THE LUCUBRATIONS OF
Isaac Bickerstaff
Esq
Revised and Corrected by the Author.
VOL. II.
Homer.
LONDON,
Printed by
John Nutt,
and sold by
John Morphew,
near
Stationers-Hall.
MDCCXII.
TO
Edward Wortley Mountague
Esq
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 feint, 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 Excellencies, which I had not observed till you pointed them to me. I am very proud that there are some Things in these Papers which I know you pardon; and it is no small Pleasure to have ones Labours suffered by the Judgment of a Man who so well understands the true Charms of Eloquence and Poesie. 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 hath 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.
THE [No 51. TATLER:
BY Isaac Bickerstaff
Esq
VOL. II.
Quicquid agunt Homines nostri Farrago Libelli.
From
Thursday Aug.
4. to
Saturday Aug.
6. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
August 5.
The History of
Orlando
the Fair.
Chap. II.
FOrtune being now propitious to the gay
Orlando,
he dress'd, he spoke, he mov'd, as a Man might be suppos'd 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, contemn'd it, and appeared in it to tell 'em so. If therefore his exalted Mien met with an unwelcome Reception, he was sure always to double the Cause which gave the Distaff. You see our Beauties affect a Negligence in the Ornament of their Hair, and adjusting their Headdresses, 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 contemn'd. For this Reason, a noble Particularity appeared in all his Oeconomy, Furniture, and Equipage. And to convince the present little Race, how unequal all their Measures were to an
Antidiluvian,
as he called himself, in Respect of the Insects which now appear for Men, he sometimes rode in an open Tumbril, 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
of old, which showed it self in doing ordinary Things with an Air of Pomp and Grandeur.
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 Tranquility, till an unlucky Accident brought to his Remembrance, that one Evening he was married before he courted the Nuptials of
Villaria.
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, and calls to his Neighbour-Skies to pity his Dolors, and to find Redress for an unhappy Lover. All high Spirits, in any great Agitation of Mind, are inclined to relieve themselves by Poetry: The renown'd Porter of
Oliver
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 ally'd.
Will's Coffee-house,
August 5.
A good Company of us were this Day to see, or rather to hear, an artful Person 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. He immediately addressed himself to me, and told me, he was surprized to see a Virtuoso take Satisfaction in any Representations below that of humane Life; and asked me, Whether I thought this acting Bells and Dogs was to be considered under the Notion of Wit, Humour, or Satyr? 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 sate near us laughed; but I saw no Distortion in his Countenance, or any Thing 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 your self, and 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 your self 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 your self: He is the first Mimick that ever gave the Beauties, as well as the Deformities, of the Man he acted. What Mr.
Dryden
said of a very great Man, 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 Secret where he expects to meet him; for he that knows his every Step and Look is constrained and affected, must be afraid to be rival'd 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,
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 my self, 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 Sive 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 sufficient 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 swelling my Volumes: As, when a Woman is going to abuse her best Friend,
Pray
(said she)
have you heard what I said of Mrs. such a one? I am heartily sorry to hear any Thing 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
ings of it.
All such Flowers in Rhetorick, 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 Octavo's; 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
is arrived at
Lisbon.
When that Gentleman left
Barcelona,
his Catholick Majesty was making 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
acting in all Things with such Unanimity, that the Publick 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,
the said
Palatine
shall be settled in a Freehold of 40
s. per Annum
in the County of
Middlesex.
The TATLER. [No 52.
From
Saturday Aug.
6. to
Tuesd. Aug.
9. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
August 7.
Delamira
resigns her Fan.
LOng had the Crowd of the Gay and Young stood in Suspence 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
for her Companion for Life. Upon her making this known, the Expence of Sweet Powder and Jessamine are considerably abated; and the Mercers and Milleners complain of her Want of publick Spirit, in not concealing longer a Secret which was so much 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 entring the Matrimonial State, made her, some Nights before
Delamira
's Resolution was publish'd to the World, address her self 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 janty bearing of your Head over one Shoulder; and that inexpressible Beauty in your Manner of playing your Fan, must be lower'd into a more confin'd Behaviour; to show, That you would rather shun than receive Addresses for the future. Therefore, dear
Delamira,
give me those Excellencies you leave off, and acquaint me with your Manner of Charming: For I take the Liberty of your Friendship to say, That when I consider my own Stature, Motion, Complexion, Wit or Breeding, I cannot think my self 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 unask'd, 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 (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 render'd it of such general Force while she was Mistress of it.
Delamira
reply'd, You see, Madam,
Cupid
is the principal Figure painted on it; and the Skill in playing this Fan is, in your several Motions of it, to let him appear as little as possible; for honourable Lovers fly all Endeavours to ensnare 'em; 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 publick Assemblies, the Sexes seem to separate themselves, and draw up to attack each other with Eye-shot: 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, Miss
Gatty
flutters her Fan 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.
Cimon,
who is the dullest of Mortals, and tho' 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 a Lethargick by this my Wand, as
Cimon
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 Inchantress, with this remarkable Power, That it bestows a Husband in half a Year to her who does not over-look 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. Farewel. 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 nee 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 Regard to our different Ways of Life. The Woman's Province is to be careful in her Oeconomy, and chast 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
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 publick Actions.
Nestor
was in those Days a skilful Architect, and in a Manner the Inventor of the Use of Mechanick 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 Weight, 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: Yet
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 Instance 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 Reputations as Poverty; for as it was said, The poor Man saved the City, and the poor Man's Labour was forgot; so here we find, The modest Man built the City, and the modest Man's Skill was unknown.
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 any Thing, but those who behold him know he has forborn much more than he has performed or utter'd, 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 uaskill'd in it, Want of Success in our Actions is generally owing to Want of Judgment in what we ought to attempt, or a rustick 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 'em 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 any Thing he can get, so he is above nothing which is offered. He is like the young Batchelor 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 in 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.
The TATLER. [No 53.
From
Tuesd. Aug.
9. to
Thursday Aug.
11. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
August 10.
The Civil Husband.
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 'em after this Manner, is the Reason 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 banish'd and immur'd 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. 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 upon the fair Sex, who consider even Brides but as new Women, and consequently neglect 'em when they cease to be such. All the Merit of
Elmira
could not prevent her becoming a meer 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 betray'd 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
Centaure
's and play at
Ombre. 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 Genio's 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 tho' 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 for that Reason resolved to retire to one of his Estates in the Country, and pass away his Hours of Wedlock in the noble Diversions of the Field; and in the Fury of a disappointed Lover, made an Oath, to leave neither Stag, Fox, or 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 communicate frankly to her the Weakness of his Temper, to excuse the Indifference of his Behaviour. He disposed his Houshold 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 Discretien?
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 Goodwill 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 or 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 'em; 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 tortur'd 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
Osmrn
thought of an 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 Towns; 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 Dramatick 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 are 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.
Shakespear
is your Pattern. In the Tragedy of
Caesar,
he introduces his Hero in his Night-Gown. 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 Mechanick 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.
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 mutined 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 Governour 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.
The TATLER. [No 54.
From
Thursd. Aug.
11. to
Saturd. Aug.
13. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
August 12.
Of the Government of Affection.
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 Excrescencies of our Souls, like our Hair and Beards, look horrid or becoming, as we cut or let 'em grow. All this grave Preface is meant to assign a Reason in Nature for the unaccountable Behaviour of
Duumvir,
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
Phillis
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 Satisfactions: For pall'd Appetite is humorous, and must be gratified with Sauces rather than Food. For which End
Duumvir
is provided with an haughty, imperious, expensive, and fantastick Mistress, to whom he retires from the Conversation of an affable, humble, discrect, and affectionate Wife.
Laura
receives him after Absence with an easie and unaffected Complacency; but that he calls insipid:
Phillis
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;
Phillis
's Insolence, sprightly. Were you to see him at his own Home, and his Mistress's Lodgings, to
Phillis
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;
Phillis
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
Phillis,
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 cry'd, we must be past all these Gaieties.
Phillis
has a Note as rude and as loud as that of a Milk-Maid: 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
Phillis.
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 answer'd
Phillis
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, Hussey, that fair Wig cost Forty Guinea's? Oh
Laura!
Is it for this that the faithful
Chromius
sigh'd for you in vain? How is thy Condition alter'd, since Crowds of Youth hung on thy Eye, and watch'd 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, chastis'd, yet added to Diversions. At Publick Devotions, her winning Modesty, her resign'd 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 an Humility which heighten'd 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 Reflection on her Choice, and that deceitful Vanity (almost inseparable from the Sex)
f believing, she could reclaim one that had so
ften ensnared others; as it now is, it is not
ven in the Power of
Duumvir
himself to do her
ustice: For though Beauty and Merit are Things
eal, and independent on Taste and Opinion,
et 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
Phillis,
and Indifference for
Laura,
he has a Second Wife in View, who may avenge the Injuries done to her Predecessor.
Aglaura
is the destin'd Lady, who has liv'd 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 mean Time, 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 any Thing improper for such Occasions. Therefore the Offence mentioned in the following Epistles (tho' 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. My self, and a great many good People who frequent the Divine Service at St.
Paul
's, have been a long Time scandaliz'd by the imprudent Conduct of
Stentor
in that Cathedral. This Gentleman, you must know, is always very exact and zealous in his Devotion, which, I believe, no Body blames; but then he is accustom'd to roar and bellow so terribly loud in the
Responses,
that he frightens even us of the Congregation, who are daily us'd to him; and one of our Petty-Canons, a Punning
Cambridge
Scholar, calls his Way of Worship, a
Bull-Offering.
His harsh untunable Pipe is no more fit than a Raven's to join with the Musick of a Choir; yet no Body 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 Anthens, 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 redress'd; 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,
Aug. 11.
It is wonderful there should be such a general Lamentation, and the Grievance so frequent, and yet the Offender never know any Thing 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 exercis'd 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 Spight 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 pass'd that Way, Women pregnant frighten'd, and Heirs to Families lost; which are Publick Disasters, though arising from a good Intention: But it is hoped, after this Admonition, that
Stentor
will aviod an Act of so great Supercrogation, as singing without a Voice.
But I am diverted from prosecuting
Stentor
's Reformation, by an Account, That the Two faithful Lovers,
Lisander
and
Coriana,
are dead; for no longer ago than the first of the last Month they swore eternal Fidelity to each other, and to love till Death. Ever since that Time,
Lisander
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.
The TATLER. [No 55.
— Paulo Majora canamns.
From
Saturday Aug.
13. to
Tuesd. Aug.
16. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
August 15.
WHILE others are busied in Relations which concern the Interests of Princes, the Peace of Nations, and the Revolutions of Empire, I think (though these are very great 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 Publick. 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 prepar'd for in the following Manner.
The Operator, Mr.
Grant,
having observed the Eyes of his Patient, and convinced his Friends and Relations, among others the Reverend 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
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 any Thing 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 Extacy in his Action, that he seemed ready to sweon away in the Surprize 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 seem'd to compare him to himself; and observing both their Hands, seem'd 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 throng'd 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, shreik'd in the loudest Manner. That Voice seem'd to have a sudden Effect upon him as he recover'd, and he showed a double Curiosity in observing her as she spoke and call'd 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 any where without him. He offered to move, but seem'd afraid of every Thing 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 call'd for, and presented to him. Mr.
Caswell
ask'd him, What Sort of Thing he took
Tom.
to be before he had seen him. He answer'd, 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 bewail'd himself in the most distressed Manner, and accused all his Friends, complaining, that some Incantation had been wrought upon him, and some strange Magick 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, it 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 indear her self to him by such a Circumstance, as to moderate his Extasies by the Perswasion of a Voice, which had so much Power over him as hers: ever had. When this belov'd young Woman began to take off the Binding of his Eyes, she talk'd 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 P
sions of which you now are innocent, and take you from me for ever. But before I put my self 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 answer'd,
Dear
Lidis,
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 any Thing 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 my self. I wish'd for them but to see you; pull them out, if they are to make me forget you.
Lidia
was extremely satisfied with these Assurances; and pleased her self with playing with his Perplexities. In all his Talk to her, he showed but very feint Idea's of any Thing 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
Lidia.
St. James's Coffee-house,
August 15.
We have repeated Advices of the entire Defeat of the
Swedish
Army near
Pultowa
on the 27th of
June, O. S.
And Letters from
Berlin
give the following Account of the Remains of the
Swedish
Army since the Battle: Prince
Menzikoff
being order'd to pursue the Victory, came up with the
Swedish
Army (which was left to the Command of General
Lewenhaupt
) on the 3oth 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 dispatched Three General Officers to that Prince, to treat about a Capitulation; but the
Swedes,
though they consisted of 15000 Men, were in so great a Want of Provision and Ammunition, that they were obliged to surrender themselves at Discretion. His Czarish Majesty dispatched 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
Bern
of the 11th Instant say, That the General Diet of the
Helvetick
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 join'd 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
An
i.
General
Rhebinder
is encamp'd in the Valley of
Oulx
with 10000 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 Enterprize. That General's Head Quarters are at
Francin;
and he hath disposed his Army in several Parties, to preserve a Communication with the
Maurienne
and
Briancon.
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 suffer'd 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.
The TATLER. [No 56.
Quicquid agunt Homines nostri Farrago Libelli.
From
Tuesd. Aug.
16. to
Thursday Aug.
18. 1709.
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 Publick 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,
: 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 h m leave us with an Opinion, that our Nobility and Gentry kept Company with common Thiefs 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 as 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 Oeconomy 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 bewail'd: For the Acceptance of these Men being an Ill which hath crept into the Conversation-Part of our Lives, and not into our Constitution it self, 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 those who 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 Catholick 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
's 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 Ballance 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 Heroick 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 pedantick 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 tke 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 Partizan, 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 Enquiries, we shall diurnally communicate them to the Publick, 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 different Conduct between Fools and Cheats, shall be one of our Labours for the Good of this Kingdom. How therefore Pimps, Footmen, Fiddlers, and Lacqueys, are elevated into Companions in this present Age, shall be accounted for from the Influence of the Planet
Mercury
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
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 Fox-Trap in
June
1705? He has largely discuss'd, under the Character of
Reynard,
the Manner of surprizing 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, old People die in
France.
Letters from
Paris
of the 10th Instant,
N. S.
say, That Monsicur
d'Andre
Marquis
d'Oraison
dy'd at 85; Monsieur
Brumars,
at 102 Years, dy'd for Love of his Wife, who was 92 at her Death, after 70 Years Cohabitation.
Nicolas de Boutheiller,
Parish Preacher of
Sasseville,
being a Batchelor, held out till 116. Dame
Claude de Massy,
Relict of Monsieur
Peter de Monceaux,
Grand Audiencer of
France,
dy'd on the 7th Instant, aged 107. Letters of the 17th day, Monsieur
Chrestien de Lamoignon
dy'd on the 7th Instant, a Person of great Piety and Virtue; but having dy'd 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 Dutchess of
Berry,
assifted at the Procession which he Yearly performs in Memory of a Vow made by
Lewis
the XIIIth, 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.
From my own Apartment,
August 17.
I am to acknowledge several Letters which I have lately received; among others, one subscribed
Philanthropos,
another
Emilia,
both which shall be honour'd. 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 Matters-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,
That it was not Admiration of his Voice, but my Publication of it, which has lately increased the Number of his Hearers.
The TATLER. [No 57.
Quicquid agunt Homines nostri Farrago Libelli.
From
Thursd. Aug.
18. to
Saturd. Aug.
20. 1709.
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 aukward among Country Housewives, as one of them would appear in a Drawing-Room. 'Tis 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 accomplish'd
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 any Body that will accept of it; and for Want of knowing whom to chuse 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 her self 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 her self, 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 Plumb, 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 my self 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 blameable, 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 unweildy 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 Idea's a Man had, he was the better for his Business.
There is little Sir
Tristram,
without Connexion 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 an 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 my self the Prettiest Fellow of the Company; but I had no Manner of Power over one Muscle in their Faces, though they sneer'd 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 t'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 10000
l.
if you could pun like Sir
Tristram.
With that, they all burst out together. The Queer Curs maintain'd this Style of Dialogue till we had drank our Quarts a-piece by Half-Pints. All I could bring away with me, is, That
Twoshoes
is not worth Twenty Thousand Pounds; 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
Bruyere
one of the most elegant Pieces of Raillery and Satyr which I have ever read. He describes the
French,
as if speaking of a People not yet discover'd, 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 any Thing 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 extinguish'd, and want nothing to compleat their Debauchees, 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 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 down half Way 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—'Tis from Forty eight Degrees of Latitude, and more than Eleven hundred Leagues by Sea, from the
Iroquois
and
Hurons.
Letters from
Hampstead
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, superscrib'd 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 i'th' 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.
The TATLER. [No 58.
From
Saturd. Aug.
20. to
Tuesday Aug.
23. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
August 22.
POor
Cynthio
(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) own'd to me, that tho' 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 extinguish'd, 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
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 Publick Success, were at as high a Pitch at
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, had obtained a great Victory, and a Multitude of Prisoners of each Sex, and all Conditions, fell nto 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 Batchelor, 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 Conquer'd; 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
's 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?
Oh Divine
Scipio!
The Gods have given you more than humane Virtue. Oh Glorious Leader! Oh 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 injur'd Person?
The temperate
Scipio
answered him without much Emotion, and, saying,
Father, be a Friend to
Rome, retired. An immense Sum was offer'd 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 Vi tue 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 Idea's 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 tho' Custom made it not so scandalous as it ought to be, to ensnare innocent Women, and triumph in the Falshood; 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 no Body can understand, though he talks more than any Man else.
Will. Dactyle
the Epigrammatist,
Jack Comma
the Grammarian,
Nick Crosse-grain
who writes Anagrams, and my self, made a pretty Company at a Corner of this Room, and enter'd very peaceably upon a Subject fit enough for us; which was, the Examination of the Force of the Particle
For,
when
Martius
join'd 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 Enquiries to the Word
For as-much:
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 our selves, to treat of
For-as-much: Jack Comma
is always serious, and answer'd;
'
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 ingage 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 it self? 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
seem'd 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 Nonsence; 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 shortsighted, 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 confirm'd 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 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
Rhensfeildt
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.
The TATLER. [No 59.
From
Tuesd. Aug.
23. to
Thursd. Aug.
25. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
August 24.
AESOP
has gain'd 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 Houshold, 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
Actaeon,
who has kept the whole Pack for many Successions of Hunting Seasons.
Actaeon
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 Magick) 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 humane Shape. Many Arts have been tried, and many Resolutions taken by
Actaeon
himself, to follow such Methods as would break the Inchantment; 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 Praescience, I find I am destin'd 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.
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, 'tis 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 in them too sublime for vulgar Understandings. This, Sir, makes me presume to ask you, How the
Hampstead
Hero's 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 Resp ct 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, 'twill 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 Nonsence; yet am I not at all offended at him,
Scimus, & hanc Veniam petimus
que
damus
que
vicissim.
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 urg'd on 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 Climacterick, being 64 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, as 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 throughly to correct a Man, he never takes from him any Thing, 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. T'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 an 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 knock'd 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 a-kin 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 also Letters lately sent to me which relate to other People: Among the rest, some whom I have heretofore declared to be so, are deceased. I must not therefore break thro' 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 22d and 23d, 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 8 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 Centinels. The ensuing Night, we had three Men and two Officers killed, as also seven Men wounded. Between the 24th and 25th, we repair'd some Works which the Enemy had ruin'd. On the next Day, some of the Enemy's Magazines blew up; and it is thought they were destroy'd 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 under Ground, 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 Chearfulness. In other Parts of the War we have also good Prospects: Count
Thaun
has taken
Annecy,
and the Count
de Merci
march'd into
Franche Compte,
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.
The TATLER. [No 60.
From
Thursd. Aug.
25. to
Saturd. Aug.
27. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
August 26.
TO proceed regularly in the History of my Worthies, I ought to give you an Account of what has passed from Day to Day in this Place; but a young Fellow of my Acquaintance has so lately been rescued out of the Hands of the Knights of the Industry, that I rather chuse to relate the Manner of his Escape from 'em, and the uncommon Way which was used to reclaim him, than to go on in my intended Diary.
You are to know then, that
Tom Wildair
is a Student of the
Inner Temple,
and has spent his Time, since he left the University for that Place, in the common Diversions of Men of Fashion; that is to say, in Whoring, Drinking, and Gaming. The Two former Vices he had from his Father; but was led into the last by the Conversation of a Partizan of the
Mirmidons,
who had Chambers near him. His Allowance from his Father was a very plentiful one for a Man of Sense, but as scanty for a modern Fine Gentleman. His frequent Losses had reduced him to so necessitous a Condition, that his Lodgings were always haunted by impatient Creditors, and all his Thoughts employed in contriving low Methods to support himself, in a Way of Life from which he knew not how to retreat, and in which he wanted Means to proceed. There is never wanting some good-natured Person to send a Man an Account of what he has no Mind to hear; therefore many Epistles were conveyed to the Father of this Extravagant, to inform him of the Company, the Pleasures, the Distresses, and Entertainments, in which his Son passed his Time. The old Fellow received these Advices with all the Pain of a Parent, but frequently consulted his Pillow to know how to behave himself on such important Occasions, as the Welfare of his Son, and the Safety of his Fortune. After many Agitations of Mind, he reflected, That Necessity was the usual Snare which made Men fall into Meanness, and that a liberal Fortune generally made a liberal and honest Mind; he resolved therefore to save him from his Ruin, by giving him Opportunities of tasting what it is to be at Ease, and enclosed to him the following Order upon Sir
Tristram Cash:
SIR,
Pray pay to Mr.
Tho. Wildair,
or Order, the Sum of one Thousand Pounds, and place it to the Account of
Yours,
Humphrey Wildair.
T
.
was so astonished at the Receipt of this Order, that though he knew it to be his Father's Hand, and that he had always large Sums at Sir
Tristram
's; yet a Thousand Pounds was a Trust of which his Conduct had always made him appear so little capable, that he kept his Note by him, till he writ to his Father the following Letter:
Honoured Father,
I Have received an Order under your Hand for a Thousand Pounds, in Words at Length, and I think I could swear it is your Hand. I have looked it over and over Twenty Thousand Times. There it in plain Letters, T, H, O, U, S, A, N, D; and after it, the Letters, P, O, U, N, D, S. I have it still by me, and shall, I believe, continue reading it till I hear from you.
The old Gentleman took no Manner of Notice of the Receipt of his Letter; but sent him another Order for Three Thousand Pounds more. His Amazement on this second Letter was unspeakable. He immediately double-lock'd his Door, and sate down carefully to reading and comparing both his Orders. After he had read 'em till he was half mad, he walked Six or Seven Turns in his Chamber, then opens his Door, then locks it again; and to examine throughly this Matter, he locks his Door again, puts his Table and Chairs against it; then goes into his Closet, and locking himself in, read his Notes over again about Nineteen Times, which did but increase his Astonishment. Soon after, he began to recollect many Stories he had formerly heard of Persons who had been possessed with Imaginations and Appearances which had no Foundation in Nature, but had been taken with sudden Madness in the Midst of a seeming clear and untainted Reason. This made him very gravely conclude he was out of his Wits; and with a Design to compose himself, he immediately betakes him to his Night-cap, with a Resolution to sleep himself into his former Poverty and Senses. To Bed therefore he goes at Noon-Day, but soon rose again, and resolved to visit Sir
Tristam
upon this Occasion. He did so, and dined with the Knight, expecting he would mention some Advice from his Father about paying him Money; but no such Thing being said, Look you, Sir
Tristram,
(said he) you are to know, that an Affair has happened, which—Look you, (says
Tristram
) I know Mr.
Wildair,
you are going to desire me to advance; but the late Call of the Bank, where I have not yet made my last Payment, has obliged me—
Tom
interrupted him, by showing him the Bill of a Thousand Pounds. When he had looked at it for a convenient Time, and as often surveyed
Tom
's Looks and Countenance; Look you, Mr.
Wildair,
a Thousand Pounds—Before he could proceed, he shows him the Order for Three Thousand more—Sir
Tristram
examined the Orders at the Light, and finding at the writing the Name, there was a certain Stroke in one Letter, which the Father and he had agreed should be to such Directions as he desired might be more immediately honoured, he forthwith pays the Money. The Possession of Four Thousand Pounds gave my young Gentleman a new Train of Thoughts: He began to reflect upon his Birth, the great Expectations he was born to, and the unsuitable Ways he had long pursued. Instead of that unthinking Creature he was before, he is now provident, generous, and discreet. The Father and Son have an exact and regular Correspondence, with mutual and unreserved Confidence in each other. The Son looks upon his Father as the best Tenant he could have in the Country, and the Father finds the Son the most safe Banker he could have in the City.
Will's Coffee-house,
August 26.
There is not any Thing in Nature so extravagant, but that you will find one Man or other that shall practise or maintain it; otherwise,
Harry Spondee
could not have made so long an Harangue as he did here this Evening, concerning the Force and Efficacy of well-applied Nonsence. Among Ladies, he positively averr'd, it was the most prevailing Part of Eloquence; and had so little Complaisance as to say, a Woman is never taken by her Reason, but always by her Passion. He proceeded to assert, the Way to move that, was only to astonish her. I know (continued he) a very late Instance of this; for being by Accident in the next Room to
Strephon,
I could not help over-hearing him as he made Love to a certain great Lady's Woman. The true Method in your Application to one of this second Rank of Understanding, is not to elevate and surprize, but rather to elevate and amaze.
Strephon
is a perfect Master in this Kind of Perswasion: His Way is, to run over with a soft Air a Multitude of Words, without Meaning or Connexion, but such as do each of 'em apart give a pleasing Idea, though they have nothing to do with each other as he assembles 'em. After the common Phrases of Salutation, and making his Entry into the Room, I perceived he had taken the fair Nymph's Hand, and kissing it, said, Witness to my Happiness ye Groves! Be still ye Rivulets! Oh! Woods, Caves, Fountains, Trees, Dales, Mountains, Hills, and Streams! Oh! Fairest, Could you love me? To which I over-heard her answer, with a very pretty Lisp, Oh!
Strephon,
You are a dangerous Creature: Why do you talk these tender Things to me? But you Men of Wit—Is it then possible, said the enamour'd
Strephon,
that she regards my Sorrows? Oh! Pity, thou Balmy Cure to an Heart o'erloaded. If Rapture, Solicitation, soft Desire, and pleasing Anxiety—But still I live in the most afflicting of all Circumstances, Doubt—Cannot my Charmer name the Place and Moment?
There all those Joys insatiably to prove,
With which Rich Beauty feeds the Glutton, Love.
Forgive me, Madam, it is not that my Heart is weary of its Chain, but—This incoherent Stuff was answer'd by a tender Sigh, Why do you put your Wit to a week Woman?
Strephon
saw he had made some Progress in her Heart, and pursued it, by saying that he would certainly wait upon her at such an Hour near
Rosamond
's Pond; and then—The Sylvian Deities, and Rural Powers of the Place, sacred and inviolable to
Love; Love,
The Mover of all noble Hearts, should hear his Vows repeated by the Streams and Ecchoes. The Assignation was accordingly made. This Style he calls the unintelligible Method of speaking his Mind; and I'll engage, had this Gallant spoken plain
English,
she had never understood him half so readily: For we may take it for granted, That he'll be esteemed as a very cold Lover, who discovers to his Mistress that he is in his Senses.
From my own Apartment,
August 26.
The following Letter came to my Hand, with a Request to have the Subject recommended to our Readers, particularly the Smart Fellows, who are desired to repair to Major
Touch-hole,
who can help them to Firelocks that are only fit for Exercise.
Just ready for the Press,
MArs Triumphant,
or,
London's Glory:
Being the whole Art of Encampment, with the Method of embattelling Armies, marching them off, posting the Officers, forming hollow Squares, and the various Ways of paying the Salute with the Half-pike; as it was performed by the Train'd-Bands of
London
this Year, One Thousand Seven Hundred and Nine, in that Nursery of
Bellona
the
Artillery-Ground.
Wherein you have a new Method how to form a strong Line of Foot, with large Intervals between each Platon, very useful to prevent the breaking in of Horse. A Civil Way of performing the Military Ceremony; wherein the Major alights from his Horse, and at the Head of his Company salutes the Lieutenant-Colonel; and the Lieutenant-Colonel, to return the Compliment, courteously dismounts, and after the same Manner salutes his Major: Exactly as it was performed, with abundance of Applause, on the 5th of
July
last. Likewise an Account of a new Invention made use of in the Red Regiment to quell mutineering Captains; with several other Things alike useful for the Publick. To which is added, An Appendix by Major
Touch-hole;
proving the Method of Discipline now used in our Armies to be very defective: With an Essay towards an Amendment. Dedicated to the Lieutenant-Colonel of the First Regiment.
Mr.
Bickerstaff
has now in the Press,
A Defence of Aukward Fellows against the Class of the Smarts:
With a Dissertation upon the Gravity which becomes weighty Persons. Illustrated by Way of Fable, and a Discourse on the Nature of the Elephant, the Cow, the Dray-Horse, and the Dromedary, which have Motions equally steady and grave. To this is added, A Treatise written by an Elephant (according to
Pliny
) against receiving Foreigners into the Forrest. Adapted to some present Circumstances. Together with Allusions to such Beasts as declare against the Poor
Palatines.
The TATLER. [No 61.
From
Saturday Aug.
27. to
Tuesd. Aug.
30. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
August 29.
AMong many Phrases which have crept into Conversation, especially of such Company as frequent this Place, there is not one which misleads me more, than that of a
Fellow of a great deal of Fire.
This Metaphorical Term,
Fire,
has done much Good in keeping Coxcombs in Awe of one another; but at the same Time it has made 'em troublesome to every Body else. You see in the very Air of a
Fellow of Fire,
something so expressive of what he would be at, that if it were not for Self-Preservation, a Man would laugh out.
I had last Night the Fate to drink a Bottle with Two of these
Fire-men,
who are indeed dispersed like the
Mirmidons
in all Quarters, and to be met with among those of the most different Education. One of my Companions was a Scholar with
Fire;
the other a Soldier of the same Complexion. My learned Man would fall into Disputes, and argue without any Manner of Provocation or Contradiction: The other was decisive without Words, and would give a Shrug or an Oath to express his Opinion. My learned Man was a meer Scholar, and my Man of War as meer a Soldier. The Particularity of the First was ridiculous; that of the Second, terrible. They were Relations by Blood, which in some Measure moderated their Extravagancies towards each other: I gave my self up meerly as a Person of no Note in the Company, but as if brought to be convinced, that I was an inconsiderable Thing, any otherwise than that they would show each other to me, and make me Spectator of the Triumph they alternately enjoy'd. The Scholar has been very conversant with Books, and the other with Men only; which makes 'em both superficial: For the Taste of Books is necessary to our Behaviour in the best Company, and the Knowledge of Men is required for a true Relish of Books: But they have both
Fire,
which makes one pass for a Man of Sense, and the other for a Fine Gentleman. I found I could easily enough pass my Time with the Scholar; for if I seem'd not to do Justice to his Parts and Sentiments, he pitied me, and let me alone. But the Warrior could not let it rest there; I must know all that happen'd within his shallow Observations of the Nature of the War: To all which he
dded, an Air of Laziness, and Contempt of those of his Companions who were eminent for delighting in the Exercise and Knowledge of their Duty. Thus it is, that all the young Fellows of much animal Life, and little Understanding, that repair to our Armies, usurp upon the Conversation of reasonable Men, under the Notion of having
Fire.
The Word has not been of greater Use to shallow Lovers, to supply them with Chat to their Mistresses, than it has been to pretended Men of Pleasure to support them in being pert and dull, and saying of every Fool of their Order,
Such a one has Fire.
There is Colonel
Truncheon,
who marches with Divisions ready on all Occasions; an Hero who never doubted in his Life, but is ever positively fix'd in the Wrong, not out of obstinate Opinion, but invincible Stupidity.
It is very unhappy for this Latitude of
London,
that it is possible for such as can learn only Fashion, Habit, and a Set of common Phrases of Salutation, to pass with no other Accomplishments, in this Nation of Freedom, for Men of Conversation and Sense. All these ought to pretend to, is, not to offend; but they carry it so far, as to be negligent, whether they offend or not;
For they have Fire.
But their Force differs from true Spirit, as much as a vicious from a mettlesome Horse. A Man of
Fire
is a general Enemy to all the Waiters where you drink, is the only Man affronted at the Company's being neglected, and makes the Drawers abroad, his Valet de Chambre and Footmen at home, know, he is not to be provoked without Danger.
This is not the
Fire
that animates the noble
Marinus,
a Youth of good Nature, Affability, and Moderation. He commands his Ship, as an Intelligence moves its Orb: He is the vital Life, and his Officers the Limbs of the Machine. His Vivacity is seen in doing all the Offices of Life with Readiness of Spirit, and Propriety in the Manner of doing them. To be ever active in laudable Pursuits, is the distinguishing Character of a Man of Merit; while the Common Behaviour of every gay Coxcomb of
Fire
is to be confidently in the Wrong, and dare to persist in it.
Will's Coffee-house,
August 29.
It is a common Objection against Writings of a Satyrical Mixture, that they hurt Men in their Reputations, and consequently in their Fortunes and Possessions; but a Gentleman who frequents this Room declared, he was of Opinion it ought to be so, provided such Performances had their proper Restrictions. The greatest Evils in humane Society are such as no Law can come at; as in the Case of Ingratitude, where the Manner of obliging very often leaves the Benefactor without Means of demanding Justice, though that very Circumstance should be the more binding to the Person who has received the Benefit. On such an Occasion, shall it be possible for the Malefactor to escape? And is it not lawful to set Marks upon Persons who live within the Law, and do base Things? Shall not we use the same Protection of those Laws to punish them, which they have to defend themselves? We shall therefore take it for a very moral Action to find a good Appellation for Offenders, and to turn them into Ridicule under feigned Names.
I am advertised by a Letter of
August
the 25th, That the Name of
Coppersmith
has very much wanted Explanation in the City, and by that Means unjustly given, by those who are conscious they deserve it themselves, to an honest and worthy Citizen belonging to the
Copper-Office;
but that Word is framed out of a moral Consideration of Wealth amongst Men, whereby he that has gotten any Part of it by Injustice and Extortion, is to be thought in the Eye of virtuous Men so much the poorer for such Gain. Thus all the Gold which is torn from our Neighbours, by making Advantage of their Wants, is Copper; and I authorize the
Lombards
to distinguish themselves accordingly. All the honest, who make a reasonable Profit, both for the Advantage of themselves and those they deal with, are Goldsmiths; but those who tear unjustly all they can, Coppersmiths. At the same Time I desire him who is most guilty, to sit down satisfied with Riches and Contempt, and be known by the Title of,
The Coppersmith;
as being the Chief of that respected, contemptible Fraternity.
This is the Case of all others mentioned in our Lucubrations, particularly of
Stentor,
who goes on in his Vociferations at St.
Paul
's with so much Obstinacy, that he has received Admonition from St.
Peter
's for it from a Person of eminent Wit and Piety; but who is by old Age reduced to the Infirmity of sleeping at a Service, to which he has been Fifty Years attentive, and whose Death, whenever it happens, may, with that of the Saints, well be called, Falling asleep; for the Innocence of his Life makes him expect it as indifferently as he does his ordinary Rest. This gives him a Chearfulness of Spirit to rally his own Weakness, and hath made him write to
Stentor
to hearken to my Admonitions. Brother
Stentor,
(said he) for the Repose of the Church, hearken to
Bickerstaff,
and consider, that while you are so devout at St.
Paul
's, we cannot sleep for you at St.
Peter
's.
From my own Apartment,
August 29.
There has been lately sent me a much harder Question than was ever yet put to me since I professed Astrology; to wit, How far, and to what Age, Women ought to make their Beauty their chief Concern? The Regard and Care of their Faces and Persons are as variously to be consider'd, as their Complexions themselves differ; but if one may transgress against the careful Practice of the Fair Sex so much as to give an Opinion against it, I humbly presume, that less Care, better apply'd, would increase their Empire, and make it last as long as Life. Whereas now, from their own Example, we take our Esteem of their Merit from it; for it is very just, that she who values her self only on her Beauty, should be regarded by others on no other Consideration.
There is certainly a liberal and pedantick Education among Women as well as Men, and the Merit lasts accordingly. She therefore that is bred with Freedom, and in good Company, considers Men according to their respective Characters and Distinctions; while she that is lock'd up from such Observations, will consider her Father's Butler not as a Butler, but as a Man. In like Manner, when Men converse with Women, the Well-bred and Intelligent are looked upon with an Observation suitable to their different Talents and Accomplishments, without Respect to their Sex; while a meer Woman can be observed under no Consideration but that of a Woman; and there can be but one Reason for placing any Value upon her, or losing Time in her Company. Wherefore I am of Opinion, that the Rule for pleasing long, is, to obtain such Qualifications as would make them so were they not Women.
Let the beauteous
Cleomira
then shew us her real Face, and know, that every Stage of Life has its peculiar Charms, and that there is no Necessity for Fifty to be Fifteen: That Childish colouring of her Cheeks is now as ungraceful, as that Shape would have been when her Face wore its real Countenance. She has Sense, and ought to know, that if she will not follow Nature, Nature will follow her. Time then has made that Person, which had (when I visited her Grandfather) an agreeable Bloom, sprightly Air, and soft Utterance, now no less graceful in a lovely Aspect, an awful Manner, and material Wisdom. But her Heart was so set upon her first Character, that she neglects and repines at her present; not that she is against a more stay'd Conduct in others, for she recommends Gravity, Circumspection, and Severity of Countenance, to her Daughter. Thus, against all Chronology, the Girl is the Sage, the Mother the Fine Lady.
But these great Evils proceed from an unaccountable wild Method in the Education of the better half of the World, the Women. We have no such Thing as a Standard for good Breeding. I was the other Day at my Lady
Wealthy
's, and asked one of her Daughters, How she did? She answer'd, She never convers'd with Men. The same Day I visited at Lady
Plantwell
's, and ask'd her Daughter the same Question. She answers, What's that to you, you old Thief? And gives me a Slap on the Shoulders.
I defy any Man in
England,
except he knows the Family before he enters, to be able to iudge whether he shall be agreeable or not, when he comes into it. You find either some odd old Woman, who is permitted to rule as long as she lives, in Hopes of her Death, and to interrupt all Things; or some impertinent young Woman, who will talk sillily upon the Strength of looking beautifully. I will not answer for it, but it may be, that I (like all other old Fellows) have a Fondness for the Fashions and Manners which prevailed when I was young and in Fashion my self: But certain it is, that the Taste of Grace and Beauty is very much lower'd! The Fine Women they show me now-a-days, are at best but pretty Girls to me who have seen
Sacharissa,
when all the World repeated the Poems she inspir'd, and
Villaria,
when a youthful King was her Subject. The Things you follow and make Songs on now, should be sent to knit, or sit down to Bobbins or Bone-Lace: They are indeed neat, and so are their Sempstresses; they are pretty, and so are their Handmaids. But that graceful Motion; that awful Mien, and that winning Attraction, which grew upon 'em from the Thoughts and Conversations they met with in my Time, are now no more seen. They tell me I am old: I am glad I am so; for I don't like your present young Ladies.
Those among us who set up for any Thing of Decorum, do so mistake the Matter, that they offend on the other Side. Five young Ladies who are of no small Fame for their great Severity of Manners, and exemplary Behaviour, would lately go no where with their Lovers but to an Organ-Loft in a Church, where they had a Cold Treat, and some few Opera Songs, to their great Refreshment and Edification. Whether these prudent Persons had not been as much so, if this had been done at a Tavern, is not very hard to determine. 'Tis such silly Starts and Incoherences as these which undervalue the beauteous Sex, and puzzle us in our Choice of Sweetness of Temper and Simplicity of Manners, which are the only lasting Charms of Woman. But I must leave this important Subject at present, for some Matters which press for Publication; as you will observe in the following Letter:
Dear Sir,
'TIS natural for distant Relations to claim Kindred with a rising Family; though, at this Time, Zeal to my Country, not Interest, calls me out. The City Forces being shortly to take the Field, all good Protestants would be pleased that their Arms and Valour should shine with equal Lustre. A Council of War was lately held, the Honourable Colonel
Mortar
being President. After many Debates, 'twas unanimously resolved, That Major
Blunder,
a most expert Officer, should be detached for
Bromingham
to buy Arms, and to prove his Fire-locks on the Spot, as well to prevent Expence, as Disappointment in the Day of Battle. The Major being a Person of consummate Experience, was invested with a Discretionary Power. He knew from ancient Story, that securing the Rear, and making a glorious Retreat, was the most celebrated Piece of Conduct. Accordingly such Measures were taken to prevent Surprize in the Rear of his Arms, that even
Pallas
her self, in the Shape of Rust, could not invade them. They were drawn into close Order, firmly embodied, and arrived securely without Touch-holes. Great and National Actions deserve popular Applause; and as Praise is no Expence to the Publick, therefore, dearest Kinsman, I communicate this to you, as well to oblige this Nursery of Heroes, as to do Justice to my native Country. I am,
Your most Affectionate Kinsman,
Offspring Twig.
London,
Aug. 26.
Artillery-Ground.
A War-Horse, belonging to one of the Colonels of the Artillery, to be Let or Sold. He may be seen, adorn'd with Ribands, and set forth to the best Advantage, the next Training-Day.
The TATLER. [No 62.
From
Tuesd. Aug.
30. to
Thursd. Sept.
1. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
August 31.
THIS Place being frequented by Persons of Condition, I am desired to recommend a Dog-kennel to any who shall want a Pack. It lies not far from
Suffolk-street,
and is kept by Two who were formerly Dragoons in the
French
Service; but left Plundering for the more orderly Life of keeping Dogs: Besides that, according to their Expectation, they find it more profitable, as well as more conducing to the Safety of their Skin, to follow this Trade, than the Beat of Drum. Their Residence is very convenient for the Dogs to whelp in, and bring up a right Breed to follow the Scent. The most eminent of the Kennel are Blood-hounds, which lead the Van, and are as follow:
A List of the Dogs.
Jowler,
of a right
Irish
Breed, called Captain.
Rockwood,
of
French
Race, with long Hair, by the Courtesy of
England
called also Captain.
Pompey,
a tall Hound, kennelled in a
Convent
in
France,
and knows a rich Soil.
These Two last hunt in Couple, and are followed by,
Ringwood,
a
French
black Whelp of the same Breed, a fine open-mouth'd Dog; and an old sick Hound, always in Kennel; but of the true Blood, with a good Nose,
French
Breed.
There is also an
Italian
Greyhound, with good Legs, and knows perfectly the Ground from
Ghent
to
Paris.
Ten Setting-Dogs, right
English.
Four Mongrels, of the same Nation.
And Twenty Whelps, fit for any Game.
These Curs are so extremely hungry, that they are too keen at the Sport, and worry their Game before the Keepers can come in. The other Day a Wild-Boar from the North rushed into the Kennel, and at first indeed defended himself against the whole Pack; but they proved at last too many for him, and tore 25 Pounds of Flesh from off his Back, with which they filled their Bellies, and made so great a Noise in the Neighbourhood, that the Keepers are obliged to hasten the Sale. That Quarter of the Town where they are kennell'd is generally inhabited by Strangers, whose Blood the Hounds have often sucked in such a Manner, that many a
German
Count, and other
Virtuosi,
who came from the Continent, have lost the Intention of their Travels, and been unable to proceed on their Journey.
