Chapter xix.

  _Julian appears in the character of a beggar._

  "I now returned to Rome, and was born into a very poor and numerousfamily, which, to be honest with you, procured its livelyhood bybegging. This, if you was never yourself of the calling, you do notknow, I suppose, to be as regular a trade as any other; to have itsseveral rules and secrets, or mysteries, which to learn require perhapsas tedious an apprenticeship as those of any craft whatever.

  "The first thing we are taught is the countenance miserable. This indeednature makes much easier to some than others; but there are none whocannot accomplish it, if they begin early enough in youth, and beforethe muscles are grown too stubborn.

  "The second thing is the voice lamentable. In this qualification too,nature must have her share in producing the most consummate excellence:however, art will here, as in every other instance, go a great way withindustry and application, even without the assistance of genius,especially if the student begins young.

  "There are many other instructions, but these are the most considerable.The women are taught one practice more than the men, for they areinstructed in the art of crying, that is, to have their tears ready onall occasions: but this is attained very easily by most. Some indeedarrive at the utmost perfection in this art with incredible facility.

  "No profession requires a deeper insight into human nature than thebeggar's. Their knowledge of the passions of men is so extensive, that Ihave often thought it would be of no little service to a politician tohave his education among them. Nay, there is a much greater analogybetween these two characters than is imagined; for both concur in theirfirst and grand principle, it being equally their business to delude andimpose on mankind. It must be confessed that they differ widely in thedegree of advantage which they make by their deceit; for, whereas thebeggar is contented with a little, the politician leaves but a littlebehind.

  "A very great English philosopher hath remarked our policy, in takingcare never to address any one with a title inferior to what he reallyclaims. My father was of the same opinion; for I remember when I was aboy, the pope happening to pass by, I tended him with 'Pray, sir;' 'ForGod's sake, sir;' 'For the Lord's sake, sir;'--To which he answeredgravely, 'Sirrah, sirrah, you ought to be whipt for taking the Lord'sname in vain;' and in vain it was indeed, for he gave me nothing. Myfather, overhearing this, took his advice, and whipt me very severely.While I was under correction I promised often never to take the Lord'sname in vain any more. My father then said, 'Child, I do not whip youfor taking his name in vain; I whip you for not calling the pope hisholiness.'

  "If all men were so wise and good to follow the clergy's example, thenuisance of beggars would soon be removed. I do not remember to havebeen above twice relieved by them during my whole state of beggary. Oncewas by a very well-looking man, who gave me a small piece of silver, anddeclared he had given me more than he had left himself; the other was bya spruce young fellow, who had that very day first put on his robes,whom I attended with 'Pray, reverend sir, good reverend sir, consideryour cloth.' He answered, 'I do, child, consider my office, and I hopeall our cloth do the same.' He then threw down some money, and struttedoff with great dignity.

  "With the women I had one general formulary: 'Sweet pretty lady,' 'Godbless your ladyship,' 'God bless your handsome face.' This generallysucceeded; but I observed the uglier the woman was, the surer I was ofsuccess.

  "It was a constant maxim among us, that the greater retinue any onetravelled with the less expectation we might promise ourselves fromthem; but whenever we saw a vehicle with a single or no servant weimagined our booty sure, and were seldom deceived.

  "We observed great difference introduced by time and circumstance in thesame person; for instance, a losing gamester is sometimes generous, butfrom a winner you will as easily obtain his soul as a single groat. Alawyer travelling from his country seat to his clients at Rome, and aphysician going to visit a patient, were always worth asking; but thesame on their return were (according to our cant phrase) untouchable.

