The Tatler
Edited by
George A. Aitken
In Four Volumes
Volume Two
The R.t Hon.ble Joseph Addison Esq. one of his Majesty's Secretary's of State.
Engraved by Wm. H. Ward & Co. L'd. from the Original by Smith after Kneller.
The Tatler
Edited with Introduction & Notes
by
George A. Aitken
Author of
"The Life of Richard Steele," &c.
Vol. II
New York
Hadley & Mathews
156 Fifth Avenue
London: Duckworth & Co.
1899
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. At the Ballantyne Press
List of Contents (created by transcriber)
[To Edward Wortley Montagu,]
[The Tatler]
[No. 50. [Steele.]
[No. 51. [Steele.]
[No. 52. [Steele.]
[No. 53. [Steele.]
[No. 54. [Steele.]
[No. 55. [Steele.]
[No. 56. [Steele.]
[No. 57. [Steele.]
[No. 58. [Steele.]
[No. 59. [Steele.]
[No. 60. [Steele.]
[No. 61. [Steele.]
[No. 62. [Steele.]
[No. 63. [Steele, etc.]
[No. 64. [Steele.]
[No. 65. [Steele.]
[No. 66. [Steele.]
[No. 67. [Steele.]
[No. 68. [Steele.]
[No. 69. [Steele.]
[No. 70. [Steele.]
[No. 71. Steele.]
[No. 72. [Steele.]
[No. 73. [Steele.]
[No. 74. [Steele.]
[No. 75. [Steele and Addison.]
[No. 76. [Steele.]
[No. 77. [Steele.]
[No. 78. [Steele.]
[No. 79. [Steele.]
[No. 80. [Steele.]
[No. 81. [Steele and Addison.]
[No. 82. [Steele.]
[No. 83. [Steele.]
[No. 84. [Steele.]
[No. 85. [Steele.]
[No. 86. [Addison and Steele.]
[No. 87. [Steele.]
[No. 88. [Steele.]
[No. 89. [Steele.]
[No. 90. [Steele.]
[No. 91. [Steele.]
[No. 92. [Steele.]
[No. 93. [Steele and Addison.]
[No. 94. [Steele.]
[No. 95.]
[No. 96. [Addison.]
[No. 97. [Addison.]
[No. 98. [Steele.]
[No. 99. [Steele.]
[No. 100. [Addison.]
[No. 101. [Steele and Addison.]
[No. 102. [Addison.]
[No. 103. [Addison and Steele.]
[No. 104. [Steele.]
[No. 105. [Steele.]
[No. 106. [Steele.]
[No. 107. [Steele.]
[No. 108. [Addison.]
[No. 109. [Steele.]
[No. 110. [Addison and Steele.]
[No. 111. [Addison and Steele.]
[No. 112. [Steele.]
[No. 113. [Hughes.]
[No. 114. [Addison and Steele]
[To Edward Wortley Montagu, Esq.][1]
Sir,
When I send you this volume, I am rather to make you a request than a Dedication. I must desire, that if you think fit to throw away any moments on it, you would not do it after reading those excellent pieces with which you are usually conversant. The images which you will meet with here, will be very faint, after the perusal of the Greeks and Romans, who are your ordinary companions. I must confess I am obliged to you for the taste of many of their excellences, which I had not observed until you pointed them to me. I am very proud that there are some things in these papers which I know you pardon;[2] and it is no small pleasure to have one's labours suffered by the judgment of a man, who so well understands the true charms of eloquence and poesy. But I direct this address to you, not that I think I can entertain you with my writings, but to thank you for the new delight I have, from your conversation, in those of other men.
May you enjoy a long continuance of the true relish of the happiness Heaven has bestowed upon you. I know not how to say a more affectionate thing to you, than to wish that you may be always what you are; and that you may ever think, as I know you now do, that you have a much larger fortune than you want.
I am, Sir,
Your most obedient, and most humble Servant,
Isaac Bickerstaff.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Edward Wortley Montagu, an intimate friend of Addison and Steele, was the second son of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, and grandson of Edward Montagu, the first Earl of Sandwich. He was chosen a Member of Parliament for Huntingdon in 1705, and in all other parliaments but two to the end of her reign. On the accession of George I. he became one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury, and was afterwards Ambassador-Extraordinary to the Porte. He set out, January 27, 1716, and having finished his negotiations returned in 1718. In the first parliament called by King George I. he was chosen for the city of Westminster, and afterwards served for Huntingdon. He was a member for the city of Peterborough when he died, January 22, 1761, aged 80 years, before he was able to alter his will, as he intended, in favour of his son. He married the famous Lady Mary Pierrepont, eldest daughter of the Duke of Kingston, in 1712, and by her he had issue an only son, Edward Wortley Montagu, who was M.P. in three parliaments for Bossiney, in Cornwall; and a daughter Mary, married to John Stuart, Earl of Bute, August 24, 1736.
[2] There is no doubt that Wortley Montagu contributed papers and hints for the Tatler ("Letters of Lady M. W. Montagu," ed. Moy Thomas, i. 5, 10, 62). See specially No. 223.
By ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.
[No. 50. [Steele.][3]
From Tuesday, August 2, to Thursday, August 4, 1709.
Quicquid agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli.
Juv., Sat. I. 85, 86.
White's Chocolate-house, August 2.
The History of Orlando the Fair. Chap. I.
Whatever malicious men may say of our lucubrations, we have no design but to produce unknown merit, or place in a proper light the actions of our contemporaries who labour to distinguish themselves, whether it be by vice or virtue. For we shall never give accounts to the world of anything, but what the lives and endeavours of the persons (of whom we treat) make the basis of their fame and reputation. For this reason it is to be hoped, that our appearance is reputed a public benefit; and though certain persons may turn what we mean for panegyric into scandal, let it be answered once for all, that if our praises are really designed as raillery, such malevolent persons owe their safety from it only to their being too inconsiderable for history. It is not every man who deals in ratsbane, or is unseasonably amorous, that can adorn story like Æsculapius;[4] nor every stockjobber of the India Company can assume the port, and personate the figure of Aurengezebe.[5] My noble ancestor, Mr. Shakespeare, who was of the race of the Staffs, was not more fond of the memorable Sir John Falstaff, than I am of those worthies; but the Latins have an admirable admonition expressed in two words, to wit, nequid nimis, which forbids my indulging myself on those delightful subjects, and calls me to do justice to others, who make no less figures in our generation: of such, the first and most renowned is, that eminent hero and lover, Orlando[6] the handsome, whose disappointments in love, in gallantry, and in war, have banished him from public view, and made him voluntarily enter into a confinement, to which the ungrateful age would otherwise have forced him. Ten lustra and more are wholly passed since Orlando first appeared in the metropolis of this island: his descent noble, his wit humorous, his person charming. But to none of these recommendatory advantages was his title so undoubted as that of his beauty. His complexion was fair, but his countenance manly; his stature of the tallest, his shape the most exact; and though in all his limbs he had a proportion as delicate as we see in the works of the most skilful statuaries, his body had a strength and firmness little inferior to the marble of which such images are formed. This made Orlando the universal flame of all the fair sex: innocent virgins sighed for him, as Adonis; experienced widows, as Hercules. Thus did this figure walk alone the pattern and ornament of our species, but of course the envy of all who had the same passions, without his superior merit and pretences to the favour of that enchanting creature, woman. However, the generous Orlando believed himself formed for the world, and not to be engrossed by any particular affection. He sighed not for Delia, for Chloris, for Chloe, for Betty, nor my lady, nor for the ready chambermaid, nor distant baroness: woman was his mistress, and the whole sex his seraglio. His form was always irresistible: and if we consider, that not one of five hundred can bear the least favour from a lady without being exalted above himself; if also we must allow, that a smile from a side-box[7] has made Jack Spruce half mad, we can't think it wonderful that Orlando's repeated conquests touched his brain: so it certainly did, and Orlando became an enthusiast in love; and in all his address, contracted something out of the ordinary course of breeding and civility. However (powerful as he was), he would still add to the advantages of his person that of a profession which the ladies favour, and immediately commenced soldier. Thus equipped for love and honour, our hero seeks distant climes and adventures, and leaves the despairing nymphs of Great Britain to the courtship of beau and witlings till his return. His exploits in foreign nations and courts have not been regularly enough communicated unto us, to report them with that veracity which we profess in our narrations: but after many feats of arms (which those who were witnesses to them have suppressed out of envy, but which we have had faithfully related from his own mouth in our public streets) Orlando, returns home full, but not loaded with years. Beau born in his absence made it their business to decry his furniture, his dress, his manner; but all such rivalry he suppressed (as the philosopher did the sceptic, who argued there was no such thing as motion) by only moving. The beauteous Villaria,[8] who only was formed for his paramour, became the object of his affection. His first speech to her was as follows:
"Madam,—It is not only that nature has made us two the most accomplished of each sex, and pointed to us to obey her dictates in becoming one; but that there is also an ambition in following the mighty persons you have favoured. Where kings and heroes, as great as Alexander, or such as could personate Alexander,[9] have bowed, permit your general to lay his laurels."
According to Milton:
The fair with conscious majesty approved
His pleaded reason;[10]
and fortune had now supplied Orlando with necessaries for his high taste of gallantry and pleasure: his equipage and economy had something in them more sumptuous and gallant than could be received in our degenerate age; therefore his figure (though highly graceful) appeared so exotic, that it assembled all the Britons under the age of sixteen, who saw his grandeur, to follow his chariot with shouts and acclamations, which he regarded with the contempt which great minds affect in the midst of applauses. I remember I had the honour to see him one day stop, and call the youths about him, to whom he spake as follows:
"Good bastard,—Go to school, and don't lose your time in following my wheels: I am loth to hurt you, because I know not but you are all my own offspring: hark'ee, you sirrah with the white hair, I am sure you are mine: there is half-a-crown. Tell your mother, this, with the half-crown I gave her when I got you, comes to five shillings. Thou hast cost me all that, and yet thou art good for nothing. Why, you young dogs, did you never see a man before?" "Never such a one as you, noble general," replied a truant from Westminster. "Sirrah, I believe thee: there is a crown for thee. Drive on, coachman."
This vehicle, though sacred to love, was not adorned with doves: such an hieroglyphic denoted too languishing a passion. Orlando therefore gave the eagle,[11] as being of a constitution which inclined him rather to seize his prey with talons, than pine for it with murmurs.
From my own Apartment, August 2.
I have received the following letter from Mr. Powell of the Bath,[12] who, I think, runs from the point between us, which I leave the whole world to judge.
To Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.
"Sir,
"Having a great deal of more advantageous business at present on my hands, I thought to have deferred answering your Tatler of the 21st instant, till the company was gone, and season over; but having resolved not to regard any impertinences of your paper, except what relate particularly to me, I am the more easily induced to answer you (as I shall find time to do it): First, partly lest you should think yourself neglected, which I have reason to believe you would take heinously ill. Secondly, partly because it will increase my fame, and consequently my audience, when all the quality shall see with how much wit and raillery I show you—I don't care a farthing for you. Thirdly, partly because, being without books,[13] if I don't show much learning, it will not be imputed to my having none.
"I have travelled Italy, France, and Spain, and fully comprehend what any German artist in the world can do; yet cannot I imagine, why you should endeavour to disturb the repose and plenty which (though unworthy) I enjoy at this place. It cannot be, that you take offence at my prologues and epilogues, which you are pleased to miscall foolish and abusive. No, no, until you give a better,[14] I shall not forbear thinking, that the true reason of your picking a quarrel with me was, because it is more agreeable to your principles, as well as more to the honour of your assured victory, to attack a governor. Mr. Isaac, Mr. Isaac, I can see into a millstone as far as another (as the saying is). You are for sowing the seeds of sedition and disobedience among my puppets, and your zeal for the (good old) cause would make you persuade Punch to pull the string from his chops, and not move his jaw when I have a mind he should harangue. Now I appeal to all men, if this is not contrary to that uncontrollable, unaccountable dominion, which by the laws of nature I exercise over them; for all sorts of wood and wire were made for the use and benefit of man: I have therefore an unquestionable right to frame, fashion, and put them together, as I please; and, having made them what they are, my puppets are my property, and therefore my slaves: nor is there in nature anything more just, than the homage which is paid by a less to a more excellent being: so that, by the right therefore of a superior genius, I am their supreme moderator, although you would insinuate (agreeably to your levelling principles) that I am myself but a great puppet, and can therefore have but a co-ordinate jurisdiction with them. I suppose I have now sufficiently made it appear, that I have a paternal right[15] to keep a puppet-show, and this right I will maintain in my prologues on all occasions.
"And therefore, if you write a defence of yourself against this my self-defence, I admonish you to keep within bounds; for every day will not be so propitious to you as the 29th of April; and perhaps my resentment may get the better of my generosity, and I may no longer scorn to fight one who is not my equal with unequal weapons: there are such things as scandalums magnatums;[16] therefore take heed hereafter how you write such things as I cannot easily answer, for that will put me in a passion.
"I order you to handle only these two propositions, to which our dispute may be reduced: the first, whether I have not an absolute power, whenever I please, to light a pipe with one of Punch's legs, or warm my fingers with his whole carcass? The second, whether the devil would not be in Punch, should he by word or deed oppose my sovereign will and pleasure? And then, perhaps, I may (if I can find leisure for it) give you the trouble of a second letter.
