſuch abomi⯑nable [201] an impoſture and impiety, for the ſake of a little plain, homely food and ray⯑ment, beyond which he neither makes the leaſt effort, or ſeems to have the leaſt wiſh.

I am aware that what I have ſaid in the laſt paragraph, will ſo far carry the face of my once favourite vanity, that it will be cen⯑ſured by ſeveral of my readers as a rank piece of oſtentation, rather than a ſincere acknowledgment of my guilt; tho' a more candid one, who joins both parts of it to⯑gether, will rather ſee, that the diſplay of the one, is only the greater aggravation of the other. But as neither was the motive of what I have there ſaid, but rather to do juſtice to thoſe friends of mine who ſo kindly took my part on that account, I had much rather undergo cenſure a⯑gainſt myſelf, than to have omitted any thing that can vindicate their character, and convince the world that the zeal they expreſſed for me, was really the effect of a moſt candid and charitable conſtruction on a life ſo ſeemingly innocent and diſin⯑tereſted, and not owing to any raſh or blind prepoſſeſſion, or to an unreaſonable [202] oppoſition againſt my cenſurers, much leſs to diſhoneſt connivance with any views or deſigns of mine; when I am very ſure, that if they had had any well-grounded ſuſpicion of my being what I was, an im⯑poſtor, they would have been the firſt who would not only have expoſed me to the world, but would have become my moſt irreconcileable enemies. And I thought myſelf the more obliged, in juſtice as well as gratitude, to ſay thus much in their vindication; becauſe ſome of them, men of probity and learning, undertook to be my advocates in print, and not only complained of thoſe aſper⯑ſions ſo freely and unjuſtly caſt upon me, but even challenged my accuſers, in ſe⯑veral advertiſements publiſhed in the Lon⯑don Gazzette, to prove any of them againſt me, or to produce any one ſolid proof or objection againſt the account I had given of myſelf. Notwithſtanding, which cha⯑ritable efforts on my behalf, and the can⯑did vindication they printed ſome months after, both they and I had the mortifica⯑tion to find (and I have had ſince great reaſon to bleſs God for it) that my fabu⯑lous [203] account was as much diſcredited by the greateſt part of the world as ever; which proved an effectual means, in time, to bring me, thro' his mercy, to a deeper ſenſe of my folly and impiety, than I could have been, if that had gained a more ge⯑neral credit.

There was likewiſe a variety of judgments formed about me, by thoſe who thought me a cheat. Thoſe of the church of Rome believed I was bribed to that impoſture by ſome Engliſh miniſters, on purpoſe to ex⯑poſe their church. The Proteſtants in Holland were much of the ſame mind; but added, that I was farther hired to explode their doctrine of predeſtination, and cry up the epiſcopacy of the church of England, in derogation of their Preſby⯑terian government. Here ſome repreſented me as a jeſuit or prieſt in diſguiſe, others as a tool of the nonjurors, becauſe Mr. Innes had introduced me among a ſet of them, particularly the famed Mr. Leſley, of whoſe writings, as well as inſtructive and facetious company, I was very fond; and I may add, that their converſation had not a little biaſſed me to their principles, [204] eſpecially as I found them ſo conformable to the ſchool divinity I had learned be⯑yond ſea, tho' it never affected me ſo far as to go to any of their meetings. How⯑ever, the reader may ſee, by what I have ſaid hitherto, that all theſe various opinions were but random ſhots, and without any foundation. And indeed my caſe was ſo intricate and perplexing, that it was next to impoſſible for the ableſt heads to have gueſſed what my motives were, or for what, or by whom, I was induced thus to impoſe upon mankind. And I am fully perſuaded, that my being wholly innocent of any ſuch vile deſigns, either againſt the church or ſtate, or of being employed by the enemies of either, was the cauſe of my diſappointment turning ſo much to my advantage, which might otherwiſe have been attended with a more fatal and ſhameful cataſtrophe; and that the merci⯑ful judge of all hearts, knowing mine to be actuated only by mere youthful folly and vanity, without any other dangerous or guilty deſign, than the indulging a wild and phrantic paſſion (which was grown too powerful for me to reſiſt, with that [205] little ſhare of reaſon and experience I was then maſter of, and with theſe diſadvant⯑ages and temptations I laboured under) did, in his great pity, prevent my going on and periſhing under ſuch a load of un⯑repented guilt, and I accordingly deſire to be ever thankful for that great and unde⯑ſerved inſtance of his divine mercy and goodneſs. And, next to my humble ac⯑knowledgment of it, I do think myſelf bound to declare thus ſolemnly, that I never was ſet upon, nor directly or indi⯑rectly inticed, by any ſet of men for any private ends, to act the part I did, except what I have lately related of Mr. Innes's encouragements and promiſes to me, in which I am very well ſatisfied he had no other ends to ſerve, but that of his own private intereſt and advancement.

I am far enough however from reflecting upon, or bearing any reſentment againſt thoſe who looked upon me as a tool of ſome deſigning ſet of men, engaged in ſome private deſign. It was not natural to ſuppoſe that ſuch a young, and, in all appearance, as well as reality, raw and unexperienced fellow, could of his own [206] head have imbarked in ſuch an impoſ⯑ture, and carried it on ſo long, and with ſuch boldneſs and ſucceſs, as to have pro⯑cured to himſelf ſo many zealous patrons among men of character for learning and probity, unleſs he had been privately ſet upon, inſtructed, and ſupported in it, by ſome deſigning perſons of more years, diſcretion, and abilities, tho' from what quarter was not eaſy to gueſs, either from my behaviour, writings, or any view they could perceive me in purſuit of. As for thoſe who took me for a jeſuit, prieſt, or emiſſary from Rome, they were certainly the wideſt from the mark. The gentle⯑men of that church were always my moſt ſtrenuous oppoſers, and not without cauſe, as they could be very ſure that whatever deſign or errand I might be embarked in, it could not be in favour of it; and had my fabulous account met with that credit which it muſt be ſuppoſed was expected, it muſt have done their cauſe more diſ⯑ſervice than any private deſign I might carry on could have done good. Beſides, it was viſible I ſhunned their company as much as poſſible, tho' my motive for it, [207] the conſciouſneſs of my own guilt, was not ſo apparent. I never converſed with any of them, but in the jarring and con⯑troverſial way; and, tho' at that time much againſt my conſcience, was a ſtre⯑nuous oppoſer of their particular doctrines, both in converſation and writing. I never once entered into any of their chapels, (nor have ſince, all the time I have been in England) neither did I ſhew the leaſt favour or partiality towards them. This was indeed rather looked upon as an arti⯑fice, ſaid to be very uſual and common amongſt them, it being urged as an ob⯑ſervation of a long ſtanding, that thoſe diſguiſed emiſſaries affected to appear the moſt outrageous enemies of that cauſe they were privately carrying on. Whether the fact be true or not, I can only ſay, that I never knew of any ſuch but by hearſay; neither am I any farther concerned about it, than to ſay, that I was the fartheſt from being one of that ſort, and that whatever I have ſaid or written againſt that church, was only with a view of gaining credit to myſelf, without any view of ſerving or hurting it, or indeed caring which of the [208] two was likely to be the reſult. For tho' all the arguments I had heard or read a⯑gainſt it, and in which I was not a little verſed, had not yet been able to wipe off the prejudices of my education, which I had imbibed under the jeſuits and domi⯑nicans, of its being, if not the only ſaving church as they affirm it to be, yet, at leaſt, of its not being ſo bad and corrupt, ſo dan⯑gerous and damnable a one as ſome Prote⯑ſtants, with more zeal than charity, have repreſented it, under the odious titles of Anti-chriſt, whore of Babylon, &c. never⯑theleſs, my youth and inconſiderate vanity would not ſuffer me to enquire whether or no, or how far, I incurred a guilt in my oppoſing and expoſing it.

It was likewiſe from the ſame ſhameful motive of vanity that I pretended, from my own knowledge, not only to confirm but aggravate the black account which authors had publiſhed againſt the jeſuits and other miſſionaries, eſpecially with regard to their boaſted converſions and ſucceſs in the Eaſt-Indies, and more particularly concerning the cauſe of the perſecution raiſed againſt the Chriſtians in Japan; when all that I [209] knew of it was only from reading or hear-ſay. And as to the Jeſuits, though I was then and am ſtill ſenſible that ſome of their maxims, tenets, and politics, do juſtly deſerve to be condemned; yet I was far enough from having ſuch diſad⯑vantageous notions of that ſociety, as the world ſeems generally to have of it, and much leſs from any thing I had ever ob⯑ſerved among them, conſidering how young I was when I left them, and how cloſe and recluſe they keep themſelves from the reſt of the world. But whe⯑ther they deſerve the diſadvantageous cha⯑racter they have, or not, which is beſt known to him, to whom both they and every man is to give an account at the laſt great day, it is incumbent upon me thus far to do them juſtice, as to own, that thoſe reflexions I have caſt upon their miſſionaries in China and Japan, had no other foundation than common report, without any enquiry whether that was true or falſe; ſo far was I from having any juſt or real reaſon for confirming or ag⯑gravating it. As for the reſt of the prieſts of that church, as far as I was capable of [210] judging of them, in thoſe juvenile days in which I was more intimately converſant with ſeveral of them, I can only ſay, with the common voice, that there are good and bad among them, though per⯑haps to a much higher degree than I have had occaſion to obſerve of thoſe of any other church. One thing I can truly ſay, however, to their praiſe, that they gene⯑rally take greater care to inſtruct their youth in matters of religion, and to oblige them all to aſſiſt at their catechetical lec⯑tures on Sundays in the afternoon. The misfortune was, that we had no books to learn them by heart beforehand, but the prieſt was forced by repetitions to incul⯑cate them in our memories; whence it followed, that thoſe who were wanting either in attention or memory, went a⯑way little the better for the pains he took with them. As for me, I never failed coming, becauſe my memory being very tenacious, and my apprehenſions pretty quick, I could carry an anſwer of any length at once or twice repeating, ſo that I was moſtly the firſt interrogated, and re⯑ceived no ſmall commendations from our [211] inſtructors, eſpecially as I was one of the youngeſt, and was as ready at thoſe an⯑ſwers on the next meeting, as if I had thought on nothing elſe all that time. And as this uſed to make me to be much admired by the numerous audience, ſo it of courſe failed not to feed me with ſe⯑cret pride, and a natural fondneſs for all ſuch occaſions of ſhewing my talents.

The ſame happened to me on my coming firſt into England, when Dr. Innes, proud of his pretended proſelyte, introduced me into the company of all the learned di⯑vines of his acquaintance, that they might hear me deſcant on the grounds of my converſion; and I was by that time ſo well verſed in that kind of learning, more from the books I occaſionally read on that ſubject, than from any pains he had taken to inſtruct me, that I believe few people of my years, notwithſtanding I had mur⯑dered ſo much of my time, could have ſaid more in defence of the Chriſtian re⯑ligion; all which was ſufficiently acknow⯑ledged with no ſmall commendations and congratulations, both by all that heard me, and by thoſe who have firſt read theſe ar⯑guments [212] in the fictitious book above⯑mentioned; for that ſyſtem of religion, and defence of Chriſtianity, was what I had moſtly extracted out of Limborch, and ſome other divines, without Dr. Innes's help, or even knowledge, though what follows there, with reſpect to Church go⯑vernment, was wholly his, as may be ea⯑ſily perceived from the difference of ſtyle and method. However, when all theſe kinds of converſations were ended, my doctor failed not to ſpur my pride ſtill far⯑ther on, by telling me what thoſe gentle⯑men ſaid in my commendation, which, whether or not exaggerated by him, gave me ſuch an extraordinary notion of my parts, that I was proud of every opportunity of ſhewing myſelf in all companies and public places, without any other view than that of feeding my natural vanity, whilſt he was privately purſuing what appeared to him more weighty, the advancing of his fortune, to which end he ſtrove to in⯑troduce me, and himſelf by my means, to all the great men in church and ſtate, which he found no hard matter to do, becauſe, ere I had been in London three [213] months, I had been ſo cried up for a pro⯑digy, that they were all exceedingly de⯑ſirous of ſeeing and converſing with me; and not only the domeſtic, but even the foreign papers, had helped to blaze forth many things in my praiſe, for which there was not any foundation. Thus I remem⯑ber a remarkable article from London, printed in the Dutch and French papers, that the young Japaner had been preſented to the archbiſhop of Canterbury, who admired him chiefly for his readineſs in ſpeaking a great variety of languages. Whereas I cannot call to mind that I ſpoke any but the Latin, which his grace having either forgot, or being unuſed to my fo⯑reign pronunciation, was forced to have interpreted to him, by Dr. Innes, in Engliſh. So that I found I needed not to be very ſolicitous to blow my own trumpet, when the common cry, and the public papers, did it beyond my expectation for me. I had indeed a fluency of the Latin, and a ſmattering of ſeveral modern lan⯑guages, as well as a great readineſs in learn⯑ing them, had I applied myſelf to them; but I boaſted of more knowledge in them [214] by far than I had, eſpecially in the oriental ones; tho' at that time quite ignorant of them.

I had not been two months in London be⯑fore the doctor perſuaded me to tranſlate the church catechiſm into my pretended Formoſan language; and I, tho' much a⯑gainſt my will, was forced, by his over⯑bearing command, not only to perform the odious taſk, but to preſent it afterwards to the biſhop of London, who received and rewarded it with his uſual candor and ge⯑neroſity, and laid it up among his other curious manuſcripts, tho' it rather deſerved to have been condemned to the flames. However, the doctor had his own views to ſerve, one of which was to confirm me in the good opinion of that worthy prelate, and of as many other gentlemen as ſhould either ſee or hear of it. And another, to make me exert my talents in inventing and familiariſing myſelf to this pretended For⯑moſan language and character, for fear my want of it ſhould cauſe ſome unexpected diſcovery, at leaſt before he had got the preferment he was in purſuit of. When I had finiſhed the pretended verſion, he not [215] only examined it himſelf carefully, but got other perſons to do the ſame, who all found the language ſo regular and gram⯑matical, as well as different from all others they knew, both with reſpect to the words and idiom, that they gave it as their opi⯑nion, that it muſt be a real language, and could be no counterfeit, much leſs have been invented by ſuch a ſtripling as I; and hence ſome of thoſe of my oppoſers, who thought me a Romiſh prieſt in diſguiſe, imagined that I had been aſſiſted in, or taught it, by ſome of the fraternity be⯑yond ſea. I ſhould have obſerved, that I had taken care to write it in one column in Roman character, with an interlineal Latin verſion in Italick, and in my invent⯑ed character on the oppoſite column.

As he found me to ſucceed ſo well in this vile piece of invention, he ſoon after pre⯑vailed upon me to write the hiſtory of Formoſa, and got ſeveral of his and my acquaintance to back the motion, as a thing which would bring much credit and profit to me, and be very acceptable to the public. One might have imagined, that a taſk ſo arduous and dangerous would have ſtart⯑led [216] ſuch a raw young fellow as I was, be⯑ing then ſcarce twenty years old, and ſo very great a ſtranger to theſe countries. I had indeed got ſome imperfect notions from a few books that had fallen in my way, as well as from converſation with thoſe who had either been in thoſe parts, or had read more about them than I, but was forced to hatch many things out of my own fertile fancy, to ſupply the defects of my knowledge. One thing I found a great help and relief from, that the accounts we then had of that iſland from Candidus, a Dutch miniſter, who had reſided there, and from the reſt of the writers who had in ſome meaſure copied him, were ſtuffed with ſuch monſtrous abſurdities and contradictions, and that the place upon the whole was ſo very un⯑known to the Europeans, even to thoſe who had been in China, Japan, and other parts of that country, that I might the more eaſily make whatever I ſhould ſay of it, to paſs current with the generality of the world. So that without much he⯑ſitation I undertook the work, and reſolv⯑ed with myſelf to give ſuch a deſcription [217] of it as ſhould be wholly new and ſurpriz⯑ing, and ſhould in moſt particulars claſh with all the accounts other writers had given of it; particularly that it belonged to Japan, contrary to what all other writers and travellers have affirmed of its being ſubject to China. And this I was left to hammer out of my own brain, without any other aſſiſtance than that of Varenius's deſcription of Japan, which Dr. Innes put into my hands, to get what I could out of it. All this while both he and the book⯑ſellers were ſo earneſt for my diſpatching it out of hand, whilſt the town was hot in expectation of it, that I was ſcarcely allowed two months to write the whole, notwithſtanding the many avocations I had by frequent viſitors, and invitations abroad. So that it is no wonder the thing came out ſo crude, imperfect, and abſurd, and more ſo would it have been, had not the perſon, who engliſhed it from my Latin, aſſiſted me to correct many more and greater improbabilities, which I had not had time to diſcover: but he like⯑wiſe was hurried on by the bookſellers, and had the fewer opportunities of con⯑ſulting [218] me on that head. Beſides, there was one maxim I could never be prevailed upon to depart from, viz. that whatever I had once affirmed in converſation, tho' to ever ſo few people, and tho' ever ſo improbable, or even abſurd, ſhould never be amended or contradicted in the narra⯑tive. Thus having once, inadvertently in converſation, made the yearly number of ſacrificed infants to amount eighteen thouſand, I could never be perſuaded to leſſen it, though I had been often made ſenſible of the impoſſibility of ſo ſmall an iſland loſing ſo many males every year, without becoming at length quite depopu⯑lated, ſuppoſing the inhabitants to have been ſo ſtupid as to comply with, or the prieſts inhuman enough to have exacted ſuch a number of human victims. I muſt moreover obſerve here, that my friends found ſtill a much weightier objection a⯑gainſt my account, viz. how ſuch a ſtrip⯑ling as I muſt be when I left that coun⯑try (for being then but near twenty years of age I could not be ſuppoſed to have been above fifteen or ſixteen, upon my pretended coming away) could give ſuch [219] a large and particular account of it, as could hardly have been expected from a man of twice my age. Many of them were hence inclined to impute what was ſo liable to objection in my narrative to my want of years and experience, which might make me the more liable to miſtake. This, though a very candid excuſe for me, I was not inclined to admit of, and therefore, to abate the wonder, was forced, by Dr. Innes's advice, to aſſume three years more than I had, and to pretend I was nineteen years when I came away, and between twenty-two and twenty-three at the writing of the book; more than that had I pretended to be, my face, air, and behaviour would have given me the lye, for in that only reſpect did I appear what I really was, a raw, young, hot-headed and inconſiderate ſtripling. However, theſe monſtroſities, as I may juſtly call them, which gave me ſo much trouble to vindi⯑cate afterwards, both in company and in a new preface to the ſecond edition of that vile romance, have really, ſince I came to be in a better mind, proved no ſmall com⯑fort to me, ſince they have been an effec⯑tual [22O] means of diſcrediting the whole rela⯑tion, and ſaved me the trouble and ſhame of doing it in print, eſpecially during the life of many of my worthy friends, who, from a real principle of candor and charity, had publicly engaged in my quarrel, and to whom ſuch an open acknowledgment muſt have given the greateſt mortification; ſo that though I was come by that time to abhor the impoſture, yet I contented myſelf with owning it only to ſome of my moſt intimate friends; and in other com⯑pany, when queſtioned about it, with turning the ſubject in ſuch manner as ſhould give them to underſtand, that I was aſhamed to enter farther into it.

The firſt edition had not been long pub⯑liſhed before it was all ſold, and a new one demanded, with ſuch alterations and vindication of the old one as might moſt likely promote the ſale, and ſatisfy at once the curioſity of the public, and the avarice of the proprietor; for, as to me, I had only the ſmall ſum of ten guineas for the copy of the firſt, and twelve more for the improvements in the ſecond, be⯑ſides ſuch preſents as were made me by [221] the generous few to whom I preſented them. But before I ventured on the ſe⯑cond, I was ſent by the good biſhop of London, and my other friends, to Oxford, to purſue ſuch ſtudies as I was fit for, or inclined to, whilſt my oppoſers and advo⯑cates were diſputing here about the merit or demerit of the firſt. And when I came to the univerſity, I found many learned and worthy friends as warmly engaged for, as others were againſt me; and with this ſeeming advantage on my ſide, at which I have had frequent occaſion to bluſh, that the former were men of the beſt character for candor and probity, as well as learning and parts, and whom, for that very reaſon, I forbear, as I ought, to name, their partiality for me being the mere effect of too extenſive a charity and generoſity, and which only expoſed them to the ſarcaſms and ridicule of my oppo⯑nents.

