the afternoon, we got to Cambridge, where I left my wife at my cozen Angier's, while I went to Christ's College, and there found my brother in his chamber, and talked with him, and so to the barber's, and then to my wife again, and remounted for Impington, where my uncle received me and my wife very kindly.

19th. Up early, and my father and I alone talked about our business, and then we all horsed away to Cambridge, where my father and I, having left my wife at the Beare, with my brother, went to Mr.Sedgewicke, the steward of Gravely, and there talked with him, but could get little hopes from anything that he would tell us; but at last I did give him a fee, and then he was free to tell me what I asked, which was something, though not much comfort. From thence to our horses, and, with my wife, went and rode through Sturbridge fayre, but the fayre was almost done. Set out for Brampton, where we come in very good time.

20th. Will Stankes and I set out in the morning betimes for Gravely, where to an alehouse and drank, and then, going to the Court House, met my uncle Thomas and his son Thomas, with Bradly, the rogue that had betrayed us, and one Young, a cunning fellow, who guides them. I said little, till by and by that we come to the Court, which was a simple meeting of a company of country rogues, with the Steward, and two Fellows of Jesus College, that are lords of the towne; and I producing no surrender, though I told them I was sure there is and must be one somewhere, they found my uncle Thomas heire at law, as he is; and so my uncle was admitted and his son also in reversion. The father paid a year and a half for his fine, and the son half a year, in all, 48., besides about 31. fees; so that I do believe the charges of his journeys, and what he gives those two rogues, and other expenses herein, cannot be less than 7ol., which will be a sad thing for him, if a surrender be found. After all was done, I openly wished them joy in it.

21st. After dinner (there coming this morning my aunt Hanes and her son from London, that is to live with my father), I rode to Huntingdon, and so to Hinchingbroke, where Mr. Barnwell showed me the condition of the house, which is yet very backward, and I fear will be very dark in the cloyster when it is done.

22d. (Lord's day.) To church, where we had common prayer, and a dull sermon by one Mr. Case, who yet I heard sing very well.

23d. We took horse, and got early to Baldwick, where there was a fair, and we put in,

and eat a mouthful of porke, which they made us pay 14d. for, which vexed me much. And so away to Stevenage, and staid till a shower was over, and so rode easily to Welling. We supped well, and had two beds in the room, and so lay single.

24th. We rose, and set forth, but found a most sad alteration in the roade, by reason of last night's rains, they being now all dirty and washy, though not deep. So we rode easily through, and only drinking at Holloway, at the sign of a woman with cakes in one hand, and a pot of ale in the other, which did give good occasion of mirth, resembling her to the maid that served us, we got home very timely and well, and finding there all well, and letters from sea, that speak of my Lord's being well; and his Action, though not considerable of any side, at Algiers.

25th. Sir W. Pen told me that I need not fear any reflection upon my Lord for their ill success at Argier, for more could not be done. Meeting Sir R. Slingsby in St. Martin's Lane, he and I in his coach through the Mewes, which is the way that now all coaches are forced to go, because of a stop at Charing Crosse, by reason of digging of a drayne there to clear the streets. To my Lord Crewe's, and dined with him, where I was used with all imaginable kindness both from him and her. And I see that he is afraid my Lord's reputacon will a little suffer in common talk by this late successe; but there is no help for it now. The Queen of England, as she is now owned and called, I hear, doth keep open court, and distinct at Lisbone. To the Theatre, and saw "The Merry Wives of Windsor" ill done.

26th. With my wife by coach to the Theatre, to show her "King and no King," it being very well done.