"But if you intend to tell me of the original of puppet-shows, and the several changes, and revolutions that have happened in them, since Thespis, and I don't care who, that's noli me tangere; I have solemnly engaged to say nothing of what I can't approve. Or, if you talk of certain contracts with the mayor and burgesses, or fees to the constables, for the privilege of acting, I will not write one single word about any such matters;[17] but shall leave you to be mumbled by the learned and very ingenious author of a late book, who knows very well what is to be said and done in such cases.[18] He is now shuffling the cards, and dealing to Timothy; but if he wins the game, I will send him to play at backgammon with you; and then he will satisfy you, that deuce-ace makes five.
"And so, submitting myself to be tried by my country, and allowing any jury of twelve good men, and true, to be that country; not excepting any (unless Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff) to be of the panel,[19] for you are neither good nor true; I bid you heartily farewell; and am,
"Sir,
Your loving Friend,
Powell.[20]
"Bath, July 28."
FOOTNOTES:
[3] Nichols suggests that this and the following number were by Addison, who had sent Steele another packet or two from Ireland since the appearance of No. 32. Perhaps Steele made one paper, headed "The History of Orlando the Fair," serve for two numbers (50, 51). The personal character of these papers may have caused Steele to omit them in the list of Addison's papers which he gave to Tickell. See Tatler, No. 32.
[4] Dr. Radcliffe; see Nos. 44, 46, 47.
[5] See No. 46.
[6] Robert Feilding, commonly known by the name of Beau Feilding, a handsome and very comely gentleman, was tried for felony at the Old Bailey, December 4, 1706. He had married, as the indictment sets forth, on November 25, 1705, Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland, having a former wife then living. In the course of the evidence at this trial, it appears, that sixteen days before, viz. November 9, 1705, Mrs. Villars, a very bad woman, had artfully drawn him into a marriage with one Mary Wadsworth, spinster, in the mistaken belief of her being Mrs. Deleau, a widow, with a fortune of £60,000. His marriage with the duchess was therefore set aside, and her Grace was allowed the liberty of marrying again. He craved the benefit of his clergy, and when sentence was given, that he should be burnt in his hand, produced the Queen's warrant to suspend execution, and was admitted to bail. In his will, dated April 9, 1712, and proved on May 12 following, he is styled "Robert Feilding, of Feilding Hall, in the county of Warwick, Esq.," and appears to have had some estates at Lutterworth. He is mentioned by Swift among those who have made "mean figures" on some remarkable occasions. Feilding, having injured his fortune by his gallantry and extravagance in early life, repaired the breaches he had made in it, by his first marriage with the Countess of Purbeck, a widow lady of an ancient and noble family in Ireland, who had a large fortune of her own, to which she had added considerably by a former marriage; she was the only daughter and heiress of Barnham Swift, Lord Carlingford, who was of the same family with the Dean of St. Patrick's. Feilding is said to have lived happily for some years with this lady, who was a zealous Roman Catholic, and could have no great difficulty in inducing a man who had no religion to profess himself a proselyte to her religious persuasion. See No. 51 (Nichols).—On July 29, 1706, Lady Wentworth wrote to Lord Raby that the Duchess of Cleveland had got Feilding sent to Newgate "for threatning to kill her two sons for taking her part, when he beet her and broke open her closet door and took four hundred pd. out.... He beat her sadly and she cried out murder in the street out of the window, and he shot a blunderbuss at the people" ("Wentworth Papers," pp. 58-9). See, too, Luttrell's "Diary," June, July, and October, 1706, passim.
[7] The side-boxes were usually reserved for men, ladies sitting in the front boxes, and Pope describes men ogling and bowing from the side boxes. See, too, the Spectator, Nos. 311, 377. But Swift ("Polite Conversation," 1738) writes: "Pray, Mr. Neverout, what lady was that you were talking with in the side box?" A wench in a side-box was looked upon with suspicion. See Nos. 145, 217. In the Theatre (No. 3) Steele says: "Three of the fair sex for the front boxes, two gentlemen of wit and pleasure for the side boxes, and three substantial citizens for the pit!"
[8] Barbara, daughter and heiress to William Villiers, Viscount Grandison. She became the mistress of Charles II., who made her husband—Roger Palmer—Earl of Castlemain, and afterwards made her Duchess of Cleveland. On Lord Castlemain's death in 1705 she married Beau Feilding, from whom she was subsequently divorced. She died of dropsy on October 9, 1709.
[9] An allusion to Cardell Goodman, the actor (died 1699), one of the "mighty persons" favoured by the duchess, whose paramour he became. His chief parts were Julius Cæsar and Alexander the Great.
"She what was honour knew,
And with obsequious majesty approved
My pleaded reason."
"Paradise Lost," viii. 507-9.
[11] The Feildings were Counts of the German Empire.
[12] See No. 44: "Our friend the Tatler, under the notion of Mr. Powell at the Bath, has, in my mind, entered into the depth of the argument in dispute [between Hoadly and the Bishop of Exeter] and given a complete answer to all that the reverend Bishop either can or will say upon the subject; and Ben should have referred his lordship to be mumbled, as he calls it, by Mr. Bickerstaff, as his lordship had threatened him with that usage, from the worthy author of Timothy and Philatheus." (Letter from Thomas Sergeant, Esq. to Hughes; "Correspondence of John Hughes, Esq.," 1772, i. 38.)—[Nichols.] A MS. note, which may have been written any time after 1734, when Hoadly was made Bishop of Winchester, has been added in my copy of the original folio number, at the end of this letter: "Written by Dr. Hoadly, Bp: of Winchster." It seems not improbable that Hoadly did himself write this letter.
[13] These words occur in the "Bishop of Exeter's Answer to Mr. Hoadly's Letter," 1709, p. 3.
[14] "And till I can hear of a better reason, &c., I shall not forbear thinking that the true reason of it was, because I am (though unworthy, yet by God's permission and the Queen's favour) a Bishop; and a Bishop is thought by some people to be a sort of an ecclesiastical governor."—("Answer," p. 5.)
[15] Filmer, in his work on Patriarchal Government, contended that all government ought to be absolute and monarchical.
[16] "Why, sir, 1. As to other answer, I don't know but that I might answer it by an action of scand. mag., but that I should scorn to fight an adversary with unequal weapons."—("Bishop of Exeter's Answer," &c., p. 27.)
[17] "If your reply shall be about original contracts, revolutions, &c., I tell you plainly that I ain't at leisure, nor I shan't be at leisure, nor I won't be at leisure, to write you so much as one single line about such matters."—("Answer to Mr. Hoadly's Considerations," &c.)
[18] The allusion is to Oldisworth's "Timothy and Philatheus, in which the principles and projects of a late whimsical book, entitled, 'The Rights of the Christian Church,' &c. [by Dr. Tindal] are fairly stated and answered in their kinds. Written by a Layman." London, three vols. 1709.
[19] "Referring myself to be tried by God and my country, not excepting against any one person's being on the panel, but only Mr. Benjamin Hoadly, Rector of St. Peter's Poor."—("Answer," p. 22.)
[20] "Note: that proper cuts for the historical part of the paper are now almost finished, by an engraver lately arrived from Paris, and will be sold at all the toy shops in London and Westminster." (Folio.)
[No. 51. [Steele.]
From Thursday, August 4, to Saturday, August 6, 1709.
White's Chocolate-house, August 5.
The History of Orlando the Fair.[21] Chap. II.
Fortune being now propitious to the gay Orlando, he dressed, he spoke, he moved, as a man might be supposed to do in a nation of pigmies, and had an equal value for our approbation or dislike. It is usual for those who profess a contempt of the world, to fly from it and live in obscurity; but Orlando, with a greater magnanimity, contemned it, and appeared in it to tell them so. If therefore his exalted mien met with an unwelcome reception, he was sure always to double the cause which gave the distaste. You see our beauties affect a negligence in the ornament of their hair, and adjusting their head-dresses, as conscious that they adorn whatever they wear. Orlando had not only this humour in common with other beauties, but also had a neglect whether things became him or not, in a world he contemned. For this reason, a noble particularity appeared in all his economy, furniture, and equipage. And to convince the present little race, how unequal all their measures were to an antediluvian, as he called himself, in respect of the insects which now appear for men, he sometimes rode in an open tumbril,[22] of less size than ordinary, to show the largeness of his limbs, and the grandeur, of his personage, to the greater advantage: at other seasons, all his appointments had a magnificence, as if it were formed by the genius of Trimalchio[23] of old, which showed itself in doing ordinary things with an air of pomp and grandeur.[24] Orlando therefore called for tea by beat of drum; his valet got ready to shave him by a trumpet "To horse"; and water was brought for his teeth when the sound was changed to "Boots and saddle."
In all these glorious excesses from the common practice, did the happy Orlando live and reign in an uninterrupted tranquillity, till an unlucky accident brought to his remembrance, that one evening he was married before he courted the nuptials of Villaria.[25] Several fatal memorandums were produced to revive the memory of this accident, and the unhappy lover was for ever banished her presence, to whom he owed the support of his just renown and gallantry. But distress does not debase noble minds; it only changes the scene, and gives them new glory by that alteration. Orlando therefore now raves in a garret,[26] and calls to his neighbour-skies to pity his dolors, and find redress for an unhappy lover. All high spirits, in any great agitation of mind, are inclined to relieve themselves by poetry. The renowned porter of Oliver[27] had not more volumes around his cell in the College of Bedlam, than Orlando in his present apartment. And though inserting poetry in the midst of prose be thought a licence among correct writers not to be indulged, it is hoped, the necessity of doing it to give a just idea of the hero of whom we treat, will plead for the liberty we shall hereafter take, to print Orlando's soliloquies in verse and prose, after the manner of great wits, and such as those to whom they are nearly allied.
Will's Coffee-house, August 5.
A great deal of good company of us were this day to see, or rather to hear, an artful person[28] do several feats of activity with his throat and windpipe. The first thing wherewith he presented us, was a ring of bells, which he imitated in a most miraculous manner; after that he gave us all the different notes of a pack of hounds, to our great delight and astonishment. The company expressed their applause with much noise; and never was heard such an harmony of men and dogs: but a certain plump merry fellow, from an angle of the room, fell a crowing like a cock so ingeniously, that he won our hearts from the other operator in an instant. As soon as I saw him, I recollected I had seen him on the stage, and immediately knew it to be Tom Mirrour, the comical actor.[29] He immediately addressed himself to me, and told me, he was surprised to see a virtuoso take satisfaction in any representations below that of human life; and asked me, whether I thought this acting bells and dogs was to be considered under the notion of wit, humour, or satire? "Were it not better," continued he, "to have some particular picture of man laid before your eyes, that might incite your laughter?" He had no sooner spoke the word, but he immediately quitted his natural shape, and talked to me in a very different air and tone from what he had used before; upon which all that sat near us laughed; but I saw no distortion in his countenance, or anything that appeared to me disagreeable. I asked Pacolet, what meant that sudden whisper about us? For I could not take the jest. He answered: "The gentleman you were talking to, assumed your air and countenance so exactly, that all fell a laughing to see how little you knew yourself, or how much you were enamoured with your own image. But that person," continued my monitor, "if men would make the right use of him, might be as instrumental to their reforming errors in gesture, language, and speech, as a dancing-master, linguist, or orator. You see he laid yourself before you with so much address, that you saw nothing particular in his behaviour: he has so happy a knack of representing errors and imperfections, that you can bear your faults in him as well as in yourself: he is the first mimic that ever gave the beauties, as well as the deformities, of the man he acted. What Mr. Dryden said of a very great man[30] may be well applied to him:
He is
Not one, but all mankind's epitome."
You are to know, that this pantomime may be said to be a species of himself. He has no commerce with the rest of mankind, but as they are the objects of imitation; like the Indian fowl, called the mock-bird, who has no note of his own, but hits every sound in the wood as soon as he hears it; so that Mirrour is at once a copy and an original. Poor Mirrour's fate (as well as talent) is like that of the bird we just now spoke of. The nightingale, the linnet, the lark, are delighted with his company; but the buzzard, the crow, and the owl, are observed to be his mortal enemies. Whenever Sophronius meets Mirrour, he receives him with civility and respect, and well knows, a good copy of himself can be no injury to him; but Bathillus shuns the street where he expects to meet him; for he that knows his every step and look is constrained and affected, must be afraid to be rivalled in his action, and of having it discovered to be unnatural, by its being practised by another as well as himself.
From my own Apartment, August 5.
Letters from Coventry and other places have been sent to me, in answer to what I have said in relation to my antagonist Mr. Powell,[31] and advise me, with warm language, to keep to subjects more proper for me than such high points. But the writers of these epistles mistake the use and service I propose to the learned world by such observations: for you are to understand, that the title of this paper gives me a right in taking to myself, and inserting in it, all such parts of any book or letter which are foreign to the purpose intended, or professed by the writer: so that suppose two great divines should argue, and treat each other with warmth and levity unbecoming their subject or character, all that they say unfit for that place is very proper to be inserted here. Therefore from time to time, in all writings which shall hereafter be published, you shall have from me extracts of all that shall appear not to the purpose; and for the benefit of the gentle reader, I will show what to turn over unread and what to peruse. For this end I have a mathematical sieve preparing, in which I will sift every page and paragraph, and all that falls through I shall make bold with for my own use. The same thing will be as beneficial in speech; for all superfluous expressions in talk fall to me also: as, when a pleader at the Bar designs to be extremely impertinent and troublesome, and cries, "Under favour of the Court——With submission, my lord——I humbly offer——" and, "I think I have well considered this matter; for I would be very far from trifling with your lordship's time, or trespassing upon your patience——However, thus I will venture to say"—and so forth. Or else, when a sufficiently self-conceited coxcomb is bringing out something in his own praise, and begins, "Without vanity, I must take this upon me to assert." There is also a trick which the fair sex have, that will greatly contribute to swell my volumes: as, when a woman is going to abuse her best friend, "Pray," says she, "have you heard what I said of Mrs. such a one: I am heartily sorry to hear anything of that kind, of one I have so great a value for; but they make no scruple of telling it; and it was not spoken of to me as a secret, for now all the town rings of it." All such flowers in rhetoric, and little refuges for malice, are to be noted, and naturally belong only to Tatlers. By this method you will immediately find volumes contract themselves into octavos, and the labour of a fortnight got over in half a day.