However that be, I had a convenient a⯑partment aſſigned me in one of the moſt conſiderable colleges by the worthy head of it, a man in high reputation for his writ⯑ings and univerſal skill in all polite litera⯑ture, [222] and eſteemed one of the moſt ac⯑compliſhed gentlemen of his age. I was not, indeed, immatriculated, for reaſons ſcarce worth troubling the world with, but had all the other advantages of learning which that college or the univerſity could afford me, either by acceſs to the public and private libraries, or by acquaintance with ſome of the learned in ſeveral other colleges as well as our own, and in this laſt I had, moreover, a very worthy and learned tutor aſſigned me, who not only gave me leave to aſſiſt at all the lectures he read to his other pupils, ſome of whom were gentlemen of high birth and for⯑tune, and greatly advanced in learning, but allowed, and even invited me to make ſuch objections as my mind ſuggeſted to me, or even to chuſe the ſubject of our entertainment, whether the Newtonian phi⯑loſophy, logic, poetry, or divinity; which laſt was, of all others, my favourite one, as well as in a great meaſure his, for he took orders ſoon after I left Oxford.

As to the mathematics, in which he was alſo well ſkilled, though I had a great opinion of that ſtudy, yet could I never [223] be prevailed to go over the threſhold; and the needleſs demonſtrations, as I then thought them, to many of Euclid's propo⯑ſitions, which appeared to me ſelf-evi⯑dent, ſuch as that the lines that are drawn through a circle, are longer or ſhorter ac⯑cording to their nearneſs or diſtance from the centre, and others of the like nature, ſeemed to me rather trifling than ſerious or uſeful, and I could never have the pa⯑tience to be better informed. Hiſtory, eſpecially ancient chronology, &c. ap⯑peared ſo dark, intricate and liable to ſuch unſurmountable difficulties, that I never ex⯑pected to meet with any ſatisfaction in them, worth the time and pains they would coſt to learn, ſo that I was a long while before I could be induced to read Scripture hiſtory, neither did I begin to be converſant in it till I came to have a taſte for the Hebrew tongue, which was not till many years after, and that by mere accident, as I ſhall ſhew in the ſequel. Church muſic, which was then in great perfection by the encouragement which the worthy dean of Chriſt-Church gave it, as well as by ſeveral of his excellent compoſitions in [224] that kind, was the main thing that capti⯑vated my vain roving fancy, and took up moſt of my ſpare hours, though I was not a little aſhamed to ſee what drunken, idle ragamuffians compoſed almoſt every choir there, and with what indolence, to call it by no worſe a name, they performed their parts, except on ſome more ſolemn occaſions than ordinary, as when the bi⯑ſhop, or ſome perſons of diſtinction, ap⯑peared at the Divine worſhip. The even⯑ing I commonly ſpent with ſome ſelect company, but without drinking to exceſs, or even to a degree of exhilaration, which I neither wanted nor was inclined to, and at the uſual hour of nine retired to my apartment. But here to make a ſhew, at leaſt, of retrieving the time I waſted a⯑broad in the day-time in company, mu⯑ſic, &c. I uſed to light a candle, and let it burn the greateſt part of the night in my ſtudy, to make my neighbours believe I was plying of my books; and ſleeping in my eaſy chair, left the bed often for a whole week as I found it, to the great ſur⯑prize of my bed-maker, who could hardly imagine how I could live with ſo little [225] ſleep, and without the uſual benefit of bed refreſhment. Had I not been bleſſed with a ſtrong conſtitution, ſeaſoned moreover by two years fatigues in the army, and by my living moderate and low, I might perhaps have felt the ſad effects of ſuch an irregu⯑larity, and I don't know but my appre⯑henſion of it might be one main motive that induced me to make a ſhew of it, in order to give it the greater merit; for I began to pretend to have ſwelled legs and feet, and a gouty kind of diſtemper, which my friends failed not to attribute to that, and earneſtly intreated me to ſubmit to more regular hours and method of reſt. They likewiſe prevailed upon me to go and drink ſome medicinal waters at a ſmall diſtance from the city, it being then the ſeaſon, and a good deal of company of both ſexes reſorting to it; but as I knew myſelf to ſtand in no need of any of thoſe helps, I went thither only twice or thrice, rather for the ſake of the company, diver⯑ſion, and muſic; but as my pretended lameneſs gave me a kind of gravity, which I was not willing to part with, not know⯑ing how to keep up to the one without the [226] other, I went ſtill limping about like an old gouty fellow, though no man could enjoy a better ſhare of health and flow of ſpirits than I did all the time I ſtaid there.

It were a ſhame for me to tell how idly I ſpent moſt of my time, and how little progreſs I made in ſuch a place, company, and among ſuch noble libraries, and learned acquaintance; for, excepting thoſe lec⯑tures which I heard from my tutor, moſt of what I got was by converſation, but little or nothing by reading, except in books of controverſy, almoſt the only ones that could captivate my roving mind. Howe⯑ver, it was during my ſhort abode here, (ſcarcely ſix months) that I employed my leiſure hours in correcting and reviſing my romance of Formoſa, and wrote the beſt anſwer I could to the objections that had been made to the firſt edition, in a ſecond preface, which, all things conſidered, met with much greater approbation than it de⯑ſerved, from thoſe few intimates I had ſhewed it to; after which, taking my leave of all my friends there, I ſet out for London, where I ſoon after publiſhed that ſecond [227] edition. At my coming to my old lodgings in Pall-Mall, where Dr. Innes and I had for⯑merly lodged, I was told that he was gone over chaplain-general to the Engliſh forces in Portugal. I had no reaſon to regret his ab⯑ſence, for he had, before I went to Oxford, been guilty of ſuch notorious and barefaced immoralities, as well in this as in a former lodging in the Strand, both thoſe of ſober and reputable families, that his character had greatly ſuffered by it, and he went a⯑way, juſt time enough to ſave himſelf the mortification of being ſhamefully turned out of this laſt, as he had been out of the former. Had I been, indeed, a real con⯑vert from heatheniſm to Chriſtianity, it might have been truly ſaid of him, what our Divine Maſter ſaid of the Phariſees, compaſſing ſea and land to gain a proſe⯑lyte, and making him ten times more wicked than themſelves; and he hath been more than once ſeverely reproved by his acquaintance, for the ſcandalous example he gave to me in particular, who was admired by them for the contrary virtues. The truth is, he had an almoſt inſurmount⯑able propenſity to wine and women, and [228] when fraught with the former, fell immo⯑derately foul on the latter, whether maids or married, not ſcrupling to uſe even vio⯑lence; which I particularly mention, be⯑cauſe his behaviour in theſe, and ſeveral other reſpects, to ſay nothing of what I have hinted in a former note, gave me but too much cauſe to think that he had no real regard to religion, either natural or re⯑vealed; ſo that had I not been happily reſtrained by Divine Grace, his example would not have failed to have extinguiſhed all ſenſe of remorſe which accompanied every indirect action I did, and confirmed me in downright infidelity, in which caſe I might never have been ſo happily made ſenſible of the error of my ways, as I have ſince been, nor ever repented of them, till it had been too late. I have therefore great reaſon to acknowledge it the greateſt mercy that could befal me, that I was ſo well grounded in the principles and evi⯑dence of the Chriſtian religion, that nei⯑ther the converſation of the then free⯑thinkers, as they loved to ſtile themſelves, and by many of whom I was ſeverely at⯑tacked, nor the writings of a Hobbs, Spinoſa, [229] Toland, Collins, Tindal, &c. againſt the truth of Divine revelation, could appear to me in any other light than as the vain ef⯑forts of a dangerous ſet of men to over⯑turn a religion, the beſt founded, and moſt judiciouſly calculated to promote the peace and happineſs of mankind, both tempo⯑ral and eternal; I muſt own, that the ſo⯑phiſtry which perpetually runs thro' their writings, like the warp through the woof, gave me but too much cauſe to ſuſpect their ſincerity, and that the inveteracy they ſhew againſt the nobleſt ſyſtem of mora⯑lity that ever could be thought of, to which all their united force could never ſubſtitute any thing better, or near ſo good, is but a ſorry proof of their pretended love to truth, and to the good of mankind, eſ⯑pecially when I conſidered how fully and frequently their writings have been an⯑ſwered and exploded by better hands, with⯑out any other viſible effect than that of their trumping up the ſame old trite argu⯑ments in ſome new dreſs, and claiming a freſh victory from them.

[230]I hope that what I have now wrote will not be deemed by the candid at leaſt, as deſigned to proclaim my own praiſe, ſee⯑ing it rather aggravates my guilt that I could act ſuch a notorious piece of hypo⯑criſy, contrary to the ſtrongeſt convictions I then felt, that it was impious and of⯑fenſive to God. What I chiefly men⯑tion it here for, is only to obſerve, that it was that very conviction (which his good providence would not ſuffer to be quite extinguiſhed in me, though he per⯑mitted it to be ſo long kept under by the impetuoſity of my wild and ungovernable vanity) that did at length co-operate with his grace to work in me an utter abhor⯑rence both againſt that vile and dangerous paſſion, and the ſtill viler crimes it had involved me in: for if ſincerity is one of the moſt eſſential virtues of the goſpel, how abominable muſt ſuch a long-wind⯑ed and multifarious diſſimulation appear to a guilty perſon, when brought to a deep ſenſe of it, however light it might ſeem to him in the more youthful and inconſiderate part of his life? Thoſe only who have felt can judge of the ſmart and horror of it, [231] under which nothing could well ſupport them but a ſure reliance on the death and merits of a Divine Saviour, and a ſincere repentance for, and deteſtation of it. For as ſuch a happy change can only be the work of Divine Grace, ſo it gives one a moral and comfortable aſſurance of pardon and acceptance at the throne of infinite mercy, through the efficacious interceſ⯑ſion of our common Redeemer and eternal High Prieſt.

But though I occaſionally mention it here, I would not have it inferred from thence, that I began ſo ſoon to give way to ſo ſa⯑lutary a remorſe. I was too young, vain, raſh and thoughtleſs to be any other way influenced by it, than as it put me upon finding out the moſt ſenſeleſs excuſes and palliatives, ſuch as every one may eaſily gueſs at, that hath been, like me, a ſlave to youthful paſſions. So that above half a ſcore or a dozen years were miſ-ſpent in a courſe of the moſt ſhameful idleneſs, va⯑nity and extravagance; ſome ſort of gal⯑lantry with the fair ſex, with many of whom, even perſons of fortune and cha⯑racter of ſenſe, wit, and learning, I was [232] become a great favourite, and might, if I could have overcome my natural ſheepiſh⯑neſs and fear of a repulſe, have been more ſucceſsful either by way of matrimony or intrigue; which I have ſince the more wondered at, conſidering my great pro⯑penſity to women was as ſtrong as my vanity, and the opportunities ſo many and inviting, and I ſo little ſcrupulous a⯑bout the danger or guilt of them; yet I may truly ſay, that hardly any man who might have enjoyed ſo great a variety, ever in⯑dulged himſelf in ſo few inſtances of the unlawful kind as I have done. This I am far from hinting by way of pretence to a greater degree of virtue, of which no man could then have a leſs ſhare than I; for in thoſe few, wherein I was unhap⯑pily engaged, but eſpecially one wherein my effection was captivated to an immo⯑derate degree, no man purſued them with more eagerneſs and exceſs than I did. But I am far enough from being inclined to entertain my reader with a detail of my ſad irregularities and follies, either in this or other reſpects, which I have long ſince looked back upon with ſhame and [233] ſorrow; only, with regard to ſuch kind of unlawful amours, I cannot recal to mind my ſtrong and vehement bias for them, without thankfully acknowledging that there muſt have been ſome ſecret provi⯑dence that kept me from giving ſuch way as I might otherwiſe have done to the ruin of my health, circumſtances, &c. or my being unwarily drawn into ſome unhappy marriage, or other ſnares, into which I have obſerved many a one leſs raſh, extravagant, and inconſiderate than I, have ſo unhappily fallen into.

I was led into this ſenſe of God's divine providence towards me, by ſome (I may ſay) unavoidable obſervations on his gra⯑cious diſpenſations, in which it was im⯑poſſible for me to be miſtaken: one was, my meeting with an almoſt conſtant diſ⯑appointment in my moſt pleaſing proſpects, my moſt ſanguine expectations and favou⯑rite projects, whenever the end propoſed was the ſatisfaction of my predominant paſſion, or the means to attain it were ſuch as my conſcience condemned as un⯑lawful; ſo that I ſeldom failed of reaping ſome pungent ſhame, mortification or diſ⯑grace, [234] where I expected approbation and applauſe, or with loſſes and poverty, where I looked for profit or gain. On the other hand, whenever I chearfully entered into any laudable method of living that offered itſelf, or rather, which the ſame good Providence threw in my way, I always met with ſurpriſing ſucceſs, and with ſuch credit and approbation as made me ample amends for the ſtruggles my pride made againſt it on account of its meanneſs. I ſhall take the liberty of giving a ſignal inſtance, becauſe it hath an immediate connection with the impoſture I was ſtill ſtriving to carry on, and conſequently de⯑ſerves to be expoſed.

I had been about five or ſix years in Eng⯑land, and lived in ſuch an extravagant and careleſs manner (if not in expences, which were rather moderate than laviſh, had I been in any laudable way of gaining a competency, but which for want of that often run me into debt, without any viſi⯑ble way of extricating myſelf) when a plau⯑ſible way was offered to me, by one Pat⯑tenden, of getting money, and credit too, by a white ſort of Japan which he had [235] found out, and was then, in vain, endea⯑vouring to recommend to the world, tho' it was really a curious ſort of work. His propoſal was, that I ſhould father, and introduce it, under the notion of my hav⯑ing learned and brought the art from Formoſa; on which condition, and my putting now and then a hand to the painting, he offered me a conſiderable ſhare in the profit. I readily agreed to his propoſal, not only on account of the pro⯑fit we ſuppoſed it would bring, but much more ſo as it would yield a kind of convincing proof to the fabulous account I had given of myſelf. We accordingly advertiſed it under the name of White Formoſan Work; and it was viewed and greatly admired by the curious for its fine whiteneſs, ſmoothneſs, and hardneſs, and for the beauty of the other colours painted upon it: notwithſtanding which, and all the extravagant encomiums we gave it, by far beyond what it really deſerved, and our care and artifice to conceal its real faults, for ſome it had, we could never make it ſucceed ſo as to be gainers by it. And though our diſappointment might be [236] owing, in ſome meaſure, to the vaſt high price he rated it at, contrary to my opi⯑nion, yet I have cauſe to bleſs God it ſo happily miſcarried, and was forced to quit it; for had the project ſucceeded accord⯑ing to my ſanguine hopes, it would have hardened me only the more irretrievably in my vile impoſture and ſelf-conceit, but its being ſo unaccountably blaſted, in ſpite of all our endeavours to puſh it forward, did not a little contribute to inſpire me with a diſlike to all ſuch unlawful and diſhoneſt ways of getting of money, though this was not the immediate reſult of my diſap⯑pointment; on the contrary, I grieved at it, and at ſome other of the like nature, for ſome years, till the frequency of them made me ſee clearly into the true cauſe of them, and fully perſuaded me that nothing but an honeſt and ſincere intention, followed by the uſe of right and lawful means, could be attended with ſucceſs; for I attempted ſince then ſeveral other means of getting of mo⯑ney, which, though not equally odious as this, were ſtill blameable in me, by rea⯑ſon of my incapacity for them, ſuch as the [237] practiſing a kind of empyrical phyſic, teach⯑ing of ſome modern languages, &c. of which I neither was a ſufficient maſter, nor capable of a competent application to make myſelf ſo. However, as I was hap⯑pily diſappointed in them all, and as I had reaſon to think juſtly too, it ſet me, at length, on a more honeſt and laudable ſcent; and it was not long before Provi⯑dence threw That in my way, which nei⯑ther my pride nor my reluctance to a cloſe application, would have ſuffered me to have ſought after, or even thought of: for a counſellor of Lincoln's-Inn, who brought up his three ſons and a daughter under his own eye, and had a better opinion of me by far than I deſerved, ſent for me, and propoſed to me the inſtructing his ſons in the Latin tongue, and ſuch other branches of learning, as I ſhould think them capa⯑ble of, at his own chambers. I readily ac⯑cepted the offer, notwithſtanding the ſalary was rather too ſmall for the charge, as I was to attend them twice a day, and ſpend, at leaſt, three hours with them every day, and lived at ſome diſtance from him. I was, in about a year's time, honourably [238] diſcharged, upon his ſending them to be farther educated beyond ſea.

Soon after this I was recommended to be tutor to a young gentleman, about eight miles from London: his father, who was an officer in the army, had kept him for ſe⯑veral years at ſome conſiderable ſchools to little purpoſe, for when I came to him, he could hardly tranſlate one line out of the plaineſt Latin authors, which he at⯑tributing rather to the remiſſneſs of his for⯑mer maſters, than to his want of genius, reſolved to give him a home education. I found him, however, ſo unacquainted with every grammar rule, and ſo averſe to begin afreſh with it, he being then near fifteen years of age, that I was obliged to acquaint his father with the little hopes I had of him in the literary way, and pro⯑poſed the teaching him ſome other branches of learning, for which he ſhewed a rea⯑dier genius, and particularly fortification, which, as I formerly hinted, I had learned from our indolent Jeſuit, and of which I was become a pretty good maſter, by con⯑verſation in the army, by ſeeing a good number of conſiderable fortreſſes in ſeveral [239] parts of Europe, and more particularly by reading Vauban, Cohorn, and other emi⯑nent authors on the ſubject. My propoſal was readily agreed to both by father and ſon, and the latter made a conſiderable progreſs in it in a little time, inſomuch that we had not only gone through all the theory of it, and he could take any plan of a place, but had likewiſe made a model in clay of a large fortified city, in which I had contrived to have a ſpecimen of every thing that related to the art of fortifying, both in the regular and irregular way, en⯑gineering, &c. and which, when finiſhed, was not a little admired, not only as a no⯑velty, but likewiſe as a compleat piece of fortification. The misfortune was, that my ſalary was neither anſwerable, as I thought, to the pains I took with my pu⯑pil (whom I ſtill made, at proper times, apply himſelf to Latin, and other branches of literature) but likewiſe, through the ex⯑travagance of the father, very ill paid; which made me ſo much the more uneaſy, as I had contracted ſome debts which I ſhould have been glad then to have paid with it. This, at length, determined me [240] before the year was quite out, to accept of an offer, which not only appeared more advantageous, but likewiſe more ſuit⯑able to my vanity, though it ſo far diſo⯑bliged the gentleman's father, that he made no ſcruple to refuſe paying me what was ſtill due to me, and to let me go from him with viſible tokens of his re⯑ſentment.