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27th. At noon, met my wife at the Wardrobe; and there dined, where we found Captain Country, my little Captain that I loved, who carried me to the Sound, with some grapes and millons from my Lord at Lisbone, the first that ever I saw; but the grapes are rare things. In the afternoon comes Mr. Edward Montagu, by appointment this morning, to talk with my Lady and me about the provisions fit to be bought and sent to my Lord along with him. And told us, that we need not trouble ourselves how to buy them, for the King would pay for all, and that he would take care to get them: which put my Lady and me into a great

1 melons

OF THE FATAL IMPOSTURE AND FORCE OF WORDS

The generality of mankind is wholly and absolutely governed by words and names; without; nay, for the most part, even against the knowledge men have of things. The multitude, or common rout, like a drove of sheep, or an herd of oxen, may be managed by any noise, or cry, which their drivers shall accustom them to.

And, he who will set up for a skilful manager of the rabble, so long as they have but ears to hear, needs never inquire, whether they have any understanding whereby to judge; but with two or three popular, empty words, such as popery and superstition, right of the subject, liberty of conscience, Lord Jesus Christ well tuned and humoured; may whistle them backwards and forwards, upwards and downwards, till he is weary; and get up upon their backs when he is so.

As for the meaning of the word itself, that may shift for itself; and, as for the sense and reason of it, that has little or nothing to do here; only let it sound full and round, and chime right to the humour, which is at present agog, (just as a big, long, rattling name is said to command even adoration from a Spaniard,) and, no doubt, with this powerful, senseless engine the rabble-driver shall be able to carry all be

1 an old play, by an unknown author

fore him, or to draw all after him, as he pleases. For, a plausible, insignificant word, in the mouth of an expert demagogue, is a dangerous and a dreadful weapon.

You know, when Cæsar's army mutinied, and grew troublesome, no argument from interest, or reason, could satisfy or appease them: but, as soon as he gave them the appellation of Quirites, the tumult was immediately hushed; and all were quiet and content, and took that one word in good payment for all. Such is the trivial slightness and levity of most minds. And indeed, take any passion of the soul of man, while it is predominant, and afloat, and, just in the critical height of it, nick it with some lucky, or unlucky word, and you may as certainly overrule into your own purpose, as a spark of fire, falling upon gunpowder, will infallibly blow it up.

The truth is, he who shall duly consider these matters, will find that there is a certain bewitchery, or fascination in words, which makes them operate with a force beyond what we can naturally give an account of. For, would not a man think, ill deeds, and shrewd turns, should reach further, and strike deeper than ill words? And yet many instances might be given, in which men have much more easily pardoned ill things done, than ill things said against them: such a peculiar rancour and venom do they leave behind them in men's minds, and so much more poisonously and incurably does the serpent bite with his tongue, than with his teeth.

Nor are men prevailed upon at this odd, unaccountable rate, by bare words, only through a defect of knowledge; but sometimes. also do they suffer themselves to be carried away with these puffs of wind, even contrary to knowledge and experience itself. For otherwise, how could men be brought to surrender up their reason, their interest, and their credit to flattery? Gross, fulsome, abusive flattery; indeed more abusive and reproachful upon a true estimate of things and persons, than the rudest scoffs, and the sharpest invectives. Yet so it is, that though men know themselves utterly void of those qualities and perfections, which the imprudent sycophant, at the same time, both ascribes to them, and in his sleeve laughs at them for believing; nay, though they know that the flatterer himself knows the falsehood of his own flatteries, yet they swallow the fallacious morsel, love the impostor, and with both arms hug the abuse; and that to such a degree, that no offices of friendship, no real

services shall be able to lie in the balance against those luscious falsehoods, which flattery shall feed the mind of a fool in power with; the sweetness of the one infinitely overcomes the substance of the other.