St. James's Coffee-house, August 5.
Last night arrived a mail from Lisbon, which gives a very pleasing account of the posture of affairs in that part of the world, the enemy having been necessitated wholly to abandon the blockade of Olivenza. These advices say that Sir John Jennings[32] was arrived at Lisbon. When that gentleman left Barcelona, his Catholic Majesty was taking all possible methods for carrying on an offensive war. It is observed with great satisfaction in the Court of Spain, that there is a very good intelligence between the general officers; Count Staremberg and Mr. Stanhope[33] acting in all things with such unanimity, that the public affairs receive great advantages from their personal friendship and esteem to each other, and mutual assistance in promoting the service of the common cause.
This is to give notice that if any able-bodied Palatine will enter into the bonds of matrimony with Betty Pepin,[34] the said Palatine shall be settled in a freehold of 40s. per annum in the County of Middlesex.[35]
FOOTNOTES:
[21] Beau Feilding. See No. 50.
[22] Properly speaking, the tumbril was a truck, the contents of which could be easily shot out. It was often used for the conveyance of corpses.
[23] The "Banquet of Trimalchio" is the most complete and best known of the fragments of Petronius Arbiter's satiric romance "Saturæ."
[24] Egerton (or whoever wrote the "Memoirs of Gamesters") confirms what is here said of Feilding's vanity in displaying his figure (p. 70). Feilding was not a man of real courage; his dress was always extraordinary, and the liveries of his footmen were equally fantastical; they generally wore yellow coats, with black feathers in their hats, and black sashes.—("Memoirs of Gamesters," pp. 208-211.)
[25] The Duchess of Cleveland. See No. 50.
[26] Feilding died of fever, at the age of 61, in a house in Scotland Yard.
[27] Cromwell's porter, Daniel, who was for many years in Bedlam, is said to have been the original from whom Caius Gabriel Cibber copied a figure of a lunatic on the gate of the hospital. He was given to the study of mystical divines. See Dr. King's Works, 1776, i. 217, and Granger's "Biog. Hist." 1824, vi. 12.
[28] Probably Clinch, of Barnet. From the London Daily Post, 1734, it appears that on December 11, in that year, died, aged about 70, the famous Mr. Clinch, of Barnet, who diverted the town many years with imitating a drunken man, old woman, pack of hounds, &c. He exhibited at the corner of Bartholomew Lane, by the Royal Exchange. See Spectator, No. 24.
[29] Estcourt. See No. 20.
[30] George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. See "Absalom and Architophel," p. 545:
"A man so various that he seemed to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome;
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,
Was everything by starts, and nothing long."
[31] Dr. Blackall. See No. 45.
[32] Admiral Sir John Jennings (1664-1743) was employed during 1709-10 in watching the Straits of Gibraltar. Afterwards he was made one of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, and Governor of Greenwich Hospital.
[33] In August James Stanhope, afterwards first Earl Stanhope (1673-1721), went to Gibraltar to command an expedition against Cadiz; but the idea was abandoned.
[34] See No. 24, and "Pylades and Corinna," i. 67.
[35] This is an animadversion, says Nichols, on the method of securing votes, and extending his influence in Middlesex, adopted by a knight near Brentford. In the copy of the Tatler, in folio, with old MS. notes, mentioned in a note to No. 4, Palatine is said to have been "Mr. A—- n, K—- t of the shire"; and this appears to be correct, for on March 3, 1708-9, at Brentford, John Austin, Esq., was unanimously chosen knight of the shire for Middlesex, in the room of Sir John Wolstenholm, deceased (Luttrell's "Diary," vi. 414). Mr. Austin was not re-elected after the dissolution in 1710.
[No. 52. [Steele.]
From Saturday, August 6, to Tuesday August 9, 1709.
White's Chocolate-house, August 7.
Delamira resigns her Fan.[36]
Long had the crowd of the gay and young stood in suspense as to their fate in their passion to the beauteous Delamira; but all their hopes are lately vanished by the declaration that she has made of her choice to take the happy Archibald[37] for her companion for life. Upon her making this public, the expense of sweet powder and jessamine[38] are considerably abated; and the mercers and milliners complain of her want of public spirit, in not concealing longer a secret which was so much to the benefit of trade. But so it has happened; and no one was in confidence with her in carrying on this treaty but the matchless Virgulta, whose despair of ever entering the matrimonial state, made her, some nights before Delamira's resolution was made known to the world, address herself to her in the following manner:
"Delamira, you are now going into that state of life, wherein the use of your charms is wholly to be applied to the pleasing only one man. That swimming air of your body; that jaunty bearing of your head over one shoulder; and that inexpressible beauty in your manner of playing your fan, must be lowered into a more confined behaviour, to show that you would rather shun than receive addresses in the future. Therefore, dear Delamira, give me those excellences you leave, and acquaint me with your manner of charming. For I take the liberty of our friendship to say, that when I consider my own stature, motion, complexion, wit or breeding, I cannot think myself any way your inferior; yet do I go through crowds without wounding a man, and all my acquaintance marry round me, while I live a virgin unasked, and (I think) unregarded."
Delamira heard her with great attention, and with that dexterity which is natural to her, told her, that all she had above the rest of her sex and contemporary beauties was wholly owing to a fan[39] (which was left her by her mother, and had been long in the family), which whoever had in possession, and used with skill, should command the hearts of all her beholders: "And since," said she, smiling, "I have no more to do with extending my conquests or triumphs, I'll make you a present of this inestimable rarity." Virgulta made her expressions of the highest gratitude for so uncommon a confidence in her, and desired she would show her what was peculiar in the management of that utensil, which rendered it of such general force while she was mistress of it. Delamira replied, "You see, madam, Cupid is the principal figure painted on it; and the skill in playing this fan is, in several motions of it, to let him appear as little as possible; for honourable lovers fly all endeavours to ensnare them; and your Cupid must hide his bow and arrow, or he'll never be sure of his game. You may observe," continued she, "that in all public assemblies, the sexes seem to separate themselves, and draw up to attack each other with eyeshot: that is the time when the fan, which is all the armour of woman, is of most use in our defence; for our minds are construed by the waving of that little instrument, and our thoughts appear in composure or agitation according to the motion of it. You may observe, when Will Peregrine comes into the side-box,[40] Miss Gatty flutters her fan[41] as a fly does its wings round a candle; while her elder sister, who is as much in love with him as she is, is as grave as a vestal at his entrance, and the consequence is accordingly. He watches half the play for a glance from her sister, while Gatty is overlooked and neglected. I wish you heartily as much success in the management of it as I have had: if you think fit to go on where I left off, I will give you a short account of the execution I have made with it. Cymon, who is the dullest of mortals, and though a wonderful great scholar, does not only pause, but seems to take a nap with his eyes open between every other sentence in his discourse: him have I made a leader in assemblies; and one blow on the shoulder as I passed by him, has raised him to a downright impertinent in all conversations. The airy Will Sampler is become as lethargic by this my wand, as Cymon is sprightly. Take it, good girl, and use it without mercy; for the reign of beauty never lasted full three years, but it ended in marriage, or condemnation to virginity. As you fear therefore the one, and hope for the other, I expect an hourly journal of your triumphs; for I have it by certain tradition, that it was given to the first who wore it by an enchantress, with this remarkable power, that it bestows a husband in half a year to her who does not overlook her proper minute; but assigns to a long despair the woman who is well offered, and neglects that proposal. May occasion attend your charms, and your charms slip no occasion. Give me, I say, an account of the progress of your forces at our next meeting; and you shall hear what I think of my new condition. I should meet my future spouse this moment. Farewell. Live in just terror of the dreadful words, SHE WAS."
From my own Apartment, August 8.
I had the honour this evening to visit some ladies, where the subject of the conversation was Modesty, which they commended as a quality quite as becoming in men as in women. I took the liberty to say, it might be as beautiful in our behaviour as in theirs; yet it could not be said, it was as successful in life; for as it was the only recommendation in them, so it was the greatest obstacle to us both in love and business. A gentleman present was of my mind, and said, that we must describe the difference between the modesty of women and that of men, or we should be confounded in our reasonings upon it; for this virtue is to be regarded with respect to our different ways of life. The woman's province is to be careful in her economy, and chaste in her affection: the man's to be active in the improvement of his fortune, and ready to undertake whatever is consistent with his reputation for that end. Modesty therefore in a woman has a certain agreeable fear in all she enters upon; and in men it is composed of a right judgment of what is proper for them to attempt. From hence it is, that a discreet man is always a modest one. It is to be noted that modesty in a man is never to be allowed as a good quality, but a weakness, if it suppresses his virtue, and hides it from the world, when he has at the same time a mind to exert himself. A French author says very justly, that modesty is to the other virtues in a man, what shade in a picture is to the parts of the thing represented: it makes all the beauties conspicuous which would otherwise be but a wild heap of colours. This shade on our actions must therefore be very justly applied; for if there be too much, it hides our good qualities, instead of showing them to advantage. Nestor[42] in Athens was an unhappy instance of this truth; for he was not only in his profession the greatest man of that age, but had given more proofs of it than any other man ever did; yet for want of that natural freedom and audacity which is necessary in commerce with men, his personal modesty overthrew all his public actions. Nestor was in those days a skilful architect, and in a manner the inventor of the use of mechanic powers, which he brought to so great perfection that he knew to an atom what foundation would bear such a superstructure: and they record of him that he was so prodigiously exact that for the experiment-sake he built an edifice of great beauty, and seeming strength; but contrived so as to bear only its own parts, and not to admit the addition of the least particle. This building was beheld with much admiration by all the virtuosi of that time; but fell down with no other pressure but the settling of a wren upon the top of it.[43] But Nestor's modesty was such that his art and skill were soon disregarded for want of that manner with which men of the world support and assert the merit of their own performances. Soon after this example of his art Athens was, by the treachery of its enemies, burnt to the ground. This gave Nestor the greatest occasion that ever builder had to render his name immortal, and his person venerable: for all the new city rose according to his disposition, and all the monuments of the glories and distresses of that people were erected by that sole artist. Nay, all their temples, as well as houses, were the effects of his study and labour; insomuch, that it was said by an old sage, "Sure, Nestor will now be famous; for the habitations of gods, as well as men, are built by his contrivance." But this bashful quality still put a damp upon his great knowledge, which has as fatal an effect upon men's reputation as poverty; for as it was said, the poor man saved the city, and the poor man's labour was forgot; so here we see, the modest man built the city, and the modest man's skill was unknown.[44] Thus we see every man is the maker of his own fortune; and what is very odd to consider, he must in some measure be the trumpet of his fame: not that men are to be tolerated who directly praise themselves, but they are to be endued with a sort of defensive eloquence, by which they shall be always capable of expressing the rules and arts by which they govern themselves. Varillus was the man of all I have read of the happiest in the true possession of this quality of modesty. My author says of him, Modesty in Varillus is really a virtue; for it is a voluntary quality, and the effect of good sense. He is naturally bold and enterprising; but so justly discreet, that he never acts or speaks anything, but those who behold him know he has forborne much more than he has performed or uttered, out of deference to the persons before whom he is. This makes Varillus truly amiable, and all his attempts successful; for as bad as the world is thought to be by those who are perhaps unskilled in it, want of success in our actions is generally owing to want of judgment in what we ought to attempt, or a rustic modesty which will not give us leave to undertake what we ought. But how unfortunate this diffident temper is to those who are possessed with it may be best seen in the success of such as are wholly unacquainted with it. We have one peculiar elegance in our language above all others, which is conspicuous in the term "fellow." This word added to any of our adjectives extremely varies, or quite alters the sense of that with which it is joined. Thus, though a modest man is the most unfortunate of all men, yet a modest fellow is as superlatively happy. A modest fellow is a ready creature, who with great humility, and as great forwardness, visits his patrons at all hours, and meets them in all places, and has so moderate an opinion of himself, that he makes his court at large. If you won't give him a great employment, he will be glad of a little one. He has so great a deference for his benefactor's judgment, that as he thinks himself fit for anything he can get, so he is above nothing which is offered; like the young bachelor of arts, who came to town recommended to a chaplain's place; but none being vacant, modestly accepted of that of a postillion. We have very many conspicuous persons of this undertaking yet modest turn; I have a grandson who is very happy in this quality: I sent him at the time of the last peace into France. As soon as he landed at Calais, he sent me an exact account of the nature of the people, and the policies of the King of France. I got him since chosen a member of a corporation: the modest creature, as soon as he came into the Common Council, told a senior burgess, he was perfectly out in the orders of their house. In other circumstances, he is so thoroughly modest a fellow, that he seems to pretend only to things he understands. He is a citizen only at Court, and in the city a courtier. In a word, to speak the characteristical difference between a modest man and a modest fellow; the modest man is in doubt in all his actions; a modest fellow never has a doubt from his cradle to his grave.