This happened juſt after the rebellion was broke out in Lancaſhire and Scotland, anno 1715, on which account new troops were raiſed every where, and he became ſo conſiderable and fluſh of money, that I might have made my own terms to have ſtaid with him. But, by that time, ſome of my friends had prevailed upon the ma⯑jor of a regiment of dragoons, to make me the offer of being clerk to the regi⯑ment, and as I knew him to be by far a much finer, and more generous gentleman of the two, nothing could diſſuade me from accepting it. He could not, how⯑ever, prevail on the other captains to make me clerk to their troops, that being, as they ſaid, a perquiſite belonging to the quarter-maſter; but it did not hinder [241] him from retaining me to this, and mak⯑ing ſuch additions to the common ſalary out of his own pocket, as made it near an equivalent, and the friendſhip and regard he ſhewed me, made me be looked upon as a fit companion to the reſt of the officers, ſeveral of whom having had a liberal education at ſome of the univer⯑ſities, it was not long before we came in⯑to a kind of intimacy; there was, beſides, another thing, which procured me no ſmall eſteem among them, viz. my becoming very ſoon acquainted with the clergy and other gentlemen in every place we came to, eſpecially with the learned and curious, by which means I could introduce ſuch of our officers to them as were men of me⯑rit or character, as the moſt part of them were. But what added ſtill more weight to the reſt was, that my friend, the ma⯑jor, who had often heard me called by the familiar nick-name of Sir George, in ſome of the families where he had become ac⯑quainted with me, after the peace of U⯑trecht, took it into his head not only to continue the ſame ſtile to me, but even to give it out, that I had been knighted by [242] queen Anne. This laſt I was indeed wholly ignorant of, for a long while, and denied it as often as the queſtion was put to me, but was, however, ſo fond of the fea⯑ther in the fool's cap, that rather than fore⯑go it, I uſed to lay a ſtronger claim to it, under pretence of my birth and family, for I ſtill paſſed current for a Formoſan, and was as proud as ever of being thought ſo, as it procured me ſuch an acceſs a⯑mong perſons of rank and learning, which I likewiſe made a means of bringing our officers and them into a familiar and agree⯑able acquaintance, who might otherwiſe have been more than ordinarily ſhy of each other at that critical juncture. I might add, that as I was likewiſe a greater favourite of the fair ſex, than any of the red coats, whom they could not but look upon with ſome dread at that time, I had frequent invitations from them, even thoſe of rank and fortune, whoſe curioſity would not permit them to ſuffer ſo great a ſtranger as I was to come, or even to paſs ſo near them, without having the pleaſure of ſeeing and converſing with him, and informing themſelves in all the [243] particulars that related to him. And as I always took care to behave in ſuch a man⯑ner as might gain their eſteem, as well as admiration, ſo I could the more eaſily in⯑troduce ſuch of our gentlemen as bore an unexceptionable character to them, by which means we had the ſatisfaction of ſpending many a pleaſant day in their com⯑pany in the moſt innocent and agreeable manner, particularly in Lancaſhire, and, after the ſuppreſſion of the rebellion, where we continued quarters, at Wigan, War⯑rington and Mancheſter, in which laſt I had, moreover, the opportunity of fre⯑quently viſiting a noble library belonging to the collegiate church, and well furniſhed with all manner of books that could be purchaſed with money: for it is endowed with 100l. per ann. to ſupply it with new ones as they come out, and yet, when I was there, they had above 500l. in bank, and ſcarce knew how to lay it out, in⯑ſomuch that they were thinking of pur⯑chaſing of ſome of the moſt curious ma⯑nuſcripts. This, I could not but obſerve to them, was ill judged, conſidering the ſitu⯑ation of it, chiefly among tradeſmen, who [244] have neither taſte nor knowledge of ſuch valuable pieces, and the few learned men in that neighbourhood that could reap any benefit from them, and rather adviſed them to lay out that income in purchaſing ſuch valuable modern books, as were yearly publiſhed both in England and out of it, and which, I thought, would better anſwer the intention of the noble donor. They ſeemed to acquieſce in what I ſaid; but whether they followed my advice or not, I never enquired ſince.

Theſe allurements, ſo ſoothing to my na⯑tural vanity, and our often moving from one county to another, made me ſtay longer in the regiment than I ought in rea⯑ſon or conſcience (had I been capable of liſtening to either) to have done, conſidering that I was of no ſervice, but only a dead weight to my friend the major, who, be⯑ing moreover as bad an oeconomiſt as my⯑ſelf, would have been glad enough to have been rid of me, though he never, either in word or carriage, gave me the leaſt hint of it, but rather the contrary; yet ſome of thoſe friends of mine, who had recom⯑mended me to him at firſt, had more than [245] once adviſed me to eaſe him of ſo expen⯑ſive a load; yet ſo pleaſed was I with this wandering and idle kind of life, which gave me an opportunity of travelling through, and ſeeing, ſo many countries I ſhould otherwiſe never have been able to ſee, that I could not prevail upon myſelf to leave the regiment, till it was ordered into Ireland, and then marched as far as Briſtol with them, and ſaw them embarked for that kingdom: ſo that I had been, from firſt to laſt, ſomewhat above two years in this wandering kind of amuſing life, without reaping any other advantage than the ſee⯑ing variety of places and people, and con⯑verſing here and there with ſome learned men and books, though nothing ſo much with the latter as I might have done, if my indolence, vanity and the variety of objects which danced before my eyes, had not diverted me from it.

Upon my return from Briſtol, I was at no ſmall loſs how to diſpoſe of myſelf for ſome time, and having had time to rumi⯑nate upon my miſ-ſpent time and idle life, was eaſily induced, by ſome of my friends, to alter my courſe, and, if poſſible, to get [246] into a way of earning a competency by my own induſtry, rather than live at other peo⯑ple's coſt, or, which was much worſe, on their charity, which I could not now but look upon myſelf as a moſt unworthy ob⯑ject of; and, as I had a little ſmattering of painting and drawing, and had I been capable of a proper application, might, with aſſiſtance, have attained to a conſi⯑derable proficiency in it, having a ſtrong genius for, and no indifferent judgment in it. However, to go the neareſt and eaſieſt way to work, I reſolved on that of fan painting, which required leſs time and pains to learn; and had the profit been any thing anſwerable to my aſſiduity, I could have been contented to have drudg⯑ed on with it ſtill. But that buſineſs was then at ſo low and contemptible an ebb, that, though I lived with a good fa⯑mily almoſt gratis, and was early and late at work, yet I found it impoſſible to get a bare competency by it; notwithſtanding the encouragement ſeveral of my friends and acquaintance gave me. This, how⯑ever, brought me acquainted with a worthy clergyman; who, thinking the employ⯑ment [247] too mean for a man of my education and parts, and that I might beſtow my time to much better purpoſe in ſome kind of laudable ſtudy, particularly that of di⯑vinity, which I had always been moſt fond of and converſant in, engaged to raiſe a ſubſcription among his acquaintance, by which I might be enabled to follow my ſtudies with more eaſe. He did it accord⯑ingly, to the amount of between twenty and thirty pounds per ann. which, with the help of a ſmall addition I got to it, by per⯑fecting of a young gentleman in the Latin tongue and ſome other branches of learn⯑ing, made it a comfortable competency, eſpecially as I was become, by this time, a better oeconomiſt, and had fallen into a more frugal way of living.

But all this while this ſubſcription did lie ſomewhat heavy on my conſcience, and at ſome particular times gave me no ſmall unea⯑ſineſs, inaſmuch as it was founded on a belief of my being a Formoſan, and a real con⯑vert to the church of England, which thoſe pious ſubſcribers had not any doubt of, that I could find, even to their dying day; for whenever I waited on them, I always met [248] with the kindeſt reception and civil treat⯑ment that could be wiſhed. This uneaſi⯑neſs ſtill increaſed, as I now and then met with ſome people at their houſes, whoſe behaviour and objections, though not in plain terms, gave me but too much reaſon to think they had not the ſame charitable opinion of me; and this put me upon va⯑rious indirect means to prevent my friends being prevailed upon by them to withdraw their benevolence. This made me often wiſh and pray, that I might but fall into ſome more honeſt way of living without it, and free myſelf by it from that aggravated re⯑morſe, with which I was forced to receive it. But though I was fully perſuaded of the guilt, yet I was not ſenſibly enough af⯑fected with it to make an open confeſſion of it, and how unworthy I was of their charitable opinion and aſſiſtance; and con⯑tented myſelf with making ſome reſolutions of giving up the latter, at leaſt, as ſoon as I could get myſelf into a way of living without it.

I became, at length, providentially I may ſay, acquainted with a perſon who was concerned in various branches relating to [249] the printing trade, and in very good cir⯑cumſtances. He was, moreover, a very generous and good-natured gentleman, and I became, in a little time, ſo great a fa⯑vourite, that he could ſcarce paſs a day without ſeeing and conſulting me about ſome of his affairs; and by his means I came at laſt to tranſlate books, and to get a comfortable living by it. It was then I began to perceive, with no ſmall joy, how God bleſſed my endeavours in propor⯑tion to my diligence and honeſty, which made ſo lively an impreſſion on my mind, that I reſolved never to be concerned in any works, that were either prophane, he⯑retical, or of a trifling nature or ill ten⯑dency, and have accordingly refuſed them whenever they have been offered to me. From tranſlating of other people's works, I came at length to print ſome of my own, and with the ſame laudable view, and have found ſtill more credit and comfort in it, and more cauſe to bleſs the Divine mer⯑cy, for the wonderful and undeſerved ſucceſs I have ſince met with. But of theſe I ſhall ſpeak in a more proper place; in the mean time I ſhall only ob⯑ſerve [250] here, that my charitable friends, dying one after another, as my buſineſs increaſed, I never applied to the ſurvivors for a conti⯑nuance of their benevolence, but declined it where it was offered, as being then able to live without it: and I can only add, that though I once looked upon theſe ſub⯑ſcriptions as no leſs unworthily beſtowed upon, than baſely received by me, yet I have had the comfort to obſerve ſince, that they proved the happy means of freeing me from a more laborious and unprofitable life, and of enabling me to follow thoſe ſtudies with more eaſe and chearfulneſs, which fitted me, in time, for thoſe more arduous and beneficial taſks, which I have been ſince engaged in; ſeeing it was during the greater part of that time, that I applied myſelf to the Hebrew tongue, and to the more cloſe ſtudy of the ſacred books; by which means I had an opportunity of making a large collection of critical and other remarks, which, though deſigned then only for my own information, came at length to have a place in one of thoſe works I ſhall ſpeak of in the ſequel, where they have ſince met with the approbation of the public, both in [251] England and abroad; though even under thoſe encouragements, and with thoſe op⯑portunities I had, I muſt own, to my ſhame, that I was ſtill fair enough from ſuch a lau⯑dable application, as might have turned them to better advantage; and that I ſtill miſ-ſpent a great deal of my time in a looſe, careleſs manner, and that it was not till after a year or two that I diſengaged myſelf from company, eſpecially of the fair ſex, though, one perſon excepted, rather trifling than culpable, to follow my books more cloſely. I ſhall therefore ſkip all the for⯑mer part of my time, from the twentieth to the thirty-ſecond year of my age, as a ſad blank to every thing that was good or laudable, and fraught with a diſmal variety of folly, indiſcretion and other miſcarriages, which would rather diſguſt than inform, or even divert a ſober reader, to come to a more hopeful and inſtructive period; and only obſerve, before-hand, that it was no ſmall happineſs to me, (which, to whatſo⯑ever owing, I ought at leaſt to attribute to my own diſcretion) that the many learned and pious perſons I was formerly, and con⯑tinued ſtill, acquainted with, (for it was [252] with ſuch that I moſtly choſe to converſe) were never acquainted with, nor, as I could perceive, ever ſuſpected me of being guilty of ſuch a ſhameful, idle and ſcanda⯑lous way of living, but believed that I ſpent moſt of my time to better purpoſe; elſe it is not to be doubted but I had been diſcarded and ſhunned by them. In which caſe I ſhould have entirely loſt the moſt ef⯑fectual means of coming into a better way of thinking, which their converſation, ex⯑ample, and the many good books which they lent me, did at length happily bring me to, and been left, like a weather-cock, expoſed to all winds: for though I could talk, and, at ſome ſerious intervals, think as ſeriouſly as they of religion and its moſt important duties, and even comply with them in ſuch a manner, as ſeemed very delightful and edifying to them; yet was my roving heart ſo far from joining ſin⯑cerely, or being affected with them, that I could eaſily forego them, to indulge any new riſing ſatisfaction, though ever ſo op⯑poſite. And indeed, ſuch a frequent va⯑riety did offer itſelf naturally in my way, as I was in no way able to reſiſt.

[253]Thus, for inſtance, it was natural for thoſe intimates to introduce or renew ſome old ſubject or topic relating to my pretended country, travels, converſion, or other ro⯑mantic part of my life, which, however irkſome it was then become to me to repeat, and as it were to confirm anew; yet there was no way for me to avoid it, unleſs I had at once acknowledged the whole relation to have been a notorious and ſhameful impoſ⯑ture; and what a deadly wound muſt have ſuch an unexpected confeſſion given to my natural vanity? and what a mortification would it have been, to ſuch ſincere honeſt people, to hear it from my own mouth? ſo that, could I even have had courage enough to forego the former, as I have more than once thought and even reſolved to do, yet how could I find it in my heart to give ſo ſenſible a diſpleaſure to perſons that had ſhewn ſo much friendſhip and zeal for me? to ſay nothing of the dreadful apprehenſions of the conſequence of their charitable opinion being thereby turned in⯑to a juſt abhorrence and deteſtation. This was the ſad dilemma I found myſelf in when I came to reflect ſeriouſly on my [254] caſe, and which made me conclude it, all things conſidered, altogether impoſſible for me to extricate myſelf out of, without ſome miraculous power to aſſiſt me to overcome a paſſion, which had hitherto eluded all the oppoſition which my reaſon and ex⯑perience had been able to raiſe againſt it. But what glimpſe of hope of any ſuch Divine help could ſuch a wretch have, who, with his eyes open to the guilt and dan⯑ger, had brought himſelf into ſuch a dan⯑gerous ſtate? But God's mercy, which is over all his works, is not to be judged of by us according to our narrow apprehen⯑ſions, but according to the gracious ma⯑nifeſtation he has given us of it in his goſpel; and as that aſſurance gave me good grounds to hope, ſo that hope inſpired me with a deſign to uſe all proper means to obtain it, and leave the iſſue of it to his Divine Providence. To him, therefore, I thankfully give all the praiſe for his unde⯑ſerved and ſingular bleſſing on thoſe means which himſelf directed me to, and what the chiefeſt of them were I have alrea⯑dy mentioned, and ſhall take notice of ſome others in the ſequel, in hopes they [255] may prove of ſervice to ſuch as may ſtand in the ſame need of them as I did then.

However, I muſt own, that the reſolution had ſomething awful and deterring, when I conſidered it in its full extent, to exchange the delights of variety and multiplicity of company (which had been ſo delightful and inſnaring to me till then, that no mo⯑tive or obſtacle could keep me from it) for ſolitude and retirement; their bewitching flatteries and commendations, whether for a falſe merit I had aſſumed, or for ſome valuable things they fancied in me, for a cloſer recollection and abhorrence of my own vileneſs; to ſpending of ſo much pre⯑cious time in the gaities and guilty vanities of life, for a more cloſe application and ſearch after the propereſt and moſt effectual means of redeeming that invaluable jewel, and the parcelling and beſtowing it to the moſt beneficial purpoſes; to retrench not only all unneceſſary and unlawful expences, but even ſome of the common and neceſ⯑ſary ones, in order to make ſome amends for paſt extravagancies, by ſupplying the wants of thoſe many objects, that uſed to paſs by unobſerved and unpitied by me. [256] Theſe, and other ſuch like indiſpenſable preparatives, to the deſired thorough change, ſeemed to carry ſuch unſurmount⯑able difficulties with them, that neither my ſmall ſhare of reaſon nor philoſophy could have ſupported me to any tolerable degree in the reſolutions I was daily ſtriving to make after it. And indeed, nothing ſo effectually did it, as the conſideration that that Divine Providence, which had inſpired me with that deſire, would not fail of com⯑pleating it, if I was not wanting to myſelf; for that at once ſet me upon trying ſome⯑times one, ſometimes another, of thoſe duties, with ſucceſs enough at leaſt to en⯑courage me to proceed.

And here I was again providentially helped by a worthy clergyman at Braintree in Eſſex; who, good man, had a much better opi⯑nion of me than I deſerved, and preſented me with that excellent book called Reform⯑ed devotions, and recommended by the late reverend Dr. Hicks. This excellent book, though then unknown to me, and diſreliſhed by ſome weak Chriſtians, is ſo well known to all the true devout ones, that I need ſay no more in commendation [257] of it, than that it proved of ſuch vaſt be⯑nefit to me, that I can never ſufficiently admire it, or the piety of the compiler and reformer; for the many opportunities and invitations it gives one of frequent and cloſer intercourſe with God, and of meditating, in the moſt exalted manner, on his various works, infinite mercies, and on all the ſub⯑lime truths and duties of Chriſtianity, did ſo effectually reconcile me to that ſolitude and retirement I had formerly been ſo averſe to, and afforded me a moſt noble refreſh⯑ment ſeveral times a day, from my cloſe application to other ſtudies I was then pur⯑ſuing, ſome of which being of the dry, others of the complex kind, might have gone but ſluggiſhly on without it. The late pious Mr. Nelſon's Method of Devotion falling likewiſe, ſoon after, into my hands, in order to be conveyed, by my means, to a young gentlewoman lately recovered from a ſtate of deſpondency, I had the curioſity to run through it, and found in it ſuch ex⯑cellent, yet eaſy rules for the conquering of our natural vices, and recovering the con⯑trary virtues to them, that I made it one [259] of my daily monitors, and with no ſmall ſucceſs.

But that which gave me the greateſt help, was the learned and pious Mr. Law's Se⯑rious Call to Devotion. This truly valu⯑able treatiſe I accidentally found on a cler⯑gyman's table, who, nevertheleſs, ſoon took it out of my hand, and gave ſuch a character of it, as might have diſcouraged me from looking farther into it, had not the place I had opened given me a quite different notion of it. However, as I could not prevail upon him to lend it me, I went and bought me one, and read it over and over, from beginning to end, with greater eagerneſs and ſatisfaction than any I had ever met with on that ſubject. I was particularly much taken with the au⯑thor's motives, as well as his method for the right uſe of our time, money, talents, &c. not to mention that his variety of characters and reaſonings upon them, which are a continued appeal to the moſt unbiaſſed and ſoundeſt judgement, which admit of neither cavil or objection, ſoon opened to me a much better way of applying them to ad⯑vantage, than any I had hitherto, or could [259] indeed have fallen into, without ſuch an excellent guide. The directions he gives for the obtaining of thoſe Chriſtian virtues, which he there recommends as the proper ſubject for the ſeveral hours of prayer in the day, may indeed appear to have ſome⯑thing too technical (ſince it is no other than a daily renewing of thoſe very deſires, till themſelves become the virtues we want) from which too much of the ſucceſs may, by the light and thoughtleſs, be aſcribed to the method, and too little to the grace of God accompanying it. For may not, ſome will be apt to ſay, an honeſt heathen or deiſt, by the ſame method, raiſe him⯑ſelf up into a habit of ſobriety, chaſtity, &c. without any ſuch application to, or parti⯑cular aſſiſtance from, the Supreme Being? yet let any ſerious perſon try the efficacy of it againſt any of his favourite, eſpecially his conſtitutional vices, and he will find, at length, that he hath been only trying to waſh a Blackmoor white, and muſt do ſo to the end of the chapter, without the intervention of Divine grace. As for me I ſhall always, I hope, look upon the de⯑ſire itſelf, as well as the ſucceſs of the [260] means uſed for the obtaining any virtue, to be alike the work of God in the ſoul, let theſe be ſuch as Mr. Law directs, or any other, which Providence puts into our hands.

I had long before this, however, began to conſecrate part of my time to the ſtudy of the ſacred books, tho' not in that re⯑gular and uniform manner as I happily fell into after reading the excellent directory above mentioned, and had made a pretty collection of criticiſms, and other obſer⯑vations upon them, ſuch as occurred on my reading of the various commentators on them; and now it was that I became ſenſible, indeed, of my own want of know⯑ledge of the original Hebrew, and to be⯑wail the loſs of ſeveral opportunities I had miſſed of gaining a more perfect know⯑ledge in that ſacred and uſeful tongue. For I had been ſo diſcouraged from the purſuit of it, by the difficulties I met with at the very threſhold, that is, in the gram⯑mars, that I never had the patience to go thro' one of them, but contented myſelf with the interliniary verſions of Pagninus, Arias Montanus, and other Interpreters; [261] chuſing rather to rely on their honeſty and ſkill, than to be at the trouble of becoming a proper judge of either. It was not in⯑deed poſſible for me to go on long in this groping way, before their various inter⯑pretations of the text, (eſpecially thoſe of ſome bold critics, which ſeemed calculated to unhinge, rather than confirm our belief, by exploding ſeveral, till then, acknowled⯑ged facts and doctrines, or interpreting them in their own artful way) ſet me again upon making ſome freſh efforts, for attain⯑ing a more perfect knowledge of the original, which were however ſoon damped by every freſh difficulty I met with in the common way of learning it, till I providen⯑tially ſtumbled, as it were, on the following eaſy method.

