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built a castle there, which he garrisoned with his Normans, and unhappily I had the misfortune to be one of the number. 'Here we were confined closer than I had been at Dover; for, as the citizens were extremely disaffected, ' we were never suffered to go without the walls of the
castle; nor indeed could we, unless in large bodies, without the utmost danger. We were likewise kept to continual duty, nor could any solicitations prevail with the commanding officer to give me a month's absence to visit my love, from whom I had no opportunity of hearing in all my long absence.
However, in the spring, the people being more quiet, and another officer of a gentler temper succeeding to
the principal command, I obtained leave to go to • Dover ; but alas ! what comfort did my long journey • bring me? I found the parents of my darling in the
utmost misery at her loss; for she had died, about a "week before my arrival, of a consumption, which
they imputed to her pining at my sudden depar6 ture.
'I now fell into the most violent and almost raving fit of despair. I cursed myself, the king, and the whole ' world, which no longer seemed to have any delight for
me. I threw myself on the grave of my deceased love, 6 and lay there without any kind of sustenance for two whole days. At last hunger, together with the persuasions of some people who took pity on me, prevailed • with me to quit that situation, and refresh myself with • food. They then persuaded me to return to my post,
and abandon a place where almost every object I saw • recalled ideas to my mind, which, as they said, I should
endeavour with my utmost force to expel from it. This advice at length succeeded; the rather, as the father • and mother of my beloved refused to see me, looking
on me as the innocent but certain cause of the death of their only child.
The loss of one we tenderly love, as it is one of the ' most bitter and biting evils which attends human life,
so it wants the lenitive which palliates and softens every other calamity ; I mean that great reliever, hope. • No man can be so totally undone, but that he may still
cherish expectation : but this deprives us of all such
comfort, nor can any thing but time alone lessen it. • This, however, in most minds, is sure to work a slow
but effectual remedy; so did it in mine : for, within • a twelvemonth, I was entirely reconciled to my for
tune, and soon after absolutely forgot the object of a • passion from which I had promised myself such extreme
happiness, and in the disappointment of which I had experienced such inconceivable misery.
"At the expiration of the month, I returned to my garrison at Exeter: where I was no sooner arrived than 'I was ordered to march into the north, to oppose a
force there levied by the Earls of Chester and Northumberland. We came to York, where his Majesty pardoned the heads of the rebels, and very severely punished some who were less guilty. It was particu
larly my lot to be ordered to seize a poor man, who had 'never been out of his house, and convey him to prison. 'I detested this barbarity, yet was obliged to execute it; nay, though no reward would have bribed me in a private capacity to have acted such a part, yet so much
sanctity is there in the commands of a monarch, or • general to a soldier, that I performed it without reluct• ance, nor had the tears of his wife and family any prevalence with me. "But this, which was a small piece of mischief in comparison with many of my barbarities afterwards, was however the only one which ever gave me any - uneasiness ; for when the king led us afterwards into Northumberland to revenge those people's having joined with Osborne the Dane in his invasion, and orders were given us to commit what ravages we could, I was forward in fulfilling them, and among some lesser cruelties (I remember it yet with sorrow) I ravished a woman, murdered a little infant playing in her lap,
and then burnt her house. In short, for I have no ' pleasure in this part of my relation, I had my share 'in all the cruelties exercised on those poor wretches; · which were so grievous, that for sixty miles together, between York and Durham, not a single house, church, or any other public or private edifice was left standing.
* We had pretty well devoured the country, when we were ordered to march to the Isle of Ely, to oppose • Hereward, a bold and stout soldier, who had under " him a very large body of rebels, who had the impudence to rise against their king and conqueror (I talk now in the same style I did then) in defence of their liberties, as they called them. These were soon subdued; but as I happened (more to my glory than my comfort) to be posted in that part through which Hereward cut his way, I received a dreadful cut on the forehead, a second on the shoulder, and was run through the body with a pike.
“I languished a long time with these wounds, which made me incapable of attending the king into Scotland. However, I was able to go over with him afterwards into Normandy, in his expedition against Philip, who had taken the opportunity of the troubles in England, to invade that province. Those few Normans who had survived their wounds, and had remained in the Isle of Ely, were all of our nation who went, the rest of his army being all composed of English. In a skirmish
near the town of Mans my leg was broke, and so shattered, that it was forced to be cut off.
"I was now disabled from serving longer in the army; ' and accordingly, being discharged from the service, 'I retired to the place of my nativity, where, in extreme
poverty, and frequent bad health from the many 'wounds I had received, I dragged on a miserable life
to the age of sixty-three; my only pleasure being to recount the feats of my youth, in which narratives I generally exceeded the truth.
It would be tedious and unpleasant to recount to you the several miseries I suffered after my return to
Caen ; let it suffice, they were so terrible, that they 'induced Minos to compassionate me, and notwith
standing the barbarities I had been guilty of in Northumberland, to suffer me to go once more back 6 to earth.'
CHAPTER XXII. What happened to Julian in the person of a Tailor. FORTUNE now stationed me in a character, which the - ingratitude of mankind hath put them on ridiculing,
though they owe to it not only a relief from the "inclemencies of cold, to which they would otherwise be
exposed, but likewise a considerable satisfaction of their vanity. The character I mean was that of a
tailor; which, if we consider it with due attention, 6 must be confessed to have in it great dignity and
importance. For, in reality, who constitutes the different degrees between men but the tailor ? the prince indeed gives the title, but it is the tailor who makes
the man. To his labours are owing the respect of
crowds, and the awe which great men inspire into their • beholders, though these are too often unjustly attributed " to other motives. Lastly, the admiration of the fair is 'most commonly to be placed to his account.
'I was just set up in my trade when I made three suits of fine clothes for King Stephen's coronation. 'I question whether the person, who wears the rich coat, " hath so much pleasure and vanity in being admired in “it as we tailors have from that admiration; and perhaps "a philosopher would say he is not so well entitled to
it. I bustled on the day of the ceremony through the crowd, and it was with incredible delight I heard several say, as my clothes walked by, Bless me, was ever any thing so fine as the Earl of Devonshire !
Sure he and Sir Hugh Bigot are the two best dressed 'men I ever saw. Now both those suits were of my making.
There would indeed be infinite pleasure in working · for the courtiers, as they are generally genteel men, 6 and show one's clothes to the best advantage, was it 'not for one small discouragement; this is, that they “never pay. I solemnly protest, though I lost almost 6 as much by the court in my life as I got by the city, "I never carried a suit into the latter with half the satisfaction which I have done to the former; though from that I was certain of ready money, and from this almost as certain of no money at all.
Courtiers may, however, be divided into two sorts, very essentially different from each other; into those who never intend to pay for their clothes ; and those who do intend to pay for them, but never happen to be able. Of the latter sort are many of those young gentlemen whom we equip out for the army, and who are, unhappily for us, cut off before they arrive at pre