FOOTNOTES:
[36] This article may be by Addison; see note to No. 50.
[37] Probably Lord Archibald Hamilton, son to William, third Duke of Hamilton. He was M.P. for Lanarkshire, and afterwards Governor of Jamaica. He married Lady Jane Hamilton, youngest daughter of James, sixth Earl of Abercorn, and died in 1754.
[38] Charles Lillie ("British Perfumer," p. 191) gives directions for making jessamine hair powder. It was usually prepared from orange flowers, which had been sifted from orange-flower hair powder, placed between alternate layers of starch powder.
[39] Gay wrote a poem on "The Fan," in three books, and Addison devoted a paper (Spectator, No. 102) to an elaborate account of the exercise of this female weapon.
[40] See No. 50.
[41] "The Fluttering of the Fan is the last, and, indeed, the masterpiece of the whole exercise.... There is an infinite variety of motions to be made use of in the Flutter of a Fan" (Spectator, No. 102).
[42] The allusion is to Sir Christopher Wren, who died in 1723, in his ninety-first year. He lived, according to the inscription by his son in St. Paul's Cathedral, non sibi, sed bono publico.
[43] This passage alludes to an opposition which was made to a digest of designs for the reparation of St. Paul's, laid before the King and the commissioners in the beginning of 1666, which, the author insinuates, was rather an opposition to Sir C. Wren, than to his plan; it continued, however, till within a few days of the fire on September 2 in that year, which put the reparation of the cathedral out of the question. There was likewise another model of St. Paul's, to which Sir Christopher (certainly the best judge, and far from being mercenary) gave the preference, and which he would have executed with more cheerfulness and satisfaction, had he not been overruled by those whom it was his duty to obey. (Nichols.)
[44] Wren was not able to carry out the scheme for rebuilding the City in the way he had hoped. It appears that he received only about £200 a year for building St. Paul's, and £100 a year for rebuilding the other City churches.
[No. 53. [Steele.]
From Tuesday, August 9, to Thursday, August 10, 1709.
White's Chocolate-house, August 10.
The Civil Husband.[45]
The fate and character of the inconstant Osmyn, is a just excuse for the little notice taken by his widow, of his departure out of this life, which was equally troublesome to Elmira his faithful spouse, and to himself. That life passed between them after this manner, is the reason that the town has just now received a lady with all that gaiety, after having been a relict but three months, which other women hardly assume under fifteen after such a disaster. Elmira is the daughter of a rich and worthy citizen, who gave her to Osmyn with a portion which might have obtained her an alliance with our noblest houses, and fixed her in the eye of the world, where her story had not been now to be related: for her good qualities had made her the object of universal esteem among the polite part of mankind, from whom she has been banished and immured till the death of her gaoler. It is now full fifteen years since that beauteous lady was given into the hands of the happy Osmyn, who in the sense of all the world received at that time a present more valuable than the possession of both the Indies. She was then in her early bloom, with an understanding and discretion very little inferior to the most experienced matrons. She was not beholden to the charms of her sex, that her company was preferable to any Osmyn could meet with abroad; for were all she said considered, without regard to her being a woman, it might stand the examination of the severest judges: for she had all the beauty of her own sex, with all the conversation-accomplishments of ours. But Osmyn very soon grew surfeited with the charms of her person by possession, and of her mind by want of taste; for he was one of that loose sort of men, who have but one reason for setting any value on the fair sex, who consider even brides but as new women, and consequently neglect them when they cease to be such. All the merit of Elmira could not prevent her becoming a mere wife within few months after her nuptials; and Osmyn had so little relish for her conversation, that he complained of the advantages of it. "My spouse," said he to one of his companions, "is so very discreet, so good, so virtuous, and I know not what, that I think her person is rather the object of esteem than of love; and there is such a thing as a merit, which causes rather distance than passion." But there being no medium in the state of matrimony, their life began to take the usual gradations to become the most irksome of all beings. They grew in the first place very complaisant; and having at heart a certain knowledge that they were indifferent to each other, apologies were made for every little circumstance which they thought betrayed their mutual coldness. This lasted but few months, when they showed a difference of opinion in every trifle; and as a sign of certain decay of affection, the word "perhaps" was introduced in all their discourse. "I have a mind to go to the Park," says she; "but perhaps, my dear, you will want the coach on some other occasion." He would very willingly carry her to the play; but perhaps, she had rather go to Lady Centaur's[46] and play at ombre.[47] They were both persons of good discerning, and soon found that they mortally hated each other, by their manner of hiding it. Certain it is, that there are some genios which are not capable of pure affection, and a man is born with talents for it as much as for poetry or any other science. Osmyn began too late to find the imperfection of his own heart, and used all the methods in the world to correct it, and argue himself into return of desire and passion for his wife, by the contemplation of her excellent qualities, his great obligations to her, and the high value he saw all the world except himself did put upon her. But such is man's unhappy condition, that though the weakness of the heart has a prevailing power over the strength of the head, yet the strength of the head has but small force against the weakness of the heart. Osmyn therefore struggled in vain to revive departed desire; and therefore resolved to retire to one of his estates in the country, and pass away his hours of wedlock by the noble diversions of the field; and in the fury of a disappointed lover, made an oath, to leave neither stag, fox, nor hare living, during the days of his wife. Besides that country sports would be an amusement, he hoped also, that his spouse would be half killed by the very sense of seeing this town no more, and would think her life ended as soon as she left it. He communicated his design to Elmira, who received it (as now she did all things) like a person too unhappy to be relieved or afflicted by the circumstance of place. This unexpected resignation made Osmyn resolve to be as obliging to her as possible; and if he could not prevail upon himself to be kind, he took a resolution at least to act sincerely, and to communicate frankly to her the weakness of his temper, to excuse the indifference of his behaviour. He disposed his household in the way to Rutland, so as he and his lady travelled only in the coach for the convenience of discourse. They had not gone many miles out of town, when Osmyn spoke to this purpose:
"My dear, I believe I look quite as silly, now I am going to tell you I do not love you, as when I first told you I did. We are now going into the country together, with only one hope for making this life agreeable, survivorship: desire is not in our power; mine is all gone for you. What shall we do to carry it with decency to the world, and hate one another with discretion?"
The lady answered without the least observation on the extravagance of his speech:
"My dear, you have lived most of your days in a Court, and I have not been wholly unacquainted with that sort of life. In Courts, you see good-will is spoken with great warmth, ill will covered with great civility. Men are long in civilities to those they hate, and short in expressions of kindness to those they love. Therefore, my dear, let us be well-bred still, and it is no matter, as to all who see us, whether we love or hate: and to let you see how much you are beholden to me for my conduct, I have both hated and despised you, my dear, this half year; and yet neither in language nor behaviour has it been visible but that I loved you tenderly. Therefore, as I know you go out of town to divert life in pursuit of beasts, and conversation with men just above them; so, my life, from this moment, I shall read all the learned cooks who have ever writ, study broths, plaisters, and conserves, till from a fine lady I become a notable woman. We must take our minds a note or two lower, or we shall be tortured by jealousy or anger. Thus I am resolved to kill all keen passions by employing my mind on little subjects, and lessening the easiness of my spirit; while you, my dear, with much ale, exercise, and ill company, are so good as to endeavour to be as contemptible as it is necessary for my quiet I should think you."
To Rutland they arrived, and lived with great, but secret impatience for many successive years, till Osmyn thought of a happy expedient to give their affairs a new turn. One day he took Elmira aside, and spoke as follows:
"My dear, you see here the air is so temperate and serene, the rivulets, the groves, and soil, so extremely kind to nature, that we are stronger and firmer in our health since we left the town; so that there is no hope of a release in this place: but if you will be so kind as to go with me to my estate in the Hundreds of Essex, it is possible some kind damp may one day or other relieve us. If you will condescend to accept of this offer, I will add that whole estate to your jointure in this county."
Elmira, who was all goodness, accepted the offer, removed accordingly, and has left her spouse in that place to rest with his fathers.
This is the real figure in which Elmira ought to be beheld in this town, and not thought guilty of an indecorum, in not professing the sense, or bearing the habit of sorrow, for one who robbed her of all the endearments of life, and gave her only common civility, instead of complacency of manners, dignity of passion, and that constant assemblage of soft desires and affections which all feel who love, but none can express.
Will's Coffee-house, August 10.
Mr. Truman, who is a mighty admirer of dramatic poetry, and knows I am about a tragedy, never meets me, but he is giving admonitions and hints for my conduct. "Mr. Bickerstaff," said he, "I was reading last night your second act you were so kind to lend me; but I find you depend mightily upon the retinue of your hero to make him magnificent. You make guards, and ushers, and courtiers, and commons, and nobles, march before, and then enters your prince, and says they can't defend him from his love. Why, prithee Isaac, who ever thought they could? Place me your loving monarch in a solitude; let him have no sense at all of his grandeur, but let it be eaten up with his passion. He must value himself as the greatest of lovers, not as the first of princes: and then let him say a more tender thing than ever man said before—for his feather and eagle's beak is nothing at all. The man is to be expressed by his sentiments and affections, and not by his fortune or equipage. You are also to take care, that at his first entrance he says something which may give us an idea of what we are to expect in a person of his way of thinking. Shakespeare is your pattern."[48] In the tragedy of "Cæsar," he introduces his hero in his nightgown. He had at that time all the power of Rome: deposed consuls, subordinate generals, and captive princes, might have preceded him; but his genius was above such mechanic methods of showing greatness. Therefore he rather presents that great soul debating upon the subject of life and death with his intimate friends, without endeavouring to prepossess his audience with empty show and pomp. When those who attend him talk of the many omens which had appeared that day, he answers:
Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come, when it will come.[49]
When the hero has spoken this sentiment, there is nothing that is great which cannot be expected, from one whose first position is the contempt of death to so high a degree, as making his exit a thing wholly indifferent, and not a part of his care, but that of heaven and fate.
St. James's Coffee-house, August 10.
Letters from Brussels of the 15th instant, N.S., say, that Major-General Ravignan returned on the 8th with the French king's answer to the intended capitulation for the citadel of Tournay; which is, that he does not think fit to sign that capitulation, except the Allies will grant a cessation of arms in general, during the time in which all acts of hostility were to have ceased between the citadel and the besiegers. Soon after the receipt of this news, the cannon on each side began to play. There are two attacks against the citadel, commanded by General Lottum and General Schuylemberg, which are both carried on with great success; and it is not doubted but the citadel will be in the hands of the Allies before the last day of this month. Letters from Ipres say, that on the 9th instant, part of the garrison of that place had mutinied in two bodies, each consisting of two hundred; who being dispersed the same day, a body of eight hundred appeared in the market-place at nine the night following, and seized all manner of provisions; but were with much difficulty quieted. The governor has not punished any of the offenders, the dissatisfaction being universal in that place; and it is thought, the officers foment those disorders; that the Ministry may be convinced of the necessity of paying those troops, and supplying them with provisions. These advices add, that on the 14th the Marquis d'Este passed express through Brussels from the Duke of Savoy, with advice, that the army of his royal highness had forced the retrenchments of the enemy in Savoy, and defeated that body of men which guarded those passes under the command of the Marquis de Thouy.
FOOTNOTES:
[45] Perhaps this article is by Addison; see note to No. 50.
[46] The name of a character in Jonson's "Silent Woman."
[47] A game of cards played by three persons, of which particulars will be found in Pope's "Rape of the Lock."
[48] In the Spectator, No. 42, Addison ridiculed the way in which dignity was sought for the hero on the stage by means of grand dresses and guards with halberts and battleaxes. "Can all the trappings or equipage of a king or hero give Brutus half that pomp and majesty which he receives from a few lines in Shakespeare?"
[49] "Julius Cæsar," act ii. sc. 2.
[No. 54. [Steele.]
From Thursday, August 11, to Saturday, August 13, 1709.
White's Chocolate-house, August 12.
