A Dialogue betwixt MERCURY, an Englifb Duelift, and a North-American Sivage. S Duellift. Mercury, Charon's boat is on the other fide of the water; allow me, before ir returns, to have fome converfation with the North-American Savage, whom you brought hither at the fame time as you conducted ine to the fhades. I never faw one of that species before, and am curious to know what the animal is. He looks very grim.-Pray, Sir, what is your naine? I understand you speak English. all. I mean, with regard to one's most famihar friends and acquaintances, or thofe who§14. scally are our inferiors; and there, undoubtely, a greater degree of cafe is not only alwed, but proper, and contributes much to the comforts of a private life, focial life. But tafe and freedom have their bounds, which muft by no means be violated. A certain degree of negligence and careleffnefs becomes injurious and infulting, from the real or fuppofed inferiority of the perfons; and that deEghtful liberty of converfation among a few friends, is foon deftroyed, as liberty often has been, by being carried to licentioufnefs. But example explains things beft, and I will put a pretty ftrong cafe:-Suppofe you and me alone together; I believe you will allow that I have as good a right to unlimited freedom in your company, as either you or I can poffibly have in any other; and I am apt to believe too, that you would indulge me in that freedom, as far as any body would. But, notwithstanding this, do you imagine that I fhould think there was no bounds to that freedom? I affure you, I should not think fo; and I take myfelf to be as much tied down by a certain degree of good manners to you, as by other degrees of them to other people. The most familiar and intimate habitudes, connections and friendships, require a degree of good-breeding, both to preferve and ment them. The beft of us have our bad fides; Duellift. Bloody Bear, I refpect you, and and it is as imprudent as it is ill-bred, to exam much your humble fervant. My name is hibit them. I fhall not ufe ceremony with Tom Pufhwell, very well known at Authur's. you; it would be mifplaced between us: but I am a gentleman by my birth, and by profefI thall certainly obferve that degree of good-fion a gamefter, and a man of honour. I have breeding with you, which is, in the first place, killed men in fair fighting, in honourable decent, and which I am fure, is abfolutely fingle combat, but do not understand cutting acceflary to make us like one another's com- the throats of women and children. pany long. Lord Chesterfield Savage. Yes, I learned it in my childhood, having been bred up for fome years in the town of New-York: but before I was a man I returned to my countrymen, the valiant Mohawks; and being cheated by one of yours in the fale of fome rum, I never cared to have any thing to do with them afterwards. Yet I took up the hatchet for them with the reft of my tribe in the war against France, and was killed while I was out upon a fcalping party. But I died very well fatisfied: for my friends were victorious, and before I was thot I had fcalped feven men and five women and children. In a former war I had done ftill greater exploits. My name is The Bloody Bear: it was given me to exprefs my fiercenefs and valour. Savage. Sir, that is our way of making war. Every nation has its own cuftoms. N 5 But But by the grimnefs of your countenance, and that hole in your breaft, I prefume you were killed as I was myself, in fome fcalping party. How happened it that your enemy did not take off your fcalp? Duellift. Sir, I was killed in a duel. A friend of mine had lent me fome money; after two or three years, being in great want himfelf, he afked ine to pay him; I thought his demand an affront to my honour, and fent him a challenge. We met in HydePark; the fellow could not fence: I was the adroiteft fwordfman in England. I gave him three or four wounds: but at last he ran upon me with fuch impetuofity, that he put me out of my play, and I could not prevent him from whipping me through the lungs. I died the next day, as a man of honour fhould, without any fniveling figns of repentance: and he will follow me foon: for his furgcon has declared his wounds to be mortal It is faid that his wife is dead of her fright, and that his family of feven children will be undone by his death. So I am well revenged; and that is a comfort. For my part, I had no wife I always hated marriage: my whore will take good care of herself, and my children are provided for at the Foundling Hofpiral. Savage. Mercury, I won't go in a boat with that fellow. He has murdered his countryman; he has murdered his friend: I fay I won't go in a boat with that fellow. I will fwim over the river: I can fwim like a duck. Mercury. Swim over the Styx! it must not be done; it is against the law of Pluto's empire. You must go in the boat, and be quiet. Savage. Do not tell me of laws: I am a Savage: I value no laws. Talk of laws to the Englishman: there are laws in his country, and yet you fee he did not regard them. For they could never allow him to kill his fellow-fubject in time of peace, becaufe he afked him to pay a debt. I know that the English are a barbarous nation; but they cannot be fo brutal as to make fuch things lawful. Mercury. You reafon well against him. But how comes it that you are to offended with murder: you who have maffacred women in their fleep, and children in their cradles. Savage. I killed none but my enemies: I never killed my own countrymen: I never killed my friend. Here, take my blanket, and let it come over in the boat; but fee that the murderer does not fit upon it, or touch it; if he does I will burn it in the fire I fee yonder. Farewel.