I was then hammering at an exercitation on the 34th Pſalm, printed at the end of the grammar that goes under the name of Bellarmine; in which I found at almoſt every word ſome exceptions to the gram⯑mar rules, and ſuch reaſons aſſigned for them as ſtill carried one farther from the point in view; when a poor man came and offered me a pocket Hebrew pſalter, with [262] Leuſden's Latin verſion, over againſt each page. I greedily bought it, and finding the ver⯑ſion much more eaſy and natural than thoſe literal ones of Pagninus and Montanus, quickly went through every verſe in the book, without troubling myſelf about grammar, or any thing but the true mean⯑ing of every word as they occurred. So that by the time I had given it a ſecond reading, my memory being the beſt faculty I could boaſt of, I had by that very rote, as I may call it, not only gained a conſide⯑rable copia verborum, but by obſervation on the flexion of nouns, verbs, &c. got a tolerable inſight into the declenſions, con⯑jugations, and other parts of the grammar and ſyntax; and, whenever any difficulty or doubt occurred, could eaſily turn to my Bellarmine or even Buxſtorf, the moſt diſ⯑couraging of all; becauſe, having then but one point in view, I could, without per⯑plexing my mind with any more than that, either ſatisfy myſelf about it, or at the worſt poſtpone it, till a further reading and obſervation brought me to it: I became ſo fond of this method, that having gone through a third reading of it, with little or [263] no obſtacle, and in a very little time, I re⯑ſolved thenceforth to confine myſelf to the pſalms of each day, as they are read at church, and to begin with the hiſtorical books.

Here, inſtead of perplexing myſelf with ſuch Bibles as had the ſervile letters printed in a different kind of character, to diſtin⯑guiſh them from the radicals, I pitched upon the firſt edition of that of Munſter, which is far inferior to the ſecond, and, by the help of his verſion on the oppoſite column, though often at ſeveral lines diſtance from the original, had hardly gone through ſix or eight chapters of the firſt book of Samuel, before the eaſe I found in it invited me to go back to Geneſis, and take every chapter in its courſe. I reſolved at firſt to run them over once, without taking notice of his notes, becauſe the greateſt part of them were either of the Maſſoretic or of the Cabbaliſtical kind, and would rather clog than aſſiſt; and even in theſe of the gram⯑matical ſort he lays all along ſo great a ſtreſs on the punctuation for the true meaning and import of each word, as made his ver⯑ſion the leſs to be depended upon. For [264] though I always did and do ſtill look upon the points to be of ſingular help to learners, and conſequently on the method propoſed by ſome moderns of teaching the Hebrew without them, as wild, intricate, and in ſome caſes dangerous, yet from all I had been able to gather from the learned au⯑thors who have wrote on the controverſy, I was ſo far from thinking them of the ſame authority with the text, they plainly appeared of too modern a date to be uſed in any other ſhape than as an expeditious help; and as ſuch I ſtill made uſe of them, without confining myſelf to them any far⯑ther than they were ſupported by the dia⯑lect, by the ancient paraphraſes and ver⯑ſions, and other ſuch critical helps, but made no ſcruple to depart from them whenever a ſmall change of them could afford one a clearer or better ſenſe. And for that I ſhall refer the reader to what I have ſince wrote on that ſo much controverted ſubject in the Jewiſh hiſtory, which makes the ſeventh chapter of the Univerſal Hiſtory, and eſpecially in the folio edition, where I had more room to expatiate upon it than in the octavo one, in which our being confined [265] to reduce the whole within the compaſs of twenty volumes, obliged us to be a little more conciſe. I muſt therefore here own with pleaſure, that all that I there advanced hath been ſo well received, and looked upon as ſo well grounded, that it hath not, that I know of, been ſince cenſured or con⯑tradicted; and that though the controverſy in favour of the antiquity and authority of the points hath been of late revived with no ſmall warmth, I have met with nothing in it, nor heard from either thoſe I converſe or correſpond with, any thing that could give me cauſe to alter my mind. I ſhall only beg leave to add, that my looking on the Hebrew points, both vowel and gra⯑matical only in that view, enabled me to make many uſeful diſcoveries in the ſacred books, which have been highly approved by thoſe who have ſince read them in the hiſtory abovementioned.

But to return to my firſt reading of the origi⯑nal books, I ran with eaſe through the Penta⯑euch, Joſhua, Judges, &c. except the few po⯑etical parts which occur in it, ſuch as Exod. xv. paſſ. Deut. xxxii. Judges v. .1 Sa⯑muel [266] ii. 1-10. where the ſtile is not only ſwoln and figurative, but where the conſtruc⯑tion is harſh, irregular, and to appearance truncated, and ſeveral terms which occur no where elſe; ſo that finding them too hard for me to ſurmount, with all the application I had, I poſtponed them to a future read⯑ing. I found likewiſe pretty near the ſame difficulty in the Proverbs, Eccleſiaſtes, and the Song of Solomon, and much more ſtill in Job; and therefore contented myſelf with catching as much as I could at one curſory reading, and leaving the reſt for hereafter; yet did not this diſcourage me from going through all the Prophets in courſe, though it proved an arduous taſk, and I went but ſlowly on, becauſe in theſe I endeavoured to make myſelf as much maſ⯑ter of their meaning and ſtile, as well as of the new words and phraſes peculiar to them: and as I ſpent generally ſome hours a day on that ſtudy, I had quickly gone through all the ſacred books of the Old Teſtament, excepting thoſe chapters in Da⯑niel, Ezra, &c. which are in the Chaldee, and where I contented myſelf at this firſt reading, with examining as well as I was [267] able, the difference between that and the Hebrew. And here I own I found ſuch a diſparity between them, ſuch a noble ſim⯑plicity, and yet maſculine energy in the latter, and ſuch an apparent ſoftneſs and effeminacy in the former, not unlike what is juſtly obſerved between Latin and Italian, that I believe nothing could have tempted me to become more acquainted with it, had it not been for the vaſt helps which the Chaldee paraphraſe affords us, not only in fixing the meaning of many obſcure words and expreſſions, but, what is ſtill more va⯑luable, in diſcovering the ſentiments of the ancient Jews concerning many pregnant prophecies of the Meſſiah, from which the Talmudic writers have ſince departed out of diſlike to him.

When I came to the ſecond reading of Ge⯑neſis, by which time I had likewiſe ran through the Pſalms five or ſix times, and was got again into the hiſtorical ſtile, I found myſelf ſo unclogged, ſo acquainted with the grammar and ſyntax, and maſter of ſuch a vaſt number of words, that I began to think I might begin to read the Latin into Hebrew; that is, by hiding the Hebrew [268] column with my hand, try how I could make my own agree to it. This I found however too hard and tedious, except in ſome eaſy places or chapters, and I found myſelf not only at a loſs for the words, but moſtly in the conjugating and ſyntax, and though it might in all likelihood have quitted coſt, had I proceeded regularly in that method, yet I found it too tedious, as it took me above twice the time, ſo that I contented myſelf with only trying it now and then, when the humour took, or the ſubject invited me to it. At other leiſure times, I uſed likewiſe to exerciſe myſelf in conjugating of verbs by dint of memory and obſervation, and then to compare it with thoſe in the grammar, by which I ſoon found out wherein I was deficient, and this I thought more expeditious, diverting, and effectual, than the dull method of begin⯑ners, who, by dint of hammering, learn them by heart, ſcarcely knowing what they are about. One thing however I found would be a great help, viz. in all dubious words, as the Hebrew is ſo figurative and ſcanty, to have recourſe to the Lexicon, in order to find out the primitive ſenſe of them [269] from the more remote, which it was eaſy to do by the parallel texts there pointed at, where they occurred. This method duely attended to, opens a ſpacious inſight into the true meaning of the ſacred books. Thus I found for inſtance in the words [...] Geneſis i. 2. the ſpirit of God moved upon the face of the waters, com⯑pared with the motion of the eagle in ſtir⯑ring her young ones to flight, Deut. xxxii. 11. that the verb [...] in the former in its primitive ſenſe, is not ſuch a motion as our verſion expreſſes, nor a brooding like that of the hen over her eggs, as ſome other tranſlations intimate, but a lively agitation, ſuch as much better explains the action of the ſpirit of God upon the face of the waters. This method, which I preferred to the conſulting that variety of verſions we have, which rather confound than fix the ſenſe, inabled me in my very ſecond going through the ſacred books, to make a pretty large collection of ſuch kind of criticiſms and obſervations, as have been ſince of ſingu⯑lar uſe to me in the progreſs of my ſtudy, and in ſome of thoſe works in which I have been ſince engaged, though I little thought then [270] either they, or thoſe which I made out of other authors that came in my way, would ever come into public view.

I had by this time made ſo great a profi⯑ciency in the Hebrew, tongue that I could have talked it pretty fluently, had I been as well acquainted with the pronunciation of it. But as that could not be attained from grammars, which differed almoſt as much in the rules they gave for it, as the native languages of their authors differed from each other, I thought it might be more eaſily attained by converſing with the Jews them⯑ſelves, going to their ſynagogues, and hear⯑ing the Scriptures read by their chazans or miniſters, who, I ſuppoſed, were perfect maſters of it. But here, to my great ſurpriſe, I found that they not only greatly differed among themſelves, that is, the nor⯑thern from the ſouthern, or German, Poliſh, Hungarian, &c. from the Spaniſh, Portu⯑gueſe, Italian, &c. but that every one of them pronounced it after the ſame manner as they did the languages of the countries where they had been brought up, and, as it plainly appeared to me, none of them right. And this was farther confirmed to me by con⯑verſing [271] with ſome Morocco Jews, whoſe native language being the Arabic, made me think they bid faireſt for having retained the antient pronunciation in a greater degree at leaſt of purity; for ſome of them whom I met with by chance in the Portugueſe ſynagogue, made a mere ridicule of their way of reading and pronouncing it. And it was by converſing with ſome of theſe, who were beſides well acquainted with the Hebrew, that I took my rules for a more genuine way of ſpeaking it: and it was no ſmall pleaſure to me to find, that I could be very readily underſtood by all the ſouthern Jews, though I could not ſo eaſily underſtand them, on account of their not ſufficiently diſtinguiſhing between the ſounding of ſundry conſonants, aſpirations, gutturals, &c. which ſeemed to me to have originally differed very greatly; ſuch as the [...] and [...] and [...] the [...] and [...] the [...] and [...] the [...] and [...] &c. but between which they do not make any diſtinction, nor in⯑deed can, for want of having been taught it in their youth. In the ſame manner do they murder it, when they go about to write it in European characters, witneſs that Spaniſh dialogue of the famed R. Netto, [272] intituled [...] [...] eſh dath, the legal fire, but which he ſpells, after his Spaniſh man⯑ner of pronouncing, es dat. However, after I had once been fully appriſed of all the defects of their reading, which ſeveral of them I have converſed with have had the in⯑genuity to own as ſuch, I could eaſily enough underſtand both their lectures of the Old Teſ⯑tament and their prayers. But as to the nor⯑thern Jews, I own I never could con⯑verſe with them in that tongue, without an interpreter, or ſome go-between, who, by the help of travelling into other parts, had learned the way to accomodate their ſpeech to both ways of pronouncing, ſo much wider and uncooth is theirs to that of the ſouthern; and this was no ſmall grief to me, becauſe I always found the northern more learned and communicative, as well as more fluent and ready at ſpeaking that ſacred tongue; though that conſideration was never ſufficient to induce me to be at the pains to accuſtom myſelf to their way. Thus much I thought might be neceſſary to ſay with reſpect to the pronunciation of the Hebrew, to which I ſhall only add, that my method for learning and preſerving it [273] was by reading it aloud to myſelf, and with the ſame exactneſs, as if I had been reading it to an aſſembly.

But what contributed moſt to this extraor⯑dinary readineſs of ſpeaking it, was a me⯑thod I fell into at proper times, when I found myſelf inclined to cloſe thinking, to cloath my ideas in that, inſtead of any other language, or, as one may more pro⯑perly word it, to think in Hebrew rather than in Engliſh, or any other language I was uſed to. The Pſalter, which at my firſt ſetting up for this ſtudy, I had read over for ſome time, at leaſt three or four times a month, and afterwards conſtantly went through once a month ever ſince, was become ſo familiar to me, that I had got it by heart; and as that contains moſt of the radical words, as well as idioms, which are moſt in uſe, I ſeldom was at a loſs for either in theſe my ſoliloquies, or, if I was, I immediately endeavoured to call to mind where I had read any thing like it, either in that or any other of the ſacred books, and by turning to it, if I could not readily recover it by dint of memory, ſeldom failed of fixing it there [274] indelibly. By this means I ſoon acquired not only a ſurpriſing fluency in it, but could ſpeak it in the pure and elegant ſtile of the ſacred writers, and now and then, upon occaſion, raiſe it to the lofty ſtrain of the poetical books. This I was the more admired for, becauſe it was what few, if any, of the learned among the Jews could do, who commonly marred their own by an heterogeneous mixture of the corrupt Talmudic and Rabbinic words and idioms, to which I was then in a great meaſure a ſtranger, nor could ever be reconciled to after I became more ac⯑quainted with them. One may, indeed, obſerve almoſt the ſame difference between the former and the latter, ſome few of theſe excepted, as there is between the Latin of the Auguſtin age, and that which was in vogue after the inundation of the northern barbarians into the Roman em⯑pire, as the reader may ſee by what I have ſaid of it in my Hiſtory of the Jews from their Diſperſion after the deſtruction of Jeruſalem to this time.

By what I have ſaid hitherto of my me⯑thod of learning Hebrew, any one may [275] ſee how eaſily men at years of maturity may come to as perfect knowledge of it, as the thing will admit of, and without the diſcouraging ſlavery of beginning at the grammar, and may even make that a pleaſing relaxation from other ſtudies; and it is with a view of leſſening, if not al⯑together removing thoſe fancied difficul⯑ties and diſcouragements which have been the cauſe of that ſacred tongue being ſo much, and, I may add, ſo ſhamefully neglected, by the clergy eſpecially, that I have ventured to write ſo far on that ſub⯑ject from my own experience; for, let them think of or palliate it as they will, ſuch a neglect muſt of neceſſity be condemned, by all who ſeriouſly conſider how impoſ⯑ſible it is to come at a true knowledge, not only of the Old, but I will be bold to ſay of the New Teſtament, without a ſuf⯑ficient knowledge of the Hebrew: the firſt ſeems to me ſelf-evident, and with re⯑ſpect to the ſecond, or New Teſtament, I need only obſerve, that the writers of it, though inſpired, and endowed with the gift of tongues, did viſibly adhere ſtill to the Hebrew idiom in which they had been [276] brought up, St. Paul himſelf not excepted. Hence, the vaſt quantity of Hebraiſms that occur more or leſs in the Goſpels, Acts, and in the Epiſtles, and which ne⯑ver can be rightly underſtood or explained, but by having recourſe to the Hebrew idiom; but this hath been ſo fully diſ⯑played by much better pens, that I ſhall ſay no more on the ſubject.

I have often wiſhed, indeed, that we had ſome more inviting helps to that ſtudy than we have, and ſuch as might more effectually contribute to overcome the a⯑verſion, or indifference, which our young clergy ſeem to have for it. And in order to contribute ſomething more than a bare wiſh towards it, I had once gone a good way in compoſing a tragi-comic piece, intituled, David and Michol, in Hebrew verſe, wherein I introduced this young princeſs, acknowledging with a ſuitable reluctancy and ſhame to her confident, her new born affection for the young ſhep⯑herd, after ſhe had ſeen him unperceived from behind a curtain in her father's pa⯑vilion, and heard ſome of theſe inimita⯑ble ſtrains with which he was wont to [277] enliven that deſponding monarch in his moſt melancholy hours. The diſtreſs a⯑riſing from the apprehended rivalſhip of her eldeſt ſiſter, who was ſoon after promiſed as a reward to that brave youth, for kill⯑ing the vapouring champion of the Phi⯑liſtines and Morabs, being repreſented here as having already ſettled her affections on Adriel the Meholathite, to whom Saul ac⯑tually gave her ſoon after, contrary to his promiſe (1 Sam. xviii. 19.) the different fears and emotions of the two ſiſters, the means by which they came to underſtand each other's caſe and inclinations, the ſin⯑gular affection of Jonathan towards David, and the kind offices he did him with Saul, in order to procure him his beloved Mi⯑chol, inſtead of her ſiſter; all theſe, I ſay, are repreſented in divers affecting ſcenes, to which the energy of the Hebrew gives no ſmall beauty and pathos. The Epi⯑ſodes, the moſt conſiderable of which con⯑ſiſt of ſeveral interviews and conferences between the prophet Samuel and young David, as when he acquainted him with Saul's utter rejection, and his being choſen by God to ſucceed him in the Iſraelitiſh [278] kingdom, David's ſurpriſe, ſcruples and fears, his dread of entertaining even the moſt diſtant hope of a crown, which he could not obtain but by the moſt unnatural and blackeſt treaſon againſt his father-in-law, and his moſt generous friend Jonathan, and the arguments by which the prophet endeavours to ſatisfy his ſcrupulous mind, that he ſhall enjoy the promiſed crown, without the leaſt ſtain to his loyalty, and at length prevails on him to ſuffer himſelf to be anointed king; theſe, and ſome others of leſs importance, are not improper inter⯑ludes to bring the piece to its happy cata⯑ſtrophe, his marrying the kind and beloved Michol, and being juſtly raiſed to the command of the Iſraelitiſh army. To this I had added a literal verſion, which I deſigned to have illuſtrated with critical notes; but ſome avocations obliged me to ſet it aſide for a conſiderable number of years, and when I came to give it a freſh reading, I found it to fall ſo ſhort of the elegance and loftineſs of the ſacred poets, with whom I was become by that time much better acquainted, and a much greater admirer of, that I was quite diſcouraged from [279] improving or even finiſhing, eſpecially when I conſidered the little likelihood there was of its meeting with encouragement anſwerable to the pains and coſt, at a time when one might obſerve the ſtudy of that tongue to dwindle more and more viſibly into con⯑tempt, among thoſe whoſe duty and buſi⯑neſs it ought to have been to cultivate and promote it.

The ſame mortifying conſideration made me likewiſe ſet aſide a deſign I had formed, of compiling ſome ſcriptural Hebrew Dia⯑logues, in imitation of the Latin ones of Caſtalio, and a ſet of others on more com⯑mon ſubjects, like thoſe of Corderius, tho' not ſo puerile, for the encouragement and diverſion of young beginners; and a third between a Jew, and a Chriſtian, on the moſt material points of controverſy between us, together with a collection and expoſi⯑tion of a great number of texts, both in the Old, and New Teſtament, plainly foretelling the future reſtoration of the twelve tribes of Iſrael, to their own Land, and their embracing Chriſtian religion at the ſecond coming of Chriſt, towards [280] the cloſe of the ſixth, or in the beginning of the ſeventh millenary of the world; for though that doctrine is, as the Jews at Rome ſaid of Chriſtianity, every where ſpoken againſt, (Acts, cap. ult. v. 22.) I never found it to be ſo but by men who, like theſe Jews had never rightly conſi⯑dered it; whilſt thoſe who really have, (among whom I have known ſeveral emi⯑nent divines of the church of England, and ſome among the Diſſenters who were thoroughly ſatisfied with it) contented them⯑ſelves with owning their belief of it to their intimate friends, without daring to preach or promote it, for fear of being re⯑flected or ridiculed for it. But I have had frequent occaſion to obſerve ſince (vide Jual un Heſtor, fol. edit. vol. i. p. 613, &c. 8vo. edit. vol. iii. p. 39. and above all, ſee the concluſion of their hiſtory, from the diſper⯑ſion to this preſent time) that the Chriſ⯑tians denying that doctrine, is one of the moſt effectual means not only of hardening the Jews in their unbelief, but of unhing⯑ing one of the greateſt evidences of the Chriſtian faith, ſince it cannot be proved in any ſenſe, that any of thoſe glorious pro⯑phecies [281] concerning the happy ſtate of the Jews under the Meſſiah, which are ſcat⯑tered through the Old and New Teſta⯑ment, have been fulfilled; but that, on the contrary, they have for the moſt part been hated, perſecuted and miſerable, in moſt countries in the world, ever ſince the death of Chriſt. However, as I had little en⯑couragement to hope that ſuch a ſubject, written in Hebrew, how beneficial ſoever it might have proved, at leaſt to young be⯑ginners, eſpecially by the help of the Latin verſion, would reliſh with the preſent age, I likewiſe poſtponed it for ſome happier time, which is not yet come, if ever I ſhould live to ſee it.

