The _Mortgager_ and _Mortgage_ differ the one from the other, not more in length of purse, than the _Jester_ and _Jeste_ do, in that of memory. But in this the comparison between them runs, as the scholiasts call it, upon all-four; which, by the bye, is upon one or two legs more than some of the best of _Homer's_ can pretend to; --namely, That the one raises a sum, and the other a laugh at your expence, and thinks no more about it. Interest, however, still runs on in both cases; --the periodical or accidental payments of it, just serving to keep the memory of the affair alive; till, at length, in some evil hour, --pop comes the creditor upon each, and by demanding principal upon the spot, together with full interest to the very day, makes them both feel the full extent of their obligations.
As the reader (for I hate your _ifs_) has a thorough knowledge of human nature, I need not say more to satisfy him, that my HERO could not go on at this rate without some slight experience of these incidental mementos. To speak the truth, he had wantonly involved himself in a multitude of small book-debts of this stamp, which, notwithstanding _Eugenius's_ frequent advice, he too much disregarded; thinking, that as not one of them was contracted thro' any malignancy; --but, on the contrary, from an honesty of mind, and a mere jocundity of humour, they would all of them be cross'd out in course.
_Eugenius_ would never admit this; and would often tell him, that one day or other he would certainly be reckoned with; and he would often add, in an accent of sorrowful apprehension, --to the uttermost mite. To which _Yorick_, with his usual carelessness of heart, would as often answer with a pshaw! --and if the subject was started in the fields--with a hop, skip, and a jump at the end of it; but if close pent up in the social chimney-corner, where the culprit was barricado'd in, with a table and a couple of armchairs, and could not so readily fly off in a tangent, --_Eugenius_ would then go on with his lecture upon discretion in words to this purpose, though somewhat better put together.
Trust me, dear _Yorick_, this unwary pleasantry of thine will sooner or later bring thee into scrapes and difficulties, which no after-wit can extricate thee out of. ----In these sallies, too oft, I see, it happens, that a person laughed at, considers himself in the light of a person injured, with all the rights of such a situation belonging to him; and when thou viewest him in that light too, and reckons up his friends, his family, his kindred and allies, ----and musters up with them the many recruits which will list under him from a sense of common danger; ----'tis no extravagant arithmetick to say, that for every ten jokes, --thou hast got an hundred enemies; and till thou hast gone on, and raised a swarm of wasps about thine ears, and art half stung to death by them, thou wilt never be convinced it is so.
I cannot suspect it in the man whom I esteem, that there is the least spur from spleen or malevolence of intent in these sallies ----I believe and know them to be truly honest and sportive: --But consider, my dear lad, that fools cannot distinguish this, --and that knaves will not: and thou knowest not what it is, either to provoke the one, or to make merry with the other: ----whenever they associate for mutual defence, depend upon it, they will carry on the war in such a manner against thee, my dear friend, as to make thee heartily sick of it, and of thy life too.
Revenge from some baneful corner shall level a tale of dishonour at thee, which no innocence of heart or integrity of conduct shall set right. ----The fortunes of thy house shall totter, --thy character, which led the way to them, shall bleed on every side of it, --thy faith questioned, --thy works belied, --thy wit forgotten, --thy learning trampled on. To wind up the last scene of thy tragedy, CRUELTY and COWARDICE, twin ruffians, hired and set on by MALICE in the dark, shall strike together at all thy infirmities and mistakes: ----The best of us, my dear lad, lie open there, ----and trust me, ----trust me, _Yorick, when to gratify a private appetite, it is once resolved upon, that an innocent and an helpless creature shall be sacrificed, 'tis an easy matter to pick up sticks enough from any thicket where it has strayed, to make a fire to offer it up with_.
_Yorick_ scarce ever heard this sad vaticination of his destiny read over to him, but with a fear stealing from his eye, and a promissory look attending it, that he was resolved, for the time to come, to ride his tit with more sobriety. --But, alas, too late! --a grand confederacy, with ***** and ***** at the head of it, was formed before the first prediction of it. --The whole plan of the attack, just as _Eugenius_ had foreboded, was put in execution all at once, --with so little mercy on the side of the allies, --and so little suspicion in _Yorick_, of what was carrying on against him, --that when he thought, good easy man! full surely preferment was o' ripening, --they had smote his root, and then he fell, as many a worthy man had fallen before him.
