The great law of subordination consider'd: or, the insolence and unsufferable behaviour of servants in England duly enquir'd into. ... In ten familiar letters. ... As also a proposal, containing such heads or constitutions, as wou'd effectually answer this great end, and bring servants of every class to a just ... regulation.

LETTER IX.

Dear Brother,

_IHIS comes to acknowledge the Favour of Your's, of the 10th, in Answer to my Last, in which, I observe, you suggest two things as Doubts, upon the Accounts I gave you of the Insolence, and unsufferable Pride of Ser|vants in this Country.

• 1. You say, that certainly the English must be very cruel, arbitrary, and (which is still worse) unreasonable Masters, or
• 2. Surely England has no Laws of Subor|dination in Force, for the particular Regulation of Servants, for securing their Obedience, and stating what is, or is not their Duty.

I confess, 'tis very rational to suggest in general, that there must be something or other uncommon, that shou'd be the Reason of such things as these; that it is not thus in other Nations; and that Servants are more at Command, and more subject to their Masters, or more easily to be punish'd in other Countries; and that if it is not so here, there must be some Reason to be assign'd for it, and that you think one of these must be the Case.

But as I know you will bear with my Freedom, I take the Liberty to say, particu|larly as to these two things you are en|tirely mistaken; and, First, as to the Beha|viour of Masters to Servants; I hope you will allow, (to avoid frequent Repetitions) that when I say Masters, I shou'd be un|derstood to mean Mistresses as well as Ma|sters, for they stand in the same Place, in Point of Argument.

And, First, the contrary is true to an Ex|tream, and it is partly to the Account of this very thing I place the first Rise of the Insolence of Servants; 'tis so far from being owing to the ill Usage of Servants by their Masters, that the unseasonable Lenity, Kind|ness, and Tenderness to Servants in this Coun|try, is the very Cause of it: In a Word, as I may truly say, that the poor know not what it is to be Servants, so the Rich, I must acknowledge, know not how to be Ma|sters.

I remember a Passage of the famous Co|lonel Kirk, who commanded a Regiment of English Soldiers in the French Service, and was fam'd for his Severity of Discipline: He had order'd a Sergeant to correct a pri|vate Centinel for some Error in his Exer|cise, when he was seeing the Regiment han|dle their Arms; go and knock that Dog down, says the Colonel; the Sergeant belie|ving the Colonel meant, that he shou'd cane him only, did it very severely; when he had done it, the Colonel call'd the Sergeant to him; when he came, lend me your Hal|bert, says the Colonel, which the Sergeant did very submissively; look here, says the Colonel, I'll shew you how to knock a Sol|dier down, and with the Words, knock'd the poor Fellow down with his own Halbert: It is true, Kirk was said to be too unmer|ciful and severe, but on the other-hand, he had the best disciplin'd Regiment in the whole English Body, which consisted of five Brigades; he was faithfully serv'd, and if he had commanded his Men to have jump'd into the Fire, they wou'd certainly have done it.

They have a Proverbial Saying in this Country, which, they say, was taken from the late Usurper Oliver Cromwell, who his worst Enemies acknowledge to be a good Soldier; they tell us that it was his Saying, that to have a good Army you must hang well and pay well; and his known, that his own Regiment (which wore white Cloaths

and were call'd Cromwel's Lambs,) wou'd follow him thro' Fire and Water, never were known to turn their Backs in the Field, but had cut in Pieces many a Re|giment of the best Cavalry the King had; while at the same time, 'tis said, he had first or last pistol'd three of them with his own Hand, when they had mutiny'd up|on some Occasion or other, and refus'd to march.

There is since that, another Proverbial Saying upon the very Subject I am upon, namely, That the English are the best Masters, and the worst Servants in the World: If I were to invert that Saying, I wou'd place it thus, That the English have the uneasiest Servants, because they are the easiest Ma|sters in the World: In a Word, as I hinted just now, we may say, that in England the Rich know not how to be Masters, and there|fore the Poor know not how to be Servants.