Of the Government of Affection.[50]
When labour was pronounced to be the portion of man, that doom reached the affections of his mind, as well as his person, the matter on which he was to feed, and all the animal and vegetable world about him. There is therefore an assiduous care and cultivation to be bestowed upon our passions and affections; for they, as they are the excrescences of our souls, like our hair and beards, look horrid or becoming, as we cut or let them grow. All this grave preface is meant to assign a reason in nature for the unaccountable behaviour of Duumvir,[51] the husband and keeper. Ten thousand follies had this unhappy man escaped, had he made a compact with himself to be upon his guard, and not permitted his vagrant eye to let in so many different inclinations upon him, as all his days he has been perplexed with. But indeed at present he has brought himself to be confined only to one prevailing mistress; between whom and his wife, Duumvir passes his hours in all the vicissitudes which attend passion and affection, without the intervention of reason. Laura his wife, and Phyllis his mistress, are all with whom he has had, for some months, the least amorous commerce. Duumvir has passed the noon of life; but cannot withdraw from those entertainments which are pardonable only before that stage of our being, and which after that season are rather punishments than satisfaction: for palled appetite is humorous, and must be gratified with sauces rather than food. For which end Duumvir is provided with an haughty, imperious, expensive, and fantastic mistress, to whom he retires from the conversation of an affable, humble, discreet, and affectionate wife. Laura receives him after absence with an easy and unaffected complacency; but that he calls insipid: Phyllis rates him for his absence, and bids him return from whence he came: this he calls spirit and fire. Laura's gentleness is thought mean; Phyllis' insolence, sprightly. Were you to see him at his own home, and his mistress's lodgings, to Phyllis he appears an obsequious lover, to Laura an imperious master. Nay, so unjust is the taste of Duumvir, that he owns Laura has no ill quality, but that she is his wife; Phyllis no good one, but that she is his mistress. And he has himself often said, were he married to any one else, he would rather keep Laura than any woman living; yet allows at the same time, that Phyllis, were she a woman of honour, would have been the most insipid animal breathing. The other day Laura, who has a voice like an angel, began to sing to him: "Fie, madam," he cried, "we must be past all these gaieties." Phyllis has a note as rude and as loud as that of a milkmaid: when she begins to warble, "Well," says he, "there is such a pleasing simplicity in all that wench does." In a word, the affectionate part of his heart being corrupted, and his true taste that way wholly lost, he has contracted a prejudice to all the behaviour of Laura, and a general partiality in favour of Phyllis. It is not in the power of the wife to do a pleasing thing, nor in the mistress to commit one that is disagreeable. There is something too melancholy in the reflection on this circumstance to be the subject of raillery. He said a sour thing to Laura at dinner the other day; upon which she burst into tears. "What the devil, madam," says he, "can't I speak in my own house?" He answered Phyllis a little abruptly at supper the same evening; upon which she threw his periwig into the fire. "Well," said he, "thou art a brave termagant jade; do you know, hussy, that fair wig cost forty guineas?" O Laura! is it for this that the faithful Chromius sighed for you in vain? How is thy condition altered, since crowds of youth hung on thy eye, and watched its glances? It is not many months since Laura was the wonder and pride of her own sex, as well as the desire and passion of ours. At plays and at balls, the just turn of her behaviour, the decency of her virgin charms, chastised, yet added to diversions. At public devotions, her winning modesty, her resigned carriage, made virtue and religion appear with new ornaments, and in the natural apparel of simplicity and beauty. In ordinary conversations, a sweet conformity of manners, and a humility which heightened all the complacencies of good breeding and education, gave her more slaves than all the pride of her sex ever made woman wish for. Laura's hours are now spent in the sad reflections on her choice, and that deceitful vanity (almost inseparable from the sex) of believing, she could reclaim one that had so often ensnared others; as it now is, it is not even in the power of Duumvir himself to do her justice: for though beauty and merit are things real, and independent on taste and opinion, yet agreeableness is arbitrary, and the mistress has much the advantage of the wife. But whenever fate is so kind to her and her spouse as to end her days, with all this passion for Phyllis, and indifference for Laura, he has a second wife in view, who may avenge the injuries done to her predecessor. Aglaura is the destined lady, who has lived in assemblies, has ambition and play for her entertainment, and thinks of a man, not as the object of love, but the tool of her interest or pride. If ever Aglaura comes to the empire of this inconstant, she will endear the memory of her predecessor. But in the meantime, it is melancholy to consider, that the virtue of a wife is like the merit of a poet, never justly valued till after death.
From my own Apartment, August 11.
As we have professed, that all the actions of men are our subject, the most solemn are not to be omitted, if there happen to creep into their behaviour anything improper for such occasions. Therefore the offence mentioned in the following epistles (though it may seem to be committed in a place sacred from observation) is such, that it is our duty to remark upon it; for though he who does it is himself only guilty of an indecorum, he occasions a criminal levity in all others who are present at it.
"Mr. Bickerstaff,
"It being mine, as well as the opinion of many others, that your papers are extremely well fitted to reform any irregular or indecent practice, I present the following as one which requires your correction. Myself, and a great many good people who frequent the divine service at St. Paul's, have been a long time scandalised by the imprudent conduct of Stentor[52] in that cathedral. This gentleman, you must know, is always very exact and zealous in his devotion, which, I believe, nobody blames; but then he is accustomed to roar and bellow so terribly loud in the responses, that he frightens even us of the congregation, who are daily used to him; and one of our petty canons, a punning Cambridge scholar,[53] calls his way of worship, a bull offering. His harsh untunable pipe is no more fit than a raven's to join with the music of a choir; yet nobody having been enough his friend, I suppose, to inform him of it, he never fails, when present, to drown the harmony of every hymn and anthem, by an inundation of sound beyond that of the bridge at the ebb of the tide, or the neighbouring lions in the anguish of their hunger. This is a grievance which, to my certain knowledge, several worthy people desire to see redressed; and if by inserting this epistle in your paper, or by representing the matter your own way, you can convince Stentor, that discord in a choir is the same sin that schism is in the Church in general, you would lay a great obligation upon us, and make some atonement for certain of your paragraphs which have not been highly approved by us. I am,
"Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
Jeoffry Chanticleer.
"St. Paul's Churchyard, August 11."
It is wonderful there should be such a general lamentation, and the grievance so frequent, and yet the offender never know anything of it. I have received the following letter from my kinsman at the Heralds' Office, near the same place:
"Dear Cousin,
"This office, which has had its share in the impartial justice of your censures, demands at present your vindication of their rights and privileges. There are certain hours when our young heralds are exercised in the faculties of making proclamation, and other vociferations, which of right belong to us only to utter: but at the same hours, Stentor in St. Paul's Church, in spite of the coaches, carts, London cries, and all other sounds between us, exalts his throat to so high a key, that the most noisy of our order is utterly unheard. If you please to observe upon this, you will ever oblige, &c."
There have been communicated to me some other ill consequences from the same cause; as, the overturning of coaches by sudden starts of the horses as they passed that way, women pregnant frightened, and heirs to families lost; which are public disasters, though arising from a good intention: but it is hoped, after this admonition, that Stentor will avoid an act of so great supererogation, as singing without a voice.
But I am diverted from prosecuting Stentor's reformation, by an account, that the two faithful lovers, Lysander and Coriana, are dead; for no longer ago than the 1st of the last month they swore eternal fidelity to each other, and to love till death. Ever since that time, Lysander has been twice a day at the chocolate-house, visits in every circle, is missing four hours in four and twenty, and will give no account of himself. These are undoubted proofs of the departure of a lover; and consequently Coriana is also dead as a mistress. I have written to Stentor to give this couple three calls at the church door, which they must hear if they are living within the bills of mortality; and if they do not answer at that time, they are from that moment added to the number of my defunct.[54]
FOOTNOTES:
[50] This article may be by Addison; see note to No. 50.
[51] It has been suggested that Duumvir is meant for the Duke of Ormond, and this view is supported by the MS. annotator mentioned in a note to No. 4. James Butler, second Duke of Ormond, married, at the age of eighteen, Anne, daughter of Lord Hyde, afterward Earl of Rochester. After her death in 1685 he married Lady Mary Somerset, daughter of Henry, first Duke of Beaufort. In 1711 he became Captain-General and Commander-in-Chief of the land forces, but after the accession of George I. he was impeached of high treason, and attainted. He died in exile in 1745.
[52] Dr. William Stanley, Dean of St. Asaph and Canon of St. Paul's, where he was buried on his death in 1731. The loudness of his voice is alluded to again in Nos. 56, 61, 67, 70, and 241.
[53] "Mr. C—l—n" (MS. note).—This was probably John Colson (1680-1760), who became Lucasian professor of mathematics in 1739. He is described by Cole, the antiquary, as "an humourist and peevish."
[No. 55. [Steele.]
From Saturday, August 13, to Tuesday, August 16, 1709.
----Paulo majora canamus.—Virg., Ecl. iv. 1.
White's Chocolate-house, August 15.
While others are busied in relations which concern the interests of princes, the peace of nations, and revolutions of empire, I think (though these are very large subjects) my theme of discourse is sometimes to be of matters of a yet higher consideration. The slow steps of Providence and Nature, and strange events which are brought about in an instant, are what, as they come within our view and observation, shall be given to the public. Such things are not accompanied with show and noise, and therefore seldom draw the eyes of the unattentive part of mankind; but are very proper at once to exercise our humanity, please our imaginations, and improve our judgments. It may not therefore be unuseful to relate many circumstances, which were observable upon a late cure done upon a young gentleman who was born blind, and on the 29th of June last received his sight at the age of twenty years, by the operation of an oculist. This happened no farther off than Newington, and the work was prepared for in the following manner: The operator, Mr. Grant,[55] having observed the eyes of his patient, and convinced his friends and relations, among others the Rev. Mr. Caswell, minister of the place, that it was highly probable he should remove the obstacle which prevented the use of his sight; all his acquaintance, who had any regard for the young man, or curiosity to be present when one of full age and understanding received a new sense, assembled themselves on this occasion. Mr. Caswell[56] being a gentleman particularly curious, desired the whole company, in case the blindness should be cured, to keep silence, and let the patient make his own observations, without the direction of anything he had received by his other senses, or the advantage of discovering his friends by their voices. Among several others, the mother, brethren, sisters, and a young gentlewoman for whom he had a passion, were present. The work was performed with great skill and dexterity. When the patient first received the dawn of light, there appeared such an ecstasy in his action, that he seemed ready to swoon away in the surprise of joy and wonder. The surgeon stood before him with his instruments in his hand. The young man observed him from head to foot; after which he surveyed himself as carefully, and seemed to compare him to himself; and observing both their hands, seemed to think they were exactly alike, except the instruments, which he took for parts of his hands. When he had continued in this amazement some time, his mother could not longer bear the agitations of so many passions as thronged upon her, but fell upon his neck, crying out, "My son! my son!" The youth knew her voice, and could speak no more than, "Oh me! are you my mother?" and fainted. The whole room, you will easily conceive, were very affectionately employed in recovering him; but above all, the young gentlewoman who loved him, and whom he loved, shrieked in the loudest manner. That voice seemed to have a sudden effect upon him as he recovered, and he showed a double curiosity in observing her as she spoke and called to him; till at last he broke out, "What has been done to me? Whither am I carried? Is all this about me, the thing I have heard so often of? Is this the light? Is this seeing? Were you always thus happy, when you said you were glad to see each other? Where is Tom, who used to lead me? But I could now, methinks, go anywhere without him." He offered to move, but seemed afraid of everything around him. When they saw his difficulty, they told him, till he became better acquainted with his new being, he must let the servant still lead him. The boy was called for, and presented to him. Mr. Caswell asked him, what sort of thing he took Tom to be before he had seen him. He answered, he believed there was not so much of him as of himself; but he fancied him the same sort of creature. The noise of this sudden change made all the neighbourhood throng to the place where he was. As he saw the crowd thickening, he desired Mr. Caswell to tell him how many there were in all to be seen. The gentleman, smiling, answered him, that it would be very proper for him to return to his late condition, and suffer his eyes to be covered, till they had received strength; for he might remember well enough, that by degrees he had from little and little come to the strength he had at present in his ability of walking and moving; and that it was the same thing with his eyes, which, he said, would lose the power of continuing to him that wonderful transport he was now in, except he would be contented to lay aside the use of them, till they were strong enough to bear the light without so much feeling, as he knew he underwent at present. With much reluctance he was prevailed upon to have his eyes bound, in which condition they kept him in a dark room, till it was proper to let the organ receive its objects without further precaution. During the time of this darkness, he bewailed himself in the most distressed manner, and accused all his friends, complaining, that some incantation had been wrought upon him, and some strange magic used to deceive him into an opinion, that he had enjoyed what they called sight. He added, that the impressions then let in upon his soul would certainly distract him, if he were not so at that present. At another time he would strive to name the persons he had seen among the crowd after he was couched, and would pretend to speak (in perplexed terms of his own making) of what he in that short time observed, But on the 6th instant it was thought fit to unbind his head, and the young woman whom he loved was instructed to open his eyes accordingly, as well to endear herself to him by such a circumstance, as to moderate his ecstasies by the persuasion of a voice, which had so much power over him as hers ever had. When this beloved young woman began to restore him, she talked to him as follows:
"Mr. William, I am now taking the binding off, though when I consider what I am doing, I tremble with the apprehension, that (though I have from my very childhood loved you, dark as you were, and though you had conceived so strong a love for me) yet you will find there is such a thing as beauty, which may ensnare you into a thousand passions of which you now are innocent, and take you from me for ever. But before I put myself to that hazard, tell me in what manner that love you always professed to me entered into your heart; for its usual admission is at the eyes."
The young man answered, "Dear Lydia, if I am to lose by sight the soft pantings which I have always felt when I heard your voice; if I am no more to distinguish the step of her I love when she approaches me, but to change that sweet and frequent pleasure for such an amazement as I knew the little time I lately saw: or if I am to have anything besides, which may take from me the sense I have of what appeared most pleasing to me at that time (which apparition it seems was you): pull out these eyes, before they lead me to be ungrateful to you, or undo myself. I wished for them but to see you; pull them out, if they are to make me forget you."
Lydia was extremely satisfied with these assurances; and pleased herself with playing with his perplexities. In all his talk to her, he showed but very faint ideas of anything which had not been received at the ear; and closed his protestation to her by saying, that if he were to see Valentia and Barcelona, whom he supposed the most esteemed of all women, by the quarrel there was about them, he would never like any but Lydia.
St. James's Coffee-house, August 15.