If these Hounds are not very soon disposed of to some good Purchaser, as also those at the Kennels nearer St.
James
's, it is humbly proposed, that they may be altogether transported to
America,
where the Dogs are few, and the Wild-Beasts many. Or, that during their Stay in these Parts, some eminent Justice of the Peace may have it in particular Direction to visit their Harbours; and that the Sheriff of
Middlesex
may allow him the Assistance of the Common Hangman to cut off their Ears, or Part of them, for Distinction-sake, that we may know the Bloodhounds from the Mongrels and Setters. Till these Things are regulated, you may inquire at an House belonging to
Paris
at the upper End of
Suffolk-Street,
or an House belonging to
Ghent,
opposite to the lower End of
Pull-Mall,
and know further.
It were to be wished that these Curs were disposed of; for it is a very great Nusance to have them tolerated in Cities. That of
London
takes Care, that the Common Hunt, assisted by the Sergeants and Bailiffs, expel them wherever they are found within the Walls; though 'tis said, some private Families keep them, to the Destruction of their Neighbours: But it is desired, that all who know of any of these Curs, or have been bit by them, would send me their Marks, and the Houses where they are harboured, and I do not doubt but I shall alarm the People so well, as to have them used like mad Dogs whereever they appear. In the mean Time, I advise all such as entertain this kind of Vermin, that if they give me timely Notice that their Dogs are dismissed, I shall let them go unregarded, otherwise am obliged to admonish my Fellow. Subjects in this Behalf, and instruct them how to avoid being worried, when they are going about their lawful Professions and Callings. There was lately a young Gentleman bit to the Bone; who has now indeed recovered his Health, but is as lean as a Skeleton. It grieved my Heart to see a Gentleman's Son run among the Hounds; but he is, they tell me, as fleet and as dangerous as the best of the Pack.
Will's Coffee-house,
August 31.
This Evening was spent at our Table in Discourse of Propriety of Words and Thoughts, which is Mr.
Dryden
's Definition of Wit; but a very odd Fellow, who would intrude upon us, and has a Briskness of Imagination more like Madness than regular Thought, said, that
Harry Jacks
was the first who told him of the taking of the Citadel of
Tournay,
and (says he)
Harry
deserves a Statue more than the Boy who ran to the Senate with a Thorn in his Foot to tell of a Victory. We were astonish'd at the Assertion, and
Spondee
asked him. What Affinity is there between that Boy and
Harry,
that you say then Merit resembles so much as you just now told us? Why, (says he)
Harry
you know is in the
French
Interest, and it was more Pain to him to tell the Story of
Tournay,
than to the Boy to run upon a Thorn to relate a Victory which he was glad of. The Gentleman who was in the Chair upon the Subject of Propriety of Words and Thoughts, would by no Means allow, that there was Wit in this Comparison; and urged, that to have any Thing gracefully said, it must be natural; but that whatsoever was introduced in common Discourse with so much Premeditation, was insufferable. That Critick went on: Had Mr.
Jacks
(said he) told him the Citadel was taken, and another had answer'd, He deserves a Statue as well as the
Roman
Boy, for he told it with as much Pain; it might have passed for a sprightly Expression: But there is a Wit for Discourse, and a Wit for Writing. The Easiness and Familiarity of the first, is not to savour in the least of Study; but the Exactness of the other, is to admit of something like the Freedom of Discourse, especially in Treatises of Humanity, and what regards the
Belles Lettres.
I do not in this allow, that
Bickerstaff
's
Tatlers,
or Discourses of Wit by Retail, and for the Penny, should come within the Description of
Writing.
I bowed at his Compliment, and—But he would not let me proceed.
You see in no Place of Conversation the Perfection of Speech so much as in an accomplished Woman. Whether it be, that there is a Partiality irresistible when we judge of that Sex, or whatever it is you may observe a wonderful Freedom in their Utterance, and an easy Flow of Words, without being distracted (as we often are who read, much) in the Choice of Dictions and Phrases. My Lady
Courtly
is an Instance of this: She was talking the other Day of Dress, and did it with so excellent an Air and Gesture, that you would have sworn she had learned her Action from our
Demosthenes.
Besides which, her Words were so particularly well adapted to the Matter she talked of, that tho' Dress was a new Thing to us Men, she avoided the Terms of Art in it, and described an unaffected Garb and Manner in so proper Terms, that she came up to that
Horace
's
Simplex Munditiis;
which, whoever can translate in Two Words, has as much Eloquence as Lady
Courtly.
I took the Liberty to tell her, That all she had said with so much good Grace, was spoken in Two Words in
Horace,
but would not undertake to translate them; upon which she smiled, and told me, She believed me a very great Scholar, and I took my Leave.
From my own Apartment,
August 31.
I have been just now reading the Introduction to the History of
Catiliue
by
Sallust,
an Author who is very much in my Favour; but when I reflect upon his professing himself wholly disinterested, and at the same Time see how industriously he has avoided saying any Thing to the Praise of
Cicero,
to whose Vigilance the Commonwealth owed its Safety, it very much lessens my Esteem for that Writer; and is one Argument among others, for laughing at all who pretend to be out of the Interests of the World, and profess purely to act for the Service of Mankind, without the least Regard to themselves. I do not deny but that the Rewards are different; some aim at Riches, others at Honour, by their publick Services. However, they are all pursuing some End to themselves, though indeed those Ends differ as much as Right and Wrong. The most graceful Way then, I should think, would be to acknowledge, that you aim at serving your selves; but at the same Time make it appear, it is for the Service of others that you have these Opportunities.
Of all the disinterested Professors I have ever heard of, I take the Boatswain of
Dampier
's Ship to be the most impudent, but the must excusable. You are to know, that in the wild Searches that Navigator was making, they happen'd to be out at Sea, far distant from any Shore, in Want of all the Necessaries of Life; insomuch, that they began to look, not without Hunger, on each other. The Boatswain was a fat, healthy, fresh Fellow, and attracted the Eyes of the whole Crew. In such an extreme Necessity, all Forms of Superiority were laid aside: The Captain and Lieutenant were safe only by being Carrion, and the unhappy Boatswain in Danger only by being worth eating. To be short, the Company were unanimous, and the Boatswain must be cut up. He saw their Intention, and desired he might speak a few Words before they proceeded; which being permitted, he delivered himself as follows:
Gentlemen Sailors,
Far be it that I should speak it for any private Interest of my own, but I take it, that I should not die with a good Conscience, if I did not confess to you that I am not sound. I say, Gentlemen, Justice, and the Testimony of a good Conscience, as well as Love of my Country, to which I hope you will all return, oblige me to own, that Black Kate at
Deptford
has made me very unsafe to eat; and (I speak it with Shame) I am afraid, Gentlemen, I should poison you.
This Speech had a good Effect in the Boatswain's Favour; but the Surgeon of the Ship protested, he had cured him very well, and offered to eat the first Stake of him himself.
The Boatswain replied, (like an Orator, with a true Notion of the People, and in Hopes to gain Time) That he was heartily glad if he could be for their Service, and thanked the Surgeon for his Information. However, said he, I must inform you, for your own Good, that I have ever since my Cure been very thirsty and dropsical; therefore I presume it would be much better to tap me and drink me off, than eat me at once, and have no Man in the Ship fit to be drank. As he was going on with his Harangue, a fresh Gale arose, and gave the Crew Hopes of a better Repast at the nearest Shore, to which they arrived next Morning.
Most of the Self-Denials we meet with are of this Sort; therefore I think he acts fairest who owns, he hopes at least to have Brother's Fare, without professing that he gives himself up with Pleasure to be devoured for the Preservation of his Fellows.
St. James's Coffee-house,
Aug. 31.
Letters from the
Hague
of the 6th of
September, N. S.
say, That the Governor of the Citadel of
Tournay
having offered their Highnesses the Duke of
Marlborough
and the Prince of
Savoy
to surrender that Place on the 31st of the last Month, on Terms which were not allowed them by those Princes, Hostilities were thereupon renewed; but that on the 3d the Place was surrendered, with a seeming Condition granted to the Besieged above that of being Prisoners of War; for they were forthwith to be conducted to
Condé,
but were to be exchanged for Prisoners of the Allies, and particularly those of
Warniton
were mentioned in the Demand. Both Armies having stretched towards
Mons
with the utmost Diligence, that of the Allies, though they passed the much more difficult Road, arrived first before that Town, which they have now actually invested; and the Quartermaster-General was, at the Time of Dispatching these Letters, marking the Ground for the Encampment of the covering Army.
To the Booksellers, or others whom this Advertisement may concern.
Mr.
Omicron,
the Unborn Poet, gives Notice, That he writes all Treatises as well in Verse as Prose, being a Ninth Son, and translates out of all Languages, without Learning or Study.
If any Bookseller will treat for his Pastoral on the Siege and Surrender of the Citadel of
Tournay,
he must send in his Proposals before the News of a Capitulation for any other Town.
The Undertaker for either Play house may have an Opera written by him; or, if it shall suit their Design, a Satyr upon Opera's; both ready for next Winter.
This is to give Notice, That
Richard Farloe,
M. A. well known for his Acuteness in Dissection of dead Bodies, and his great Skill in Osteology, has now laid by that Practice; and having, by great Study and much Labour, acquired the Knowledge of an Antidote for all the most common Maladies of the Stomach, is removed, and may be applied to, at any Time of the Day, in the South Entrance from
Newgate-street
into
Christ
's Hospital.
The TATLER. [No 63.
From
Thursd. Sept.
1. to
Saturd. Sept.
3. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
Sept. 2.
Of the Enjoyment of Life with Regard to others.
I Have ever thought it the greatest Diminution to the
Roman
Glory imaginable, that in their Institution of Publick Triumphs, they led their Enemies in Chains when they were Prisoners. It is to be allowed, that doing all Honour to the Superiority of Heroes above the rest of Mankind, must needs conduce to the Glory and Advantage of a Nation; but what shocks the Imagination to reflect upon, is, that a polite People should think it reasonable, that an unhappy Man, who was no Way inferior to the Victor but by the Chance of War, should be led like a Slave at the Wheels of his Chariot. Indeed, these other Circumstances of a Triumph, That it was not allowed in a Civil War, lest Part of it should be in Tears, while the other was making Acclamations; That it should not be granted, except such a Number were slain in Battle; That the General should be disgraced who made a false Muster of his Dead: These, I say, had great and politick Ends in their being establish'd, and tended to the apparent Benefit of the Commonwealth. But this Behaviour to the Conquered had no Foundation in Nature or Policy, only to gratify the Insolence of an haughty People, who triumphed over barbarous Nations, by acting what was fit only for those very Barbarians to practise. It seems wonderful, that they who were so refined as to take Care, that to compleat the Honour done to the victorious Officer, no Power should be known above him in the Empire on the Day of his Triumph, but that the Consuls themselves should be but Guests at his Table that Evening, could not take it into Thought to make the Man of chief Note among his Prisoners one of the Company. This would have improved the Gladness of the Occasion, and the Victor had made a much greater Figure, in that no other Man appeared unhappy on his Day, than because no other Man appeared great.
But we will wave at present such important Incidents, and turn our Thoughts rather to the familiar Part of humane Life, and we shall find, that the great Business we contend for, is in a less Degree what those
Romans
did on more solemn Occasions, to triumph over our Fellow, Creatures; and there is hardly a Man to be found, who would not rather be in Pain to appear happy, than be really happy and thought miserable. This Men attempt by sumptuous Equipages, splendid Houses, numerous Servants, and all the Cares and Pursuits of an ambitious or fashionable Life.
Bromeo
and
Tabio
are particularly Ill-wishers to each other, and Rivals in Happiness. There is no Way in Nature so good to procure the Esteem of the one, as to give him little Notices of certain secret Points wherein the other is uneasy.
Gnath
has the Skill of doing this, and never applauds the Improvements
Bromeo
has been many Years making, and ever will be making; but he adds,
'Now this very Thing was my Thought when
Tabio
was pulling up his Underwood, yet he never would hear of it; but now your Gardens are in this Posture, he is ready to hand himself. Well, to be sincere, that Situation of his can never make an agreeable Seat: He may make his House and Appurtenances what he pleases; but he cannot remove them to the same Ground where
Bromeo
stands; and of all Things under the Sun, a Man that is happy at Second-hand is the most monstrous."
'Tis a very strange Madness (answers
Bromeo
) if a Man on these Occasions can think of any End but pleasing himself. As for my Part, if Things are convenient, I hate all Ostentation: There is no End of the Folly of adapting our Affairs to the Imagination of others. Upon which, the next Thing he does, is to enlarge whatever he hears his Rival has attempted to imitate him in; but their Misfortune is, that they are in their Time of Life, in their Estates, and in their Understandings equal; so that the Emulation may continue to the last Day of their Lives. As it stands now,
Tabio
has heard
Bromeo
has lately purchased Two Hundred a Year in the Annuities since he has settled the Account of their Happiness, in which he thought himself to have the Ballance. This may seem a very fantastical Way of Thinking in these Men; but there is nothing so common, as a Man's endeavouring rather to go further than some other Person towards an easy Fortune, than to form any certain Standard that would make himself happy.
Will's Coffee-house,
September 2.
Mr.
Dactile
has been this Evening very profuse of his Eloquence upon the Talent of turning Things into Ridicule; and seemed to say very justly. That there was generally in it something too disingenuous for the Society of liberal Men, except it were governed by the Circumstances of Persons, Time, and Place. This Talent, continued he, is to be used as a Man does his Sword, not to be drawn but in his own Defence, or to bring Pretenders and Impostors in Society to a true Light. But we have seen this Faculty so mistaken, that the Burlesque of
Virgil
himself has passed, among Men of little Tast, for Wit; and the noblest Thoughts that can enter into the Heart of Man, levelled with Ribaldry and Bafeness: Though by the Rules of Justice, no Man ought to be ridiculed for any Imperfection, who does not set up for eminent Sufficiency in that Way wherein he is defective. Thus Cowards, who would hide themselves by an affected Terror in their Mien and Dress; and Pedants, who would show the Depth of their Knowledge by a supercilious Gravity, are equally the Objects of Laughter. Not that they are in themselves ridiculous for their Want of Courage, or Weakness of Understanding, but that they seem insensible of their own Place in Life, and unhappily rank themselves with those, whose Abilities, compared to their Defects, make them contemptible.
At the same Time, it must be remarked, That Risibility being the Effect of Reason, a Man ought to be expelled from sober Company who laughs without it. Ha! ha! says
Will. Truby,
who sat by, Will any Man pretend to give me Laws when I should laugh, or tell me what I should laugh at? Look ye, answer'd
Humphrey Slyboots,
you are mightily mistaken; you may, if you please, make what Noise you will, and no Body can hinder an
English
Gentleman from putting his Face into what Posture he thinks fit; but, take my Word for it, that Motion which you now make with your Mouth open, and the Agitation of your Stomach, which you relieve by holding your Sides, is not Laughter: Laughter is a more weighty Thing than you imagine; and I'll tell you a Secret, You never did laugh in your Life; and truly. I am afraid you never will, except you take great Care to be cured of those Convulsive Fits.
Truby
left us, and when he had got Two Yards from us, Well (said he) you are strange Fellows, and was immediately taken with another Fit.
The
Trubies
are a well-natured Family, whose particular Make is such, that they have the same Pleasure out of good Will, which other People have in that Scorn which is the Cause of Laughter: Therefore their bursting into the Figures of Men, when laughing, proceeds only from a general Benevolence they are born with; as the
Slyboots
smile only on the greatest Occasion of Mirth; which Difference is caused rather from a different Structure of their Organs, than that one is less moved than the other. I know
Sowerly
frets inwardly when
Will. Truby
laughs at him; but when I meet him, and he bursts out, I know 'tis out of his abundant Joy to see me, which he expresses by that Vociferation which is in others Laughter. But I shall defer considering this Subject at large, till I come to my Treatise of Oscitation, Laughter, and Ridicule.
From my own Apartment,
September 2.
The following Letter being a Panegyrick upon me for a Quality which every Man may attain, an Acknowledgment of his Faults; I thought it for the Good of my Fellow-Writers to publish it.
SIR,
IT must be allowed, that Esquire
Bickerstaff
is of all Authors the most ingenuous. There are few, very few, that will own themselves in a Mistake, though all the World see them to be in downright Nonsence. You'll be pleased, Sir, to pardon this Expression, for the same Reason for which you once desired us to excuse you when you seem'd any thing dull. Most Writers, like the Generality of
Paul I orrain's
Saints, seem to place a peculiar Vanity in dying hard. But you, Sir, to show a good Example to your Brethren, have not only confessed, but of your own Accord mended the Indictment. Nay, you have been so good-natured as to discover Beauties in it, which, I'll assure you, he that drew it never dreamed of: And to make your Civility the more accomplish'd, you have honoured him with the Title of your Kinsman, which though derived by the Left-Hand, he is not a little proud of. My Brother (for such
Obadiah
is) being at present very busy about nothing, has ordered me to return you his sincere Thanks for all these Favours; and, as a small Token of his Gratitude, to communicate to you the following Piece of Intelligence, which, he thinks, belongs more properly to you than to any others of our modern Historians.
Madonella,
who as 'twas thought had long since taken her Flight towards the Aetherial Mansions, still walks, it seems, in the Regions of Mortality; where she has found, by deep Reflections on the Revolution mentioned in yours of
June
the 2
d, That where early Instructions have been wanting to imprint true Idea's of Things on the tender Souls of those of her Sex, they are never after able to arrive at such a Pitch of Perfection, as to be above the Laws of Matter and Motion; Laws which are considerably inforced by the Principles usually imbibed in Nurseries and Boarding-Schools. To remedy this Evil, she has laid the Scheme of a College for young Damsels; where, instead of Scissors, Needles, and Samplers; Pens, Compasses, Quadrants, Books, Manuscripts, Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, are to take up their whole Time. Only on Holidays the Students will, for moderate Exercise, be allowed to divert themselves with the Use of some of the lightest and most voluble Weapons; and proper Care will be taken to give them at least a superficial Tincture of the Ancient and Modern Amazonian Tacticks. Of these Military Performances, the Direction is undertaken by
Epicene,
the Writer of
Memoirs from the Mediterranean,
who, by the Help of some artificial Poisons conveyed by Smells, has within these few Weeks brought many Persons of both Sexes to an untimely Fate; and, what is more surprising, has, contrary to her Profession, with the same Odors, revived others who had long since been drowned in the Whirlpools of
Lethe.
Another of the Professors is to be a certain Lady, who is now publishing Two of the choicest
Saxon
Novels, which are said to have been in as great Repute with the Ladies of Queen
Emma
's Court, as the
Memoirs from the New Atalantis
are with those of ours. I shall make it my Business to enquire into the Progress of this learned Institution, and give you the first Notice of their Philosophical Transactions, and Searches after Nature.
Yours,
&c. Tobiah Greenhat.
St. James's Coffee-house,
Sept. 2.
This Day we have received Advices by the Way of
Ostend,
which give an Account of an Engagement between the
French
and the Allies on the 11th Instant,
N. S.
Marshal
Boufflers
arrived in the Enemy's Camp on the 5th, and acquainted Marshal
Villars,
That he did not come in any Character, but to receive his Commands for the King's Service, and communicate to him his Orders upon the present Posture of Affairs. On the 9th, both Armies advanced towards each other, and cannonaded all the ensuing Day till the Close of the Evening, and stood on their Arms all that Night. On the Day of Battle, the Cannonading was renewed about Seven: The Duke of
Argyle
had Orders to attack the Wood
Saar
on the Right, which he executed so successfully, that he pierced through it, and won a considerable Post. The Prince of
Orange
had the same good Fortune in a Wood on the Left: After which, the whole Body of the Confederates, join'd by the Forces from the Siege, marched up and engaged the Enemy, who were drawn up at some Distance from these Woods. The Dispute was very warm for some Time; but towards Noon the
French
began to give Ground from one Wing to the other: Which Advantage being observed by our Generals, the whole Army was urged on with fresh Vigour, and in a few Hours the Day ended with the entire Defeat of the Enemy.
The TATLER. [No 64.
Quae caret Ora Cruore nostro?
From
Saturd. Sept.
3. to
Tuesd. Sept.
6. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Sept. 5.
WHen I lately spoke of Triumphs, and the Behaviour of the
Romans
on those Occasions, I knew by my Skill in Astrology, that there was a great Event approaching to our Advantage; but not having yet taken upon me to tell Fortunes, I thought fit to defer the Mention of the Battle near
Mons
till it happened; which Moderation was no small Pain to me: But I should wrong my Art, if I conceal'd that some of my Aerial Intelligencers had signified to me the News of it ev'n from
Paris,
before the Arrival of Lieutenant-Colonel
Graham
in
England.
All Nations, as well as Persons, have their good and evil Genius attending 'em; but the Kingdom of
France
has Three, the last of which is neither for it nor against it in Reality, but has for some Months past acted an ambiguous Part, and attempted to save its Ward from the Incursion of its powerful Enemies, by little Subterfuges, and Tricks, which a Nation is more than undone when it is reduced to Practice. Thus, instead of giving exact Accounts and Representations of Things, they tell what is indeed true, but at the same Time a Falshood when all the Circumstances come to be related.
Pacolet
was at the Court of
France
on
Friday
Night last, when this Genius of that Kingdom came thither in the Shape of a Post-Boy, and cried out, That
Mons
was relieved, and the Duke of
Marlborough
marched.
Pacolet
was much astonished at this Account, and immediately changed his Form, and flew to the Neighbourhood of
Mons,
from whence he found the Allies had really marched, and began to enquire into the Reasons of this sudden Change, and half feared he had heard a Truth of the Posture of the
French
Affairs, even in their own Country. But upon diligent Enquiry among the Aerials who attend these Regions, and Consultation with the neighbouring Peasants, he was able to bring me the following Account of the Motions of the Armies since they retired from about that Place, and the Action which followed thereupon.
On
Saturday
the 7th of
September, N. S.
The Confederate Army was alarm'd in their Camp at
Havre,
by Intelligence, That the Enemy were marching to attack the Prince of
Hesse.
Upon this Advice, the Duke of
Marlborough
commanded that the Troops should immediately move, which was accordingly performed, and they were all join'd on
Sunday
the Eighth at Noon. On that Day in the Morning it appeared, that instead of being attack'd, the advanced Guard of the Detachment commanded by the Prince of
Hesse
had dispersed and taken Prisoners a Party of the Enemy's Horse, which was sent out to observe the March of the Confederates. The
French
moved from
Quiverain
on
Sunday
in the Morning and inclined to the Right from thence all that Day. The 9th, the
Monday
following, they continued their March till on
Tuesday
the Tenth they possess'd themselves of the Woods of
Dour
and
Blaugies.
As soon as they came into that Ground, they threw up Intrenchments with all Expedition. The Allies arrived within few Hours after the Enemy was posted; but the Duke of
Marlborough
thought fit to wait for the Arrival of the Reinforcement which he expected from the Siege of
Tournay.
Upon Notice that these Troops were so far advanced, as to be depended on for an Action the next Day, it was accordingly resolv'd to engage the Enemy.
It will be necessary for understanding the Greatness of the Action, and the several Motions made in the Time of the Engagement, that you have in your Mind an Idea of the Place. The Two Armies on the 11th Instant were both drawn up before the Woods of
Dour, Blangies, Sart
and
Jansart;
the Army of the Prince of
Savoy
on the Right before that of
Blangies;
the Forces of
Groat Britain
in the Center on his Left; those of the High Allies, with the Wood
Sart,
as well as a large Interval of plain Ground, and
Jansart,
on the Left of the Whole. The Enemy were intrenched in the Paths of the Woods, and drawn up behind Two Intrenchments over-against them, opposite to the Armies of the Duke of
Marlborough
and Prince
Eugene.
There were also, Two Lines intrenched in the Plains over-against the Army of the States. This was the Posture of the
French
and Confederate Forces when the Signal was given and the whole Line moved on to the Charge.
The
Dutch
Army, commanded by the Prince of
Hesse,
attack'd with the most undaunted Bravery; and after a very obstinate Resistance, forced the first Intrenchment of the Enemy in the Plain between
Sart
and
Jansart;
but were repulsed in their Attack on the Second with great Slaughter on both Sides. The Duke of
Marlborough,
while this was tranfacting on the Left, had with very much Difficulty marched through
Sart,
and beaten the Enemy from the several Intrenchments they had thrown up in it. As soon as the Duke had marched into the Plain, he observed the main Body of the Enemy drawn up and intrenched in the Front of his Army. This Situation of the Enemy, in the ordinary Course of War, is usually thought an Advantage hardly to be surmounted; and might appear impracticable to any, but that Army which had just overcome greater Difficulties. The Duke commanded the Troops to form, but to forbear charging till further Order. In the mean Time he visited the Left of our Line, where the Troops of the States had been engaged. The Slaughter on this Side had been very great, and the
Dutch
incapable of making further Progress, except they were suddenly reinforced. The Right of our Line was attacked soon after their coming upon the Plain; but they drove back the Enemy with such Bravery, that the Victory began to incline to the Allies by the precipitate Retreat of the
French
to their Works, from whence they were immediately beaten. The Duke, upon observing this Advantage on the Right, commanded the Earl of
Orkney
to march with a sufficient Number of Battalions to force the Enemy from their Intrenchments on the Plain between the Woods of
Sart
and
Jansart;
which being performed, the Horse of the Allies marched into the Plains, covered by their own Foot, and forming themselves in good Order, the Cavalry of the Enemy attempted no more, but to cover the Foot in their Retreat. The Allies made so good Use of the beginning of the Victory, that all their Troops moved on with fresh Resolution, till they saw the Enemy fly before them towards
Condé
and
Maubeuge;
after whom proper Detachments were made, who made a terrible Slaughter in the Pursuit.
In this Action it is said Prince
Eugene
was wounded, as also the Duke of
Aremberg,
and Lieutenant-General
Webb.
The Count of
Oxenstern,
Colonel
Lalo,
and Sir
Thomas Pendergrass
were kill'd.
This wonderful Success, obtain'd under all the Difficulties that could be opposed in the Way of an Army, must be acknowledged as owing to the Genius, Courage and Conduct of the Duke of
Marlborough,
a Consummate Hero; who has lived not only beyond the Time in which
Caesar
said, He was arrived at a Satiety of Life and Glory; but also been so long the Subject of Panegyrick, that it is as hard to say any Thing new in his Praise, as to add to the Merit which requires such Eulogiums.
Will's Coffee-house,
September 5.
The following Letter being very explanatory of the true Design of our Lucubrations, and at the same Time an excellent Model for performing it, it is absolutely necessary, for the better understanding our Works, to publish it.
To
Isaac Bickerstaff
Esq
SIR,
THO' I have not the Honour to be of the Family of the
Staffs,
nor related to any Branch of it, yet I applaud your wholesome Project of making Wit useful.
This is what has been, or should have been, intended by the best Comedies. But no Body (I think) before you thought of a Way to bring the Stage as it were into the Coffee-house, and there attack those Gentlemen who thought themselves out of the Reach of Raillery, by prudently avoiding its chief Walks and Districts. I smile when I see a solid Citizen of Threescore read the Article from
Will
's
Coffee-house,
and seem to be just beginning to learn his Alphabet of Wit in Spectacles; and to hear the attentive Table sometimes stop him with pertinent Queries which he is puzzled to answer, and then join in commending it the sincerest Way, by freely owning he don't understand it.
In pursuing this Design, you will always have a large Scene before you, and can never be at a Loss for Characters to entertain a Town so plentifully stock'd with them. The Follies of the finest Minds, which a Philosophick Surgeon knows how to dissect, will best employ your Skill: And of this Sort, I take the Liberty to send you the following Sketch.
Cleontes
is a Man of good Family, good Learning, entertaining Conversation, and acute Wit. He talks well, is Master of Style, and writes not contemptibly in Verse. Yet all this serves but to make him politely ridiculous; and he is above the Rank of common Characters, only to have the Privilege of being laugh'd at by the Best. His Family makes him proud and scornful; his Learning, assuming and absurd; and his Wit, arrogant and satyrical. He mixes some of the best Qualities of the Head with the worst of the Heart. Every Body is entertain'd by him, while no Body esteems him. I am,
SIR,
Your most affectionate Monitor,
Josiah Couplet.
Lost from the
Tree
in
Pall-Mall,
Two
Irish
Dogs, belonging to the Pack of
London;
one a tall white Wolf-Dog; the other a black nimble Grey hound (not very sound, and suppos'd to be gone to the
Bath
by Instinct for Cure. The Man of the Inn from whence they ran being now there, is desired, if he meets either of them, to tie them up. Several others are lost about
Tunbridge
and
Epsom;
which whoever will maintain, may keep.
The TATLER. [No 65.
Quicquid agunt Homines nostri Farrago Libelli.
From
Tuesd. Sept.
6. to
Thursd. Sept.
8. 1709.
Will's Coffee-house,
September 7.
I Came hither this Evening, and expected nothing else but mutual Congratulations in the Company on the late Victory; but found our Room, which one would have hoped to have seen full of good Humour and Alacrity upon so glorious an Occasion, full of sowr Animals, enquiring into the Action, in Doubt of what had happened, and fearful of the Success of their Country-Men. It is natural to believe easily what we wish heartily; and a certain Rule, That they are not Friends to a glad Occasion, who speak all they can against the Truth of it; who end their Argument against our Happiness, that they wish it otherwise. When I came into the Room, a Gentleman was declaiming; If (says he) we have so great and compleat a Victory, Why have we not the Names of the Prisoners? Why is not an exact Relation of the Conduct of our Generals laid before the World? Why do we not know where or whom to applaud? If we are victorious, Why do we not give an Account of our Captives and our Slain? But we are to be satisfy'd with general Notices we are Conquerors, and to believe it so. Sure this is approving the despotick Way of treating the World, which we pretend to sight against, if we sit down satisfied with such contradictory Accounts, which have the Words of Triumph, but do not bear the Spirit of it. I whispered Mr.
Greenhat,
Pray what can that dissatisfied Man be? He is, answered he, a Character you have not yet perhaps observed. You have heard of Battle-Painters, have mentioned a Battle-Poet; but this is a Battle-Critick. He is a Fellow that lives in a Government so gentle, that tho' it sees him an Enemy, suffers his Malice because they know his Impotence. He is to examine the Weight of an Advantage before the Company will allow it.
Greenhat
was going on in his Explanation, when Sir
George England
thought fit to take up the Discourse in the following Manner:
Gentlemen, The Action you are in so great Doubt to approve of, is greater than ever has been performed in any Age; and the Value of it I observe from your Dissatisfaction: For Battle-Criticks are like all others; you are the more offended, the more you ought to be, and are convinced you ought to be pleased. Had this Engagement happened in the Time of the Old
Romans,
and such Things been acted in their Service, there would not be a Foot of the Wood which was pierced but had been consecrated to some Deity, or made memorable by the Death of him who expired in it for the Sake of his Country. It had been said on some Monument at the Entrance, Here the Duke of
Argyle
drew his Sword, and said, March. Here
Webb,
after having an accomplish'd Fame for Gallantry, expos'd himself like a common Soldier. Here
Rivett,
who was wounded at the Beginning of the Day, and carried off as dead, returned to the Field, and received his Death. Medals had been struck for our General's Behaviour when he first came into the Plain. Here was the Fury of the Action, and here the Hero stood as fearless as if invulnerable. Such certainly had been the Cares of that State for their own Honour, and in Gratitude to their Heroick Subjects. But the Wood entrenched, the Plain made more impassable than the Wood, and all the Difficulties opposed to the most gallant Army, and most intrepid Leaders that ever the Sun shone upon, are treated by the Talk of some in this Room as Objections to the Merit of our General and our Army: But (continued he) I leave all the Examination of this Matter, and a proper Discourse on our Sense of publick Actions, to my Friend Mr.
Bickerstaff,
who may let Beaus and Gamesters rest, till he has examined into the Reasons of Men's being Malecontents, in the only Nation that suffers profess'd Enemies to breath in open Air.
From my own Apartment,
Sept. 7.
The following Letters are sent to me from Relations; and tho' I do not know who and who are intended, I publish them. I have only writ Nonsence if there is nothing in them; and done a good Action if they alarm any heedless Men against the Fraternity of the Knights whom the
Greeks
call
.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
IT is taken very ill by several Gentlemen here, that you are so little vigilant, as to let the Dogs run from their Kennels to this Place. Had you done your Duty, we should have had Notice of their Arrival; but the
Sharpers
are now become so formidable here, that they have divided themselves into Nobles and Commons; Beau
Bogg,
Beau
Pert, Rake,
and
Tallboy,
are of their Upper House; Broken Captains, Ignorant Attorneys, and such other Bankrupts from industrious Professions, compose their Lower Order. Among these Two Sets of Men, there happened here lately some unhappy Differences: 'Squire
Humphry
came down among us with Four Hundred Guinea's. His raw Appearance, and certain Signals in the good-natured Muscles of
Humphry
's Countenance, alarmed the Societies: For
Sharpers
are as skilful as Beggars in Physiognomy, and know as well where to hope for Plunder, as the others to ask for Alms.
Pert
was the Man exactly fitted for taking with
Humphry
as a Fine Gentleman; for a raw Fool is ever enamoured with his Contrary, a Coxcomb; and a Coxcomb is what the Booby, who wants Experience, and is unus'd to Company, regards as the First of Men. He ever looks at him with Envy, and would certainly be such, if he were not oppressed by his Rusticity or Bashfulness. There arose an intire Friendship by this Sympathy between
Pert
and
Humphry,
which ended in stripping the latter. We now could see this forlorn Youth for some Days Monyless, without Sword, and one Day without his Hat, and with secret Melancholy pining for his Snuff-box; the Jest of the whole Town, but most of those who robb'd him.
At last fresh Bills came down, when immediately their Countenances cleared up, ancient Kindnesses and Familiarity renew'd, and to Dinner he was invited by the Fraternity. You are to know, that while he was in his Days of Solitude, a Commoner, who was excluded from his Share of the Prey, had whispered the 'Squire, that he was bit, and cautioned him of venturing again. However, Hopes of recovering his Snuff-box, which was given him by his Aunt, made him fall to play after Dinner; yet mindful of what he was told, he saw something that provoked him to tell 'em, they were a Company of
Sharpers.
Presently
Tallboy
sell on him, and being too hard at Fifty-cuffs, drove him out of Doors. The valiant
Pert
followed, and kicked him in his Turn; which the 'Squire resented, as being nearer his Match; so challenged him: But differing about Time and Place, Friends interposed, (for he had still Money left) and perswaded him to ask Pardon for provoking 'em to beat him, and they asked his for doing it. The House consulting whence
Humphry
could have his Information, concluded it must be from some malicious Commoner; and to be revenged, Beau
Bogg
watch'd their Haunts, and in a Shop where some of them were at Play with Ladies, shewed Dice which he found, or pretended to find, upon them; and declaring how false they were, warn'd the Company to take Care who they play'd with. By his seeming Candour, he cleared his Reputation at least to Fools, and some silly Women: but it was still blasted by the 'Squire's Story with thinking Men: However, he gain'd a great Point by it; for the next Day he got the Company shut up with himself and Fellow-Members, and robbed 'em at Discretion.
I cannot express to you with what Indignation I behold the noble Spirit of Gentlemen degenerated to that of private Cut-Purses. 'Tis in vain to hope a Remedy, while so many of the Fraternity get and enjoy Estates of Twenty, Thirty, and Fifty thousand Pounds with Impunity, creep into the best Conversations, and spread the infectious Villany through the Nation, while the lesser Rogues, that rob for Hunger or Nakedness, are sacrificed by the Blind, and in this Respect, partial and defective Law. Could you open Mens Eyes against the Occasion of all this, the great Corrupter of our Manners and Morality, the Author of more Bankrupts than the War, and sure Bane of all Industry, Frugality, and good Nature; in a Word, of all Virtues; I mean, publick or private Play at Cards or Dice; How willingly would I contribute my utmost, and possibly send you some Memoirs of the Lives and Politicks of some of the Fraternity of great Figure, that might be of Use to you in setting this in a clear Light against next Session, that all who care for their Country or Posterity, and see the pernicious Effects of such a publick Vice, may endeavour its Destruction by some effectual Laws. In Concurrence to this good Design, I remain,
Your Humble Servant,
&c.
Bath,
Aug. 30.
Friday, Sept. 2.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
I Heartily join with you in your laudable Design against the
Mirmidons,
as well as your late In inuations against
Coxcombs of Fire;
and I take this Opportunity to congratulate you on the Success of your Labours, which I observed Yesterday in one of the hottest
Fire-men
in Town; who not only affects a soft Smile, but was seen to be Thrice contradicted, without shewing any Sign of Impatience. These, I say, so happy Beginnings promise fair, and on this Account I rejoice you have undertaken to unkennel the Curs; a Work of such Use, that I admire it so long escaped your Vigilance; and exhort you, by the Concern you have for the good People of
England,
to pursue your Design; and that these Vermin may not flatter themselves that they pass undiscovered, I desire you'd acquaint
Jack Haughty,
that the whole Secret of his bubbling his Friend with the
Swiss
at the
Thatch'd-House
is well known, as also his sweetning the Knight, and I shall acknowledge the Favour.
Your most humble Servant,
&c.
The TATLER. [No 66.
From
Thursd. Sept.
8. to
Saturd. Sept.
10. 1709.
Will's Coffee-house,
September 9.
THE Subject of the Discourse this Evening was Eloquence and graceful Action.
Lysander,
who is something particular in his Way of Thinking and Speaking, told us, a Man could not be Eloquent without Action: For the Deportment of the Body, the Turn of the Eye, and an apt Sound to every Word that is utter'd, must all conspire to make an accomplish'd Speaker. Action in one that speaks in publick, is the same Thing as a good Mien in ordinary Life. Thus, as a certain Insensibility in the Countenance recommends a Sentence of Humour and Jest, so it must be a very lively Consciousness that gives Grace to great Sentiments. The Jest is to be a Thing unexpected; therefore your undesigning Manner is a Beauty in Expressions of Mirth; but when you are to talk on a Set Subject, the more you are moved your self, the more you will move others.
There is, said he, a remarkable Example of that Kind.
Aeschines,
a famous Orator of Antiquity, had pleaded at
Athens
in a great Cause against
Demosthenes;
but having lost it, retired to
Rhodes.
Eloquence was then the Quality most admired among Men; and the Magistrates of that Place having heard he had a Copy of the Speech of
Demosthenes,
desired him to repeat both their Pleadings. After his own, he recited also the Oration of his Antagonist. The People expressed their Admiration of both, but more of that of
Demosthenes.
If you are, said he, thus touched with hearing only what that great Orator said, How would you have been affected, had you seen him speak? For he who hears
Demosthenes
only, loses much the better Part of the Oration. Certain it is, that they who speak gracefully, are very lamely represented in having their Speeches read or repeated by unskilful People; for there is something native to each Man, so inherent to his Thoughts and Sentiments, which it is hardly possible for another to give a true Idea of. You may observe in common Talk, when a Sentence of any Mans is repeated, an Acquaintance of his shall immediately observe,
That is so like him, methinks I see how he look'd when he said it.
But of all the People on the Earth, there are none who puzzle me so much as the Clergy of
Great Britain,
who are, I believe, the most learned Body of Men now in the World; and yet this Art of Speaking, with the proper Ornaments of Voice and Gesture, is wholly neglected among them; and I'll engage, were a deaf Man to behold the greater Part of them preach, he would rather think they were reading the Contents only of some Discourse they intended to make, than actually in the Body of an Oration, even when they are upon Matters of such a Nature as one would believe it were impossible to think of without Emotion.
I own there are Exceptions to this general Observation, and that the Dean we heard the other Day together, is an Orator. He has so much Regard to his Congregation, that he commits to his Memory what he is to say to them; and has so soft and graceful a Behaviour, that it must attract your Attention. His Person it is to be confessed is no small Recommendation; but he is to be highly commended for not losing that Advantage, and adding to the Propriety of Speech (which might pass the Criticism of
Longinus
) an Action which would have been approved by
Demosthenes.
He has a peculiar Force in his Way, and has many of his Audience who could not be intelligent Hearers of his Discourse, were there not Explanation as well as Grace in his Action. This Art of his is used with the most exact and honest Skill: He never attempts your Passions, 'till he has convinced your Reason. All the Objections which he can form, are laid open and dispersed, before he uses the least Vehemence in his Sermon; but when he thinks he has your Head, he very soon wins your Heart; and never pretends to show the Beauty of Holiness, 'till he hath convinced you of the Truth of it.
Would every one of our Clergymen be thus careful to recommend Truth and Virtue in their proper Figures, and show so much Concern for them as to give them all the additional Force they were able, it is not possible that Nonsence should have so many Hearers as you find it has in Dissenting Congregations, for no Reason in the World but because it is spoken
Extempore:
For ordinary Minds are wholly governed by their Eyes and Ears, and there is no Way to come at their Hearts but by Power over their Imaginations.
There is my Friend and merry Companion
Daniel:
He knows a great deal better than he speaks, and can form a proper Discourse as well as any Orthodox Neighbour. But he knows very well, that to bawl out, My Beloved; and the Words, Grace! Regeneration! Sanctification! A New Light! The Day! The Day! Ay, my Beloved, the Day! Or rather, The Night! The Night is coming! And Judgment will come, when we least think of it! And so forth—He knows, to be vehement is the only Way to come at his Audience.
Daniel,
when he sees my Friend
Greenhat
come in, can give him a good Hint, and cry out, This is only for the Saints! The Regenerated! By this Force of Action, though mixed with all the Incoherence and Ribaldry imaginable,
Daniel
can laugh at his Diocesan, and grow fat by voluntary Subscription, while the Parson of the Parish goes to Law for half his Dues.
Daniel
will tell you, It is not the Shepherd, but the Sheep with the Bell, which the Flock follows.
Another Thing, very wonderful this learned Body should omit, is, Learning to read; which is a most necessary Part of Eloquence in one who is to serve at the Altar: For there is no Man but must be sensible, that the lazy Tone, and inarticulate Sound of our common Readers depreciates the most proper Form of Words that were ever extant in any Nation or Language, to speak our own Wants, or his Power from whom we ask Relief.
There cannot be a greater Instance of the Power of Action than in little Parson
Dapper,
who is the common Relief to all the lazy Pulpits in Town. This smart Youth has a very good Memory, a quick Eye, and a clean Handkerchief. Thus equipped, he opens his Text, shuts his Book fairly, shows he has no Notes in his Bible, opens both Palms, and shows all is fair there too. Thus, with a decisive Air, my young Man goes on without Hesitation; and though from the Beginning to the End of his pretty Discourse, he has not used one proper Gesture, yet at the Conclusion, the Church-warden pulls his Gloves from off his Head;
Pray, who is this extraordinary young Man?
Thus the Force of Action is such, that it is more prevalent, even when improper, than all the Reason and Argument in the World without it. This Gentleman concluded his Discourse by saying, I do not doubt, but if our Preachers would learn to speak, and our Readers to read, within Six Months Time we should not have a Dissenter within a Mile of a Church in
Great Britain.
