Part 3

At last, I got into _Yorkshire_, where, beyond _Northallerton_, meeting with a Herdsman, I was almost frighted out of my Wits, for this Fellow was a strange Creature, wonderfully _Goth’d_, and be-_Vandall’d_, even to Barbarity itself. He was really a Clown in grain, an uncultivated Boor, a Beast of the Herd in Humane Shape. I propos’d a Query or two about the Genius of the County; he told me the Soil was cold, and big with Clay, and would doubtless yield a good Harvest of Tobacco-Pipes; and as for the Inhabitants, he said, they were a Pap-Pudding Sort of People, much addicted to that vile Sort of Creature. As he said, I saw a whole Table at a Christening, spread with a Yard of Pudding, and a Balk of Beef, a Ridge at one End and a Furrow at the other; which did so wonderfully work upon the Chaps of the Gossips, and make their Mouths water, that the Godfathers and Godmothers fell furiously to Snouting for some few Morsels; mean while the two ear’d Pitcher, that stood upon the Bench, was Mr. _Prynn’d_ in Scuffle, that is, lost a Lug in the Fray; and as I was afterwards inform’d, the Distaff lost a Lock or two of its flaxen Perriwig. The Women of this Country are very coming, and are as great Breeders, as any of our _English Quakers_; and as for the Men, they are naturally born Thieves, being as dextrous Rogues at Horse-Stealing as a Serjeant at the _Poultry_, or _Woodstreet-Compter_ in selling Minutes dearer than a Watchmaker. But among rational Wonders in a Village, where I say, the most remarkable ~WONDER~ was an eminent Cot-Quean, a meer Woman in the Habit of a Man, a Kind of _Mol Cut-Purse_ Creature, an Epicene Animal of a twisted Gender, who had a Petticoat Soul in a trunk-breech’d Body, and scandaliz’d Virility, by Skill in Housewifery. He spun (the Neighbours said) like a Spider, and made his Wheel giddy by a swift _Vertigo_. He was a learned Craftsman in the making of Diet, a notable Food-Framer, who buffeted Cream, till he frighted it into a Consistence, and then knocking it into Butter, squeez’d it afterwards with Dexterity of Fist. He was also endow’d with the Gift of tossing Pancakes, and had a wonderful Knack at tempering the Materials of a Bag-Pudding, insomuch, that he surpass’d all the Dairy-Maids in the Milk-Pan Accomplishments; and was also excellently well qualify’d for a Meal-Tub Office. Here I tasted of the Hospitality of this fœmasculine Wight, who spread a Jointstool with several Sorts of Viands, which though not very delicate, yet the Variety might attone and make amends for their Meanness. Here was the _Epidermis_ of a Hog, the outward Skin, call’d the Sword of Bacon, which was infected with the Jaundies, for it look’d very yellow; next, was the Hull of a Pescod, plunder’d of its Pease, and corn’d with Salt; some broken Fragments of Sheeps Trotters, _St. Laurenc’d_ on a Gridiron; the minc’d Spurs of a bootless Cock, a skin’d Quadrant of soft Cheese, well sawc’d with the Butt-ends of forked Scallions; and the mouldy Reversion of an antiquated Loaf, dipt in the Verdure Watercresses Pottage, which afforded me the Refreshment of a pretty Collation: After which I went to Bed, and slept very sound till next Morning. When, getting that Day, into _Newark_ upon _Trent_, _Nottinghamshire_, I was no sooner arriv’d into the Navel of the Town, but I saw such an Assembly of Provision as represented a Market, which was unhappily disturb’d by an unfortunate Accident; for a certain Bull of an uncertain Man, having mistaken his Box, and taken Pepper in the Nose instead of Snuff, and being enrag’d and heated by Virtue of the Spice, took a frisk about the Cross, and empty’d by his Ramble all Stalls and Panniers; so that this brisk Customer made a scrambling kind of Dinner for the whole County; for the Mob, _alias_ the civiliz’d Rabble, was riding upon one anothers Backs for Viands and Booty, and was tumbling among the Ruins of Bakers, Butchers, and Costermongers.

