Section 37 of the Expedition of Humphry-Klinka by Tobias Smollett. To Sir Watkin Phillips of Jesus College, Oxford. Dear Wat, I mentioned in my last my uncle's design of going to the Duke of Enns-Lovey, which design has been executed accordingly. The case has been so long accustomed to this kind of homage that though the place he fills does not imply the tenth part of the influence which he exerted in his former office, he has given his friends to understand that they cannot oblige him in anything more and in contributing to support the shadow of that power which he no longer retains in substance, and therefore he has still public days on which they appear at his lovay. My uncle and I went thither with Mr Barton, who, being one of the Duke's adherents, undertook to be our introducer. The room was pretty well filled with people in a great variety of dress, but there was no more than one gown and cassock, though I was told his grace had, while he was minister, preferred almost every individual that now filled the bench of bishops in the House of Lords. But in all probability the gratitude of the clergy is like their charity, which shuns the light. Mr Barton was immediately accosted by a person well stricken in years, tall and raw-boned, with a hook-nose and an arch-lear, that indicated at least as much cunning as sagacity. Our conductor saluted him by the name of Captain C, and afterwards informed us he was a man of shrewd parts, whom the government occasionally employed in secret services. But I have had the history of him more at large from another quarter. He had been many years ago concerned in fraudulent practices as a merchant in France, and being convicted of some of them was sent to the galleys, from whence he was delivered by the interest of the late Duke of Ormond, to whom he had recommended himself in letter as his namesake and relation. He was in the sequel employed by our ministry as a spy, and in the war of 1740 traversed all Spain as well as France in the disguise of a capuchin. At the extreme hazard of his life, inasmuch as the Court of Madrid had actually got sent of him and given orders to apprehend him at St. Sebastian's, from whence he had fortunately retired but a few hours before the order arrived. This and other hair-breath escapes he pleaded so effectually as a merit with the English ministry that they allowed him a comfortable pension, which he now enjoys in his old age. He has still access to all the ministers, and is said to be consulted by them on many subjects as a man of uncommon understanding and great experience. He is in fact a fellow of some parts and invincible assurance, and in his discourse he assumes such an air of self-sufficiency as may very well impose upon some of the shallow politicians who now labour at the helm of administration. But if he is not belied, this is not the only imposture of which he is guilty. They say he is at bottom not only a Roman Catholic, but really a priest, and while he pretends to disclose to our state pilots all the springs that move the cabinet of Versailles, he is actually picking up intelligence for the service of the French minister. Be that as it may, Captain C entered into conversation with us in the most familiar manner, and treated the duke's character without any ceremony. This wise-acre said he is still a bed, and I think the best thing he can do is to sleep on till Christmas, for when he gets up he does nothing but expose his own folly. Since Grenville was turned out, there has been no minister in this nation worth the meal that whitened his periwig. They are so ignorant they scarce know a crab from a cauliflower, and then there are such dances that there is no making them comprehend the plainest proposition. In the beginning of the war this poor half-witted creature told me in a great fright that thirty thousand French had marched from Accadir to Cape Breton. Where did they find transports? said I. Transports? cried he. I tell you they marched by land. By land to the island of Cape Breton. What is Cape Breton an island? Suddenly. Pa, are you sure of that? When I pointed it out in the map he examined it earnestly with his spectacles, then taking me in his arms. My dear sea! cried he. You always bring us good news. Beg ad, I'll go directly and tell the king that Cape Breton is an island. He seemed disposed to entertain us with more anecdotes of this nature at the expense of his grace when he was interrupted by the arrival of the Algerian ambassador.  Captain C. immediately spoke with an air of authority to a servant in waiting, bidding him go and tell the Duke to rise, as there was a great deal of company come, and among others the ambassador from Algiers. Then, turning to us, this poor Turk, said he, notwithstanding his grey beard, is a green horn. He has been several years resident in London, and still is ignorant of our political revolutions. This visit is intended for the Prime Minister of England, but you'll see how this wise Duke will receive it as a mark of attachment to his own person. Certain it is the Duke seemed eager to acknowledge the compliment.  "'My dear Muhammad,' said he, "'God love your long beard! I hope the day will make you a horse-tail at the next promotion. Ha ha ha! Have but a moment's patience, and I'll send you in a twinkling.'" So saying, he retired into his den, leaving the Turk in some confusion. After a short pause, however, he said something to his interpreter, the meaning of which I had great curiosity to know, as he turned up his eyes while he spoke, expressing astonishment, mixed with devotion. We were gratified by means of the communicative Captain C, who conversed with the Dragaman as an old acquaintance. Ibrahim, the ambassador, who had mistaken his grace for the minister's fool, was no sooner un-deceived by the interpreter than he exclaimed to this effect. Holy Prophet! I don't wonder that this nation prospers, seeing it is governed by the council of idiots, a series of men whom all good Muslim men refer as the organs of immediate inspiration. Ibrahim was favoured with a particular audience of short duration, after which the Duke conducted him to the door, and then returned to diffuse his gracious looks among the crowd of his worshippers. As Mr Barton advanced to present me to his grace, it was my fortune to attract his notice before I was announced. He forthwith met me more than half way, and seizing me by the hand. I dare, Sir Francis! cried he. This is so kind! I vow to God I am so obliged! Such a tension to a poor broken minister! Well, pray, when does your excellency set sail? For God's sake, have a care of your health, and eat stewed prunes in the passage. Next to your own precious health, pray, my dear excellency, take care of the five nations. Oh, good friends, the five nations, the Torerores, the McCulmocks, the Outer the Ways, the Crickets, and the Kick Shores! Let them have plenty of blankets, and stinkubus, and wampum, and your excellency won't fail to scour the kettle, and boil the train, and bury the tree, and plant the hatchet. Ha, ha, ha! When he had uttered this rhapsody, with his usual precipitation, Mr Barton gave him to understand that I was neither Sir Francis nor Saint Francis, but simply Mr Melford, nephew to Mr Bramble, who, stepping forward, made his bow at the same time. Ah, so! No more it is, Sir Francis, said this wise statesman. Mr Melford, I'm glad to see you. I sent you an engineer to fortify your dock. Mr Bramble, your servant, Mr Bramble. How do you, good Mr Bramble? Your nephew is a pretty young fellow. Faith and truth are very pretty fellow. His father is my old friend. How does he hold it? Still troubled with that damned disorder, how? No, my lord, replied my uncle, all his troubles are over. He has been dead to these fifteen years. Ted! Ha! Yes, Faith, now I remember. He is dead, sure enough. Well, and how? Does the young gentleman stand for Haverford West? Or, what, dear? My dear Mr Melford Haven, how do you all the service in my power I hope I have some credit left? My uncle then gave him to understand that I was still a miner, and that we had no intention to trouble him at present for any favour whatsoever. I came hither with my nephew. How did he to pay our respects to your grace? And I may venture to say that his views and mine are at least as disinterested as those of any individual in this assembly. My dear Mr Brambleberry, you do me infinite honour. I shall always rejoice to see you and your hopeful nephew, Mr Melford Haven. My credit, such as it is, you may command. I wish we had more friends of your kidney. Then turning to Captain C. Ha! See! said he. What news see! How does the world wag? Ha! The world wags much after the old fashion, my lord! answered the captain. The politicians of London and Westminster have begun again to wag their tongues against your grace.  A pack of rascals! cried the Duke. Tories, Jacobites, rebels! One half of them would wag their heels at Tyburn if they had their deserts. So saying he wheeled about, and going round the levée spoke to every individual with the most courteous familiarity. But he scarce ever opened his mouth without making some blunder in relation to the person or business of the party with whom he conversed, so that he really looked like a comedian hired to burlesque the character of a minister. At length the person of very pre-possessing appearance coming in, his grace ran up and hugging him in his arms with the appellation of, my dear chum! Led him forthwith into the inner apartment or sanctum sanctorum of this political temple. That, said Captain C., is my friend C. T., almost the only man of parts who has any concern in the present administration. Indeed he would have no concern at all in the matter if the ministry did not find it absolutely necessary to make use of his talents upon some particular occasions. As for the common business of the nation, it is carried on in a constant routine by the clerks of the different offices. Otherwise the wheels of government would be wholly stopped amidst the abrupt succession of ministers, every one more ignorant than his predecessor. I am thinking what a fine hovel we should be in if all the clerks of the treasury and secretaries of the war office and the admiralty should take it in their heads to throw up their places in imitation of the great pensioner. But return to C. T., he certainly knows more than all the ministry and all the opposition if their heads were laid together and talks like an angel on a vast variety of subjects. He would rarely be a great man if he had any consistency or stability of character. Then it must be owned, he wants courage, otherwise he would never allow himself to be cowed by the great political bully for whose understanding he has justly a very great contempt. I have seen him as much afraid of that overbearing Hector as ever schoolboy was of his pedagogue, and yet this Hector, I shrewdly suspect, is no more than a craven at bottom. Besides this defect C. has another which he is at too little pains to hide. There is no faith to be given to his assertions and no trust to be put in his promises. However, to give the devil his due, he is very good-natured and even friendly when close-erged in the way of solicitation. As for principle, that's out of the question, in a word he is a wit and an orator, extremely entertaining, and he shines very often at the expense even of those ministers to whom he is a retainer. This is a mark of great imprudence by which he has made them all his enemies, whatever face they may put upon the matter, and sooner or later he'll have cause to wish he had been able to keep his own counsel. I have several times cautioned him upon this subject, but is all preaching to the desert. His vality runs away with his discretion. I could not help thinking the captain himself might have been the better for some hints of the same nature. His panagiric, excluding principle and veracity puts me in mind of a contest I once overheard in the way of altercation betwixt two Apple women in Spring Garden. One of those viragos, having hinted something to the prejudice of the other's moral character, her antagonist, setting her hands in her sides, replied, Speak out, Hussie, I scorn your malice.    