From my own Apartment,
Sept. 9.
I have a Letter from a young Fellow who complains to me, that he was bred a Mercer, and is now just out of his Time, but unfortunately (for he has no Manner of Education suitable to his present Estate) an Uncle has left him 1000
l. per Annum.
The young Man is sensible that he is so spruce, that he fears he shall never be genteel as long as he lives, but applies himself to me, to know what Method to take to help his Air, and be a Fine Gentleman.
He says,
'That several of those Ladies who were formerly his Customers, visit his Mother on Purpose to fall in his Way, and fears he shall be obliged to marry against his Will; for (says he) if any one of them should ask me, I shall not be able to deny her. I am (says he further) utterly at a Loss how to deal with them; for though I was the most pert Creature in the World when I was Foreman, and could hand a Woman of the First Quality to her Coach as well as her own Gentleman Usher, I am now quite out of my Way, and speechless in their Company. They commend my Modesty to my Face. No one scruples to say, I should certainly make the best Husband in the World, a Man of my sober Education.—Mrs.
Wou'd-be
watches all Opportunities to be alone with me: Therefore, good Mr.
Bickerstaff,
here are my Writings enclosed; if you can find any Flaw in my Title, so as it may go to the next Heir, who goes to St.
James
's Coffee-house, and
White
's, and could enjoy it, I should be extremely well pleased with Two Thousand Pounds to set up my Trade, and live in a Way I know I should become, rather than be laugh'd at all my Life among too good Company. If you could send for my Cousin, and perswade him to take the Estate on these Terms, and let no Body know it, you would extremely oblige me.'
Upon first Sight, I thought this a very whimsical Proposal; however, upon more mature Consideration, I could not but admire the young Gentleman's Prudence and good Sense: For there is nothing so irksome, as living in a Way a Man knows he does not become. I consulted Mr.
Obadiah Greenhat
on this Occasion, and he is so well pleased with the Man, that he has half a Mind to take the Estate himself; but upon second Thoughts he proposed this Expedition. I should be very willing (said he) to keep the Estate where it is, if we could make the young Man any Way easy; therefore I humbly propose, he should take to Drinking for one Half-Year, and make a Sloven of him, and from thence begin his Education anew: For it is a Maxim, That one who is ill taught, is in a worse Condition than he who is wholly ignorant; therefore a spruce Mercer is farther off the Air of a Fine Gentleman, than a downright Clown. To make our Patient any Thing better, we must unmake him what he is. I indeed proposed to flux him; but
Greenhat
answer'd, That if he recovered, he'd be as prim and feat as ever he was: Therefore he would have it his Way; and our Friend is to drink till he is carbuncled, and Tun-bellied; after which we will send him down to smoke, and be buried with his Ancestors in
Derbyshire.
I am indeed desirous he should have his Life in the Estate, because he has such a just Sense of himself and his Abilities, to know that it is an Unhappiness to him to be a Man of Fortune.
This Youth seems to understand, that a Gentleman's Life is that of all others the hardest to pass through with Propriety of Behaviour; for though he has a Support without Art or Labour, yet his Manner of enjoying that Circumstance is a Thing to be considered; and you see among Men who are honoured with the common Appellation of Gentlemen, so many Contradictions to that Character, that it is the utmost ill Fortune to bear it: For which Reason I am oblig'd to change the Circumstances of several about this Town.
Harry Lacker
is so very exact in his Dress, that I shall give his Estate to his younger Brother, and make him a Dancing Master.
Nokes Lightfoot
is so nimble, and values himself so much upon it, that I have Thoughts of making him Huntsman to a Pack of Beagles, and give his Land to some Body that will stay upon it.
Now I am upon the Topick of becoming what we enjoy, I forbid all Persons who are not of the first Quality, or who do not bear some important Office that requires so much Distinction, to go to
Hide-Park
with Six Horses; for I cannot but esteem it the highest Insolence: Therefore hereafter no Man shall do it meerly because he is able, without any other Pretension. But what may serve all Purposes quite as well, it shall be allowed all such who think Riches the chief Distinction, to appear in the Ring with Two Horses only, and a Rent-Roll hanging out of each Side of their Coach. This is a Thought of Mr.
Greenhat
's, who designs very soon to publish a sumptuary Discourse upon the Subject of Equipage, wherein he will give us Rules on that Subject, and assign the proper Duties and Qualifications of Masters and Servants, as well as that of Husbands and Wives; with a Treatise of Oeconomy without Doors, or the compleat Art of appearing in the World. This will be very useful to all who are suddenly rich, or are ashamed of being poor.
— Sunt certa Piacula, quae te
Ter pure lecto poterunt recreare Libello.
I have Notice of a new Pack of Dogs, of quite another Sort than hitherto mention'd. I have not an exact Account of their Way of Hunting, the following Letter giving only a bare Notice of them.
September 7.
SIR,
THere are another Pack of Dogs to be disposed of, who kennel about
Charing-Cross,
at the old Fat Dog's at the Corner of
Buckingham-Court,
near
Spring-Garden:
Two of them are said to be whelped in
Alsatia,
now in Ruins; but they, with the rest of the Pack, are as pernicious, as if the old Kennel had never been broken down. The Ancients distinguished this Sort of Curs by the Name of
Haeredipetes,
the most pernicious of all Biters, for seizing young Heirs, especially when their Estates are entailed, whom they reduce by one good Bite to such a Condition, that they cannot ever after come to the Use of their Teeth, or get smelling of a Crust. You are desired to dispose of these as soon as you can, that the Breed may not encrease; and your Care in tying them up, will be acknowledged by,
SIR,
Your Humble Servant,
Philanthropos.
St. James's Coffee-house,
Sept. 9.
We have received Letters from the Duke of
Marlborough
's Camp, which brings us further Particulars of the great and glorious Victory obtain'd over the Enemy on the 11th Instant,
N. S.
The Number of the Wounded and Prisoners is much greater than was expected from our first Account. The Day was doubtful till after Twelve of the Clock; but the Enemy made little Resistance after their first Line on the Left began to give Way. An exact Narration of the whole Affair is expected next Post. The
French
have had Two Days allowed them to bury their Dead, and carry off their wounded Men upon Parole. Those Regiments of
Great Britain
which suffer'd most, are order'd into Garrison, and fresh Troops commanded to march into the Field. The States have also directed Troops to march out of the Towns, to relieve those who lost so many Men in attacking the Second Intrenchment of the
French
in the Plain between
Sart
and
Jansart.
The TATLER. [No 67.
From
Saturd. Sept.
10. to
Tuesd. Sept.
13. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Sept. 12.
NO Man can conceive, till he comes to try it, how great a Pain it is to be a Publickspirited Person. I am sure I am unable to express to the World, what great Anxiety I have suffered, to see of how little Benefit my Lucubrations have been to my Fellow-Subjects. Men will go on in their own Way in Spight of all my Labour. I gave Mr.
Didapper
a private Reprimand for wearing red-heel'd Shoes, and at the same Time was so indulgent as to connive at him for Fourteen Days, because I would give him the wearing of them out; but after all this I am informed, he appeared Yesterday with a new Pain of the same Sort. I have no better Success with Mr.
Whatde'call,
as to his Buttons:
Stentor
still roars; and Box and Dice rattle as loud as they did before I writ against them.
Partridge
walks about at Noon-day, and
Aesculapius
thinks of adding a new Lace to his Lively. However I must still go on in laying these Enormities before Men's Eyes, and let them answer for going on in their Practice.
My Province is much larger than at first Sight Men would imagine, and I shall lose no Part of my Jurisdiction, which extends not only to Futurity, but also is retrospect to Things past; and the Behaviour of Persons who have long ago acted their Parts, is as much liable to my Examination, as that of my own Contemporaries.
In order to put the whole Race of Mankind in their proper Distinctions, according to the Opinion their Cohabitants conceived of them, I have with very much Care, and Depth of Meditation, thought fit to erect a Chamber of Fame, and established certain Rules, which are to be observed in admitting Members into this illustrious Society.
In this Chamber of Fame there are to be Three Tables, but of different Lengths; the First is to contain exactly Twelve Persons; the Second, Twenty; the Third, an Hundred. This is reckoned to be the full Number of those who have any competent Share of Fame. At the First of these Tables are to be placed in their Order the Twelve most famous Persons in the World, not with Regard to the Things they are famous for, but according to the Degree of their Fame, whether in Valour, Wit, or Learning. Thus, if a Scholar be more famous than a Soldier, he is to sit above him. Neither must any Preference be given to Virtue, if the Person be not equally famous.
When the First Table is filled, the next in Renown must be seated at the Second, and so on in like Manner to the Number of Twenty; as also in the same Order at the Third, which is to hold an Hundred. At these Tables, no Regard is to be had to Seniority: For if
Julius Caesar
shall be judged more famous than
Romulus
and
Scipio,
he must have the Precedence. No Person who has not been dead an Hundred Years, must be offered to a Place at any of these Tables: And because this is altogether a Lay-Society, and that sacred Persons move upon greater Motives than that of Fame, no Persons celebrated in holy Writ, or any Ecclesiastical Men whatsoever, are to be introduced here.
At the lower End of the Room is to be a Side-Table for Persons of great Fame, but dubious Existence, such as
Hercules, Theseus, Aeneas, Achilles, Hector,
and others. But because it is apprehended, that there may be great Contention about Precedence, the Proposer humbly desires the Opinion of the Learned towards his Assistance in placing every Person according to his Rank, that none may have just Occasion of Offence.
The Merits of the Cause shall be judged by Plurality of Voices.
For the more impartial Execution of this important Affair, it is desired, That no Man will offer his Favourite Hero, Scholar, or Poet; and that the Learned will be pleased to send to Mr.
Bickerstaff,
at Mr.
Morphew
's near
Stationers-Hall,
their several Lists for the First Table only, and in the Order they would have them placed; after which the Composer will compare the several Lists, and make another for the Publick, wherein every Name shall be ranked according to the Voices it has had. Under this Chamber is to be a dark Vault for the same Number of Persons of evil Fame.
It is humbly submitted to Consideration, Whether the Project would not be better, if the Persons of true Fame meet in a middle Room, those of dubious Existence in an upper Room, and those of evil Fame in a lower dark Room.
It is to be noted, That no Historians are to be admitted at any of these Tables, because they are appointed to conduct the several Persons to their Seats, and are to be made Use of as Ushers to the Assemblies.
I call upon the learned World to send me their Assistance towards this Design, it being a Matter of too great Moment for any one Person to determine. But I do assure them, their Lists shall be examined with great Fidelity, and those that are exposed to the Publick, made with all the Caution imaginable.
In the mean Time, while I wait for these Lists, I am employ'd in keeping People in a right Way, to avoid the contrary to Fame and Applause, to wit, Blame and Derision. For this End, I work upon that useful Project of the Penny-Post, by the Benefit of which it is proposed, that a Charitable Society be established: From which Society there shall go every Day Circular Letters to all Parts within the Bills of Mortality, to tell People of their Faults in a friendly and private Manner, whereby you may know what the World thinks of them, before it is declared to the World that they are thus faulty. This Method cannot fail of universal good Consequences: For it is further added, that they who will not be reformed by it, must be contented to see the several Letters printed, which were not regarded by them, that when they will not take private Reprehension, they may be tried further by a publick one. I am very sorry I am obliged to print the following Epistles of that Kind to some Persons, and the more, because they are of the Fair Sex. This went on
Friday
last to a very fine Lady.
MADAM,
I Am highly sensible, that there is nothing of so tender a Nature as the Reputation and Conduct of Ladies; and that when there is the least Stain got into their Fame, it is hardly ever to be washed out. When I have said this, you will believe I am extremely concerned, to hear at every Visit I make, that your Manner of wearing your Hair is a meer Affectation of Beauty; as well as, that your Neglect of Powder has been a common Evil to your Sex. It is to you an Advantage to show that Abundance of fine Tresses: But I beseech you to consider, that the Force of your Beauty, and the Imitation of you, costs
Elconora
great Sums of Money to her Tire-Woman for false Locks, besides what is allowed to her Maid for keeping the Secret, that she is grey. I must take Leave to add to this Admonition, that you are not to reign above Four Months and odd Days longer. Therefore I must desire you to raise and friz your Hair a little, for it is downright Insolence to be thus handsome without Art; and you'll forgive me for intreating you to do now out of Compassion, what you must soon do out of Necessity. I am,
Madam,
Your most Obedient, and Most Humble Servant.
This Person dresses just as she did before I writ: As does also the Lady to whom I addressed the following Billet the same Day:
MADAM,
LET me beg of you to take off the Patches at the lower End of your Left Cheek, and I will allow Two more under your Left Eye, which will contribute more to the Symmetry of your Face; except you would please to remove the Ten Black Atoms on your Ladyships Chin, and wear one large Patch instead of them. If so, you may properly enough retain the Three Patches above-mentioned. I am,
&c.
This, I thought, had all the Civility and Reason in the World in it; but whether my Letters are intercepted, or whatever it is, the Lady patches as she used to do. It is to be observed by all the charitable Society, as an Instruction in their Epistles, that they tell People of nothing but what is in their Power to mend. I shall give another Instance of this Way of Writing: Two Sisters in
Essex-street
are eternally gaping out of the Window, as if they knew not the Value of Time, or would call in Companions. Upon which I writ the following Line:
Dear Creatures,
On the Receipt of this, shut your Casements.
But I went by Yesterday, and found them still at the Window. What can a Man do in this Case? but go on; and wrap himself up in his own Integrity, with Satisfaction only in his melancholy Truth, that Virtue is its own Reward; and that if no one is the better for his Admonitions, yet he is himself the more virtuous in that he gave those Advices.
St. James's Coffee-house,
Sept. 12.
Letters of the 13th Instant from the Duke of
Marlborough
's Camp at
Havre
advise, That the necessary Dispositions were made for opening the Trenches before
Mons.
The Direction of the Siege is to be committed to the Prince of
Orange,
who designed to take his Post accordingly with 30 Battalions and 30 Squadrons on the Day following. On the 17th, Lieutenant-General
Cadogan
set out for
Brussels,
to hasten the Ammunition and Artillery which is to be employed in this Enterprize; and the Confederate Army was extended from the
Haisne
to the
Trouille,
in order to cover the Siege. The Loss of the Confederates in the late Battle is not exactly known; but it appears by a List transmitted to the States-General, that the Number of the Killed and Wounded in their Service amounts to above Eight thousand. It is computed, that the
English
have lost 1500 Men, and the rest of the Allies about Five thousand, including the Wounded. The States-General have taken the most speedy and effectual Measures for reinforcing their Troops; and 'tis expected, that in Eight or Ten Days the Army will be as numerous as before the Battle. The Affairs in
Italy
afford us nothing remarkable; only that it is hoped, the Difference between the Courts of
Vienna
and
Turin
will be speedily accommodated. Letters from
Poland
present us with a near Prospect of seeing King
Augustus
reestablished on the Throne, all Parties being very industrious to reconcile themselves to his Interests.
Will's Coffee-house,
September 12.
Of all the pretty Arts in which our modern Writers excel, there is not any which is more to be recommended to the Imitation of Beginners, than the Skill of Transition from one Subject to another. I know not whether I make my self well understood; but it is certain, that the Way of stringing a Discourse, used in the
Mercury Gallant,
the
Gentleman
's
Journal,
and other learned Writings, not to mention how naturally Things present themselves to such as harangue in Pulpits, and other Occasions which occur to the Learned, are Methods worthy Commendation. I shall attempt this Style my self in a few Lines. Suppose I were discoursing upon the King of
Sweden
's passing the
Boristhenes.
The
Boristhenes
is a great River, and puts me in Mind of the
Danube
and the
Rhine.
The
Danube
I cannot think of without reflecting on that unhappy Prince who had such fair Territories on the Banks of it; I mean the Duke of
Bavaria,
who by our last Letters is retired from
Mons. Mons
is as strong a Fortification as any which has no Citadel: And Places which are not compleatly fortified, are, methinks, Lessons to Princes, that they are not Omnipotent, but liable to the Strokes of Fortune. But as all Princes are subject to such Calamities, it is the Part of Men of Letters to guard them from the Observations of all small Writers: For which Reason I shall conclude my present Remarks, by publishing the following Advertisement, to be taken Notice of by all who dwell in the Suburbs of Learning.
Whereas the King of
Sweden
has been so unfortunate to receive a Wound in his Heel; we do hereby prohibit all Epigrammatists in either Language, and both Universities, as well as all other Poets, of what Denomination soever, to make any Mention of
Achilles
having received his Death's Wound in the same Part.
We do likewise forbid all Comparisons in Coffee-houses between
Alexander the Great
and the said King of
Sweden,
and from making any Parallels between the Death of
Patkul
and
Philotas;
we being very apprehensive of the Reflections that several Politicians have ready by them to produce on this Occasion, and being willing, as much as in us lies, to free the Town from all Impertinencies of this Nature.
The TATLER. [No 68.
From
Tuesd. Sept.
13. to
Thursd. Sept.
15. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Sept. 14.
THE Progress of our Endeavours will of Necessity be very much interrupted, except the learned World will please to send their Lists to the Chamber of Fame with all Expedition. There is nothing can so much contribute to create a noble Emulation in our Youth, as the honourable Mention of such whose Actions have outlived the Injuries of Time, and recommended themselves so far to the World, that it is become Learning to know the least Circumstance of their Affairs. It is a great Incentive to see, that some Men have raised themselves so highly above their Fellow Creatures; that the Lives of ordinary Men are spent in Inquiries after the particular Actions of the most Illustrious. True it is, that without this Impulse to Fame and Reputation, our Industry would stagnate, and that lively Desire of pleasing each other die away. This Opinion was so establish'd in the Heathen World, that their Sense of Living appeared insipid, except their Being was enlivened with a Consciousness, that they were esteemed by the rest of the World.
Upon examining the Proportion of Men's Fame for my Table of Twelve, I thought it no ill Way, since I had laid it down for a Rule, That they were to be ranked simply as they were famous, without Regard to their Virtue, to ask my Sister
Jenny
's Advice, and particularly mentioned to her the Name of
Aristotle.
She immediately told me, he was a very great Scholar, and that she had read him at the Boarding-School. She certainly means a Trifle sold by the Hawkers, called
Aristotle
's
Problems.
But this raised a great Scruple in me, Whether a Fame increased by Imposition of others is to be added to his Account, or that these Excrescencies, which grow out of his real Reputation, and give Encouragement to others to pass Things under the Covert of his Name, should be considered in giving him his Seat in the Chamber? This Punctilio is referred to the Learned. In the mean Time, so ill-natured are Mankind, that I believe I have Names already sent me sufficient to fill up my Lists for the dark Room, and every one is apt enough to send in their Accounts of ill Defervers. This Malevolence does not proceed from a real Dislike of Virtue, but a diabolical Prejudice against it, which makes Men willing to destroy what they care not to imitate. Thus you see the greatest Characters among your Acquaintance, and those you live with, are traduced by all below them in Virtue, who never mention them but with an Exception. However, I believe I shall not give the World much Trouble about filling my Tables for those of evil Fame, for I have some Thoughts of clapping up the
Sharpers
there as fast as I can lay hold of them.
At present, I am employed in looking over the several Notices which I have received of their Manner of Dexterity, and the Way at Dice of making all Rugg, as the Cant is. The whole Art of securing a Die, has lately been sent me by a Person who was of the Fraternity, but is disabled by the Loss of a Finger, by which Means he cannot practise that Trick as he used to do. But I am very much at a Loss how to call some of the Fair Sex, who are Accomplices with the
Knights of Industry;
for my Metaphorical Dogs are easily enough understood; but the Feminine Gender of Dogs has so harsh a Sound, that we know not how to name it. But I am credibly informed, that there are Female Dogs as voracious as the Males, and make Advances to young Fellows, without any other Design but coming to a Familiarity with their Purses. I have also long Lists of Persons of Condition, who are certainly of the same Regimen with these
Banditti,
and instrumental to their Cheats upon undiscerning Men of their own Rank. These add their good Reputation to carry on the Impostures of others, whose very Names would else be Defence enough against falling into their Hands. But for the Honour of our Nation, these shall be unmention'd, provided we hear no more of such Practices, and that they shall not from henceforward suffer the Society of such, as they know to be the common Enemies of Order, Discipline, and Virtue. If it appear that they go on in encouraging them, they must be proceeded against according to severest Rules of History, where all is to be laid before the World with Impartiality, and without Respect to Persons.
So let the stricken Deer go weep.
Will's Coffee-house,
Sept. 14.
I find left here for me the following Epistle:
SIR.
HAving lately read your Discourse about the Family of
Trubies,
wherein you observe, that there are some who fall into Laughter out of a certain Benevolence in their Temper, and not out of the ordinary Motive,
viz.
Contempt and Triumph over the Imperfections of others; I have conceived a good Idea of your Knowledge of Mankind. And as you have a Tragi-comick Genius, I beg the Favour of you to give us your Thoughts of a quite different Effect, which also is caused by other Motives than what are commonly taken Notice of. What I would have you treat of, is, the Cause of shedding Tears. I desire you would discuss it a little, with Observations upon the various Occasions which provoke us to that Expression of our Concern,
&c.
To obey this complaisant Gentleman, I know no Way so short as examining the various Touches of my own Bosom, on several Occurrences in a long Life, in the Evening of which I am arrived, after as many various Incidents as any Body has met with. I have often reflected, that the e is a great Similitude in the Motions of the Heart in Mirth and in Sorrow; and I think the usual Occasion of the latter, as well as the former, is something which is sudden and unexpected. The Mind has not a sufficient Time to recollect its Force, and immediately gushes into Tears before we can utter our selves by Speech or Complaint. The most notorious Causes of these Drops from our Eyes, are Pity, Sorrow, Joy, and Reconciliation.
The Fair Sex, who are made of Man and not of Earth, have a more delicate Humanity than we have, and Pity is the most common Cause of their Tears: For as we are inwardly composed of an Aptitude to every Circumstance of Life, and every Thing that befalls any one Person, might have happened to any other of humane Race; Self-love, and a Sense of the Pain we our selves should suffer in the Circumstances of any whom we pity, is the Cause of that Compassion. Such a Reflection in the Breast of a Woman, immediately inclines her to Tears; but in a Man, it makes him think how such a one ought to act on that Occasion, suitably to the Dignity of his Nature. Thus a Woman is ever moved for those whom she hears lament, and a Man for those whom he observes to suffer in Silence. It is a Man's own Behaviour in the Circumstances he is under which procures him the Esteem of others, and not meerly the Affliction it self which demands our Pity: For we never give a Man that Passion which he falls into for himself. He that commends himself, never purchases our Applause; nor he who bewails himself, our Pity.
Going through an Alley the other Day, I observed a noisy impudent Beggar bawl out, That he was wounded in a Merchant-man; That he had lost his poor Limbs, and showed a Leg clouted up. All that passed by, made what haste they could out of his Sight and Hearing; but a Poor Fellow at the End of the Passage, with a rusty Coat, a melancholy Air, and a soft Voice, desired them to look upon a Man not used to beg. The latter received the Charity of almost every one that went by. The Strings of the Heart, which are to be touched to give us Compassion, are not so played on but by the finest Hand. We see in Tragical Representations, it is not the Pomp of Language, or Magnificence of Dress, in which the Passion is wrought that touches sensible Spirits, but something of a plain and simple Nature which breaks in upon our Souls, by that Sympathy which is given us for our mutual Good-will and Service.
In the Tragedy of
Mackbeth,
where
Wilks
acts the Part of a Man whose Family has been murdered in his Absence, the Wildness of his Passion, which is run over in a Torrent of calamitous Circumstances, does but raise my Spirits, and give me the Alarm; but when he skilfully seems to be out of Breath, and is brought too low to say more; and upon a second Reflection, cry, only wiping his Eyes,
What both Children! Both, both my Children gone!
—There is no resisting a Sorrow which seems to have cast about for all the Reasons possible for its Consolation, but has no Recourse.
There is not one left, but both, both are murdered!
Such sudden Starts from the Thread of the Discourse, and a plain Sentiment expressed in an artless Way, are the irresistible Strokes of Eloquence and Poetry. The same great Master,
Shakespear,
can afford us Instances of all the Places where our Souls are accessible, and ever commands our Tears: But it is to be observed, that he draws them from some unexpected Source, which seems not wholly of a Piece with the Discourse. Thus, when
Brutus
and
Cassius
had a Debate in the Tragedy of
Caesar,
and rose to warm Language against each other, insomuch that it had almost come to something that might be fatal, till they recollected themselves;
Brutus
does more than make an Apology for the Heat he had been in, by saying,
Porcia is dead
—Here
Cassius
is all Tenderness, and ready to dissolve, when he considers, that the Mind of his Friend had been employed on the greatest Affliction imaginable, when he had been adding to it by a Debate on Trifles; which makes him in the Anguish of his Heart cry out,
How scaped I killing, when I thus provoked you?
This is an Incident which moves the Soul in all its Sentiments; and
Cassius
's Heart was at once touched with all the soft Pangs of Pity, Remorse, and Reconciliation. It is said indeed by
Horace, If you would have me weep, you must first weep your self.
This is not literally true, for it would have been as rightly said, if we observe Nature, That I shall certainly weep, if you do not: But what is intended by that Expression, is, That it is not possible to give Passion, except you show that you suffer your self. Therefore the true Art seems to be, that when you would have the Person you represent pitied, you must show him at once, in the highest Grief and Struggling, to bear it with Decency and Patience. In this Case, we sigh for him, and give him every Groan he suppresses.
I remember, when I was young enough to follow the Sports of the Field, I have more than once rode off at the Death of a Deer, when I have seen the Animal in an Affliction which appeared humane without the least Noise, let fall Tears when he was reduced to Extremity; and I have thought of the Sorrow I saw him in when his Haunch came to the Table. But our Tears are not given only to Objects of Pity, but the Mind has Recourse to that Relief in all Occasions which give us much Emotion. Thus to be apt to shed Tears, is a Sign of a great as well as little Spirit. I have heard say, the present Pope never passes through the People, who always kneel in Crowds and ask his Benediction, but the Tears are seen to flow from his Eyes. This must proceed from an Imagination, that he is the Father of all those People, and that he is touched with so extensive a Benevolence, that it breaks out into a Passion of Tears. You see Friends, who have been long absent, transported in the same Manner: A Thousand little Images crowd upon them at their Meeting, as all the Joys and Griefs they have known during their Separation; and in one Hurry of Thought, they conceive how they should have participated in those Occasions; and weep, because their Minds are too full to wait the slow Expression of Words.
His Lacrymis Vitam damus, & miscrescimus ultro.
There is lately broke loose from the
London
Pack, a very tall dangerous Biter. He is now at the
Bath,
and it is feared will make a damnable Havock amongst the Game. His Manner of Biting is new, and he is called the
Top.
He secures one Die betwixt his Two Fingers: The other is fixed, by the Help of a famous Wax invented by an Apothecary, since a Gamester; a little of which he puts upon his Fore-finger, and that holds the Die in the Box at his Devotion. Great Sums have been lately won by these Ways; but 'tis hoped, that this Hint of his Manner of Cheating will open the Eyes of many who are every Day imposed upon.
There is now in the Press, and will be suddenly publish'd, a Book entituled,
An Appendix to the Contempt of the Clergy.
wherein will be set forth at large, That all our Dissentions are owing to the Laziness of Persons in the sacred Ministry, and that none of the present Schisms could have crept into the Flock, but by the Negligence of the Pastors. There is a Digression in this Treatise, proving, That the Pretences made by the Priesthood from Time to Time, that the Church was in Danger, is only a Trick to make the Laity passionate for that of which they themselves have been negligent. The whole concludes with an Exhortation to the Clergy, to the Study of Eloquence, and Practice of Piety, as the only Method to support the highest of all Honours, that of a Priest, who lives and acts according to his Character.
The TATLER. [No 69.
— Quid oportet
Nos facere, a vulgo longe latèque remotos?
From
Thursd. Sept.
15. to
Saturd. Sept.
17. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
September 16.
IT is, as far as it relates to our present Being, the great End of Education to raise our selves above the Vulgar; but what is intended by the Vulgar, is not, methinks, enough understood. In me, indeed, that Word raises a quite different Idea from what it usually does in others; but perhaps that proceeds from my being old, and beginning to want the Relish of such Satisfactions as are the ordinary Entertainment of Men. However such as my Opinion is in this Case, I will speak it; because it is possible that Turn of Thought may be received by others, who may reap as much Satisfaction from it as I do my self.
It is to me a very great Meanness, and something much below a Philosopher, which is what I mean by a Gentleman, to rank a Man among the Vulgar for the Condition of Life he is in, and not according to his Behaviour, his Thoughts and Sentiments, in that Condition. For if a Man be loaded with Riches and Honours, and in that State of Life has Thoughts and Inclinations below the meanest Artificer; is not such an Artificer, who within his Power is good to his Friends, moderate in his Demands for his Labour, and chearful in his Occupation, very much superior to him who lives for no other End but to serve himself, and assumes a Preference in all his Words and Actions to those, who act their Part with much more Grace than himself?
Epictetus
has made use of the Similitude of a Stage-Play to humane Life with much Spirit. It is not, says he, to be considered among the Actors, who is Prince, or who is Beggar, but who acts Prince or Beggar best. The Circumstance of Life should not be that which gives us Place, but our Behaviour in that Circumstance is what should be our solid Distinction. Thus, a wise Man should think no Man above him or below him, any further than it regards the outward Order and Discipline of the World: For if we take too great an Idea of the Eminence of our Superiors, or Subordination of our Inferiors, it will have an ill Effect up on our Behaviour to both. He who thinks no Man above him but for his Virtue, none below him but for his Vice, can never be obsequious or assuming in a wrong Place, but will frequently emulate Men in Rank below him, and pity those above him.
This Sense of Mankind is so far from a levelling Principle, that it only sets us upon a true Basis of Distinction, and doubles the Merit of such as become their Condition. A Man in Power, who can, without the ordinary Prepossessions which stop the Way to the true knowledge and Service of Mankind, over-look the little Distinctions of Fortune, raise obscure Merit, and discountenance successful Indesert, has, in the Minds of knowing Men, the Figure of an Angel rather than a Man, and is above the rest of Men in the highest Character he can be, even that of their Benefactor.
Turning my Thoughts as I was taking my Pipe this Evening after this Manner, it was no small Delight to me to receive Advice from
Felicia,
That
Eboracensis
was appointed a Governour of one of their Plantations. As I am a great Lover of Mankind, I took Part in the Happiness of that People who were to be governed by one of so great Humanity, Justice, and Honour.
Eboracensis
has read all the Schemes which Writers have formed of Government and Order, and been long conversant with Men who have the Reins in their Hands; so that he can very well distinguish between Chimaerical and Practical Politicks. It is a great Blessing (when Men have to deal with such different Characters in the same Species as those of Free-Men and Slaves) that they who command have a just Sense of humane Nature it self, by which they can temper the Haughtiness of the Master, and soften the Servitude of the Slave.
Hae tibi erunt Artes.
This is the Notion with which those of the Plantation receive
Eboracensis:
And as I have cast his Nativity, I find it will be a Record made of this Person's Administration; and on that Part of the Shore from whence he embarks to return from his Government, there will be a Moument with these Words;
Here the People wept, and took Leave of
Eboracensis,
the first Governour our Mother
Felicia
sent, who, during his Command here, believed himself her Subject.
White's Chocolate-house,
Sept. 16.
The following Letter wants such sudden Dispatch, that all Things else must wait for this Time.
Sept. 13. Equal Day and Night.
SIR,
THere are Two Ladies, who having a good Opinion of your Tast and Judgment, desire you to make Use of them in the following Particular, which perhaps you may allow very extraordinary. The Two Ladies before mention'd, have a considerable Time since contracted a more sincere and constant Friendship than their Adversaries the Men will allow consistent with the Frailty of Female Nature; and being from a long Acquaintance convinced of the perfect Agreement of their Tempers, have thought upon an Expedient to prevent their Separation, and cannot think any so effectual (since 'tis common for Love to destroy Friendship) as to give up both their Liberties to the same Person in Marriage. The Gentleman they have pitch'd upon, is neither well-bred nor agreeable, his Understanding moderate, and his Person never designed to charm Women; but having so much Self-Interest in his Nature, as to be satisfied with making double Contracts, upon Condition of receiving double Fortunes; and most Men being so far sensible of the Uneasiness that one Woman occasions, they think him for these Reasons the most likely Person of their Acquaintance to receive these Proposals. Upon all other Accounts, he is the last Man either of them would chuse, yet for this preferable to all the rest. They desire to know your Opinion the next Post, resolving to defer farther Proceeding, till they have received it. I am,
SIR,
Your Unknown, Unthought-of, Humble Servant,
Bridget Eitherside.
This is very extraordinary, and much might be objected by me, who am something of a Civilian, to the Case of Two marrying the same Man; but these Ladies are, I perceive, Free-Thinkers, and therefore I shall speak only to the prudential Part of this Design, meerly as a Philosopher, without entring into the Merit of it in the Ecclesiastical or Civil Law. These constant Friends,
Piledea
and
Orestea,
are at a Loss to preserve their Friendship from the Encroachments of Love, for which End they have resolved upon a Fellow who cannot be the Object of Affection or Esteem to either, and consequently cannot rob one of the Place each has in her Friend's Heart. But in all my Reading, (and I have read all that the Sages in Love have writ) I have found the greatest Danger in Jealousy. The Ladies indeed, to avoid this Passion, chuse a sad Fellow; but if they would be advised by me, they had better have each their worthless Man; otherwise, he that was despicable while he was indifferent to them, will become valuable when he seems to prefer one to the other.
I remember in the History of Don
Quixot
of the
Manca,
there is a memorable Passage which opens to us the Weakness of our Nature in such Particulars. The Don falls into Discourse with a Gentleman whom he calls the Knight of the
Green-Cassock,
and is invited to his House. When he comes there, he runs into Discourse and Panegyrick upon the Oeconomy, the Government and Order of his Family, the Education of his Children; and lastly, on the singular Wisdom of him who disposed Things with that Exactness. The Gentleman makes a Soliloquy to himself, Oh irresistible Power of Flattery! 'Though I know this is a Mad-man, I cannot help being taken with his Applause. The Ladies will find this much more true in the Case of their Lover; and the Woman be most likes, will certainly be more pleased; she whom he slights, more offended, than she can imagine before she has tried. Now I humbly propose, That they both marry Coxcombs whom they are sure they cannot like, and then they may be pretty secure against the Change of Affection, which they fear; and by that Means, preserving the Temperature under which they now write, enjoy during Life,
Equal Day and Night.
St. James's Coffee-house,
September 16.
There is no Manner of News; but People now spend their Time in Coffee-houses in Reflections upon the Particulars of the late glorious Day, and collecting the several Parts of the Action, as they are produced in Letters from private Hands, or Notice given to us by Accounts in publick Papers. A pleasant Gentleman, alluding to the great Fences through which we pierced, said this Evening. The
French
thought themselves on the right Side of the Hedge, but it proved otherwise. Mr.
Kidney,
who has long conversed with, and filled Tea for the most consummate Politicians, was pleased to give me an Account of this Piece of Ribaldry, and desired me on that Occasion to write a whole Paper on the Subject of Valour, and explain how that Quality, which must be possessed by whole Armies, is so highly preferable in one Man rather than another, and how the same Actions are but meer Acts of Duty in some, and Instances of the most Heroick Virtue in others. He advised me not to fail in this Discourse to mention the Gallantry of the Prince of
Nassau
in this last Engagement, who (when a Battalion made an Halt in the Face of the Enemy) snatched the Colours out of the Hands of the Ensign, and planted them just before the Line of the Enemy, calling to that Battalion to take Care of their Colours, if they had no Regard to him. Mr.
Kidney
has my Promise to obey him in this Particular on the first Occasion that offers.
Mr.
Bickerstaff
is now compiling exact Accounts of the Pay of the Militia; and the Commission-Officers under the respective Lieutenancies of
Great Britain:
In the first Place, of those of
London
and
Westminster;
and in Regard that there are no common Soldiers, but all House-keepers, or Representatives of House keepers in these Bodies, the Sums raised by the Officers shall be looked into, and their Fellow-Soldiers, or rather Fellow-Travellers from one Part of the Town to the other, not defrauded of the Ten Pounds allowed for the Subsistence of the Troops.
Whereas not very long since, at a Tavern between
Fleet-Bridge
and
Charing-Cross,
some certain polite. Gentlemen thought fit to perform the
Bacchanalian
Exercises of Devotion, by dancing without Clothes on, after the Manner of the
Prae-Adamites;
This is to certify those Persons, That there is no Manner of Wit or Humour in the said Practice, and that the Beadles of the Parish are to be at the next Meeting, where it is to be examined, Whether they are arrived at Want of Feeling, as well as Want of Shame?
Whereas a Chappel-Clerk was lately taken in a Garret on a Flock-Bed with Two of the Fair Sex, who are usually employed in sifting Cinders; This is to let him know. That if he persists in being a Scandal both to Laity and Clergy (as being as it were both and neither) the Names of the Nymphs who were with him shall be printed; therefore he is desired, as he tenders the Reputation of his Ladies, to repent.
Mr.
Bickerstaff
has received Information, That an eminent and noble Preacher in the chief Congregation of
Great Britain,
for Fear of being thought guilty of Presbyterian Fervency and Extemporary Prayer, lately read his before Sermon; but the same Advices acknowledging that he made the Congregation large Amends by the Shortness of his Discourse, it is thought fit to make no further Observation upon it.
The TATLER. [No 70.
Quicquid agunt Homines nostri Farrago Libelli.
From
Saturday Sept.
17. to
Tuesd. Sept.
20. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
September 19.
THE following Letter, in Prosecution of what I have lately asserted, has urged that Matter so much better than I had, that I insert it as I received it. These Testimonials are customary with us learned Men, and sometimes are suspected to be written by the Author; but I fear no one will suspect me of this.
London,
Sept. 15. 1709.
SIR,
HAving read your Lucubrations of the 10th Instant, I can't but entirely agree with you in your Notions of the Scarcity of Men who can either read or speak. For my Part, I have lived these 30 Years in the World, and yet have observed but a very few who could do either in any tolerable Manner; among which few, you must understand that I reckon my self. How far Eloquence, set off with the proper Ornaments of Voice and Gesture, will prevail over the Passions, and how cold and unaffecting the best Oration in the World would be without them, there are Two remarkable Instances in the Case of
Ligarius
and that of
Milo. Caesar
had condemned
Ligarius.
He came indeed to hear what might be said; but thinking himself his own Master, resolved not to be byassed by any Thing
Cicero
could say in his Behalf: But in this he was mistaken; for when the Orator began to speak, the Hero is moved, he is vanquish'd, and at length the Criminal absolved. It must be observed, that this famous Orator was less renown'd for his Courage than his Eloquence; for though he came at another Time, prepared to defend
Milo
with one of the best Orations that Antiquity has produced; yet being seized with a sudden Fear by seeing some armed Men surrounding the
Forum,
he falter'd in his Speech, and became unable to exert that irresistible Force and Beauty of Action which would have saved his Client, and for Want of which he was condemned to Banishment. As the Success the former of these Orations met with, appears chiefly owing to the Life and graceful Manner with which it was recited, (for some there are who think it may be read without Transport) so the latter seems to have failed of Success for no other Reason, but because the Orator was not in a Condition to set it off with those Ornaments. It must be confessed, that artful Sound will with the Crowd prevail even more than Sense; but those who are Masters of both, will ever gain the Admiration of all their Hearers: And there is, I think, a very natural Account to be given of this Matter; for the Sensation of the Head and Heart are caused in each of these Parts by the outward Organs of the Eye and Ear: That therefore which is conveyed to the Understanding and Passions by only one of these Organs, will not affect us so much as that which is transmitted through both. I can't but think your Charge is just against a great Part of the learned Clergy of
Great Britain,
who deliver the most excellent Discourses with such Coldness and Indifference, that 'tis no great Wonder the unintelligent Many of their Congregations fall asleep. Thus it happens that their Orations meet with a quite contrary Fate to that of
Demesthenes
you mentioned; for as that lost much of its Beauty and Force by being repeated to the Magistrates of
Rhodes
without the winning Action of that great Orator, so the Performances of these Gentlemen never appear with so little Grace, and to so much Disadvantage, as when delivered by themselves from the Pulpit.
Hippocrates
being sent for to a Patient in this City, and having felt his Pulse, enquired into the Symptoms of his Distemper, and finding that it proceeded in a great Measure from Want of Sleep, advises his Patient, with an Air of Gravity, to be carried to Church to hear a Sermon, not doubting but that it would dispose him for the Rest he wanted. If some of the Rules
Horace
gives for the Theatre, were (not improperly) applied to our Pulpits, we should not hear a Sermon prescribed as a good Opiate.
— Si vis me flere, dolendum est
Primum ipsi tibi —
A Man must himself express some Concern and Affection in delivering his Discourse, if he expects his Auditory should interest themselves in what he proposes: For otherwise, notwithstanding the Dignity and Importance of the Subject he treats of; notwithstanding the Weight and Argument of the Discourse it self; yet too many will say,
— Male si Mandata loqueris,
Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo. —
If there be a Deficiency in the Speaker, there will not be a sufficient Attention and Regard paid to the Things spoken: But, Mr.
Bickerstaff,
you know, that as too little Action is cold, so too much is fulsome. Some indeed may think themselves accomplished Speakers, for no other Reason than because they can be loud and noisy; (for surely
Stentor
must have some Design in his Vociferations.) But, dear Mr.
Bickerstaff,
convince them, that as harsh and irregular Sound is not Harmony; so neither is banging a Cushion, Oratory: And therefore, in my humble Opinion, a certain Divine of the First Order, whom I allow otherwise to be a great Man, would do well to leave this off; for I think, his Sermons would be more perswasive, if he gave his Auditory less Disturbance. Though I cannot say, that this Action would be wholly improper to a prophane Oration; yet, I think, in a Religious Assembly, it gives a Man too Warlike, or perhaps too Theatrical a Figure, to be suitable to a Christian Congregation. I am,
SIR,
Your humble Servant,
&c.
The most learned and ingenious Mr.
Roschat
is also pleased to write to me on this Subject.
SIR,
I Read with great Pleasure in the
Tatler
of
Saturday
last the Conversation upon Eloquence; permit me to hint to you one Thing the great
Roman
Orator observes upon this Subject,
Caput enim arbitrabatur Oratoris,
(he quotes
Menedemus
an
Athenian
)
ut ipsis apud quos ageret talis qualem ipse optaret videretur, id fieri Vitae Dignitate.
It is the first Rule in Oratory, That a Man must appear such as he would perswade others to be, and that can be accomplish'd only by the Force of his Life. I believe it might be of great Service to let our publick Orators know, That an unnatural Gravity, or an unbecoming Levity in their Behaviour out of the Pulpit, will take very much from the Force of then Eloquence in it. Excuse another Scrap of
Latin;
'tis from one of the Fathers: I think it will appear a just Observation to all, as it may have Authority with some;
Qui autem docent tantum, nec faciunt, ipsi Praeceptis suis detrahunt Pondus; Quis enim obtemperet, cum ipsi Praeceptores doceant non obtemperare?