Hence I made a Pilgrimage to _Grantham_ in _Lincolnshire_, where a little out of Town I over took a Fellow, who began to strike up with his Pipe, and thinking he had but one, he presently perceiv’d it to be multiply’d into an Organ, and wonder’d (with the Bumpkin that pull’d at the Bellows) that he had so much Harmony in him. For you must know hereabouts dwelt a Thing call’d an _Eccho_, who as soon as she heard _Sol_, _fa_, whip! she improv’d the Melody into Noise and Consort; presently increasing those single Notes into the whole _Gamut_; and most neatly play’d the Wag with the Tail of his Voice, being a very pretty Songster, that sings well by the Ear. But leaving the Piper by himself to solace with the tatling Reverberation of Voice, I proceeded on my Journey into _Rutlandshire_, the least County in _England_, where at _Oakham_, the Shire-Town, is a Custom, that when a Nobleman comes on Horseback within its Precincts, the Inhabitants make him pay the Homage of a Shoe from his Horse, or take Money for it. And so exorbitant is this Custom grown now, that if a Lady, be she as tall as long _Meg_ of _Westminster_, or as short as the little Woman, that was carried formerly about the Country in a Box, as fat as the Royal Sovereign the largest first Rate Fire-Ship that sails _Drury-Lane_, and the narrow Seas contiguous to it, or as lank as _Pharaoh_’s lean Kine, they would swear she was a _Flander_’s Mare, and presently take toll from her Foot. This Sharpness hath made most of the _Rutlandshire_ People, much addicted to the Vice of Theft; every Thing sticks to their pitchy Fingers; and they have such an attractive Virtue, that wherever they come, all Things trot after the Magnetism of their Persons. A Fellow squating upon a Criket in a Room I was in, and rising up from his Seat, the Stool on a Sudden (as if tackt to his Backside) immediately march’d after him, to the great Amazement of the Woman of the House, who did not suspect, that his Bum had Hands, or that her Stool so nimbly could have us’d its Legs. Another espying a Cylinder of Bag-Pudding pretty Thick in the Waste, lolling upon the Table, whilst the Hostess turn’d her Back, in the very twinkling of her Head, pocuss’d it into Fob, and so shrouded its Dimensions into a second Bag. Moreover observing a joulter headed Fellow, looking very wishfully at my Head, fearing he had some Design upon what few Brains I had, to furnish his own empty Noddle; I presently paid my Reckoning, and made the best of my Way for _London_; where I was no sooner arriv’d, but perceiving most People murmuring at the great Indulgence then extended to the _Dissenters_, I composed (at the earnest Request of some Friends) the following Lines on Toleration.

_~Religion!~ Now a meer fantastick Name, The ~Heathens~ Glory, but the ~Christians~ Shame; A Cloak for ~Hyprocites~, the Tool of State, And, to decoy dull Fools, the ~Levites Bait~; Thy ~Lustre~ was not tarnish’d in the Time When ~Vice~ was ill, and ~Virtue~ was no Crime? When holy Folks from ~Sin~ for Refuge fled, And no ~Dissention~ in Opinions bred. In the first ~Infancy~ of humane Race, The World was overshadowed with ~Grace~; The very Light of Nature ~Goodness~ taught, And humble Vot’ries to the ~Altar brought~; Where ~Hecatombs~, no longer doom’d to live, Sincere ~Devotion~ did to Heaven give. Again, the ~Jews~ were not so very blind, But they in ~Rites~ and ~Types cou’d Blessings find~; ~Mosaic~ Customs, and ~Levitic Rules~, Was all the Doctrine of the ~Rabbins~ Schools: In mystic Rites, and ceremonial Laws, With ~GOD~ and ~Angels~ they cou’d plead their Cause. But now the ~Temple-Veil~ is drawn aside, Which did the Truth in ~Hieroglyphicks hide~, The great ~Messiah~, by a wond’rous Birth, From ~Heaven~ came, to preach to Men on Earth; Whose sacred ~Sermons~ shew’d the certain Way, How all the World ~JEHOVAH~ must obey: And by his ~seamless Garment~ we may see, One only ~Faith~ does please the ~Deity~. So ~Toleration~’s but ~a Wile, to draw Dissenters~ from the ~Gospel~ and the ~Law~; But none by such ~Indulgence~ will be shamm’d, But ~Fools, that will in spite of Fate be d⸺’d~._

THE

Comical PILGRIM,

OR,

_Travels thro’ WALES_.

Having had a Suit of Law in Chancery, which was lost thro’ my Lawyers Mismanagement, at the Charge of twenty five Pounds out of Pocket, I could not forbear making the following Observations on the Unhappiness of those People who go to Law.