There is a Town in Hertfordsbire, not far from London, of which they say, That there is no-body Poor enough to keep the Town-Hogs, or Rich enough to keep a Hog-herd: This Town is an Emblem of the Country it self, but especially of the Poor, and 'tis very much to the present Purpose, for tho' the Poor are too low to keep a Servant, yet they are ge|nerally too high to be Servants themselves.

I cannot say, that the English are the best Masters in the World, but that they are the easiest, kindest, tenderest Masters to Ser|vants,

that is certainly true, and this is cer|tainly the true Reason of the Mischief I am speaking of; In a Word, as a slack Rein in Government encourages Factions and Rebel|lions, so easy Masters make sawcy Servants; the Master that will bear to be impos'd upon shall be impos'd upon; nay, I have heard some say, he that will be insulted ought to be insulted; I will not say so, because 'tis an Ingratitude in the Servant, but I must allow it is an unpardonable Folly, and Mistake in the Master.

I have often disguiss'd myself for this pur|pose, and mingl'd in among the Mob of such Fellows as those, who we call Footmen; I have convers'd with them over a Mug of Porter, as they call their Alehouse Beer and Ale; and there how have I heard them boast over their Master's Kindness to them, and how they cou'd do any-thing they pleas'd? that they valued not their Masters a Shilling, and that they durst not be angry with them; that if they did quarrel, d— 'em they wou'd be gone, and their Master cou'd not do with|out 'em.

One Fellow was talking thus, and I entred into a short Dialogue with him about it; I ask'd him what his Master wou'd say to him if he got drunk, and if at another time he staid out all-Night, and the like?

Say to me, says he, why, he wou'd swear at me, it may be.

Well, says I, and what then?

Why then, says he, I wou'd swear, it may be, as fast as he, and d— as fast he.

And it has been so then sometimes between you, says I, has it?

Yes, very often, says he:

Well, but that was when you was drunk, says I, wa'n't it?

Yes, said he:

But next Morning, says I, how was it with you both then?

O, says he, my Master wou'd be a little surly, and it may be, not speak for a good while, and I wou'd take no Notice of it, but go about my Affairs, as I use to do; and he wou'd come-to again in a Day or two; but if he took any Notice, I wou'd tell him I had got a little Drink; that I did not remember I was rude, if I was, I was very sorry, but I was in Drink, and the like.

Well, and what then, said I?

O, said he, I knew one good Word wou'd pacify him, and he wou'd be pleas'd presently, for my Master is the easiest good-natur'd Man in the World.

Very well, says I, that is to say, your Ma|ster is the easiest Fool in the World:

Nay, says he, I cannot deny but my Master is easy, and that makes his Servants all play upon him, as they do:

Why, says I, do you not own you are very much oblig'd to your Master, for being so good|humour'd?

Yes, says he, but I must own I don't make him a bit the better Servant for that:

How do you mean, says I, not a bit bet|ter?

Mean! says he, why, I am the easier to be drunk again, and to swear at him again, be|cause I know for a Word speaking I can make it all up again; and then be drunk again, and ask Pardon again, and so on.

Well, but, said I, Jack, you must own you are a Dog, an ungrateful Dog to him, to im|pose upon his good Nature in that Man|ner?

I don't value that a Farthing, says Jack, if my Master is a Fool, it's the better for me, is it not; then I can be Master when I please?

But have you a good Place too, Jack, said I?

Yes, said he, a very good Place:

Well, then, says I, why don't you behave better, Jack, that you may not lose it?

No, no, says he, my Master does not love to change Faces, he can't abide to put away Servants; we may do any-thing, and say any-thing, if we do but give him a good Word the next Day, and say we beg his Pardon, all is over with him presently.

Well, says I, and are not you all the better Servants for that?

No, no, says he, but much the worse, for there's scarce a Day in the Week, but one or other

of us give ourselves a loose, for we know we can make it up again with a Word.

Prithee, Jack, said I, where did you learn this Principle of Honesty and Gratitude?