I am,
SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Jonathan Roschat.
P. S.
You were complaining in that Paper, That the Clergy of
Great Britain
had not yet learned to speak: A very great Defect indeed! and therefore I shall think my self a Well-Deserver of the Church, in recommending all the dumb Clergy to the famous speaking Doctor at
Kensington.
This ingenious Gentleman, out of Compassion to those of a bad Utterance, has placed his whole Study in the new modelling the Organs of Voice; which Art he has so far advanced, as to be able even to make a good Orator of a Pair of Bellows. He lately exhibited a Specimen of his Skill in this Way, of which I was informed by the worthy Gentlemen then present, who were at once delighted and amazed to hear an Instrument of so simple an Organisation use an exact Articulation of Words, a just Cadency in its Sentences, and a wonderful
Pathos
in its Pronunciation; not that he designs to expatiate in this Practice, because he cannot (as he says) apprehend what Use it may be of to Mankind, whose Benefit he aims at in a more particular Manner: And for the same Reason, he will never more instruct the Feather'd Kind, the Parrat having been his last Scholar in that Way. He has a wonderful Faculty in making and mending Ecchoes, and this he will perform at any Time for the Use of the Solitary in the Country, being a Man born for universal Good, and for that Reason recommended to your Patronage by,
Sir,
Yours,
&c.
Another learned Gentleman gives me also this Encomium:
SIR,
September 16.
YOU are now got into an useful and noble Subject; take Care to handle it with, Judgment and Delicacy. I wish every young Divine would give yours of
Saturday
last a serious Perusal; and now you are entered upon the Action of an Orator, if you would proceed to favour the World with some Remarks on the
mystical Enchantments of Pronunciation, what a secret Force there is in the Accents of a tunable Voice, and wherefore the Works of Two very great Men of the Profession could never please so well when read as heard, I shall trouble you with no more Scribble. You are now in the Method of being truly profitable and delightful. If you can keep up to such great and sublime Subjects, and pursue them with a suitable Genius, go on and prosper.
Farewel.
White's Chocolate-house,
September 19.
This was left for me here for the Use of the Company of the House.
To
Isaac Bickerstaff
Esq
Sept. 15.
SIR,
THE Account you gave lately of a certain Dog-kennel in or near
Suffolk street,
was not so punctual as to the List of the Dogs, as might have been expected from a Person of Mr.
Bickerstaff
's Intelligence; for if you'll dispatch
Pacolet
thither some Evening, 'tis Ten to One but he finds, besides those you mentioned,
Towzer,
a large
French
Mongrel, that was not long ago in a tatter'd Condition, but has now got new Hair; is not fleet, but when he grapples, bites even to the Marrow.
Spring,
a little
French
Greyhound, that lately made a false Trip to
Tunbridge.
Sly,
an old battered Fox-hound, that began the Game in
France.
Lightfoot,
a fine skinned
Flanders
Dog, that belong'd to a Pack at
Ghent;
but having lost Flesh, is come to
Paris
for the Benefit of the Air.
With several others, that in Time may be worth Notice.
Your Familiar will see also, how anxious the Keepers are about the Prey, and indeed not without very good Reason, for they have their Share of every Thing; nay, not so much as a poor Rabbet can be run down, but these carnivorous Curs swallow a Quarter of it. Some Mechanicks in the Neighbourhood, that have enter'd into this civil Society (and who furnish Part of the Carrion and Oatmeal for the Dogs) have the Skin; and the Bones are pick'd clean by a little
French
Shock that belongs to the Family,
&c.
I am,
SIR,
Your humble Servant,
&c.
I had almost forgot to tell you, That
Ringwood
bites at
Hampstead
with false Teeth.
The TATLER. [No 71.
From
Tuesd. Sept.
20. to
Thursday Sept.
22. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
September 21.
I Have long been against my Inclination employed in Satyr, and that in Prosecution of such Persons who are below the Dignity of the true Spirit of it; such who I fear are not to be reclaimed by making them only ridiculous. The
Sharpers
therefore shall have a Month's Time to themselves free from the Observation of this Paper; but I must not make a Truce without letting 'em know, that at the same Time I am preparing for a more vigorous War; for a Friend of mine has promised me, he will employ his Time in compiling such a Tract before the Session of the ensuing Parliament, as shall lay Gaming home to the Bosoms of all who love their Country or their Families; and he doubts not but it will create an Act, that shall make these Rogues as scandalous, as those less mischievous Ones on the high Road.
I have received private Intimations to take Care of my Walks, and remember there are such Things as Stabs and Blows: But as there never was any Thing in this Design which ought to displease a Man of Honour, or which was not design'd to offend the Rascals, I shall give my self very little Concern for finding what I expected, that they would be highly provoked at these Lucubrations. But tho' I utterly despise the Pack, I must confess I am at a Stand at the Receipt of the following Letter, which seems to be written by a Man of Sense and Worth, who has mistaken some Passage that I am sure was not levelled at him. This Gentleman's Complaints give me Compunction, when I neglect the Threats of the Rescals. I can't be in Jest with the Rogues any longer, since they pretend to threaten. I don't know whether I shall allow 'em the Favour of Transportation.
Sept. 13.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
OBserving you are not content with lashing the many Vices of the Age, without illustrating each with particular Characters, it's thought nothing would more contribute to the Impression you design by such, than always having regard to Truth. In your
Tatler
of this Day, I observe you allow, That nothing is so tender as a Lady's Reputation; that a Stain once got in their Fame, is hardly ever to be washed out. This you grant even when you give your self Leave to trifle. If so, What Caution is necessary in handling the Reputation of a Man, whose well-being in this Life perhaps entirely depends on preserving it from any Wound, which once there received, too often becomes fatal and incurable? Suppose some villainous Hand, through Personal Prejudice, transmits Materials for this Purpose, which you publish to the World, and afterwards become fully convinced you were imposed on; (us by this Time you may be of a Character you have sent into the World;) I say, supposing this, I would be glad to know, what Reparation you think ought to be made the Person so injured, admitting you stood in his Place. It has always been held, that a generous Education is the surest Mark of a generous Mind. The former is indeed perspicuous in all your Papers; and I am perswaded, tho' you affect often to shew the latter, yet you would not keep any Measures (even of Christianity) with those who should handle you in the Manner you do others. The Application of all this is from your having very lately glanced at a Man, under a Character, that were he conscious to deserve, he would be the first to rid the World of himself; and would be more justifiable in it to all Sorts of Men, than you in your committing such a Violence on his Reputation, which perhaps you may be convinced of in another Manner than you deserve from him.
A Man of your Capacity, Mr.
Bickerstaff,
should have more noble Views, and pursue the true Spirit of Satyr; but I will conclude, lest I grow out of Temper, and will only beg for your own Preservation, to remember the Proverb of the Pitcher.
I am Yours,
A. J.
The Proverb of the Pitcher I have no Regard to; but it would be an Insensibility not to be pardoned, if a Man could be untouched at so warm an Accusation, and that laid with so much seeming Temper. All I can say to it is, That if the Writer, by the same Method whereby he conveyed this Letter, shall give me an Instance wherein I have injured any good Man, or pointed at any Thing which is not the true Object of Raillery, I shall acknowledge the offence in as open a Manner as the Press can do it, and lay down this Paper for ever.
There is something very terrible in unjustly attacking Men in a Way that may prejudice their Honour or Fortune; but when Men of too Modest a Sense of themselves will think they are touched, it is impossible to prevent ill Consequences from the most innocent and general Discourses. This I have known happen in Circumstances the most foreign to theirs who have taken Offence at them. An Advertisement lately published, relating to
Omicron,
alarmed a Gentleman of good Sense, Integrity, Honour, and Industry, which is, in every Particular, different from the trifling Pretenders pointed at in that Advertisement. When the Modesty of some is as excessive as the Vanity of others, What Defence is there against Misinterpretation? However, giving Disturbance, though not intended, to Men of virtuous Characters, has so sincerely troubled me, that I will break from this Satyrical Vein; and to show I very little value my self upon it, shall for this Month ensuing, leave the
Sharper,
the
Fop,
the
Pedant,
the
Proud Man,
the
Insolent;
in a Word, all the Train of
Knaves
and
Fools,
to their own Devices, and touch on nothing but Panegyrick. This Way is suitable to the true Genius of the
Staffs,
who are much more inclined to reward than punish. If therefore the Author of the Above-mention'd Letter does not command my Silence wholly, as he shall if I do not give him Satisfaction, I shall for the above-mentioned Space turn my Thoughts to raising Merit from its Obscurity, celebrating Virtue in its Distress, and attacking Vice by no other Method, but setting Innocence in a proper Light.
Will's Coffee-house,
Sept. 20.
I find here for me the following Letter:
'Squire
Bickerstaff,
FInding your Advice and Censure to have a good Effect, I desire your Admonition to our Vicar and Schoolmaster, who in his Preaching to his Auditors, stretches his Jaws so wide, that instead of instructing Youth, it rather frightens them: Likewise in reading Prayers, he has such a careless Loll, that People are justly offended at his irreverent Posture; besides the extraordinary Charge they are put to in sending their Children to dance, to bring them off of those ill Gestures. Another evil Faculty he has, in making the Bowling-Green his daily Residence, instead of his Church, where his Curate reads Prayers every Day. If the Weather is fair, his Time is spent in Visiting; if Cold or Wet, in Bed, or at least at Home, though within 100 Yards of the Church. These out of many such irregular Practices, I write for his Reclaimation: But two or three Things more before I conclude; to wit, that generally when his Curate preaches in the Afternoon, he sleeps sotting in the Desk on a Hissock. With all this, he is so extreamly proud, that he will go but once to the Sick, except they return his Visit.
I was going on in reading my Letter, when I was interrupted by Mr.
Greenhat,
who has been this Evening at the Play of
Hamlet.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
said he, had you been to Night at the Playhouse, you had seen the Force of Action in Perfection: Your admired Mr.
Betterton
behaved himself so well, that, tho' now about Seventy, he acted Youth; and by the prevalent Power of proper Manner, Gesture and Voice, appeared thro' the whole
Drama
a young Man of great Expectation, Vivacity and Enterprize. The Soliloquy, where he began the celebrated Sentence of,
To be, or not to be;
the Expostulation where he explains with his Mother in her Closet, the noble Ardor, after seeing his Father's Ghost, and his generous Distress for the Death of
Ophelia;
are each of them Circumstances which dwell strongly upon the Minds of the Audience, and would certainly affect their Behaviour on any parallel Occasion in their own Lives. Pray, Mr.
Bickerstaff,
let us have Virtue thus represented on the Stage with its proper Ornaments, or let these Ornaments be added to her in Places more sacred. As for my Part, said he, I carried my Cousin
Jerry,
this little Boy, with me, and shall always love the Child for his Partiality in all that concerned the Fortune of
Hamlet.
This is entring Youth into the Affections and Passions of Manhood before-hand, and as it were antedating the Effects we hope from a long and liberal Education.
I cannot in the midst of many other Things which press, hide the Comfort that this Letter from my ingenious Kinsman gives me.
To my honoured Kinsman,
Isaac Bickerstaff
Esq
Oxford,
Sept. 18.
Dear Cousin,
I Am sorry, though not surpriz'd, to find that you have rallied the Men of Dress in vain; that the Amber-headed Cane still maintains its unstable Post; that Pockets are but a few Inches shortened; and a Beau is still a Beau, from the Crown of his Nightcap to the Heels of his Shoes. For your Comfort, I can assure you, that your Endeavours succeed better in this famous Seat of Learning. By them, the Manners of our young Gentlemen are in a fair Way of Amendment, and their very Language is mightily refined. To them it is owing, that not a Servitor will sing a Catch, not a Senior Fellow make a Pun, not a determining Batchelor drink a Bumper; and I believe a Gentleman Commoner would as soon have the Heels of his Shoes red as his Stockings. When a Witling stands at a Coffee-house Door, and sneers at those who pass by, to the great Improvement of his hopeful Audience, he is no longer Sirnamed a
Slicer,
but a Man of Fire is the Word. A Beauty, whose Health is drank from
Heddington
to
Hinksey,
who has been the Theme of the Muses, (her Cheeks painted with Roses, and her Bosom planted with Orange Boughs) has no more the Title of
Lady,
but reigns an undisputed
Toast.
When to the plain Garb of Gown and Band a Spark adds an inconsistent long Wig, we do not say now he
Boshes,
but there goes a
Smart
Fellow. If a Virgin blushes, we no longer cry she
Blues.
He that drinks till he stares, is no more
Tow-Row,
but
Honest.
A
Youngster
in a
Scrape,
is a Word out of Date; and what bright Man says, I was
Joab'd
by the Dean:
Bombouzling
is exploded; a
Shat
is a Tatler; and if the muscular Motion of a Man's Face be violent, no Mortal says, he
raises a Horse,
but he's a
Merry Fellow.
I congratulate you, my dear Kinsman, upon these Conquests; such as
Roman
Emperors lamented they could not gain; and in which you rival your Correspondent
Lewis le Grand,
and his dictating Academy.
Be yours the Glory to perform, mine to record (as Mr.
Dryden
has said before me to
his
Kinsman); and while you enter triumphant into the Temple of the
Muses,
I, as my Office requires, will, with my Staff on my Shoulder, attend and conduct you. I am,
Dear Cousin,
Your most affectionate Kinsman,
Benjamin Beadlestaff.
Upon the humble Application of certain Persons who have made Heroick Figures in Mr.
Bickerstaff
's Narrations, Notice is hereby given, That no such shall ever be mention'd for the future, except those which have sent Menaces, and not submitted to Admonition.
The TATLER. [No 72.
From
Thursd. Sept.
22. to
Saturd. Sept.
24. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
September 23.
I Have taken upon me no very easy Task in turning all my Thoughts on Panegyrick, when most of the Advices I receive tend to the quite coutrary Purpose; and I have few Notices but such as regard Follies and Vices. But the properest Way for me to treat, is, to keep in general upon the Passions and Affections of Men, with as little Regard to Particulars as the Nature of the Thing will admit. However, I think there is something so passionate in the Circumstances of the Lovers mentioned in the following Letter, that I am willing to go out of my Way to obey what is commanded in it.
London,
Sept. 17.
SIR,
YOur Design of entertaining the Town with the Characters of the ancient Heroes, as Persons shall send an Account to Mr.
Morphew
's, encourages me and others to beg of you, that in the mean Time (if it is not contrary to the Method you have proposed) you would give us one Paper upon the Subject of
Paetus
and his Wife's Death, when
Nero
sent him an Order to kill himself: His Wife setting him the Example, dy'd with these Words, Patus,
it is not painful.
You must know the Story, and your Observations upon it will oblige,
SIR,
Your most humble Servant.
When the worst Man that ever lived in the World had the highest Station in it, Humane Life was the Object of his Diversion; and he sent Orders frequently, out of meer Wantonness, to take off such and such, without so much as being argry with 'em. Nay, frequently his Tyranny was so humorous, that he put Men to Death because he could not but approve of 'em. It came one Day to his Ear, that a certain married Couple,
Paetus
and
Arria,
lived in a more happy Tranquility and mutual Love than any other Persons who were then in Being. He listen'd with great Attention to the Account of their Manner of spending their Time together, of the constant Pleasure they were to each other in all their Words and Actions; and found by exact Information, that they were so treasonable, as to be much more happy than his Imperial Majesty himself. Upon which he writ
Paetus
the following Billet:
Paetus,
you are hereby desired to dispatch your self. I have heard a very good Character of you; and therefore leave it to your self, whether you will die by Dagger, Sword, or Poison. If you outlive this Order above an Hour, I have given Directions to put you to Death by Torture.
NERO.
This familiar Epistle was delivered to his Wife
Arria,
who opened it.
One must have a Soul very well turned for Love, Pity, and Indignation, to comprehend the Tumult this unhappy Lady was thrown into upon this Occasion. The Passion of Love is no more to be understood by some Tempers, than a Problem in a Science by an ignorant Man: But be that knows what Affection is, will have, upon considering the Condition of
Arria,
Ten Thousand Thoughts flow in upon him, which the Tongue was not form'd to express. But the charming Statue is now before my Eyes, and
Arria,
in her unutterable Sorrow, has more Beauty than ever appeared in Youth, in Mirth, or in Triumph. These are the great and noble Incidents which speak the Dignity of our Nature, in our Sufferings and Distresses. Behold, her tender Affection for her Husband sinks her Features into a Countenance, which appears more helpless than that of an Infant: But again, her Indignation shows in her Visage and her Bosom a Resentment as strong as that of the bravest Man. Long she stood in this Agony of alternate Rage and Love; but at last composed her self for her Dissolution, rather than survive her beloved
Paetus.
When he came into her Presence, he found her with the Tyrant's Letter in one Hand, and a Dagger in the other. Upon his Approach to her, she gave him the Order; and at the same Time stabbing her self,
Paetus
(said she)
it is not painful,
and expired.
Paetus
immediately followed her Example. The Passion of these memorable Lovers was such, that it illuded the Rigour of their Fortune, and baffled the Force of a Blow, which neither felt, because each received it for the Sake of the other. The Woman's Part in this Story is by much the more Heroick, and has occasioned one of the best Epigrams transmitted to us from Antiquity:
When
Arria
pull'd the Dagger from her Side,
Thus to her Consort spoke th'illustrious Bride:
The Wound I gave my self I do not grieve,
I die by that which
Paetus
must receive.
From my own Apartment,
September 23.
The Boy says, one in a black Hat left the following Letter:
19th of the 7th Month.
Friend,
BEing of that Part of Christians whom Men call
Quakers;
and being a Seeker of the Right Way, I was perswaded Yesterday to hear one of your most noted Teachers. The Matter he treated, was the Necessity of a Well-living, grounded upon a future State. I was attentive; but the Man did not appear in earnest. He read his Discourse (notwithstanding thy Rebukes) so heavily, and with so little Air of being convinced himself, that I thought he would have slept, as I observed many of his Hearers did. I came Home unedified, and troubled in Mind. I dip'd into the
Lamentations,
and from thence turning to the 34th Chapter of
Exekiel,
I found these Words;
We be to the Shepherds of
Israel,
that do feed themselves! Should not the Shepherds feed the Flock? Ye eat the Fat, and ye cloath you with the Wool: Ye kill them that are fed; but ye feed not the Flock. The Diseased have ye not strengthen'd; neither have ye heal'd that which was sick; neither have ye bound up that which was broken; neither have ye brought again that which was driven away; neither have ye sought that which was lost; but with Force and with Cruelty have ye ruled them,
&c. Now I pray thee, Friend, as thou art a Man skill'd in many Things, tell me, Who is meant by the
Diseas'd,
the
Sick,
the
Broken,
the
Driven away,
and the
Lost?
And whether the Prophecy in this Chapter be accomplish'd, or yet to come to pass? And thou wilt oblige they Friend, though unknown.
This Matter is too sacred for this Paper; but I can't see what Injury it would do any Clergyman to have it in his Eye, and believe, all that are taken from him by his Want of Industry, are to be demanded of him. I dare say,
Favonius
has very few of these Losses.
Favonius,
in the midst of a Thousand impertinent Assailants of the Divine Truths, is an undisturbed Defender of'em. He protects all under his Care, by the Clearness of his Understanding, and the Example of his Life: He visits dying Men with the Air of a Man who hoped for his own Dissolution, and enforces in others a Contempt of this Life, by his own Expectation of the next. His Voice and Behaviour are the lively Images of a composed and well-governed Zeal. None can leave him for the frivolous Jargon uttered by the ordinary Teachers among Dissenters, but such who cannot distinguish Vociferation from Eloquence, and Argument from Railing. He is so great a Judge of Mankind, and touches our Passions with so superior a Command, that he who deserts his Congregation must be a Stranger to the Dictates of Nature, as well as to those of Grace.
But I must proceed to other Matters, and resolve the Questions of other Enquirers; as in the following:
Heddington,
Sept. 19.
SIR,
UPon reading that Part of the
Tatler,
Number 69. where Mention is made of a certain Chappel-Clerk, there arose a Dispute, and that produced a Wager, Whether by the Words Chappel-Clerk, was meant a Clergyman or a Layman? By a Clergyman, I mean one in holy Orders. It was not that any Body in the Company pretended to guess who the Person was; but some asserted, that by Mr.
Bickerstaff
's Words must be meant a Clergyman only: Others said, that those Words might have been said of any Clerk of a Parish; and some of 'em more properly, of a Layman. The Wager is half a Dozen Bottles of Wine; in which (if you please to determine it) your Health, and all the Family of the
Staffs,
shall certainly be drank; and you will singularly oblige another very considerable Family. I mean that of
Your humble Servants,
The Trencher-Caps.
It is very customary with us learned Men, to find Perplexities where no one else can see any. The honest Gentlemen who writ me this, are much at a Loss to understand what I thought very plain; and in Return, their Epistle is so plain, that I can't understand it. This, perhaps, is at first a little like Nonsence; but I desire all Persons to examine these Writings with an Eye to my being far gone in the Occult Sciences; and remember, that it is the Privilege of the Learned and the Great to be understood when they please: For as a Man of much Business may be allowed to leave Company when he pleases; so one of high Learning may be above your Capacity when he thinks fit. But without further Speeches or Fooling. I must inform my Friends the
Trencher-Gaps
in plain Words, that I meant in the Place they speak of, a drunken Clerk of a Church: And I will return their Civility among my Relations, and drink their Healths as they do ours.
The TATLER. [No 73.
From
Saturd. Sept.
24. to
Tuesday Sept.
27. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
September 26.
I Cannot express the Confusion the following Letter gave me, which I received by Sir
Thomas
this Morning. There cannot be a greater Suprize, than to meet with sudden Enmity in the midst of a familiar and friendly Correspondence; which is my Case in Relation to this Epistle: And I have no Way to purge my self to the World, but publishing both it and my Answer.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
YOU are a very impudent Fellow to put me into the
Tatler.
Rot you, Sir, I have more Wit than you; and rot me, I have more Money than most Fools I have bubbled. All Persons of Quality admire me; though, roe me, if I value a Blue Garter any more than I do a Blue Apron. Every Body knows I am brave; therefore have a Care how you provoke
Monoculus.
The ANSWER.
SIR,
DID I not very well know your Hand, as well by the Spelling as the Character, I should not have believed yours of to Day had come from you. But when all Men are acquainted, that I have had all my Intelligence from you relating to your Fraternity, let them pronounce who is the more impudent. I confess I have had a peculiar Tenderness for you, by reason of that luxuriant Eloquence of which you are Master, and have treated you accordingly; for which you have turned your florid Violence against your ancient Friend and School-fellow. You know in your own Conscience, you gave me Leave to touch upon your Vein of Speaking, provided I hid your other Talents; in which I believed you sincere, because, like the ancient
Simon,
you have before now suffer'd your self to be defaced to carry on a Plot. Besides, Sir, Rot me, Language for a Person of your present Station. Fie, fie, I am really ashamed for you, and shall no more depend upon your Intelligence. Keep your Temper, wash your Face, and go to Bed.
Isaac Bickerstaff.
For ought I know, this Fellow may have confus'd the Description of the Pack, on Purpose to ensnare the Game, while I have all along believed he was destroying them as well as my self. But because they pretend to bark more than ordinary, I shall let 'em see, that I will not throw away the Whip, till they know better how to behave themselves. But I must not at the same Time omit the Praises of their Oeconomy express'd in the following Advice:
Sept. 17.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
THough your Thoughts are at present employed upon the Tables of
Fame,
and marshalling your illustrious Dead, 'tis hoped the Living may not be neglected, nor defrauded of their just Honours: And since you have begun to publish to the World the great Sagacity and Vigilance of the Knights of the Industry, it will be expected you should proceed to do Justice to all the Societies of them you can be informed of, especially since their own great Industry covers their Actions as much as possible from that publick Notice which is their Due.
Paulum sepulte distat Inertiae
Celata Virtus.
Hidden Vice, and conceal'd Virtue, are much alike.
Be pleased therefore to let the following Memoirs have a Place in their History.
In a certain Part of the Town, famous for the freshest Oysters and the plainest
English,
there is a House, or rather a College, sacred to Hospitality, and the industrious Arts. At the Entrance is hieroglyphically drawn, a Cavali r contending with a Monster, with Jaws expanded, just ready to devour him.
Hither the Brethren of the Industry resort; but to avoid Ostentation, they wear no Habits of Distinction, and perform their Exercises with as little Noise and Show as possible. Here are no Under-Graduates, but each is a Master of his Art. They are distributed according to their various Talents, and detached abroad in Parties, to divide the Labours of the Day. They have Dogs as well nos'd and as fleet as any, and no Sportsmen shew greater Activity. Some beat for the Game, some hunt it, others come in at the Death; and my honest Landlord makes very good Venison Sauce, and eats his Share of the Dinner.
I would fain pursue my Metaphors; but a venerable Person who stands by me, and waits to bring you this Letter, and whom, by a certain Benevolence in his Look, I suspect to be
Pacolet,
reproves me, and obliges me to write in plainer Terms, That the Society had fixed their Eyes on a gay young Gentleman, who has lately succeeded to a Title and an Estate; the latter of which they judged would be very convenient for them. Therefore, after several Attempts to get into his Acquaintance, my Landlord finds an Opportunity to make his Court to a Friend of the young Spark's, in the following Manner:
Sir, As I take you to be a Lover of Ingenuity and Plain-Dealing, I shall speak very freely to you. In a few Words then, you are acquainted with Sir
Liberal Brisk.
Providence has for our Emolument sent him a fair Estate, for Men are not born for themselves. Therefore if you'll bring him to my House, we will
take Care of him,
and you shall have half the Profits. There's
Ace
and
Cutter
will do his Business to a Hair. You'll tell me, perhaps, he's your Friend: I grant it, and 'tis for that I propose it, to prevent his falling into ill Hands.
We'll carve him like a Dish fit for the Gods,
Not hew him like a Carcass fit for Hounds.
In short, there are to my certain Knowledge a Hundred Mouths open for him. Now if we can secure him to our selves, we shall disappoint all those Rascals that don't deserve him. Nay, you need not stare at it, Sir, 'tis for your own Advantage. Besides,
Partridge
has cast me his Nativity, and I find by certain Destiny,
his Oaks must be fell'd.
The Gentleman to whom this honest Proposal was made, made little Answer; but said he would consider of it, and immediately took Coach to find out the young Baronet, and told him all that had pass'd, together with the new Salvo to satisfie a Man's Conscience in sacrificing his Friend. Sir
Brisk
was fired, swore a Dozen Oaths, drew his Sword, put it up again, call'd for his Man, beat him, and bid him fetch a Coach. His Friend asked him, What he design'd, and whither he was going? He answered, to find out the Villains and fight 'em. To which his Friend agreed, and promised to be his Second, on Condition he would first divide his Estate to 'em, and reserve only a Proportion to himself, that so he might have the Justice of fighting his Equals. His next Resolution was to play with 'em, and let 'em see he was not the Bubble they took him for. But he soon quitted that, and resolved at last to tell
Bickerstaff
of 'em, and get 'em inrolled in the Order of the
Industry,
with this Caution to all young landed Knights and 'Squires, That whenever they are drawn to play, they would consider it as calling 'em down to a Sentence already pronounced upon 'em, and think of the Sound of those Words,
His Oaks must be fell'd.
I am,
SIR,
Your faithful, humble Servant,
Will. Trusty.
From my own Apartment,
September 26.
It is wonderful to consider what a Pitch of Confidence this World is arrived at. Do People believe I am made up of Patience? I have long told them, that I will suffer no Enormity to pass, without I have an Understanding with the Offenders by Way of Hush-Money; and yet the Candidates at
Queen-Hithe
send Coals to all the Town but me. All the publick Papers have had this Advertisement.
London,
Sept. 22. 1709.
To the Electors of an Alderman for the Ward of
Queen-Hithe.
WHereas an evil and pernicious Custom has of late very much prevailed at the Election of Aldermen for this City, by treating at Taverns and Alehouses, thereby engaging many unwarily to give their Votes: Which Practice appearing to Sir
Arthur de Bradly
to be of dangerous Consequence to the Freedom of Elections, he hath avoided the Excess thereof. Nevertheless, to make an Acknowledgment to this Ward for their intended Favour, he hath deposited in the Hands of Mr. —, one of the present Common-Council, Four Hundred and Fifty Pounds, to be disposed of as follows, provided the said Sir
Arthur de Bradly
be the Alderman,
viz.
All such that shall Poll for Sir
Arthur de Bradly,
shall have one Cha'dron of good Coals
gratis.
And half a Chaldron to every one that shall not Poll against him.
And the Remainder to be laid out in a Clock, Dial, or otherwise, as the Common-Council-Men of the said Ward shall think fit.
And if any Person shall refuse to take the said Coals to himself, he may assign the same to any poor Electors in the Ward.
I do acknowledge to have received the said Four Hundred and Fifty Pounds, for the Purposes above-mentioned, for which I have given a Receipt
Witness,
J—s H—t,
J—y G—h,
E—d D—s,
J—n M—y.
N. B.
Whereas several Persons have already engaged to Poll for Sir
Humphry Greenhat,
it is hereby farther declared, That every such Person as doth Poll for Sir
Humphry Greenhat,
and doth also Poll for Sir
Arthur de Bradly,
shall each of them receive a Chaldron of Coals
gratis,
on the Proviso above-mentioned.
This is certainly the most plain Dealing that ever was used, except that the just Quantity which an Elector may drink without Excess, and the Difference between an Acknowledgment and a Bribe, wants Explanation. Another Difficulty with me is, How a Man who is bargain'd with for a Chaldron of Coals for his Vote, shall be said to have that Chaldron
gratis?
If my Kinsman
Greenhat
had given me the least Intimation of his Design, I should have prevented his publishing Nonsence; nor should any Knight in
England
have put my Relation at the Bottom of the Leaf as a Postscript, when after all it appears
Greenhat
has been the more popular Man. There is here such open Contradiction, and clumsy Art to palliate the Matter, and prove to the People, that the Freedom of Election is safer when laid out in Coals than strong Drink, that I can turn this only to a Religious Use, and admire the Dispensation of Things; for if these Fellows were as wise as they are rich, Where would be our Liberty? This reminds me of a memorable Speech made to a City almost in the same Latitude with
Westminster: When I think of your Wisdom, I admire your Wealth; when I think of your Wealth, I admire your Wisdom.
The TATLER. [No 74.
From
Tuesd. Sept.
27. to
Thursd. Sept.
29. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
September 28.
THE Writer of the following Letter has made an Use of me, which I did not foresee I should fall into. But the Gentleman having assured me that he has a most tender Passion for the Fair One, and speaking his Intentions with so much Sincerity, I am willing to let 'em contrive an Interview by my Means.
SIR,
I Earnestly intreat you to publish the inclosed; for I have no other Way to come at her, or return to my self.
A. L.
P. S.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
You can't imagine how handsome she is: The Superscription of my Letter will make her recollect the Man that gaz'd at her. Pray put it in.
I can assure the young Lady, the Gentleman is in the true Trammels of Love: How else would he make his Superscription so very much longer than his Billet? He superscribes;
To the younger of the Two Ladies in Mourning (who late in the hindmost Seat of the middle Box at Mr.
Winstanley
's Water-Works on
Tuesday
was Fortnight, and had with them a Brother, or some Acquaintance that was as careless of that pretty Creature as a Brother; which seeming Brother usher'd 'em to their Coach;) with great Respect. Present.
MADAM,
I Have a very good Estate, and wish my self your Husband. Let me know by this Way where you live; for I shall be miserable till we live together.
Alexander Landlord.
This is the modern Way of Bargain and Sale; a certain Short-hand Writing, in which Laconick Elder Brothers are very successful. All my Fear is, that the Nymph's elder Sister is unmarried. If she is, we are undone: But perhaps the careless Fellow was her Husband; and then she will let us go on.
From my own Apartment,
September 28.
The following Letter has given me a new Sense of the Nature of my Writings. I have the deepest Regard to Conviction, and shall never act against it. However, I do not yet understand what good Man he thinks I have injured: But his Epistle has such Weight in it, that I shall always have Respect for his Admonition, and desire the Continuance of it. I am not conscious that I have spoke any Faults a Man may not mend if he pleases.
Sept. 25.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
WHen I read your Paper of
Thursday,
I was surpriz'd to find mine of the 13th inserted at large; I never intended my self or you a second Trouble of this Kind, believing I had sufficiently pointed out the Man you had injur'd, and that by this Time you were convinced that Silence would be the best Answer; but finding your Reflections are such as naturally call for a Reply, I take this Way of doing it; and, in the first Place, return you Thanks for the Compliment made me of my seeming Sense and Worth. I do assure you, I shall always endeavour to convince Mankind of the latter, though I have no Pretence to the former. But to come a little nearer, I observe you put your self under a very severe Restriction, even the laying down the
Tatler
for ever, if I can give you an Instance,
wherein you have injur'd any good Man, or pointed at any Thing which is not the true Object of Raillery.
I must confess, Mr.
Bickerstaff,
if the making a Man guilty of Vices that would shame the Gallows, be the best Methods to
point at the true Object of Raillery,
I have till this Time been very igno ant; but if it be so, I will venture to assert one Thing, and lay it down as a Maxim, even to the
Staffian
Race,
viz.
That that Method of Pointing ought no more to be pursued, than those People ought to cut your Throat who suffer by it, because I take both to be Murder, and the Law is not in every private Man's Hands to execute: But indeed, Sir, were you the only Person would suffer by the
Tatler
's Discontinuance, I have Malice enough to punish you in the Manner you prescribe; but I am not so great an Enemy to the Town or my own Pleasures, as to wish it; nor that you would lay aside lashing the reigning Vices, so long as you keep to the true Spirit of Satyr, without descending to rake into Characters below its Dignity; for as you well observe,
There is something very terrible in unjustly attacking Men in a Way that may prejudice their Honour or Fortune;
and indeed, where Crimes are enormous, the Delinquent deserves little Pity, yet the Reporter may deserve less: And here I am naturally led to that celebrated Author of
The whole Duty of Man,
who hath set this Matter in a true Light in his Treatise of
the Government of the Tongue;
where, speaking of uncharitable Truths, he says, a Discovery of this Kind
serves not to reclaim, but enrage the Offender, and precipitate him into farther Degrees of Ill. Modesty and Fear of Shame is one of those natural Restraints, which the Wisdom of Heaven has put upon Mankind; and he that once stumbles, may yet by a Check of that Bridle recover again: But when by a publick Detection he is fallen under that Infamy he feared, he will then be apt to discard all Caution, and to think he ower himself the utmost Pleasures of Vice, as the Price of his Reputation. Nay, perhaps he advances farther, and sets up for a revers'd Sort of Fame, by being eminently wicked, and he who before was but a clandestine Disciple, becomes a Doctor of
Impiety,
&c.
This Sort of Reasoning, Sir, most certainly induced our wise Legislators very lately to repeal that Law which put the Stamp of Infamy in the Face of Felons; therefore you had better give an Act of Oblivion to your Delinquents, at least for Transportation, than continue to mark them in so notorious a Manner. I can't but applaud your design'd Attempt of
raising Merit from Obscurity, celebrating Virtue in Distress, and attacking Vice in another Method, by setting Innocence in a proper Light.
Your pursuing these noble Themes, will make a greater Advance to the Reformation you seem to aim at, than the Method you have hitherto taken, by putting Mankind beyond the Power of retrieving themselves, or indeed to think it possible. But if after all your Endeavours in this new Way, there should then remain any harden'd Impenitents, you must e'en give 'em up to the Rigour of the Law, as Delinquents not within the Benefit of their Clergy. Pardon me, good Mr.
Bickerstaff,
for the Tediousness of this Epistle, and believe 'tis not from any Self-Conviction I have taken up so much of your Time, or my own; but supposing you mean all your Lucubrations should tend to the Good of Mankind, I may the easier hope your Pardon, being.
SIR,
Yours,
&c.
Grecian Coffee-house,
September 29.
This Evening I thought fit to notifie to the
Literati
of this House, and by that Means to all the World, That on
Saturday
the 15th of
October
next ensuing, I design to fix my first Table of
Fame;
and desire that such as are acquainted with the Characters of the Twelve most famous Men that have ever appeared in the World, would seud in their Lists, or name any one Man for that Table, assigning also his Place at it before that Time, upon Pain of having such his Man of Fame postponed, or placed too high for ever. I shall not, upon any Application whatsoever, alter the Place which upon that Day I shall give to any of these Worthies. But whereas there are many who take upon them to admire this Hero, or that Author, upon Secondhand, I expect each Subscriber should underwrite his Reason for the Place he allots his Candidate.
The Thing is of the last Consequence; for we are about settling the greatest Point that has ever been debated in any Age, and I shall take Precautions accordingly. Let every Man who votes consider, That he is now going to give away that, for which the Soldier gave up his Rest, his Pleasure, and his Life; the Scholar resign'd his whole Series of Thought, his Midnight Repose, and his Morning Slumbers. In a Word, he is (as I may say) to be Judge of that After-Life, which noble Spirits prefer to their very real Beings. I hope I shall be forgiven therefore, if I make some Objections against their Jury, as they shall occur to me. The Whole of the Number by whom they are to be try'd, are to be Scholars. I am perswaded also, that
Aristotle
will be put up by all of that Class of Men. However, in Behalf of others, such as wear the Livery of
Aristotle,
the Two famous Universities are called upon on this Occasion; but I except the Men of
Queen's, Exeter,
and
Jesus
Colleges, in
Oxford,
who are not to be Electors, because he shall not be crown'd from an implicit Faith in his Writings, but receive his Honour from such Judges as shall allow him to be censur'd. Upon this Election (as I was just now going to say) I banish all who think and speak after others to concern themselves in it. For which Reason all illiterate distant Admirers are forbidden to corrupt the Voices, by sending, according to the new Mode, any poor Students Coals and Candles for their Votes in Behalf of such Worthies as they pretend to esteem. All News-Writers are also excluded, because they consider Fame as it is a Report which gives Foundation to the filling up their Rhapsodies, and not as it is the Emanation or Consequence of good and evil Actions. These are excepted against as justly as Butchers in case of Life and Death: Their Familiarity with the greatest Names takes off the Delicacy of their Regard, as dealing in Blood makes the
Lanii
less tender of spilling it.
St. James's Coffee-house,
September 28.
Letters from
Lisbon
of the 25th Instant,
N. S.
speak of a Battle which has been fought near the River
Cinca,
in which General
Staremberg
had overthrown the Army of the Duke of
Anjou.
The Persons who send this, excuse their not giving Particulars, because they believed an Account must have arrived here before we could hear from them. They had Advices from different Parts, which concurr'd in the Circumstances of the Action; after which the Army of his Catholick Majesty advanced as far as
Fraga,
and the Enemy retir'd to
Saragossa.
There are Reports, That the Duke of
Anjou
was in the Engagement; but Letters of good Authority say, That Prince was on the Road towards the Camp when he receiv'd the News of the Defeat of his Troops. We promise our selves great Consequences from such an Advantage, obtain'd by so accomplish'd a General as
Staremberg;
who, among the Men of this present Age, is esteemed the Third in Military Fame and Reputation.
The TATLER. [No 75.
From
Thursd. Sept.
29. to
Saturd. Octob.
1. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
September 30.
I Am called off from publick Dissertations by a Domestick Affair of great Importance, which is no less than the Disposal of my Sister
Jenny
for Life. The Girl is a Girl of great Merit, and pleasing Conversation; but I being born of my Father's First Wife, and she of his Third, she converses with me rather like a Daughter than a Sister. I have indeed told her, That if she kept her Honour, and behaved her self in such Manner as became the
Bickerstaffs,
I would get her an agreeable Man for her Husband; which was a Promise I made her after reading a Passage in
Pliny
's
Epistles.
That polite Author had been employ'd to find out a Consort for his Friend's Daughter, and gives the following Character of the Man he had pitch'd upon:
Aciliano plurlmum Vigoris & Industriae quanquam in maxima Verecundia: Est illi Facies liberalis, multo Sanguine, multo Rubore, suffusa: Est ingenua totius Corporis Pulchritudo, & quidam fenatorius Decor, quae ego nequaquam arbitror negligenda: Debet enim hoc Castitati Puellarum quasi Praemium dari.
Acilianus
(for that was the Gentleman's Name) is a Man of extraordinary Vigour and Industry, accompanied with the greatest Modesty. He has very much of the Gentleman, with a lively Colour, and Flush of Health in his Aspect. His whole Person is finely turn'd, and speaks him a Man of Quality: Which are Qualifications that, I think, ought by no Means to be over-look'd, and should be bestow'd on a Daughter as the Reward of her Chastity.
A Woman that will give her self Liberties, need not put her Parents to so much Trouble; for if she does not posses these Ornaments in a Husband, she can supply her self elsewhere. But this is not the Case of my Sister
Jenny,
who, I may say without Vanity, is as unspotted a Spinster as any in
Great Britain.
I shall take this Occasion to recommend the Conduct of our own Family in this Particular.
We have in the Genealogy of our House, the Descriptions and Pictures of our Ancestors from the Time of King
Arthur;
in whose Days there was one of my own Name, a Knight of his Round Table, and known by the Name of Sir
Isaac Bickerstaff.
He was low of Stature, and of a very swarthy Complexion, not unlike a
Portugueze
Jew. But he was more prudent than Men of that Height usually are, and would often communicate to his Friends his Design of lengthening and whitening his Posterity. His eldest Son
Ralph,
for that was his Name, was for this Reason married to a Lady who had little else to recommend her, but that she was very tall and very fair. The Issue of this Match, with the Help of high Shoes, made a tolerable Figure in the next Age; though the Complexion of the Family was obscure 'till the Fourth Generation from that Marriage. From which Time, till the Reign of
William the Conqueror,
the Females of our House were famous for their Needle-work and fine Skins. In the Male Line, there happened an unlucky Accident in the Reign of
Richard
the Third; the eldest Son of
Philip,
then Chief of the Family, being born with an Hump-back and very high Nose. This was the more astonishing, because none of his Forefathers ever had such a Blemish; nor indeed was there any in the Neighbourhood of that Make, except the Butler, who was noted for round Shoulders, and a
Roman
Nose: What made the Nose the less excusable, was the remarkable Smallness of his Eyes.
These several Defects were mended by succeeding Matches; the Eyes were open'd in the next Generation, and the Hump fell in a Century and half; but the greatest Difficulty was, how to reduce the Nose; which I do not find was accomplish'd till about the Middle of
Henry
the Seventh's Reign, or rather the Beginning of that of
Henry
the Eighth.
But while our Ancestors were thus taken up in cultivating the Eyes and Nose, the Face of the
Bickerstaffs
fell down insensibly into Chin; which was not taken Notice of (their Thoughts being so much employ'd upon the more noble Features) till it became almost too long to be remedied.
But Length of Time, and successive Care in our Alliances, have cured this also, and reduced our Faces into that tolerable Oval which we enjoy at present. I would not be tedious in this Discourse, but cannot but observe, that our Race suffer'd very much about Three Hundred Years ago, by the Marriage of one of our Heiresses with an eminent Courtier, who gave us Spindle-Shanks, and Cramps in our Bones, insomuch that we did not recover our Health and Legs till Sir
Walter Bickerstaff
married
Maud
the Milk-Maid, of whom the then
Garter
King at Arms (a facetious Person) said pleasantly enough, That she had spoiled our Blood, but mended our Constitutions.