_Yorick_, however, fought it out with all imaginable gallantry for some time; till, overpowered by numbers, and worn out at length by the calamities of the war, --but more so, by the ungenerous manner in which it was carried on, --he threw down the sword; and though he kept up his spirits in appearance to the last, he died, nevertheless, as was generally thought, quite broken-hearted.
What inclined _Eugenius_ to the same opinion was as follows:
A few hours before _Yorick_ breathed his last, _Eugenius_ stept in with an intent to take his last sight and last farewell of him. Upon his drawing _Yorick's_ curtain, and asking how he felt himself, _Yorick_ looking up in his face took hold of his hand, --and after thanking him for the many tokens of his friendship to him, for which, he said, if it was their fate to meet hereafter, --he would thank him again and again, --he told him, he was within a few hours of giving his enemies the slip for ever. --I hope not, answered _Eugenius_, with tears trickling down his cheeks, and with the tenderest tone that ever man spoke. --I hope not, _Yorick_, said he. ----_Yorick_ replied, with a look up, and a gentle squeeze of _Eugenius's_ hand, and that was all, --but it cut _Eugenius_ to his heart, --Come--come, _Yorick_, quoth _Eugenius_, wiping his eyes, and summoning up the man within him, --my dear lad, be comforted, --let not all thy spirits and fortitude forsake thee at this crisis when thou most wants them; ----who knows what resources are in store, and what the power of God may yet do for thee? ----_Yorick_ laid his hand upon his heart, and gently shook his head; --For my part, continued _Eugenius_, crying bitterly as he uttered the words, --I declare I know not, _Yorick_, how to part with thee, and would gladly flatter my hopes, added _Eugenius_, chearing up his voice, that there is still enough left of thee to make a bishop, and that I may live to see it. ----I beseech thee, _Eugenius_, quoth _Yorick_, taking off his night-cap as well as he could with his left hand, ----his right being still grasped close in that of _Eugenius_, ----I beseech thee to take a view of my head. --I see nothing that ails it, replied _Eugenius_. Then, alas! my friend, said _Yorick_, let me tell you, that 'tis so bruised and mis-shapened with the blows which ***** and *****, and some others have so unhandsomely given me, in the dark, that I might say with _Sancho Pana_, that should I recover, and "Mitres thereupon be suffered to rain down from heaven as thick as hail, not one of them would fit it." ----_Yorick's_ last breath was hanging upon his trembling lips ready to depart as he uttered this: ----yet still it was uttered with something of a _Cervantick_ tone; ----and as he spoke it, _Eugenius_ could perceive a stream of lambent fire lighted up for a moment in his eyes; ----faint picture of those flashes of his spirit, which (as _Shakespeare_ said of his ancestor) were wont to set the table in a roar!
_Eugenius_ was convinced from this, that the heart of his friend was broke: he squeezed his hand, ----and then walked softly out of the room, weeping as he walked. _Yorick_ followed _Eugenius_ with his eyes to the door, --he then closed them, --and never opened them more.
[Illustration (full-page black tombstone)]
He lies buried in the corner of his churchyard, in the parish of ------, under a plain marble slab, which his friend _Eugenius_, by leave of his executors, laid upon his grave, with no more than these three words of inscription, serving both for his epitaph and elegy. ____________________ | | | Alas, poor YORICK! | |____________________|
Ten times a day has _Yorick's_ ghost the consolation to hear his monumental inscription read over with such a variety of plaintive tones, as denote a general pity and esteem for him; ----a foot-way crossing the churchyard close by the side of his grave, --not a passenger goes by without stopping to cast a look upon it, --and sighing as he walks on,
Alas, poor YORICK!
The Mortgager and the Jester differ in this: the one raises a sum, and the other a laugh at your expense, and they think no more about it. Interest, however, still runs on in both cases; the periodical or accidental payments of it just serving to keep the memory of the affair alive; till, at length, in some evil hour - pop comes the creditor upon each, demanding full payment on the spot.
As the reader (for I hate your ifs) has a thorough knowledge of human nature, I need not say more than that my Hero, Yorick, had some slight experience of this. He had wantonly involved himself in a multitude of small debts of this sort, which, despite Eugenius's frequent advice, he disregarded; thinking that as his jests had been made not through any malignancy, but, on the contrary, from honesty and jocund humour, he would not be held to account for them.