Some are so zealous to ruin one another, that _Westminster-Hall_ is every Term made the Place of Destruction. They fasten upon, worry and tear one another; and he that gets the better, generally pays so dear for his Victory that he had better have sat down by the Loss. Not that I would, with the _Socinians_, stretch that Command of our Saviour to his Disciples, to let the Coat go after the Cloak, and make it a Sin against the Gospel, for Christians to go to Law, any farther, than that they should not contend for Trifles. _Christianity_ lays no Body open to be abus’d, and impos’d upon, where a regular Remedy may be had. It forbids doing as we would not be done by, and obliges us to bearing and forbearing, rather than to be litigious; but takes away no Body’s Property, nor gives so much Countenance to Injustice, as to disarm the oppress’d from recovering their Right. Had going to Law been a Crime in itself, it had never been permitted to the _Jews_. They were allow’d it, and had Courts by divine Appointment erected for the Determination, of what belong’d to every Man. And it is too much for a few singular Dissenters upon a Text, to take upon themselves the putting a Bar to _Christian_ Liberty, which in all Ages has been admitted. Nor can we see here that these Precepts of the Sermon upon the Mount, be confin’d as some would have them, to the first Ages only: That what was legal in those Days, it is not the same now. It seems to be from too much Inclination to the World, such Expositions have been set up, that make a Difference in Times and Seasons, as if the Precepts of the Gospel were not always of the same Obligation; and we could excuse ourselves in the Contempt of them, because we are not the Persons they were immediately deliver’d to.

Tho’ the litigious Humour of some Men richly deserve a chargeable Remedy, there is yet a Commiseration due sometimes to their Antagonist. A Man may, whether he will or not, be engag’d in these bloody Conflicts at the Suit of his Neighbour’s Pride or Malice. And since the most peaceable Temper may be oblig’d to complain of Oppression, or answer the Charge of Picque and Revenge; ’tis Pity but Justice were to be obtain’d at a cheaper Rate, and a slight Wound may be cur’d without Amputation, which nothing but a Gangrene can justify. We could wish the Law were less chargeable; that seeking Right were not as bad as suffering Wrong: That the Avenues to Justice were not to be set with Robbers, that a Man must lose one Purse to recover another, and be stript into the Bargain. _Justice_ (we are told) should be blind, and so we think she is, when she can’t see the exorbitant Fees of her Attendants. When to be let in and let out, costs so much Oppression, nothing could have been severer. When the Man that’s summon’d to answer in a litigious Suit, must go thro’ so many Toils, and be so often spung’d in his Passage, he might as well have pass’d for Guilty, as pleaded Innocence: Like the Christians in _Turkey_, who pay double Taxes for their Religion, and hire infidel Moderation to connive at their Patriarch’s Jurisdiction. Why these Imposts were laid upon the Road to Justice, we never could understand. How that can be made out, we are much at a Loss. Which of the liberal Arts or Sciences thrives upon the Fees of Door-Keepers? Is copying and Abbreviation so essential a Point to Learning, a Nation could not have maintain’d a Character without it? Are so many Lines a Sheet, and so many Words in a Line, so Mathematical a Substraction of ones Money, that the Credit of the Nation must rise in Proportion to the Losses of the poor Meagre, wasted _Culprit_? We are told too ’tis upon a politick Account, to prevent Contention: That the more difficult is the Way to Justice, the more People are inclin’d to be quiet. If the Courts were open to every Grievance, there would be Complaints without End. A Hog could not go thro’ a Stone Yard, but the Law must be rais’d against the Trespasser. A Man could not be an Hour without a _Subpœna_ or Attachment, if there was Room for every Body’s Impertinence. ’Twould prevent Contention as effectually, if the Person in Fault were punish’d; if paying sufficient Cost to the Adversary or Fine, were inflicted by the Court upon a litigious Plaintiff, or roguish Defendant.

As the Cause stands, the Law is a Weapon for the Proud, and revengeful. These may be in the Right, at least have their Revenge, if their Purse be the longest. So chargeable have been the Methods of bringing Oppressors to Account, so expensive the Armour to defend the Innocent, that one may think the first Loss had been the best, and the other wish he had let the Coat go to him that had taken away the Cloak. There’s a Revolution indeed of Estates, and where the Law has broke one Family, it has rais’d another. If the Desolation the Law has made, were recorded, and the Ensigns of the Orphans and Widows were hung up, whose forlorn Relations have been press’d into the Service, there would be no Room for those brought from the _Danube_ and _Ramellies_. ’Tis true, much may be said in Favour of a mistaken Client, in Excuse of Ignorance, Passion, and the like: But where a Man engages in a Cause palpably litigious and unjust, he becomes a Party to the Injustice, and deserves at least equal Punishment with him he appears for. _Thou sawest a Thief, and consentedst unto him_, is chargeable upon the Pleader, as a Person concern’d. Should these Maintainers of Learning be mercenary, and like Sergeants at the _Compter_, gape at every Retainer? Should they have an Indulgence to cross-bite an Evidence, to abuse the Adversary, and rip up the Misfortunes of his Family, and belch a few Witticisms instead of Arguments? How shall the World maintain Reverence to their Opinion? How shall we take them for the Guides of Conscience, set aside the receiv’d Interpretation of the Law, and believe them when they say, _The Case is alter’d_? I shall say no more upon this Point, but only use these Words of our Saviour, _Woe unto you also, ye Lawyers: For ye lade Men with Burdens grievous to be born, and ye yourselves touch not the Burdens with one of your Fingers. Wo unto you Lawyers: For ye have taken away the Key of Knowledge: Ye enter’d not in yourselves, and they that were entring in, ye hindred._