We did not wait for Mr. T's coming forth, but after Captain C had characterised all the originals in waiting, we adjourned to a coffee-house, where we had buttered muffins and tea to breakfast, the said captain still favouring us with his company. Nay, my uncle was so diverted with his anecdotes that he asked him to dinner, and treated him with a fine turbot to which he did ample justice. That same evening I spent at the tavern with some friends, one of whom led me into C's character, which Mr. Bramble no sooner understood than he expressed some concern for the connection he had made, and resolved to disengage himself from it without ceremony. We are become members of the society for the encouragement of the arts, and have assisted at some of their deliberations, which were conducted with equal spirit and sagacity. My uncle is extremely fond of the institution, which will certainly be productive of great advantages to the public, if from its democratical form it does not degenerate into cabal and corruption. You are already acquainted with his aversion to the influence of the multitude, which he affirms is incompatible with excellence and subversive of order. Indeed, his detestation of the mob has been heightened by fear, ever since he fainted in the room at Bath. And this apprehension has prevented him from going to the little theatre in the hay market, and other places of entertainment, to which, however, I have had the honour to attend the ladies. It greats old square-toes to reflect that it is not in his power to enjoy even the most elegant diversions of the capital without the participation of the vulgar, for they now thrust themselves into all assemblies, from a ridotto at St James's to a hop at Rotherhithe. I have lately seen our old acquaintance, Dick Ivy, who we imagined had died of dram-drinking, but he has lately emerged from the fleet by means of a pamphlet which he wrote and published against the government with some success. The sale of this performance enabled him to appear in clean linen, and he is now going about soliciting subscriptions for his poems, but his britches are not yet in the most decent order. Dick certainly deserves some countenance for his intrepidity and perseverance. It is not in the power of disappointment, or even of damnation, to drive him to despair. After some unsuccessful essays in the way of poetry, he commenced Brandy Merchant, and I believe his whole stock ran out through his own bowels, and then he consorted with a milkwoman who kept a cellar in Petty France, but he could not make his quarters good. He was dislodged and driven upstairs into the kennel by a corporal in the Second Regiment of Footguards. He was afterwards the Laureate of Black Friars, from whence there was a natural transition to the fleet. As he had formerly miscarried in Panagyric, he now turned his thoughts to satire, and really seems to have some talent for abuse. If he can hold out till the meeting of the Parliament and be prepared for another charge, in all probability Dick will mount the pillory, or obtain a pension. In either of which events his fortune will be made. Meanwhile he has acquired some degree of consideration with the respectable writers of the age, and as I have subscribed for his works, he did me the favour till the night to introduce me to a society of those geniuses. But I found them exceedingly formal and reserved. They seemed afraid and jealous of one another, and sat in a state of mutual repulsion, like so many particles of vapour each surrounded by its own electrified atmosphere. Dick, who has more vivacity than judgement, tried more than once to enliven the conversation, sometimes making an effort at wit, sometimes letting off a pun, and sometimes discharging a conundrum. Nay, at length, he started a dispute upon the hackneyed comparison between blank verse and rhyme, and the professors opened with great clamour. But instead of keeping to the subject, they launched out into tedious dissertations on the poetry of the ancients, and one of them, who had been a schoolmaster, displayed his whole knowledge of prosody, gleaned from disputer and rudiment. At last I ventured to say I did not see how the subject in question could be at all elucidated by the practice of the ancients, who certainly had neither blank verse nor rhyme in their poems, which were measured by feet, whereas ours are reckoned by the number of syllables. This remark seemed to give umbridge to the pedant, who forthwith involved himself in a cloud of Greek and Latin quotations, which nobody attempted to dispel. A confused hum of insipid observations and comments ensued, and upon the whole I never passed a dull evening in my life. Yet without all doubt some of them were men of learning, wit and ingenuity. As they are afraid of making free with one another, they should bring each his butt or whetstone along with him for the entertainment of the company. My uncle says he never desires to meet with more than one wit at a time. One wit, like a knuckle of ham in soup, gives a zest and flavour to the dish, but more than one serves only to spoil the potage. And now I am afraid I have given you an unconscionable mess without any flavour at all, for which I suppose you will bestow your benediction upon your friend and servant J. Melford. London, June 5th. End of Section 37 Dear Louis, your fable of the monkey and the pig is what the Italians call Ben Travada, but I shall not repeat it to my apothecary, who is a proud scotchman, very thin-skinned and, for all I know, may have his degree in his pocket. A right scotchman has always two strings to his bow, and is in a Trumke paratus. Certain it is, I have not escaped a scouring, but I believe by means of that scouring I have escaped something worse, perhaps a tedious fit of the gout or rheumatism, where my appetite began to flag, and I had certain croakings in the bowels which boated me no good. Nay, I am not yet quite free of these remembrances, which warn me to be gone from this centre of infection. What temptation can a man of my turn and temperament have to live in a place where every corner teams with fresh objects of detestation and disgust? What kind of taste and organs must those people have who really prefer the adulterate enjoyments of the town to the genuine pleasures of a country retreat? Most people, I know, are originally seduced by vanity, ambition, and childish curiosity, which cannot be gratified but in the busy haunts of men. But in the course of this gratification their very organs of sense are perverted and they become habitually lost to every relish of what is genuine and excellent in its own nature. Shall I stay at the difference between my town grievances and my country comforts? At Brambleton Hall I have elbow room within doors and breathe a clear elastic, salutary air. I enjoy refreshing sleep which is never disturbed by horrid noise nor interrupted but in a morning by the sweet Twitter of the Martlet at my window. I drink the virgin lymph, pure and crystalline, as it gushes from the rock or the sparkling beverage homebrewed from malt of my own making. Or I indulge with cider which my own orchard affords or with claret of the best growth imported from my own use by a correspondent on whose integrity I can depend. My bread is sweet and nourishing made from my own wheat ground in my own mill and baked in my own oven. My table is, in a great measure, furnished from my own ground. My five-year-old mutton fed on the fragrant herbage of the mountains that might vie with venison in juice and flavor. My delicious veal fattened with nothing but the mother's milk that fills the dish with gravy. My poultry from the barn door that never knew confinement but when they were at roost. My rabbits panting from the warren, my game fresh from the moors, my trout and salmon struggling from the stream, oysters from their native banks, and herrings with other sea fish I can eat in four hours after they are taken. My salads, roots, and pot herbs my own garden yields in plenty and perfection the produce of the natural soil prepared by moderate cultivation. The same soil affords all the different fruits which England may call her own so that my dessert is every day fresh gathered from the tree. My dairy flows with nectarius tides of milk and cream from once we derive abundance of excellent butter, curds, and cheese, and the refuse fattens my pigs that are destined for hams and bacon. I go to bed betimes and rise with the sun. I make shift to pass the hours without weariness or regret, and am not destitute of amusements within doors when the weather will not permit me to go abroad. I read and chat and play at billiards, cards, or bat-gammon. Without doors I superintend my farm and execute plans of improvements, the effects of which I enjoy with unspeakable delight. Nor do I take less pleasure in seeing my tenants thrive under my auspices and the poor live comfortably by the employment which I provide. You know I have one or two sensible friends to whom I can open all my heart, a blessing which perhaps I might have sought in vain among the crowded scenes of life.  Finally, I live in the midst of honest men and trusty dependents who, I flatter myself, have a disinterested attachment to my person. You yourself, my dear doctor, can vouch for the truth of these assertions. Now mark the contrast at London. I am pent up in frowsy lodgings where there is not room enough to swing a cat, and I breathe the steams of endless putrefaction, and these would undoubtedly produce a pestilence if they were not qualified by the gross acid of sea coal, which is itself a pernicious nuisance to lungs of any delicacy of texture. But even this boasted corrector cannot prevent those languid, shallow looks that distinguish the inhabitants of London from those ruddy swains that lead a country life. I go to bed after midnight, jaded and restless from the dissipations of the day. I start every hour from my sleep at the horrid noise of the watchmen balling the hour through every street and thundering at every door. A set of useless bellows who serve no other purpose but that of disturbing the repose of the inhabitants. In about five o'clock I start out of bed in consequence of the still more dreadful alarm made by the country carts and noisy rustics bellowing green peas under my window. If I would drink water I must quack the malchish contents of an open aqueduct exposed to all manner of defilement, or swallow that which comes from the River Thames impregnated with all the filth of London and Westminster. Human excrement is the least offensive part of the concrete, which is composed of all the drugs, minerals and poisons used in mechanics and manufacture, enriched with the putrefying carcasses of beasts and men, and mixed with the scouring of all the wash tubs, kennels and common sewers within the bills of mortality. This is the agreeable quotation extolled by the Londoners as the finest water in the universe. As to the intoxicating potion sold for wine it is a vile, unpalatable and pernicious sophistication, baldered ash with cider, corn, spirit and the juice of sloves. In an action at law, late against the car man for having staved a casket port, it appeared from the evidence of the Cooper that there were not about five gallons of real wine in the whole pipe which held above a hundred, and even that had been brewed and adulterated by the merchant at a porto. The bread I eat in London is a deleterious paste mixed up with chalk, alum and bone ashes, insipid to the taste and destructive to the constitution. The good people are not ignorant of this adulteration, but they prefer it to wholesome bread because it is whiter than the meal of corn. Thus they sacrifice their taste and their health and the lives of their tender infants to a most absurd gratification of a misjudging eye. And the