-I am refolved to swim over the water. Mercury. By this touch of my wand I take all thy ftrength from thee.-Swim now if thou canst. Savage. This is a very potent enchanter thee. Mercury. I reftore it; but be orderly, and do as I bid you, otherwife worfe will befal you. Duellift. Mercury, leave him to me. I will tutor him for you. Sirrah, Savage, doft thou pretend to be afhamed of my company? Doft thou know that I have kept the best company in England? Savage. I know thou art a fcoundrel.Not pay thy debts! kill thy friend, who lent thee money, for asking thee for it! Get out of my fight. I will drive thee into Styx. Mercury. Stop-I command thee. No violence.-Talk to him calmly. Savage. Savage. I must obey thee.-Well, Sir, let me know what merit you had to introduce you into good company. What could you do 2 Duellifi. Sir, I gamed, as I told you.— Befides, I kept a good table.-I cat as well as any man in England or France. Savage. Eat! Did you ever cat the chinc of a Frenchman, or his leg, or his fhoulder? there is fine eating! I have cat twenty.---My table was always well ferved. My wife was the best cook for drefling of man's flesh in all North America. You will not pretend to compare your eating with mine. Duelift. I dance very finely. Savage. I will dance with thee for thy ears.--I can dance all day long. I can dance the war-dance with more fpirit and vigour than any man of my nation: let us fee thee begin it. How thou ftandeft like a poft! Has Mercury ftruck thee with his enfeebling rod ? or art thou ashamed to let us fee how awkward thou art? If he would permit me, I would teach thee to dance in a way that thou haft not yet learnt. I would make thee caper and leap like a buck. But what elfe canft thou do, thou bragging rafcal? Duellift. Oh, heavens! muft I bear this? what can I do with this fellow? I have neither fword nor piftol; and his fhade feems to be twice as ftrong as mine. Mercury. You must answer his questions. It was your own defire to have a converfation with him. He is not well-bred but he will tell you fome truths which you must hear in this place. It would have been well for you if you had heard them above. He afked you what you could do befides eating and dancing. Duellift. Ifung very agreeably. fong, or the war-hoop. I challenge you to fing.---The fellow is mute.--Mercury, this is a liar.--He tells us nothing but lies. Let me pull out his tongue. Duellift. The lie given me !---and, alas ! I dare not refent it. Oh, what a difgrace to the family of the Pufhwell's! this indeed is damnation. Mercury. Here, Charon, take these two favages to your care. How far the barbarism of the Mohawk will excufe his horrid acts, I leave Minos to judge; but the Englishman, what excufe can be plead? The custom of duelling A bad excufe at the beft! but in his cafe cannot avail. The fpirit that made him draw his fword in this combat against his friend is not that of honour; it is the fpirit of the furies, of Alecto herself. To her he muft go, for the hath long dwelt in his mercilcfs bofom. Savage. If he is to be punished, turn him over to me. I understand the art of tormenting. Sirrah, I begin with this kick on your breech. Get you into the boat, or I'll give you another. I am impatient to have you condemned. Duellift. Oh, my honour, my honour, to what infamy art thou fallen! Dialogues of the Dead. § 15. The Art of Pleafing. The defire of being pleafed is univerfal: the defire of pleafing thould be fo too. It is included in that great and fundamental principle of morality, of doing to others what one wifhes they fhould do to us. There are indeed fome moral duties of a much higher nature, but none of a more amiable; and I do not hesitate to place it at the head of the minor virtues. The manner of conferring favours or bene What vaft returns, merit at great interest. hits is, as to pleafing, almost as important as the matter itself. Take care, then, never to throw away the obligations, which perhaps you may have it in your power to confer upon others, by an air of infolent protection, or by a cold and comfort lefs manner, which The man who is amiable, will make almoft ftifles them in their birth. Humanity inclines, as many friends as he does acquaintances. religion requires, and our moral duties oblige I mean in the current acceptation of the word, us, as far as we are able, to relieve the dif- but not fuch fentimental friends, as Pylades treffes and mifcries of our fellow-creatures: or Oreftes, Nyfus and Euryalus, &c. but he but this is not all: for a true heart-felt bene- will make people in general with him well, and volence and tendernefs will prompt us to inclined to ferve him in any thing not inconcontribute what we can to