After this Account of the Effect our prudent Choice of Matches has had upon our Persons and Features, I cannot but observe, that there are daily Instances of as great Changes made by Marriage upon Men's Minds and Humours. One might wear any Passion out of a Family by Culture, as skilful Gardiners blot a Colour out of a Tulip that hurts its Beauty. One might produce an affable Temper out of a Shrew, by grafting the Mild upon the Cholerick; or raise a Jackpudding from a Prude, by inoculating Mirth and Melancholy. It is for Want of Care in the disposing of our Children, with Regard to our Bodies and Minds, that we go into an House and see such different Complexions and Humours in the same Race and Family. But to me it is as plain as a Pikestaff, from what Mixture it is, that this Daughter silently lowers, t'other steals a kind Look at you, a third is exactly well behaved, a fourth a Splenatick, and a fifth a Coquet.
In this Disposal of my Sister, I have chosen, with an Eye to her being a Wit, and provided, that the Bridegroom be a Man of sound and excellent Judgment, who will seldom mind what she says when she begins to harangue: For
Jenny
's only Imperfection is an Admiration of her Parts, which inclines her to be a little, but a very little, sluttish; and you are ever to remark, that we are apt to cultivate most, and bring into Observation, what we think most excellent in our selves, or most capable of Improvement. Thus my Sister, instead of consulting her Glass and her Toilet for an Hour and an half after her private Devotions, sits with her Nose full of Snuff, and a Man's Nightcap on her Head, reading in Plays and Romances. Her Wit she thinks het Distinction; therefore knows nothing of the Skill of Dress, or making her Person agreeable. It would make you laugh to see me often with my Spectacles on, lacing her Stays; for she is so very a Wit, that she understands no ordinary Thing in the World.
For this Reason I have disposed of her to a Man of Business, who will soon let her see, that to be well dress'd, in good Humour, and chearful in the Command of her Family, are the Arts and Sciences of Female Life. I could have bestow'd her upon a Fine Gentleman, who extremely admir'd her Wit, and would have given her a Coach and Six: But I found it absolutely necessary to cross the Strain; for had they met, they had eternally been Rivals in Discourse, and in continual Contention for the Superiority of Understanding, and brought forth Criticks, Pedants, or pretty good Poets. As it is, I expect an Offspring fit for the Habitation of City, Town, or Country; Creatures that are docile and tractable in whatever we put 'em to.
To convince Men of the Necessity of taking this Method, let any one, even below the Skill of an Astrologer, behold the Turn of Faces he meets as soon as he passes
Cheapside-Conduit,
and you see a deep Attention and a certain unthinking Sharpness in every Countenance. They look attentive, but their Thoughts are engaged on mean Purposes. To me it is very apparent when I see a Citizen pass by, whether his Head is upon Woollen, Silks, Iron, Sugar, Indigo, or Stocks. Now, this Trace of Thought appears or lies hid in the Race for Two or Three Generations.
I know at this Time a Person of a vast Estate, who is the immediate Descendant of a Fine Gentleman, but the Great-Grandson of a Broker, in whom his Ancestor is now revived. He is a very honest Gentleman in his Principles, but can't for his Blood talk fairly: He is heartily sorry for it; but he cheats by Constitution, and over-reaches by Instinct.
The Happiness of the Man who Marries my Sister will be, that he has no Faults to correct in her but her own, a little Byass of Fancy, or Particularity of Manners, which grew in her self, and can be amended by her. From such an untainted Couple, we can hope to have our Family rise to its ancient Splendor of Face, Air, Countenance, Manner and Shape, without discovering the Product of Ten Nations in one House.
Obadiah Greenhat
says, he never comes into any Company in
England,
but he distinguishes the different Nations of which we are compos'd: There is scarce such a living Creature as a True
Britain.
We sit down indeed all Friends, Acquaintance, and Neighbours; but after Two Bottles, you see a
Dane
start up and swear, The Kingdom is his own. A
Saxon
drinks up the whole Quart, and swears, He'll dispute that with him. A
Norman
ells 'em both, He'll assert his Liberty: And a
Welshman
cries, They are all Foreigners and Intruders of Yesterday, and beats 'em out of the Room. Such Accidents happen frequently among Neighbours Children, and Cousin-Germans. For which Reason I say, study your Race, or the Soil of your Family will dwindle into Cits or 'Squires, or run up into Wits or Madmen.
The TATLER. [No 76.
From
Saturd. Octob.
1. to
Thesd. Octob.
4. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Octob. 3.
IT is a Thing very much to be lamented, that a Man must use a certain Cunning to caution People against what it is their Interest to avoid. All Men will allow, that it is a great and heroick Work to correct Men's Errors, and at the Price of being called a Common Enemy, to go on in being a Common Friend to my Fellow Subjects and Citizens. But I am forced in this Work to revolve the same Thing in Ten Thousand Lights, and cast 'em in as many Forms, to come at Men's Minds and Affections, in order to lead the Innocent in Safety, as well as disappoint the Artifices of Betrayers. Since therefore I can make no Impression upon the offending Side, I shall turn my Observations upon the Offended; That is to say, I must whip my Children for going into bad Company, instead of railing at bad Company for insnaring my Children.
The greatest Misfortune Men fall into, arise from themselves; and that Temper, which is call'd very often, tho' with great Injustice, Good Nature, is the Source of a numberless Train of Evils. For which Reason we are to take this as a Rule, That no Action is commendable which is not voluntary; and we have made this a Maxim,
That Man who is commonly call'd Good Natured, is hardly to be thanked for any Thing he does, because half that is acted about him, is done rather by his Sufferance than Approbation.
It is generally a Laziness of Disposition, which chuses rather to let Things pass the worst Way, than to go through the Pain of Examination. It must be confessed, such a one has so great a Benevolence in him, that he bears a Thousand Uneasmesses, rather than he will incommode others; nay often when he has just Reason to be offended, chuses to sit down with a small Injury, than bring it into Reprehension, out of pure Compassion to the Offender. Such a Person has it usually said of him, He is no Man's Enemy but his own; which is in Effect saying, He is a Friend to every Man but himself and his Friends: For by a natural Consequence of his neglecting himself, he either incapacitates himself to be another's Friend, or makes others cease to be his. If I take no Care of my own Affairs, no Man that is my Friend, can take it ill if I am negligent also of his. This soft Disposition, if it continues uncorrected, throws Men into a Sea of Difficulties.
There is
Euphusius,
with all the good Qualities in the World, deserves well of no Body. That universal Good will which is so strong in him, exposes him to the Assault of every Invader upon his Time, his Conversation, and his Property. His Diet is Butchers Meat, his Wenches are in plain Pinners and
Norwich
Crapes, his Dress like other People, his Income great, and yet has he seldom a Guinea at Command. From these easy Gentlemen, are collected Estates by Servants or Gamesters; which latter Fraternity are excusable, when we think of this Clan, who seems born to be their Prey. All therefore of the Family of
Actaeon
are to take Notice, That they are hereby given up to the Brethren of the
Industry,
with this Reserve only, That they are to be marked as stricken Deer, not for their own Sakes, but to preserve the Herd from following them, and coming within the Scent.
I am obliged to leave this important Subject, without telling whose Quarters are sever'd, who has the Humbles, who the Haunch, and who the Legs, of the last Stag that was pulled down; but this is only deferred in Hopes my Deer will make their Escape without more Admonitions or Examples, of which they have had (in mine and the Town's Opinion) too great a Plenty. I must, I say, at present go to other Matters of Moment.
White's Chocolate-house,
October 3.
The Lady has answer'd the Letter of Mr.
Alexander Landlord,
which was publish'd on
Thursday
last, but in such a Manner as I do not think fit to proceed in the Affair; for she has plainly told him, That Love is her Design, but Marria
her Aversion. Bless me! What is this Age come to, that People can think to make a Pimp of an Astronomer!
I shall not promote such Designs, but shall leave her to find out her Admirer, while I speak to another Case sent to me by a Letter of
September
30. subscrib'd,
Lovewell Barebones,
where the Author desires me to suspend my Care of the Dead, till I have done something for the Dying. His Case is, That the Lady he loves is ever accompanied by a Kinswoman, one of those gay cunning Women, who prevent all the Love which is not address'd to themselves. This Creature takes upon her in his Mistress's Presence to ask him, Whether Mrs.
Florimel
(that is the cruel One's Name) is not very handsome; upon which he looks silly; then they both laugh our, and she will tell him, That Mrs.
Florimel
had an equal Passion for him, but defined him not to expect the first Time to be admitted in private; but that now he was at Liberty before her only, who was her Friend, to speak his Mind, and that his Mistress expected it. Upon which
Florimel
acts a Virgin-Confusion, and with some Disorder waits his Speech. Here ever follows a deep Silence; after which a loud Laugh. Mr.
Barebones
applies himself to me on this Occasion. All the Advice I can give him is to find a Lover for the Confident, for there is no other Bribe will prevail; and I see by her Carriage, that it is no hard Matter, for she is too gay to have a particular Passion, or to want a general One.
Some Days ago the Town had a full Charge laid against my Essays, and printed at large. I altered not one Word of what he of the contrary Opinion said; but have blotted out some warm Things said for me; therefore please to hear the Council for the Defendant, though I shall be so no otherwise than to take a middle Way, and, if possible, keep Commendations from being insipid to Men's Tast, or Raillery pernicious to their Characters.
Sept. 30.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
AS I always looked upon Satyr as the best Friend to Reformation, whilst its Lashes were general; so that Gentleman
See
Tatler,
No . 74. Sept. 29.
must excuse me, if I do not see the Inconvenience of a Method he is so much concerned at. The Errors he assigns in it, I think, are comprised
in the Desperation Men are generally driven too, when by a publick Detection they fall under the Infamy they feared, who otherwise, by checking their Bridle, might have recovered their Stumble, and through a Self-Conviction become their own Reformers: So he that was before but a clandestine Disciple,
(to use his own Quotation)
is now become a Doctor in Impiety.
The little Success that is to be expected by these Methods from a harden'd Offender, is too evident to insist on; yet it is true there is a great deal of Charity in this Sort of Reasoning, whilst the Effects of those Crimes extend not beyond themselves. But what Relation has this to your Proceedings? It is not a circumstantial Guessing will serve turn, for there are more than one to pretend to any of your Characters; but there must at least be something that must amount to a nominal Description, before even common Fame can separate me from the rest of Mankind to dart at. A general Representation of an Action, either ridiculous or enormous, may make those winch which find too much Similitude in the Character with themselves to plead Not Guilty; but none but a Witness to the Crime can charge them with the Guilt, whilst the Indictment is general, and the Offender has the Asylum of the whole World to protect him. Here can then be no Injustice, where no one is injured; for it is themselves must appropriate the Saddle, before Scandal can ride them.
Your Method then, in my Opinion, is no Way subject to the Charge brought against it; but on the contrary, I believe this Advantage is too often drawn from it, that whilst we laugh at, or detest, the uncertain Subject of the Satyr, we often find something in the Error a Parallel to our selves; and being insensibly drawn to the Comparison we would get rid of, we plunge deeper into the Mire, and Shame produces
at which Advice has been too weak for; and you, Sir, get Converts you never thought of.
As for descending to Characters below the Dignity of Satyr, what Men think are not beneath Commission, I must assure him, I think are not beneath Reproof: For as there is as much Folly in a ridiculous Deportment, as there is Enormity in a Criminal one, so neither the one nor the other ought to plead Exemption. The Kennel of Curs are as much Enemies to the State, as
Greg
for his Confederacy; for as this betray'd our Government, so the other does our Property, and one without the other is equally useless. As for the Act of Oblivion he so strenuously insists on,
Le Roy s'avisera
is a fashionable Answer; and for his Modus of Panegyrick, the Hint was unnecessary, where Virtue need never ask twice for her Lawrel. But as for his Reformation by Opposites, I again must ask his Pardon, if I think the Effects of these Sort of Reasonings (by the Paucity of Converts) are too great an Argument, both of their Imbecility and Unsuccessfulness, to believe it will be any better than mispending of Time, by suspending a Method that will turn more to Advantage, and which has no other Danger of losing Ground, but by Discontinuance. And as I am certain (of what he supposes) that your Lucubrations are intended for the publick Benefit, so I hope you will not give them so great an Interruption, by laying aside the only Method that can render you beneficial to Mankind, and (among others) agreeable to,
SIR,
Your humble Servant,
&c.
St. James's Coffee-house,
October 3.
Letters from the Camp at
Havre
of the 7th Instant,
N. S.
advise, That the Trenches were open'd before
Mons
on the 27th of the last Month, and the Approaches were carried on at Two Attacks with great Application and Success, notwithstanding the Rains which had fallen; That the Besiegers had made themselves Masters of several Redoubts, and other Outworks, and had advanced the Approaches within Ten Paces of the Counterscarps of the Hornwork, Lieutenant-General
Cadogan
received a slight Wound in the Neck soon after opening the Trenches.
The Enemy were throwing up Intrenchments between
Quesnoy
and
Valenciennes,
and the Chevalier
de Luxemburg
was encamped near
Charleroy
with a Body of 10000 Men. Advices from
Catalonia
by the Way of
Genoa
import, That Count
Staremberg
having pass'd the
Segra,
advanced towards
Belagnier,
which Place he took after a few Hours Resistance, and made the Garrison, consisting of Three
Spanish
Battalions, Prisoners of War. Letters from
Bern
say, That the Army under the Command of Count
Thaun
had began to repass the Mountains, and would shortly evacuate
Savoy.
Whereas Mr.
Bickerstaff
has receiv'd Intelligence, That a young Gentleman, who has taken my Discourses upon
John Partridge
and others in too literal a Sense, and is suing an elder Brother to an Ejectment; the aforesaid young Gentleman is hereby advised to drop his Action, no Man being esteemed dead in Law, who eats and drinks, and receives his Rents.
The TATLER. [No 77.
From
Tuesd. Octob.
4. to
Thursd. Octob.
6. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Octob. 5.
AS bad as the World is, I find by very strict Observation upon Virtue and Vice, that if Men appeared no worse than they really are, I should have less Work than at present I am obliged to undertake for their Reformation. They have generally taken up a kind of inverted Ambition, and affect even Faults and Imperfections of which they are innocent. The other Day in a Coffee-house I stood by a young Heir, with a fresh, sanguine, and healthy Look, who entertained us with an Account of his Claps and his Diet-Drink; though, to my Knowledge, he is as sound as any of his Tenants.
This worthy Youth put me into Reflections upon that Subject; and I observed the fantastical Humour to be so general, that there is hardly a Man who is not more or less tainted with it. The First of this Order of Men are the
Valetudinarians,
who are never in Health, but complain of Want of Stomach or Rest every Day till Noon, and then devour all which comes before them. Lady
Dainty
is convinced, that it is necessary for a Gentlewoman to be out of Order; and to preserve that Character, she dines every Day in her Closet at Twelve, that she may become her Table at Two, and be unable to eat in Publick. About five Years ago, I remember it was the Fashion to be short-sighted: A Man would not own an Acquaintance 'till he had first examined him with his Glass. At a Lady's Entrance into the Play-house, you might see Tubes immediately levelled at her from every Quarter of the Pit and Side-Boxes. However, that Mode of Infirmity is out, and the Age has recovered its Sight: But the Blind seem to be succeeded by the Lame, and a janty Limp is the present Beauty. I think I have formerly observed, a Cane is Part of the Dress of a Prig, and always worn upon a Button, for fear he should be thought to have an Occasion for it, or be esteemed really, and not genteely a Cripple. I have considered, but could never find out the Bottom of this Vanity. I indeed have heard of a
Gascon
General, who by the lucky grazing of a Bullet on the Roll of his Stocking, took Occasion to halt all his Life after. But as for our peaceable Cripples, I know no Foundation for their Behaviour, without it may be supposed that in this Warlike Age, some think a Cane the next Honour to a Wooden Leg. This Sort of Affectation I have known run from one Limb or Member to another. Before the
Limpers
came in, I remember a Race of
Lispers,
fine Persons, who took an Aversion to particular Letters in our Language: Some never uttered the Letter
H;
and others had as mortal an Aversion to
S.
Others have had their fashionable Defect in their Ears, and would make you repeat all you said twice over. I know an ancient Friend of mine, whose Table is every Day surrounded with Flatterers, that makes use of this, sometimes as a Piece of Grandeur, and at others as an Art, to make them repeat their Commendations. Such Affectations have been indeed in the World in ancient Times; but they fell into them out of politick Ends.
Alexander the Great
had a wry Neck, which made it the Fashion in his Court to carry their Heads on one Side when they came into the Presence. One who thought to outshine the whole Court, carried his Head so over-complaisantly, that this martial Prince gave him so great a Box on the Ear, as set all the Heads of the Court upright.
This Humour takes Place in our Minds as well as Bodies. I know at this Time a young Gentleman, who talks atheistically all Day in Coffee-houses, and in his Degrees of Understanding sets up for a
Free Thinker;
though it can be proved upon him, he says his Prayers every Morning and Evening. But this Class of modern Wits I shall reserve for a Chapter by it self.
Of the like Turn are all your
Marriage-Haters,
who rail at the Noose, at the Words,
For ever and Aye,
and at the same Time are secretly pining for some young Thing or other that makes their Hearts ake by her Refusal. The next to these, are such as pretend to govern their Wives, and boast how ill they use them; when at the same Time, go to their Houses, and you shall see them step as if they feared making a Noise, and are as fond as an Alderman. I don't know, but sometimes these Pretences may arise from a Desire to conceal a contrary Defect than that they set up for. I remember, when I was a young Fellow, we had a Companion of a very fearful Complexion, who, when we sate in to drink, would desire us to take his Sword from him when he grew fuddled, for 'twas his Misfortune to be quarrelsome.
There are many, many of these Evils, which demand my Observation; but because I have of late been thought somewhat too Satyrical, I shall give them Warning, and declare to the whole World, that they are not true, but false Hypocrites; and make it out, that they are good Men in their Hearts. The Motive of this monstrous Affectation in the above-mentioned, and the like Particulars, I take to proceed from that noble Thirst of Fame and Reputation which is planted in the Hearts of all Men. As this produces elegant Writings and gallant Actions in Men of great Abilities, it also brings forth spurious Productions in Men who are not capable of distinguishing themselves by Things which are really Praise-worthy. As the Desire of Fame in Men of true Wit and Gallantry shows it self in proper Instances, the same Desire in Men who have the Ambition without proper Faculties, runs wild, and discovers it self in a Thousand Extravagancies, by which they would signalize themselves from other, and gain a Set of Admirers. When I was a middle-aged Man, there were many Societies of ambitious young Men in
England,
who, in their Pursuits after Fame, were every Night employed in roasting Porters, smoaking Coblers, Knocking down Watchmen, overturning Constables, breaking Windows, blackening Sign-Posts, in the like immortal Enterprizes, that dispersed their Reputation throughout the whole Kingdom. One could hardly find a Knocker at a Door in a whole Street after a Midnight Expedition of these
Beaux Esprits.
I was lately very much surprised by an Account of my Maid, who entered my Bed-Chamber this Morning in a very great Fright, and told me, She was afraid my Palour was haunted; for that she had found several Panes of my Windows broken, and the Floor strowed with Half-pence. I have not yet a full Light into this new Way, but am apt to think, that it is a generous Piece of Wit that some of my Contemporaries make Use of, to break Windows, and leave Money to pay for them.
St. James's Coffee-house,
October 5.
I have no Manner of News, more than what she whole Town had t'other Day; except that I have the Original Letter of the Mareschal
Boufflers
to the
French
King, after the late Battle in the Woods, which I translate for the Benefit of the
English
Reader.
SIR,
THis is to let your Majesty understand, That to your immortal Honour, and the Destruction of the Confederates, your Troops have lost another Battle.
Artagnan
did Wonders
Rohan
performed Miracles,
Guiche
did Wonders,
Gattion
performed Miracles, the whole Army distinguished themselves, and every Body did Wonders. And to conclude the Wonders oF the Day, I can assure your Majesty, That tho' you have lost the Field of Battle, you have not lost an Inch of Ground. The Enemy marched behind us with Respect, and we ran away from 'em as bold as Lions.
Letters have been sent to Mr.
Bickerstaff,
relating to the present State of the Town of
Bath,
wherein the People of that Place have desired him to call Home the Physicians. All Gentlemen therefore of that Profession are hereby directed to return forthwith to their Places of Practice; and the Stage-Coaches are required to take them in before other Passengers, till there shall be a Certificate signed by the Major or Mr.
Powel,
that there are but Two Doctors to One patient left in Town.
The TATLER. [No 78.
From
Thursd. Octob.
6. to
Saturd. Octob.
8. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
October 7.
AS your Painters, who deal in History-Pieces, often entertain themselves upon broken Sketches, and smaller Flourishes of the Pencil; so I find some Relief in striking out Miscellaneous Hints, and sudden Starts of Fancy, without any Order or Connexion, after having spent my self on more regular and elaborate Dissertations. I am at present in this easy State of Mind sat down to my Sctutore; where, for the better Disposition of my Correspondence, I have writ upon every Drawer the proper Title of its Contents, as Hypocrisy, Dice, Patches, Politicks, Love, Duels, and so forth. My various Advices are ranged under such several Heads, saving only that I have a particular Box for
Pacolet,
and another for
Monoculas.
I cannot but observe, that my Duel-Box, which is filled by the Letter'd Men of Honour, is so very ill spelt, that it is hard to decipher their Writings. My Love Box, though on a quite contrary Subject, filled with the Works of the fairest Hands in
Great Britain,
is almost as unintelligible. The private Drawer, which is sacred to Politicks, has in it some of the most refined Panegyricks and Satyrs that any Age has produced.
I have now before me several Recommendations for Places at my Table of
Fame:
Three of them are of an extraordinary Nature, in which I find I am misunderstood, and shall therefore beg Leave to produce them. They are from a Quaker, a Courtier, and a Citizen.
ISAAC,
THY Lucubrations, as thou lovest to call them, have been persued by several of our Friends, who have taken Offence: Forasmuch as thou excludest out of the Brotherhood all Persons who are Praise-worthy for Religion, we are afraid that thou wilt fill thy Table with none but Heathens, and cannot hope to spy a Brother there; for there are none of us who can be placed among murdering Heroes, or ungodly Wits; since we do not assail our Enemie with the Arm of Flesh, nor our Gainsayers with the Vanity of Humane Wisdom. It therefore thou wilt demean thy self on this Occasion with a right Judgment, according to the Gifts that are in thee, we desire thou wilt place
James Naylor
at the upper End of thy Table.
Ezekiel Stiffrump.
In Answer to my good Friend
Ezekiel,
I must stand to it, that I cannot break my Rule for the Sake of
James Naylor;
not knowing, whether
Alexander the Great,
who is a Cholerick Hero, won't resent his sitting at the upper End of the Table with his Hat on.
But to my Courtier:
SIR,
I Am surprised, that you lose your Time in complimenting the Dead, when you may make your Court to the Living. Let me only tell you in the Ear,
Alexander
and
Caesar
(as generous as they were formerly) have not now a Groat to dispose of. Fill your Table with good Company: I know a Person of Quality that shall give you 100
l.
for a Place at it. Be secret, and be rich.
Yours, You know my Hand.
This Gentleman seems to have the true Spirit, without the Formality of an Under-Courtier; therefore I shall be plain with him, and let him leave the Name of his Courtier, and 100
l.
in
Morphew
's Hands: If I can take it, I will.
My Citizen writes the following:
Mr.
Isaac Bickerstaff,
SIR,
YOur
Tatler
of
September
13. am now reading, and in your List of famous Men, desire you not to forget Alderman
Whittington,
who began the World with a Cat, and died worth Three Hundred and Fifty Thousand Pounds Sterling, which he left to an only Daughter Three Years after his Mayoralty. If you want any further Particulars of
Ditto
Alderman, Daughter, or Cat, let me know, and
per
first will advise the Needful. Which concludes,
Your loving Friend,
Lemuel Leger.
I shall have all due Regard to this Gentleman's Recommendation; but cannot forbear observing, how wonderfully this Sort of Style is adapted for the Dispatch of Business, by leaving out insignificant Particles: Besides that, the dropping of the first Person is an artful Way to disengage a Man from the Guilt of rash Words or Promises. But I am to consider, that a Citizen's Reputation is Credit, not Fame; and am to leave these lofty Subjects for a Matter of private Concern in the next Letter before me.
SIR,
I Am just recovered out of a languishing Sickness by the Care of
Hippocrates,
who visited me throughout my whole Illness, and was so far from taking any Fee, that he enquired into my Circumstances, and would have relieved me also that Way, but I did not want it. I know no Method of Thanking him, but recommending it to you to celebrate so great Humanity in the Manner you think fit, and to do it with the Spirit and Sentiments of a Man just relieved from Grief, Misery, and Pain; to Joy, Satisfaction, and Ease: In which you will represent the grateful Sense of
Your Obedient Servant,
T. B.
I think the Writer of this Letter has put the Matter in as good a Dress as I can for him; yet I cannot but add my Applause to what this distressed Man has said. There is not a more useful Man in a Commonwealth than a good Physician; and by Consequence no worthier a Person than he that uses his Skill with Generosity; even to Persons of Condition, and Compassion to those who are in Want: Which is the Behaviour of
Hippocrates,
who shows as much Liberality in his Practice, as he does Wit in his Conversation and Skill in his Profession. A wealthy Doctor, who can help a poor Man, and will not without a Fee, has less Sense of Humanity than a poor Ruffian, who kills a rich Man to supply his Necessities. It is something monstrous, to consider a Man of a liberal Education tearing out the Bowels of a poor Family, by taking for a Visit what would keep them a Week.
Hippocrates
needs not the Comparison of such Extortion to set off his Generosity; but I mention his Generosity to add Shame to such Extortion.
This is to give Notice to all ingenious Gentlemen in and about the Cities of
London
and
Westminster,
who have a Mind to be instructed in the noble Sciences of Musick, Poetry, and Politicks, That they repair to the
Smyrna
Coffee-house in
Pall mall,
betwixt the Hours of Eight and Ten at Night, where they may be instructed
gratis,
with elaborate Essays by Word of Mouth on all or any of the above-mentioned Arts. The Disciples are to prepare their Bodies with Three Dishes of Bohea, and purge their Brains with Two Pinches of Snuff. If any young Student gives Indication of Parts, by listening attentively, or asking a pertinent Question, one of the Professors shall distinguish him, by taking Snuff out of his Box in the Presence of the whole Audience.
N. B.
The Seat of Learning is now removed from the Corner of the Chimney on the Left-Hand towards the Window, to the Round-Table in the Middle of the Floor over-against the Fire; a Revolution much lamented by the Porters and Chairmen, who were much edified through a Pane of Glass that remained broken all the last Summer.
I cannot forbear advertising my Correspondents that I think my self treated by some of them after too familiar a Manner, and in Phrases that neither become them to give, nor me to take. I shall therefore desire for the future, that if any one returns me an Answer to a Letter, he will not tell me he has received the
Favour of my Letter;
but if he does not think fit to say, he has received the
Honour
of it, that he tell me in plain
English,
he has received my Letter of such a Date. I must likewise insist, that he would conclude with,
I am with great Respect,
or plainly,
I am,
without further Addition; and not insult me, by an Assurance of his being with
great Truth
and
Esteem
my humble Servant. There is likewise another Mark of Superiority which I cannot bear, and therefore must inform my Correspondents, that I discard all
faithful
humble Servants, and am resolved to read no Letters that are not subscribed,
Your most obedient,
or
most humble Servant,
or both. These may appear Niceties to vulgar Minds, but they are such as Men of Honour and Distinction must have Regard to. And I very well remember a famous Duel in
France,
where Four were killed of one Side, and Three of the other, occasioned by a Gentleman's subscribing himself a
most affectionate Friend.
One in the Morning, of the 8th of
Octob.
1709.
I was this Night looking on the Moon, and find by certain Signs in that Luminary, that a certain Person under her Dominion, who has been for many Years distempered, will within few Hours publish a Pamphlet, wherein he will pretend to give my Lucubrations to a wrong Person; and I require all sober disposed Persons to avoid meeting the said Lunatick, or giving him any Credence any farther than Pity demands; and to lock up the said Person wherever they find him, keeping him from Pen, Ink, and Paper. And I hereby prohibit any Person to take upon him my Writings; on Pain of being sent by me into
Lethe
with the said Lunatick and all his Works.
The TATLER. [No 79.
Felices ter, & amplius
Quos irrupta tenet Copula; nec malis
Divulsus Querimoniis
Supremâ citius solvet Amor Die.
Hor.
From
Saturd. Octob.
8. to
Tuesday Octob.
11. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
October 10.
MY Sister
Jenny
's Lover, the honest
Tranquillus,
(for that shall be his Name) has been impatient with me to dispatch the necessary Directions for his Marriage; that while I am taken up with imaginary Schemes (as he called them) he might not burn with real Desire, and the Torture of Expectation. When I had reprimanded him for the Ardor wherein he expressed himself, which I thought had not enough of that Veneration with which the Marriage-Bed is to be ascended, I told him, the Day of his Nuptials should be on the
Saturday
following, which was the 8th Instant. On the 7th in the Evening, poor
Jenny
came into my Chamber, and having her Heart full of the great Change of Life from a Virgin Condition to that of a Wife, she long sate silent. I saw she expected me to entertain her on this important Subject, which was too delicate a Circumstance for her self to touch upon; whereupon I relieved her Modesty in the following Manner: Sister, (said I) you are now going from me; and be contented, that you leave the Company of a talkative old Man, for that of a sober young One: But take this along with you, That there is no Mean in the State you are entring into, but you are to be exquisitely happy or miserable, and your Fortune in this Way of Life will be wholly of your own making. In all the Marriages I have ever seen, (most of which have been unhappy Ones) the great Cause of Evil has proceeded from slight Occasions; and I take it to be the first Maxim in a married Condition, That you are to be above Trifles. When Two Persons have so good an Opinion of each other as to come together for Life, they will not differ in Matters of Importance, because they think of each other with Respect, in Regard to all Things of Consideration that may affect them, and are prepared for mutual Assistance and Relief in such Occurrences; but for less Occasions, they have formed no Resolutions, but leave their Minds unprepared.
This, dear
Jenny,
is the Reason that the Quarrel between Sir
Harry Willit
and his Lady, which began about her Squirrel, is irreconcilable: Sir
Harry
was reading a grave Author; she runs into his Study, and in a playing Humour, claps the Squirrel upon the Folio: He threw the Animal in a Rage on the Floor; she snatches it up again, calls Sir
Harry
a sowr Pedant, without good Nature or good Manners. This cast him into such a Rage, that he threw down the Table before him, kick'd the Book round the Room; then recollected himself: Lord, Madam, said he, Why did you run into such Expressions? I was, said he, in the highest Delight with that Author when you clap'd your Squirrel upon my Book; and smiling, added upon Recollection, I have a great Respect for your Favourite, and pray let us all be Friends. My Lady was so far from accepting this Apology, that she immediately conceived a Resolution to keep him under for ever; and with a serious Air, replied, There is no Regard to be had to what a Man says, who can fall into so indecent a Rage, and such an abject Submission, in the same Moment, for which I absolutely despise you. Upon which she rushed out of the Room. Sir
Harry
stayed some Minutes behind to think and command himself; after which he followed her into her Bed-chamber, where she was prostrate upon the Bed, tearing her Hair, and naming Twenty Coxcombs who would have used her otherwise. This provoked him to so high a Degree, that he forbore nothing but Beating her; and all the Servants in the Family were at their several Stations listening, while the best Man and Woman, the best Master and Mistress, defamed each other in a Way that is not be repeated even at
Billingsgate.
You know this ended in an immediate Separation: She longs to return Home, but knows not how to do it: He invites her Home every Day, and lies with every Woman he can get. Her Husband requires no Submission of her; but she thinks her very Return will argue she is to blame, which she is resolved to be for ever, rather than acknowledge it.
Thus, dear
Jenny,
my great Advice to you is, Be guarded against giving or receiving little Provocations. Great Matters of Offence I have no Reason to fear, either from you or your Husband. After this, we turned our Discourse into a more gay Style, and parted: But before we did so, I made her resign her Snuff-Box for ever, and half drown her self with washing away the Stench of the Musty.
But the Wedding Morning arrived, and our Family being very numerous, there was no avoiding the Inconvenience of making the Ceremony and Festival more publick, than the modern Way of celebrating them makes me approve of. The Bride next Morning came out of her Chamber, dressed with all the Art and Care that Mrs.
Toilet
the Tire-Woman could bestow on her. She was on her Wedding-Day Three and twenty: Her Person is far from what we call a regular Beauty; but a certain Sweetness in her Countenance, an Ease in her Shape and Motion, with an unaffected Modesty in her Looks, had Attractions beyond what Symmetry and Exactness can inspire without the Addition of these Endowments. When her Lover entered the Room, her Features flush'd with Shame and Joy; and the ingenuous Manner, so full of Passion and of Awe, with which
Tranquillus
approached to salute her, gave me good Omens of his future Behaviour towards her. The Wedding was wholly under my Care. After the Ceremony at Church, I was resolved to entertain the Company with a Dinner suitable to the Occasion, and pitch'd upon the
Apollo,
at the
Old Devil
at
Temple-Bar,
as a Place sacred to Mirth, temper'd with Discretion, where
Ben-Johnson
and his Sons used to make their liberal Meetings. Here the Chief of the
Staffian
Race appeared; and as soon as the Company were come into that ample Room,
Lepidus Wagstaff
began to make me Compliments for chusing that Place, and fell into a Discourse upon the Subject of Pleasure and Entertainment, drawn from the Rules of
Ben
's Club, which are in Gold Letters over the Chimney.
Lepidus
has a Way very uncommon, and speaks on Subjects, on which any Man else would certainly offend, with great Dexterity. He gave us a large Account of the publick Meetings of all the well-turned Minds who had passed through this Life in Ages past, and closed his pleasing Narrative with a Discourse on Marriage, and a Repetition of the following Verses out of
Milton:
Hail, wedded Love! mysterious Law! true Source
Of humane Offspring, sole Propriety
In Paradise, of all Things common else.
By thee adult'rous Lust was driv'n from Men
Among the bestial Herds to range; by thee,
Founded in Reason, loyal, just, and pure,
Relations dear, and all the Charities
Of Father, Son, and Brother, first were known.
Perpetual Fountain of domestick Sweets,
Whose Bed is undefiled, and chast pronounced,
Present or past, as Saints or Patriarchs used.
Here Love his Golden Shafts employs; here lights
His constant Lamp, and waves his Purple Wings:
Reigns here, and revels not in the bought Smile
Of Harlots, loveless, joyless, unindear'd,
Casual Fruition; nor in Court Amours,
Mixed Dance, or wanton Mask, or Midnight Ball,
Or Serenade, which the starv'd Lover sings,
To his proud Fair best quitted with Disdain.
In these Verses, all the Images that can come into a young Woman's Head on such an Occasion, are raised; but that in so chast and elegant a Manner, that the Bride thanked him for his agreeable Talk, and we sate down to Dinner.
Among the rest of the Company, there was got in a Fellow you call a
Wag.
This ingenious Person is the usual Life of all Feasts and Merriments, by speaking Absurdities, and putting every Body of Breeding and Modesty out of Countenance. As soon as we sate down, he drank to the Bride's Diversion that Night, and then made Twenty double Meanings on the Word
Thing.
We are the best bred Family, for one so numerous, in this Kingdom; and indeed we should all of us have been as much out of Countenance as the Bride, but that we were relieved by an honest rough Relation of ours at the lower End of the Table, who is a Lieutenant of Marines. This Soldier and Sailor had good plain Sense, and saw what was wrong as well as another; he had a Way of looking at his Plate, and speaking aloud in an inward Manner; and whenever the
Wag
mentioned the Word
Thing,
or the Words,
That same,
the Lieutenant in that Voice cried,
Knock him down.
The merry Man wondring, angry, and looking round, was the Diversion of the Table. When he offered to recover, and say, To the Bride's best Thoughts,
Knock him down,
says the Lieutenant, and so on. This silly Humour diverted, and saved us from the fulsom Entertainment of an ill-bred Coxcomb, and the Bride drank the Lieutenant's Health. We returned to my Lodging, and
Tranquillus
led his Wife to her Apartment, without the Ceremony of throwing the Stocking, which generally costs Two or Three Maidenheads without any Ceremony at all.
The TATLER. [No 80.
From
Tuesd. Octob.
11. to
Thursd. Octob.
13. 1709.
Grecian Coffee-house,
October 12.
THIS learned Board has complained to me of the exorbitant Price of late Years put upon Books, and consequently on Learning, which has raised the Reward demanded by learned Men for their Advice and Labour. In order to regulate and fix a Standard in these Matters; Divines, Physicians, and Lawyers, have sent in large Proposals, which are of great Light and Instruction. From the Perusal of these Memorials, I am come to this immediate Resolution, till I have Leisure to treat the Matter at large;
viz.
In Divinity, Fathers shall be valued according to their Antiquity; School-men by the Pound Weight; and Sermons by their Goodness. In my own Profession, which is mostly Physick, Authors shall be rated according to their Language. The
Greek
is so rarely understood, and the
English
so well, I judge them of no Value, so that only
Latin
shall bear a Price, and that too according to its Purity, and as it serves best for Prescription. In Law, the Value must be set according to the Intricacy and Obscurity of the Author, and Blackness of the Letter; provided always, that the Binding be of Calves-Skin. This Method I shall settle also with Relation to all other Writings; insomuch that even these our Lucubrations, though hereafter printed by
Aldus, Elzevir,
or
Stephanus,
shall not advance above one single Penny.
White's Chocolate-house,
October 12.
It will be allowed me, that I have all along showed great Respect in Matters which concern the Fair Sex; but the Inhumanity with which the Author of the following Letter has been used, is not to be suffered.
October 9.
SIR,
YEsterday I had the Misfortune to drop in at my Lady
Haughty
's upon her Visiting-Day. When I enter'd the Room where she receives Company, they all stood up indeed; but they stood as if they were to stare at, rather than to receive me. After a long Pause, a Servant brought a round Stool, on which I sat down at the lower End of the Room, in the Presence of no less than Twelve Persons, Gentlemen and Ladies, lolling in Elbow-Chairs. And to compleat my Disgrace, my Mistress was of the Society. I tried to compose my self in vain, not knowing how to dispose of either my Legs or Arms, nor how to shape my Countenance; the Eyes of the whole Room being still upon me in a profound Silence. My Confusion at last was so great, that without speaking, or being spoken to, I fled for it, and left the Assembly to treat me at their Discretion. A Lecture from you upon these inhumane Distinctions in a free Nation, will, I doubt not, prevent the like Evils for the future, and make it, as we say, As cheap Sitting as Standing. I am, with the greatest Respect,
SIR,
Your most Humble, and most Obedient Servant.
J. R.
P. S.
I had almost forgot to inform you, That a fair young Lady sat in an armless Chair upon my Right Hand, with manifest Discontent in her Looks.
Soon after the Receipt of this Epistle, I heard a very gentle Knock at my Door My Maid went down, and brought up Word, That a tall, lean, black Man, well dressed, who said he had not the Honour to be acquainted with me, desired to be admitted. I bid her show him up, met him at my Chamber-Door, and then fell back a few Paces. He approach'd me with great Respect, and told me with a low Voice, He was the Gentleman that had been seated upon the Round Stool. I immediately recollected, that there was a Joint Stool in my Chamber, which I was afraid he might take for an Instrument of Distinction, and therefore winked at my Boy to carry it into my Closet. I then took him by the Hand, and led him to the upper End of my Room, where I placed him in my great Elbow-Chair; at the same Time drawing another without Arms to it, for my self to sit by him. I then asked him, At what Time this Misfortune befel him? He answer'd, Between the Hours of Seven and Eight in the Evening. I further demanded of him, What he had eat or drank that Day? He replied, Nothing but a Dish of Water-gruel, with a few Plumbs in it. In the next Place, I felt his Pulse, which was very low and languishing. These Circumstances confirmed me in an Opinion which I had entertained upon the first reading of his Letter, that the Gentleman was far gone in the Spleen. I therefore advised him to rise the next Morning and plunge into the Cold Bath, there to remain under Water 'till he was almost drowned. This I ordered him to repeat Six Days successively; and on the Seventh, to repair at the wonted Hour to my Lady
Haughty
's, and to acquaint me afterwards with what he shall meet with there; and particularly to tell me, whether be shall think they stared upon him so much as the Time before. The Gentleman smiled; and by his Way of talking to me, shewed himself a Man of excellent Sense in all Particulars, unless when a Cane-Chair, a Round or a Joint-Stool, were spoken of. He opened his Heart to me at the same Time concerning several other Grievances; such as, being overlook'd in publick Assemblies, having his Bows unanswer'd, being helped last at Table, and placed at the back Part of a Coach; with many other Distresses, which have wither'd his Countenance, and worn him to a Skeleton. Finding him a Man of Reason, I entered into the Bottom of his Distemper. Sir, (said I) there are more of your Constitution in this Island of
Great Britain,
than in any other Part of the World; and I beg the Favour of you to tell me, Whether you do not observe, that you meet with most Affronts in rainy Days? He answered candidly, That he had long observed, that People were less sawcy in Sunshine, than in cloudy Weather. Upon which I told him plainly, his Distemper was the Spleen; and that though the World was very ill-natured, it was not so bad as he believed it. I further assured him, That his Use of the Cold Bath, with a Course of Steel which I should prescribe him, would certainly cure most of his Acquaintance of their Rudeness, ill Behaviour, and Impertinence. My Patient smiled, and promised to observe my Prescriptions, not forgetting to give me an Account of their Operation. This Distemper being pretty Epidemical, I shall, for the Benefit of Mankind, give the Publick an Account of the Progress I make in the Cure of it.
From my own Apartment,
October 12.
The Author of the following Letter behaves himself so ingenuously, that I cannot defer answering him any longer.
Octob. 6.
Honoured Sir,
I Have lately contracted a very honest and undissembled Claudication in my Left Foot, which will be a double Affliction to me, if (according to your
Tatler
of this Day) it must pass upon the World for a Piece of Singularity and Affectation. I must therefore humbly beg Leave to limp along the Streets after my own Way, or I shall be inevitably ruined in Coachhire. As soon as I am tolerably recovered, I promise to walk as upright as a Ghost it a Tragedy, being not of a Stature to spare an Inch of Height that I can any Way pretend to. I honour your Lucubrations, and am, with the most profound Submission,
Honoured Sir,
Your most Dutiful, and Most obedient Servant,
&c.
Not doubting but the Case is as the Gentleman represents, I do hereby order Mr.
Morphew
to deliver him out a Licence, upon paying his Fees, which shall empower him to wear a Cane till the 13th of
March
next; Five Months being the most I can allow for a Sprain.
St. James's Coffee-house,
October 12.
