before I had been in prison eight | tyrants, money being the all-in-all mouths, died raving mad! At that time delusion was at its height. The war was profitable to many persons. The base papermoney served its end: that is, to give a florid appearance to trade and agriculture. The nation was mad with what it deemed prosperity. The commerce of all nations was laid under contribution by the Boroughmongers. There never was so gloomy a period for the friends of law and justice. But, I did not despair. On the contrary, I never had hopes more lively or thoughts more gay. The time, which the tyrants had given; the "abstraction from Society," as the old, hard-hearted ruffian in the den called it, or, rather the abstraction from rural affairs, in which the barbarous villains had placed me, enabled me to reflect on, and to examine into, the real state of their affairs. That reflec- | tion and that examination led to the series of papers, entitled "Paper against Gold," which has contributed more than any other effort towards the danger, which the tyrants now experience. We must be patient. We must "cast our bread on the waters." The efforts which destroy tyrannies are, generally, those which have not an immediate effect, visible to all eyes. Sap and mine are better than assault, where the fortress is strong. I was convinced that the nation's best hope was the insolvency of the Borough with a system of corruption. I had long been of opinion, that the Bank-Notes could never be paid in specie; and, in Paper against Gold, I proved that this was the case. That is to say, they never could be paid in specie, without a total breaking up of the whole system of corruption and tyranny. If Corruption attempted to pay, she could not raise the taxes, necessary to pay the interest of her Debt. She could not attempt to pay without putting a stop to all the labours which sustained her and gave her the means of tyrannizing and of making war against freedom. Yet, if she could never pay, without blowing herself up at once, it was clear, that, sooner or later, she must be overwhelmed by her own base paper. Therefore, I, within my prison walls, bent all my force to prove, that she never could pay without blowing herself up by the act of paying. This was a heavy blow for her; for, though the nation took little notice, at the time, of what I said, events went on, as I knew they would, to confirm all my doctrines and predictions. About the time that I was sent to what Corruption thought to be death, or total ruin, the Westminster Wiseacres had before them what they called a Report from a Committee, which, in their gibberish, was called the Bullion Committee. This had been produced by a motion of the out-faction, who pretended to want to make the Bank pay in specie at the end of two years, from 1811. This faction proposed the passing of a law to compel the Bank to pay at the end of two years. The in-faction resisted this, and said, that, though the Bank had ample means, it would be unwise to suffer it to pay, as long as "the tyrant of Europe had the power to disturb all the relationships of Commerce." When peace came, they said, all would put itself to rights again. Then the gold would return as a matter of course. I exposed the folly of this expectation. I proved that it was impossible that the expectation should be realized. I was treated by many as a dreamer. I was, however, convinced that time would confirm all that I had said; and, in that conviction, I enjoyed myself exceedingly. I never enjoyed better health, better spirits, or greater pleasure, than in that prison, in which the Borough tyrants expected me to go mad, pine myself to death, die of contagion, or cut my throat. I had the pleasure to reflect, that I was striking my bloody, ferocious tyrants in their tender part. Call this revengeful if they choose. A pretty doctrine, indeed, is this doctrine of forgiveness. It is cooked up for our use; for the tyrants never use it. Their forgiveness is only a mitigated vengeance. They rob us, and, if we so much as murmer, they scourge us. They compel us to come forth and bear arms in defence of what they call the country; they flog us if we be guilty of a breach of military discipline; they take from us more than the half of our earnings; they deny us any right to choose those who make the laws: and, if we complain, they shut us up in dungeons and keep us there as long as they please in despite of all the laws of the land. This is the manner in which you are treated. Being again at liberty, you publicly threatened vengeance. This was your crime; and now, by the decision of a Special Jury, you are to endure two years more of imprisonment. And this, even this, you are to forgive! Blistered be the tongue that counsels you to such a course! You are young men, and, if you be prudent, vengeance you will have; and, as to what will be prudence on your part I now take the liberty to offer you my opinion. Coolness, patience, sobriety; above all things sobriety. These are necessary even to your health. No man living is more impatient than I, under the suffering of wrong, intentionally done me. The wrong which I felt, when sent to Newgate, was great, very great in itself; but, besides this, it was accompanied with so many provoking circumstances, that, perhaps, no wrong was ever calculated to produce so deep and lasting impression. I did not swear vengeance; I made no vows. To be revenged on the barbarous, base, cowardly, hypocritical ruffians, became instantly an object with me that swallowed up all others. And, was not this right? What would there be to check powerful tyrants, if their victims were to suffer contentedly? Was it not the just vengeance of the oppressed that drove the tyrannical nobles and bloody clergy from France? What but just vengeance was it that drove James the 2nd from England? And, observe, too, that, in this case, the sins of the father were visited upon the children from generation to generation. Why, then, are we not to think of revenge? But, though to seek vengeance became the main object of my life, I did not fly out into vain threats and clamorous curses. I kept my self cool; I calculated patiently upon a ten or twenty years war against the ruffians. That melancholy, mean fellow, DOCTOR JOHNSON, observes, that when à man