Being quite surfeited with seeing the Legerdemain, or _hocus pocus_ Tricks of Madam _Astræa_, _alias_ Justice, the Day after _Trinity-Term_ being, drest with _Aurora_, nay before she had put on her _Indian_ Gown, I set out with the Sun in order to take a Pilgrimage into _Wales_, who bearing me Company but little while, withdrew into an Appartment behind a Cloud, at whose Absence, the Heavens frowning and contracting their Brows, did presently fall a crying, and wept such plentiful Showers of Tears that they moistned my Skin with the Deluge of their Grief. At the End of 8 or 9 Days, I reach’d _Wales_, which is the most monstrous Limb in the whole Body of Geography; for ’tis generally reported to be without a Middle, or if it hath a Navel, it is yet a _Terra incognita_; for I never could find that ever any Man dwelt there, the Natives confessing themselves only Borderers. Surely the Reason why they do so much affect the Circumference of their Country, and abominate the Centre, is, because they are asham’d of the Dominion; and indeed, ’tis a Sign they have but a little Kindness for their Nation, who (like unnatural Sons) run from their Mother their Country, and when out of her Embraces, never return again. A _Welshman_, when once abroad, hath no more Tendency Home, than a Stone an Inclination to fall upward: He will trot o’er the Globe, and rather endure the Affliction of any Exile, than the cruel Punishment of being banish’d Home; if he is once on this Side _Dee_, neither Hunger, nor Husks, nor any Kind of Hardship shall drive him on the other.

No sooner had I set my Feet upon _Welsh_ Turf, but in a little Time I found the Country was tuckt in on all Sides with the Sea, except on the East, on which Part it was ditch’d in from _England_ by that notable Delver, King _Offa_, King of the _Mercians_: Over this Dike, if any _Welshman_ chance to skip with his Sword by his Side, by King _Harold_’s Law, he was to lose a Branch of his Body, _i. e._ his right Arm was lopt off by the King’s Officers. Some think it had its Name from its Godfather _Idwallo_, Son to _Cadwallader_, who with a small Crew of _Britons_, at the Arrival of the _Saxons_, hid themselves in this Corner. Others suppose them to be the Spawn of the _Gauls_, from whom they seem to be but a few _Aps_ remov’d; _ap Galloys_, _ap Gauls_, _ap Wallois_, _ap Wales_.

As for the Inhabitants, they are a pretty Sort of Creatures, which when I saw, I was so far from stroaking them with the Palms of Love, that I was almost ready to buffet them with the Fist of Indignation. They are a rude People, and want much Instruction. Not one _Welshman_ is sharp, unless his Mother happens to pour Vinegar into his Ear, when young. When I consider the Soil from whence they sprang, and the Desarts, and Mountains wherein they wander, I cannot but think, that greater Pains should be taken in cultivating and manuring, in disciplining, and taming them, in Regard ’tis harder for a Bearward to teach Civility to the Beasts of _Africk_, than those who come from a more mannerly Country. I have been inform’d that they were dug from a Quarry, and that they dwell in a stony Land; so that if we compare this Kingdom to a Man, as some do _Italy_ to a Man’s Leg, they inhabit the very Testicles of the Nation. And I pray what are those but the vilest of Creatures that breed as well in the Privities of the greater _British_ World, as those that are hatcht in the _Pudenda_ of the lesser? But whether _Welshmen_ are the _Aborigines_ of their Country, as Crab-Lice are the _Autocthones_ of theirs, and proceed only (like them) from the Excrements of their Soil, I shall not here dispute. They are of a boorish Behaviour, of a savage Physiognomy; the Shabbiness of their Bodies, and the Baoticalness of their Souls, and that, which cannot any otherwise be exprest, the _Welchness_ of both, will fright a Man as fast from them, as the Odness of their Persons invites one to behold them. Some of them are such rude and indigested Lumps, so far from being Men, that they can scarce be advanc’d into living Creatures; nay they are such unmanageable Materials, that they can scarce be hewn into the Shape of Blocks; much Labour and Art is requir’d therefore to make them Statues.