miller or the baker is obliged to poison them and their families in order to live by his profession. The same monstrous depravity appears in their veal which is bleached by repeated bleeding and other villainous arts till there is not a drop of juice left in the body and the poor animal is paralytic before it dies. So void of all taste, nourishment and savor that a man might dine as comfortably on a white fricassee of kid skin gloves or chip hats from leg horn. As they have discharged the natural color from their bread, their butchers meat and poultry, their cutlets, ragus, fricassees and sauces of all kinds, so they insist upon having the complexion of their pot herbs mended even at the hazard of their lives. Perhaps you will hardly believe they can be so mad as to boil their greens with brass half-pence in order to improve their color, and yet nothing is more true. Indeed, without this improvement in the color they have no personal merit. They are produced in an artificial soil in taste of nothing but the dung hills from once they spring. My cabbage, cauliflower, and sparrigus in the country are as much superior in flavor to those that are sold in Covid garden as my heath mutton is to that of St. James's Market. Which, in fact, is neither lamb nor mutton, but something betwixt the two, gorged in the rank fends of Lincoln and Essex, pale, coarse, and frowsy. As for the pork, it is an abominable carnivorous animal, fed with horse flesh and distiller's grains, and the poultry is all rotten in consequence of a fever occasioned by the infamous practice of sewing up the gut that they may be the sooner fattened in coops in consequence of this cruel retention. Of the fish, I need say nothing in this hot weather, but that it comes 60, 70, 4 score and 100 miles by land carriage, a circumstance sufficient without any comment to turn a Dutchman's stomach, even if his nose was not saluted in every alley with a sweet flavor of fresh mackerel, selling by retail. This is not the season for oysters. Nevertheless, it may not be amiss to mention that the right coal chester are kept in slime pits occasionally overflowed by the sea, and that the green color, so much admired by the voluptuaries of this metropolis, is occasioned by the vitriolic scum which rises on the surface of the stagnant and stinking water. Our rabbits are bred and fed in the poultry's cellar where they have neither air nor exercise. Consequently, they must be firm in flesh and delicious in flavor, and there is no game to be had for love or money. It must be owned. The covent garden affords some good fruit, which, however, is always engrossed by a few individuals of overgrown fortune at an exorbitant price, so that little else than the refuse of the market falls to the share of the community, and that is distributed by such filthy hands as I cannot look at without loathing. It was but yesterday that I saw a dirty barrel bunter in the street, cleaning her dusty fruit with her own spittle, and who knows but some fine lady of St. James's Parish might admit into her delicate mouth those very cherries which have been rolled and moistened between the filthy and perhaps ulcerated chops of a St. Giles's huckster. I need not dwell upon the pallet-contaminated mash, which they call strawberries, soiled and tossed by greasy paws through twenty baskets crusted with dirt, and then presented with the worst milk, thickened with the worst flour, into a bad likeness of cream. But the milk itself should not pass unanalyzed. The produce of faded cabbage leaves and sour draught, lowered with hot water, frothed with bruised snails, carried through the streets in open pales, exposed to foul rinsings, discharged from doors and windows, spittle snot and tobacco quids from foot passengers, overflowing from mud carts, spatterings from coach wheels, dirt and trash chucked into it by roguish boys for the joke's sake. The viewings of infants who have slabbered in the tin measure, which is thrown back in that condition among the milk for the benefit of the next customer, and finally the vermin that drops from the rags of the nasty drab that vends this precious mixture under the respectable denomination of milkmaid. I shall conclude this catalogue of London dainties with that table-beer, guiltless of hops and malt, vapid and nauseous, much fitter to facilitate the operation of a vomit than to quench thirst and promote digestion. The tallowy rancid mass, called butter, manufactured with candle grease and kitchen stuff, and their fresh eggs imported from France and Scotland. Now all these enormities might be remedied with the very little attention to the article of police or civil regulation, but the wise patriots of London have taken it into their heads that all regulation is inconsistent with liberty and that every man ought to live in his own way without restraint. Nay, as there is not sense enough left among them to be discomposed by the nuisance I have mentioned, they may for ought I care, wallow in the mire of their own pollution. A companionable man will undoubtedly put up with many inconveniences for the sake of enjoying a agreeable society. A facetious friend of mine used to say, the wine could not be bad where the company was agreeable. A maxim which, however, ought to be taken come reno solace, but what is the society of London that I should be tempted for its sake to mortify my senses and compound with such uncleanness as my soul abhors? All the people I see are too much engrossed by schemes of interest or ambition to have any room left for sentiment or friendship. Even in some of my old acquaintance, those schemes and pursuits have obliterated all traces of our former connection. This conversation is reduced to party disputes and illiberal altercation, social commerce to formal visits and card-playing. If you pick up a diverting original by accident, it may be dangerous to amuse yourself with his oddities. He is generally a tartar at bottom, a sharper a spy or a lunatic. Every person you deal with endeavors to overreach you in the way of business. You are preyed upon by idle mendicants who beg in the phrase of borrowing and live upon the spoils of the stranger. Your tradesmen are without conscience, your friends without affection and your dependents without fidelity. My letter would swell into a treatise where I to particularize every cause of offense that fills up the measure of my aversion to this and every other crowded city. Thank heaven I am not so far sucked into the vortex, but that I can disengage myself without any great effort of philosophy. From this wild uproar of navery, folly and impertence, I shall fly with double relish to the serenity of retirement, the cordial effusions of unreserved friendship, the hospitality and protection of the rural gods, in a word the jacunda oblivia vitae which Horace himself had not tasted enough to enjoy. I have agreed for a good traveling coach in four at a guinea day for three months certain, and next week we intend to begin our journey to the north, hoping still to be with you by the latter end of October. I shall continue to write from every stage where we make any considerable halt as often as anything occurs which I think can afford you the least amusement. In the meantime, I must beg you will superintend the economy of barns with respect to my hay and corn harvests. Assured that my ground produces nothing but what you may freely call your own. On any other terms I should be ashamed to subscribe myself, your unvariable friend, Matt Bramble, London, June 8. End of Section 38 Section 39 of the Expedition of Humphrey Clinker This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Martin Giesen The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker By Tobias Smollett Section 39 To Sir Watkin Phillips Baronet of Jesus College, Oxford Dear Phillips, in my last I mentioned having spent an evening with a society of authors who seemed to be jealous and afraid of one another. My uncle was not at all surprised to hear me say I was disappointed in their conversation. A man may be very entertaining and instructive upon paper, said he, and exceedingly dull in common discourse. I have observed that those who shine most in private company are but secondary stars in the constellation of genius. A small stock of ideas is more easily managed and sooner displayed than a great quantity crowded together. There is very seldom anything extraordinary in the appearance and address of a good writer, whereas a dull author generally distinguishes himself by some oddity or extravagance. For this reason I fancy that an assembly of grubs must be very diverting. My curiosity being excited by this hint, I consulted my friend Dick Ivy, who undertook to gratify it the very next day, which was Sunday last. He carried me to Dine with S, whom you and I have long known by his writings. He lives in the skirts of the town, and every Sunday his house is open to all unfortunate brothers of the quill, whom he treats with beef, pudding, and potatoes, pork, punch, and Calvert's entire butt beer. He has fixed upon the first day of the week for the exercise of his hospitality, because some of his guests could not enjoy it on any other, for reasons that I need not explain. I was civilly received in a plain yet decent habitation, which opened backwards into a very pleasant garden, kept in excellent order, and indeed I saw none of the outward signs of authorship, either in the house or the landlord, who is one of those few writers of the age that stand upon their own foundation without patronage and above dependence. If there was nothing characteristic in the entertainer, the company made ample amends for his want of singularity. At two in the afternoon I found myself one of ten messmates seated at table, and I questioned if the whole kingdom could produce such another assemblage of originals. Among their peculiarities I do not mention those of dress, which may be purely accidental, what struck me were oddities originally produced by affectation, and afterwards confirmed by habit. One of them wore spectacles at dinner, and another his hat flapped, though as Ivy told me the first was noted for having a seaman's eye when a bailiff was in the wind, and the other was never known to labour under any weakness or defect of vision except about five years ago, when he was complimented with a couple of black eyes by a player with whom he had quarrelled in his drink. A third wore a laced stocking and made use of crutches, because once in his life he had been laid up with a broken leg, though no man could leap over a stick with more agility. A fourth had contracted such an antipathy to the country that he insisted upon sitting with his back towards the window that looked into the garden, and when a dish of cauliflower was set upon the table he snuffed up volatile salts to keep him from fainting. Yet this delicate person was the son of a cottager, born under a hedge, and had many years run wild among asses on a common. A fifth affected distraction. When spoke to he always answered from the purpose. Sometimes he suddenly started up and wrapped out a dreadful oath, sometimes he burst out a laughing, then he folded his arms and sighed, and then he hissed like fifty serpents. At first I really thought he was mad, and as he sat near me began to be under some apprehensions for my own safety. When our landlord, perceiving me alarmed, assured me aloud that I had nothing to fear. The gentleman said he is trying to act a part for which he is by no means qualified. If he had all the inclination in the world it is not in his power to be mad. His spirits are too flat to be kindled into frenzy. It is no bad path, however, observed a person in a tarnished laced coat. Affected in madness, will pass for wit with nine-nineteen out of twenty. And affected stuttering for humour, replied our landlord, though God knows there is an affinity betwixt them. It seems this wag, after having made some abortive attempts in plain speaking, had recourse to this defect, by means of which he