And therefore, you shall seldom see, that such an one cares to have men of worth, honesty, and veracity about him; for, such persons cannot fall down and worship stocks and stones, though they are placed never SO high above them. But their yea is yea, and their nay, nay; and, they cannot admire a fox for his sincerity, a wolf for his generosity, nor an ass for his wit and ingenuity; and therefore can never be acceptable to those whose whole credit, interest, and advantage lies in their not appearing to the world, what they are really in themselves. None are, or can be welcome to such, but those who speak paint and wash; for that is the thing they love; and, no wonder, since it is the thing they need. There is hardly any rank, order, or degree of men, but more or less have been captivated, and enslaved by words. It is a weakness, or rather a fate, which attends both high and low. The statesman, who holds the helm, as well as the peasant who holds the plough. So that if ever you find an ignoramus in place or power, and can have so little conscience, and so much confidence, as to tell him to his face, that he has a wit and understanding above all the world beside; and that what his own reason cannot suggest to him, neither can the united reasons of all mankind put together; I dare undertake, that, as fulsome a dose as you give him, he shall readily take it down, and admit the commendation, though he cannot believe the thing: Blanditiae etiam cum excluduntur placent; says Seneca. Tell him, that no history or antiquity can match his policies and his conduct; and presently the sot (because he knows neither history, nor antiquity) shall begin to measure himself by himself, (which is the only sure way for him not to fall short); and so immediately amongst his outward admirers, and his inward despisers, vouched also by a teste meipso, he steps forth an exact politician; and, by a wonderful, and new way of arguing, proves himself no fool, because, forsooth, the sycophant, who tells him so, is an egregious knave.

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But to give you a yet grosser instance of the force of words, and of the extreme variety of man's nature in being influenced by them,

1 Flattery pleases even when rejected.

hardly shall you meet with any person, man or woman, so aged, or ill-favoured, but if you will venture to commend them for their comeliness; nay, and for their youth too; though time out of mind is wrote upon every line of their face; yet they shall take it very well at your hands, and begin to think with themselves, that certainly they have some perfections, which the generality of the world are not so happy as to be aware of.

But now, are not these (think we) strange self-delusions, and yet attested by common experience, almost every day? But whence, in the meantime, can all this proceed, but from that besotting intoxication, which this verbal magic (as I may so call it) brings upon the mind of man? For, can anything in nature have a more certain, deep, and undeniable effect, than folly has upon man's mind, and age upon his body? And yet we see, that in both these, words are able to persuade men out of what they find and feel, to reverse the very impressions of sense, and to amuse men with fancies and paradoxes even in spite of nature, and experience. But, since it would be endless to pursue all the particulars in which this humour shows itself; whosoever would have one full, lively, and complete view of an empty, shallow, self-opinioned grandee, surrounded by his flatterers, (like a choice dish of meat by a company of fellows commending, and devouring it at the same time), let him cast his eye upon Ahab in the midst of his false Prophets, 1 Kings 22. Where we have them all with one voice for giving him a cast of their court-prophecy, and sending him, in a compliment, to be knocked on the head at Ramoth Gilead. But, says Jehoshaphat, (who smelt the parasite through the prophet) in the 7th verse, Is there not a Prophet of the Lord besides, that we may inquire of him? Why yes, says Ahab, there is yet one man by whom we may inquire of the Lord; but I hate him, for he doth not prophesy good concerning me, but evil. Ah! that was his crime; the poor man was so good a subject, and so bad a courtier, as to venture to serve, and save his Prince, whether he would or no; for, it seems, to give Ahab such warning, as might infallibly have prevented his destruction, was esteemed by him evil, and to push him on headlong into it, because he was fond of it, was accounted good. These were his new measures of good and evil. And therefore, those who knew how to make their court better, (as the word is) tell him a bold lie in God's name, and therewith sent him packing to his

certain doom; thus calling evil good at the cost of their Prince's crown, and his life too. But what cared they? they knew that it would please, and that was enough for them; there being always a sort of men in the world, (whom others have an interest to serve by,) who had rather a great deal be pleased, than be safe. Strike them under the fifth rib; provided at the same time you kiss them too, as Joab served Abner, and you may both destroy and oblige them with the same blow.