I therefore contented myſelf with preparing for the preſs a new edition of the Pſalms, with Leuſden's Latin verſion over againſt it, and ſome critical and other notes for the uſe of the learners, interſperſed here and there, with others of a more curious nature, on ſeveral defficient places of that book, and moſt of them new. To this I deſigned a preface, that ſhould give an account of the method by which I had, chiefly by the means of the pſalms, attained to my know⯑ledge [282] of the Hebrew tongue, in the man⯑ner I have lately related. I deſigned to add ſome further directions than thoſe I have mentioned, with reſpect to the more eaſy attaining a readineſs of underſtanding and ſpeaking it, one of which was, in the frequent reading to change the third into the ſecond perſon at proper places, and ſo turn⯑ing the pſalm into a kind of prayer, which, by raiſing the attention, imprints the words more in the mind, as well as familiarizes the conjugating of the verbs, &c. and this I found a great help to my progreſs, and was approved by ſome judges, upon which I acquainted Mr. Palmer, of Bartholomew's Cloſe, one of the beſt printers then in Eng⯑land, with my deſign, and was ſurpriſed one day on my coming to talk further about it, to hear that the reverend Dr. W— had been there juſt before, to treat with him about printing a new edition of it, ſaid to have been compiled by Dr. Hare, ſince biſhop of Chicheſter, who pretended to have found out the true metre of the Pſalms, and by means of that to have made a great number of conſiderable diſcoveries and emendations in the original. I knew [283] but too well how many excellent critics had already ſplit upon that fatal rock, and who, inſtead of correcting, had quite marred the Hebrew, by diſtorting, tranſpoſing and altering it at pleaſure, in order to bring it to their model, to expect any thing ſolid or ſatisfactory from that quarter, conſider⯑ing eſpecially the character of the author. Nor was I miſtaken, though this performance did not appear in print till ſeven or eight years after, and then to my great ſurpriſe. For Mr. Palmer had amuſed me with the belief that the deſign was ſet aſide, either on account of its being found impracticable, or at leaſt too difficult and dangerous; for that, upon his applying to Dr. W— to enquire further about it, he had received ſuch evaſive anſwers, as plainly convinced him, that the author did not deſign to go on with it, which ſtill confirmed me more in my old opinion, that all attempts to recover the antient metre of the ſacred poetical books, were fruitleſs and loſt labour. It appeared however, as I ſhall ſhow here⯑after, that Mr. Palmer impoſed upon me, and that he knew that the deſign was car⯑ried on in another printing-houſe, though [284] with ſuch privacy, that I never heard or dreamed of it, though I had been long ac⯑quainted with Mr. Bowyer, who was em⯑ployed in the printing of it. So far from it was I, that I began to think Mr. Palmer had only invented that ſtory to divert me from printing my propoſed edition, in order to ſet me upon another work, in which he was more immediately concerned, and expected greater credit, as well as preſent profit from. This was his hiſtory of print⯑ing, which he had long promiſed to the world, but for which he was not at all qualified. However, he deſigned to have added a ſecond part, relating to the practical art, which was more ſuited to his genius, and in which he deſigned to have given a full account of all that relates to that branch, from the letter-founding to the moſt ele⯑gant way of printing, impoſing, bind⯑ing, &c. in which he had made conſide⯑rable improvements of his own, beſides thoſe he had taken from foreign authors; but this ſecond part, though but then as it were in embryo, met with ſuch early and ſtrenuous oppoſition from the reſpective bodies of letter founders, printers, and book⯑binders, [285] under an ill-grounded apprehenſion, that the diſcovery of the myſtery of thoſe arts, eſpecially the two firſt, would render them cheap and contemptible (whereas the very reverſe would have been the caſe, they appearing indeed the more curious and worthy our admiration, the better they are known) that he was forced to ſet it aſide. But as to the firſt part, viz. the hiſtory of printing, he met with the greateſt en⯑couragement, not only from them, but from a very great number of the learned, who all engaged to ſubſcribe largely to it, particularly the late earls of Pembroke and Oxford, and the famous doctor Mead, whoſe libraries were to furniſh him with the nobleſt materials for the compiling of it, and did ſo accordingly.

The misfortune was, that Mr. Palmer, knowing himſelf unequal to the taſk, had turned it over to one Papiat, a broken Iriſh bookſeller then in London, of whom he had a great opinion, though ſtill more un⯑qualified for it than he, and only aimed at getting money from him, without ever doing any thing towards it, except amuſing him with fair promiſes for near three quar⯑ters [286] of a year. He had ſo long dallied with him that they were come within three months of the time in which Mr. Palmer had engaged to produce a compleat plan, and a number or two of the firſt part, by way of ſpecimen of the work, viz. the inven⯑tion and improvement of it by John Fauſt at Mentz; and theſe were to be ſhewn at a grand meeting of learned men, of which Dr. Mead was preſident that year, and being his ſingular friend and patron, was to have promoted a large ſubſcription and pay⯑ment, which Mr. Palmer ſtood in great need of at that time. Whereas Papiat had got nothing ready but a few looſe and imperfect extracts out of Chevalier la Caille, and ſome other French authors on the ſubject, but which could be of little or no uſe, becauſe he frequently miſtook them, and left blanks for the words he did not underſtand.

Theſe however, ſuch as they were, Mr. Palmer brought to me, and earneſtly preſſed me that I would ſet aſide all other things I might be then about, and try to produce the expected plan and ſpecimen by the time promiſed, ſince he muſt be ruined both in credit and pocket, if he diſappointed his [287] friends of it. It was well for him and me, that the ſubject lay within ſo ſmall a com⯑paſs as the conſulting of about twelve or fourteen principal authors, and the con⯑troverſy between Mentz and Harlem univer⯑ſally decided in favour of the former, ſo that I eaſily fell upon a proper plan of the work, which I divided into three parts, the firſt which was, to give an account of the inven⯑tion of the art, and its firſt eſſays by Fauſt at Mentz, and of its improvement by fuſile or metal types, varniſh, ink, &c. by his ſon-in-law Peter Schoeffer. The ſecond was to contain its propagation and further improvement, through moſt part of Europe, under the moſt celebrated printers; and the third an account of its in⯑troduction and progreſs into England. This, together with above one half of the firſt part, were happily finiſhed, and produced by the time appointed, and met with more approbation and encouragement from his friends than I feared it would, being con⯑ſcious how much better it might have turned out, would time have permitted it. And this I chiefly mention, not ſo much to excuſe the defects of ſuch a horrid perfor⯑mance, [288] as becauſe it hath given me ſince frequent occaſion to obſerve how many much more conſiderable works have been ſpoiled, both at home and abroad, through the impatience of the ſubſcribers; though this is far enough from being the only, or even the greateſt inconvenience that attends moſt of thoſe kinds of ſubſcriptions.

As to Mr. Palmer, his circumſtances were by this time ſo unaccountably low and unfor⯑tunate, conſidering the largeneſs and ſucceſs of his buſineſs, and that he was himſelf a ſober induſtrious man, and free from all extravagance, that he could not extricate himſelf by any other way, but by a ſtatute of bankrupt, which cauſed his hiſtory to go ſluggiſhly on; ſo that notwithſtanding all the care and kind aſſiſtance of his good friend Dr. Mead, a ſtubborn diſtemper, which his misfortunes brought upon him, carried him off before the third part of it was finiſhed. This defect, however, was happily ſupplied by the late noble earl of Pembroke, who being informed by Mr. Pain the engraver, Mr. Palmer's brother-in-law, what condition the remainder was left in, and that I was the perſon who had [289] wrote the former parts, ſent for me, and, with his uſual generoſity, enjoined me to compleat the work, according to the plan; and not only defrayed all the charges of it, even of the paper and printing, but furniſhed me with all neceſſary materials out of his own library; and, when the work was finiſhed, his lordſhip reſerved only ſome few copies to himſelf, and gave the re⯑mainder of the impreſſion to Mr. Palmer's widow, not without ſome farther tokens of his liberality.

Before I leave this ſubject, I muſt, in juſtice to that noble peer, give an inſtance or two of his generoſity and ſingular integrity. At my firſt coming into England, I had had the honour to be introduced to him, and to dine with him and other great perſons in his company, and had received no ſmall tokens of his regard, till he conceived a juſt diſguſt at one abſurd fact I had affirmed in my fabulous hiſtory of Formoſa, viz. the Greek tongue being taught there as a learned language, which monſtrous abſur⯑dity ſufficiently ſhewed my ignorance and indiſcretion at the time of my writing it, and from that time his lordſhip gave me up [290] for what I was, an impoſtor, and I ſaw him no more, till above twenty-eight years after, when Mr. Pine brought me to him, in or⯑der to finiſh the book abovementioned. At my firſt coming into his preſence, his lord⯑ſhip preſently knew me again, and reminded me of my having been often with him, and of the reaſon of his taking a diſlike to me; upon which I readily owned the juſtneſs of the charge, and of his reſentment, which I begged his lordſhip to look upon as the effect of a raſh inconſiderate piece of youthful vanity, which I had long ſince diſclaimed, and condemned myſelf for, and aſſured him, that I had ſince then, I thanked God, fallen into ſo laudable a way of living, as I doubted not his lordſhip, if he knew of it, would not but approve of. Mr. Pine confirmed what I had ſaid; and his lord⯑ſhip with his uſual affability and condeſcen⯑ſion, highly congratulated and commended me for it, and was pleaſed to expreſs a more than ordinary pleaſure at it, exhort⯑ing me to continue in the ſame good mind and way, and aſſuring me of his friend⯑ſhip and encouragement; and from that time I cannot ſufficiently acknowledge his [291] extreme benevolence and condeſcenſion, in not only furniſhing me with all the books and other helps I wanted, but in his generouſly rewarding me for what I did; and when I was forced afterwards to ac⯑quaint him that I was a perſon concerned in the writing of the Univerſal Hiſtory, became a ſubſcriber and encourager of it, as I ſhall preſently have occaſion to ſhew. It was a little before Mr. Palmer's death, that this work, the project of which had been formed by Mr. Crockat, and the ex⯑cellent plan by the late famed Mr. Sale, met with an unexpected ſtop, by an un⯑happy quarrel between the proprietors and the authors, at the head of whom was Mr. Sale abovementioned, when I was recom⯑mended to the former as a proper perſon to ſupply the place of ſome of the latter, who had abſolutely declined being farther concerned in it. This rupture happened ſoon after the publication of the third number, anno 1730, when Mr. Pal⯑mer brought me the three printed num⯑bers from the proprietors, and deſired, if after having read them and the plan, I had a mind to engage myſelf in the work, [292] I ſhould give them and the reſt of the authors a meeting at a place and day appointed, which I accordingly did, and after having informed myſelf with their terms, method, and other previous particulars, readily un⯑dertook to write the Jewiſh hiſtory, in which I was the moſt verſed, and for which I knew myſelf already provided with a conſiderable quantity and variety of mate⯑rials, which I had been collecting for my private uſe for ſeveral years; and as I have been one of the chief perſons concerned as an author, not only in the firſt, but alſo in the ſecond edition, and ſo was perfectly acquainted with every ſtep taken in the progreſs of the work, the encouragements and difficulties it hath met with, as well as with the merit and demerit of every part of it, I ſhall make no difficulty to inſert here a faithful and impartial account of the whole, at leaſt ſo far as it may be of ſervice to the public, and prove a means of making any future editions more compleat, by pointing out the many falſe ſteps which I found were impoſſible for us to avoid in the two former.

[293]And here I muſt obſerve, in the firſt place, that though the deſign was publicly pre⯑tended to be carried on by a ſociety of learned gentlemen, yet in fact Mr. Sale was to be the ſole conductor of it, by the aſſiſtance of ſuch ammanuenſes as he ſhould think fit to employ in the work. And though, in point of learning, no man might be better qualified than he, for ſuch an ar⯑duous and extenſive undertaking, yet his known ſtrait circumſtances obliged him to have ſo many other irons in the fire (to ſay nothing of his natural indolence, the ſad effects of which, not only the proprietors of this work, but many others of that pro⯑feſſion have ſufficiently felt) that it was im⯑poſſible for him to give it that attention which a work of that nature deſerved, much leſs the diſpatch he had engaged with them for, viz. the publiſhing twenty ſheets per month. Accordingly upon enquiry I could not find that he ever wrote more than the firſt number; which, though puffed up with the ſpecious pretence of a ſecond edition, every reader verſed on the ſubjects treated in it, might eaſily know where he had got all his materials ready [294] gathered to his hand; yet ſo long was he in publiſhing it, that his delay occaſioned the firſt miſunderſtanding between him and the proprietors, which was however fol⯑lowed by a greater.

The ſecond and third numbers, which ap⯑peared afterwards to have been written by his two ammanuenſes, till then unknown to the partners, came out indeed more regularly; but the proprietors, who had already paid Mr. Sale for them, were not a little ſurpriſed when the two young authors (whom I forbear naming, becauſe they are both alive and make a good figure, the one in a high poſt, and the other in the commonwealth of learning) came and demanded the money for their copy. The propietors did indeed produce his receipts for much greater ſums than the three numbers could amount to, but though they knew that he was not in a capacity to pay them, they refuſed to make a ſecond diſburſement for what they had more than payed for, whilſt the ſufferers, on the other hand, refuſed to go on further with the work, till they were ſatisfied for what they had done. The partners ſtiffly refuſing to comply, the reſult was, that one of them [295] not only quite declined all further meddling in the work, but vented his reſentment by crying it down, and all the perſons con⯑cerned in it, authors as well as proprietors. Mr. Sale was ſtill more outrageous againſt them, of whom the latter had taken a note of 72 pounds, payable on demand, for money overpaid, and the embezzlement of a conſiderable number of books, which they had furniſhed him to carry on the deſign. This note was probably taken with a view of keeping him in awe, but neither that nor their threats could contain him within bounds, ſo that he became a moſt inveterate enemy to the deſign, and did all he could to diſ⯑credit and obſtruct it.

This was the hopeleſs ſituation of the work at my firſt being invited to it, and againſt which I cannot forbear mentioning an⯑other diſcouragement, viz. the freedom which the authors of the foregoing part had taken in reflecting, as often as they had op⯑portunity, againſt the Moſaic account, eſpe⯑cially in the hiſtory of the antient Canaan⯑ites, where God is recorded to have treated them with ſuch ſeverity in favour of the Iſraelites, and where they made no diffi⯑culty [296] to reflect upon that partiality, as incon⯑ſiſtent with the divine juſtice and goodneſs towards a favourite nation, who are there repreſented as by far the worſe of the two: for, as I took the liberty to obſerve to them, beſides that all the objections againſt the divine conduct in this particular have been ſo often and ſo effectually anſwered by learned divines, that there can be no juſtifi⯑able reaſon given for reviving them here, this manner of treating Moſes's writings is far below the regard that ſuch an antient and celebrated author may challenge, ab⯑ſtractedly even from his being acknowledged an inſpired penman, by Jews, Turks and Chriſtians. And therefore added, I will never engage in the work, unleſs you will allow me to follow the oppoſite tract, and, inſtead of reflecting, to vindicate both his character and writings, as often as occaſion offers, either from the works of our beſt divines, or from ſundry new obſervations I have had opportunity to make on the books of that divine lawgiver. I much queſtion, if they had not been at ſuch a nonplus for a hand to go immediately upon the Jewiſh hiſtory, whether they would have ever [297] yielded to theſe terms, ſuch was their opinion of Mr. Sale, whom they knew had no great regard for the Old Teſtament, and who had long ago inſpired one, if not both of his ammanuenſes with a moſt outrageous zeal againſt it. However, I got them with ſome trouble to acquieſce, and let me take my own way, only Mr. Provoſt, then one of the partners, begged it as a favour of me, that I would not be righteous over much.

I gave them ſoon after good cauſe to be ſatisfied with my advice and conduct, and the unexpected encouragement which the work met with, after the regular publica⯑tion of two or three numbers of the Jewiſh hiſtory (to ſay nothing of the commenda⯑tions given to it in print, by two ſuch learned perſons as Dr. Chapman, chaplain to his grace of Canterbury, and Dr. Pearce, rector of St. Martin's in the fields) raiſed it into ſuch reputation and vogue, that they no longer doubted of its ſucceſs; inſo⯑much that they began now to enlarge the edition from 750 to 1000. And this I mention with pleaſure, becauſe the great call there was for it from that time, to what they had found before, when the numbers [298] were returned to them by dozens from other bookſellers, plainly ſhewed how few encouragers it would have met with among the freethinkers and unbelievers, to what it did among thoſe of a different, and I may add, of a better way of thinking. There was indeed one main objection made, viz. my claſhing with thoſe who had gone be⯑fore me; and I remember more particularly, that the late earl of Pembroke (who, as I lately hinted, was an encourager of the work, and to whom I was obliged to ex⯑cuſe my not waiting ſo often on him as he deſired, in order to finiſh the third part of Mr. Palmer's hiſtory above mentioned, by acquainting his lordſhip that much of my time was taken up with the Univerſal Hiſ⯑tory, in which I was engaged) expreſſed no ſmall diſlike at this contraſt, or, as he was pleaſed to call it, chequer-work between the Jewiſh hiſtory, and ſome of the num⯑bers that preceded it; the one expreſſing all along an unaccountable diſregard for the Moſaic writings, whilſt the other took all proper occaſion to vindicate them, in a manner which he was pleaſed to call ſo very laudable and juſt; upon which I was [299] forced to acquaint his lordſhip, that the former part had been printed ſome time before I was concerned in the work, and written by perſons in a very different way of thinking from me, and which I had publicly diſallowed; but as they had ſince declined the work, the proprietors had left me wholly at my liberty to take my own way, which I was fully determined to pur⯑ſue to the end, ſo that there would be no more ſuch contradictions to be found in the ſequel, becauſe all that related to the Jewiſh nation down to their diſperſion at the de⯑ſtruction of Jeruſalem, or even from that to the preſent time, if we were encouraged to continue it, would fall to my ſhare; and that thoſe who were to write the hiſto⯑ries of the Aſſyrians, Medes, Perſians, and other nations which had any connection with the Jewiſh, ſhould be obliged to fol⯑low the ſame tract, and acknowledge the divine authority of the Old Teſtament. This his lordſhip highly approved, and as to the remaining difficulty, viz. the reconciling what was already printed, and he thought paſt remedying, I told his lordſhip, that the greateſt part of theſe early numbers having [300] been miſlaid, and ſo bandied about and waſted that there would be ſpeedily a ne⯑ceſſity of reprinting them, I would engage to reviſe and correct them, ſo as to make the whole uniform, which was ſoon after done accordingly. But when, for the credit of the work, I propoſed to the proprietors the calling in of the old numbers, and giving the purchaſers the new ones in lieu of them, the greater part of them lent a deaf ear to it, alledging, that they were ſo much out of pocket already, that they could not afford to deſtroy ſo great a number of copies for the ſake of uniformity, and that the work muſt take its chance without it.

This was not the only inſtance in which they ſtood in their own light; I ſhall beg leave to add one or two more. Before the ninth number of the firſt volume had been publiſhed, they had received ſeveral letters from the learned both at home and abroad, directed to the authors, particu⯑larly two from Holland, the one from a perſon who tranſlated our hiſtory into French, and the other into Dutch, and publiſhed them there regularly every month, as we did here. Theſe, among other com⯑mendations [301] and encouragements, deſired us to ſend them the ſheets as faſt as printed here, for the better diſpatch of their ver⯑ſion, and keeping time with us; offering to make any reaſonable ſatisfaction for it, and to promote the credit and ſale of the Engliſh original on the other ſide the water. The Dutch tranſlator in particular, who was a man of learning and character, ac⯑quainted us, not without a handſome and modeſt apology, with ſome alterations and deviations he had taken the liberty to make from our printed copy, in the three or four firſt numbers, and deſired us above all things to ſettle a correſpondence with him, that we might freely communicate our thoughts to one another, promiſing to ſend us, at the concluſion of each volume a copy, of his verſion, with the alterations marked in the margin, and the ſentiments of the learned beyond ſea; about the work which he accordingly did at the cloſe of his firſt volume, though we had not been able to prevail upon the proprietors to ſend them the ſheets in the manner above deſired, and were not willing to do it without their con⯑ſent, they being all apprehenſive that theſe [302] would hinder the ſale of the Engliſh original there. We tried in vain to con⯑vince them of the contrary, by ſhewing them that it would rather forward it, by making it more known and famed abroad; for that not only the Engliſh there, but likewiſe thoſe who underſtood that lan⯑guage, would ſtill chuſe to read it in the original rather than in a verſion. I like⯑wiſe tried to make them ſenſible how ne⯑ceſſary and uſeful ſuch a correſpondence would be to us, and how much it would in all likelihood contribute to the credit and re⯑putation of the work, and what need we ſtood in to uſe all proper helps, in a work of ſo arduous and extenſive a nature. The only thing they would agree to, was that we might, if we thought fit, ſtill correſpond with them, (and that they knew we could do without their leave) but as to the ſending the ſheets as ſoon as printed, they abſolutely refuſed; ſo that we were forced to put an end to the one for want of being able to comply with the other.

