A century of English essays : $b An anthology ranging from Caxton to R. L. Stevenson & the writers of our own time
General
A century of English essays : $b An anthology ranging from Caxton to R. L. Stevenson & the writers of our own time
English essays; English literature
As there appeared something reluctantly good in the character of my
companion, I must own it surprised me what could be his motives for
thus concealing virtues which others take such pains to display. I was
unable to repress my desire of knowing the history of a man who thus
seemed to act under continual restraint, and whose benevolence was
rather the effect of appetite than reason.
It was not, however, till after repeated solicitations he thought
proper to gratify my curiosity. "If you are fond," says he, "of
hearing _hair-breadth escapes_, my history must certainly please; for
I have been for twenty years upon the very verge of starving, without
ever being starved.
"My father, the younger son of a good family, was possessed of a small
living in the church. His education was above his fortune, and his
generosity greater than his education. Poor as he was, he had his
flatterers still poorer than himself; for every dinner he gave them,
they returned an equivalent in praise; and this was all he wanted. The
same ambition that actuates a monarch at the head of an army,
influenced my father at the head of his table; he told the story of
the ivy-tree, and that was laughed at; he repeated the jest of the two
scholars and one pair of breeches, and the company laughed at that;
but the story of Taffy in the sedan chair was sure to set the table in
a roar. Thus his pleasure increased in proportion to the pleasure he
gave; he loved all the world, and he fancied all the world loved him.
"As his fortune was but small, he lived up to the very extent of it;
he had no intentions of leaving his children money, for that was
dross; he was resolved they should have learning; for learning, he
used to observe, was better than silver or gold. For this purpose he
undertook to instruct us himself; and took as much pains to form our
morals, as to improve our understanding. We were told that universal
benevolence was what first cemented society; we were taught to
consider all the wants of mankind as our own; to regard the _human
face divine_ with affection and esteem; he wound us up to be mere
machines of pity, and rendered us incapable of withstanding the
slightest impulse made either by real or fictitious distress: in a
word, we were perfectly instructed in the art of giving away thousands
before we were taught the more necessary qualifications of getting a
farthing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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