plants a tree, he begins to think of dying. If this were the fact, is that to prevent the planting of trees? I have been planting of trees in every spot that I have ever occupied, all my life time; and I am now collecting seeds of trees to carry home, and to sow in England next spring. I expect to sit under the shade of the trees, which these seeds will produce; and, if I only see them six inches high, have I not the enjoyment of so much of them? So, in seeking justice on our oppressors: if we die before we have obtained that justice, we enjoy, in the meanwhile, the blows we inflict on them. We enjoy their fears, their embarrassments, their disgrace, their infamy. The ruffian band are now writhing under my błows, given a few months after I was in my prison. I have been dealing them blows from that day to this. All my plans in private life; all my pursuits; all my designs, wishes, and thoughts, have this one great object in view : the overthrow of the ruffian Boroughmongers. If I write grammars, if I write on agriculture; if I sow, plant, or deal in seeds; whatever I do has first in view the destruction of those infamous ty. rants. But, as I said before, I keep myself in good humour. I keep steadily on. If events move slower than I could wish, I labour more sedulously to accelerate their pace. This is what I advise you to do. Sobriety is the first thing; fory without that there can be no healthy body and no sound mind. In the midst of a society, where wine and spirits are considered as of little more value than water, I have lived two years without either, and with no other drink but water, except when I have found it convenient to obtain milk. Not an hour's illness; not a head-ache for an hour; not the smallest ailment; not a restless night; not a drowsy morning have Iknown, during these two famous years of my life. The sun never rises before me. I have always to wait for him to come and give me light to write by, while my mind is in full vigour and while nothing has come to cloud its clearness. At this very moment that I am writing to you, it is not eight o'clock, and I have written thus far before my breakfast, having employed, too, a quarter of an hour in giving directions to my men. All the plans for husbanding our time, are folly, without sobriety. Without sobriety we cannot be industrious; and, without industry, we are no terror to our tyrants. You see what embarrassment the villains are now in. You see how they are puzzled to invent new lies, in order to hide the fact of their irrevokable insolvency, They are at their wit's end. And, what a satisfaction is it to me to reflect, that it is I who have, more than all other men put together, brought them into this state! Very few days of my life have been unhappy; but, if I were not to be happy now, how could I ever be happy? All this I owe to my sobriety; and, therefore, let me exhort you to be sober. You are, I hope; but I am sure you will excuse me for pressing on you the necessity of sobriety. A jail is as good a place for study as any other. To study a man must be confined in some place. It matters little where we are, if we have health and leisure. It is in this case, the mind that works, and not the body. Now is the time for you to become grammarians. In your place I should reason thus: "How shall I be "able most effectually to annoy "the tyrants? By my pen, com"bined with my other means. "How shall I qualify myself, to "use my pen with effect? By "knowing how to write correctly. "How shall I get that know"ledge? By learning Grammar. "Therefore I will learn Gram" mar." Do this, and you will, at the end of the two years, be a great deal more formidable to the ruf fians than you were when they seized hold of you. Besides, you will find, in this study, a source of continual amusement and encouragement. At every stage of your progress, you will feel yourselves more a match for your oppressors; and, long before the close of your studies, you will despise the ruffians even more than you hate them. You have long lives yet to live. You are placed aloft by your sufferings. You start from the most favourable point. And you may, if you will, become men, famous in the annals of England. But, without literary talent, you will be able to do little. Mr. Johnson's pistol was a good thing; but a pen is a great deal better; and the pen you cannot use with effect, without acquired know. ledge. To repine, to revile, to storm, are of no real use. Sailors, in a gale, do not curse the winds and the waves. They mount the yards, reef the sails, lower the masts, and patiently wait the moment when they dare rehoist and un 1 furl. This must be your way of sphere of exertion. Before they imprisoned me, I was now and proceeding, if you mean to arrive safe at the end of your voyage. To execrate the tyrants is right and fitting; but, without exertion against them, execration is folly in the extreme. Say little, think much, and be constantly at work cultivating your minds, that you may be able to inflict vengeance on the oppressors of your country. I, who am old enough, probably, to be the father of you, never despair. Nothing that does not tie my hands, or take my health from me, can make me slacken my efforts in the war against our villains. The difficulties that I have had to struggle with, in order to carry on this war, are not to be described. But, they have never disheartened me for one single moment. I have often been in a state to make it a question with me whether, or not, it was probable that I should end my days in the capacity of a gardener, or common labourer; for, under such an infernal system no man can count upon any thing as a provision for age or sickness. But, never did it occur to me to desist from the strife, in order to insure even bread to eat. My hatred of the Borough villains, and my anxious desire to assist in the infliction of vengeance on them, of my departure for England. have made me more and more But, when I considered the interrigid as to sobriety and abstemious-ruptions which such a removal At every stage of their op. would occasion, and when. I thought of the injury that these and the air of a city might be to my literary labours; I resolved ness. pressions I have become more and more careful to avoid any thing that might tend to narrow my 1 |