The next inſtance I ſhall give is ſtill of a more ſordid nature. They were obliged to furniſh us with all neceſſary books [303] for the work, and on my firſt going upon the Jewiſh hiſtory, I ſent them a liſt of ſuch as were really wanted, though ſome of them very conſiderable both in bulk and value, ſuch as the Thalmuds, Polyglott, Opera Criticorum, &c. and was ſurpriſed at the difficulties they made, and objections they raiſed againſt both the number and charge of them, alledging on the one hand the vaſt number of them that had been for⯑merly embezzled and loſt, which they pre⯑tended to amount to near 200l. and on the other, the vaſt expence they had already been at, and the little returns made for it in the four firſt numbers; ſo that if I would not diſpenſe with a good number of the deareſt ſort, they were afraid they muſt deſiſt from proceeding farther. It was well for them, as well as me, that I had then a free acceſs to Sion College library, by an order from the preſident and ſome of the heads of that ſociety, and which I had made uſe of for ſome years, whenever I ſtood in need of it; ſo that I readily engaged to ſtrike out all thoſe that I ſhould find there, provided they would promiſe to find me all the reſt. By which means, as well as by the [304] kind aſſiſtance of my good friend the re⯑verend Mr. Reading, the late worthy library-keeper, who having the goodneſs to bring me all the books I called for, without the trouble of my looking out for them in their reſpective ſhelves, to my writ⯑ing deſk at the farther end of the li⯑brary, I could with eaſe conſult all my au⯑thors, make what extracts I wanted out of them, after which he took the pains of returning them to their proper places.

Now as this ſaved the bookſellers the buy⯑ing of near, if not more than 100l. worth of books, and me a great deal of trouble, (for Mr. Reading did moſt frequently enquire of me what part of a book I de⯑ſigned to conſult, and being well acquainted with moſt of them, brought them to me opened at the very place I wanted, which enabled me to make more diſpatch, and to keep up to the time of publication) I in⯑ſiſted at one of our meetings, and I thought juſtly too, that they ſhould, by way of acknowledgement, preſent either the library, or the worthy keeper of it, with a ſet of volumes, as ſoon as they come out, which, I told them, might likewiſe be a means of [305] recommending the work to thoſe divines and others that frequented that place. They all ſeemed readily to agree to the propoſal, and I acquainted Mr. Reading, who was not a little pleaſed with it, and told me, that, for his part, he was very ready to do all he could to promote our deſign, without any ſuch view, though he ſaid that he ſhould be glad to ſee it pre⯑ſented to the library, as it was a work which he much approved as far as we had gone, the chronology excepted, to which he thought that of the learned Uſher vaſtly preferable. I told him I was wholly of his opinion, and was ſorry Mr. Sale had ever fixed upon this, but that it was done before I was concerned in the work, and could not now be retrieved, at leaſt in this firſt edition, but by the readers making up the difference either in their mind or with the pen. I added, that I had reaſon to believe, that if the work came ever to be reprinted, we ſhould exchange it for that of Archbiſhop Uſher, as we have actually done. However, as ſoon as the firſt part of the Jewiſh hiſtory was printed off, I took a little receſs among ſome of my [306] friends in Hampſhire, where I compleated my next taſk, viz. the hiſtory of the Celtes and the Scythians, and as I had the free uſe of ſeveral libraries there, I ſaved the proprietors the charge of buying thoſe books I was ſure to find in any of them, and as ſoon as I found by the public papers, that the firſt volume was publiſhed, wrote a letter to put them in mind of their promiſe of preſenting one of them to Sion College library; but I was much ſurpriſed at my coming to town, to find that they had abſolutely reſolved againſt it, on pre⯑tence that it might hinder many clergymen from buying it, if they could have the reading of it there. I tried in vain to fore⯑warn them that I ſhould want moſt of the ſame ſcarce and chargeable books, beſides a number of others, for the writing the ſecond part of the Jewiſh hiſtory, in a ſubſequent volume, in which caſe they could not expect that I ſhould again have recourſe to my good friend Mr. Reading, but muſt of neceſſity be at the expence of buying them; they choſe to run the hazard of it, and I took care not to ſpare them in one of them, when it came to the point.

[307]From theſe few inſtances, the reader may eaſily gueſs that the then partners were not quite ſo ſolicitous for the credit of the work, as might have been wiſhed, con⯑ſidering how well it took by this time. But I muſt in juſtice to them acquaint him, that (beſides the great difficulties they la⯑boured under to procure proper hands to go on with it, and for which I refer him to what I have ſaid in the dedication and preface to the laſt volume of the folio edi⯑tion) they had met with many unexpected and conſiderable loſſes; ſome of the newly engaged authors, for inſtance took up pretty round ſums before-hand, and never wrote a line of the part they had undertaken; others, even among the old ones, wrote theirs in ſuch a careleſs manner as not to be fit to appear in print, when they came to be examined by the reſt, and yet were paid the ſame to the full as if their copy had paſſed muſter, though the whole was to be done again de novo, and the re⯑tarding of the work was an additional loſs to the proprietors. I will add, that I have ſince known near twenty ſheets of the be⯑ginning of the Byzantine hiſtory, done by [308] a judicious hand, and printed off, yet con⯑demned to waſte paper chiefly becauſe it was ſpun to too great a length, which was ſtill a much greater loſs. The truth is, that the author of the Roman hiſtory, hav⯑ing wire-drawn it to above three times the length it was to have been, there was an abſolute neceſſity of curtailing that of the Conſtantinopolitan emperors, to prevent the work ſwelling into an enormous bulk; and he himſelf hath abridged it in ſuch a manner as hath quite marred it, ſince the reader will find moſt reigns contained in as many ſhort paragraphs as they would have required ſheets, which is ſo much the greater loſs to the public, inaſmuch as the Roman hiſtory being ſo well known, and written by ſo many hands, was the fitteſt to have been thus epitomiſed; whereas the Byzantine, though equally curious and inſtructive, is ſo little known, that it ought to have been written in a more copious manner, eſpecially as it abounds with the moſt intereſting incidents to the church as well as the ſtate. So that the author hath done in both reſpects [309] the very reverſe of what he ought to have done.

The reader may, from the inſtances above mentioned, ſuppoſe perhaps, that we the au⯑thors kept conſtantly to our meetings and ex⯑amining each part in a body, as we uſed to do at firſt ſetting out, a method of the greateſt conſequence towards the carrying on ſuch a work, and which the proprietors were not wanting in generoſity to promote; but we ſoon found the new comers ſo averſe to continue it, or ſubmit the review of their copy to the old ones, that they either abſented themſelves from our meetings, or elſe condeſcended only to anſwer ſuch queſtions as were aſked them by the old ones concerning their fixing any point of hiſtory, which had a connection with that of another nation; as the Macedonians and Greeks, for inſtance, done by two or three hands, to prevent our claſhing with each other about uncertain or controverted facts; in every reſpect, they inſiſted on going on each in his own way, as they were, they told us, ſufficiently acquainted with the ſubject they had in hand. By this means it was that they indulged themſelves in the [310] liberty of going beyond their bounds, and ſwelling each part to double the bulk agreed on, by often repeating the ſame common facts in each ſeparate hiſtory, which we had agreed ſhould be related at length but in its proper place, whilſt every other occa⯑ſion that offered for freſh mention of them, was to be only referred to that, either as promiſcua to follow in the ſequel, or as a reference to what hath already been ſaid.

For we had from the beginning agreed upon this method, that nothing ſhould be related at length concerning the hiſtory of any nation or country, but what was tranſ⯑acted within the boundaries of it; and that the wars, conqueſts, &c. which were car⯑ried on abroad, ſhould be mentioned chiefly in the hiſtory of thoſe countries where they were made; to do otherwiſe, would be, as was hinted at the beginning of the firſt vo⯑lume, treating thoſe conquered nations with the ſame arbitrary contempt and neg⯑lect as their conquerors had formerly done. Thus, for inſtance, it was reſolved that Alexander's hiſtory ſhould be confined to Macedonia, and his other conqueſts re⯑ferred [311] to that of thoſe nations he ſubdued; that that of the Romans, ſhould be con⯑fined within the limits of Italy, and their new lawleſs acquiſitions referred to the hiſtory of the Gauls, Germans, Spaniards, Carthaginians, &c. that were to follow. This would at once have effectually cut off all needleſs repetitions, with which the work hath been ſwelled beyond its de⯑ſigned length, without docking the hiſtory of any nation, as we have been ſince forced to do, to avoid falling into the ſame fault in which the writers of the ſeveral Greek hiſtories have fallen, where the reader may ſee the ſame facts related over and over in the hiſtories of the Macedonians, Athenians, Spartans, &c. not without ſome viſible and unjuſtifiable variations, all which might eaſily have been avoided, had the au⯑thors kept within the rules abovementioned. But no one hath ſhewn a greater diſregard to them, than the author of the Roman hiſtory, who hath ſwallowed up all the unhappy nations that fell into thoſe con⯑querors clutches without diſtinction, and expatiated with the ſame diffuſeneſs on their hiſtory without, as he hath in that within [312] their territories, which though ſome of our readers have approved of, as it gives a more connected hiſtory of that nation, a thing ſo much the leſs needful in a work of this extenſive nature, as we have it written in a body by ſo many different hands, yet hath been highly diſliked by the far greater, and I may add the more judi⯑cious part of them, as contrary to our plan and engagements to the public, and to the nature of an Univerſal Hiſtory, wherein that of every nation, ſhould be found fully diſplayed, and every fact confined to its pro⯑per ſcene of action. It was to the neglect of attending to, or rather keeping up to this original deſign, that we muſt aſcribe two conſiderable defects in the work, againſt which our readers have juſtly complained. The one, that ſome hiſtories, as for inſtance, that of the Carthaginians, had been fraught with an unneceſſary repetition of all their wars with the Romans, or which had been already fully related in the Roman hiſtory, to the ſwelling of the work beyond its due limits; the other, that to avoid that inconveniency and charge to the purchaſers, thoſe of the Gauls, Germans and Spaniards [313] are truncated, and their wars with, and reduction by the Romans are barely referred to what hath been ſaid in the Roman hiſ⯑tory, where they are ſcattered and ſo inter⯑ſperſed with that of other nations, that it cannot be called a regular and compleat hiſtory of them. And what is this but abſorbing all theſe brave nations by the lump, into that of their tyrannic conquerors; and how could I, to whoſe lot the hiſtory of thoſe three ancient nations fell, avoid it by any other way, but that of recapitulating all afreſh, in the moſt compendious manner I could, to avoid ſwelling the work and re⯑ferring the reader to the volume and page of the Roman hiſtory, where the facts are mentioned at length. And there was by that time the more cauſe to abridge all theſe needleſs repetitions, becauſe the pur⯑chaſers, and after them the bookſellers, had juſtly complained, how vaſtly the work was already ſwelled beyond the bounds to which we had promiſed to confine it. But this was not ſo readily complied with by the reſt, who having finiſhed each their reſpective hiſtories, according to the plan and me⯑thod agreed upon, and mentioned above, [314] and either did not dream that the writer of the Roman hiſtory would go contrary, or when they found he had, did reſent it too much to ſuffer their own to be truncated on his account, inſiſted upon their being printed at full length, and with all their repe⯑titions. And this the bookſellers were forced to ſubmit to, for fear not only of diſoblig⯑ing the authors, but likewiſe of retarding the regular publication of the volumes.

But what will eaſily convince the reader, as it hath me long ſince, how much more earneſt the writer of the Roman hiſtory was to promote his own ignoble intereſt, at the expence of the proprietors as well as the credit of the work, is, that when he came afterwards to write the ſecond part of the hiſtory of the Perſians, he hath re⯑peated at length all their wars with the eaſtern emperors, together with all the other facts and incidents that paſſed between them, at full length, inſtead of referring to what he had formerly ſaid in the Byzan⯑tine hiſtory; for this plainly ſhews that the dulcis odor lucri, more effectually influenced him than all the complaints of the propri⯑etors and purchaſers, which laſt were be⯑come [315] ſo rife that we thought it neceſſary to publiſh ſomething by way of excuſe for this exceſs of bulk, and at the ſame time to make the beſt appology we could for that and other deviations from our original plan, without diſcovering the cauſes they were owing to, which would have rather helped to diſcredit the work in the eye of the world, which did not dream how little unanimity there was in our proceedings, and how impoſſible it was for the beſt in⯑clined of us to keep ſuch ſelfiſh ſpirits as were then employed, within the bounds preſcribed. I ſhall now give a farther in⯑ſtance of it, and ſuch a pregnant one, as will convince the reader that ſuch a work as this could never be carried on fairly, and according to our promiſe, notwithſtanding all our care and precaution, even in the ſecond impreſſion of the work; how much leſs poſſible muſt it have been, to have done ſo in the firſt.

But there was ſtill a greater inconvenience reſulting from theſe repetitions, and the monſtrous bulk of the Roman hiſtory, and by that time the ſeventh volume was [316] finiſhed, the public began to think we de⯑ſigned to ſpin the work to nine or ten, for there were ſtill a great number of ancient kingdoms and countries to be deſcribed, ac⯑cording to our original deſign, ſuch as the Mohammedan hiſtory, and other nations interwoven with it, conſiſting of above twenty articles in Mr. Sale's plan, moſt of them of ſuch hard names as few readers were acquainted with, beſides the kingdoms of the great Mogul and other parts of India, thoſe of Siam, China, Japan, Tartary, Ruſſia both in Europe and Aſia, the Turkiſh empire in both, and the whole country of America; all which could hardly be contained in leſs than two volumes at the leaſt. However, by that time the ſeventh volume was publiſhed, the pro⯑prietors met with ſo little encouragement to go on from the purchaſers, and were al⯑ready ſuch conſiderable loſers, that they thought fit to ſtop there, and leave the work thus maimed and imperfect; but what not only determined, but in ſome meaſure forced them to it, was their having the mortification ſoon after, to ſee their property invaded by three different pyratical [317] bookſellers of Dublin, who, as they were not at any other charge than printing and paper, both which are much cheaper in Ireland than here, could well enough afford it to the public for half the price that ours ſold for at London, and unknown to each other reprinted the work there word for word, two of them in folio and the third in oc⯑tavo, and when each of them came to un⯑derſtand that the like pyracy had been committed by the other two, fell foul againſt each other in their advertiſements, in ſuch language and opprobrious names as all three juſtly deſerved. As therefore ſuch a piece of flagrant injuſtice could not but greatly affect the original proprietors, who were already ſo conſiderably loſers, it could not be expected that they ſhould run the manifeſt hazard of throwing away more money in purſuit of their plan. We were therefore obliged to frame an⯑other kind of excuſe for their dropping it, viz. that thoſe countries and kingdoms not ſpoken of in the foregoing volumes, being of later diſcovery, ſuch as India, China, &c. in Aſia, a great part of Africa, and the new American world, they would [318] be more properly deſcribed, and their hiſto⯑ries begun and continued in the modern part, which they were however no farther reſolved to go on with, than as they found a probability of its meeting more encour⯑agement than the old had hitherto done. So that they had now time to think on ſome proper means of ſuppreſſing the three pyrated impreſſions as far as poſſible, by expoſing them to the public as they juſtly deſerved, and propoſing to give the world a new and more correct edition of the whole in octavo, together with additions of ſuch material points as had been omitted in the former.

When this ſecond impreſſion came to be reſolved on, both the authors and proprie⯑tors, ſenſible of the many miſcarriages of the former, for want of our following our firſt plan, did unanimouſly agree among other things, that every one of us in the reviſing, correcting, and improving each our reſpective parts, ſhould oblige ourſelves, ſo far to ſtick cloſe to it for the future, that all the unneceſſary repetitions ſhould be reſcinded, and every historical fact be confined to the hiſtory of that country in [319] which it was tranſacted, and no where mentioned at length but there; as the con⯑queſt of Sicily in the hiſtory of that Iſland, of Carthage in that of the Republic, of the Spaniards, Gauls, &c. in that of thoſe nations, which was the only way of mak⯑ing every one of them compleat, and at the ſame time ſhorten the work, by the avoid⯑ing all needleſs repetitions. And this we not only promiſed, but bound ourſelves in writing to perform; however to make the point ſtill more ſure, as I had reaſon to doubt an unanimous compliance to the agreement from one quarter, I further pro⯑poſed that no part ſhould go to the preſs, till it had been examined and approved by the reſt. This was accordingly oppoſed by the party I ſuſpected under ſeveral ſpecious pretences, ſuch as taking up too much time, as we lived at ſome diſtance from each other, the danger of miſlaying or loſing ſome of the copy, and having now and then ſome alteration in controverted points, all which might retard if not hinder the work; upon which the proprietors thought fit to give it up, and to depend upon our honour for the exact performance of our [320] agreement. However, as he hath hardly in one ſingle inſtance kept up to it, but hath reprinted, not only his own Roman hiſtory, but ſeveral other parts done for⯑merly by other hands, and now com⯑mitted to his care by the bookſellers, almoſt verbatim from the firſt edition, to the no ſmall trouble of, and damage to the other authors who had filled up theſe un⯑neceſſary chaſms in their reſpective parts, which he ſhould have ſtruck out of his own, and have been ſince obliged to eraſe all thoſe additions; he hath ſufficiently convinced every one of us what his views were in ſo ſtrenuouſly oppoſing my propo⯑ſal, and conſequently how impoſſible it is for ſuch a deſign as this to be rightly ex⯑ecuted, unleſs the whole care and reviſal be left to one ſingle perſon of ability equal to it. The thing is now paſt all remedy with reſpect to this ſecond edition, though it may be eaſily rectified in every re⯑ſpect in a future one, if any ſuch may ever find encouragement. But the wrong done to the public in this ſecond, is the more conſiderable, through the unfairneſs of the author above mentioned, in as much as, [321] though he is the only one concerned, that hath not complied with our articles, he has by his ſubdulous artifice had the far greater ſhare in the work committed to him. And I think I have the greater right to complain of his breach of promiſe, and the diſcredit he hath brought on us and the work, as I can make it appear that neither in the firſt nor ſecond edition, I have ever departed from our original plan, in any of thoſe parts I have been engaged in, nor inſerted any thing in them except by way of promiſſum or reference, that properly belonged to an⯑other. And for the truth of this I ſhall only appeal to theſe parts, a liſt of which I ſhall, in juſtice to my own character, now give to the reader.

• 1. The Jewiſh hiſtory, from Abraham, to the Babyloniſh captivity.
• 2. The hiſtory of the Celtes and Scythians.
• 3. The ancient hiſtory of Greece, or the fabulous and heroic times.
• 4. The ſequel of the Jewiſh hiſtory, from the return from Babylon, to the deſtruction of Jeruſalem by Titus.
• 5. The hiſtory of the ancient Empires of Nice and Trebizon.
• [322] 6. The hiſtory of the ancient Spaniards.
• 7. Of the Gauls.
• 8. Of the ancient Germans.

In the ſecond edition, wherein we endea⯑voured to ſupply all the material omiſſions in the firſt, the following parts came to my ſhare, viz.

• 1. The ſequel of the Theban, and Corin⯑thian hiſtory.
• 2. The Retreat of Xenophon.
• 3. The continuation of the Jewiſh hiſtory, from the deſtruction of Jeruſalem by Titus, to this preſent time.

I muſt here obſerve with reſpect to the laſt of theſe, that it had been promiſed in our plan from the very beginning, but had been deferred, as more properly belonging to the modern hiſtory; upon which ſeveral of our ſubſcribers and correſpondents complained of the omiſſion, as it is a ſubject not only curious and inſtructive, but likewiſe little known, and therefore much wanted; upon which we had agreed to ſatisfy their de⯑mand, and to have inſerted it at the end of the ſecond part of the Jewiſh or the Roman hiſtory, and I had accordingly pre⯑pared it for the preſs againſt that time, and [323] beſtowed full ſix months in the writing of it, beſides what I had ſpent before in col⯑lecting ſuch curious materials as fell in my way; ſo that the copy, which will make about fifteen or ſixteen ſheets of the octavo edition, hath been a good while in the hands of the proprietors, and as I had reaſon to expect, would have been printed before now in the fifteenth or ſixteenth volume, of which I had appriſed ſeveral of my correſpondents, as well as thoſe of my acquaintance who enquired after it. But to my ſurpriſe, the proprietors have ſince de⯑termined to poſtpone it till the Modern Hiſtory comes out, as it brings the hiſtory of the Jewiſh nation down to the preſent time, which no other in the work doth, and can have no place in the Antient. But the real cauſe was the want of room, the work being like to ſwell beyond the number of volumes promiſed in their propoſals.