We received this Morning a Mail from
Holland,
which brings Advice, That the Siege of
Mons
is carried on with so great Vigour and Bravery, that we hope very suddenly to be Masters of the Place. All Things necessary being prepared for making the Assault on the Hornwork and Ravelin of the Attack of
Bertamont,
the Charge began with the Fire of Bombs and Grenades, which was so hot, that the Enemy quitted their Post, and we lodged our selves on those Works without Opposition. During this Storm, one of our Bombs fell into a Magazine of the Enemy, and blew it up. There are Advices which say, the Court of
France
had made new Offers of Peace to the Confederates; but this Intelligence wants Confirmation.
The TATLER. [No 81.
Hic Manus ob Patriam pugnando Vulnera passi,
Qui
que
pii Vates & Phoebo digna locuti,
Inventas aut qui Vitam excoluere per Artes,
Qui
que
sui memores alios fecere merendo.
Virg.
From
Thursd. Oct.
13. to
Saturd. Oct.
15. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
October 14.
THere are two Kinds of Immortality; that which the Soul really enjoys after this Life, and that Imaginary Existence by which Men live in their Fame and Reputation. The best and greatest Actions have proceeded from the Prospect of the one or the other of these; but my Design is to treat only of those who have chiefly proposed to themselves the latter as the principal Reward of their Labours. It was for this Reason that I excluded from my Tables of Fame all the great Founders and Votaries of Religion; and it is for this Reason also that I am more than ordinarily anxious to do Justice to the Persons of whom I am now going to speak; for since Fame was the only End of all their Enterprizes and Studies, a Man cannot be too scrupulous in allotting them their due Proportion of it. It was this Consideration which made me call the whole Body of the Learned to my Assistance; to many of whom I must own my Obligations for the Catalogues of illustrious Persons which they have sent me in upon this Occasion. I Yesterday employed the whole Afternoon in comparing them with each other; which made so strong an Impression upon my Imagination, that they broke my Sleep for the first Part of the following Night, and at length threw me into a very agreeable Vision, which I shall beg Leave to describe in all its Particulars.
I dreamed that I was conveyed into a wide and boundless Plain, that was covered with prodigious Multitudes of People, which no Man could number. In the Midst of it there stood a Mountain, with its Head above the Clouds. The Sides were extremely steep, and of such a particular Structure, that no Creature, which was not made in an Humane Figure, could possibly ascend it. On a sudden there was heard from the Top of it a Sound like that of a Trumpet; but so exceeding sweet and harmonious, that it filled the Hearts of those who heard it with Raptures, and gave such high and delightful Sensations, as seemed to animate and raise Humane Nature above it self. This made me very much amazed to find so very few in that innumerable Multitude, who had Ears fine enough to hear or relish this Musick with Pleasure: But my Wonder abated, when, upon looking round me, I saw most of them attentive to Three Sirens cloathed like Goddesses, and distinguished by the Names of
Sloth, Ignorance,
and
Pleasure.
They were seated on Three Rocks, amidst a beautiful Variety of Groves, Meadows, and Rivulets, that lay on the Borders of the Mountain. While the base and groveling Multitude of different Nations, Ranks and Ages, were listening to the sedelusive Deities, those of a more erect Aspect, and exalted Spirit, separated themselves from the rest, and marched in great Bodies towards the Mountain; from whence they heard the Sound, which still grew sweeter the more they listened to it.
On a sudden, methought this select Band sprang forward, with a Resolution to climb the Ascent, and follow the Call of that Heavenly Musick. Every one took something with him that he thought might be of Assistance to him in his March. Several had their Swords drawn, some carried Rolls of Paper in their Hands, some had Compasses, others Quadrants, others Telescopes, and others Pencils; some had Lawrels on their Heads, and others Buskins on their Legs: In short, there was scarce any Instrument of a Mechanick Art or Liberal Science, which was not made Use of on this Occasion. My good
Daemon,
who stood at my Right Hand during the Course of this whole Vision, observing in me a burning Desire to join that glorious Company, told me, he highly approved that generous Ardor with which I seemed transported; but at the same Time advised me to cover my Face with a Mask all the while I was to labour on the Ascent. I took his Counsel, without inquiring into his Reasons. The whole Body now broke into different Parties, and began to climb the Precipice by Ten Thousand different Paths. Several got into little Allies, which did not reach far up the Hill, before they ended and led no further: And I observed, That most of the Artizans, which considerably diminish'd our Number, fell into these Paths.
We left another considerable Body of Adventurers behind us, who thought they had discovered By-Ways up the Hill, which proved so very intricate and perplexed, that after having advanced in them a little, they were quite lost among the several Turns and Windings; and tho' they were as active as any in their Motions, they made but little Progress in the Ascent. These, as my Guide informed me, were Men of subtle Tempers, and puzzled Politicks, who would supply the Place of real Wisdom with Cunning and Artifice. Among those, who were far advanced in their Way, there were some that by one false Step fell backward, and lost more Ground in a Moment, than they had gain'd for many Hours, or could be ever able to recover. We were now advanced very high, and observed, That all the different Paths which ran about the Sides of the Mountain, began to meet in Two great Roads, which insensibly gather'd the whole Multitude of Travellers into Two great Bodies. At a little Distance from the Entrance of each Road, there stood an hideous Phantom, that opposed our further Passage. One of these Apparitions had his Right Hand filled with Darts, which he brandished in the Face of all who came up that Way. Crowds ran back at the Appearance of it, and cried out,
Death.
The Spectre that guarded the other Road, was
Envy:
She was not armed with Weapons of Destruction like the former; but by dreadful Hissings, Noises of Reproach, and a horrid distracted Laughter, she appeared more frightful than Death it self, insomuch that Abundance of our Company were discouraged from passing any further, and some appeared ashamed of having come so far. As for my self, I must confess my Heart shrunk within me at the Sight of these ghastly Appearances: But on a sudden, the Voice of the Trumpet came more full upon us, so that we felt a new Resolution reviving in us; and in Proportion as this Resolution grew, the Terrors before us seem'd to vanish. Most of the Company who had Swords in their Hands, marched on with great Spirit, and an Air of Defiance, up the Road that was commanded by Death; while others, who had Thought and Contemplation in their Looks, went forward in a more composed Manner up the Road possessed by
Envy.
The Way above these Apparitions grew smooth and uniform, and was so delightful, that the Travellers went on with Pleasure, and in a little Time arrived at the Top of the Mountain. They here began to breath a delicious kind of Aether, and saw all the Fields about them covered with a kind of Purple Light, that made them reflect with Satisfaction on their past Toils, and diffused a secret Joy through the whole Assembly, which shewed it self in every Look and Feature. In the Midst of these happy Fields there stood a Palace of a very glorious Structure: It had Four great Folding-Doors, that faced the Four several Quarters of the World. On the Top of it was enthron'd the Goddess of the Mountain, who smiled upon her Votaries, and sounded the Silver Trumpet which had called them up, and cheared them in their Passage to her Palace. They had now formed themselves into several Divisions, a Band of Historians taking their Stations at each Door, according to the Persons whom they were to introduce.
On a sudden, the Trumpet, which had hitherto sounded only a March, or a Point of War, now swell'd all its Notes into Triumph and Exultation: The whole Fabrick shook, and the Doors flew open. The first who stepped forward, was a beautiful and blooming Hero, and as I heard by the Murmurs round me,
Alexander the Great.
He was conducted by a Crowd of Historians. The Person who immediately walked before him, was remarkable for an embroider'd Garment, who not being well acquainted with the Place, was conducting him to an Apartment appointed for the Reception of fabulous Heroes. The Name of this false Guide was
Quintus Curtius:
But
Arrian
and
Plutarch,
who knew better the Avenues of this Palace, conducted him into the great Hall, and placed him at the upper End of the First Table. My good Daemon, that I might see the whole Ceremony, conveyed me to a Corner of this Room, where I might perceive all that passed without being seen my self. The next who entered was a Charming Virgin, leading in a venerable old Man that was blind. Under her Left Arm she bore a Harp, and on her Head a Garland.
Alexander,
who was very well acquainted with
Homer,
stood up at his Entrance, and placed him on his Right Hand. The Virgin, who it seems was one of the Nine Sisters that attended on the Goddess of
Fame,
smiled with an ineffable Grace at their Meeting, and retired.
Julius Caesar
was now coming forward; and tho' most of the Historians offered their Service to introduce him, he left them at the Door, and would have no Conductor but himself.
The next who advanced, was a Man of a homely but chearful Aspect, and attended by Persons of greater Figure than any that appeared on this Occasion.
Plato
was on his Right Hand, and
Xenophon
on his Left. He bowed to
Homer,
and sate down by him. It was expected that
Plato
would himself have taken a Place next to his Master
Socrates;
but on a sudden there was heard a great Clamour of Disputants at the Door, who appeared with
Aristotle
at the Head of them. That Philosopher, with some Rudeness, but great Strength of Reason, convinced the whole Table, that a Title to the Fifth Place was his Due, and took it accordingly.
He had scarce sate down, when the same beautiful Virgin that had introduced
Homer
brought in another, who hung back at the Entrance, and would have excused himself, had not his Modesty been overcome by the Invitation of all who sate at the Table. His Guide and Behaviour made me easily conclude it was
Virgil. Cicero
next appeared, and took his Place. He had inquired at the Door for one
Luc
us
to introduce him; but not finding him there, he contented himself with the Attendance of many other Writers, who all (except
Sallust
) appeared highly pleased with the Office.
We waited some Time in Expectation of the next Worthy, who came in with a great Retinue of Historians, whose Names I could not learn, most of them being Natives of
Carthage.
The Person thus conducted, who was
Hannibal,
seemed much disturbed, and could not forbear complaining to the Board of the Affronts he had met with among the
Roman
Historians, who attempted, says he, to carry me into the Subterraneous Apartment; and perhaps would have done it, had it not been for the Impartiality of this Gentleman, pointing to
Polybius,
who was the only Person, except my own Countrymen, that was willing to conduct me hither.
The
Carthaginian
took his Seat, and
Pompey
entered with great Dignity in his own Person, and preceded by several Historians.
Lucan
the Poet was at the Head of them, who observing
Homer
and
Virgil
at the Table, was going to sit down himself, had not the latter whisper'd him, That whatever Pretence he might otherwise have had, he forfeited his Claim to it, by coming in as one of the Historians.
Lucan
was so exasperated with the Repulse, that he muttered something to himself, and was heard to say, That since he could not have a Seat among them himself, he would bring in one who alone had more Merit than their whole Assembly: Upon which he went to the Door, and brought in
Cato
of
Utica.
That great Man approached the Company with such an Air, that showed he contemned the Honour which he laid a Claim to. Observing the Seat opposite to
Caesar
was vacant, he took Possession of it, and spoke Two or Three smart Sentences upon the Nature of Precedency, which, according to him, consisted not in Place, but in intrinsick Merit; to which he added, That the most virtuous Man, wherever he was seated, was always at the Upper End of the Table.
Socrates,
who had a great Spirit of Raillery with his Wisdom, could not forbear smiling at a Virtue which took so little Pains to make it self agreeable.
Cicero
took the Occasion to make a long Discourse in Praise of
Cato,
which he uttered with much Vehemence.
Caesar
answer'd him with a great deal of seeming Temper; but as I stood at a great Distance from them, I was not able to hear one Word of what they said. But I could not forbear taking Notice, That in all the Discourse which passed at the Table, a Word or Nod from
Homer
decided the Controversy.
After a short Pause,
Augustus
appeared, looking round him with a serene and affable Countenance upon all the Writers of his Age, who strove among themselves which of them should show him the greatest Marks of Gratitude and Respect.
Virgil
rose from the Table to meet him; and though he was an acceptable Guest to all, he appeared more such to the Learned, than the Military Worthies. The next Man astonish'd the whole Table with his Appearance: He was slow, solemn, and silent, in his Behaviour, and wore a Raimens curiously wrought with Hieroglyphicks. As he came into the middle of the Room, he threw back the Skirt of it, and discovered a Golden Thigh.
Socrates,
at the Sight of it, declared against keeping Company with any who were not made of Flesh and Blood; and therefore desired
Diogenes
the
Laertian
to lead him to the Apartment allotted for Fabulous Heroes, and Worthies of dubious Existence. At his going out, he told them, That they did not know whom they dismissed; that he was now
Pythagoras,
the First of Philosophers, and that formerly he had been a very brave Man at the Siege of
Troy.
That may be very true, said
Socrates;
but you forgot that you have likewise been a very great Harlot in your Time. This Exclusion made Way for
Archimedes,
who came forward with a Scheme of Mathematical Figures in his Hand; among which, I observ'd a Cone and a Cylinder.
Seeing this Table full, I desired my Guide for Variety to lead me to the Fabulous Apartment, the Roof of which was painted with Gorgons, Chimaera's, and Centaurs, with many other Emblematical Figures, which I wanted both Time and Skill to unriddle. The First Table was almost full: At the upper End sat
Hercules
leaning an Arm upon his Club; on his Right Hand were
Achilles
and
Ulysses,
and between them
Aeneas;
on his Left were
Hector, Theseus.
and
Jason:
The lower End had
Orpheus, Aesop, Phalaris,
and
Musaeus.
The Usher seem'd at a Loss for a Twelfth Man, when, methought, to my great Joy and Surprize, I heard some at the lower End of the Table mention
Isaac Bickerstaff:
But those of the upper End receiv'd it with Disdain, and said, If they must have a
British
Worthy, they would have
Robin Hood.
While I was transported with the Honour that was done me, and burning with Envy against my Competitor, I was awaken'd by the Noise of the Cannon which were then fired for the taking of
Mons.
I should have been very much troubled at being thrown out of so pleasing a Vision on any other Occasion; but thought it an agreeable Change to have my Thoughts diverted from the Greatest among the Dead and Fabulous Heroes, to the most Famous among the Real and the Living.
The TATLER. [No 82.
Ubi idem & maximus & honestissimus Amor est, aliquando praestat Morte jungi, quam Vitâ distrahi.
Val. Max.
From
Saturd. Octob.
15. to
Tuesd. Octob.
18. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
October 17.
AFter the Mind has been employ'd on Contemplations suitable to its Greatness, it is unnatural to run into sudden Mirth or Levity; but we must let the Soul subside as it rose, by proper Degrees. My late Considerations of the ancient Heroes impressed a certain Gravity upon my Mind, which is much above the little Gratification receiv'd from Starts of Humour and Fancy, and threw me into a pleasing Sadness. In this State of Thought I have been looking at the Fire, and in a pensive Manner reflecting upon the great Misfortunes and Calamities incident to Humane Life; among which there are none that touch so sensibly as those which befal Persons who eminently love, and meet with fatal Interruptions of their Happiness when they least expect it. The Piety of Children to Parents, and the Affection of Parents to their Children, are the Effects of Instinct; but the Affection between Lovers and Friends is founded on Reason and Choice, which has always made me think, the Sorrows of the latter much more to be pitied than those of the former. The Contemplation of Distresses of this Sort softens the Mind of Man, and makes the Heart better. It extinguishes the Seeds of Envy and ill Will towards Mankind, corrects the Pride of Prosperity, and beats down all that Fierceness and Insolence which are apt to get into the Minds of the Daring and Fortunate.
For this Reason the wise
Athenians,
in their Theatrical Performances, laid before the Eyes of the People the greatest Afflictions which could befal Humane Life, and insensibly polish'd their Tempers by such Representations. Among the Modern, indeed there has arose a Chimerical Method of disposing the Fortune of the Persons represented, according to what they call Poetical Justice; and letting none be unhappy but those who deserve it. In such Cases, an intelligent Spectator, if he is concern'd, knows he ought not to be so; and can learn nothing from such a Tenderness, but that he is a weak Creature, whose Passions cannot follow the Dictates of his Understanding. It is very natural, when one is got into such a Way of Thinking, to recollect those Examples of Sorrow which have made the strongest Impression upon our Imaginations. An Instance or Two of such you'll give me Leave to communicate.
A young Gentleman and Lady of ancient and honourable Houses in
Cornwall,
had from their Childhood entertained for each other a generous and noble Passion, which had been long opposed by their Friends, by Reason of the Inequality of their Fortunes; but their Constancy to each other, and Obedience to those on whom they depended, wrought so much upon their Relations, that these celebrated Lovers were at length joined in Marriage. Soon after their Nuptials, the Bridegroom was obliged to go into a Foreign Country, to take Care of a considerable Fortune which was left him by a Relation, and came very opportunely to improve their moderate Circumstances. They received the Congratulations of all the Country on this Occasion; and I remember it was a common Sentence in every one's Mouth,
You see how faithful Love is rewarded.
He took this agreeable Voyage, and sent Home every Post fresh Accounts of his Success in his Affairs Abroad; but at last (though he designed to return with the next Ship) he lamented in his Letters, that Business would detain him some Time longer from Home, because he would give himself the Pleasure of an unexpected Arrival.
The young Lady, after the Heat of the Day, walked every Evening on the Sea-Shore, near which she lived, with a familiar Friend, her Husband's Kinswoman, and diverted her self with what Objects they met there, or upon Discourses of the future Methods of Life in the happy Change of their Circumstances. They stood one Evening on the Shore together in a perfect Tranquility, observing the Setting of the Sun, the calm Face of the Deep, and the silent Heaving of the Waves which gently rolled towards them, and broke at their Feet; when at a Distance her Kinswoman saw something float on the Waters, which she fancied was a Chest; and with a Smile told her, she saw it first, and if it came ashore full of Jewels, she had a Right to it. They both fixed their Eyes upon it, and entertained themselves with the Subject of the Wreck, the Cousin still asserting her Right; but promising, if it was a Prize, to give her a very rich Coral for the Child, of which she was then big, provided she might be Godmother. Their Mirth soon abated, when they observ'd upon the nearer Approach, that it was a humane Body. The young Lady, who had a Heart naturally filled with Pity and Compassion, made many melancholy Reflections on the Occasion. Who knows (said she) but this Man may be the only Hope and Heir of a wealthy House; the Darling of indulgent Parents, who are now in impertinent Mirth, and pleasing themselves with the Thoughts of offering him a Bride they have got ready for him? Or, may he not be the Master of a Family that wholly depended upon his Life? There may, for ought we know, be half a Dozen Fatherless Children, and a tender Wife, now expos'd to Poverty by his Death. What Pleasure might he have promised himself in the different Welcome he was to have from her and them? But let us go away, 'tis a dreadful Sight! The best Office we can do, is to take Care that the poor Man, whoever he is, may be decently buried. She turned away when a Wave threw the Carcass on the Shore. The Kinswoman immediately shriek'd out, Oh, my Cousin! and fell upon the Ground. The unhappy Wife went to help her Friend, when she saw her own Husband at her Feet, and dropt in a Swoon upon the Body. An old Woman, who had been the Gentleman's Nurse, came out about this Time to call the Ladies in to Supper, and found her Child (as she always called him) dead on the Shore, her Mistress and Kinswoman both lying dead by him. Her loud Lamentations, and calling her young Master to Life, soon awaked the Friend from her Trance; but the Wife was gone for ever.
When the Family and Neighbourhood got together round the Bodies, no one asked any Question, but the Objects before them told the Story.
Incidents of this Nature are the more moving, when they are drawn by Persons concerned in the Catastrophe, notwithstanding they are often oppressed beyond the Power of giving them in a distinct Light, except we gather their Sorrow from their Inability to speak it.
I have Two Original Letters written both on the same Day, which are to me exquisite in their different Kinds. The Occasion was this: A Gentleman who had courted a most agreeable young Woman, and won her Heart, obtained also the Consent of her Father, to whom she was an only Child. The old Man had a Fancy that they should be married in the same Church where he himself was, in a Village in
Westmorland,
and made 'em set out while he was laid up with the Gout at
London.
The Bridegroom took only his Man, the Bride her Maid. They had the most agreeable Journey imaginable to the Place of Marriage: From whence the Bridegroom writ the following Letter to his Wife's Father:
March 18. 1672.
SIR,
AFter a very pleasant Journey hither, we are preparing for the happy Hour in which I am to be your Son. I assure you the Bride carries it, in the Eye of the Vicar who married you, much beyond her Mother; though he says, your open Sleeves, Pantaloons, and Shoulder-Knot, made a much better Show than the finnikal Dress I am in. However, I am contented to be the Second Fine Man this Village ever saw, and shall make it very merry before Night, because I shall write my self from thence,
Your most Dutiful Son,
T. D.
The Bride gives her Duty, and is as handsome as on Angel—I am the happiest Man breathing.
The Villagers were assembling about the Church, and the happy Couple took a Walk in a private Garden. The Bridegroom's Man knew his Master would leave the Place on a sudden after the Wedding, and seeing him draw his Pistols the Night before, took this Opportunity to go into his Chamber, and charge them. Upon their Return from the Garden, they went into that Room; and after a little sond Raillery on the Subject of their Courtship, the Lover took up a Pistol, which he knew he had unloaded the Night before, and presenting it to her, said with the most graceful Air, whilst she look'd pleased at his agreeable Flattery, Now, Madam, repent of all those Cruelties you have been guilty of to me; consider before you die, how often you have made a poor Wretch freeze under your Casement; you shall die, you Tyrant, you shall die, with all those Instruments of Death and Destruction about you, with that inchanting Smile, those killing Ringlets of your Hair—Give Fire, said she, laughing. He did so, and shot her dead. Who can speak his Condition? But he bore it so patiently as to call up his Man. The poor Wretch enter'd, and his Master lock'd the Door upon him.
Will.
said he, Did you charge these Pistols? He answer'd, Yes. Upon which he shot him dead with that remaining. After this, amidst a Thousand broken Sobs, piercing Groans, and distracted Motions, he writ the following Letter to the Father of his dead Mistress.
SIR,
I Who Two Hours ago told you truly I was the happiest Man alive, am now the most miserable. Your Daughter lies dead at my Feet, kill'd by my Hand, through a Mistake of my Man's charging my Pistols unknown to me. Him I have murder'd for it. Such is my Wedding-Day—I will immediately follow my Wife to her Grave: But before I throw my self upon my Sword, I command my Distraction so far as to explain my Story to you. I fear my Heart will not keep together till I have stabb'd it. Poor good old Man!—Remember, he that killed your Daughter, died for it. In the Article of Death I give you my Thanks, and pray for you, though I dare not for my self. If it be possible, do not curse me.
The TATLER. [No 83.
Senilis Stultitia, quae Deliratio appellari solet, Senum levium est non omnium.
M. T. C.
From
Tuesd. Oct.
18. to
Thursd. Oct.
20. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Octob. 19.
IT is my frequent Practice to visit Places of Resort in this Town where I am least known, to observe what Reception my Works meet with in the World, and what good Effects I may promise my self from my Labours: And it being a Privilege asserted by Monsieur
Montaigne
and others, of vain-glorious Memory, That we Writers of Essays may talk of our selves; I take the Liberty to give an Account of the Remarks which I find are made by some of my gentle Readers upon these my Dissertations.
I happen'd this Evening to fall into a Coffee-house near the
'Change,
where Two Persons were reading my Account of the Table of
Fame.
The one of these was commenting as he read, and explaining who was meant by this and t'other Worthy as he passed on. I observ'd the Person overagainst him wonderfully intent and satisfied with his Explanation. When he came to
Julius Caesar,
who is said to have refused any Conductor to the Table; No no, said he, he is in the right of it, he has Money enough to be welcome wherever he comes; and then whispered, He means a certain Colonel of the Train-Bands. Upon reading, that
Aristotle
made his Claim with some Rudeness, but great Strength of Reason; Who can that be, so rough and so reasonable? It must be some Whig, I warrant you. There is nothing but Party in these publick Papers. Where
Pythagoras
is said to have a Golden Thigh; Ay, ay, said he, he has Money enough in his Breeches; that is the Alderman of our Ward. You must know, whatever he read, I found he interpreted from his own Way of Life and Acquaintance. I am glad my Readers can construe for themselves these difficult Points; but for the Benefit of Posterity, I design, when I come to write my last Paper of this Kind, to make it an Explanation of all my former. In that Piece, you shall have all I have commended, with their proper Names. The faulty Characters must be left as they are, because we live in an Age wherein Vice is very general, and Virtue very particular; for which Reason the latter only wants Explanation.
But I must turn my present Discourse to what is of yet greater Regard to me than the Care of my Writings; that is to say, the Preservation of a Lady's Heart. Little did I think I should ever have Business of this Kind on my Hands more; but as little as any one who knows me would believe it, there is a Lady at this Time who professes Love to me. Her Passion and good Humour you shall have in her own Words.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
I Had formerly a very good Opinion of my self; but it is now withdrawn, and I have placed it upon you, Mr.
Bickerstaff,
for whom I am not ashamed to declare, I have a very great Passion and Tenderness. 'Tis not for your Face, for that I never saw; your Shape and Height I am equally a Stranger to: But your Understanding charms me, and I'm lost if you don't dissemble a little Love for me. I am not without Hopes, because I am not like the tawdry gay Things that are fit only to make Bone Lace. I am neither Childish young, nor Beldam-old, but (the World says) a good agreeable Woman.
Speak Peace to a troubled Heart, troubled only for you; and in your next Paper let me find your Thoughts of me.
Don't think of finding out who I am, for notwithstanding your Interest in Damons, they cannot help you either to my Name, or a Sight of my Face; therefore don't let them deceive you.
I can bear no Discourse if you are not the Subject; and, believe me, I know more of Love than you do of Astronomy.
Pray say some civil Things in return to my Generosity, and you shall have my very best Pen imployed to thank you, and I will confirm it. I am
Your Admirer,
Maria.
There is something wonderfully pleasing in the Favour of Women; and this Letter has put me in so good an Humour, that nothing could displease me since I received it. My Boy breaks Glasses and Pipes, and instead of giving him a Knock of the Pate, as my Way is, (for I hate scolding at Servants,) I only say,
Ah,
Jack!
Thou hast a Head, and so has a Pin;
or some such merry Expression. But alas! How am I mortified when he is putting on my fourth Pair of Stockings on these poor Spindles of mine?
The Fair One understands Love better than I Astronomy!
I am sure, without the Help of that Art, this poor meagre Trunk of mine is a very ill Habitation for Love. She is pleased to speak civilly of my Sense; but
Ingenium male habitat
is an invincible Difficulty in Cases of this Nature. I had always indeed, from a Passion to please the Eyes of the Fair, a great Pleasure in Dress. Add to this, That I have writ Songs since I was Sixty, and have lived with all the Circumspection of an old Beau, as I am: But my Friend
Horace
has very well said,
Every Year takes something
from us;
and instructed me to form my Pursuits and Desires according to the Stage of my Life: Therefore I have no more to value my self upon, than that I can converse with young People without Peevishness, or wishing my self a Moment younger. For which Reason, when I am amongst 'em, I rather moderate than interrupt their Diversions. But though I have this Complacency, I must not pretend to write to a Lady civil Things, as
Maria
desires. Time was, when I could have told her, I had received a Letter from her Fair Hands; and, That if this Paper trembled as she read it, it then best expressed its Author, or some other gay Conceit. Though I never saw her, I could have told her, That good Sense and good Humour smiled in her Eyes; That Constancy and good Nature dwelt in her Heart; That Beauty and good Breeding appeared in all her Actions. When I was Five and Twenty, upon Sight of one Syllable, even wrong spelt, by a Lady I never saw, I could tell her, That her Height was that which was fit for inviting our Approach, and commanding our Respect; That a Smile sate on her Lips, which prefaced her Expressions before she uttered them, and her Aspect prevented her Speech. All she could say, though she had an infinite deal of Wit, was but a Repetition of what was expressed by her Form; her Form, which struck her Beholders with Ideas more moving and forcible, than ever were inspired by Musick, Painting, or Eloquence. At this Rate I panted in those Days; but, Ah! Sixty Three! I am very sorry I can only return the agreeable
Maria
a Passion, expressed rather from the Head than the Heart.
Dear Madam,
YOU have already seen the best of me, and I so passionately love you, that I desire we may never meet. If you will examine your Heart, you will find, that you join the Man with the Philosopher: And if you have that kind Opinion of my Sense as you pretend, I question not, but you add to it Complexion, Air, and Shape: But, dear
Molly,
a Man in his Grand Climacterick is of no Sex. Be a good Girl; and conduct your self with Honour and Virtue, when you love one younger than my self, I am, with the greatest Tenderness,
Your innocent Lover,
I. B.
Will's Coffee-house,
October 19.
There is nothing more common than the Weaknesses mention'd in the following Epistle; and I believe there is hardly a Man living who has not been more or less injured by it.
Land's-End,
Oct. 12.
SIR,
I Have left the Town some Time; and much the sooner, for not having had the Advantage, when I lived there, of so good a Pilot as you are to this present Age. Your Cautions to the young Men against the Vices of the Town are very well: But there is one not less needful, which I think you have omitted. I had from the Rough Diamond, (a Gentleman so called from an honest blunt Wit he had,) not long since dead, this Observation, That a young Man must be at least Three or Four Years in
London
before he dares say,
No.
You will easily see the Truth and Force of this Observation; for I believe, more People are drawn away against their Inclinations, than with them. A young Man is afraid to deny any Body going to a Tavern to Dinner; or after being gorged there, to repeat the same with another Company at Supper, or to drink excessively if desired, or go to any other Place, or commit any other Extravagancy proposed. The Fear of being thought covetous, to have no Money, or to be under the Dominion or Fear of his Parents and Friends, hinder him from the free Exercise of his Understanding, and affirming boldly the true Reason, which is, his real Dislike of what is desired. If you could cure this slavish Facility, it would save Abundance at their first Entrance into the World. I am,
SIR,
Yours,
Solomon Afterwit.
This Epistle has given an Occasion to a Treatise on this Subject, wherein I shall lay down Rules when a young Stripling is to say,
No,
and a young Virgin,
Yes.
N. B.
For the Publication of this Discourse, I wait only for Subscriptions from the Under-Graduates of each University, and the young Ladies in the Boarding-Schools of
Hackney
and
Chelsea.
St. James's Coffee-house,
October 19.
Letters from the
Hague
of the 25th of
October, N. S.
advise, That the Garrison of
Mons
marched out on the 23d Instant, and a Garrison of the Allies marched into the Town. All the Forces in the Field, both of the Enemy and the Confederates, are preparing to withdraw into Winter Quarters.
The TATLER. [No 84.
From
Thursd. Octob.
20. to
Saturd. Octob.
22. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
October 21.
I Have received a Letter subscribed
A. B.
wherein it has been represented to me as an Enormity, That there are more than ordinary Crowds of Women at the
Old-Baily
when a Rape is to be try'd: But by Mr.
A. B.
's Favour, I can't tell who are so much concern'd in that Part of the Law as the Sex he mentions, they being the only Persons liable to such Insults. Nor indeed do I think it more unreasonable that they should be inquisitive on such Occasions, than Men of Honour, when one is try'd for killing another in a Duel. It is very natural to enquire how the fatal Pass was made, that we may the better defend our selves when we come to be attack'd. Several eminent Ladies appeared lately at the Court of Justice on such an Occasion, and with great Patience and Attention stayed the whole Trials of two Persons for the abovesaid Crime. The Law to me indeed seems a little defective in this Point; and it is a very great Hardship, that this Crime, which is committed by Men only, should have Men only on their Jury. I humbly therefore propose, That on future Tryals of this Sort, half of the Twelve may be Women; and those such whose Faces are well known to have taken Notes, or may be supposed to remember what happened in former Trials in the same Place. There is the learned
Androgyne,
that would make a good Fore-woman of the Pannel, who (by long Attendance) understands as much Law and Anatomy as is necessary in this Case. Till this is taken Care of, I am humbly of Opinion, it would be much more expedient that the Fair were wholly absent: For to what End can it be, that they should be present at such Examinations, when they can only be perplexed with a Fellow-feeling for the Injured, without any Power to avenge their Sufferings. It is an unnecessary Pain which the Fair Ones give themselves on these Occasions. I have known a young Woman shriek out at some Parts of the Evidence; and have frequently observ'd, That when the Proof grew particular and strong, there has been such an universal Flutter of Fans, that one would think the whole Female Audience were falling into Fits. Nor indeed can I see how Men themselves can be wholly unmov'd at such Tragical Relations.
In short, I must tell my Female Readers, and they may take an old Man's Word for it, That there is nothing in Woman so graceful and becoming as Modesty: It adds Charms to their Beauty, and gives a new Softness to their Sex. Without it, Simplicity and Innocence appear rude, Reading and good Sense masculine, Wit and Honour lascivious. This is so necessary a Qualification for pleasing, that the loose Part of Womankind, whose Study it is to insnare Men's Hearts, never fail to support the Appearance of what they know is so essential to that End: And I have heard it reported by the young Fellows in my Time, as a Maxim of the celebrated Madam
Bennet,
That a young Wench, tho' never so beautiful, was not worth her Board when he was past her Blushing. This Discourse naturally brings into my Thoughts a Letter I had received from the virtuous Lady
Whittlestick
on the Subject of
Lucretia.
From my Tea-Table,
Octob. 17.
Cousin Isaac,
I Read your
Tatler
of
Saturday
last, and was surpriz'd to see you so partial to your own Sex, as to think none of ours worthy to sit at your First Table; for sure you can't but own
Lucretia
as famous as any you have placed there, who first parted with her Virtue, and afterwards with her Life, to preserve her Fame.
Mrs.
Biddy Twig
has written me a Letter to the same Purpose: But in Answer to both my pretty Correspondents and Kinswomen, I must tell 'em, That although I know
Lucretia
would have made a very graceful Figure at the upper End of the Table, I did not think it proper to place her there, because I knew she would not eare for being in the Company of so many Men without her Husband. At the same Time I must own, that
Tarquin
himself was not a greater Lover and Admirer of
Lucretia
than I my self am in an honest Way. When my Sister
Jenny
was in her Sampler, I made her get the whole Story without Book, and tell it me in Needle-work. This illustrious Lady stands up in History, as the Glory of her own Sex, and the Reproach of ours; and the Circumstances under which she fell were so very particular, that they seem to make Adultery and Murder meritorious. She was a Woman of such transcendent Virtue, that her Beauty, which was the greatest of the Age and Country in which she lived, and is generally celebrated as the highest of Praise in other Women, is never mentioned as a Part of her Character. But it would be declaiming to dwell upon so celebrated a Story, which I mentioned only in Respect to my Kinswoman; and to make Reparation for the Omission they complain of, do further promise 'em, That if they can furnish me with Instances to fill it, there shall be a small Tea-Table set apart in my Palace of Fame for the Reception of all of her Character.
Grecian Coffee-house,
October 21.
I was this Evening communicating my Design of producing obscure Merit into publick View; and proposed to the Learned, that they would
lease to assist me in the Work. For the same End I publish my Intention to the World, That all Men of liberal Thoughts may know they have an Opportunity of doing Justice to such worthy Persons as have come within their respective Observation, and who by Misfortune, Modesty, or Want of proper Writers to recommend 'em, have escaped the Notice of the rest of Mankind. If therefore any one can bring any Tale or Tidings of illustrious Persons, or glorious Actions, that are not commonly known, he is desired to send an Account thereof to me at
J. Morphew
's, and they shall have Justice done 'em. At the same Time that I have this Concern for Men and Things that deserve Reputation and have it not, I am resolved to examine into the Claims of such Ancients and Moderns as are in Possession of it, with a Design to displace them, in case I find their Titles defective. The first whose Merits I shall enquire into, are some merry Gentlemen of the
French
Nation, who have written very advantagious Histories of their Exploits in War, Love and Politicks, under the Title of
Memoirs.
I am afraid I shall find several of these Gentlemen tardy, because I hear of them in no Writings but their own. To read the Narrative of one of these Authors, you would fancy that there was not an Action in a whole Campaign, which he did not contrive or execute; yet if you consult the History, or
Gazettes
of those Times, you do not find him so much at the Head of a Party from one End of the Summer to the other. But it is the Way of these Great Men, when they lie behind their Lines, and are in a Time of Inaction, as they call it, to pass away their Time in writing their Exploits. By this Means, several who are either unknown or despised in the present Age, will be famous in the next, unless a sudden Stop be put to such pernicious Practices. There are others of that gay People, who (as I am informed) will live half a Year together in a Garret, and write an History of their Intrigues in the Court of
France.
As for Politicians, they do not abound with that Species of Men so much as we; but as ours are not so famous for writing, as for extemporary Dissertations in Coffee-houses, they are more annoy'd with Memoirs of this Nature also than we are. The most immediate Remedy that I can apply to prevent this growing Evil; is, that I do hereby give Notice to all Booksellers and Translators whatsoever, That the Word
Memoir
is
French
for a Novel; and to require of them, That they sell and translate it accordingly.
Will's Coffee-house,
October 21.
Coming into this Place to Night, I met an old Friend of mine, who, a little after the Restoration, writ an Epigram with some Applause, which he has lived upon ever since; and by Vertue of it, has been a constant Frequenter of this Coffee-house for Forty Years. He took me aside, and with a great deal of Friendship told me, He was glad to see me alive; for says he, Mr.
Bickerstaff,
I am sorry to find you have raised many Enemies by your Lucubrations. There are indeed some, says he, whose Enmity is the greatest Honour they can shew a Man; but have you lived to these Years, and don't know, that the ready Way to disoblige, is to give Advice? You may endeavour to guard your Children, as you call them, but—He was going on; but I found the Disagreeableness of giving Advice without being asked it, by my own Impatience of what he was about to say. In a Word, I begged him to give me the Hearing of a short Fable.
A Gentleman (says I) who was one Day slumbering in an Arbor, was on a sudden awakene
by the gentle Biting of a Lizard, a little Anima
remarkable for its Love to Mankind. He thre
it from his Hand with some Indignation, an
was rising up to kill it, when he saw an hug
venemous Serpent sliding towards him on the other Side, which he soon destroyed; reflecting afterwards with Gratitude upon his Friend that sav'd him, and with Anger against himself, that had shown so little Sense of a good Office.
The TATLER. [No 85.
From
Saturd. Octob.
22. to
Tuesd. Octob.
25. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
October 24.
MY Brother
Tranquillus,
who is a Man of Business, came to me this Morning into my Study, and after very many civil Expressions in Return for what good Offices I had done him, told me, he desired to carry his Wife my Sister that very Morning to his own House. I readily told him I would wait upon him, without asking why he was so impatient to rob us of his good Company. He went out of my Chamber, and I thought seem'd to have a little Heaviness upon him, which gave me some Disquiet. Soon after, my Sister came to me with a very Matron-like Air, and most sedate Satisfaction in her Looks, which spoke her very much at Ease; but the Traces of her Countenance seem'd to discover that she had been lately in a Passion, and that Air of Content to flow from a certain Triumph upon some Advantage obtained. She no sooner sate down by me, but I perceived she was one of those Ladies who begin to be Managers within the Time of their being Brides.—Without letting her speak, (which I saw she had a mighty Inclination to do) I said, Here has been your Husband, who tells me he has a Mind to go Home this very Morning; and I have consented to it. It is well, said she, for you must know—Nay,
Jenny,
said I, I beg your Pardon, for 'tis you must know—You are to understand, that now is the Time to fix or alienate your Husband's Heart for ever; and I fear you have been a little indiscreet in your Expressions or Behaviour towards him, even here in my House. There has, says she, been some Words; but I'll be judge by you if he was not in the Wrong: Nay, I need not be judg'd by any Body, for he gave it up himself, and said not a Word when he saw me grow passionate, but, Madam, you are perfectly in the Right of it: As you shall judge—Nay, Madam, said I, I am Judge already, and tell you, that you are perfectly in the Wrong of it; for if it was a Matter of Importance, I know he has better Sense than you; if a Trifle, you know what I told you on your Wedding-Day, that you were to be above little Provocations. She knows very well I can be sower upon Occasion, therefore gave me Leave to go on.
Sister, said I, I will not enter into the Dispute between you, which I find his Prudence put an End to before it came to Extremity, but charge you to have a Care of the first Quarrel, as you tender your Happiness; for then it is, that the Mind will reflect harshly upon every Circumstance that has ever pass'd between you. If such an Accident is ever to happen, (which I hope never will) be sure to keep to the Circumstance before you; make no Allusions to what is pass'd, or Conclusions referring to what is to come: Don't show an Hoard of Matter for Dissention in your Breast; but if it is necessary, lay before him the Thing as you understand it, candidly, without being ashamed of acknowledging an Error, or proud of being in the Right. If a young Couple be not careful in this Point, they will get into an Habit of Wrangling: And when to Displease is thought of no Consequence, to Please is always of as little Moment. There is a Play,
Jenny,
I have formerly been at when I was a Student: We got into a dark Corner with a Porringer of Brandy, and threw Raisins into it, then set it on Fire. My Chamber-fellow and I diverted our selves with the Sport of venturing our Fingers for the Raisins; and the Wantonness of the Thing was, to see each other look like a Daemon, as we burnt our selves and snatched out the Fruit. This fantastical Mirth was called
Snap-Dragon.
You may go into many a Family, where you see the Man and Wife at this Sport: Every Word at their Table alludes to some Passage between themselves; and you see by the Paleness and Emotion in their Countenance, that it is for your Sake, and not their own, that they forbear playing out the whole Game, in burning each others Fingers. In this Case, the whole Purpose of Life is inverted, and the Ambition turns upon a certain Contention, who shall contradict best, and not upon an Inclination to excel in Kindnesses and good Offices. Therefore, dear
Jenny,
remember me, and avoid
Snap-Dragon.
I thank you Brother, (said she) but you don't know how he loves me; I find I can do any Thing with him. If you can so, Why should you desire to do any Thing but please him? But I have a Word or Two more before you go out of the Room; for I see you do not like the Subject I am upon. Let nothing provoke you to fall upon an Imperfection he cannot help; for if he has a resenting Spirit, he will think your Aversion as immoveable as the Imperfection with which you upbraid him. But above all, dear
Jenny,
be careful of one Thing, and you will be something more than Woman, that is, a Levity you are almost all guilty of, which is, to take a Pleasure in your Power to give Pain. It is ev'n in a Mistress an Argument of Meanness of Spirit, but in a Wife it is Injustice and Ingratitude. When a sensible Man once observes this in a Woman, he must have a very great, or a very little, Spirit to overlook it. A Woman ought therefore to consider very often, how few Men there are who will regard a meditated Offence as a Weakness of Temper.
I was going on in my Confabulation, when
Tranquillus
entered. She cast her Eyes upon him with much Shame and Confusion, mixed with great Complacency and Love, and went up to him. He took her in his Arms, and looked so many soft Things at one Glance, that I could see he was glad I had been talking to her, sorry she had been troubled, and angry at himself that he could not disguise the Concern he was in an Hour before. After which, he says to me, with an Air aukward enough, but methought not unbecoming, I have altered my Mind, Brother; we'll live upon you a Day or Two longer. I reply'd, That's what I have been perswading
Jenny
to ask of you; but she is resolv'd never to contradict your Inclination, and refus'd me.
We were going on in that Way which one hardly knows how to express; as when Two People mean the same Thing in a nice Case, but come at it by talking as distantly from it as they can; when very opportunely came in upon us an honest inconsiderable Fellow,
Tim, Dapper,
a Gentleman well known to us both.
Tim,
is one of those who are very necessary by being very inconsiderable.