frequently extorted the laugh of the company, without the least expense of genius, and that imperfection which he had at first counterfeited was now become so habitual that he could not lay it aside. A certain winking genius, who wore yellow gloves at dinner, had on his first introduction taken such a fence at S because he looked and talked and ate and drank like any other man, but he spoke contemptuously of his understanding ever after, and never would repeat his visit until he had exhibited the following proof of his caprice. What Wyville, the poet, having made some unsuccessful advances towards an intimacy with S, at last gave him to understand, by a third person, that he had written a poem in his praise and a satire against his person, that if he would admit him to his house the first should be immediately sent to press, but that if he persisted in declining his friendship he would publish his satire without delay. S replied that he looked upon Wyville's panigeric as in effect a species of infamy, and would resent it accordingly with a good cudgel, but if he published the satire he might deserve his compassion and had nothing to fear from his revenge. Wyville, having considered the alternative, resolved to mortify S by printing the panigeric, for which he received a sound drubbing. Then he swore the peace against the aggressor, who in order to avoid a prosecution at law admitted him to his good graces. It was the singularity in S's conduct on this occasion that reconciled him to the yellow-gloved philosopher, who owned he had some genius, and from that period cultivated his acquaintance. Curious to know upon what subject the several talents of my fellow guests were employed, I applied to my communicative friend Dick Ivy, who gave me to understand that most of them were, or had been, understrapers or journeymen, to more creditable authors, for whom they translated, collated and compiled in the business of book-making, and that all of them had at different times laboured in the service of our landlord, though they had now set up for themselves in various departments of literature. Not only their talents, but also their nations and dialects were so various, that our conversation resembled the confusion of tongues at Babel. We had the Irish Brogue, the Scotch accent, and foreign idiom, twang'd off by the most discordant vociferation. For as they all spoke together, no man had any chance to be heard unless he could bore louder than his fellows. It must be owned, however, there was nothing pedantic in their discourse. They carefully avoided all learned disquisitions, and endeavoured to be facetious. Nor did their endeavours always miscarry. Some troll repartee passed, and much laughter was excited. And if any individual lost his temper so far as to transgress the bounds of decorum, he was effectually checked by the master of the feast, who exerted a sort of paternal authority over this irritable tribe. The most learned philosopher of the whole collection, who had been expelled the university for atheism, had made great progress in a refutation of Lord Bullingbrook's metaphysical works, which is said to be equally ingenious and orthodox. But in the meantime he has been presented to the grand jury as a public nuisance for having blasphemed in an alehouse on the Lord's Day. The Scotchman gave lectures on the pronunciation of the English language, which he is now publishing by subscription. The Irishman is a political writer, and goes by the name of My Lord Potato. He wrote a pamphlet in vindication of a minister, hoping his zeal would be rewarded with some place or pension. But finding himself neglected in that quarter, he whispered about that the pamphlet was written by the minister himself, and he published an answer to his own production. In this he addressed the author under the title of your lordship with such solemnity that the public swallowed the deceit and bought up the whole impression. The wise politicians of the metropolis declared they were both masterly performances and chuckled over the flimsy reveries of an ignorant gariteer as the profound speculations of a veteran statesman acquainted with all the secrets of the cabinet. The imposture was detected in the sequel, and our Hebernian pamphlet here retains no part of his assumed importance, but the bare title of My Lord, and the upper part of the table at the potato ordinary in Shulain. Opposite to me sat a piedmontese who had obliged the public with a humorous satire entitled The Balance of the English Poets, a performance which evinced the great modesty and taste of the author, and in particular his intimacy with the elegances of the English language. The sage who laboured under the agoraphobia or horror of green fields had just finished a treatise on practical agriculture, though in fact he had never seen corn growing in his life and was so ignorant of grain that our entertainer in the face of the whole company made him own that a plate of hominy was the best rice pudding he had ever ate. The stutterer had almost finished his travels through Europe and part of Asia without ever budging beyond the liberties of the king's bench, except in term time with a tip-star for his companion, and as for little Tim Cropdale, the most facetious member of the whole society, he had happily wound up the catastrophe of a virgin tragedy, from the exhibition of which he promised himself a large fund of profit Tim had made shift to live many years by writing novels at the rate of five pounds of volume, but that branch of business is now engrossed by female authors who publish merely for the propagation of virtue with so much ease and spirit and delicacy and knowledge of the human heart and in all the serene tranquillity of high life that the reader is not only enchanted by their genius but reformed by their morality. After dinner we adjourned into the garden where I observed Mr. S. gave a short, separate audience to every individual in a small remote Filbert Walk, from whence many of them dropped off one after another without further ceremony. But they were replaced by fresh recruits of the same clan who came to make an afternoon's visit, and among others a spruce book-seller called Birkin who rode his own gelding and made his appearance in a pair of new gemmy boots with massy spurs of plate. It was not without reason that this midwife of the Muses used exercise a horseback, for he was too fat to walk a foot, and he underwent some sarcasms from Tim Cropdale on his unwieldy size and inaptitude for motion. Birkin, who took umbridge at this poor author's petulance in presuming to joke upon a man so much richer than himself, told him he was not so unwieldy but that he could move the martial sea court for a writ and even overtake him with it if he did not very speedily come and settle accounts with him, respecting the expense of publishing his last ode to the King of Prussia, of which he had sold but three, and one of them was to Whitfield the Methodist. Tim affected to receive this intimation with good humour, saying he expected in a post or two from Potsdam a poem of thanks from his Prussian Majesty who knew very well how to pay poets in their own coin. But in the meantime he proposed that Mr Birkin and he should run three times round the garden for a bowl of punch, to be drank at Ashley's in the evening, and he would run boots against stockings. The bookseller, who valued himself upon his metal, was persuaded to accept the challenge and he forthwith resigned his boots to Cropdale, who when he had put them on was no bad representation of Captain Pistol in the play. Everything being adjusted they started together with great impetuosity, and in the second round Birkin had clearly the advantage, larding the lean earth as he puffed along. Cropdale had no mind to contest the victory further, but in the twinkling disappeared through the back door of the garden, which opened into a private lane that had communication with the high road. The spectators immediately began to hollow, stole away, and Birkin set off in pursuit of him with great eagerness. But he had not advanced twenty yards in the lane when a thorn running into his foot set him hopping back into the garden, roaring with pain and swearing with vexation. When he was delivered from this annoyance by the Scotsman, who had been bred to surgery, he looked about him wildly, exclaiming, sure the fellow won't be such a rogue as to run clear away with my boots. Our landlord, having reconnoitred the shoes he had left, which indeed hardly deserved that name. Pray, said he, Mr. Birkin, want your boots made of calfskin. Calfskin or cowskin, replied the other, I'll find a slip of sheepskin that will do his business. I lost out of pocket five pounds by his damned oad, and now this pair of boots brand new cost me thirty shillings as per receipt. But this affair of the boots is felony, transportation. I'll have the dog indicted at the old Bailey. I will, Mr. S. I will be revenged, even though I should lose my debt in consequence of his conviction. Mr. S. said nothing at present, but accommodated him with a pair of shoes, then ordered his servant to rub him down. And comfort him with a glass of rum punch, which seemed in a great measure to cool the rage of his indignation. After all, said our landlord, this is no more than a humbug in the way of wit, though it deserves a more respectable epithet when considered as an effort of invention. Tim being, I suppose, out of credit with the cordwainer, fell upon this ingenious expedient to supply the want of shoes, knowing that Mr. Birkin, who loves humour, would himself relish the joke upon a little recollection. Croppdale literally lives by his wit, which he has exercised upon all his friends in their turns. He once borrowed my pony for five or six days to go to Salisbury and sold him in Smithfield at his return. This was a joke of such a serious nature that in the first transports of my passion I had some thoughts of prosecuting him for horse-stealing. And even when my resentment had in some measure subsided, as he industriously avoided me, I vowed I would take satisfaction on his ribs with the first opportunity. One day, seeing him at some distance in the street coming towards me, I began to prepare my cane for action and walked in the shadow of a porter that he might not perceive me soon enough to make his escape. But in the very instant I had lifted up the instrument of correction, I found Tim Croppdale metamorphosed into a miserable, blind wretch, feeling his way with a long stick from post to post and rolling about two bald, unlighted orbs instead of eyes. I was exceedingly shocked at having so narrowly escaped the concern and disgrace that would have attended such a misapplication of vengeance. But next day Tim prevailed upon a friend of mine to come and solicit my forgiveness and offer his note, payable in six weeks, for the price of the pony. This gentleman gave me to understand that the blind man was no other than Croppdale, who, having seen me advancing and guessing my intent, had immediately converted himself into the object aforesaid. I was so diverted at the ingenuity of the evasion that I agreed to pardon his offence, refusing his note, however, that I might keep a prosecution for felony hanging over his head as a security for his future good behavior. But Timothy would by no means trust himself in my hands till the note was accepted. Then he made his appearance at my door as a blind beggar and imposed in such a manner upon my man, who had been his old acquaintance and pot-companion, that the fellow threw the door in his face and even threatened to give him the bastinado. Hearing a noise in the hall, I went thither and immediately recollecting the figure I had passed in the street, accosted him by his own name to the unspeakable astonishment of the footman. Birkin declared that he loved a joke as well as another, but asked if any of the company could tell where Mr. Croppdale lodged. But he might send him a proposal about restitution before the boots should be made away with. I would willingly give him a pair of new shoes," said he, and half a guinea into the bargain for the boots which fitted me like a glove, and I shan't be able to get the fellas of them till the good weather for riding is over. The stuttering wit declared that the only secret which Croppdale ever kept was the place of his lodgings, but he believed that during the heats of summer he'd commonly took his repose upon a bulk or indulged himself in fresco with one of the kennel-nymphs under the portico of St. Martin's Church. "'Pocks on him,' cried the bookseller, "'he might as well have taken my whip and spurs. In that case he might have been tempted to steal another horse, and then he would have rid to the devil, of course.' After coffee I took my leave of Mr. S. with proper acknowledgments of his stability, and was extremely well pleased with the entertainment of the day, though not yet satisfied with the respect to the nature of this connection betwixt a man of character in the literary world and a parcel of authorlings who in all probability would never be able to acquire any degree of reputation by their labours.  