their cafe, their fiftent with their own intereft. amufement, and their pleasure, as far as inno- Civility is the effential article towards pleas cently we may. Let us then not only fcattering, and is the refult of good-nature and of benefits, but even ftrew flowers for our fellow-good-fenfe; but good-breeding is the decoratravellers, in the rugged ways of this wretched tion, the luftre of civility, and only to be acworld. quired by a minute attention to, and experience of, good company. A good natured ploughman or fox-hunter, may be intentionally as civil as the politeft courtier; but their manner often degrades and vilifies the matter; whereas, in good-breeding, the manner always adorns and dignifies the matter to fuch a degree, that I have often known it give currency to base coin. There are fome, and but too many in this country particularly, who, without the leaft vifible taint of ill-nature and malevolence, feem to be totally indifferent, and do not fhew the leaft defire to pleafe; as on the other hand they never defignedly offend. Whether this proceeds from a lazy, negligent, and liftlefs difpofition, from a gloomy and melancholic nature, from ill health, low fpirits, or Civility is often attended by a ceremoniousfrom a fecret and fullen pride, arifing from nefs, which good-breeding corrects, but will the consciousness of their boasted liberty and not quite abolish. A certain degree of cereindependency, is hard to determine, confider-mony is a neceffary out-work of manners, ing the various movements of the human heart, and the wonderful errors of the human head. But, be the caufe what it will, that neutrality, which is the effect of it, makes thefe people, as neutralities do, despicable, and mere blanks in fociety. They would furely be roufed from their indifference, if they would feriously confider the infinite utility of pleafing. The perfon who manifefts a conftant defire to pleafe, places his, perhaps, fmall frock of as well as of religion: it keeps the forward and petulant at a proper diftance, and is a very fmall reftrain to the fenfible, and to the wellbred part of the world. Chesterfield. § 16. Humorous Scene at an Inn between Bon. This way, this way, Sir. Aim, You're my landlord, I fuppofe? Yes, Sir, I'm old Will Boniface; pretty pretty well known upon this road, as the faying is. Aim. O, Mr. Boniface, your fervant, Bon. O, Sir, what will your honour please to drink, as the faying is? dit, Sir: but it killed my. wife, poor woman! as the faying is. Aim. How cane that to pafs? Bon. I don't know how, Sir--She would not let the ale take its natural course, Sir: the Aim. I have heard your town of Litch-was for qualifying it every now and then field much famed for ale; I think I'll tafte that. Bon. Sir, I have now in my cellar ten tun of the beft ale in Staffordshire: 'tis fmooth as oil, fweet as milk, clear as' amber, and ftrong as brandy; and will be just fourteen years old the fifth day of next March, oid style. Aim, You're very exact, I find, in the age of your ale. Bon. As punctual, Sir, as I am in the age of my children: I'll fhew you fuch ale ;--Here, Tapfter, broach number 1706, as the faying is.---Sir, you fhall tafte my anno domini.---I have lived in Litchfield, man and boy, above eight-and-fifty years, and, I believe, have not confumed eight-and-fifty ounces of meat. Aim. At a meal, you mean, if one may guess by your bulk. Bon. Not in my life, Sir; I have fed purely upon ale: I have ate my ale, drank my ale, and always fleep upon my ale, Enter Tapfter with a Tankard. Now, Sir, you fhall fec------Your worship's health: [Drinks]--Ha! delicious, delicious! ---Fancy it Burgurdy, only fancy it---and 'tis worth ten fhillings a quart. Aim. [Drinks] 'Tis confounded ftrong. Bon. Strong! it must be fo, or how would we be ftrong that drink it? Aim. And have you liv'd fo long upon this ale, landlord? Bon. Eight-and-fifty years, upon my cre with a Dram, as the faying is; and an honeft gentleman that came this way from Ireland, made her a prefent of a dozen bottles of ufquebaugh---But the poor woman was never well after---but, however, I was obliged to the gentleman, you know. Aim. Why, was it the ufquebaugh that killed her? Bon. My lady Bountiful faid fo---She, good lady did what could be done: fhe cured her of three tympanies: but the fourth carried her off: but the's happy, and I'm contented, as the faying is. Aim. Who's that lady Bountiful you mentioned? Bon. Ods my life, Sir, We'll drink her health: [Drinks]--My lady Bountiful is one of the best of woman. Her laft husband, Sir, Charles Bountiful, left her worth a thousand pounds a year; and, I believe, the lays out one-half on't in charitable uses for the good of her neighbours. Aim. Has the lady any children? Bon. Yes, Sir, she has a daughter by Sir Charles; the finest woman in all our country, and the greatest fortune. She has a fon too, by her first hufband, 'fquire Sullen, who married a fine lady from London t'other day: if you please, Sir, we'll drink his health. [Drinks.] Aim. What fort of a man is he? Bon. Why, Sir, the man's well enough: fays little, thinks lefs, and does nothing at all, faith but he's a man of great estate, and values nobody. Aim |