O, says he, 'tis not so much Ingratitude, but 'tis Policy; an easy Master must be us'd so, and we fare never the worse for it, for we keep him at Bay by it, he expects no other.

Well but, Jack, says I, if you were a Ma|ster, wou'd you take it of a Servant, wou'd you be such an easy Master?

O, says Jack, that's quite another Case; no, no, what, do you take me for, a Fool?

Well, but how wou'd you act, says I?

How, says he! D— 'em, I'd see my Busi|ness done, and have it done at a Word, or I'd make my Cane walk among them.

Well but, says I, what if your Servant d— as fast as you, as you said just now, and hector'd you, as you say you do your Master, what wou'd you do then?

Do, says he! I'd make 'em fly me as a Pidgeon does a Hawk; I'd open the Door, and kick 'em out and bid 'em go to the Devil.

Very well, and they wou'd go, I suppose, said I, and the next wou'd be the same, and so on.

Why then, says he, I wou'd turn the next a|way in the same Manner, and so on as you say, 'till I bad a good Servant, if I turn'd off a hun|dred in a Year.

And do you think then, said I, that this kind treating of his Servants is a Fault in your Master, and that you are all the worse for it?

AY, most certainly, said he, and he will ne|ver have a good Servant while he does so; a Fool-Master always makes a Rogue-Servant; I'll tell you a Story, says Jack, and so he begins, as follows.

'There was a poor honest Master Weaver in our Country kept several Apprentices, and (as I suppose) being poor, and having but little House-room, he and his Apprentices lay all in a Chamber together, tho' not all in a Bed; one Night his Master being gone to Bed, in cold Winter Weather, and the Candle out, feeling a cold Wind come in somewhere, calls to his Boy thus, Jack, says the Master; * 1.1Ay, Master, says Jack: I believe that Win|dow is open, Jack, says the Master: I believe it is Master, says Jack; so they lay still awhile. By-and-by the Master feeling the Cold still, calls again, Jack: Ay, Master, says Jack: The Wind blows very cold at that Window, Jack, says the Master: Ay, so it does, Master, says Jack: Some time after, the Master finding the Boy did'nt stir, calls again; Jack, says he: Ay, Master, says Jack: Wou'd that Window was shut, Jack; ay, wou'd it was Master,

says Jack; but still Jack did'nt stir: By this time the Master's Patience was spent, and feeling the Cold come in at the Window still, he rouzes up himself like a Man; Why, Jack, says he? Ay, Master, says Jack again very impudently: You lazy Son of a Whore, says the Master, why don't you rise and shut the Window there? Must I come and rouze you? Get up you Dog, and shut the Window, Yes, Master, says Jack, now you speak in earnest;

so he gets up, and shuts the Win|dow, and all was well.

And this, says I, is the true Picture of you Servants, is it?

Yes, indeed, says he, it is so all over the Na|tion, and will be so; while Masters act without the Authority of Masters, Servants will ne|ver shew the Submission and Obedience of their Place.

And you learnt it of Jack, did you, said I?

Yes, says he, that was my first Lesson, in|deed, but I am improv'd since by farther Ex|amples.

And pray, said I, what is that you call im|prov'd?

Why, says he, to do as little Work as I can, to get into good Company as soon as ever my Master's Back's turn'd.

Ay, said I, to come home drunk, and be sawcy too, is that a Part of it?

Why, as to that, says he, it will happen so sometimes, but that's nothing; I do well e|nough with my Master for that, for give him

but a good Word again, when I come to myself, all is over with him presently.

Ay, said I, and that encourages you to do so again, perhaps, the next Opportunity that offers.

Why, truly, says he, in all Difficulties, when Folks come off easy, they are the for|warder to venture again: We had a great deal of Discourse more besides this; I feign'd my self to be a Servant too, but that I had a very severe strict Master, that wou'd not bear with a Servant being absent from his Business; that if any of the Servants were heard to swear, it was with the greatest Intercession imaginable that they avoided being turn'd away; but if once they got drunk, they had no more to do, but strip, and be gone; off with their Livery, take their Wages, and out of Doors; they had as good go voluntarily as stay to be turn'd out, for I assure you, said I, my Master never gave a Servant Occasion to be drunk twice in his Service.