One would imagine S. had some view to his own interest in giving countenance and assistance to those people whom he knows to be bad men as well as bad writers, but if he has any such view he will find himself disappointed. For if he is so vain as to imagine he can make them subservient to his schemes of profit or ambition, they are cunning enough to make him their property in the meantime. There is not one of the company you have seen today, myself accepted, who does not owe him particular obligations. One of them he bailed out of a sponging house and afterwards paid the debt. Another he translated into his family and clothed when he was turned out half naked from jail in consequence of an act for the relief of insolvent debtors. A third who was reduced to a woollen nightcap and lived upon sheep's trotters up three pair of stairs backward in Butcher Row, he took into present pay and free quarters and enabled him to appear as a gentleman without having the fear of sheriff's officers before his eyes. Those who are in distress he supplies with money and he has it and with his credit when he is out of cash. When they want business he either finds employment for them in his own service or recommends them to booksellers to execute some project he has formed for their subsistence. They are always welcomed to his table, which though plain is plentiful, and to his good offices as far as they will go and when they see occasion they make use of his name for excellent familiarity. Nay, they do not even scruple to arrogate to themselves the merit of some of his performances and have been known to sell their own lucubrations as the produce of his brain. The Scotchman you saw at dinner once personated him at an alehouse in West Smithfield and in the character of S had his head broke by a cowkeeper for having spoke disrespectfully of the Christian religion, but he took the law of him in his own person and the assailant was feigned to give him ten pounds to withdraw his action. I observed that all this appearance of liberality on the side of Mr S was easily accounted for on the supposition that they flattered him in private and engaged his adversaries in public and yet I was astonished when I recollected that I often had seen this writer virulently abused in papers, poems and pamphlets and not a pen was drawn in his defence. But you will be more astonished, said he, when I assure you those very guests whom you saw at his table today were the authors of great part of that abuse and he himself is well aware of their particular favours, for they are all eager to detect and betray one another. But this is doing the devil's work for nothing, cried I. What should induce them to revile their benefactor without provocation? Envy, answered Dick, is the general incitement, but they are galled by an additional scourge of provocation. S directs a literary journal in which their productions are necessarily brought to trial and though many of them have been treated with such lenity and favour as they little deserved yet the slightest censure such as perhaps could not be avoided with any pretensions to candour and impartiality has rankled in the hearts of those authors to such a degree that they have taken immediate vengeance on the critic in anonymous libles, letters and lampoons. Indeed all the writers of the age got bad and indifferent from the moment he assumed this office became his enemies, either professed or in petto, except those of his friends who knew they had nothing to fear from his strictures and he must be a wiser man than me who can tell what advantage or satisfaction he derives from having brought such a nest of hornets about his ears. I owned that was a point which might deserve consideration, but still I expressed a desire to know his real motives for continuing his friendship to a set of rascals equally ungrateful and insignificant. He said he did not pretend to assign any reasonable motive that if the truth must be told the man was in point of conduct a most incorrigible fool, that though he pretended to have a knack at hitting off characters he blundered strangely in the distribution of his favours which were generally bestowed on the most undeserving of those who had recourse to his assistants. That indeed this preference was not so much owing to want of discernment as to want of resolution, for he had not fortitude enough to resist the importunity even of the most worthless. And as he did not know the value of money there was very little merit in parting with it so easily. That his pride was gratified in seeing himself courted by such a number of literary dependents that probably he delighted in hearing them expose and to reduce one another.  I could not help suspecting from Dick's discourse that he had some particular grudge against S, upon whose conduct he had put the worst construction it would bear. And by dint of cross-examination I found he was not at all satisfied with the character which had been given in the review of his last performance, though it had been treated civilly in consequence of the author's application to the critic. By all accounts S is not without weakness and caprice but he is certainly good-humoured and civilised nor do I find that there is anything overbearing, cruel or implacable in his disposition. I have dwelt so long upon authors that you will perhaps suspect I intended to enrol myself among the fraternity but if I were actually qualified for the profession it is at best but a desperate resource against starving as it affords no provision for old age and infirmity. Salmon at the age of four score is now in a garret compiling matter at a guinea-sheet for a modern historian who in point of age might be his grand-child. And Salmonaza, after having drudged for half a century in the literary mill in all the simplicity and abstinence of an Asiatic subsists upon the charity of a few booksellers just sufficient to keep him from the parish. I think Guy, who was himself a bookseller ought to have appropriated one wing or ward of his hospital to the use of decayed authors. Though indeed there is neither hospital, college, nor work-house within the bills of mortality large enough to contain the poor of this society, composed as it is from the refuse of every other profession. I know not whether you will find any amusement in this account of an odd race of mortals whose constitution had, I own, greatly interested the curiosity of yours J. Melford. London, June 10th. End of Section 39 Section 40 of the Expedition of Humphreak Linker This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Expedition of Humphreak Linker by Tobias Smollett Section 40 to Miss Leticia Willis at Gloucester My dear Letty, there is something on my spirits which I should not venture to communicate by the post but having the opportunity of Mrs. Brentwood's return I seize it eagerly to disburden my poor heart which is oppressed with fear and vexation. Oh Letty, what a miserable situation it is to be without a friend to whom one can apply for counsel and consolation in distress. I hinted in my last that one Mr. Barton had been very particular in his civilities. I can no longer mistake his meaning. He has formally professed himself my admirer and after a thousand assiduities perceiving I made but a cold return to his addresses he had recourse to the mediation of Lady Grisken who has acted the part of a very warm advocate in his behalf. But, my dear Willis, her ladyship overacts her part. She not only expatiates on the ample fortune, the great connections and the unblemished character of Mr. Barton but she takes the trouble to cataclyse me and two days ago, peremptorily told me that a girl of my age could not possibly resist so many considerations if her heart was not pre-engaged. This insinuation threw me into such a flutter that she could not but observe my disorder and, presuming upon the discovery, insisted upon my making her the confident of my passion. But, although I had not such command of myself as to conceal the emotion of my heart, I am not such a child as to disclose its secrets to a person who would certainly use them to its prejudice. I told her it was no wonder if I was out of countenance at her introducing a subject of conversation so unsuitable to my ears and inexperience that I believed Mr. Barton was a very worthy gentleman and I was much obliged to him for his good opinion. But the affections were involuntary and mine, in particular, had Asiat made no concessions in his favour. She shook her head with an air of distrust that made me tremble and observed that if my affections were free they would submit to the decision of Prudin, especially when enforced by the authority of those who had a right to direct my conduct. This remark implied a design to interest my uncle or my aunt. Perhaps my brother, in behalf of Mr. Barton's passion and I am sadly afraid that my aunt is already gained over. Yesterday, in the forenoon, he had been walking with us in the park and stopping in our return at a toy shop, he presented her with a very fine snuff box which I resolutely refused till she commanded me to accept it on pain of her displeasure. Nevertheless, being still unsatisfied with respect to the propriety of receiving this toy, I signified my doubts to my brother who said he would consult my uncle on the subject and seemed to think Mr. Barton had been rather premature in his presence. What will be the result of this consultation? Heaven knows. But I am afraid it will produce an explanation with Mr. Barton who will, no doubt, avow his passion and solicit his consent to a connection which my soul abhors. For, my dearest Letty, it is not in my power to love Mr. Barton even if my heart was untouched by any other tenderness. Not that there is anything disagreeable about his person but there is a total want of that nameless charm which captivates and controls the enchanted spirit. At least he appears to me to have this defect. But if he had all the engaging qualifications which a man can possess, they would be elicited in vain against that constancy which, I flatter myself, is the characteristic of my nature. No, my dear Willis, I may be involved in fresh troubles and I believe I shall from the importunities of this gentleman and the violence of my relations. But my heart is incapable of change. You know I put no faith in dreams and yet I have been much disturbed by one that visited me last night. I thought I was in a church where a certain person, whom you know, was on the point of being married to my aunt. That the clergyman was Mr. Barton and that poor fallen I stood weeping in a corner half naked and without shoes or stockings. Now, I know there is nothing so childish as to be moved by those vain illusions. But nevertheless, in spite of all my reason, this hath made a strong impression upon my mind, which begins to be very gloomy. Indeed, I have another more substantial cause of affliction. I have some religious crouples, my dear friend, which lie heavy on my conscience. I was persuaded to go to the tabernacle where I heard a discourse that affected me deeply. I have prayed fervently to be enlightened, but as yet I am not sensible to these inward motions, those operations of grace are the signs of a regenerated spirit. And therefore, I begin to be in terrible apprehensions about the state of my poor soul. Some of our family have had very uncommon accessions, particularly my aunt and Mrs. Jenkins, who sometimes speak as if they were really inspired, so that I am not like to want for either exaltation or example to purify my thoughts and recall them from the vanities of this world, which, indeed, I would willingly resign if it was in my power. But to make this sacrifice, I must be enabled by such assistance from above, as had not yet been indulged to. Your unfortunate friend, Lydia Malford, June 10th, end of Section 40. Section 41 of the Expedition of Humphrey Clinker. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Martin Giesen. The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker. By Tobias Smollett. Section 41. To Sir Watkin Philips of Jesus College, Oxford. Dear Philips, the moment I received your letter to the Lord, I began to execute your commission. With the assistance of my host at the Bull and Gate, I discovered the place to which your fugitive valet had retreated and taxed him with his dishonesty. The fellow was in manifest confusion at sight of me, but he denied the charge with great confidence till I told him that if he would give up the watch, which was a family piece, he would not be able to keep the money and the clothes and go to the devil his own way at his leisure. But if he rejected this proposal, I would deliver him forthwith to the Constable, whom I had provided for that purpose, and he would carry him before the justice without further delay. After some hesitation, he desired to speak with me in the next room, where he produced the letter to the Lord. In the next room where he produced the watch with all its appendages, and I have delivered it to our landlord to be sent to you by the first safe conveyance. So much for business. I shall grow vain upon your saying you find entertainment in my letters, barren as they certainly are of incident and importance because your amusement must arise not from the matter, but from the manner which you know is all my own. Animated, therefore, by the approbation of a person whose nice taste and consummate judgment I can no longer doubt, I will cheerfully proceed with our memoirs. As it is determined we shall set out next week for Yorkshire, I went to-day in the forenoon with my uncle to see a carriage and a coach-maker in our neighbourhood. Turning down a narrow lane behind Long Acre we perceived a crowd of people standing at a door which, it seems, opened into a kind of methodist meeting and were informed that a footman was then holding forth to the congregation within. Curious to see this phenomenon we squeezed into the place with much difficulty. And who should this preacher be but the identical hump-free clinker? He had finished his sermon and given out a psalm, the first stave of which he sung with peculiar graces. But if we were astonished to see clinker in the pulpit we were altogether confounded at finding all the females of our family among the audience. There was Lady Griskin, Mistress Tabitha Bramble, Mistress Winifred Jenkins, my sister Liddy and Mr Barton, and all of them joined in the samadhi with strong marks of devotion. I could hardly keep my gravity on this ludicrous occasion, but Old Squerto was differently affected. The first thing that struck him was the presumption of his lackey, whom he commanded to come down with such an air of authority as Humphrey did not think proper to disregard. He descended immediately and all the people were in commotion. Barton looked exceedingly sheepish. Lady Griskin flirted her fan. Mistress Tabitha groaned in spirit. Liddy changed countenance and Mistress Jenkins sobbed as if her heart was breaking My uncle with a sneer asked pardon of the ladies for having interrupted their devotion saying he had particular business with the preacher whom he ordered to call a hackney coach. This being immediately brought up to the end of the lane he handed Liddy into it and my aunt and I following him we drove home without taking any further notice of the rest of the company she still remained in silent astonishment. Mr. Bramble, perceiving Liddy in great trepidation assumed a milder aspect bidding her be under no concern for he was not at all displeased at anything she had done. I have no objection said he to your being religiously inclined but I don't think my servant is a proper ghostly director for a devotee of your sex and character if in fact as I rather believe your aunt is not the sole conductress of this machine. Mistress Tabitha made no answer but threw up the whites of her eyes as if in the act of ejaculation. Poor Liddy said she had no right to the title of a devotee but she thought there was no harm in hearing a pious discourse even if it came from a footman especially as her aunt was present but that if she had heard from ignorance she hoped he would excuse it as she could not bear the thoughts of living under his displeasure. The old gentleman pressing her hand with a tender smile said she was a good girl and that he did not believe her capable of doing anything that could give him the least umbridge or disgust. When we arrived at our lodgings he commanded Mr. Clinker to attend him upstairs and spoke to him in these words since you are called upon by the spirit to preach and to teach it is high time to lay aside the livery of an earthly master and for my part I am unworthy to have an apostle in my service. I hope said Humphrey I have not failed in my duty to your honour. I should be a vile wretch if I did considering the misery from which your charity and compassion relieved me but having an inward admonition of the spirit an admonition of the devil cried the squire in a passion what admonition you blockhead what right as such a fellow as you to set up for a reformer begging your honour is pardoned replied Clinker may not the new light of God's grace shine upon the poor and the ignorant in their humility as well as upon the wealthy and the philosopher in all his pride of human learning what you imagine to be the new light of grace said his master I take to be a deceitful vapor glimmering through a crack in your upper story in a word Mr. Clinker I will have no light in my family at what pace the king's taxes unless it be the light of reason which you don't pretend to follow ah sir cried Humphrey the light of reason is no more in comparison to the light I mean than a farthing candle to the sun at noon very true said uncle the one will serve to show you your way and the other to dazzle and confound your weak brain Clinker you are either an hypocritical naive or a wrong headed enthusiast and in either case unfit for my service if you are a quack in sanctity and devotion you will find it an easy matter to impose upon silly women and others of crazed understanding who will contribute lavishly for your support if you are really seduced by the reveries of a disturbed imagination the sooner you lose your senses entirely the better for yourself and the community in that case some charitable person might provide you with a dark room and clean straw in bedlam where it would not be in your power to infect others with your fanaticism whereas if you have just reflection enough left to maintain the character of a chosen vessel in the meetings of the godly you and your hearers will be misled by a willy the wisp from one error into another till you are plunged into religious frenzy and then perhaps you will hang yourself in despair which the lord of his infinite mercy for bed exclaimed the affrighted clinker it is very possible I may be under the temptation of the devil who wants to wreck me on the rocks of spiritual pride whether a nave or a madman now as I'll assure your honour I am no nave it follows that I must be mad therefore I beseech your honour upon my knees to take my case into consideration that means may be used for my recovery the squire could not help smiling at the poor fellow's simplicity and promised to take care of him provided he would mind the business of his place running after the new light of Methodism but Mistress Tabitha took offence at his humility which she interpreted into poorness of spirit and worldly mindedness she upbraided him with the want of courage to suffer for conscious sake she observed that if he should lose his place for bearing testimony to the truth providence would not fail to find him another religious and declaring that it could not be very agreeable to live in a family where an inquisition was established retired to another room in great agitation my uncle followed her with a significant look then turning to the preacher you hear what my sister says if you cannot live with me upon such terms as I have prescribed the vineyard of Methodism lies before you and she seems very well disposed to reward your labour I would not willingly give a fence to any soul upon earth answered Humphrey her ladyship has been very good to me ever since we came to London and surely she has a heart turned for religious exercises and both she and Lady Griskin sing psalms and hymns like two cherubim but at the same time I am bound to love and obey your honour it becomeeth not such a poor ignorant fellow as me to hold dispute with a gentleman of rank and learning as for the matter of knowledge I am no more than a beast in comparison of your honour therefore I submit and with God's grace I will follow you to the world's end if you don't think me too far gone to be out of confinement his master promised to keep him for some time longer on trial then desired to know in what manner Lady Griskin and Mr Barton came to join their religious society he told him that her ladyship was the person who first carried my aunt and sister to the tabernacle wither he attended them and had his devotion kindled by Mr W's preaching that he was confirmed a new way by the preacher's sermons which he had bought and studied with great attention at his discourse and prayers had brought over Mr's Jenkins and the housemate to the same way of thinking but as for Mr Barton he had never seen him at service before this day when he came in company with Lady Griskin Humphrey moreover owned that he had been encouraged to mount the rostrum and success of a weaver who was much followed as a powerful minister that on his first trial he found himself under such strong impulsions as made him believe he was certainly moved by the spirit and that he had assisted in Lady Griskin's and several private houses at exercises of devotion Mr Bramble was no sooner informed that her ladyship had acted as the primum mobile of this confederacy then he concluded she had only made use of clinker as a tool subservient to the execution of some design to the true secret of which he was an utter stranger he observed that her ladyship's brain was a perfect mill for projects and that she and Tabby had certainly engaged the nature of which he could not comprehend I told him I thought it was no difficult matter to perceive the drift of Mistress Tabitha which was to ensnare the heart of Barton and that in all likelihood my Lady Griskin acted as her auxiliary that this supposition would account for their endeavours to convert him to Methodism an event which would occasion a connection of souls that might be easily improved into a matrimonial union my uncle seemed to be much diverted by the thoughts of this scheme succeeding but I gave him to understand that Barton was pre-engaged that he had the day before made a present of an étui to Liddy which her aunt had obliged her to receive with a view no doubt to countenance her own accepting of a snuff box at a time that my sister having made me