The truth is they being in ſome meaſure obliged to include it within the compaſs of twenty, or at moſt twenty-one volumes, in order to ſuppreſs the pyratical Iriſh edi⯑tion (which was promiſed to be contained [324] within that number, though without any probability (or perhaps deſign) of their ſo doing, if one may gueſs by the bulk of each of thoſe volumes that have been publiſhed) there was a neceſſity of reducing matters within a narrower com⯑paſs. And this upon a ſtrict computation might have been eaſily done, notwithſtand⯑ing the ſeveral additions that were to be made to the work, had all the needleſs repetitions been reſcinded, the ſtyle made more conciſe, and a great number of ſuper⯑fluous facts, circumſtances, diſquiſitions, and controverſies, moſt of them uſeleſs and incompatible with the nature of ſo ex⯑tenſive a work, been ſtruck out of both the text and notes, as we had agreed ſhould be done by every one in his reſpective parts, and hath been actually done by all but one, and him the perſon who had the largeſt ſhare in the reviſing and contracting of the work; ſo that through his neglect and noncompliance, the work hath ſwelled not only much beyond our computation, but would have done much more ſo, had not the proprietors from a laudable deſire of keeping up as much as could poſſibly [325] be done to the firſt propoſals, not only generouſly thrown in five or ſix ſheets ex⯑traordinary into every volume, but likewiſe enlarged every page both in the length and number of the lines, by which each volume from the fourth downwards, may be juſtly ſaid to contain between ſix or ſeven ſheets more of matter than was origi⯑nally propoſed, or than the third or fourth contained. And this I am bound to men⯑tion in juſtice to them, becauſe though they were conſiderable loſers by the firſt edition, they yet choſe to put themſelves to this extraordinary expence, rather than in⯑cur the charge of impoſing upon the public, by the unexpected addition of three or four volumes more than they had engaged to compriſe the whole work in. However, I cannot but be ſorry that theſe conſiderations ſhould be looked upon as a ſufficinet pretext for their ſuppreſſing that ſequel of the Jewiſh hiſtory I have been ſpeaking of, contrary to the original plan of the work, and the expectation of ſo many of its en⯑couragers. And I do purpoſely take notice of it, that in caſe I can not prevail upon them to print it at the end of the work, [326] and leave it at the option of ſubſcribers, either to buy or leave it, the public may know where the fault lies, and that my friends may not lay it at my door.

Thus much may ſuffice for the hiſtory of this work, and to account for the great imperfections of the firſt edition, and for the ſecond not turning out better than it hath; and I doubt not, when the reader conſiders all theſe things he will be apt rather to wonder, as I have often done, that it is come out ſo well as it is. I have no intention, much leſs any cauſe to reflect on the proprietors of the work, eſpecially thoſe who are become ſo ſince the deaths or failure of moſt of the old ones. They have ſpared neither pains nor coſt towards its improve⯑ment, nor been wanting in generoſity to the authors. They never once diſputed with me about the price I ſet upon my la⯑bour, nor refuſed to ſupply me with ſuch ſums as I drew upon them for. This is indeed more than I can or ought to ſay of the old ſet of them, ſome of whom often put us to great difficulties by their ſordidneſs and mutual jealouſies and miſunderſtandings, all which I with pleaſure obſerved to vaniſh [327] upon the coming in of this new ſet. It is true that as far as related to me, they always found me diligent and punctual; I performed the parts I undertook to the beſt of my abi⯑lity, and being content with a moderate gain, could beſtow the more time and labour upon them, and always took care to have them finiſhed at the time required; and ſo wholly, and I may add cordially, was I in⯑tent upon the work in general, that I would never engage in any other whilſt that laſted. And this they were ſo far ſatisfied of, and ſo entirely relied on me, that whether in town or country, I have been allowed to drawn upon Mr. Millar, for ſome ſcores of pounds before hand, which were punctu⯑ally anſwered by him, though neither he nor any of the partners, ever ſaw any of my copy till it went to the preſs; and when printed off paid the ſurplus with uncom⯑mon generoſity, for I always took care to keep within compaſs. This may look like vanity for me to ſay of myſelf, but as it will not be made public till after my death, when I ſhall be out of the way of reaping any ſatifaction from it, but the conſciouſ⯑neſs of having acted an honeſt part; and [328] as this hath been my conſtant method with all the bookſellers with whom I have been concerned, and for this I dare appeal to all who have employed me, I am the leſs ſcru⯑pulous about any ſiniſter conſtruction a cenſorious reader may put upon it; thoſe who have known me and my converſation for much above theſe twenty years, will I hope paſs a more candid judgment upon it.

However, with reſpect to the management of the partners about this ſecond edition, I cannot but obſerve that they were guilty of two fatal errors. The firſt in com⯑mitting ſo great a ſhare of the work, as well as the reviſal of the whole to a man, who they had all reaſon to believe aimed chiefly at gain and diſpatch, and to agree with him by the lump as they did, which would only prove a temptation to him to hurry it off as faſt as he could, and as he accordingly did, to their no ſmall mortifica⯑tion, as well as hurt to themſelves and the work. I might add, that as he was and owned himſelf quite unacquainted with the eaſtern languages, he was the moſt unqualified for ſeveral parts that fell to [329] his lot of any and if care had not been taken would have committed ſuch miſtakes in the very ſpelling of pro⯑per names, as would quite have diſ⯑credited it.

The other was their engaging to publiſh a volume monthly, and beginning to pub⯑liſh before they had a ſufficient number ready printed before hand, to have enabled them to keep up to their time; the want of which precaution hath ſince obliged them to have ſeveral volumes on the anvill at different preſſes at once, and to be diſ⯑patched with ſuch precipitation that the compoſitors have overlooked many litteral errors which had been corrected by the authors, and which is ſtill worſe, this hath likewiſe made it impoſſible for us to make the proper and neceſſary references from one volume to the other as they were printed at the ſame time, and not regularly one after another, as they ſhould have done, ſo that in ſome caſes we could hardly refer to the volume much leſs to the page; but the reader will find many inſtances of this laſt.

[330]I ſhall now give ſome few uſeful hints how this work may be made compleat in a future edition by one ſingle hand, if equal to the taſk; firſt, let whoever under⯑takes it read it all over again attentively and regularly, one volume after another, and as he reads, common-place every thing, perſon, fact, &c. as if he deſigned it for a compleat and copious index. Let him not depend upon that general one which is ready made to his hand, at the end of the work, and where all theſe needleſs repeti⯑tions, inconſiſtences, and contradictions may be artfully omitted or concealed, but either make a full and exact one de novo, or at leaſt conſult the printed one upon every point he reads over, and mark down every ſuch omiſſion or concealment; though were it my caſe I ſhould rather prefer the former, becauſe there will be the leſs labour loſt, as it will ſtand ready for ſuch when the work comes to be reprinted, and he will have afterwards nothing to do but add the printed pages to every article as they come in courſe, only if it ſhould be deemed too full, he may ſtrike out afterwards ſuch as ap⯑pear of leſs moment. But he will find [331] this ſingular benefit by ſuch an exact com⯑mon-placing of every thing, that it will diſcover to him at once every needleſs re⯑petition, every inconſiſtency and contra⯑diction as he reads on, which he may at the ſame time mark down in the margin of the book, in order to correct them on the ſecond reading. He may then ſet down likewiſe in the margin, the volume and page where the ſame thing is told be⯑fore, where it is differently related or ſet in a different light, and in caſes that admit a diſpute, by conſulting the original au⯑thors, be able to judge which is right or moſt probable. Thus for inſtance, when he finds the very ſame facts related in the hiſtories of Sicily, Rome and Carthage, he will eaſily know where they ought to have been ſet down at length, namely, where the ſcene of action happened, and where only to be referred to it, viz. in the other two. So that whatever either the Romans or Carthaginians tranſacted in Sicily, ſhould be only promiſed or referred to in their hiſtory, and only related at full length in that of the Sicilians; and ſo of the reſt. He will likewiſe by ſuch an index find [332] out where any facts or tranſactions have been differently related or repreſented by each of their writers, who muſt of courſe be ſuppoſed, and will upon trial be found to claſh often, for want of frequently con⯑ferring with each other, or duly conſult⯑ing and examining, or perhaps ſome times of rightly underſtanding the original authors they pretend to follow.

By this means he will likewiſe be able to diſcover many facts related in one place, which more properly belong to, or might be more conveniently transferred to an⯑other, and place them ſo accordingly in his marginal notes. By that time he hath common-placed the whole ſet of volumes, he will be likewiſe able to diſcover every material omiſſion under every article, either from his own memory and reading, or by turning to the index of ſuch books as treat of the ſame ſubject, and be able to ſupply every ſuch defect from them. Thus in the articles of nations, as Jews, Egyptians, Romans, &c. or of cities, as Jeruſalem, Alexandria, Rome, &c. if he finds any thing material, which not being in his common-place book, makes him conclude [333] it was omitted in the work, he will like⯑wiſe eaſily ſupply from thoſe authors and their indexes, and the ſame may be done by the articles of names of kingdoms, provinces, monarchs, &c. by furniſhing himſelf with the beſt modern authors who have wrote of them, and ſupplying each with every thing he finds wanting in his own common-place book, as well as ex⯑change ſome leſs material trifles that are in this, for more momentous ones he will find in them, all which may be done with little trouble, and he will ſtill reſerve to himſelf the liberty of the difference in con⯑troverted points he will meet with among thoſe moderns, by having recouſe to the original ones; for he muſt make it a ſtand⯑ing rule to himſelf, not to rely on the for⯑mer which are more copious than exact, without conſulting the latter, and where thoſe differ among themſelves as they often do, to uſe all proper helps either to recon⯑cile them, or to chuſe the more probable ſide.

This would have been the method I ſhould have taken, had I had any ſhare in the reviſing any other but my own particu⯑lar [334] parts in the work; tho' I muſt ſtill have thought it too much for any one to have reviſed the whole, and ſhould have thought it neceſſary to have imparted the above mentioned rules to the reſt, in order to have enabled them to have rectified every miſtake, contraſt, and jarring, between their parts. For as I knew that all the hopes of the proprietors, was in a ſecond, and more correct edition, to reimburſe the loſſes they had ſuſtained by the firſt; I had their con⯑ſent to compoſe the index to each of the volumes, (the firſt excepted, which was done by the ſame hand that wrote the Roman hiſtory, and juſtly condemned for its unneceſſary length and verboſity) by which I could obſerve as I read along, and marked in the margin of the leaves, every needleſs repetition, ſuperfluity, contrariety, omiſſion, tranſpoſition, &c. that would be neceſſary to make the next impreſſion more compleat, eſpecially when I came to make the general one to the whole; and was the better inabled by it, to reſcind and alter what I found amiſs or ſuperfluous in thoſe parts that came more immediately under my care, though I have had ſince [335] reaſon to think I have gone too far in it, and out of complaiſance to the proprietors, who complained that my Jewiſh hiſtory was too diffuſe for a work of this nature, have been prevailed on to ſtrike out in this ſecond edition many curious things, which I have ſince found had been very well liked and approved of in the firſt. But without ſuch reſciſions it was impoſ⯑ble to bring the whole within the com⯑paſs propoſed, eſpecially as they were ſo much neglected in ſeveral other parts of the work, which would at leaſt as conve⯑niently admit of them, ſuch as the Dyna⯑ſtes of the Egyptians, the hiſtory of Perſia from the oriental writers, and many other ſuch fabulous abſurdities. However, I can⯑not accuſe myſelf of having ſuppreſſed any thing that was of moment in that hiſtory; though ſeveral perhaps, and to my no ſmall regret, which would have been acceptable to the curious in that kind of learning. As for all the other parts within my province, I have rather enlarged and improved them with new proofs, obſervations and curious additions, as may be eaſily found by com⯑paring the two editions together.

[336]With relation to the deſiderata in both editions, I cannot forbear taking notice that the ancient hiſtory of the northern nations, ſuch as Moſcovy, Poland, Sweden, Den⯑mark, Norway, &c. hath been altogether omitted except ſome few hints that have been given in that of the Scythians and Celtes, intimating only that the former were originally deſcended from the latter. It is indeed commonly believed that theſe remote nations have no records of their ancient times, but I had a ſingular oppor⯑tunity of being convinced of the contrary, by a learned gentleman who was a pro⯑feſſor of hiſtory, &c. in the univerſity of Abbo in Norway, but came to London moſtly every ſummer as an agent from the king of Sweden, and among other new books, uſed to buy ſeveral ſetts of the Uni⯑verſal Hiſtory for that Prince, for count Coningſegg, and other great perſons in that kingdom. This gentleman having ex⯑preſſed a deſire to Mr. Symons his book⯑ſeller, and one of the proprietors, of con⯑verſing with one of the authors, particu⯑larly with that of the Jewiſh hiſtory, we ſoon came acquainted together, and upon [337] my enquiring of him after ſuch records or monuments of thoſe northern nations on which one might compile their ancient hiſ⯑tory, gave me ſuch a ſatisfactory account, as made me perſuade Mr. Symon, and the other partners, to engage him to undertake it, which he, with ſome difficulty, agreed to do, notwithſtanding his other avocations. I had the pleaſure of ſeeing him every time he came to London, and to hear how well he proceeded in the work; and accordingly in about three years he brought a large and elaborate account of all the northern nations and countries, their origin, ancient ſettlements, hiſtory, &c. with many curious obſervations on their geogra⯑phy, natural hiſtory, and the whole backed with ſuch good authorities and proofs, as one would hardly have expected from ſuch barren climes, and was recommended by ſeveral of the moſt learned men in Swe⯑den and Norway, who had the peruſal, or even contributed to ſome part or other of it.

This chapter, which, according to our ori⯑ginal plan, was to have preceded the ir⯑ruption of the Huns, Goths, Vandals, Suevi [338] and into the ſouthern parts of Europe, would have given a much better and clearer account of theſe barbarous nations, than that which hath been given in the hiſtory of their new ſettlements in Hungary, Italy, France, Spain, &c. The misfortune was, that it proved too bulky (though no⯑thing could be ſaid to be ſuperfluous or impertinent in it) it being computed to amount to above ſeventy folio ſheets, for which they could not find room, our work being already ſwolen vaſtly beyond its bulk; ſo that Dr. Sidenius, that was the learned author's name, had the mortification of having that curious part refuſed by the proprietors, and returned upon his hands, the old ones, as Meſs. Symon and Batley, being dead, and the reſt, except Mr. Oſ⯑borne in Grays-Inn, being gone off, and the new ones not looking upon themſelves concerned in the agreement. And this I mention with no ſmall regret, becauſe it was a conſiderable loſs to the learned world, as well as to the author, and ſuch as I much fear will hardly be ever recovered.

In the interval between the concluſion of the firſt, and the reſolution of printing the [339] ſecond, I was invited into a ſhare of the new Syſtem of Geography, in which though the Public found juſt fault with the extra⯑vagant length of that which related to Great Britain and Ireland, I yet found the authors concerned in it, ſo well qualified for the work, ſo communicative and punc⯑tual in their regular meetings once a fort⯑night, that I readily came into it, and found with pleaſure the work carried on with more unanimity, exactneſs, and to the ſatiſ⯑faction of the proprietors, as well as of the public. The parts I did in that work were thoſe that follow. 1. Spain, Portugal and the iſlands belonging to them. 2. Italy, Savoy, Piedmont, and the iſlands of Sicily, Sardinia, Corſica, &c. 3. Muſcovy both in Europe and Aſia. 4. Turky in Aſia. 5. In Aſia, China, Japan, Jetzo, and the iſlands along thoſe coaſts, particularly that of Formoſa, which part I choſe, that I might take occaſion publickly to acknow⯑ledge, as it were by a third hand, the falſ⯑hood and impoſture of my former account of that iſland. 6. In Africa, the king⯑doms of Egypt, Abyſſinia, Lybia, Barbary, Tripoli, Tunis, Morocco, Fez, with an [340] account of the Mediterranean Sea, and the famed river of Sanaga. 7. The Azores iſlands. 8. In America, the countries of Braſil, Magellan, Terra del Fuego, Canada, Louiſiana, and the Bahamas and Bermudas iſlands. And by the time I had concluded theſe laſt, I was called upon to prepare my reſpective parts of the Univerſal Hiſtory, for the ſecond impreſſion mentioned above. I have however found ſufficient reaſon to complain of the wrong management of this work in ſeveral reſpects, though other⯑wiſe carried on with greater exactneſs and unanimity than that of the Univerſal Hiſ⯑tory, and I ſhall now take the liberty of mentioning ſome of the moſt conſiderable ones, becauſe they have been the cauſe of ſome unavoidable errors and blunders, not only in the two above mentioned works, but in moſt others that have been publiſhed in the ſame or near the ſame way. The firſt is the authors being tied to produce ſuch a number of ſheets in ſo ſhort a time as is almoſt incompatible with their deſire, if any ſuch they have, of performing their reſpective parts with any exactneſs; for, though the publiſhers ſeldom fail of ac⯑quainting [341] the public that the work is either already, or pretty near finiſhed and ready for the preſs, ſo that there is no danger of its meeting with any delay or impediment, yet that is ſeldom if ever the caſe, and with reſpect to the works I am ſpeaking of, I found it quite the reverſe, and that they have frequently been ſent to the preſs, under the promiſe of being regularly pub⯑liſhed, by ſuch a number of ſheets every week or month, when ſcarcely a fourth part of it was written. So that, to prevent the retard⯑ing of the work, they have been obliged to call in for new helps, whom they have obliged to engage to perform their part in leſs than half the time, that it would have reaſonably required; conſidering that they not only had it all to begin and go through in that ſhort ſpace, as was the caſe in this new Syſtem of Geography, but that ſome of them were likewiſe engaged in ſome other work, between which and this, they were forced to divide their time and diligence, though either of them did more than re⯑quire it all; and how could it be poſſible for either to be performed as it ought?

[342]Another miſmanagement from the be⯑ginning was, the interlarding every fourth or fifth number with a ſet of maps which indeed gave ſome breathing time to the authors, but then it confined them to re⯑ceive all their directions concerning the limits, ſituation, longitude, latitude, diſ⯑tances, &c. from thoſe maps, which being ſuch as the engraver rather than the au⯑thors had made choice of, as the moſt au⯑thentic in his opinion, were not always ſo judiciouſly choſen as could have been wiſhed. This made many errors remedi⯑leſs and irretrievable, becauſe the greateſt part of thoſe maps had been publiſhed in ſuch numbers, ſeveral months before the authors were called upon to begin the geography of thoſe countries. This I often complained of to the proprietors from the beginning, both as a great over⯑ſight and a hardſhip upon the authors, who, inſtead of being allowed to direct the en⯑graver in the choice or compiling of them, were obliged to follow him implicitly, and often contrary to their own opinion and liking, in thoſe which he had thought fit to pitch upon for our guide. Thus in the [343] map of Japan, for inſtance, the land of Jetzo is affirmed to be the ſame with Cum⯑ſchatta, though contrary to fact, it not being ſo much as part of it. I might add likewiſe, that thoſe maps confined us to the orthography of places, though very often erroneous, or being of foreign extract, con⯑veyed a wrong ſound of the name to an Engliſh ear.

But the moſt conſiderable miſmanagement was in the choice of ſuch printers as bore indeed the greateſt ſway and intereſt, and who conſequently had ſuch a glut of buſi⯑neſs, that every thing was diſpatched with the utmoſt hurry and precipitation, in order to keep up to their time. This never failed cauſing a great deal of confuſion and in⯑correctneſs in the printing, particularly in the othography of proper names, and giv⯑ing the authors a great deal of trouble in correcting the proofs, which, however, was but too often of no ſervice, through the hurry the compoſitors were in, which made them overlook and often neglect thoſe cor⯑rections. It frequently happened likewiſe, that they required ſuch a quick diſpatch of the author, in correcting the ſheets, that [344] they had not time enough to read them over with that carefulneſs they would otherwiſe have done; ſo that they them⯑ſelves could not avoid overlooking even ſome material errors in the ſpelling, but moſt chiefly in the numbers and figures. As for me, it being my conſtant rule not to be engaged in two works at once, I never would let a proof go out of my hands, without a ſecond, and, in ſome caſes, a third reading, but I have often found that I might as well have ſaved myſelf that labour, ſince the correctors or compoſitors had not time enough left to make the pro⯑per emendations, and ſometimes have ſent the ſheet to the preſs before the proof hath been returned.