That's very hard, says he; why any poor Servant may be overtaken, and not design it.

It's all one, says I, our Master makes it so stated a Rule in the Family, that it is no Hard|ship, because all the Servants know it as soon as they come into the House.

Well, says he, and you are all sober Dogs, ar'n't you? Pray what kind of Servants has your Master? are they good for any-thing?

All very good Servants, I assure you, said I, except myself.

Nay, says he, it is certainly the only way, your Master is in the right of it, to be sure, and none but such Masters will have good Servants; but I wou'd not live with him if he wou'd give me double Wages, for all that.

Why, wou'd you not restrain yourself to have a good Place?

Not I, says he, 'tis not the Way among Servants at this time; I have been us'd to be Master wherever I have been, and I can't bear those strict Orders of Families, not I; Con|finement won't do with me, I must drink with my old Friends sometimes.

Well, so do we too, said I, for if we ask Leave, we are never deny'd; he is as civil and kind that way, to us, as we can desire; only we must keep our time when we pro|mise to return, and not come home Drunk; and I do not see any great Harm in that, not I.

No Harm in it! says he; why 'tis making a Jail of his House, such a Service would be Bridewell to me; I wou'd as lieu beat Hemp, says he, every jot, and then he pour'd out two or three G—d d—mn him's at such a Master; but all the way he own'd that they were the Masters that got good Servants; only that he wou'd not serve any Man in England upon such Terms, not he, for he wou'd have his Liberty, ay that he wou'd.

From this short Discourse between this Fel|low and I, you may see the state of the Case, in sbort, that 'tis the Easiness and Kindness of Masters in England that has ruin'd the Ser|vants;

you will say indeed, 'tis a Token of a prodigious Baseness in the Minds of the Poor of this Country, that they may be forc'd by Discipline, but are not to be oblig'd by Kind|ness, and that, said he, cannot be help'd.

Among the civil Usage giveu to Servants in England, I must place the Privileges they have in their Places: The Huntsmen have their Field-Money, and are allow'd to carry out the Hounds upon all Occasions, to gra|tify the Gentlemen round, that is to say, to get their Field-Money.

The Game-keepers are trusted with Powers to take away Guns and Dogs from the mean|er People, and they abuse the Trust, as you shall hear, and the Game too.

Head-Carters and upper-Plowmen are often sent to Market, and entrusted both to buy and to sell, and you shall hear how they improve.

Your Coachmen have Privileges of their own making, namely, of having Compliments from the Tradesmen, that is to say, all those who supply you with things needful to the Equigage; such as the Coachmaker, Harness|maker, Corn-chandler, Farrier, &c. and the like is the Case with all the Stewards, But|lers, &c. These are Advantages which our Gentlemen in France are too wise to put into the Hands of Mercenaries and Scoundrels, such as many times have them here; I as|sure you 'tis far from obliging these Gentle|men, as they call themselves, who I am talking of; far from engaging them to be more faith|ful

to their Masters, more careful of their Masters Interest, or more affectionate to their Service; on the contrary, it fills their Pockets with Money, and that ill-gotten too; so that it eats a Hole into their Consciences, and makes them scruple no Villany to encrease it; that Money makes them proud, insolent, and un|sufferable within-Doors, and drunken and wicked without-doors: But let me take them in their several Capacities acting to these Prin|ciples, and consider them apart.