  "The most general, and indeed the truest, maxim among us was, that thosewho possessed the least were always the readiest to give. The chief artof a beggar-man is, therefore, to discern the rich from the poor, which,though it be only distinguishing substance from shadow, is by no meansattainable without a pretty good capacity and a vast degree ofattention; for these two are eternally industrious in endeavouring tocounterfeit each other. In this deceit the poor man is more heartily inearnest to deceive you than the rich, who, amidst all the emblems ofpoverty which he puts on, still permits some mark of his wealth tostrike the eye. Thus, while his apparel is not worth a groat, hisfinger wears a ring of value, or his pocket a gold watch. In a word, heseems rather to affect poverty to insult than impose on you. Now thepoor man, on the contrary, is very sincere in his desire of passing forrich; but the eagerness of this desire hurries him to over-act his part,and he betrays himself as one who is drunk by his overacted sobriety.Thus, instead of being attended by one servant well mounted, he willhave two; and, not being able to purchase or maintain a second horse ofvalue, one of his servants at least is mounted on a hired rascallion. Heis not contented to go plain and neat in his cloathes; he thereforeclaps on some tawdry ornament, and what he adds to the fineness of hisvestment he detracts from the fineness of his linnen. Without descendinginto more minute particulars, I believe I may assert it as an axiom ofindubitable truth, that whoever shews you he is either in himself or hisequipage as gaudy as he can, convinces you he is more so than he canafford. Now, whenever a man's expence exceeds his income, he isindifferent in the degree; we had therefore nothing more to do with suchthan to flatter them with their wealth and splendour, and were alwayscertain of success.

  "There is, indeed, one kind of rich man who is commonly more liberal,namely, where riches surprize him, as it were, in the midst of povertyand distress, the consequence of which is, I own, sometimes excessiveavarice, but oftener extreme prodigality. I remember one of these who,having received a pretty large sum of money, gave me, when I begged anobolus, a whole talent; on which his friend having reproved him, heanswered, with an oath, 'Why not? Have I not fifty left?'

  "The life of a beggar, if men estimated things by their real essence,and not by their outward false appearance, would be, perhaps, a moredesirable situation than any of those which ambition persuades us, withsuch difficulty, danger, and often villany, to aspire to. The wants of abeggar are commonly as chimerical as the abundance of a nobleman; forbesides vanity, which a judicious beggar will always apply to withwonderful efficacy, there are in reality very few natures so hardened asnot to compassionate poverty and distress, when the predominancy of someother passion doth not prevent them.

  "There is one happiness which attends money got with ease, namely, thatit is never hoarded; otherwise, as we have frequent opportunities ofgrowing rich, that canker care might prey upon our quiet, as it doth onothers; but our money stock we spend as fast as we acquire it; usuallyat least, for I speak not without exception; thus it gives us mirthonly, and no trouble. Indeed, the luxury of our lives might introducediseases, did not our daily exercise prevent them. This gives us anappetite and relish for our dainties, and at the same time an antidoteagainst the evil effects which sloth, united with luxury, induces on thehabit of a human body. Our women we enjoy with ecstasies at least equalto what the greatest men feel in their embraces. I can, I am assured,say of myself, that no mortal could reap more perfect happiness from thetender passion than my fortune had decreed me. I married a charmingyoung woman for love; she was the daughter of a neighbouring beggar,who, with an improvidence too often seen, spent a very large incomewhich he procured by his profession, so that he was able to give her nofortune down; however, at his death he left her a very well accustomedbegging-hut, situated on the side of a steep hill, where travellerscould not immediately escape from us, and a garden adjoining, being thetwenty-eighth part of an acre, well planted. She made the best ofwives, bore me nineteen children, and nev
er failed, unless on herlying-in, which generally lasted three days, to get my supper readyagainst my return home in an evening; this being my favourite meal, andat which I, as well as my whole family, greatly enjoyed ourselves; theprincipal subject of our discourse being generally the boons we had thatday obtained, on which occasions, laughing at the folly of the donorsmade no inconsiderable part of the entertainment; for, whatever might betheir motive for giving, we constantly imputed our success to our havingflattered their vanity, or overreached their understanding.

  "But perhaps I have dwelt too long on this character; I shall conclude,therefore, with telling you that after a life of 102 years' continuance,during all which I had never known any sickness or infirmity but thatwhich old age necessarily induced, I at last, without the least pain,went out like the snuff of a candle.

  "Minos, having heard my history, bid me compute, if I could, how manylies I had told in my life. As we are here, by a certain fatednecessity, obliged to confine ourselves to truth, I answered, I believedabout 50,000,000. He then replied, with a frown, 'Can such a wretchconceive any hopes of entering Elysium?' I immediately turned about,and, upon the whole, was rejoiced at his not calling me back."

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