We have repeated advices of the entire defeat of the Swedish army near Pultowa[57] on the 27th June, O.S., and letters from Berlin give the following account of the remains of the Swedish army since the battle: Prince Menzikoff being ordered to pursue the victory, came up with the Swedish army (which was left to the command of General Lewenhaupt) on the 30th of June, O.S., on the banks of the Boristhenes; whereupon he sent General Lewenhaupt a summons to submit to his present fortune: Lewenhaupt immediately despatched three general officers to that prince, to treat about a capitulation; but the Swedes, though they consisted of 15,000 men, were in so great want of provision and ammunition, that they were obliged to surrender themselves at discretion. His Czarish Majesty despatched an express to General Goltz, with an account of these particulars, and also with instructions to send out detachments of his cavalry to prevent the King of Sweden's joining his army in Poland. That prince made his escape with a small party by swimming over the Boristhenes; and it was thought, he designed to retire into Poland by the way of Volhinia. Advices from Berne of the 11th instant say, that the General Diet of the Helvetic Body held at Baden concluded on the 6th; but the deputies of the six cantons, who are deputed to determine the affair of Tockenburg, continue their application to that business, notwithstanding some new difficulties started by the Abbot of St. Gall. Letters from Geneva of the 9th say, that the Duke of Savoy's cavalry had joined Count Thaun, as had also two Imperial regiments of hussars; and that his royal highness's army was disposed in the following manner: the troops under the command of Count Thaun are extended from Constans to St. Peter de Albigni. Small parties are left in several posts from thence to Little St. Bernard, to preserve the communication with Piedmont by the Valley of Aosta. Some forces are also posted at Taloir, and in the Castle of Doin, on each side of the Lake of Anneci. General Rhebinder is encamped in the Valley of Oulx with 10,000 foot, and some detachments of horse: his troops are extended from Exilles to Mount Genevre, so that he may easily penetrate into Dauphine on the least motion of the enemy; but the Duke of Berwick takes all necessary precautions to prevent such an enterprise. That General's headquarters are at Francin; and he hath disposed his army in several parties, to preserve a communication with the Maurienne and Briançon. He hath no provisions for his army but from Savoy; Provence and Dauphine being unable to supply him with necessaries. He left two regiments of dragoons at Annen, who suffered very much in the late action at Tessons, where they lost 1500 who were killed on the spot, 4 standards, and 300 prisoners, among whom were 40 officers. The last letters from the Duke of Marlborough's camp at Orchies of the 19th instant advise, that Monsieur Ravignan being returned from the French Court with an account, that the King of France refused to ratify the capitulation for the surrender of the citadel of Tournay, the approaches have been carried on with great vigour and success: our miners have discovered several of the enemy's mines, who have sprung divers others, which did little execution; but for the better security of the troops, both assaults are carried on by the cautious way of sapping. On the 18th, the confederate army made a general forage without any loss. Marshal Villars continues in his former camp, and applies himself with great diligence in casting up new lines behind the old on the Scarp. The Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene designed to begin a general review of the army on the 20th.
FOOTNOTES:
[54] "Deceased" (folio).
[55] Roger Grant was sworn oculist and operator in ordinary to Queen Anne, September 27, 1710; and on the death of Sir William Read, he was sworn oculist in ordinary to George I. in 1715 (Weekly Packet, No. 159). He died in 1724. A pamphlet, published in 1709, price 2d., called, "A full and true Account of a Miraculous Cure of a Young Man in Newington, that was born Blind, and was in Five Minutes brought to perfect Sight. By Mr. Roger Grant, Oculist," was in reality intended to expose Grant as an impostor. William Jones, son of Annabella Jones, of Newington, Surrey, was, in the twentieth year of his age, couched by Grant, on June 19, 1709. On Sunday, July 24, he went, we are told, to the parish church of St. Mary, Newington, and requested the minister to offer up thanks for his recovery; and next day he and his mother went to the minister to ask him to certify a statement to the effect that Jones was born blind and now had his sight very well. The minister objected to doing this, although Jones and his mother urged that Grant would charge for the cure if they did not get the certificate. The pamphlet states that at last they got the minister's signature forged, and then Grant published the certificate in the Daily Courant for July 30, 1709. On August 16 another paper came out, stating that the minister was present at the operation. The minister told all who made inquiries the truth; that the boy was not born blind, but only with an imperfection in his sight; and that now he saw very little with the left eye, and not at all with the right. On August 8, Grant got the mother to make an affidavit respecting her son's blindness and cure before a magistrate. This affidavit is printed in the "British Apollo," vol. ii. No. 91 (January 20 to 23, 1710). The following advertisement is taken from the same periodical, vol. ii. No. 39 (August 5 to 10, 1709): "As it would be no less disrespectful and injurious to the public, to conceal the merits of Mr. Grant, oculist; therefore, we, the Minister, Churchwardens, and Overseers of the poor of the parish of St. Mary, Newington Butts, do certify, that William Jones, of the same parish, aged twenty years, who was born blind, on his application to Mr. Grant aforesaid, who dwells in St. Christopher's Court, behind the Royal Exchange, was by him couched on Wednesday, June 29, 1709, and by the blessing of God, on the skilful hand of Mr. Grant, the said Jones, in five minutes' time, was brought to see, and at this time hath his sight very well. This case being so particularly remarkable, and gratisly performed, we do, therefore, give this public testimony under our hands, this 25th of July, 1709.—Minister, William Taswell; Churchwardens, James Comber, William Dale; Overseers, Francis Trosse, William Benskin, Walker Wood, John Ship." The Jones case is included in a list of Grant's cures, "Account of some Cures," &c., printed on a folio sheet which is supposed to have been issued in 1713 (Brit. Mus. 1830, c. (18)). The pamphleteer from whom I have quoted, adds that Grant was bred up a cobbler, or, as some say, a tinker; and he was an Anabaptist preacher. Nichols says that "Grant seems to have been more ingenious and reputable than most of his brother and sister oculists; but, if we may judge from his very numerous advertisements, he was not less vain, or less indelicate." A correspondent of the Spectator (see No. 472) bore testimony to the benefit he had himself derived from Grant, and said that many blind persons had been cured.
[56] Dr. William Taswell (here called Caswell), king's scholar at Westminster, was elected student of Christ Church in 1670. He became M.A. in 1677, B.D. in 1685, and D.D. in 1698.
[57] Charles XII. of Sweden was defeated by the Czar at Pultowa in July 1709, and was wounded by a musket-ball in the heel. After the defeat of his army he crossed the Boristhenes with three hundred men. Two thousand Swedes under General Lewenhaupt surrendered to Prince Menzikoff on the banks of the Boristhenes after the battle. Charles XII. sought refuge among the Turks, and retired to Bender.
[No. 56. [Steele.]
From Tuesday, August 16, to Thursday, August 18, 1709.
Quicquid agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli.
Juv., Sat. I. 85, 86.
White's Chocolate-house, August 17.
There is a young foreigner committed to my care, who puzzles me extremely in the questions he asks about the persons of figure we meet in public places. He has but very little of our language, and therefore I am mightily at a loss to express to him things, for which they have no word in that tongue to which he was born. It has been often my answer, upon his asking, who such a fine gentleman is? that he is what we call a "sharper," and he wants my explication. I thought it would be very unjust to tell him, he is the same the French call Coquin; the Latins, Nebulo; or the Greeks, Ράσκαλ.[58] For as custom is the most powerful of all laws, and that the order of men we call sharpers are received amongst us, not only with permission, but favour, I thought it unjust to use them like persons upon no establishment. Besides that, it would be an unpardonable dishonour to our country, to let him leave us with an opinion, that our nobility and gentry kept company with common thieves and cheats; I told him, they were a sort of tame hussars that were allowed in our cities, like the wild ones in our camp, who had all the privileges belonging to us, but at the same time were not tied to our discipline or laws. Aletheus, who is a gentleman of too much virtue for the age he lives in, would not let this matter be thus palliated, but told my pupil, that he was to understand, that distinction, quality, merit, and industry, were laid aside amongst us by the incursions of these civil hussars, who had got so much countenance, that the breeding and fashion of the age turned their way to the ruin of order and economy in all places where they are admitted. But Sophronius, who never falls into heat upon any subject, but applies proper language, temper, and skill, with which the thing in debate is to be treated, told the youth, that gentleman had spoken nothing, but what was literally true; but fell upon it with too much earnestness to give a true idea of that sort of people he was declaiming against, or to remedy the evil which he bewailed: for the acceptance of these men being an ill which hath crept into the conversation part of our lives, and not into our constitution itself, it must be corrected where it began, and consequently is to be amended only by bringing raillery and derision upon the persons who are guilty, or converse with them. "For the sharpers," continued he, "at present are not as formerly, under the acceptation of pickpockets; but are by custom erected into a real and venerable body of men, and have subdued us to so very particular a deference to them, that though they are known to be men without honour or conscience, no demand is called a debt of honour so indisputably as theirs. You may lose your honour to them, but they lay none against you: as the priesthood in Roman Catholic countries can purchase what they please for the Church, but they can alienate nothing from it. It is from this toleration, that sharpers are to be found among all sorts of assemblies and companies, and every talent amongst men is made use of by some one or other of the society for the good of their common cause: so that an unexperienced young gentleman is as often ensnared by his understanding as his folly: for who could be unmoved, to hear the eloquent Dromio explain the constitution, talk in the key of Cato, with the severity of one of the ancient sages, and debate the greatest question of State in a common chocolate or coffee-house; who could, I say, hear this generous declamator, without being fired at his noble zeal, and becoming his professed follower, if he might be admitted. Monoculus'[59] gravity would be no less inviting to a beginner in conversation, and the snare of his eloquence would equally catch one who had never seen an old gentleman so very wise, and yet so little severe. Many other instances of extraordinary men among the brotherhood might be produced; but every man who knows the town, can supply himself with such examples without their being named." Will. Vafer, who is skilful at finding out the ridiculous side of a thing, and placing it in a new and proper light (though he very seldom talks), thought fit to enter into this subject. He has lately lost certain loose sums, which half the income of his estate will bring in within seven years: besides which, he proposes to marry to set all right. He was therefore indolent enough to speak of this matter with great impartiality. "When I look round me," said this easy gentleman, "and consider in a just balance us bubbles, elder brothers, whose support our dull fathers contrived to depend upon certain acres; with the rooks, whose ancestors left them the wide world; I cannot but admire their fraternity, and contemn my own. Is not Jack Heyday much to be preferred to the knight he has bubbled? Jack has his equipage, his wenches, and his followers: the knight so far from a retinue, that he is almost one of Jack's. However, he is gay, you see, still; a florid outside—his habit speaks the man—and since he must unbutton, he would not be reduced outwardly, but is stripped to his upper coat. But though I have great temptation to it, I will not at this time give the history of the losing side, but speak the effects of my thoughts, since the loss of my money, upon the gaining people. This ill fortune makes most men contemplative and given to reading; at least it has happened so to me; and the rise and fall of the family of sharpers in all ages has been my contemplation."
I find, all times have had of this people; Homer, in his excellent heroic poem, calls them Myrmidons, who were a body who kept among themselves, and had nothing to lose; therefore never spared either Greek or Trojan, when they fell in their way, upon a party. But there is a memorable verse which gives us an account of what broke that whole body, and made both Greeks and Trojans masters of the secret of their warfare and plunder. There is nothing so pedantic as many quotations; therefore I shall inform you only, that in this battalion there were two officers called Thersites and Pandarus; they were both less renowned for their beauty than their wit; but each had this particular happiness, that they were plunged over head and ears in the same water, which made Achilles invulnerable; and had ever after certain gifts which the rest of the world were never to enjoy. Among others, they were never to know they were the most dreadful to the sight of all mortals, never to be diffident of their own abilities, never to blush, or ever to be wounded but by each other. Though some historians say, gaming began among the Lydians to divert hunger, I could cite many authorities to prove it had its rise at the siege of Troy; and that Ulysses won the sevenfold shield at hazard. But be that as it may, the ruin of the corps of the myrmidons proceeded from a breach between Thersites and Pandarus. The first of these was leader of a squadron, wherein the latter was but a private man; but having all the good qualities necessary for a partisan, he was the favourite of his officer. But the whole history of the several changes in the order of sharpers, from those myrmidons to our modern men of address and plunder, will require that we consult some ancient manuscripts. As we make these inquiries, we shall diurnally communicate them to the public, that the knights of the industry may be better understood by the good people of England. These sort of men in some ages, were sycophants and flatterers only, and were endued with arts of life to capacitate them for the conversation of the rich and great; but now the bubble courts the impostor, and pretends at the utmost to be but his equal. To clear up the reasons and causes in such revolutions, and the alteration of conduct between fools and cheats, shall be one of our labours for the good of this kingdom. How therefore pimps, footmen, fiddlers, and lackeys, are elevated into companions in this present age, shall be accounted for from the influence of the planet Mercury[60] on this island; the ascendency of which sharper over Sol, who is a patron of the Muses, and all honest professions, has been noted by the learned Job Gadbury[61] to be the cause, that cunning and trick are more esteemed than art and science. It must be allowed also, to the memory of Mr. Partridge, late of Cecil Street in the Strand, that in his answer to an horary question, at what hour of the night to set a foxtrap in June 1705, he has largely discussed, under the character of Reynard, the manner of surprising all sharpers as well as him. But of these great points, after more mature deliberation.
St. James's Coffee-house, August 17.
"To Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.