Your Huntsman, if you do not give him Leave to take the Hounds out when he plea|ses, and can get Company, shall take care you shall have little Sport enough when you go out your self; nay, he shall batter your Hor|ses, baulk your Hounds, and show you no Sport, or to be sure kill you nothing; while at the same time, he turns Poacher for the unfair Sportsmen, and shall show them a Hare sitting as often as they please, for the usual Bribe of a Schilling: If you find him out, and make a Fault of it, he turns short upon you, and tells you saucily, It is his Fees, or Vails, (as they call it here) and if you wou'd Hunt in Company, as other Gentlemen do, that the Huntsman might get his Field-Money, he wou'd not do so; (a) 1.2 that is to say, he wou'd have you keep a Pack of Hounds, like my Lord-Mayor, not for your self, but for your Hunts|man,

that he may get all the young Rakes round the Country, and all the loose Peo|ple he can, into the Field, and hunt what, and where, and how they bid him, for the meer sake of his Field-Money, which they call the Huntsman's Fees; till they beat out the Hounds, and hackney them till they are good for little or nothing; and if you will not do that, you shall, as above, go out two or three Days together perhaps, and have no Sport your self; kill nothing, nay perhaps, find nothing, while your Huntsman, who at the same time knows of a Brace or two of Hares sitting, shall on purpose to miss of them, draw quite another Way; if you hap|pen to dislike, and bid him go this or that Way, he'll tell you, he beat all that Ground in the Morning, before you came out; or per|swade you, that he knows where there is a Hare that way that he is beating, and so draw you off from the Game that he is not willing you shou'd find, till you are thorowly fatigu'd, and your Horses too; and if he lets you kill one single Hare, you are to take it for a great Favour.

The next is your Ranger, or Park-keeper: It is his Business not only to range the Park, and see that the Pale is in repair, and the Co|vert in order, but to preserve the Deer; and he has several large Privileges; some, when any Deer is kill'd for his Master's House; but greater, when any Presents are made of Deer alive, or of Venison; and these Advantages

make the Keeper's Place a very good thing.

But instead of being the more faithful, un|less you consider him extraordinary, and eve|ry now-and-then give him Leave to sell a fat Buck for you, to some great Feast, and the like, you shall feel the Consequence of it; for you shall have the Park never fail of being robb'd three or four times in every Season, and the best Bucks carry'd off, four or five Brace at a time: Then to solve his own Cre|dit, he has the Impudence to accuse several of the young Fellows round the Country, who know nothing at-all of the Matter; and if any of them cannot give a good Account of themselves, they are at least, loaded with a Scandal, and render's suspected not only there, but to all the Gentlemen in the Country; when at the same time your Keeper has Hor|ses sent to fetch the Venison, by his own Or|der, and as punctually as his Master himself, from certain Pastry-Cooks, and sly Merchants in London, who deal in such Goods; and per|haps you chance, if you come to London, to give a couple of Guineas to some or other of them, for a Haunch of your own Venison: On the other hand, if in the Country you want any Venison for your own Table, or to make a Present of to any neighbouring Gentle|men, your Park keeeper shall tell you, there is very little fit for your Use, and that if you kill any more 'till next Season, you will spoil your Park.

This is so known a Practice, that I need but converse with a few Gentlemen in the Neigh|bourhood of this City, and I might furnish you with a great many diverting Stories upon this Subject; and two or three Park-keepers are, I think, at this very time in Prison for such Rogueries.

This indeed may be said to be a kind of Thieving, and so not to come directly into the Subject I am upon; but as it is one of these Sorts of Thieving, which the Servants of this Age will not allow to be Robbery, I place it rather upon the insolent Temper of the Men; for 'tis certain, those that trade with them in this wicked Trade, call it no|thing but a Love of Sport, and to have an honest Keeper or two befriend them in it; but the Laws are of late more severe in this Case than formerly, and we shall ('tis hop'd) find some Examples made e'er long, of which I shall not fail to give you an Account.

But I return to the Villany which more immediately respects the Persons of their Ma|sters: The next is the Game keeper, or as it was call'd formerly, the Falconer.

Your Game keeper shall lead you about, with your Dogs and your Nets, and hardly shew you a Covey of Birds, in riding over a whole Lordship: At the same time he is un|der Contract with the Higglers, for so many Dozen of Partridges in the Season, which he supplies by going out in the Night with a Pair

of Trammels, with which he kills all the Birds about your Estate.