The whole Nation (like a _German_ Family) is of one Quality; for as every Lord’s Son is a Lord in _Germany_, so every one is crown’d with the Title of Gentleman here; so that hur Country is a good Pasture for an Herald to bite in. In their Travels they care not much that their Horses should drink with a Toast, as appears by the which a _Shinkin_ discover’d, whom his quaffing Beast had pitch-pol’d into a River. Udsplutter-a-nails quoth he in great Fury, what cannot hur drink without a Toast? He took it much in dudgeon, that the Jade should be so bold as to make a Sop of his Master.

The Materials of his Apparel are usually a well shagg’d Freeze, so that we cannot call it sleepy, being fleec’d with a Nap like any Sheep-Skin: It affords excellent Harbour to the Vermin of his Body, which whether it be stockt with Store of Joicements of them, he commonly signifies by the Symbol of a Shrug. The Perfection of a _Welshman_’s Equipage, the Cream (as it were) of his Accoutrements, and that which compleats ever his most festival Attire, is (as the Story goes) an old Sword of hur nown breeding, which hur hath brought up from a Tagger: And this he can brandish with much Valour against the tremenduous on-set of dragooning Bees; a kind of Enemy which the Taffy is much afraid of, in Regard he is always arm’d with a Pike in’s Reer, which once upon a Time fastening in his Forehead, broach’d such a Pore in his Physiognomy, that he could never endure those hum-buzzing Gentlemen (as he calls them) in yellow Doublets.

The Country is mountainous, and yields pretty Handsome clambering for Goats, and hath Variety of Precipice to break ones Neck; which a Man may sooner do than fill his Belly, the Soil being barren, and an excellent Place to breed a Famine in. It is reported of _Campania_, that it was the most noble Region in the World, the Air pleasant, the Soil fertil, the Theatre of _Bacchus_ and _Ceres_, where they were at fisty-cuffs for the Preheminence: But I perceiv’d no such Scuffle in _Wales_; for those Deities are so far from fighting there, that I could not discern they were so much as ever there; there being scarce Water and Oatmeal to give a Man Being. I could not expect _Egypt_ and the _Canaries_ Buts and Granaries to give me a well Being: There is no _Canaan_ to be found in a Desart. As for the Diet of a _Briton_, a good Mess of Flummery, and a Pair of Eggs, he rejoyces at, as a Feast, especially if he may close his Stomach with toasted Cheese, for a Morsel of which he hath a great Kindness. You may see him pictur’d sometimes with that Crevice in his Head call’d a Mouth, charg’d at both Corners with a Cresent of Cheese, and himself a Cock-Horse on a red Herring, and his Hat adorn’d with a Plume of Leeks: Good edible Equipage! Which when hunger pinches, he makes bold to nibble; he first eats his Cheese and his Leeks together, and for second Course he devours his Horse. But he never much cared for a Sop, since once upon a Time it drank up all his Drink, and would not club to pay his Shot.

The _Cambro-Britons_ are great Admirers of heroick Actions, and much Honour the Memory of famous Atchievements; insomuch, that rather than a dead-doing Man shall perish in Oblivion, they will eternize his Memory by the Monument of a Straw, or some such inconsiderable Trifle; as appears by the famous Example of that Saint of their Country, Bishop _David_, who being a pert Fighter, and having soundly basted and swadled their Foes, is at this Day consecrated to Posterity by the Trophy of a Leek; and smells as rank of Renown from that vegetable Preservative that embalms his Fame, as they do of a Scallion that carry it about for his Glory. Their Hats are set with this anniversary Badge, and Emblem of Honour and Triumph, on the first of _March_, which Day hath been christen’d by his Name, and being dubb’d an Holyday, hath worn yearly a black Livery in the Almanack.

Nevertheless, the _Welchmen_ being cursedly thick-scull’d, they are so far from being Plotters, that they swear they will never fight for any King upon Earth, but the Prince of _Wales_; because there can be no true Royal Blood running in the Veins of any great Man, but what borrows his Title from their Country, let him be born where he will: And considering what wicked plotting Times we now live in, no Body can blame them for their Cautiousness of being hang’d; for tho’ it is a Death natural to them, yet they say, sleeping in a whole Skin is best. Not that they value hanging, but only they abhor the Death, unless the Office is perform’d a by a _Welch_ Hangman, instead of an _English_ one.