Accordingly in the 30th of Isaiah we find some arrived to that pitch of sottishness, and so much in love with their own ruin, as to own

plainly and roundly what they would be at; in the 10th verse; Prophesy not unto us, say they, right things, but prophesy to us smooth things. As if they had said, do but oil the razor for us, and let us alone to cut our own throats. Such an enchantment is there in words; and so fine a thing does it seem to some, to be ruined plausibly, and to be ushered to their destruction with panegyric and acclamation; a shameful, though irrefragable argument of the absurd empire and usurpation of words over things; and, that the greatest affairs, and most important interests of the world, are carried on by things, not as they are, but as they are called.

DANIEL DEFOE (1661?-1731)

FROM THE LIFE, ADVENTURES, AND PIRACIES, OF THE FAMOUS

CAPTAIN SINGLETON

We cruised near two years in those seas, chiefly upon the Spaniards; not that we made any difficulty of taking English ships, or Dutch, or French, if they came in our way; and particularly, Captain Wilmot attacked a New England ship bound from the Madeiras to Jamaica, and another bound from New York to Barbados, with provisions; which last was a very happy supply to us. But the reason why we meddled as little with English vessels as we could, was, first, because, if they were ships of any force, we were sure of more resistance from them; and, secondly, because we found the English ships had less booty when taken, for the Spaniards generally had money on board, and that was what we best knew what to do with. Captain Wilmot was, indeed, more particularly cruel when he took any English vessel, that they might not too soon have advice of him in England; and so the men-of-war have orders to look out for him. But this part I bury in silence for the present.

We increased our stock in these two years considerably, having taken 60,000 pieces of eight in one vessel, and 100,000 in another; and being thus first grown rich, we resolved to be strong too, for we had taken a brigantine built at Virginia, an excellent sea-boat, and a good sailer, and able to carry twelve guns; and a large Spanish frigate-built ship, that sailed incomparably well also, and which afterwards, by the help of good carpenters, we fitted up to carry twenty-eight guns. And now we wanted more hands, so we put away for the Bay of Campeachy, not doubting we should ship as many men there as we pleased; and so we did.

Here we sold the sloop that I was in; and Captain Wilmot keeping his own ship, I took the command of the Spanish frigate as captain, and my comrade Harris as eldest lieutenant, and a bold enterprising fellow he was, as any the world afforded. One culverdine was put

into the brigantine, so that we were now three stout ships, well manned, and victualled for twelve months; for we had taken two or three sloops from New England and New York, laden with flour, peas, and barrelled beef and pork, going for Jamaica and Barbados; and for more beef we went on shore on the island of Cuba, where we killed as many black cattle as we pleased, though we had very little salt to cure them.

Out of all the prizes we took here we took their powder and bullet, their small-arms and cutlasses; and as for their men, we always took the surgeon and the carpenter, as persons who were of particular use to us upon many occasions; nor were they always unwilling to go with us, though for their own security, in case of accidents, they might easily pretend they were carried away by force; of which I shall give a pleasant account in the course of my other expeditions.

We had one very merry fellow here, a Quaker, whose name was William Walters, whom we took out of a sloop bound from Pennsylvania to Barbados. He was a surgeon, and they called him doctor; but he was not employed in the sloop as a surgeon, but was going to Barbados to get a berth, as the sailors call it. However, he had all his surgeon's chests on board, and we made him go with us, and take all his implements with him. He was a comic fellow indeed, a man of very good solid sense, and an excellent surgeon; but, what was worth all, very good-humoured and pleasant in his conversation, and a bold, stout, brave fellow too, as any we had among us.

me.

I found William, as I thought, not very averse to go along with us, and yet resolved to do it so that it might be apparent he was taken away by force, and to this purpose he comes to "Friend," says he, "thou sayest I must go with thee, and it is not in my power to resist thee if I would; but I desire thou wilt oblige the master of the sloop which I am on board to certify under his hand, that I was taken away by force and against my will." And this he said with so much satisfaction in his face, that