If you send him out with your Gun, he shall go about all the Morning, and (perhaps) send you home a Hen Pheasaut, and at the same time send all the rest to Market; if he shoots a Woodcock or two now and then, or a Snipe, you must count it a Rarety, while at the same time he sets his Snares in all the springy swampy Places in the Woods, and near you, and takes from five to ten Brace in a Night.

In a Word, while the Gentlemen in the Parliament House are making Laws to preserve the Game, their own Servants are the greatest Poachers in the Country; and under Pretence of killing the Game for their Masters, they make a Property of the Sport, and supply the Hucksters and Carriers with all kinds of Fouls, which the Law forbids them to touch.

It was on this very Account, that the Gen|tlemen found it necessary to get farther Laws made for preserving the Game, and particu|larly one which forbids, upon severe Penalties, any Partridges, Pheasants, Quails, &c. being sold in the Shops or Markets; or by any Hig|lers, Poulterers, or such Persons whatsoever; but notwithstanding that, and even in Spight of Laws and Penalties, the Trade goes on still.

By this Means all the Laws for preserving the Game are only made Laws for raising the Price of the Game in the Poulterer's

Shops; for as 'tis a kind of contraband Trade, they drive it on clandestinely, and under-hand; but Hares, Partridges, Pheasants, &c. are to be bought now as easily as before, only they make the Buyer pay double Price; and whereas a good Hare might have been bought before for a Shilling or eighteen Pence, now they will have four or five Shillings for it, but still the Game is as much destroy'd as before.

From these very modest Fellows come we next to the Plowmen and Carters, Husband|men, and the like.

Suppose you now to be a Gentleman in En|gland, that keeping Part of your Estate in your own Hands, keep also a Head Carter, or Baily, to manage your Team of Horse, see your Land plow'd, order the Cows, the Sheep, and the like; the Servants are all under this Man, as the Director of their Labour; he orders them when to plow, when to sow, and in what Places; how, and where, and when the Sheep are to be folded, the Calves and Lambs suckled, the Fat Cattle sold off, and all such things; and sometimes he is trusted so far, as to be sent to Market to sell what is to be dispos'd of: In all which he understands his Business to be, that no-body shall cheat you but himself; while you are easy at all he does he is easy with you too, because he makes his Market of you, but if you straiten him, and pretend to look after him, his Manners are all vanish'd on a sudden, and he is as sour

and surly you scarce know how to speak to him.

If you anger him, or find Fault with his Management, he shall in his Passion whip your Horses, starve your fatting Swine, suckle other Men's Calves with your Cows, and carry on your Affairs with a general Neg|lect, 'till you give him some kind Words again, and so make him Satisfaction, by putting it in|to his Power to cheat you again (if it be pos|sible) worse than he did before.

Every Market-Day, 'tis suppos'd, you send him to Market with something or other of the Produce of the Farm; 'tis not worth your while to go (perhaps) 7 or 8 Miles, to sell a Score of Sheep, or a Couple of incalv'd Cows, or a Load of wheat or Barley; but Thomas, the Carter, goes to Market with them, and when he returns, he very honestly tells you he sold them for so much; when 'tis very ordinary to have him sell them for 40s. in 10l. more than he gives you an Account of: If you dare but suppose, that they might sell for more, he begins with you (for Thieves are always the first to cry out of being suspected) he tells you, that he wonders your Worship will not take the Trouble to go to Market yourself; that he wou'd much rather you wou'd go, and see every thing sold to your Mind; that he wou'd go with all his Heart, and stand in the Market, you need but be at the Tavern hard by, and he wou'd bring eve|ry Chapman to you, and your Worship might

make your own Bargains, take the Money yourself, and so be satisfy'd that you are not cheated; that he thinks nothing of the Trouble of going to Market, but hates the trust of it, for that if the Markets run low, it al|ways makes a poor Servant be suspected.