"Sir,
"We have nothing at present new, but that we understand by some owlers,[62] old people die in France. Letters from Paris of the 10th instant, N.S., say, that Monsieur d'André Marquis d'Oraison died at 85; Monsieur Brumars, at 102 years, died for love of his wife, who was 92 at her death, after seventy years' cohabitation. Nicolas de Boutheiller, parish preacher of Sasseville, being a bachelor, held out till 116. Dame Claude de Massy, relict of Monsieur Peter de Monceaux, Grand Audiencer of France, died on the 7th instant, aged 107. Letters of the 17th say, Monsieur Chrestien de Lamoignon died on the 7th instant, a person of great piety and virtue; but having died young, his age is concealed for reasons of State. On the 15th his most Christian Majesty, attended by the Dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, the Duke and Duchess of Berry, assisted at the procession which he yearly performs, in memory of a vow made by Lewis XIII. 1638: for which act of piety, his Majesty received absolution of his confessor, for the breach of all inconvenient vows made by himself. I am,
"Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
Humphrey Kidney."[63]
From my own Apartment, August 17.
I am to acknowledge several letters which I have lately received; among others, one subscribed "Philanthropis," another "Emilia," both which shall be honoured. I have a third from an officer of the army, wherein he desires I would do justice to the many gallant actions which have been done by men of private characters, or officers of lower stations, during this long war; that their families may have the pleasure of seeing we lived in an age wherein men of all orders had their proper share in fame and glory. There is nothing I should undertake with greater pleasure than matter of this kind: if therefore they who are acquainted with such facts, would please to communicate them, by letter directed to me at Mr. Morphew's, no pains should be spared to put them in a proper and distinguishing light.
This is to admonish Stentor,[64] that it was not admiration of his voice, but my publication of it, which has lately increased the number of his hearers.
FOOTNOTES:
[58] "Rascal," in Greek letters.
[59] See No. 36.
[60] Mercury was the god of thieves.
[61] An astrologer and almanac maker, who died in 1715. John Gadbury, an older astrologer, was his master.
[62] Persons who carry contraband goods.
[63] A waiter; see No. 1.
[64] See No. 54.
[No. 57. [Steele.]
From Thursday, August 18, to Saturday, August 20, 1709.
Quicquid agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli.
Juv., Sat. I. 85, 86.
Will's Coffee-house, August 19.
I was this evening representing a complaint sent me out of the country from Emilia. She says, her neighbours there have so little sense of what a refined lady of the town is, that she, who was a celebrated wit in London, is in that dull part of the world in so little esteem, that they call her in their base style a tongue-pad. Old Truepenny bid me advise her to keep her wit till she comes to town again, and admonish her, that both wit and breeding are local; for a fine Court lady is as awkward among country housewives, as one of them would appear in a drawing-room. It is therefore the most useful knowledge one can attain at, to understand among what sort of men we make the best figure; for if there be a place where the beauteous and accomplished Emilia is unacceptable, it is certainly a vain endeavour to attempt pleasing in all conversations. Here is Will. Ubi, who is so thirsty after the reputation of a companion, that his company is for anybody that will accept of it; and for want of knowing whom to choose for himself, is never chosen by others. There is a certain chastity of behaviour which makes a man desirable, and which, if he transgresses, his wit will have the same fate with Delia's beauty, which no one regards, because all know it is within their power. The best course Emilia can take, is, to have less humility; for if she could have as good an opinion of herself for having every quality, as some of her neighbours have of themselves with one, she would inspire even them with a sense of her merit, and make that carriage (which is now the subject of their derision) the sole object of their imitation. Till she has arrived at this value of herself, she must be contented with the fate of that uncommon creature, a woman too humble.
White's Chocolate-house, August 19.
Since my last, I have received a letter from Tom Trump, to desire that I would do the fraternity of gamesters the justice to own, that there are notorious sharpers who are not of their class. Among others, he presented me with the picture of Harry Coppersmith in little, who (he says) is at this day worth half a plum,[65] by means much more indirect than by false dice. I must confess, there appeared some reason in what he asserted; and he met me since, and accosted me in the following manner: "It is wonderful to me, Mr. Bickerstaff, that you can pretend to be a man of penetration, and fall upon us knights of the industry as the wickedest of mortals, when there are so many who live in the constant practice of baser methods unobserved. You cannot (though you know the story of myself and the North Briton) but allow I am an honester man than Will. Coppersmith, for all his great credit among the Lombards. I get my money by men's follies, and he gets his by their distresses. The declining merchant communicates his griefs to him, and he augments them by extortion. If therefore regard is to be had to the merit of the persons we injure, who is the more blamable, he that oppresses an unhappy man, or he that cheats a foolish one? All mankind are indifferently liable to adverse strokes of fortune; and he who adds to them, when he might relieve them, is certainly a worse subject, than he who unburdens a man whose prosperity is unwieldy to him. Besides all which, he that borrows of Coppersmith, does it out of necessity; he that plays with me, does it out of choice." I allowed Trump there are men as bad as himself, which is the height of his pretensions; and must confess, that Coppersmith is the most wicked and impudent of all sharpers: a creature that cheats with credit, and is a robber in the habit of a friend. The contemplation of this worthy person made me reflect on the wonderful successes I have observed men of the meanest capacities meet with in the world, and recollected an observation I once heard a sage man make, which was, that he had observed, that in some professions, the lower the understanding, the greater the capacity. I remember, he instanced that of a banker, and said, "That the fewer appetites, passions, and ideas a man had, he was the better for his business." There is little Sir Tristram,[66] without connection in his speech, or so much as common sense, has arrived by his own natural parts at one of the greatest estates amongst us. But honest Sir Tristram knows himself to be but a repository for cash: he is just such a utensil as his iron chest, and may rather be said to hold money, than possess it. There is nothing so pleasant as to be in the conversation of these wealthy proficients. I had lately the honour to drink half a pint with Sir Tristram, Harry Coppersmith, and Giles Twoshoes. These wags give one another credit in discourse according to their purses; they jest by the pound, and make answers as they honour bills. Without vanity, I thought myself the prettiest fellow of the company; but I had no manner of power over one muscle in their faces, though they sneered at every word spoken by each other. Sir Tristram called for a pipe of tobacco; and telling us tobacco was a pot-herb, bid the drawer bring in the other half-pint. Twoshoes laughed at the knight's wit without moderation. I took the liberty to say, it was but a pun. "A pun!" says Coppersmith: "you would be a better man by £10,000 if you could pun like Sir Tristram." With that, they all burst out together. The queer curs maintained this style of dialogue till we had drunk our quarts apiece by half-pints. All I could bring away with me, is, that Twoshoes is not worth £20,000; for his mirth, though he was as insipid as either of the others, had no more effect upon the company, than if he had been a bankrupt.
From my own Apartment, August 19.
I have heard, it has been advised by a Diocesan to his inferior clergy, that instead of broaching opinions of their own, and uttering doctrines which may lead themselves and hearers into errors, they would read some of the most celebrated sermons printed by others for the instruction of their congregations. In imitation of such preachers at second-hand, I shall transcribe from Bruyère one of the most elegant pieces of raillery and satire which I have ever read. He describes the French, as if speaking of a people not yet discovered, in the air and style of a traveller.
"I have heard talk of a country where the old men are gallant, polite and civil: the young men, on the contrary, stubborn, wild, without either manners or civility. They are free from passion for women, at the age when in other countries they begin to feel it; and prefer beasts, victuals, and ridiculous amours, before them. Amongst these people, he is sober who is never drunk with anything but wine; the too frequent use of it has rendered it flat and insipid to them: they endeavour by brandy, and other strong liquors, to quicken their taste, already extinguished, and want nothing to complete their debauches, but to drink aqua fortis. The women of that country hasten the decay of their beauty, by their artifices to preserve it: they paint their cheeks, eyebrows, and shoulders, which they lay open, together with their breasts, arms and ears, as if they were afraid to hide those places which they think will please, and never think they show enough of them. The physiognomies of the people of that country are not at all neat, but confused and embarrassed with a bundle of strange hair, which they prefer before their natural: with this they weave something to cover their heads, which descends half-way down their bodies, hides their features, and hinders you from knowing men by their faces. This nation has besides this, their God and their king. The grandees go every day at a certain hour to a temple they call a church: at the upper end of that temple there stands an altar consecrated to their God, where the priest celebrates some mysteries which they call holy, sacred and tremendous. The great men make a vast circle at the foot of the altar, standing with their backs to the priest and the holy mysteries, and their faces erected towards their king, who is seen on his knees upon a throne, and to whom they seem to direct the desires of their hearts, and all their devotion. However, in this custom there is to be remarked a sort of subordination; for the people appear adoring their prince and their prince adoring God. The inhabitants of this region call it——It is from forty-eight degrees of latitude, and more than eleven hundred leagues by sea, from the Iroquois and Hurons."
Letters from Hampstead[67] say, there is a coxcomb arrived there, of a kind which is utterly new. The fellow has courage, which he takes himself to be obliged to give proofs of every hour he lives. He is ever fighting with the men, and contradicting the women. A lady who sent him to me, superscribed him with this description out of Suckling:
"I am a man of war and might,
And know thus much, that I can fight,
Whether I am in the wrong or right,
Devoutly.
"No woman under heaven I fear,
New oaths I can exactly swear;
And forty healths my brains will bear,
Most stoutly."
FOOTNOTES:
[65] A plum is £100,000.
[66] Sir Francis Child, according to the annotator mentioned in a note to No. 4. Sir Francis Child, the founder of the banking-house, was elected Lord Mayor in 1698, and was afterwards M.P. for the City and for Devizes. He died in 1713.
[67] Hampstead was quite a health resort, with chalybeate springs. The following advertisement appeared in No. 201: "A consort of music will be performed in the Great Room at Hampstead, this present Saturday, the 22nd inst., at the desire of the gentlemen and ladies living in and near Hampstead, by the best masters. Several of the opera songs, by a girl of nine years, a scholar of Mr. Tenoe's, who never performed in public, but once at York Buildings, with very good success. To begin exactly at five, for the conveniency of gentlemen's returning. Tickets to be had only at the Wells, at 2s. 6d. each. For the benefit of Mr. Tenoe."
[No. 58. [Steele.]
From Saturday, August 20, to Tuesday, August 23, 1709.
White's Chocolate-house, August 22.
Poor Cynthio[68] (who does me the honour to talk to me now and then very freely of his most secret thoughts, and tells me his most private frailties) owned to me, that though he is in his very prime of life, love had killed all his desires, and he was now as much to be trusted with a fine lady, as if he were eighty. "That one passion for Clarissa has taken up," said he, "my whole soul, and all my idle flames are extinguished, as you may observe, ordinary fires are often put out by the sunshine." This was a declaration not to be made, but upon the highest opinion of a man's sincerity; yet as much a subject of raillery as such a speech would be, it is certain, that chastity is a nobler quality, and as much to be valued in men as in women. The mighty Scipio, who (as Bluffe[69] says in the comedy) was a pretty fellow in his time, was of this mind, and is celebrated for it by an author of good sense. When he lived, wit, and humour, and raillery, and public success, were at as high a pitch in Rome, as at present in England; yet I believe, there was no man in those days thought that general at all ridiculous in his behaviour in the following account of him: Scipio, at four and twenty years of age,[70] had obtained a great victory, and a multitude of prisoners of each sex, and all conditions, fell into his possession: among others, an agreeable virgin in her early bloom and beauty. He had too sensible a spirit to see the most lovely of all objects without being moved with passion: besides which, there was no obligation of honour or virtue to restrain his desires towards one who was his by the fortune of war. But a noble indignation, and a sudden sorrow, which appeared in her countenance, when a conqueror cast his eyes upon her, raised his curiosity to know her story. He was informed, that she was a lady of the highest condition in that country, and contracted to Indibilis, a man of merit and quality. The generous Roman soon placed himself in the condition of that unhappy man, who was to lose so charming a bride; and though a youth, a bachelor, a lover, and a conqueror, immediately resolved to resign all the invitations of his passion, and the rights of his power, to restore her to her destined husband. With this purpose he commanded her parents and relations, as well as her husband, to attend him at an appointed time. When they met, and were waiting for the general, my author frames to himself the different concern of an unhappy father, a despairing lover, and a tender mother, in the several persons who were so related to the captive. But for fear of injuring the delicate circumstances with an old translation, I shall proceed to tell you, that Scipio appears to them, and leads in his prisoner into their presence. The Romans (as noble as they were) seemed to allow themselves a little too much triumph over the conquered; therefore, as Scipio approached, they all threw themselves on their knees, except the lover of the lady: but Scipio observing in him a manly sullenness, was the more inclined to favour him, and spoke to him in these words: "It is not the manner of the Romans to use all the power they justly may: we fight not to ravage countries, or break through the ties of humanity; I am acquainted with your worth, and your interest in this lady: fortune has made me your master; but I desire to be your friend. This is your wife; take her, and may the gods bless you with her. But far be it from Scipio to purchase a loose and momentary pleasure at the rate of making an honest man unhappy." Indibilis' heart was too full to make him any answer, but he threw himself at the feet of the general and wept aloud. The captive lady fell into the same posture, and they both remained so till the father burst into the following words: "O divine Scipio! The gods have given you more than human virtue. O glorious leader! O wondrous youth! Does not that obliged virgin give you, while she prays to the gods for your prosperity, and thinks you sent down from them, raptures, above all the transports which you could have reaped from the possession of her injured person?" The temperate Scipio answered him without much emotion, and, saying, "Father, be a friend to Rome," retired. An immense sum was offered as her ransom; but he sent it to her husband, and smiling, said, "This is a trifle after what I have given him already; but let Indibilis know, that chastity at my age is a much more difficult virtue to practise than generosity." I observed, Cynthio was very much taken with my narrative; but told me, this was a virtue that would bear but a very inconsiderable figure in our days. However I took the liberty to say, that we ought not to lose our ideas of things, though we had debauched our true relish in our practice. For after we have done laughing, solid virtue will keep its place in men's opinions: and though custom made it not so scandalous as it ought to be, to ensnare innocent women, and triumph in the falsehood; such actions as we have here related, must be accounted true gallantry, and rise the higher in our esteem, the farther they are removed from our imitation.