acquainted with this incident I had desired an explanation of Mr Barton who declared his intentions were honourable and expressed his hope that I would have no objections to his alliance that I had thanked him for the honour he intended our family but told him it would be necessary to consult her uncle and aunt who were her guardians and their approbation that I could have no objection to his proposal though I was persuaded that no violence would be offered to my sister's inclinations in a transaction that so nearly interested the happiness of her future life that he had assured me he should never think of availing himself of a guardians authority unless he could render his addresses agreeable to the young lady herself and that he would immediately send Mistress Bramble to make Liddy a tender off his hand and fortune the squire was not insensible to the advantages of such a match and declared he would promote it with all his influence but when I took notice that there seemed to be an aversion on the side of Liddy he said he would sound her on the subject and if her reluctance was such as would not be easily overcome he would civilly decline the proposal of Mr Barton for he thought that in the choice of a husband a young woman ought not to sacrifice the feelings of her heart for any consideration upon earth Liddy is not so desperate said he as to worship fortune at such an expense I take it for granted this whole affair will end in smoke though there seems to be a storm brewing in the quarter of Mistress Tabby who sat with all the sullen dignity of silence at dinner seemingly pregnant with complaint and expostulation as she had certainly marked Barton for her own prey she cannot possibly favour his suit to Liddy and therefore I expect something extraordinary will attend his declaring himself my sister's admirer this declaration will certainly be made in form as soon as the lover can pick up resolution enough to stand the brunt of Mistress Tabby's disappointment for he is without doubt aware of her designs upon his person the particulars of the denouement you shall know in due season meanwhile I am always yours Jay Melford London June 10 end of section 41 section 42 of the expedition of Humphrey Clinker this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Deborah Lynn the expedition of Humphrey Clinker by Tobias Smollett section 42 Dear Louis the deceitful calm was of short duration I am plunged again in a sea of vexation and the complaints in my stomach and bowels are returned so that I suppose I shall be disabled from prosecuting the excursion I had planned what the devil had I to do to come a plague hunting with a leash of females in my train yesterday my precious sister who by the by has been for some time a professed methodist came into my apartment in an audience with a very stately air brother said she this gentleman has something to propose which I flatter myself will be the more acceptable as it will rid you of a troublesome companion then Mr Barton proceeded to this effect I am indeed extremely ambitious of being allied to your family Mr Bramble and I hope you will see no cause to interpose your authority as for authority said Tabby interrupting him with some warmth and the right to use on this occasion if I pay him the compliment of making him acquainted with the step I intend to take it is all he can expect in reason this is as much as I believe he would do by me if he intended to change his own situation in life in word brother I am so sensible of Mr Barton's extraordinary merit that I have been prevailed upon to alter my resolution of living a single life and to put my happiness in his hands by vesting him with a legal title as I am the business at present is to have the writings drawn and I shall be obliged to you if you will recommend a lawyer to me for that purpose you may guess what an effect this overture had upon me who from the information of my nephew expected that Barton was to make a formal declaration of his passion for Lydia I could not help gazing in silent astonishment alternately at Tabby and her supposed admirer who last hung his head in a pretense of being suddenly seized with a vertigo Mrs. Tabitha affected much concern and would have had him make use of a bed in the house but he insisted upon going home that he might have recourse of some drops which he kept for such emergencies and his inamorata acquiesced in the meantime I was exceedingly puzzled at this adventure though I suspected the truth and did not know in what manner to demean myself towards Mrs. Tabitha when Jerry came in and told me there was a light from his chariot at Lady Criscan's door this incident seemed to threaten a visit from her ladyship with which we were honored accordingly in less than half an hour I find, said she, there has been a match of cross purposes among you good folks and I've come to set you to rights so saying she presented me with the following billet Dear sir, I know sooner recollected myself from the extreme confusion I was thrown into by that lady to assure you that my devoise to Mrs. Bramble never exceeded the bounds of ordinary civility and that my heart is unalterably fixed upon Miss Liddy Melford as I had the honor to declare to her brother when he questioned me upon that subject Lady Criscan has been so good as to charge herself not only with the delivery of this note but also with the task of undeceiving Mrs. Bramble for whom I have the most profound respect and veneration Sir, you are a very humble servant Ralph Barton Having cast my eyes over this billet I told her ladyship that I would no longer retard the friendly office she had undertaken and I and Jerry fourth with retired into another room there we soon perceived the conversation grow very warm betwixt the two ladies and at length could distinctly hear certain terms of altercation which we could no longer delay interrupting with any regard to decorum When we entered the scene of contention they had joined the disputants and stood trembling betwixt them as if she had been afraid they would have proceeded to something more practical than words Lady Criscan's face was like the full moon in a storm of wind glaring fiery and portentous while Tabby looked grim and ghastly with an aspect breathing discord and dismay our appearance put a stop to their mutual revilings but her ladyship turning to me cousin said she I can't help saying I have met the pains I have taken to serve her family my family is much obliged to your ladyship cried Tabby with a kind of hysterical giggle but we have no right to the good offices of such an honorable go-between but for all that good Mrs. Tab at the Bramble resumed the other I shall be content with the reflection that virtue is its own reward and it shall not be my fault if you continue to make yourself ridiculous Mr. Bramble who has no little interest of his own to serve will note a match between Mr. Barton and his niece which will be equally honorable and advantageous and I dare say Miss Liddy herself will have no objection to a measure so well calculated to make her happy in life I beg your ladyship's pardon exclaimed Liddy with great vivacity I have nothing but misery to expect from such a measure and I hope my guardians will have too much compassion to barter my peace of mind for any consideration of interest or fortune upon my word Miss Liddy said she you have profited by the example of your good aunt I comprehend your meaning and will explain it when I have a proper opportunity in the meantime I shall take my leave Madam your most obedient and devoted humble servant said she advancing close up to my sister and curtsying so low that I thought she intended to squat herself down on the floor this salutation Tabby returned with equal solemnity and the expression of the two faces was no bad subject for a pencil like that of the incomparable Hogarth if any such should ever appear again in these times of dullness and degeneracy Jerry accompanied her ladyship to her house that he might have an opportunity to restore the attui to Barton and advise him to give up his suit which was so disagreeable to his sister against whom however he returned much irritated Lady Griskin had assured him that Liddy's heart was preoccupied and immediately the idea of Wilson his family pride took the alarm he denounced vengeance against the adventurer and was disposed to be very peremptory with his sister but I desired he would suppress his resentment until I should have talked with her in private the poor girl when I earnestly pressed her on this head owned with a flood of tears that Wilson had actually come to the hot well at Bristol and even introduced himself into our lodgings as a Jew peddler but that nothing had passed betwixt them to bring him to withdraw immediately if he had any regard for her peace of mind that he had disappeared accordingly after having attempted to prevail upon my sister's maid to deliver a letter which however she refused to receive though she had consented to carry a message importing that he was a gentleman of a good family and that in a very little time he would avow his passion in that character she confessed that although he had not kept his word in this particular he was not yet altogether indifferent to her affection but solemnly promised she would never carry on any correspondence with him or any other admirer for the future without the privity and approvation of her brother and me by this declaration she made her own peace with Jerry but the hot-headed boy is more than ever incensed against Wilson whom he now considers as an imposter that harbors some infamous design upon the honor of his family as for Barton he was terrified to find his present returned and his addresses so unfavorably received but he is not a man to be deeply affected by such disappointments and I know not whether he is not as well pleased with being discarded by Liddy as he would have been with the permission to prosecute his pretensions at the risk of being every day exposed to the revenge or machinations of Tabby who is not to be slighted with impunity I had not much time to moralize on these occurrences for the house was visited by a constable in his gang with a warrant from Justice Buzzard to search the box of Humphrey Clinker my footman who was just apprehended as a high woman this incident through the whole family into confusion my sister scolded the constable for presuming to enter the lodgings of a gentleman on such an errand without having first asked and obtained permission her maid was frightened into fits and Liddy shed tears of compassion for the unfortunate Clinker for my own part I made no doubt of the fellows being mistaken for some other person and I went directly to the justice in order to procure his discharge but there I found the matter much more serious than I expected poor Clinker stood trembling at the bar surrounded by thief takers and at a little distance a thick squat fellow his accuser who had seized him on the street and swore positively to his person that the said Clinker had robbed a gentleman in a post chase which he, the postillion, drove this deposition was sufficient to justify his commitment and he was sent accordingly to clerk-in-wall prison wither Jerry accompanied him in the coach in order to recommend him properly to the keeper that he may want for no convenience which the place affords the spectators who assembled to see this high women were sagacious enough to discern something very villainous and simplistic and the justice himself put a very unfavorable construction upon some of his answers which he said savored of the ambiguity and equivocation of an old offender but in my opinion it would have been more just and humane to impute them to the confusion into which we may suppose a poor country led to be thrown on such an occasion I am still persuaded he is innocent and in this persuasion I can do no less than use my utmost endeavors to write on the gentleman who was robbed and beg he will have the humanity to go and see the prisoner that in case he should find him quite different from the person of the high women he may bear testimony in his behalf how so ever it may fare with clinker this curse of the fair will be to me productive of intolerable chagrin I have already caught a dreadful cold by rushing into the open air from the justice's parlor where I had been stewing in the crowd and though I should not be laid up for some weeks till this poor devil comes to his trial at Rochester so that in all probability my northern expedition is blown up if you can find anything in your philosophical budget to console me in the midst of these distresses and apprehensions pray let it be communicated to your unfortunate friend Matt Bramble London June 12 end of section 42