All this while going to Market is his only Aim, and he is undone if he does not; and yet if you went yourself, unless it were without him too, he wou'd cheat you to your Face, and whisper a low Price to the Buyer, tho' he shar'd the Profit with him; and so cheat you of 40s. to get but 20 of it for himself.

I wou'd not load innocent Men willingly, but this I may venture to say, viz. That such is the Degeneracy of the Servants of this Country, that, in short, except here and there an extraordinary Servant, and I scarce know where that extraordinary Man is to be found; I say, except such an extraordinary one, no Gentleman can send his Servant with Corn or Cattle to Market, but he shall be cheated.

It is but the very Week these Sheets were writing that a Gentleman of my Acquain|tance, living in the Country, sent up about 50 Load of Hay to London by Water, to sell, en|trusting a Man to sell it for him, intending to send a much greater Quantity, Hay being this Year between three and four Pound per Load, at London Market.

His Servant gave him an Account of the first ten Load, as sold ten Shillings per Load

cheaper than (as he found by neighbouring Farmers) Hay was sold for those very Market Days; this made him Master of so much Jealousy, as to set a more faithful Person, as a Spy, to watch his Servant at the Market, and (if possible) to inform himself how he sold; by the means of this Intelligence he arriv'd to a Discovery, that his Servant had put 10s. per Load in his Pocket, out of eve|ry Load of Hay of the whole Parcel, having sold it for so much more than he gave his Master an Account of; and the doing him|self Justice upon this fraudulent Servant is now upon his Hands.

Again, come to the Plowman, and meer la|bouring Husbandman; if he sows in the Field, or threshes in the Barn, he will cheat you of your Corn, even to your Face: A Country Farmer that I knew, employ'd a poor Man to thresh Wheat in his Barn, and every Evening, to prevent his being cheated, look'd upon the Heap of Corn, lock'd up the Barn-Doors, and sent the poor Thresher home to his Cottage, seeing him out himself, that he might be sure he was not wrong'd.

But one Day, having some Suspicion of his Man, he took Occasion to send the Thresher out in a Hurry, telling him there were Hogs gotten into a Close newly sow'd with Wheat, and which lay near the Barn; when the Man was gone, he makes that an Opportunity to search about the Barn, and in a Corner of the Mow, he finds hid a little leather Bag, with a|bout

half a peck of Wheat in it; he took no Notice, nor did he remove the Bag, but cuts a little Bit out of it, with a pair of Scissars, to|wards the top, so that the Corn wou'd not run out, that he might know his Bag again, and leaves it as he found it: At Night he dis|miss'd the Thresher, as usual, who walk'd away; but as soon as he was gone, the Master runs a nearer way, and meets him in a narrow Field which he knew he would go through, and finds the little Bag of Wheat upon his Head, carrying it Home, as he suppos'd.

He did not appear angry, or surpriz'd, at|all, but after some other trifling Discourse, he says to him, and art thou going home di|rectly? Yes, says the Thresher; and what hast thou got there, Goodman Thomas? says the Farmer; I doubt that's some of my Corn: The Fellow wou'd have denied it a little at first, but seeing himself discover'd, Why yes, says he, 'tis some of the Sweepings of the Floor, but 'twas such a little, said he, I thought you wou'd not scruple such a small Parcel, 'tis nothing but what you would have thrown to the Poultry: Poultry! Thomas, says the Farmer, but my Poultry are my own, and they help to pay my Rent; I assure you, I thought you wou'd not have carried away any of my Corn.

Here Goodman Thomas began to be surly, seeing himself detected, and said, he never work'd for any Master before, that wou'd not give him a handful of Corn for his Cocks and

Hens: Well but Goodman Thomas, and so per|haps wou'd l, says the Farmer, if you had assk'd me, but I don't love to have it taken without my Leave: The Fellow grumbl'd, and began to be sawcy, and offer'd to go: Well, well, Goodman Thomas, says the Farmer, I expect you'll bring it back-again in the Mor|ning when you come to Work.