Tim.
dropt in at an Incident when we knew not how to fall into either a grave or a merry Way. My Sister took this Occasion to make off, and
Dapper
gave us an Account of all the Company he had been in to Day, who was and who was not at Home, where he visited. This
Tim.
is the Head of a Species: He is a little out of his Element in this Town; but he is a Relation of
Tranquillus,
and his Neighbour in the Country, which is the true Place of Residence for this Species. The Habit of a
Dapper,
when he is at Home, is a light Broad Cloth with Calamanco or Red Wastcoat and Breeches and it is remarkable, that their Wigs seldom hide the Collar of their Coats. They have always a peculiar Spring in their Arms, a Riggle in their Bodies, and a Trip in their Gate. All which Motions they express at once in their Drinking, Bowing, or saluting Ladies; for a distant Imitation of a forward Fop, and a Resolution to over-top him in his Way, are the distinguishing Marks of a
Dapper.
These Under-Characters of Men are Parts of the sociable World by no Means to be neglected: They are like Pegs in a Building. They make no Figure in it, but hold the Structure together, and are as absolutely necessary as the Pillars and Columns. I am sure we found it so this Morning; for
Tranquillus
and I should perhaps have look'd cold at each other the whole Day, but
Dapper
fell in with his brisk Way, shook us both by the Hand, rally'd the Bride, mistook the Acceptance he met with amongst us for extraordinary Perfection in himself, and heartily pleas'd, and was pleas'd, all the while he stay'd. His Company left us all in good Humour, and we were not such Fools as to let it sink, before we confirmed it by great Chearfulness and Openness in our Carriage the whole Evening.
White's Chocolate-house,
October 24.
I have been this Evening to visit a Lady who is a Relation of the enamour'd
Cynthio,
and there heard the melancholy News of his Death. I was in Hopes, that Fox-hunting and
October
would have recovered him from his unhappy Passion. He went into the Country with a Design to leave behind him all Thoughts of
Clarissa;
but he found that Place only more convenient to think of her without Interruption. The Country Gentlemen were very much puzzled upon his Case, and never finding him merry or loud in their Company, took him for a Roman Catholick, and immediately upon his Death seiz'd his
French
Valet-de-Chambre for a Priest; and it is generally thought in the County, it will go hard with him next Session. Poor
Cynthio
never held up his Head after having received a Letter of
Clarissa
's Marriage. The Lady who gave me this Account being far gone in Poetry and Romance, told me, If I would give her an Epitaph, she would take Care to have it placed on his Tomb; which she her self had devis'd in the following Manner: It is to be made of black Marble, and every Corner to be crowned with weeping Cupids. Their Quivers are to be hung up upon Two tall Cypress Trees, which are to grow on each Side of the Monument, and their Arrows to be laid in a great Heap, after the Manner of a Funeral Pile, on which is to lie the Body of the Deceas'd. On the Top of each Cypress is to stand the Figure of a Moaning Turtle-Dove. On the uppermost Part of the Monument, the Goddess to whom these Birds are sacred, is to sit in a dejected Posture, as weeping for the Death of her Votary. I need not tell you this Lady's Head is a little turned: However, to be rid of Importunities, I promised her an Epitaph, and told her, I would take for my Pattern that of Don
Alonzo,
who was no less famous in his Age than
Cynthio
is in ours.
The EPITAPH: Here lies Don
Alonzo,
Slain by a Wound receiv'd under His Left Pap; The Orifice of which was so Small, no Surgeon could Discover it.
READER; If thou would'st avoid so strangs A Death, Look not upon
Lucinda
's Eyes.
The TATLER. [No 86.
From
Tuesd. Octob.
25. to
Thursd. Octob.
27. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
October 25.
When I came Home last Night, my Servant delivered me the following Letter:
October 24.
SIR,
I Have Orders from Sir
Harry Quickset,
of
Staffordshire,
Bar. to acquaint you, That his Honour Sir
Harry
himself, Sir
Giles Wheelbarrow
Kt.
Thomas Rentfree
Esq
Justice of the
Quorum, Andrew Windmill
Esq
and Mr.
Nicholas Doubt
of the
Inner-Temple,
Sir
Harry
's Grandson, will wait upon you at the Hour of Nine to Morrow Morning, being
Tuesday
the 25th of
October,
upon Business which Sir
Harry
will impart to you by Word of Mouth. I thought it proper to acquaint you before-hand so many Persons of Quality came, that you might not be surpriz'd therewith. Which concludes, tho' by many Years Absence since I saw you at
Stafford,
unknown,
SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
John Thrifty.
I received this Message with less Surprize than I believe Mr.
Thrifty
imagined; for I knew the good Company too well to feel any Palpitations at their Approach: But I was in very great Concern how I should adjust the Ceremonial, and demean my self to all these great Men, who perhaps had not seen any Thing above themselves for these Twenty Years last past. I am sure that's the Case of Sir
Harry.
Besides which, I was sensible that there was a great Point in adjusting my Behaviour to the simple 'Squire, so as to give him Satisfaction, and not disoblige the Justice of the
Quorum.
The Hour of Nine was come this Morning, and I had no sooner set Chairs, (by the Steward's Letter) and
xed my Tea-Equipage, but I heard a Knock at my Door, which was opened, but no one enter'd; after which follow'd a long Silence, which was broke at last by, Sir, I beg your Pardon; I think I know better: And another Voice, Nay, good Sir
Giles
— I looked out from my Window, and saw the good Company all with their Hats off, and Arms spread, offering the Door to each other. After many Offers, they enter'd with much Solemnity, in the Order Mr.
Thrifty
was so kind as to name 'em to me. But they are now got to my Chamber-Door, and I saw my old Friend Sir
Harry
enter. I met him with all the Respect due to so reverend a Vegetable; for you are to know, that is my Sense of a Person who remains idle in the same Place for half a Century. I got him with great Success into his Chair by the Fire, without throwing down any of my Cups. The Knight-Batchelor told me, he had a great Respect for my whole Family, and would, with my Leave, place himself next to Sir
Harry,
at whose Right Hand he had sate at every Quarter-Sessions this Thirty Years, unless he was Sick. The Steward in the Rear whispered the young Templer, That's true to my Knowledge. I had the Misfortune, as they stood Cheek by Jole, to desire the simple 'Squire to sit down before the Justice of the
Quorum,
to the no small Satisfaction of the former, and Resentment of the latter: But I saw my Error too late, and got 'em as soon as I could into their Seats. Well, said I, Gentlemen, after I have told you how glad I am of this great Honour, I am to desire you to drink a Dish of Tea. They answered one and all, That they never drank Tea in a Morning. Not in a Morning! said I, staring round me. Upon which the pert Jackanapes
Nick Doubt
tipp'd me the Wink, and put out his Tongue at his Grandfather. Here followed a profound Silence, while the Steward in his Boots and Whip proposed, That we should adjourn to some Publick House, where every Body might call for what they pleas'd, and enter upon the Business. We all stood up in an Instant, and Sir
Harry
fil'd off from the Left very discreetly, countermarching behind the Chairs towards the Door: After him, Sir
Giles
in the same Manner. The simple 'Squire made a sudden Start to follow; but the Justice of the
Quorum
whipp'd between upon the Stand of the Stairs. A Maid going up with Coals made us halt, and put us into such Confusion, that we stood all in a Heap, without any visible Possibility of recovering our Order: For the young Jackanapes seem'd to make a Jest of this Matter, and had so contrived, by pressing amongst us under Pretence of making Way, that his Grandfather was got into the Middle, and he knew no Body was of Quality to stir a Step, till Sir
Harry
mov'd first. We were fix'd in this Per plexity for some Time, till we heard a very loud Noise in the Street; and Sir
Harry
asking what it was, I, to make them more, said it was Fire. Upon this, all ran down as fast as they could, without Order or Ceremony, till we got into the Street, where we drew up in very good Order, and fil'd off down
Sheer-Lane,
the impertinent Templer driving us befo e him, as in a String, and pointing to his Acquaintance who pass'd by.
I must confess I love to use People according to their own Sense of good Breeding, and therefore whipp'd in between the Justice and the simple 'Squire. He could not properly take this ill; but I over-heard him whisper the Steward, That he thought it hard that a common Conjurer should take Place of him, tho' an elder 'Squire. In this Order we marched down
Sheer-Lane,
at the upper End of which I lodge. When we came to
Temple-Bar,
Sir
Harry
and Sir
Giles
got over; but a Run of the Coaches kept the rest of us on this Side the Street: However, we all at last landed, and drew up in very good Order before
Ben. Tooke
's Shop, who favoured our Rallying with great Humanity. From hence we proceeded again, till we came to
Dick
's Coffee-house, where I designed to carry 'em. Here we were at our old Difficulty, and took up the Street upon the same Ceremony. We proceeded through the Entry, and were so necessarily kept in Order by the Situation, that we were now got into the Coffee-house it self, where, as soon as we arrived, we repeated our Civilities to each other; after which, we marched up to the high Table, which has an Ascent to it inclosed in the Middle of the Room. The whole House was alarm'd at this Entry, made up of Persons of so much State and Rusticity. Sir
Harry
call'd for a Mug of Ale, and
Dyer
's Letter. The Boy brought the Ale in an Instant; but said, they did not take in the Letter. No, (says Sir
Harry!
) Then take back your Mug; we are like indeed to have good Liquor at this House. Here the Templer tipp'd me a second Wink, and if I had not looked very grave upon him, I found he was disposed to be very familiar with me. In short, I observed after a long Pause, that the Gentlemen did not care to enter upon Business till after their Morning-Draught, for which Reason I called for a Bottle of Mum; and finding that had no Effect upon them, I ordered a Second, and a Third: After which, Sir
Harry
reached over to me, and told me in a low Voice, that the Place was too publick for Business; but he would call upon me again to Morrow Morning at my own Lodgings, and bring some more Friends with him.
Will's Coffee-house,
October 26.
Though this Place is frequented by a more mixed Company than it us'd to be formerly; yet you meet very often some whom one cannot leave without being the better for their Conversation. A Gentleman this Evening, in a dictating Manner, talked I thought very pleasingly in Praise of Modesty, in the midst of Ten or Twelve Libertines, upon whom it seemed to have had a good Effect: He represented it as the certain Indication of a great and noble Spirit. Modesty, said he, is the Virtue which makes Men prefer the Publick to their Private Interest, the Guide of every honest Undertaking, and the great Guardian of Innocence: It makes Men amiable to their Friends, and respected by their very Enemies. In all Places, and on all Occasions, it attracts Benevolence, and demands Approbation.
One might give Instances out of Antiquity, of the irresistible Force of this Quality in great Minds:
Cicereius,
and
Cneius Scipio
the Son of the great
Africanus,
were Competitors for the Office of Praetor. The Crowd followed
Cicereius,
and left
Scipio
unattended.
Cicereius
saw this with much Concern, and desiring an Audience of the People, he descended from the Place where the Candidates were to sit, in the Eye of the Multitude, pleaded for his Adversary, and with an ingenuous Modesty (which it is impossible to feign) represented to them, how much it was to their Dishonour, that a virtuous Son of
Africanus
should not be preferred to him, or any other Man whatsoever. This immediately gain'd the Election for
Scipio;
but all the Compliments and Congratulations upon it were made to
Cicereius.
It is easier in this Case to say who had the Office, than the Honour. There is no Occurrence in Life, where this Quality is not more ornamental than any other. After the Battle of
Pharsalia, Pompey
marching towards
Larissus,
the whole People of that Place come out in Procession to do him Honour. He thanked the Magistrates for their Respect to him; but desired them to perform these Ceremonies to the Conqueror. This gallant Submission to his Fortune, and Disdain of making any Appearance but like
Pompey,
was owing to his Modesty, which would not permit him to be, so disingenuous, as to give himself the Air of Prosperity, when he was in the contrary Condition.
This I say of Modesty, as it is the Virtue which preserves a Decorum in the general Course of our Life; but considering it also as it regards our meer Bodies, it is the certain Character of a great Mind. It is memorable of the mighty
Caesar,
that when he was murder'd in the Capitol, at the very Moment in which he expired, he gathered his Robe about him, that he might fall in a decent Posture. In this Manner (says my Author) he went off, not like a Man that departed out of Life, but a Deity that returned to his Abode.
The TATLER. [No 87.
From
Thursd. Octob.
27. to
Saturd. Octob.
29. 1709.
Will's Coffee-house,
October 28.
THere is nothing which I contemplate with greater Pleasure than the Dignity of humane Nature, which often shows it self in all Conditions of Life: For notwithstanding the Degeneracy and Meanness that is crept into it, there are a Thousand Occasions in which it breaks through its Original Corruption, and shows what it once was, and what it will be hereafter. I consider the Soul of Man, as the Ruin of a glorious Pile of Building; where, amidst great Heaps of Rubbish, you meet with noble Fragments of Sculpture, broken Pillars and Obelisks, and a Magnificence in Confusion. Virtue and Wisdom are continually employed in clearing the Ruins, removing these disorderly Heaps, recovering the noble Pieces that lie buried under them, and adjusting them as well as possible according to their ancient Symmetry and Beauty. A happy Education, Conversation with the finest Spirits, looking abroad into the Works of Nature, and Observations upon Mankind, are the great Assistances to this necessary and glorious Work. But even among those who have never had the Happiness of any of these Advantages, there are sometimes such Exertions of the Greatness that is natural to the Mind of Man, as show Capacities and Abilities, which only want these accidental Helps to fetch them out, and show them in a proper Light. A Plebeian Soul is still the Ruin of this glorious Edifice, though encumber'd with all its Rubbish. This Reflection rose in me from a Letter which my Servant drop'd as he was dressing me, and which he told me was communicated to him as he is an Acquaintance of some of the Persons mentioned in it. The Epistle is from one Serjeant
Hall
of the Foot-Guards. It is directed,
To Serjeant
Cabe,
in the
Coldstream
Regiment of Foot-Guards, at the
Red-Lettice
in the
Butcher-Row
near
Temple-Bar.
I was so pleased with several Touches in it, that I could not forbear shewing it to a Cluster of Criticks, who, instead of considering it in the Light I have done, examined it by the Rules of Epistolary Writing: For as these Gentlemen are seldom Men of any great Genius, they work altogether by Mechanical Rules, and are able to discover no Beauties that are not pointed out by
Bouhours
and
Rapin.
The Letter is as follows:
From the Camp before
Mons,
Sept. 26.
Comrade,
I Received Yours, and am glad your self and your Wife are in good Health, with all the rest of my Friends. Our Battalion suffered more than I could wish in the Action: But who can withstand Fate? Poor
Richard Stephenson
had his Fate with a great many more: He was killed dead before we entered the Trenches. We had above 200 of our Battalion killed and wounded: We lost 10 Serjeants, 6 are as followeth:
Jemings, Castles, Roach, Sherring, Meyrick,
and my Son
Smith.
The rest are not your Acquaintance. I have received a very bad Shot in my Head my self, but am in Hopes, and please God, I shall recover. I continue in the Field, and lie at my Colonel's Quarters.
Arthur
is very well; but I can give you no Account of
Elms;
he was in the Hospital before I came into the Field. I will not pretend to give you an Account of the Battle, knowing you have a better in the Prints. Pray give my Service to Mrs.
Cook
and her Daughter, to Mr.
Stoffet
and his Wife, and to Mr.
Lyver,
and
Thomas Hogsdon,
and to Mr.
Ragdell,
and to all my Friends and Acquaintance in general who do ask after me. My Love to Mrs.
Stephenson.
I am sorry for the sending such ill News. Her Husband was gathering a little Money together to fend to his Wife, and put it into my Hands. I have Seven Shillings and Three Pence, which I shall take Care to send her; wishing your Wife a safe Delivery, and both of you all Happiness, rest
Your assured Friend, and Comrade,
John Hall.
We had but an indifferent Breakfast, but the Mounseer sne ver had such a Dinner in all their Lives.
My kind Love to my Comrade
Hinton,
and Mrs.
Morgan,
and to
John Brown
and his Wife. I sent Two Shillings, and
Stephenson
Sixpence, to drink with you at Mr.
Cook
's; but I have heard nothing from him. It was by Mr.
Edgar.
Corporal
Hartwell
desires to be remember'd to you, and desires you to enquire of
Edgar,
what is become of his Wife
Pegg;
and when you write, to send Word in your Letter what Trade she drives.
We have here very bad Weather, which I doubt will be a Hindrance to the Siege; but I am in Hopes we shall be Masters of the Town in a little Time, and then I believe we shall go to Garrison.
I saw the Criticks prepared to nibble at my Letter; therefore examined it my self, partly in their Way, and partly my own. This is (said I) truly a
Letter,
and an honest Representation of that chearful Heart which accompanies the poor Soldier in his Warfare. Is not there in this all the Topick of submitting to our Destiny as well discussed, as if a greater Man had been placed, like
Brutus,
in his Tent at Midnight, reflecting on all the Occurrences of past Life, and saying fine Things on Being it self? What Serjeant
Hall
knows of the Matter, is, that he wishes there had not been so many killed, and he had himself a very bad Shot in the Head, and should recover if it pleased God. But be that as it will, he takes Care, like a Man of Honour, as he certainly is, to let the Widow
Stephenson
know, that he had Seven and Threepence for her; and that if he lives, he is sure he shall go into Garrison at last. I doubt not but all the good Company at the
Red-Lettice
drank his Health with as much real Esteem as we do any of our Friends. All that I am concerned for, is, that Mrs.
Peggy
Hartwell
may be offended at showing this Letter, because her Conduct in Mr.
Hartwell
's Absence is a little enquired into. But I could not sink that Circumstance, because you Criticks would have lost one of the Parts which I doubt not but you have much to say upon, Whether the Familiar Way is well hit in this Style or not? As for my self, I take a very particular Satisfaction in seeing any Letter that is fit only for those to read who are concern'd in it, but especially on such a Subject.
If we consider the Heap of an Army, utterly out of all Prospect of Rising and Preferment, as they certainly are, and such great Things executed by them, it is hard to account for the Motive of their Gallantry. But to me, who was a Cadet at the Battle of
Coldstream
in
Scotland,
when
Monk
charged at the Head of the Regiment, now called
Coldstream
from the Victory of that Day; (I remember it as well as if it were Yesterday) I stood on the Left of old
West,
who I believe is now at
Chelsea:
I say, to me, who know very well this Part of Mankind. I take the Gallantry of private Soldiers to proceed from the same, if not from a nobler Impulse than that of Gentlemen and Officers. They have the same Taste of being acceptable to their Friends, and go through the Difficulties of that Profession by the same irresistible Charm of Fellowship, and the Communication of Joys and Sorrows, which quickens the Relish of Pleasure, and abates the Anguish of Pain. Add to this, that they have the same Regard to Fame, though they do not expect so great a Share as Men above them hope for; but I'll engage, Serjeant
Hall
would die Ten thousand Deaths, rather than a Word should be spoken at the
Red-Lettice,
or any Part of the
Butcher-Row,
in Prejudice to his Courage or Honesty. If you will have my Opinion then of the Serjeant's Letter, I pronounce the Style to be mixed, but truly Epistolary; the Sentiment relating to his own Wound, is in the Sublime; the Postscript of
Pegg Hartwell,
in the gay; and the Whole, the Picture of the bravest Sort of Men, that is to say, a Man of great Courage, and small Hopes.
From my own Apartment,
October 28.
When I came Home this Evening, I found, after many Attempts to vary my Thoughts, that my Head still ran upon the Subject of the Discourse to Night at
Will
's. I fell therefore into the Amusement of proportioning the Glory of a Battle among the whole Army, and dividing it into Shares, according to the Method of the Million-Lottery. In this Bank of Fame, by an exact Calculation, and the Rules of Political Arithmetick, I have allotted Ten hundred thousand Shares; Five hundred thousand of which is the Due of the General, Two hundred thousand I assign to the General Officers, and Two hundred thousand more to all the Commissioned Officers, from Colonels to Ensigns; the remaining Hundred thousand must be distributed among the Non-Commission'd Officers, and private Men: According to which Computation, I find Serjeant
Hall
is to have one Share and a Fraction of two Fifths. When I was a Boy at
Oxford,
there was among the Antiquities near the Theatre a great Stone, on which were engraven the Names of all who fell in the Battle of
Marathon.
The generous and knowing People of
Athens
understood the Force of the Desire of Glory, and would not let the meanest Soldier perish in Oblivion. Were the natural Impulse of the
British
Nation animated with such Monuments, What Man would be so mean, as not to hazard his Life for his Ten hundred thousandth Part of the Honour in such a Day as that of
Blenheim
or
Blaregnies?
The TATLER. [No 88.
From
Saturd. Octob.
29. to
Tuesday Nov.
1. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
October 31.
I Have lately received a Letter from a Friend in the Country, wherein he acquaints me, That two or three Men of the Town are got among them, and have brought down particular Words and Phrases, which were never before in those Parts. He mentions in particular the Words
Gunner
and
Gunster,
which my Correspondent observes they make use of when any Thing has been related that is strange and surprizing; and therefore desires I would explain those Terms, as I have many others, for the Information of such as live at a Distance from this Town and Court, which he calls the great Mints of Language. His Letter is dated from
York;
and (if he tells me Truth) a Word in its ordinary Circulation does not reach that City within the Space of Five Years after it is first stamp'd. I cannot say how long these Words have been current in Town, but I shall now take Care to send them down by the next Post.
I must in the first Place observe, That the Words
Gunner
and
Gunster
are not to be used promiscuously; for a Gunner, properly speaking, is not a Gunster: Nor is a Gunster,
vice versa,
a Gunner. They both indeed are derived from the Word Gun, and so far they agree. But as a Gun is remarkable for its destroying at a Distance, or for the Report it makes, which is apt to startle all its Hearers, those who recount strange Accidents and Circumstances, which have no Manner of Foundation in Truth, when they design to do Mischief, are comprehended under the Appellation of Gunners; but when they endeavour only to surprise and entertain, they are distinguish'd by the Name of Gunsters. Gunners therefore are the Pest of Society; but the Gunsters often the Diversion. The Gunner is destructive, and hated; the Gunster innocent, and laughed at. The first is prejudicial to others, the other only to himself.
This being premised, I must in the next Place subdivide the Gunner into several Branches: All or the Chief of which are I think as follow:
First,
The Bombardeer.
Secondly,
The Miner.
Thirdly,
The Squib.
Fourthly,
The Serpent.
And
First,
Of the First. The Bombardeer tosses his Balls sometimes into the midst of a City, with a Design to fill all around him with Terror and Combustion. He has been sometimes known to drop a Bomb in a Senate-house, and to scatter a Pannick over a Nation. But his chief Aim is at several eminent Stations, which he looks upon as the fairest Marks, and uses all his Skill to do Execution upon those who possess them. Every Man so situated, let his Merit be never so great, is sure to undergo a Bombardment. It is further observed, that the only Way to be out of Danger from the Bursting of a Bomb, is to lie prostrate on the Ground; a Posture too abject for generous Spirits.
Secondly,
The Miner.
As the Bombardeer levels his Mischief at Nations and Cities, the Miner busies himself in ruining and overturning private Houses and particular Persons. He often acts as a Spy, in discovering the secret Avenues and unguarded Accesses of Families, where, after he has made his
roper Discoveries and Dispositions, he sets sudden Fire to his Train, that blows up Families, scatters Friends, separates Lovers, disperses Kindred, and shakes a whole Neighbourhood.
It is to be noted, that several Females are great Proficients in this Way of Engineering. The Marks by which they are to be known, are a wonderful Sollicitude for the Reputation of their Friends, and a more than ordinary Concern for the Good of their Neighbours. There is also in them something so very like Religion, as may deceive the Vulgar; but if you look upon it more nearly, you see on it such a Cast of Censoriousness, as discovers it to be nothing but Hypocrisy.
Cleomilla
is a great Instance of a Female Miner: But as my Design is to expose only the Incorrigible, let her be silent for the future, and I shall be so too.
Thirdly,
The Squib.
The Squibs are those who in the common Phrase of the World are called Libellers, Lampooners, and Pamphleteers. Their Fire-works are made up in Paper; and it is observed, that they mix abundance of Charcoal in their Powder, that they may be sure to blacken where they cannot finge. These are observed to give a Consternation and Disturbance only to weak Minds; which, according to the Proverb, are always
more afraid than hurt.
Fourthly,
Serpents.
The Serpents are a petty Kind of Gunners, more pernicious than any of the rest. They make Use of a Sort of a White Powder, that goes off without any violent Crack, but gives a gentle Sound, much like that of a Whisper; and is more destructive in all Parts of Life, than any of the Materials made Use of by any of the Fraternity.
Come we now to the
Gunsters.
This Race of Engineers deals altogether in Wind-Guns, which by recoiling often, knock down those who discharge them, without hurting any Body else; and according to the various Compressions of the Air, make such strange Squeaks, Cracks, Pops, and Bounces, as it is impossible to hear without Laughing. 'Tis observable however, that there is a Disposition in a Gunster to become a Gunner; and though their proper Instruments are only loaden with Wind, they often, out of Wantonness, fire a Bomb, or spring a Mine, out of their natural Inclination to Engineering; by which Means they do Mischief when they don't design it, and have their Bones broken when they don't deserve it.
This Sort of Engineers are the most unaccountable Race of Men in the World: Some of them have received above an Hundred Wounds, and yet have not a Scar in their Bodies: some have debauched Multitudes of Women who have died Maids. You may be with them from Morning till Night, and the next Day they shall tell you a Thousand Adventures that happened when you were with them, which you know nothing of. They have a Quality of having been present at every Thing they hear related; and never heard a Man commended, who was not their intimate Acquaintance, if not their Kinsman.
I hope these Notes may serve as a rough Draught for a new Establishment of Engineers, which I shall hereafter fill up with proper Persons, according to my own Observations on their Conduct, having already had one recommended to me for the General of my Artillery. But that, and all the other Posts, I intend to keep open, till I can inform my self of the Candidates, having resolved in this Case to depend no more upon their Friend's Word, than I would upon their own.
From my own Apartment,
October 31.
I was this Morning awaked by a sudden Skake of the House; and as soon as I had got a little out of my Consternation, I felt another, which was followed by Two or Three Repetitions of the same Convulsion. I got up as fast as possible, girt on my Rapier, and snatch'd up my Hat, when my Landlady came up to me, and told me, That the Gentlewoman of the next House begged me to step thither; for that a Lodger she had taken in was run mad, and she desired my Advice; as indeed every Body in the whole Lane does upon important Occasions. I am not like some Artists, sawcy, because I can be beneficial, but went immediately. Our Neighbour told us, she had the Day before let her Second Floor to a very genteel youngish Man, who told her, he kept extraordinary good Hours, and was generally at Home most Part of the Morning and Evening at Study; but that this Morning he had for an Hour together made this extravagant Noise which we then heard. I went up Stairs with my Hand upon the Hilt of my Rapier, and approached this new Lodger's Door. I look'd in at the Keyhole, and there I saw a well-made Man look with great Attention on a Book, and on a sudden jump into the Air so high, that his Head almost touched the Cieling. He came down safe on his Right Foot, and again flew up alighting on his Left; then looked again at his Book, and holding out his Right Leg, put it into such a quivering Motion, that I thought he would have shaked it off. He used the Left after the same Manner, when on a sudden, to my great Surprize, he stooped himself incredibly low, and turned gently on his Toes. After this circular Motion, he continued bent in that humble Posture for some Time, looking on his Book. After this, he recovered himself with a sudden Spring, and flew round the Room in all the Violence and Disorder imaginable, till he made a full Pause for Want of Breath. In this Interim my Women asked what I thought: I whisper'd, that I thought this learned Person an Enthusiast, who possibly had his first Education in the Peripatetick Way, which was a Sect of Philosophers who always studied when walking. But observing him much out of Breath, I thought it the best Time to master him if he were disorder'd, and knock'd at his Door. I was surpriz'd to find him open it, and say with great Civility and good Mien, That he hoped he had not disturbed us. I believed him in a lucid Interval, and desired he'd please to let me see his Book. He did so, smiling. I could not make any Thing of it, and therefore asked in what Language it was writ. He said, It was one he studied with great Application; but it was his Profession to teach it, and could not communicate his Knowledge without a Consideration. I answer'd, That I hoped he would hereafter keep his Thoughts to himself; for his Meditation this Morning had cost me Three Coffee-Dishes, and a clean Pipe. He seem'd concern'd at that, and told me, he was a Dancing-Master, and had been reading a Dance or Two before he went out, which had been written by one who taught at an Academy in
France.
He observed me at a stand, and went on to inform me, That now articulate Motions, as well as Sounds, were expressed by prope Characters; and that there is nothing so common, as to communicate a Dance by a Letter. I beseeched him hereafter to meditate in a Ground-Room, for that otherwise it would be impossible for an Artist of any other Kind to live near him; and that I was sure, several of his Thoughts this Morning would have shaken my Spectacles off my Nose, had I been my self at Study.
I then took my Leave of this Virtuoso, and return'd to my Chamber, meditating on the various Occupations of Rational Creatures.
The TATLER. [No 89.
Rura mihi placeant, rigui
que
in Vallibus Amnes,
Flumina Arnem Sylvas
que
inglorius —
From
Tuesd. Nov.
1. to
Thursd. Nov.
3. 1709.
Grecian Coffee-house,
Nov. 2.
I have received this short Epistle from an unknown Hand.
SIR,
I Have no more to trouble you with, than to desire you would in your next help me to some Answer to the Inclosed concerning your self. In the mean time I congratulate you upon the Increase of your Fame, which you see has extended it self beyond the Bills of Mortality.
SIR,
THAT the Country is barren of News, has been the Excuse Time out of Mind for dropping a Correspondence with our Friends in
London;
as if it were impossible out of a Coffee-house to write an agreeable Letter. I am too ingenuous to endeavour at the covering of my Negligence with so common an Excuse. Doubtless, amongst Friends bred as we have been, to the Knowledge of Books as well as Men, a Letter dated from a Garden, a Grotto, a Fountain, a Wood, a Meadow, or the Banks of a River, may be more entertaining, than one from
Tom
's,
Will
's,
White
's, or St.
James
's. I promise therefore to be frequent for the future in my rural Dates to you: But for fear you should, from what I have said, be induced to believe I shun the Commerce of Men, I must inform you, That there is a fresh Topick of Discourse lately risen amongst the Ingenious in our Part of the World, and is become the more fashionable for the Ladies giving into it. This we owe to
Isaac Bickerstaff,
who is very much censured by some, and as much justified by others. Some criticise his Style, his Humour and his Matter; others admire the whole Man: Some pretend, from the Informations of their Friends in Town, to decipher the Author; and others confess they are lost in their Guesses. For my Part, I must own my self a professed Admirer of the Paper, and desire you to send me a compleat Set, together with your Thoughts of the 'Squire, and his Lucubrations.
There is no Pleasure like that of receiving Praise from the Praise-worthy; and I own it a very solid Happiness, that these my Lucubrations are approved by a Person of so fine a Tast as the Author of this Letter, who is capable of enjoying the World in the Simplicity of its natural Beauties. This Pastoral Letter, if I may so call it, must be written by a Man who carries his Entertainment wherever he goes, and is undoubtedly one of those happy Men who appear far otherwise to the Vulgar. I dare say, he is not envied by the Vicious, the Vain, the Frolick, and the Loud; but is continually blessed with that strong and serious Delight which flows from a well-taught and liberal Mind. With great Respect to Country Sports, I may say, this Gentleman could pass his Time agreeably, if there were not a Hare or a Fox in his County. That calm and elegant Satisfaction which the Vulgar call Melancholy, is the true and proper Delight of Men of Knowledge and Virtue. What we take for Diversion, which is a kind of forgetting our selves, is but a mean Way of Entertainment, in Comparison of that which is considering, knowing, and enjoying our selves. The Pleasures of ordinary People are in their Passions; but the Seat of this Delight is in the Reason and Understanding. Such a Frame of Mind raises that sweet Enthusiasm which warms the Imagination at the Sight of every Work of Nature, and turns all around you into Picture and Landskip. I shall be ever proud of Advices from this Gentleman; for I profess writing News from the learned as well as the busie World.
As for my Labours, which he is pleased to enquire after, if they can but wear one Impertinence out of humane Life, destroy a single Vice, or give a Morning's Chearfulness to an honest Mind; in short, if the World can be but one Virtue the better, or in any Degree less vicious, or receive from them the smallest Addition to their innocent Diversions, I shall not think my Pains, or indeed my Life, to have been spent in vain.
Thus far as to my Studies. It will be expected I should in the next Place give some Account of my Life. I shall therefore, for the Satisfaction of the present Age, and the Benefit of Posterity, present the World with the following Abridgment of it.
It is remarkable, that I was bred by Hand, and eat nothing but Milk till I was a Twelvemonth old; from which Time, to the 8th Year of my Age, I was observed to delight in Pudding and Potatoes; and indeed I retain a Benevolence for that Sort of Food to this Day. I do not remember that I distinguish'd my self in any Thing at those Years, but by my great Skill at Taw, for which I was so barbarously used, that it has ever since given me an Aversion to Gaming. In my Twelfth Year, I suffered very much for Two or Three false Concords. At Fifteen, I was sent to the University, and stayed there for some Time; but a Drum passing by, (being a Lover of Musick) I listed my self for a Soldier. As Years came on, I began to examine Things, and grew discontented at the Times. This made me quit the Sword, and take to the Study of the Occult Sciences, in which I was so wrap'd up, that
Oliver Cromwell
had been buried, and taken up again, Five Years before I heard he was dead. This gave me first the Reputation of a Conjurer, which has been of great Disadvantage to me ever since, and kept me out of all Publick Employments. The greater Part of my later Years has been divided between
Dick
's Coffee-house, the
Trumpet
in
Sheer-Lane,
and my own Lodgings.
From my own Apartment,
Nov. 2.
The Evil of unseasonable Visits has been complained of to me with much Vehemence by Persons of both Sexes; and I am desired to consider this very important Circumstance, that Men may know how to regulate their Conduct in an Affair which concerns no less than Life it self. For to a rational Creature, it is almost the same Cruelty to attack his Life, by robbing him of so many Moments of his Time, or so many Drops of his Blood. The Author of the following Letter has a just Delicacy in this Point, and hath put it into a very good Light.
Octob. 29.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
I Am very much afflicted with the Gravel, which makes me sick and peevish. I desire to know of you, if it be reasonable that any of my Acquaintance should take Advantage over me at this Time, and afflict me with long Visits, because they are idle, and I am confined. Pray Sir, reform the Town in this Matter. Men never consider whether the sick Person be disposed for Company, but make their Visits to humour themselves. You may talk upon this Topick, so as to oblige all Persons afflicted with Chronical Distempers, among which I reckon Visits. Don't think me a sowr Man, for I love Conversation and my Friends; but I think one's most intimate Friend may be too familiar; and that there are such Things as unseasonable Wit, and painful Mirth.
It is with some so hard a Thing to employ their Time, that it is a great good Fortune when they have a Friend indisposed, that they may be punctual in perplexing him, when he is recover'd enough to be in that State which cannot be called Sickness or Health; when he is too well to deny Company, and too ill to receive them. It is no uncommon Case, if a Man is of any Figure or Power in the World, to be congratulated into a Relapse.
Will's Coffee-house,
Nov. 2.
I was very well pleased this Evening, to hear a Gentleman express a very becoming Indignation against a Practice which I my self have been very much offended at. There is nothing (said he) more ridiculous, than for an Actor to insert Words of his own in the Part he is to act, so that it is impossible to see the Poet for the Player: You'l have
Penkethman
and
Bullock
helping out
Beaumont
and
Fietcher.
It puts me in Mind (continued he) of a Collection of antique Statues which I once saw in a Gentleman's Possession, who employ'd a neighbouring Stone-Cutter to add Noses, Ears, Arms, or Legs, to the maimed Works of
Phidias
or
Praxiteles.
You may be sure this Addition disfigured the Statues much more than Time had. I remember a
Venus,
that by the Nose he had given her, looked like Mother
Shipton;
and a
Mercury,
with a Pair of Legs that seemed very much swelled with a Dropsy.
I thought the Gentleman's Observations very proper; and he told me, I had improved his Thought, in mentioning on this Occasion those wise Commentators who had filled up the Hemisticks of
Virgil;
particularly that notable Poet, who, to make the
Aeneid
more perfect, carried on the Story to
Lavinia
's Wedding. If the proper Officer will not condescend to take Notice of these Absurdities, I shall my self, as a Censor of the People, animadvert upon such Proceedings.
The TATLER. [No 90.
— Amote quaeramus Seria Ludo.
Hor.
From
Thursd. Nov.
3. to
Saturd. Nov.
5. 1709.
Will's Coffee-house,
November 4.
THE Passion of Love happened to be the Subject of Discourse between Two or Three of us at the Table of the Poets this Evening; and among other Observations, it was remarked, that the same Sentiment on this Passion had run through all Languages and Nations.
Menmius,
who has a very good Taste, fell into a little Sort of Dissertation on this Occasion. It is (said he) remarkable, that no Passion has been treated by all who have touch'd upon it with the same Bent of Design but this. The Poets, the Moralists, the Painters, in all their Descriptions, Allegories, and Pictures, have represented it as a soft Torment, a bitter Sweet, a pleasing Pain, or an agreeable Distress, and have only expressed the same Thought in a different Manner.
The joining of Pleasure and Pain together in such Devices, seems to me the only pointed Thought I ever read which is natural; and it must have proceeded from its being the universal Sense and Experience of Mankind, that they have all spoken of it in the same Manner. I have in my own Reading remarked an Hundred and Three Epigrams, Fifty Odes, and Ninety one Sentences, tending to this sole Purpose.
It is certain, there is no other Passion which does produce such contrary Effects in so great a Degree
But this may be said for Love, that if you st
ve out of the Soul, Life would be insipid, and our Being but half animated. Humane Nature would
nk into Deadness and Lethargy, it not quickned with some active Principle; and as for all others, whether Ambition, Envy, or Avarice, which are apt to possess the Mind in the Absence or this Passion, it must be allowed that they have greater Pains, without the Compensation of such exquisite Pleasures as those we find in Love. The great Skill is to heighten the Satisfactions, and deaden the Sorrows of it, which has been the End of many of my Labours, and shall continue to be so for the Service of the World in general, and in Particular of the Fair Sex, who a
always the best or the worst Part of it. It is pity that a Passion, which has in it a Capacity of making Life happy, should not be cultivated to the utmost Advantage. Reason, Prudence, and good Nature, rightly applied, can throughly accomplish this great End, provided they have always a real and constant Love to work upon. But this Subject I shall treat more at large in the History of my married Sister; and in the mean Time, shall conclude my Reflection on the Pains and Pleasures which attend this Passion with one of the finest Allegories which I think I have ever read. It is invented by the Divine
Plato,
and to shew the Opinion he himself had of it, ascribed by him to his admir'd
Socrates,
whom he represents as discoursing with his Friends, and giving the History of Love in the following Manner:
At the Birth of
Beauty
(says he) there was a great Feast made, and many Guests invited: Among the rest, was the God
Plenty,
who was the Son of the Goddess
Prudence,
and inherited many of his Mother's Virtues. After a full Entertainment. he retired into the Garden of
Jupiter,
which was hung with a great Variety of Ambrosial Fruits, and seems to have been a very proper Retreat for such a Guest. In the mean Time an unhappy Female, called
Poverty,
having heard of this great Feast, repaired to it in Hopes of finding Relief. The first Place she lights upon was
Jupiter
's Garden, which generally stands open to People of all Conditions.
Poverty
enters, and by Chance finds the God
Plenty
asleep in it. She was immediately fired with his Charms, laid her self down by his Side, and managed Matters so well, that she conceived a Child by him. The World was very much in Suspence upon the Occasion, and could not imagine to themselves what would be the Nature of an Infant that was to have its Original from Two such Parents. At the last, the Child appears; and who should it be but
Love.
This Infant grew up, and proved in all his Behaviour what he really was, a Compound of opposite Beings. As he is the Son of
Plenty,
(who was the Offspring of
Prudence
) he is subtle, intriguing, full of Stratagems and Devices; as the Son of
Poverty,
he is fawning, begging, serenading, delighting to lie at a Threshold, or beneath a Window. By the Father, he is audacious, full of Hopes, conscious of Merit, and therefore quick of Resentment: By the Mother, he his doubtful, timorous, meanspirited, fearful of offending, and abject in Submissions. In the same Hour you may see him transported with Raptures, talking of immortal Pleasures, and appearing satisfied as a God; and immediately after, as the mortal Mother prevails in his Composition, you behold him pining, languishing, despairing, dying.
I have been always wonderfully delighted with Fables, Allegories, and the like Inventions, which the politest and the best Instructors of Mankind have always made Use of: They take off from the Severity of Instruction, and enforce it at the same Time that they conceal it. The supposing
Love
to be conceived immediately after the Birth of
Beauty,
the Parentage of
Plenty,
and the Inconsistency of this Passion with its self so naturally derived to it, are great Master-Strokes in this Fable; and if they fell into good Hands, might furnish out a more pleasing Canto than any in
Spencer.
From my own Apartment,
November 4.
I came Home this Evening in a very pensive Mood; and to divert me, took up a Volume of
Shakespear,
where I chanced to cast my Eye upon a Part in the Tragedy of
Richard the Third,
which filled my Mind with a very agreeable Horror. It was the Scene in which that bold, but wicked Prince, is represented as sleeping in his Tent, the Night before the Battle in which he fell. The Poet takes that Occasion to set before him in a Vision, a terrible Assembly of Apparitions, the Ghosts of all those innocent Persons whom he is said to have murther'd. Prince
Edward, Henry
VI. the Duke of
Clarence, Rivers, Gray,
and
Vaughan,
Lord
Hastings,
the Two young Princes Sons to
Edward
IV. his own Wife, and the Duke of
Buckingham,
rise up in their Blood before him, beginning their Speeches with that dreadful Salutation,
Let me sit heavy on thy Soul to Morrow;
and concluding with that dismal Sentence,
Despair and die.
This inspires the Tyrant with a Dream of his past Guilt, and of the approaching Vengeance. He anticipates the fatal Day of
Bosworth,
fancies himself dismounted, weltring in his own Blood; and in the Agonies of Despair, (before he is throughly awake) starts up with the following Speech:
Give me another Horse—Bind up my Wounds!
Have Mercy Jesu—Soft; I did but dream.
Oh Coward Conscience! How dost thou afflict me?
The Lights burn blue! Is it not dead Midnight?
Cold fearful Drops stand on my trembling Flesh;
What do I fear? My self!
&c.
A Scene written with so great Strength of Imagination, indisposed me from further reading, and threw me into a deep Contemplation. I began to reflect upon the different Ends of good and bad Kings; and as this was the Birth-Day of our late Renouned Monarch, I could not forbear thinking on the Departure of that excellent Prince, whose Life was crowned with Glory, and his Death with Peace. I let my Mind go so fat into this Thought, as to imagine to my self, what might have been the Vision of his departing Slumbers. He might have seen Confederate Kings applauding him in different Languages, Slaves that had been bound in Fetters, lifting up their Hands and blessing him, and the Persecuted in their several Forms of Worship imploring Comfort on his last Moments. The Reflection upon this excellent Prince's Mortality had been a very melancholy Entertainment to me, had I not been relieved by the Consideration of the glorious Reign which succeeds it.