Eugenius would often tell him sorrowfully that one day or other he would certainly be reckoned with. To which Yorick, with his usual carelessness, would answer with a pshaw! - and if the subject was started in the fields, with a hop, skip, and a jump at the end of it. But if pent up in the social chimney-corner, where he was barricadoed in with a table and a couple of armchairs, and could not escape, Eugenius would then lecture him in this way:
'Trust me, dear Yorick, this jesting will sooner or later bring thee into scrapes and difficulties, from which thy wit will not rescue thee. A person laughed at, considers himself an injured man; and when he counts up his friends, family, and allies, 'tis no extravagance to say that for every ten jokes, thou hast got an hundred enemies; yet till thou hast raised a swarm of wasps about thine ears, and art half stung to death, thou wilt never be convinced it is so.
'I know that there is no ill-will in your jests - I believe them to be honest and playful. But consider, my dear lad, that fools cannot distinguish this, and that knaves will not: and depend upon it, they will wage war in such a manner against thee, my dear friend, as to make thee heartily sick of it, and of thy life too.
'Revenge from some baneful corner shall tell a tale of dishonour about thee, which no innocence of heart or integrity of conduct shall set right. The fortunes of thy house shall totter - thy character shall bleed: thy faith questioned, thy works belied, thy wit forgotten, thy learning trampled on. Cruelty and Cowardice, twin ruffians, hired and set on by Malice in the dark, shall strike together at thy weaknesses. Trust me, Yorick, when it is decided that an innocent creature shall be sacrificed, 'tis easy to pick up enough sticks from any thicket where it has strayed, to make a fire to burn it on.'
Yorick scarce ever heard this sad lecture without fear and promises to act more soberly. But, alas, too late! - A grand confederacy, with ***** and ***** at its head, was already formed. The plan of the attack, just as Eugenius had foreboded, was put in execution with so little mercy on the side of the allies, and so little suspicion in Yorick of what was going on, that when he thought, good easy man! that surely preferment was ripening - they cut him down at root, and then he fell.
Yorick fought gallantly for some time; till, overpowered by numbers, and worn out, he threw down the sword; and though he kept up his spirits in appearance to the last, he died, it seems, quite broken-hearted.
What inclined Eugenius to think this was as follows:
A few hours before Yorick breathed his last, Eugenius took his final farewell of him. Upon his drawing Yorick's curtain, and asking how he felt, Yorick looked up in his face and grasped his hand. After thanking him for the many tokens of his friendship, Yorick told him he was within a few hours of giving his enemies the slip for ever.
'I hope not,' answered Eugenius tenderly, with tears trickling down his cheeks.
Yorick replied only with a look and a gentle squeeze of Eugenius's hand, which cut him to the heart.
'Come, come, Yorick,' said he, 'my dear lad, be comforted, let not thy fortitude forsake thee now; who knows what the power of God may yet do for thee?'
Yorick gently shook his head.
Eugenius continued, crying bitterly, 'I know not, Yorick, how to part with thee. I hope that thou mayst still live long enough to be made a bishop.'
'I beseech thee, Eugenius,' said Yorick, taking off his night-cap with his left hand, his right still grasping that of Eugenius, 'I beseech thee to take a view of my head.'
'I see nothing wrong with it.'
'Alas! my friend,' said Yorick, ''tis so bruised and mis-shapen with the blows which ***** and ***** have given me in the dark, that I might say with Sancho Panza, that should I recover, and bishops' mitres "rain down from heaven as thick as hail, not one of them would fit."'
Yorick's last breath was hanging upon his trembling lips as he uttered this: yet still it was said with something of a Cervantick tone; and as he spoke, Eugenius perceived a fire light up for a moment in his eyes; a faint reflection of those flashes of his spirit, which (as Shakespeare said of his ancestor) were wont to set the table in a roar!
Eugenius was convinced from this, that his friend's heart was broken: he squeezed his hand, and then walked softly out of the room, weeping. Yorick followed Eugenius with his eyes to the door: he then closed them, and never opened them more.
He lies buried in the corner of his churchyard, in the parish of ___, under a plain marble slab, which his friend Eugenius laid upon his grave, with no more than these three words of inscription serving both for his epitaph and elegy.
ALAS, POOR YORICK!
Ten times a day has Yorick's ghost the consolation of hearing this inscription read over with a variety of plaintive tones, denoting pity and esteem: no-one goes by the grave without stopping to cast a look upon it, and sighing as he walks on,
' Alas, poor Yorick!'
Book 1 - Chapter 12