To prevent this unfair dealing, as I may juſtly call it, or at leaſt to lay the blame at the right door, I had taken a method of inſiſting upon having two proofs, of each ſheet, ſent me from the preſs; under pre⯑tence of keeping one of them by me, to refer to when it was requiſite, but in fact by correcting both proofs alike in the mar⯑gin, to be able to produce that which I kept by me, againſt both the compoſitor, [345] and corrector, when ever they were guilty of any ſuch neglect. But as ſoon as my deſign was found out by them, ſome plau⯑ſible excuſes were made, for not continu⯑ing to ſend duplicates, and I was forced to give up that point, unleſs I had a mind to diſoblige the very maſter printers, who were ſome of the richeſt, and bore the greateſt ſway with the proprietors, and had already deprived us, under the pretence of diſpatch, of the privelege of reviſing our copy, after our firſt correction. This laſt indeed was denied us, on account of the unreaſonable trouble, which one of the authors too frequently gave them, in thoſe reviſes at the firſt ſetting out? who did often require three or four of them, and every one loaded with new, and moſtly needleſs alterations, which took up ſo much of the compoſitors time that they were obliged to complain of it. This was, though true with reſpect to one author, but a poor pretence for depriving the reſt of the liberty of one ſingle reviſe, which they chiefly inſiſted on, not ſo much to make any neceſſary alterations, as only to be ſatisfied that none of their corrections were [346] overlooked. However, the point was over⯑ruled by the printers; and that material check being taken off from the compoſitors, the literal errors multiplied ſo faſt upon us, eſpecially in the words and quotations out of the eaſtern languages, that we were obliged to take notice only of ſuch as were of the greateſt moment in the table of errata of the firſt edition, and to curtail as many of thoſe foreign words as we could in the ſecond, eſpecially thoſe of the Arabic, Hebrew, and Syriac kind.

Theſe are ſome of the principal cauſes of that incorrectneſs which commonly, I had almoſt ſaid unavoidably, happen in theſe kinds of works, let an author be ever ſo deſirous and careful to avoid them, unleſs he hath ſo great a ſway over the printers, that they dare not refuſe him the liberty of reviſing his own work as often as he ſees it needful. And the leaſt that he can inſiſt on, for his own credit and ſatisfaction, is a reviſal of every proof after it hath been corrected by him.

I did take occaſion to mention a little higher the wrong information which Mr. Palmer gave me concerning Biſhop Hare's Metrical [347] Pſalter, which was, unknown to me, put into Mr. Bowyer's hands to print, whilſt I was writing the firſt part of the Jewiſh hiſtory, and as there had elapſed ſeveral years be⯑tween the time, in which Mr. Palmer was applied to by Dr. Waſhburn, and that of my becoming in courſe to write on the ſub⯑ject of the Hebrew poetry, which had confirmed me in the opinion that the biſhop's deſign was quite ſet aſide; I made no difficulty to affirm after the generality of the learned writers on that ſubject, that the metre of the Hebrew Pſalms and other poetical pieces in the Old Teſtament, was looked upon as irretrievably loſt, notwithſtanding the efforts of ſome, and the pretences of others, who vainly imagined they had or were in the way of recovering it. I backed my opinion with ſome new arguments which had occurred to me during my fruit⯑leſs ſearch after it, and which appeared to me to carry no ſmall force. This part, which was contained in the ninth number of the firſt volume, was ſcarcely publiſhed, before the biſhop's Pſalter came out. It may be eaſily imagined that my curioſity would not permit me to be long without [348] examining that performance, which ſeemed to overthrow all that I had ſaid on that ſub⯑ject, and ſadly was I vexed that my part was publiſhed before I had ſeen this un⯑expected piece. Had I dreamed of any ſuch being ſo near coming out, I would doubtleſs have ſuppreſſed mine till I had thereby examined it. What ſurpriſed me moſt, and made me entertain ſome higher notion of that enterprize, was the long inter⯑val which had paſſed between the time of its being finiſhed and offered to Mr. Pal⯑mer, and that of its being publiſhed, which I reckon to have been about ſix or ſeven years, and which I therefore ſuppoſed the biſhop and his learned friend Dr. W—, had ſpent in the reviſing and poliſhing it; but, upon ſtricter enquiry, I found the cauſe of that delay to have been of a different nature, and was as follows.

His lordſhip had excepted againſt Mr. Pal⯑mer's Hebrew types, which were of Athias's font, and a little battered, and in⯑ſiſted upon his having a new ſett from Mr. Caſlon, which greatly exceeded it in beauty. But Mr. Palmer was ſo deep in debt to him, that he knew not well how to [349] procure it from him without ready money, which he was not able to ſpare. The biſhop likewiſe inſiſted upon having ſome Roman and Italic types caſt with ſome diſtinguiſhing mark, to direct his readers to the Hebrew letters they were deſigned to anſwer, and theſe required a new ſett of punches and matrices before they could be caſt, and that would have delayed the work, which Mr. Palmer was in haſte to go about, that he might the ſooner finger ſome of his lordſhip's money. This put him upon ſuch an unfair ſtratagem, which when diſcovered, quite diſguſted his lordſhip againſt him, viz. repreſenting Mr. Caſlon as an idle, dilatory work⯑man, who would in all probability make them wait ſeveral years for thoſe few types, if ever he finiſhed them. That he was in⯑deed the only artiſt that could ſupply him with thoſe types, but that he hated work, and was not to be depended upon, and therefore adviſed his lordſhip to make ſhift with ſome ſort which he could ſubſti⯑tute; and would anſwer the ſame purpoſe, rather than run the riſk of ſtaying ſo long, and being perhaps diſappointed. The [350] biſhop, however, being reſolved, if poſſible, to have the deſired types, ſent for Mr. Bowyer, and aſked him whether he knew a letter founder that could caſt him ſuch a ſett out of hand, who immediately recom⯑mended Mr. Caſlon; and, being told what a ſad and diſadvantageous character he had heard of him, Mr. Bowyer not only aſſured his lordſhip that it was a very falſe and un⯑juſt one, and engaged to get the above-mentioned types caſt by him, and a new font of his Hebrew ones, in as ſhort a time as the thing could poſſibly be done. Mr. Caſlon was accordingly ſent for by his lordſhip, and having made him ſenſible of the time the new ones would require to be made ready for uſe, did pro⯑duce them according to his promiſe, and the book was ſoon after put to the preſs; and this it was that had ſo long retarded its publication.

I was not long without it, and muſt own that his preface, in which his lordſhip con⯑futed, with uncommon learning and keeneſs, all the ſyſtems that hitherto appeared in public, raiſed my expectation to a high de⯑gree. For if the metre of the ſacred book [351] could but be ſuppoſed to come up to the loftineſs and dignity of the thoughts and expreſſions, (and who could ever have doubted of it, that conſiders how much greater genius the latter requires than the former?) it muſt I thought have greatly ex⯑celled that of Homer and Virgil. But how great was my ſurpriſe, when upon reading on I found that his lordſhip had reduced it to a poor low, crawling humdrum, bitony of trochaics and iambics, or vice verſa as the reader pleaſed, and into which he might with eaſe, and with much leſs than half the variations, maiming and diſ⯑tortion of the text, have reduced any com⯑mon proſe out of any language! How much more ſtill to find in almoſt every line, words, and ſometimes whole verſes mutilated, ſtretched out or lopped off, tranſpoſed or exchanged ad libitum, in order to bring them to his ill contrived ſtandard! To hear a learned prelate, with all the ſeeming gravity imaginable, affirm that the Hebrew poetry, (which by the way was arrived to ſuch prodigious heights, with reſpect to the grandeur and loftineſs of its figures and imagery, even ſo early as [352] Moſe's time) was even ſo low as in David's time, ſo crude, imperfect and vague, as not to have ſo much as a determinate dif⯑ference between long and ſhort ſyllables, eſpecially conſidering to what a heighth of perfection that monarch had improved the art of muſic; and, what is ſtill more ſur⯑priſing than all the reſt, to ſee his lordſhip, in conſequence of this his low conceit of the Hebrew poetry, take ſuch pains to marr, deface, and deſtroy ſome of the moſt ſur⯑priſing, lofty and complicated figures and alluſions in that ſacred book, and ſuch as far excel all that is to be met with in the Greek and Latin poets. But for theſe I muſt refer the reader to what I have ob⯑ſerved of the Hebrew poetry, and on that abſurd performance, in the Univerſal Hiſtory (ſee vol. iv. of folio edition p. 710 & ſeq. and notes, and in the octavo one, vol. x. p. 202 & ſeq. and note (E). The occaſion of my being obliged to make thoſe animadverſions on it, was as follows.

I was ſo ſhocked at the freedom which that prelate took to depreciate, muti⯑late and vilify ſo ſublime a ſet of the nobleſt and moſt divine poems, that I [353] thought myſelf obliged to write againſt him, and to expoſe, as they deſerved, all his unfair criticiſms on it, all his forced emendations, and, above all, the abſurdity of his new-diſcovered metre; but withal, in ſuch a reſpectful manner, as was due to a perſon of his character. And in order to that, retired for three months into Surry and Hampſhire, where I had an op⯑portunity to conſult, upon proper occaſions, ſome of my friends, who were no ſtran⯑gers to that kind of learning. I found the taſk the leſs difficult, as I preſently fell in among ſome of them, who not only condemned his performance, but had raiſed already ſome very material objections againſt it, which they readily communi⯑cated to me as ſoon as they were appriſed of my deſign. One of them among the reſt had (by way of expoſing his lord⯑ſhip's contemptible metre) reduced the Engliſh Lord's Prayer, Creed, Ten Com⯑mandments, and the Te Deum, into the ſame crawling meaſure; whilſt I, who wholly confined myſelf to the Hebrew, had already done the ſame by the firſt chapter of Geneſis, and the laſt chapter of [354] Malachi, both which I had likewiſe turned into the ſame dull verſe, without half the deviations from the text, which his lordſhip had been forced to make in al⯑moſt every Pſalm. Some of his very pretended emendations proved ſuch, that the frequency of them directed me to the diſcovery of a more elegant metre than he had ever dreamed of, and which con⯑vinced me, as they have ſince many more Hebraiſts, that there was in the metre of the Pſalms, not only a real and ſettled diſtinction between the long and the ſhort ſyllables, but that two of the latter were equivalent, in the conſtituting of a foot or verſe, to one of the former; ſo that they had at leaſt three different kinds of feet, viz. long monoſyllables, biſyl⯑lables, conſiſting of two long, and triſylla⯑bles, conſiſting of two ſhort and one long, or vice verſa; but which in the metre an⯑ſwered to a ſpondee, or two long ſyllables. Of this I gave ſo many inſtances, as made me think, contrary to what I had done till then, that the Hebrew metre was not ſo irrecoverably loſt as I had imagined, and that a little more application than I [355] had time then, or have had ſince to beſtow upon it, might go near to recover moſt, if not all, the various kinds of it.

However, as ſoon as I had finiſhed what I, and ſome of my friends as well as I, thought a ſufficient confutation of the biſhop's performance, and in the ſame, tho' not ſo florid and elegant a Latin, I ſent to deſire one of my bookſellers to enquire of Mr. Bowyer, whether the new types, caſt for his lordſhip, were ſtill in his poſ⯑ſeſſion? and whether I might be permitted the uſe of them, in the anſwer I had pre⯑pared for the preſs? I was anſwered in the affirmative; but one bookſeller took it into his head to aſk at the ſame time, what number of copies his lordſhip had cauſed to be printed of his Pſalter? and was an⯑ſwered only five hundred; one half of which had been preſented by his Lordſhip to his learned friends, both in and out of England, and moſt of the reſt were ſtill unſold, there being but few among the learned, that were curious in ſuch matters; the performance having been diſapproved by all that had ſeen it. This news ſo cooled the bookſellers eagerneſs after my anſwer, [356] that, upon my coming to town, and their acquainting me with the ſtate of the caſe, I was quite diſcouraged from printing it. For they concluded from what Mr. Bowyer had ſaid, that it would be dangerous to print above three hundred of mine, the charge of which being deducted, the profit, upon a ſuppoſition that they were all ſold, would be ſo ſmall, that they could not af⯑ford me above two or three guineas for my copy (which would have made about ſeven or eight ſheets of a middling octavo) with⯑out being loſers. This was their way of computing the matter, againſt which hav⯑ing nothing to object, I locked up the pa⯑pers in my cabinet, where they have lain ever ſince. They did indeed offer me better terms, and to print a greater number of copies, if I would be at the trouble of print⯑ing it in Engliſh, which they thought would be more univerſally read, out of diſlike to the biſhop; but, beſides that I cared not to be at the pains of Engliſhing it, I thought it below the ſubject to print it in any other language, but that in which his was wrote, and ſo wholly declined it.

I lodged then with the curate of the [357] pariſh^*, who, upon my coming from Hampſhire, told me the following ſtory, which I give on his authority, for I never enquired farther into it—That his rector, the reverend Dr. Nichols, acquaint⯑ed the biſhop, that he had a gentleman in his pariſh, who deſigned ſhortly to publiſh a confutation of his Hebrew metre. The biſhop aſked whether he was equal to the taſk? and was anſwered, that he was thought ſo by all that knew him, and that he was the perſon who had wrote the Jewiſh hiſtory, wherein he had given a greater character of the He⯑brew poetry than his lordſhip ſeemed to do in his book, and that he was one of the perſons concerned in the writing of the Univerſal Hiſtory. The biſhop then aſked his name, and being told that he called himſelf Pſalmanazar, expreſſed himſelf with ſome warmth to the company, that there was never a Jew of them all that underſtood any thing of Hebrew, much leſs of the ſacred poetry; and being told that I was no Jew, but in all appearance an honeſt and ſtrict churchman, who would doubtleſs uſe his lordſhip with the reſpect due to [358] his character; he appeared a little better ſa⯑tiſfied, and willing to ſuſpend his judgment, till he ſaw what I had to ſay againſt him.

And here I cannot forbear making an ob⯑ſervation, or two, on his lordſhip's ſpeech, taking the ſtory for true, which I am the more inclined to believe to be ſo, becauſe he was always known to have a ſingular contempt of the Jews, ſo far as related to their knowledge of the Hebrew tongue. The one is, that his mean opinion of them muſt be owing to his ſmall acquaintance with them; otherwiſe he might have found in London ſeveral of them very learned in that tongue, (beſides a much greater num⯑ber abroad, eſpecially among the northern ones) and who, bating their different interpretations of thoſe main prophecies which relate to the Meſſiah, could have diſplayed to him a much greater and deeper ſkill in that ſacred tongue, than he appears to have had, by any thing one can find in his book. The other is, how his lordſhip came to take Salmanazar for a Jewiſh, inſtead of an Aſſyrian name; for as the monarch ſo called, was one of thoſe monarchs who carried away part of Iſrael [359] captives into Aſſyria; a Jew would as ſoon call a ſon of his Beelzebub, as Salmanazar, or Nabuchadnezzar.

However, the abovementioned ſtory, as well as the expectation which my friends in Hampſhire, Surry, and London, were in, to ſee my anſwer to him, gave me no ſmall regret, leſt my not publiſhing it ſhould be interpreted in favour of his per⯑formance, or as my yielding the point to him, as not being able to confute him. And could I have afforded it, I would have run the hazard of printing it at my own charge; for I was above doing it by ſub⯑ſcription, it being ſo ſmall a thing as a pamphlet of at moſt eight octavo ſheets; and much more loth was I, all the above things conſidered, to let a work ſeemingly calculated to depreciate the excellence of the ſacred poetry of the Old Teſtament, to go uncenſured; eſpecially as I had ſo many ſtrong objections ready levelled againſt it. At length a thought came into my mind, as I was then preparing new materials for the ſecond part of the Jewiſh hiſtory, to reſume that ſubject there. And this I thought, I was ſo much better intitled to [360] do, if it were but in defence of what I had ſaid in the firſt part in praiſe of the Hebrew poetry, and which was, in moſt caſes, quite oppoſite to the character, which his lordſhip gave of it in his book. The collecting, and compleating of the canon of the ſacred books by Ezra, and other inſpired writers, and their appointing of the proper leſſons, pſalms, &c. for the divine worſhip, gave me a fair opportunity for it, which I was the more ready to take, as I knew that it would be read by many more people in ſuch a work as that, than in a Latin pamphlet, and would of courſe more effectually expoſe the abſurdity of his pretended new-found metre, as well as the unſeemly freedom he hath given himſelf in altering and mutilating the ſacred text for the ſake of it. I therefore reſolved to take notice, in juſtice to his lordſhip, of all juſt, laudable, and uſeful diſcoveries he had made on that ſubject in the text, and to throw the main part of my objections againſt the reſt of his book in a long note, in the moſt ſuccinct and impartial manner I could, in hopes that the ſetting both forth, as it were, in one view, might probably [361] excite ſome who had more learning and leiſure than I, to follow the hints there given, as the moſt likely means for compleating the deſired diſcovery, to which his lordſhip had in a great meaſure opened the way, though he had ſo unhappily miſcarried in the end. The difficulty was how to con⯑tract my materials ſo as not to over-ſwell that part of the work, as it muſt have done if I had brought every thing into it, which I had wrote on that ſubject, and this obliged me to ſtrike off near two thirds of them, and to confine myſelf to the moſt material points, ſuch as would moſt effectually an⯑ſwer the two main ends I had in view, viz. the exploding the biſhop's new metre, and giving the curious reader, that would go about it, a clue to find out the original one of the ſacred books; for as to what I deſigned to have ſaid in praiſe of the Hebrew poetry, had the ſubject been printed ſeparately, it was the leſs neceſſary here, as I had already expatiated ſo much upon it in the firſt volume. Some of the pro⯑prietors and authors were indeed againſt my deſign, not only as it would ſwell the chapter beyond its length, but likewiſe as [362] the ſubject in queſtion appeared to them, foreign to the reſt of its contents; but I had the pleaſure not only to carry my point againſt them, but likewiſe to have the performance commended by ſeveral learned men as well as by all my friends; inſomuch that upon my conſult⯑ing ſeveral of them, whether I might not in the ſecond or octavo edition (in which we were obliged to contract our materials, in order to reduce the whole within the propoſed limits) either wholly omit or content myſelf with a ſhort men⯑tion of what I had done more at large in the folio; they adviſed me by no means to curtail the main ſubject, though I might, they thought, eraze here and there an ex⯑planatory or critical note, which I readily complied with.

Soon after I had concluded my laſt part of the Ancient Hiſtory, the proprietors and authors had ſome meetings together to conſult upon the going on with the Mo⯑dern, and ſeveral plans were propoſed by different perſons of learning and capacity. The misfortune was, that this part likewiſe was to be confined within the compaſs of [363] twenty volumes, of the ſame bulk with the Ancient, and theſe gentlemen differed ſo much in the proportion they allowed to each reſpective country or kingdom, that we could ſee but little likelihood of mak⯑ing any tolerable computation, either of what the whole might reaſonably amount to, or of what number of ſheets might be properly allowed to each hiſtory. As for me, the more I conſidered the great ex⯑tent of the work, and the number of em⯑pires and kingdoms which had not ſo much as been touched upon in the Ancient part, ſuch as Turkey, India, the great Mogul, Tartary, China, Japan, &c. the greateſt part of Africa, and the whole tract of America, to ſay nothing of Ruſſia and ſeveral other northern countries in Europe; the more I was perſuaded of the impoſ⯑ſibility of reducing the whole within ſo ſmall a number of volumes, unleſs it was done rather by way of epitome, than of compleat, though ever ſo ſuccinct, a hiſ⯑tory. But though this appeared ſtill more viſible by the ſmall number of ſheets which theſe plans, however different, allotted to moſt parts of the work, and muſt have [364] received by almoſt every reader, at the firſt view, yet the proprietors who had their particular reaſons for fixing upon that number of volumes, would by no means conſent to have it exceeded. This how⯑ever occaſioned ſome demur, during which ſome of the beſt judges in this kingdom, and out of it, were conſulted, as well as about the propereſt method of beginning and purſuing this modern part.