Next Morning he came to Work; but when the Farmer ask'd for the Bag of Corn, Goodman Thomas made light of it, and said, he hop'd he wou'd not stand with him for such a small Matter: No, Goodman Thomas, said the Farmer, if you will ingenu|ously own how often you have done so; how often, says Thomas, why as often as we want it at home, I always take a little for our Ba|king: Why Master, says he, don't all the Threshers for you, do the same? I hope not, says the Farmer; I assure you, they that Thresh for me, shall not, if I can help it: Well, well, says Goodman Thomas, see where you'll get a Man to Thresh for you, that don't do it: I thought it no Crime, not I, and so laugh'd it off, and his Master forgave him, but dismiss'd him from his Work.

But Goodman Thomas's Words were all made good, for as this made the Farmer more jealous, and consequently more careful, the next three Threshers he hir'd, he took them all in the same Fact; with this Difference on|ly, that as Thomas stole under half a Peck, one of them stole a Bushel at a time, and the

other Two about half as much each: So hard is it to get a Servant now, but will not only defraud you, and cheat you, but like Good|man Thomas, grin and laugh in your Face when they are discover'd, and think it very hard to be restrain'd; or huff and insult you, and tell you, 'tis no Crime; that 'tis their Fees, and they expect it; and that they wou'd not work with you for such Wages, if it was not for the other Advantages they make.

And it is on this Account that I name the Behaviour of these sort of Servants, I mean Husbandmen; for it is the same Pride and and Insolence by which the Footmen and Houshold-Servants are made sawcy, that the other are made thievish and dishonest; and this is what we must expect will follow in time, among all the rest of our Servants; for when once they grow sawcy and impudent, they will not be long before they grow Thieves, 'tis a natural Consequence of the thing; for when once Servants are arriv'd to a Con|tempt of their Masters Persons, they can ne|ver be suppos'd to have a sincere Regard to their Interest; and if they come to be regard|less of their Interest, they will soon come to have the same Disregard to their Property.

There is a kind of a Contest in England be|tween Masters and Servants, which I never met with any-where else, concerning Honesty, and the Servants here have as odd a Notion of Honesty, as really they have of Liberty; and this false Notion of Honesty is such, that,

in short, it makes Thieves of half the Servants in England, and yet at the same time, they have the Impudence to call themselves very honest Fellows, and wou'd think it very hard to be denied a Character as such, when they go from you: You see Goodman Thomas thought taking a little Wheat for his Family, for their baking, was no Dishonesty, 'twas what every-body did, and why shou'd not he do it as well as another?

I mention'd the honest thieving of their Time before, which they think nothing of; their making their Masters pay for those Hours which they spend at the Alehouse to get drunk, I need not repeat it, that is one.

Leaving their Masters, and running from their Work when there is the greatest Neces|sity of their Service, is another: I knew a poor Farmer had his three Men-Servants run from him in the Prime of his Harvest, being got into Company, and drunk, and left the poor Man destitute of Hands to get in his Corn.

A Soldier deserting his Colours, especially in time of Service, is shot to Death, without Mercy, and reason good, because the Safety of his King and Country is betray'd by his de|serting, as much as it is possible for him to be|tray it.

A Servant who hires himself to a poor Farmer, to do his Business, and runs from him in Harvest, as much as in him lies be|trays him, and ruins him; and this very thing is so notoriously practis'd at this time,

and is so much a Grievance, that the Parlia|ment, since my writing these Letters, have it under Consideration to oblige Servants to per|form their Agreement, and stay out the Year; and to empower the Justices of Peace, and proper Officers, to punish fugitive Servants; and I doubt not but we shall soon have a very severe Law upon that Subject. But of this hereafter.

I am, &c.

Notes

• * 1.1

  That is the Way of Servants replying, or answering in the Country, when they are call'd; as to say Sir, or Madam, is to answer a Call in these Parts about London.
• (a) 1.2

  Field-Money is Money given by all the Gentlemen in the Field where they are hunting, as often as they find a Hare fitting.