Okay, let's be honest. After the last episode, I don't know what to expect anymore. Gojo is supposedly sealed. But the episode title today is Pandemonium, and I'm gonna be honest. If Panda isn't a part of this episode, it was a big waste of a title! Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the channel. My name is Jack the Boss for iShinobi. We're hopping into more JJK today. Geto's plan is in full force, I think. I don't know what to think anymore. Episode 34, let's run it. If you're new to the channel, drop a fat sub. Let's get started. Dude, this is my Kamaru. Okay, do we get an explanation for, yeah, the- the- the earpiece? Oh, he didn't know it was there? It just appeared? Did it scream? Destroy it! Did he, like, install, like, a life force in this? And how does he know he's sealed? Because there's some part of Mechamaru left? Isn't it sealed? Yeah, he's right there! Wake up. Whoa! Oh! What? Is this- Wait, who's doing this? Somebody need to wake up, wait. Buggy the Clown! We gotta kill Buggy! Oh my gosh! Wait, like, Geto, like, the original Geto's, like, fighting back? Is it instinct? No shot, that's so sad, if so. We both hog. Gojo, what are you talking about? The view! Is he just accepting that he's lost? So that's it! But how did Mechamaru know? There's no possible way for him to get out. What does it look like in there? It's a one-time- Well, that makes sense how powerful it is. Kills himself, it's unusable. But so he's- he can't, like, starve or anything. His existence is just in there? It's interesting, though, because that means that whatever happens in Shibuya, this Shibuya incident, I thought Gojo was gonna be, like, the main part of the whole fight, but he's sealed. I'm guessing a lot of it is going to be about unsealing him and getting him out, but I feel like it's gonna be a hefty process, man. There's Boruto. How does Mechamaru know? Oh. Very effective, I'm here. Yeah! Okay. Insurance by left. How do you do that? How? Is it part of his soul? Oh. It only activated if he was sealed. So it hits inherent existence and activation means it- oh, that happened. Is- is it one? I guess Yuji would be the next target because if Gojo's not there to protect him, or, like, stand in in any way. Two curses? It won't be Mahito or anybody, right? From the train- okay, from Shibuya? Well, just look at the Grasshopper, it's fine because we have all three of- of these guys. Now, I imagine Meimei is insanely strong. She's calling. Ignore them! You don't need to confirm the status. Oh. Four separate fails? They're stacking fails! Head to Shibuya. Oh, shoot. Everybody has to know. Go over and cover him, Gojo! No, true! Oh, shoot, it's out, baby! They wrapped it up so you can have this dramatic, like, entrance of it. God, dude, that's scary to think about. You don't have to ask. The two curses, or cursed users. Oh, what is that, man? He's got a pug! And it makes sense that Mechamaru would be the most worried because he knew most about their plan. He was behind the- the scenes. He was behind under the lines. Is he fighting- is he fighting back? Is this the seal? Can he? It seems like it. It's crying! How insanely strong is Gojo? Ooh, do we get to see what it looks like inside? This whole time isn't passing. Just stand still. Dude. He's just chilling in here, bro. He- he flashed at them. He knows that they can handle it. At least he's in high spirits. I'm glad we got to see what it looked like inside of it. Oh my God, we're at the half- oh my God, bro. 21-22 Shabuya. I thought we got so many fights coming, bro. There's Panda! Oh my God, was I right? Pedimonium. What'd you make this for? His face! He's so disappointed. Oh, no, he's proud of him. Oh, okay, cuz he's the one that explained it to him. That's all I said!  They don't just act. They're going in. So it begins. Oh, they enter similar- The little tail! This may be wise pandemonium though, since they all enter at the same time. Someone communicating what's happening. Oh, no. Oh, no. No! Oh, this is messed up, bro. He's gone gone.  I got a small shock- Oh, is this guy- I remember this guy, the butcher! Oh my gosh. The humans in suits. Yeah, what is going on? Is it him fighting? Look, finish processing. They just have to guard it? Dude! Oh my gosh. Mechamaru really did plan for a few things. Now they know that they know. Mechamaru can freaking carry the team from the grave. I mean, if we can defeat them, like, get some of them and get the seal, are we able to unseal it? There's gonna be someone that can. I like the little Mechamaru earpiece. Oh! Oh gosh. Gotta save as many as you can. Yuji's back, baby! Yuji's arrived at the main event!  Let me get over how nasty these things are, bro. Look at him change the game. Doom type game. We're going really hard. Stop obliterating these things. He wasn't getting a warm up in, bro. There you go. That's what she said was here. Itadai! He's gonna tell them. Bro, what a way to deliver it. Fui? That's not gonna be like snaps into action, bro. Then it's over! Brother! It's too real! Staying behind. Younger brothers. So, who are his younger brothers? Oh my gosh. Do they even need Tsukuna for him to turn into Tsukuna anymore? They sealed Gojo. Yeah, they're on even crown now. That's what I'm saying. Yeah, they don't need it. They're fine cutting that pie. That's what I'm saying too. Tsukuna is a loose cannon. Give him a finger. Oh my gosh. Okay, dude. Bro, it's like finder's keepers. We're keeping him alive and bringing back. He's not gonna play. He's gotta be the adult. Oh, so good with the backup plan, but they won. Ready, go! I don't like Mahito's young spirit as twisted as he is. Oh, shoot. What? So, these, what? So, those two were the ones that gave him the body? Oh my God. And who? I think that's living within, yeah. It like a parasite basically. Look at that cat. Oh, big stretch. Yeah, you're gonna have to sit on different groups. Break the veil. He's petting the cat. That's a hefty task, man. They're just standing there.  The collab to the Gojo clan. One man. Yeah, I was gonna say. Yeah, with curses. Oh. It's sort of like the new Pyra era beginning when like the stuff in one piece. If curses here, Gojo's gone. He's like the 90% of the force against curses all come out. I never even thought about that. That's why he says he in the world, it's not even just ghetto on them. It's everything. Oh my gosh. The little age, this would usher in the age of curses without even having to bring back Tsukuna. Damn, bro. It's setting up so much. And I think this was like sort of the prelude to it all. I think pandemonium wasn't really an app title, not because of panda, but I feel like it's more sort of like the calm before the storm. I don't know. Pandemonium would be like when all these fights start breaking out because it's pretty much inevitable since Mahito, Jogo and this other, I forget his name, bro. They said it like once are now all looking for Yuji, which is terrifying.  They don't even know it yet. But I love Nanami's just brashness. Just if that's true, it's over. That doesn't mean they shouldn't fight or like trying to like recover anything or get Gojo back, but it means it's over and it's a complete uphill battle now. He and the rest of the world knows who Gojo is, at least the rest of the sorcerer world and how important it is that he was sealed, how big of a deal it was that he was sealed. That's why Mechamaru left this behind. Mechamaru making a huge impact after death. My goodness. But dude, the whole Shibuya incident, I feel like it's actually just now beginning. Guys, that's been my reaction to episode 34 JJK. Let me know what you thought of the episode down in the comments below and I'll catch you in the next one. Peace, peace.


Our mind is a tremendous gift where it remembers vividly every experience and every information that comes our way. Well, this can be transformed in your phenomenal imagination, but if you lose control over your imagination, if you lose the discrimination as to what is imagination and what is reality, what is future, what is present and what is past, then your mind will become your greatest enemy. Most human beings are not suffering life, they're just suffering their memory and their imagination. What happened ten years ago, they still suffer. What may happen day after tomorrow, they already suffer. This is not about life, this is about lack of control over two most fantastic faculties that human beings have, a vivid sense of memory and a fantastic sense of imagination. Do not worry about your future, if you do your present well, future will naturally blossom. We can only work with what's on our hands right now. You cannot work with what's on your mind. You can plan for what's on your mind, but you cannot do anything about it. You can only act in the present moment. You can only handle what is there right now. Those of you who too engrossed in your own thoughts and emotions constantly being maybe on social media or something, I think you must get rid of your phone and take a walk in the forest. If it's not possible every day, at least one or two days in a month, you might get lost somewhere, just be in nature all by yourself, walk, sit, observe. If you pay enough attention, you will see you will be so enchantingly enamored by every little thing in the existence because the way a single ant is made is too much for you and your intelligence to grasp exactly how this is made.  When your thought and your emotion becomes more important than the creator's creation, that means you have become a perceptional tragedy. You have not realized the nature of life at all. We know many things, we can do many things, but we do not know anything in its entirety. So this is the nature of the existence. If you pay attention to it, naturally your own thought and emotion will sink to the background. You can still enjoy them, but you know how insignificant it is. So it's very important that if you want to experience the multifarious dimensions of life, you have to be non-serious.  This is a vast cosmos. The very planetary system, the solar system in which we exist is a speck. In that planet earth is a micro speck. In that micro speck, the place you live or the city you live is a super micro speck. In that you have become a big man or woman, and that's the reason why you are so serious about life. It's a brief amount of time that you have as life.  The secret of life is to see everything with a non-serious eye, but to be absolutely involved like a sport. So be a sport for life. If you want to be a sport for life, you have to be able to see that your existence is of consequence for the times in which we live, but not of eternal consequence, unless you touch the eternal dimension of who you really are. It's such a brief life only in doing what you truly care for. Will your life become worthwhile?  It's important that you find that. When I say it's important to find that, you don't have to spend half your life looking for what is my passion.  When everything is yours, this whole world is yours. This cosmos is yours.  Not necessarily your actions, not necessarily what you achieve and may not achieve, but your very existence will be truly worthwhile because just to breathe, there is no greater phenomenon in life. If this is not worthwhile, if this is not worthwhile, what is?