Will's Coffee-house, August 22.
A man would be apt to think in this laughing town, that it were impossible a thing so exploded as speaking hard words should be practised by any one that had ever seen good company; but as if there were a standard in our minds as well as bodies, you see very many just where they were twenty years ago, and more they cannot, will not arrive at. Were it not thus, the noble Martius would not be the only man in England whom nobody can understand, though he talks more than any man else, Will. Dactyle the epigrammatist, Jack Comma the grammarian, Nick Cross-grain who writes anagrams, and myself, made a pretty company at a corner of this room, and entered very peaceably upon a subject fit enough for us; which was, the examination of the force of the particle "for," when Martius joined us. He being well known to us all, asked what we were upon? For he had a mind to consummate the happiness of the day, which had been spent among the stars of the first magnitude, among the men of letters; and therefore, to put a period to it, as he had commenced it, he should be glad to be allowed to participate of the pleasure of our society. I told him the subject. "Faith, gentlemen," said Martius, "your subject is humble; and if you would give me leave to elevate the conversation, I should humbly offer, that you would enlarge your inquiries to the word 'forasmuch': for though I take it," said he, "to be but one word; yet, the particle 'much' implying quantity, the particle 'as' similitude, it will be greater, and more like ourselves, to treat of 'forasmuch.'" Jack Comma is always serious, and answered, "Martius, I must take the liberty to say, that you have fallen into all this error and profuse manner of speech by a certain hurry in your imagination, for want of being more exact in the knowledge of the parts of speech; and it is so with all men who have not well studied the particle 'for.' You have spoken 'for' without making any inference, which is the great use of that particle. There is no manner of force in your observation of quantity and similitude in the syllables 'as' and 'much.' But it is ever the fault of men of great wit to be incorrect; which evil they run into by an indiscreet use of the word 'for.' Consider all the books of controversy which have been written, and I'll engage you will observe, that all the debate lies in this point, whether they brought in 'for' in a just manner, or forced it in for their own use, rather than as understanding the use of the word itself? There is nothing like familiar instances: you have heard the story of the Irishman, who reading, 'Money for Live Hair,' took a lodging and expected to be paid for living at that house. If this man had known 'for' was in that place, of a quite different signification from the particle 'to,' he could not have fallen into the mistake of taking 'live' for what the Latins call vivere, or rather habitare" Martius seemed at a loss; and admiring his profound learning, wished he had been bred a scholar, for he did not take the scope of his discourse. This wise debate, of which we had much more, made me reflect upon the difference of their capacities, and wonder that there could be as it were a diversity in men's genius for nonsense; that one should bluster, while another crept in absurdities. Martius moves like a blind man, lifting his legs higher than the ordinary way of stepping; and Comma, like one who is only short-sighted, picking his way when he should be marching on. Want of learning makes Martius a brisk entertaining fool, and gives himself a full scope; but that which Comma has, and calls learning, makes him diffident, and curb his natural misunderstanding, to the great loss of the men of raillery. This conversation confirmed me in the opinion, that learning usually does but improve in us what nature endowed us with. He that wants good sense, is unhappy in having it, for he has thereby only more ways of exposing himself; and he that has sense, knows that learning is not knowledge, but rather the art of using it.
St. James's Coffee-house, August 22.
We[71] have undoubted intelligence of the defeat of the King of Sweden; and that prince (who for some years had hovered like an approaching tempest, and was looked up at by all the nations of Europe, which seemed to expect their fate according to the course he should take), is now, in all probability, an unhappy exile, without the common necessaries of life. His Czarish Majesty treats his prisoners with great gallantry and distinction. Count Rheinsfeldt has had particular marks of his Majesty's esteem, for his merit and services to his master; but Count Piper, whom his Majesty believes author of the most violent councils into which his prince entered, is disarmed and entertained accordingly. That decisive battle was ended at nine in the morning, and all the Swedish generals dined with the Czar that very day, and received assurances that they should find Muscovy was not unacquainted with the laws of honour and humanity.
FOOTNOTES:
[68] Lord Hinchinbroke; see Nos. 5, 22, 35.
[69] Captain Bluffe, in Congreve's "Old Bachelor," act ii. sc. 2: "Faith, Hannibal was a very pretty fellow; but, Sir Joseph, comparisons are odious; Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days, it must be granted; but, alas, sir, were he alive now, he would be nothing, nothing in the earth."
[70] He was really 27 at this time. Steele seems to have based this article on a translation of Valerius Maximus. Florus says that Scipio declined to see the lady; Livy's account is in his twenty-sixth book, chap. 50.
[71] "Though we have men of intelligence that have spoken of the proposals of peace and conferences which have been held at Tournay, there are no certain advices of any such treaty. We" (folio).
[No. 59. [Steele.]
From Tuesday, August 23, to Thursday, August 25, 1709.
White's Chocolate-house, August 24.
Æsop has gained to himself an immortal renown for figuring the manners, desires, passions, and interests of men, by fables of beasts and birds: I shall in my future accounts of our modern heroes and wits, vulgarly called "sharpers," imitate the method of that delightful moralist; and think, I cannot represent those worthies more naturally than under the shadow of a pack of dogs; for this set of men are like them, made up of finders, lurchers, and setters. Some search for the prey, others pursue others take it; and if it be worth it, they all come in at the death, and worry the carcass. It would require a most exact knowledge of the field, and the harbours where the deer lie, to recount all the revolutions in the chase: but I am diverted from the train of my discourse of the fraternity about this town by letters from Hampstead, which give me an account, there is a late institution there, under the name of a raffling-shop, which is, it seems, secretly supported by a person who is a deep practitioner in the law, and, out of tenderness of conscience, has, under the name of his maid Sisly, set up this easier way of conveyancing and alienating estates from one family to another. He is so far from having an intelligence with the rest of the fraternity, that all the humbler cheats who appear there, are faced by the partners in the bank, and driven off by the reflection of superior brass. This notice is given to all the silly faces that pass that way, that they may not be decoyed in by the soft allurement of a fine lady, who is the sign to the pageantry. And at the same time Signior Hawksly, who is the patron of the household, is desired to leave off this interloping trade, or admit, as he ought to do, the knights of the industry to their share in the spoil. But this little matter is only by way of digression. Therefore to return to our worthies: the present race of terriers and hounds would starve, were it not for the enchanted Actæon, who has kept the whole pack for many successions of hunting seasons. Actæon has long tracts of rich soil; but had the misfortune in his youth to fall under the power of sorcery, and has been ever since, some parts of the year, a deer, and in some parts a man. While he is a man (such is the force of magic), he no sooner grows to such a bulk and fatness, but he is again turned into a deer, and hunted till he is lean; upon which he returns to his human shape. Many arts have been tried, and many resolutions taken by Actæon himself, to follow such methods as would break the enchantment; but all have hitherto proved ineffectual. I have therefore, by midnight watchings and much care, found out, that there is no way to save him from the jaws of his hounds, but to destroy the pack, which, by astrological prescience, I find I am destined to perform. For which end I have sent out my familiar, to bring me a list of all the places where they are harboured, that I may know where to sound my horn, and bring them together, and take an account of their haunts and their marks, against another opportunity.
Will's Coffee-house, August 24.
The author of the ensuing letter, by his name, and the quotations he makes from the ancients, seems a sort of spy from the old world, whom we moderns ought to be careful of offending; therefore I must be free, and own it a fair hit where he takes me, rather than disoblige him.[72]
"Sir,
"Having a peculiar humour of desiring to be somewhat the better or wiser for what I read, I am always uneasy when, in any profound writer (for I read no others), I happen to meet with what I cannot understand. When this falls out, it is a great grievance to me that I am not able to consult the author himself about his meaning; for commentators are a sect that has little share in my esteem. Your elaborate writings have, among many others, this advantage, that their author is still alive, and ready (as his extensive charity makes us expect) to explain whatever may be found in them too sublime for vulgar understandings. This, sir, makes me presume to ask you, how the Hampstead hero's[73] character could be perfectly new when the last letters came away, and yet Sir John Suckling so well acquainted with it sixty years ago? I hope, sir, you will not take this amiss: I can assure you, I have a profound respect for you; which makes me write this, with the same disposition with which Longinus bids us read Homer and Plato. 'When in reading,' says he, 'any of those celebrated authors, we meet with a passage to which we cannot well reconcile our reasons, we ought firmly to believe, that were those great wits present to answer for themselves, we should to our wonder be convinced, that we only are guilty of the mistakes we before attributed to them.' If you think fit to remove the scruple that now torments me, it will be an encouragement to me to settle a frequent correspondence with you, several things falling in my way which would not, perhaps, be altogether foreign to your purpose, and whereon your thoughts would be very acceptable to
"Your most humble Servant,
Obadiah Greenhat."
I own this is clean, and Mr. Greenhat has convinced me that I have writ nonsense; yet am I not at all offended at him.
Scimus, et hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim.[74]
This is the true art of raillery, when a man turns another into ridicule, and shows at the same time he is in good humour, and not urged by malice against the person he rallies. Obadiah Greenhat has hit this very well: for to make an apology to Isaac Bickerstaff, an unknown student and horary historian, as well as astrologer, and with a grave face to say, he speaks of him by the same rules with which he would treat Homer or Plato, is to place him in company where he cannot expect to make a figure; and makes him flatter himself, that it is only being named with them which renders him most ridiculous. I have not known, and I am now past my grand climacteric, being sixty-four years of age, according to my way of life, or rather (if you will allow punning in an old gentleman) according to my way of pastime; I say, old as I am, I have not been acquainted with many of the Greenhats. There is indeed one Zedekiah Greenhat, who is lucky also in his way. He has a very agreeable manner; for when he has a mind thoroughly to correct a man, he never takes from him anything, but he allows him something for it; or else, he blames him for things wherein he is not defective, as well as for matters wherein he is. This makes a weak man believe he is in jest in the whole. The other day he told Beau Prim, who is thought impotent, that his mistress had declared she would not have him, because he was a sloven, and had committed a rape. The beau bit at the banter, and said very gravely, he thought to be clean was as much as was necessary; and that as to the rape, he wondered by what witchcraft that should come to her ears; but it had indeed cost him a hundred pounds to hush the affair. The Greenhats are a family with small voices and short arms, therefore they have power with none but their friends: they never call after those who run away from them, or pretend to take hold of you if you resist. But it has been remarkable, that all who have shunned their company, or not listened to them, have fallen into the hands of such as have knocked out their own brains, or broken their bones. I have looked over our pedigree upon the receipt of this epistle, and find the Greenhats are akin to the Staffs. They descend from Maudlin, the left-handed wife of Nehemiah Bickerstaff, in the reign of Harry II. And it is remarkable, that they are all left-handed, and have always been very expert at single rapier. A man must be very much used to their play to know how to defend himself; for their posture is so different from that of the right-handed, that you run upon their swords if you push forward; and they are in with you, if you offer to fall back without keeping your guard. There have been other letters lately sent to me which relate to other people: among others, some whom I have heretofore declared to be so, are deceased. I must not therefore break through rules so far, as to speak ill of the dead. This maxim extends to all but the late Partridge, who still denies his death. I am informed indeed by several, that he walks; but I shall with all convenient speed lay him.
St. James's Coffee-house, August 24.
We hear from Tournay, that on the night between the 22nd and 23rd, they went on with their works in the enemy's mines, and levelled the earth which was taken out of them. The next day, at eight in the morning, when the French observed we were relieving our trenches, they sprung a larger mine than any they had fired during this siege, which killed only four private sentinels. The ensuing night, we had three men and two officers killed, as also seven men wounded. Between the 24th and 25th, we repaired some works, which the enemy had ruined. On the next day, some of the enemy's magazines blew up; and it is thought they were destroyed on purpose by some of their men, who are impatient of the hardships of the present service. There happened nothing remarkable for two or three days following. A deserter, who came out of the citadel on the 27th, says, the garrison is brought to the utmost necessity; that their bread and water are both very bad; and that they were reduced to eat horse-flesh. The manner of fighting in this siege has discovered a gallantry in our men unknown to former ages; their meeting with adverse parties underground, where every step is taken with apprehensions of being blown up with mines below them, or crushed by the fall of the earth above them, and all this acted in darkness, has something in it more terrible than ever is met with in any other part of a soldier's duty. However, this is performed with great cheerfulness. In other parts of the war we have also good prospects: Count Thaun has taken Annecy, and the Count de Merci marched into Franche Comté, while his Electoral Highness is much superior in number to Monsieur d'Harcourt; so that both on the side of Savoy and Germany, we have reason to expect very suddenly some great event.