We now see as great a Virtue as ever was on the
British
Throne, surrounded with all the Beauty of Success. Our Nation may not only boast of a long Series of great, regular, and well-laid Designs, but also of Triumphs and Victories; while we have the Happiness to see our Sovereign exercise that true Policy which tends to make a Kingdom great and happy, and at the same Time enjoy the good and glorious Effect of it.
The TATLER. [No 91.
From
Saturd. Nov.
5. to
Tuesd. Nov.
8. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Nov. 7.
I Was very much surprized this Evening with a Visit from one of the Top Toasts of the Town, who came privately in a Chair, and bolted into my Room, while I was reading a Chapter of
Agrippa
upon the Occult Sciences; but as she entered with all the Air and Bloom that Nature ever bestowed on Woman, I threw down the Conjurer, and met the Charmer. I had no sooner placed her at my Right Hand by the Fire, but she opened to me the Reason of her Visit.
'Mr.
Bickerstaff,
(said the fine Creature) I have been your Correspondent some Time, though I never saw you before; I have writ by the Name of
Maria.
You have told me, you were too far gone in Life to think of Love; therefore I am answered as to the Passion I spoke of, and (continued she smiling) I will not stay till you grow young again, (as you Men never fail to do in your Dotage) but am come to consult you about disposing of my self to another. My Person you see; my Fortune is very considerable; but I am at present under much Perplexity how to act in a great Conjuncture. I have Two Lovers,
Crassus
and
Lorio. Crassus
is prodigiously rich, but has no one distinguishing Quality; tho' at the same Time he is not remarkable on the defective Side.
Lorio
has travelled, is well-bred, pleasant in Discourse, discreet in his Conduct, agreeable in his Person; and with all this, he has a Competency of Fortune without Superfluity. When I consider
Lorio,
my Mind is filled with an Idea of the great Satisfactions of a pleasant Conversation. When I think of
Crassus,
my Equipage, numerous Servants, gay Liveries, and various Dresses, are opposed to the Charms of his Rival. In a Word, when I cast my Eyes upon
Lorio,
I forget and despise Fortune; when I behold
Crassus,
I think only of pleasing my Vanity, and injoying an uncontrouled Expence in all the Pleasures of Life, except Love.'
She paused here.
Madam, said I, I am confident you have not stated your Case with Sincerity, and that there is some secret Pang which you have concealed from me: For I see by your Aspect the Generosity of your Mind; and that open ingenuous Air lets me know, that you have too great a Sense of the generous Passion of Love, to prefer the Ostentation of Life in the Arms of
Crassus,
to the Entertainments and Conveniencies of it in the Company of your beloved
Lorio;
for so he is indeed Madam. You speak his Name with a different Accent from the rest of your Discourse: The Idea his Image raises in you, gives new Life to your Features, and new Grace to your Speech. Nay, blush not, Madam, there is no Dishonour in loving a Man of Merit; I assure you, I am grieved at this dallying with your self, when you put another in Competition with him, for no other Reason but superior Wealth.
'To tell you then (said she) the Bottom of my Heart, there's
Clotilda
lies by, and plants her self in the Way of
Crassus,
and I am confident will snap him, if I refuse him. I cannot bear to think that she will shine above me. When our Coaches meet, to see her Chariot hung behind with Four Footmen, and mine with but Two: Hers, powder'd, gay, and sawcy, kept only for Show; mine, a Couple of careful Rogues that are good for something: I own, I cannot bear that
Clotilda
should be in all the Pride and Wantonness of Wealth, and I only in the Ease and Affluence of it.'
Here I interrupted: Well, Madam, now I see your whole Affliction; you could be happy, but that you fear another would be happier: Or rather, you could be solidly happy, but that another is to be happy in Appearance. This is an Evil which you must get over, or never know Happiness. We will put the Case, Madam, that you married
Crassus,
and she
Lorio.
She answer'd, Speak not of it—I could tear her Eyes out at the Mention of it. Well then, I pronounce
Lorio
to be the Man; but I must tell you, that what we call Settling in the World, is in a Kind leaving it; and you must at once resolve to keep your Thoughts of Happiness within the Reach of your Fortune, and not measure it by Comparison with others.
But indeed, Madam, when I behold that beauteous Form of yours, and consider the Generality of your Sex, as to their Disposal of themselves in Marriage, or their Parents doing it for them without their own Approbation, I cannot but look upon all such Matches as the most impudent Prostitutions. Do but observe when you are at a Play, the familiar Wenches that sit laughing among the Men. These appear detestable to you in the Boxes: Each of them would give up her Person for a Guinea; and some of you would take the worst there for Life for Twenty Thousand. If so, How do you differ but in Price? As to the Circumstance of Marriage, I take that to be hardly an Alteration of the Case; for Wedlock is but a more solemn Prostitution, where there is not an Union of Minds. You would hardly believe it, but there have been Designs even upon me.
A Neighbour in this very Lane, who knows I have, by leading a very wary Life, laid up a little Money, had a great Mind to marry me tohis Daughter. I was frequently invited to their Table: The Girl was always very pleasant and agreeable. After Dinner, Miss
Molly
would be sure to fill my Pipe for me, and put more Sugar than ordinary into my Coffee; for she was sure I was good-natured—If I chanced to hem, the Mother would applaud my Vigour; and has often said on that Occasion, I wonder, Mr.
Bickerstaff,
you don't marry, I am sure you would have Children. Things went so far, that my Mistress presented me with a Wrought Nightcap and a Laced Band of her own Working. I began to think of it in earnest; but one Day, having an Occasion to ride to
Islington,
as Two or Three People were lifting me upon my Pad, I spied her at a convenient Distance laughing at her Lover, with a Parcel of Romps of her Acquaintance: One of them, who I suppose had the same Design upon me, told me she said, Do you see how briskly my old Gentleman mounts? This made me cut off my Amour, and to reflect with my self, that no married Life could be so unhappy, as where the Wife proposes no other Advantage from her Husband, than that of making her self fine, and keeping her out of the Dirt.
My fair Client burst out a laughing at the Account I gave her of my Escape, and went away seemingly convinced of the Reasonableness of my Discourse to her.
Assoon as she was gone, my Maid brought up the following Epistle, which by the Style, and the Description she gave of the Person, I suppose was left by
Nick Doubt.
Harkee, said he, Girl, tell old
Basket-hilt,
I would have him answer it by the first Opportunity. What he says, is this:
Isaac,
YOU seem a very honest Fellow; therefore pray tell me, Did not you write that Letter in Praise of the 'Squire and his Lucubrations your self?
&c.
The greatest Plague of Coxcombs is, that they often break upon you with an impertinent Piece of good Sense, as this Jackanapes has hit me in a right Place enough. I must confess, I am as likely to play such a Trick as another; but that Letter he speaks of was really genuine. When I first set up, I thought it fair enough to let my self know from all Parts, that my Works were wonderfully enquired for, and were become the Diversion, as well as Instruction, of all the choice Spirits in every County of
Great Britain.
I do not doubt but the more Intelligent of my Readers found it, before this
Jackanapes
(I can call him no better) took upon him to observe upon my Style and my Basket-hilt. A very pleasant Gentleman of my Acquaintance told me one Day a Story of this Kind of Falshood and Vanity in an Author.
Maevius
showed him a Paper of Verses, which he said he had received that Morning by the Penny-Post from an unknown Hand. My Friend admired them extremely. Sir, said he, this must come from a Man that's eminent: You see Fire, Life and Spirit, run through the Whole, and at the same time a Correctness, which shows he is used to Writing, Pray, Sir, read them over again. He begins again, Title and all;
To
Maevius,
on his Incomparable Poems.
The second Reading was performed with much more Vehemence and Action than the former; after which my Friend fell into downright Raptures—Why, they are truly sublime! There is Energy in this Line! Description in that! Why, 'tis the Thing it self! This is perfect Picture!
Maevius
could bear no more; but, Faith says he,
Ned,
to tell you the plain Truth, I writ them my self.
There goes just such another Story of the same paternal Tenderness in
Bavius,
an ingenious Contemporary of mine, who had writ several Comedies, which were rejected by the Players. This my Friend
Bavius
took for Envy, and therefore prevailed upon a Gentleman to go with him to the Play-house, and gave him a new Play of his, desiring he would personate the Author, and read it, to baffle the Spite of the Actors. The Friend consented, and to reading they went. They had not gone over Three Similies, before
Roscius
the Player made the Acting-Author stop, and desired to know, What he meant by such a Rapture? And how it came to pass, that in this Condition of the Lover, instead of acting according to his Circumstances, he spent his Time in considering what his present State was like? That is very true, says the Mock-Author, I believe we had as good strike these Lines out. By your Leave, says
Maevius,
you shall not spoil your Play, you are too modest; those very Lines, for ought I know, are as good as any in your Play, and they shall stand. Well, they go on, and the Particle
and
stood unfortunately at the End of a Verse, and was made to rhime to the Word
stand.
This
Roscius
excepted against. The new Poet gave up that too, and said, he would not dispute for a Monosyllable—For a Monosyllable, says the real Author! I can assure you, a Monosyllable may be of as great Force as a Word of Ten Syllables. I tell you, Sir,
and
is the Connexion of the Matter in that Place; without that Word, you may put all that follows into any other Play as well as this. Besides, if you leave it out, it will look as if you had put it in only for the Sake of the Rhime.
Roscius
persisted, assuring the Gentleman, that it was impossible to speak it but the
and
must be lost; so it might as well be blotted out.
Bavius
snatched his Play out of their Hands, said they were both Blockheads, and went off; repeating a Couplet, because he would not make his
Exit
irregularly. A witty Man of these Days compared this true and feigned Poet to the contending Mothers before
Solomon:
The true One was easily discovered from the Pretender, by refusing to see his Offspring dissected.
The TATLER. [No 92.
Falsus Honor juvat, & mendax Infamia terret
Quem nisi mendosum & mendacem? —
Hor.
From
Tuesd. Nov.
8. to
Thursd. Nov.
10. 1709.
White's Chocolate-house,
Nov. 9.
I Know no Manner of Speaking so offensive as that of giving Praise, and closing it with an Exception; which proceeds (where Men do not do it to introduce Malice, and make Calumny more effectual) from the common Error of considering Man as a perfect Creature. But if we rightly examine Things, we shall find, that there is a Sort of Oeconomy in Providence, that one shall excel where another is defective, in order to make Men more useful to each other, and mix them in Society. This Man having this Talent, and that Man another, is as necessary in Conversation, as one professing one Trade, and another another, is beneficial in Commerce. The happiest Climate does not produce all Things; and it was so ordered that one Part of the Earth should want the Product of another, for uniting Mankind in a general Correspondence and good Understanding. It is therefore Want of good Sense as well as good Nature, to say,
simplicius
has a better Judgment, but not so much Wit as
Latius;
for that these have not each other's Capacities, is no more a Diminution to either, than if you should say,
Simplicius
is not
Latius,
or
Latius
not
Simplicius.
The Heathen World had so little Notion that Perfection was to be expected amongst Men, that among them any one Quality or Endowment in an Heroick Degree made a God.
Hercules
had Strength; but it was never objected to him that he wanted Wit.
apollo
presided over Wit, and it was never asked whether he had Strength. We hear no Exceptions against the Beauty of
Minerva,
or the Wisdom of
Venus.
These wise Heathens were glad to immortalize any one serviceable Gift, and overlook all Imperfections in the Person who had it: But with us it is far otherwise, for we reject many eminent Virtues, if they are accompanied with one apparent Weakness. The reflecting after this Manner, made me account for the strange Delight Men take in reading Lampoons and Scandal, with which the Age abounds, and of which I receive frequent Complaints. Upon mature Consideration, I find it is principally for this Reason, that the worst of Mankind, the Libellers, receive so much Encouragement in the World. The low Race of Men take a secret Pleasure in finding an eminent Character levelled to their Condition by a Report of its Defects, and keep themselves in Countenance, though they are excelled in a thousand Virtues, if they believe they have in common with a great Person any one Fault. The Libeller falls in with this Humour, and gratifies this Baseness of Temper, which is naturally an Enemy to extraordinary Merit. It is from this, that Libel and Satyr are promiscuously joined together in the Notions of the Valgar, though the Satyrist and Libeller differ as much as the Magistrate and the Murderer. In the Consideration of Humane Life, the Satyrist never falls upon Persons who are not glaringly faulty, and the Libeller on none but who are conspicuously commendable. Were I to expose any Vice in a good or great Man, it should certainly be by correcting it in some one where that Crime was the most distinguishing Part of the Character; as Pages are chastized for the Admonition of Princes. When it is performed otherwise, the Vicious are kept in Credit, by placing Men of Merit in the same Accusation. But all the Pasquils, Lampoons and Libels, we meet with now-a-days, are a Sort of playing with the Four and twenty Letters, and throwing them into Names and Characters, without Sense, Truth or Wit. In this Case, I am in great Perplexity to know whom they mean, and should be in Distress for those they abuse, if I did not see their Judgment and Ingenuity in those they commend. This is the true Way of examining a Libel; and when Men consider, that no one Man living thinks the better of their Heroes and Patrons for the Panegyrick given 'em, none can think themselves lessen'd by their Invective. The Hero or Patron in a Libel, is but a Scavenger to carry off the Dirt, and by that very Employment is the filthiest Creature in the Street. Dedications and Panegyricks are frequently ridiculous, let them be addressed where they will; but at the Front, or in the Body of a Libel, to commend a Man, is saying to the Persons applauded,
My Lord, or, Sir, I have pulled down all Men that the rest of the World think Great and Honourable, and here is a clear Stage; you may as you please be valiant or wise, you may choose to be on the Military or Civil List; for there is no one brave who commands, or just who has Power: You may rule the World now it is empty, which exploded you when it was full: I have knocked out the Brains of all whom Mankind thought good for any Thing; and I doubt not, but you will reward that Invention, which sound out
the only Expedient to make your Lordship, or your Worship, of any Consideration.
Had I the Honour to be in a Libel, and had escaped the Approbation of the Author, I should look upon it exactly in this Manner. But tho' it is a Thing thus perfectly indifferent, who is exalted or debased in such Performances, yet it is not so with Relation to the Authors of them; therefore I shall, for the good of my Country, hereafter take upon me to punish these Wretches. What is already pass'd may die away according to its Nature, and continue in its present Oblivion; but for the future, I shall take Notice of such Enemies to Honour and Virtue, and preserve them to immortal Infamy: Their Names shall give fresh Offence many Ages hence, and be detected a Thousand Years after the Commission of their Crime. It shall not avail, that these Children of Infamy publish their Works under seigned Names, or under none at all; for I am
perfectly well acquainted with the Styles of all my Contemporaries, that I shall not fail of doing them Justice, with their proper Names, and at their full Length. Let therefore these Miscreants enjoy their present Act of Oblivion, and take Care how they offend hereafter.
But to avert our Eyes from such Objects, it is
thinks but requisite to settle our Opinion in the Case of Praise and Blame; and I believe, the only
Way to cure that Sensibility of Reproach.
hich is a common Weakness with the most virtuous Men, is to fix their Regard firmly upon only what is strictly true, in Relation to their Advantage, as well as Diminution. For if I am pleased with Commendation which I do not deserve, I shall from the same Temper be concern'd at Scandal I do not deserve. But he that can think of false Applause with as much Contempt as false Detraction, will certainly be prepared for all Adventures, and will become all Occasions.
The TATLER. [No 93.
From
Thursd. Nov.
10. to
Saturd. Nov.
12. 1709.
Will's Coffee-house,
November 11.
THE
French
Humour of writing Epistles, and publishing their fulsome Compliments to each other, is a Thing I frequently complain of in this Place. It is, methinks, from the Prevalence of this silly Custom, that there is so little Instruction in the Conversation of our distant Friends: For which Reason, during the whole Course of my Life, I have desired my Acquaintance, when they write to me, rather to say something which should make me wish my self with them, than make me Compliments that they wished themselves with me. By this Means, I have by me a Collection of Letters from most Parts of the World, which are as naturally of the Growth of the Place, as any Herb, Tree or Plant, of the Soil. This I take to be the proper Use of an Epistolary Commerce. To desire to know how
Damon
goes on with his Courtship to
Silvia,
or how the Wine tasts at the
Old, Devil,
are thread-bare Subjects, and cold Treats, which our absent Friends might have given us without going out of Town for 'em. A Friend of mine who went to travel, used me far otherwise; for he gave me a Prospect of the Place, or an Account of the People, from every Country through which be passed. Among others which I was looking ever this Evening, I am not a little delighted with this which follows:
Dear Sir,
I Believe this is the first Letter that was ever sent you from the Middle Region, where I am at this present Writing. Not to keep you in Suspence, it comes to you from the Top of the highest Mountain in
Switzerland,
where I am now shivering among the eternal Frosts and Snows. I can scarce forbear dating it in
December,
though they call it the First of
August
at the Bottom of the Mountain. I assure you, I can hardly keep my Ink from freezing in the middle of the Dog-Days. I am here entertained with the prettiest Variety of Snow-Prospects that you can imagine, and have several Pits of it before me that are very near as old as the Mountain it self; for in this Country, it is as lasting as Marble. I am now upon a Spot of it, which they tell me fell about the Reign of
Charlemain
or King
Pepin.
The Inhabitants of the Country are as great Curiosities as the Country it self: They generally hire themselves out in their Youth, and if they are Musquet-Proof till about Fifty, they bring Home the Money they have got, and the Limbs they have left, to pass the rest of their Time among their native Mountains. One of the Gentlemen of the Place, who is come off with the Loss of an Eye only, told me by Way of Boast, That there were now seven Wooden Legs in his Family; and that for these four Generations, there had not been one in his Line that carried a whole Body with him to the Grave. I believe you will think the Style of this Letter a little extraordinary; but the
Rehearsal
will tell you, that
People in Clouds must not be confined to speak Sense;
and I hope we that are above them may claim the same Privilege. Wherever I am, I shall always be,
SIR,
Your most Obedient, Most Humble Servant.
I think they ought, in those Parts where the Materials are so easy to work, and at the same Time so durable, (when any one of their H
es comes Home from the Wars) to erect his Statue In Snow upon the Mountains, there to remain from Generation to Generation.
A Gentleman, who is apt to expatiate upon any Hint, took this Occasion to deliver his Opinion upon our ordinary Method of sending young Gentlemen to travel for their Education. It is certain, said he, if Gentlemen travel at an Age proper for them, during the Course of their Voyages, their Accounts to their Friends, and after their Return, their Discourses and Conversations, will have in them something above what we can meet with from those who have not had those Advantages. At the same Time it is to be observ'd, that every Temper and Genius is not qualified for this Way of Improvement. Men may change their Climate, but they cannot their Nature. A Man that goes out a Fool, cannot ride or sail himself into common Sense. Therefore let me but walk over
London-Bridge
with a young Man, and I'll tell you infallibly whether going over the
Rialto
at
Venice
will make him wiser.
It is not to be imagined how many I have saved in my Time from Banishment, by letting their Parents know they were good for nothing. But this is to be done with much Tenderness. There is my Cousin
Harry
has a Son, who is the dullest Mortal that was ever born into our House: He had got his Trunk and his Books all pack'd up to be transported into Foreign Parts, for no Reason but because the Boy never talked; and his Father said, he wanted to know the World. I could not say to a fond Parent that the Boy was dull, but looked grave; and told him, the Youth was very thoughtful, and I feared he might have some Doubts about Religion, with which it was not proper to go into
Roman
-Catholick Countries. He is accordingly kept here till he declares himself upon some Points, which I am sure he will never think of. By this Means I have prevented the Dishonour of having a Fool of our House laughed at in all Parts of
Europe.
He is now with his Father upon his own Estate, and he has sent to me to get him a Wife, which I shall do with all convenient Speed; but it shall be such a one, whose good Nature shall hide his Faults, and good Sense supply 'em. The Truth of it is, that Race is of the true
British
Kind: They are of our Country only; it hurts 'em to transplant 'em, and they are destroyed if you pretend to improve 'em. Men of this solid Make are not to be hurried up and down the World, for (if I may so speak) they are naturally at their Wit's End; and it is an impertinent Part to disturb their Repose, that they may give you only an History of their Bodily Occurrences, which is all they are capable of observing.
Harry
had an elder Brother who was tried in his Way: I remember all he could talk of at his Return was, That he had like to have been drowned at such a Place, he fell our of a Chase at another, he had a better Stomach when he moved Northward than when he turned his Course to the Parts in the South, and so forth. It is therefore very much to be considered, what Sense a Person has of Things when he is setting out; and if he then knows none of his Friends and Acquaintance but by their Clothes and Faces, it is my Opinion, that he stay at Home. His Parents should take Care to marry him, and see what they can get out of him that Way; for there is a certain Sort of Men, who are no otherwise to be regarded but as they descend from Men of Consequence, and may beget valuable Successors. And if we consider, that Men are to be esteemed only as they are useful, while a stupid Wretch is at the Head of a great Family, we may say, the Race is suspended, as properly as when it is all gone, we say, it is extinct.
From my own Apartment,
November 11.
I had several Hints and Advertisements from unknown Hands, that some, who are Enemies to my Labours, design to demand the fashionable Way of Satisfaction for the Disturbance my Lucubrations have given them. I confess, as Things now stand, I don't know how to deny such Inviters, and am preparing my self accordingly: I have brought Pumps and Files, and am every Morning practising in my Chamber. My Neighbour, the Dancing-Master, has demanded of me, Why I take this Liberty, since I would not allow it him? But I answered, His was an Act of an indifferent Nature, and mine of Necessity. My late Treatises against Duels have so far disobliged the Fraternity of the noble Science of Defencee, that I can get none of them to show me so much as one Pass. I am therefore obliged to learn by Book, and have accordingly several Volumes, wherein all the Postures are exactly delineated. I must confess, I am shy of letting People see me at this Exercise, because of my Flannel Wastcoat, and my Spectacles, which I am forced to fix on, the better to observe the Posture of the Enemy.
I have upon my Chamber-Walls, drawn at full Length, the Figures of all Sorts of Men, from Eight Foot to Three Foot Two Inches. Within this Height I take it, that all the fighting Men of
Great Britain
are comprehended. But as I push, I make Allowances for my being of a lank and spare Body, and have chalked out in every Figure my own Dimensions; for I scorn to rob any Man of his Life by taking Advantage of his Breadth: Therefore I press purely in a Line down from his Nose, and take no more of him to assault, than he has of me: For to speak impartially, if a lean Fellow wounds a fat One in any Part to the Right or Left, whether it be in Cart or in Terse, beyond the Dimensions of the said lean Fellow's own Breadth, I take it to be Murder, and such a Murder as is below a Gentleman to commit. As I am spare, I am also very tall, and behave my self with Relation to that Advantage with the same Punctilio; and I am ready to stoop or stand, according to the Stature of my Adversary. I must confess, I have had great Success this Morning, and have hit every Figure round the Room in a mortal Part, without receiving the least Hurt, except a little Scratch by falling on my Face, in pushing at one at the lower End of my Chamber; but I recovered so quick, and jumped so nimbly into my Guard, that if he had been alive, he could not have hurt me. It is confessed, I have writ against Duels with some Warmth; but in all my Discourses, I have not ever said, that I knew how a Gentleman could avoid a Duel if he were provoked to it; and since that Custom is now become a Law, I know nothing but the Legislative Power, with new Animadversions upon it, can put us in a Capacity of denying Challenges, though we are afterwards hanged for it. But no more of this at present. As Things stand, I shall put up no more Affronts; and I shall be so far from taking ill Words, that I will not take ill Looks. I therefore warn all young hot Fellows, not to look hereafter more terrible than their Neighbours; for if they stare at me with their Hats cocked higher than other People, I won't bear it. Nay, I give Warning to all People in general to look kindly at me; for I'll bear no Frowns, even from Ladies; and if any Woman pretends to look scornfully at me, I shall demand Satisfaction of the next of Kin of the Masculine Gender.
The TATLER. [No 94.
Si non errásset, fecerat ille minus.
Mart.
From
Saturd. Nov.
12. to
Tuesd. Nov.
15. 1709.
Will's Coffee-house,
Nov. 14.
THat which we call Gallantry to Women, seems to be the heroick Virtue of private Persons; and there never breathed one Man, who did not, in that Part of his Days wherein he was recommending himself to his Mistress, do something beyond his ordinary Course of Life. As this has a very great Effect even upon the most slow and common Men; so, upon such as it finds qualified with Virtue and Merit, it shines out in p oportionable Degrees of Excellence: It gives new Grace to the most eminent Accomplishments; and he, who of himself has either Wit, Wisdom, or Valour, exerts each of these noble Endowments when he becomes a Lover, with a certain Beauty of Action above what was ever observed in him before; and all who are without any one of these Qualities, are to be looked upon as the Rabble of Mankind. I was talking after this Manner in a Corner of this Place with an old Acquaintance, who taking me by the Hand, said, Mr.
Bickerstaff,
your Discourse recals to my Mind a Story, which I have longed to tell you ever since I read that Article, wherein you desire your Friends to give you Accounts of obscure Merit. The Story I had of him is literally true, and well known to be so in the Country wherein the Circumstances were transacted. He acquainted me with the Names of the Persons concerned, which I shall change into feigned Ones, there being a Respect due to their Families, that are still in Being, as well as that the Names themselves would not be so familiar to an
English
Ear. The Adventure really happened in
Denmark;
and if I can remember all the Passages, I doubt not but it will be as moving to my Readers as it was to me.
Clarinda
and
Chloe,
Two very fine Women, were bred up as Sisters in the Family of
Romeo,
who was the Father of
Chloe,
and the Guardian of
Clarinda. Philander,
a young Gentleman of a good Person, and charming Conversation, being a Friend of old
Romeo
's, frequented his House, and by that Means was much in Conversation with the young Ladies, though still in the Presence of the Father and the Guardian. The Ladies both entertained a secret Passion for him, and could see well enough, notwithstanding the Delight which he really took in
Romeo
's Conversation, that there was something more in his Heart which made him so assiduous a Visitant. Each of them thought her self the happy Woman; but the Person beloved was
Chloe.
It happened that both of them were at a Play in a Carnaval Evening, when it is the Fashion there (as well as in most Countries of
Europe
) both for Men and Women to appear in Masks and Disguises. It was on that memorable Night in the Year 1679, when the Playhouse, by some unhappy Accident, was set on Fire.
Philander,
in the first Hurry of the Disaster, immediately ran where his Treasure was, burst open the Door of the Box, snatched the Lady up in his Arms, and with unspeakable Resolution and good Fortune carried her off safe. He was no sooner out of the Crowd, but he set her down; and grasping her in his Arms, with all the Raptures of a des rving Lover, How happy am I, says he, in an Opportunity to tell you I love you more than all Things, and of shewing you the Sincerity of my Passion at the very first Declaration of it. My dear, dear
Philander,
says the Lady, pulling off her Mask, this is not a Time for Art; you are much dearer to me than the Life you have preserved: And the Joy of my present Deliverance does not transport me so much as the Passion which occasioned it. Who can tell the Grief, the Astonishment, the Terror, that appeared in the Face of
Philander,
when he saw the Person he spoke to was
Clarinds.
After a short Pause, Madam, says he, with the Looks of a dead Man, we are both mistaken; and immediately flew away, without hearing the distressed
Clarinda,
who had just Strength enough to cry out, Cruel
Philander,
Why did you not leave me in the Theatre? Crowds of People immediately gathered about her, and after having brought her to her self, conveyed her to the House of the good old unhappy
Romeo. Philander
was now pressing against a whole Tide of People at the Doors of the Theatre, and striving to enter with more Earnestness than any there endeavoured to get out. He did it at last, and with much Difficulty forced his Way to the Box where his beloved
Chloe
stood, expecting her Fate amidst this Scene of Terror and Distraction. She revived at the Sight of
Philander,
who fell about her Neck with a Tenderness not to be expressed; and amidst a Thousand Sobs and Sighs, told her his Love, and his dreadful Mistake. The Stage was now in Flames, and the whole House full of Smoke; the Entrance was quite barred up with Heaps of People, who had fallen upon one another as they endeavoured to get out; Swords were drawn, Shrieks heard on all Sides; and in short, no Possibility of an Escape for
Philander
himself, had he been capable of making it without his
Chloe.
But his Mind was above such a Thought, and wholly employed in weeping, condoling, and comforting. He catches her in his Arms. The Fire surrounds them, while—I cannot go on—
Were I an Infidel, Misfortunes like this would convince me, that there must be an Hereafter: For who can believe, that so much Virtue could meet with so great Distress without a following Reward. As for my Part, I am so old-fashioned, as firmly to believe, that all who perish in such generous Enterprizes, are relieved from the further Exercise of Life; and Providence; which sees their Virtue consummate and manifest, takes them to an immediate Reward, in a Being more suitable to the Grandeur of their Spirits. What else can wipe away our Tears, when we contemplate such undeserved, such irreparable Distresses? It was a sublime Thought in some of the Heathens of old:
— Quae Gratia Currûm
Armorumque fuit Vivis, quae Cura nitentes
Pascere Equos, eadem sequitur Tellure repôstos.
That is in other Words,
"The same Employments and Inclinations which were the Entertainment of virtuous Men upon Earth, make up their Happiness in
Elysium.
'
From my own Apartment,
Nov. 14.
When I came Home this Evening, I found a Present from Mr.
Charles Lillie,
the Perfumer at the Corner of
Beauford-Buildings,
with a Letter of Thanks for the Mention I made of him. He tells me, several of my gentle Readers have obliged me in buying at his Shop upon my Recommendation. I have enquired into the Man's Capacity, and find him an Adept in his Way. He has several Helps to Discourse besides Snuff, (which is the best
Barcelona
) and sells an Orange-Flower-Water, which seems to me to have in it the right Spirit of Brains; and I am informed, he extracts it according to the Manner used in
Gresham
College. I recommend it to the Handkerchiefs of all young Pleaders: It cures or supplies all Pauses and Hentations in Speech, and creates a general Alacrity of the Spirit. When it is used as a Gargle, it gives Volubility to the Tongue, and never fails of that necessary Step towards pleasing others, making a Man pleased with himself. I have taken Security of him, That he shall not raise the Price of any of his Commodities for these or any other occult Qualities in them; but he is to sell them at the same Price which you give at the common Perfumers. Mr.
Lillie
has brought further Security, That he will not sell the Boxes made for Politicians to Lovers; nor on the contrary, those proper for Lovers, to Men of Speculation:
At this Time, to avoid Confusion, the best
Orangerie
for Beaus, and right
Multy
for Politicians.
My Almanack is to be published on the 22d, and from that Instant, all Lovers, in Raptures or Epistles, are to forbear the Comparison of their Mistresses Eyes to Stars, I having made Use of that Simile in my Dedication for the last Time it shall ever pass, and on the properest Occasion that it was ever employed. All Ladies are hereby desired to take Notice, that they never receive that Simile in Payment for any Smiles they shall bestow for the future.
On
Saturday
Night last a Gentlewoman's Husband strayed from the Playhouse in the
Hay-Market:
If the Lady, who was seen to take him up, will restore him, she shall be asked no Questions, he being of us Use but to the Owner.
The TATLER. [No 95.
Interea dulces pendent circum Oscula Nati,
Casta Pudicitiam servat Domus. —
Virg.
From
Tuesd. Nov.
15. to
Thursd. Nov.
17. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Nov. 16.
THere are several Persons who have many Pleasures and Entertainments in their Possession which they do not enjoy. It is therefore a kind and good Office to acquaint them with their own Happiness, and turn their Attention to such Instances of their good Fortune which they are apt to overlook. Persons in the married State often want such a Monitor, and pine away their Days, by looking upon the same Condition in Anguish and Murmur, which carries with it in the Opinion of othe s a Complication of all the Pleasures of Life, and a Retreat from its Inquietudes.
I am led into this Thought by a Visit I made an old Friend, who was formerly my School-fellow. He came to Town last Week with his Family for the Winter, and Yesterday Morning sent me Word his Wife expected me to Dinner. I am as it were at Home at that House, and every Member of it knows me for their Well-wisher. I cannot indeed express the Pleasure it is, to be met by the Children with so much Joy as I am when I go thither: The Boys and Girls strive who shall come first when they think it is I that am knocking at the Door; and that Child which loses the Race to me, runs back again to tell the Father it is Mr.
Bickerstaff.
This Day I was led in by a pretty Girl that we all thought must have forgot me; for the Family has been out of Town these Two Years. Her knowing me again was a mighty Subject with us, and took up our Discourse at the first Entrance. After which, they began to rally me upon a Thousand little Stories they heard in the Country about my Marriage to one of my Neighbour's Daughters: Upon which the Gentleman, my Friend, said,
'Nay, if Mr.
Bickerstaff
marries a Child of any of his old Companions, I hope mine shall have the Preference; there's Mrs.
Mary
is now Sixteen, and would make him as fine a Widow as the best of them: But I know him too well; he is so enamour'd with the very Memory of those who flourish'd in our Youth, that he will not so much as look upon the modern Beauties. I remember, old Gentleman, how often you went Home in a Day to refresh your Countenance and Dress when
Teraminta
reign'd in your Heart. As we came up in the Coach, I repeated to my Wife some of your Verses on her."
With such Reflections on little Passages which happened long ago, we passed our Time during a chearful and elegant Meal. After Dinner his Lady left the Room, as did also the Children. As soon as we were alone, he took me by the Hand; Well, my good Friend, says he, I am heartily glad to see thee; I was afraid you would never have seen all the Company that dined with you to Day again. Do not you think the good Woman of the House a little alter'd since you followed her from the Play-house, to find out who she was for me? I perceived a Tear fall down his Cheek as he spoke, which moved me not a little. But to turn the Discourse, said I, She is not indeed quite that Creature she was when she returned me the Letter I carried from you; and told me, She hoped, as I was a Gentleman, I would be employ'd no more to trouble her who had never offended me, but would be so much the Gentleman's Friend as to disswade him from a Pursuit which he could never succeed in. You may remember, I thought her in earnest, and you were forced to employ your Cousin
Will.
who made his Sister get acquainted with her for you. You cannot expect her to be for ever Fifteen. Fifteen? replied my good Friend: Ah! You little understand, you that have lived a Batchelor, how great, how exquisite, a Pleasure there is in being really beloved! It is impossible that the most beauteous Face in Nature should raise in me such pleasing Ideas, as when I look upon that excellent Woman. That Fading in her Countenance is chiefly caused by her watching with me in my Fever. This was followed by a Fit of Sickness, which had like to have carried her off last Winter. I tell you sincerely, I have so many Obligations to her, that I cannot with any Sort of Moderation think of her present State of Health. But as to what you say of Fifteen, she gives me every Day Pleasures beyond what I ever knew in the Possession of her Beauty when I was in the Vigour of Youth. Every Moment of her Life brings me fresh Instances of her Complacency to my Inclinations, and her Prudence in Regard to my Fortune. Her Face is to me much more beautiful than when I first saw it; there is no Decay in any Feature which I cannot trace from the very Instant it was occasioned, by some anxious Concern for my Welfare and Interests. Thus at the same Time, methinks, the Love I conceived towards her for what she was, is heightened by my Gratitude for what she is. The Love of a Wife is as much above the idle Passion commonly called by that Name, as the loud Laughter of Buffoons is inferior to the elegant Mirth of Gentlemen. Oh! she is an inestimable Jewel. In her Examination of her Houshold Affairs, she shows a certain Fearfulness to find a Fault, which makes her Servants obey her like Children; and the meanest we have, has an ingenuous Shame for an Offence, not always to be seen in Children in other Families. I speak freely to you, my old Friend; ever since her Sickness, Things that gave me the quickest Joy before, turn now to a certain Anxiety. As the Children play in the next Room, I know the poor Things by their Steps, and am considering what they must do should they lose their Mother in their tender Years. The Pleasure I used to take in telling my Boy Stories of the Battles, and asking my Girl Questions about the Disposal of her Baby, and the Gossiping of it, is turned into inward Reflection and Melancholy.
He would have gone on in this tender Way, when the good Lady entered, and with an inexpressible Sweetness in her Countenance told us, she had been searching her Closet for something very good to treat such an old Friend as I was. Her Husband's Eyes sparkled with Pleasure at the Chearfulness of her Countenance; and I saw all his Fears vanish in an Instant. The Lady observing something in our Looks which shewed we had been more serious than ordinary, and seeing her Husband receive her with great Concern under a forced Chearfulness, immediately guessed at what we had been talking of; and applying her self to me, said, with a Smile, Mr.
Bickerstaff,
don't believe a Word of what he tells you, I shall still live to have you for my Second, as I have often promised you, unless he takes more Care of himself than he has done since his coming to Town. You must know, he tells me, That he finds
London
is a much more healthy Place than the Country; for he sees several of his old Acquaintance and School-fellows are here, young Fellows with fair full-bottom'd Periwigs. I could scarce keep him this Morning from going out openbreasted. My Friend, who is always extreamly delighted with her agreeable Humour, made her sit down with us. She did it with that Easiness which is peculiar to Women of Sense; and to keep up the good Humour she had brought in with her, turned her Raillery upon me: Mr.
Bickerstaff,
you remember you followed me one Night from the Play-house; supposing you should carry me thither to Morrow Night, and lead me into the Front-Box. This put us into a long Field of Discourse about the Beauties, who were Mothers to the present, and shined in the Boxes Twenty Years ago. I told her, I was glad she had transferred so many of her Charms, and I did not question but her eldest Daughter was within half a Year of being a Toast.
We were pleasing our selves with this fantastical Preferment of the young Lady, when on a sudden we were alarm'd with the Noise of a Drum, and immediately enter'd my little Godson to give me a Point of War. His Mother, between Laughing and Chiding, would have put him out of the Room; but I would not part with him so. I found, upon Conversation with him, though he was a little noisy in his Mirth, that the Child had excellent Parts, and was a great Master of all the Learning on t'other Side Eight Years old. I perceived him a very great Historian in
Aesop
's Fables: But he frankly declared to me his Mind, That he did not delight in that Learning, because he did not believe they were true; for which Reason I found he had very much turned his Studies for about a Twelvemonth past, into the Lives and Adventures of Don
Bellianis
of
Greece, Guy
of
Warwick,
the
Seven Champions,
and other Historians of that Age. I could not but observe the Satisfaction the Father took in the Forwardness of his Son; and that these Diversions might turn to some Profit, I found the Boy had made Remarks, which might be of Service to him during the Course of his whole Life. He would tell you the Mismanagements of
John Hickathrift,
find Fault with the passionate Temper in
Bevis
of
Southampton,
and loved St.
George
for being the Champion of
England;
and by this Means had his Thoughts insensibly moulded into the Notions of Discretion, Virtue, and Honour. I was extolling his Accomplishments, when the Mother told me, That the little Girl, who led me in this Morning, was in her Way a better Scholar than he:
Betty
(says she) deals chiefly in Fairies and Sprights; and sometimes in a Winter Night, will terrifie the Maids with her Accounts, till they are afraid to go up to Bed.
I sat with them till it was very late, sometimes in merry, sometimes in serious Discourse, with this particular Pleasure, which gives the only true Relish to all Conversation, a Sense that every one of us liked each other. I went Home, considering the different Conditions of a married Life and that of a Batchelor; and I must confess, it struck me with a secret Concern, to reflect, that whenever I go off, I shall leave no Traces behind me. In this pensive Mood I returned to my Family; that is to say, to my Maid, my Dog, and my Cat, who only can be the better or worse for what happens to me.
The TATLER. [No 96.
Is mihi demum vivere & frui Animâ videtur, qui alique Negotio intentus, praeclari Facinoris aut Artis bonae Famam quaerit.
Sal.
From
Thursd. Nov.
17. to
Saturd. Nov.
19. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Nov. 17.
IT has cost me very much Care and Thought to marshal and fix the People under their proper Denominations, and to range them according to their respective Characters. These my Endeavours have been received with unexpected Success in one Kind, but neglected in another: For though I have many Readers, I have but few Converts. This must certainly proceed from a false Opinion, That what I write is designed rather to amuse and entertain, than convince and instruct. I enter'd upon my Essays with a Declaration, that I should consider Mankind in quite another Manner than they had hitherto been represented to the ordinary World; and asserted, that none but an useful Life should be with me any Life at all. But lest this Doctrine should have made this small Progress towards the Conviction of Mankind, because it may appear to the Unlearned light and whimsical, I must take Leave to unfold the Wisdom and Antiquity of my first Proposition in these my Essays, to wit, That
every Worthless Man is a Dead Man.
This Notion is as old as
Pythagoras,
in whose School it was a Point of Discipline, That if among the
, or
Probationers,
there were any who grew weary of studying to be useful, and returned to an idle Life, the rest were to regard them as dead; and upon their Departing, to perform their Obsequies, and raise them Tombs with Inscriptions to warn others of the like Mortality, and quicken them to Resolutions of refining their Souls above that wretched State. It is upon a like Supposition, that young Ladies at this very Time in
Roman
-Catholick Countries are receiv'd into some Nunneries with their Coffins, and with the Pomp of a formal Funeral, to signifie, That henceforth they are to be of no further Use, and consequently Dead. Nor was
Pythagoras
himself the first Author of this Symbol, with whom, and with the
Hebrews,
it was generally receiv'd. Much more might be offered in Illustration of this Doctrine from Sacred Authority, which I recommend to my Reader's own Reflection; who will easily recollect, from Places which I do not think fit to quote here, the forcible Manner of applying the Words, Dead and Living, to Men as they are Good or Bad.
I have therefore composed the following Scheme of Existence for the Benefit both of the Living and the Dead, tho' chiefly for the latter, whom I must desire to read it with all possible Attention. In the Number of the Dead, I comprehend all Persons, of what Title or Dignity soever, who bestow most of their Time in Eating and Drinking to support that imaginary Existence of theirs, which they call Life; or in dressing and adorning those Shadows and Apparitions which are look'd upon by the Vulgar as real Men and Women. In short, whoever resides in the World without having any Business in it, and passes away an Age without ever thinking on the Errand for which he was sent hithe
, is to me a Dead Man to all Intents and Purposes; and I desire that he may be so reputed. The Living are only those that are some Way or other laudably employed in the Improvement of their own Minds, or for the Advantage of others; and even among these, I shall only reckon into their Lives that Part of their Time which has been spent in the Manner above-mentioned. By there Means, I am afraid, we shall find the longest Lives not to consist of many Months, and the greatest Part of the Earth to be quite unpeopled. According to this System we may observe, that some Men are born at Twenty Years of Age, some at Thirty, some at Threescore, and some not above an Hour before they die; nay, we may observe Multitudes that die without ever being born, as well as many dead Persons that fill up the Bulk of Mankind, and make a better Figure in the Eyes of the Ignorant, than those who are alive, and in their proper and full State of Health. However, since there may be many good Subjects that pay their Taxes, and live peaceably in their Habitations, who are not yet born, or have departed this Life several Years since, my Design is, to encourage both to join themselves as soon as possible to the Number of the Living: For as I invite the former to break forth into Being, and become good for something, so I allow the latter a State of Refuscitation; which I chiefly mention for the Sake of a Person, who has lately published an Advertisement, with several scurrilous Terms in it, that do by no Means become a dead Man to give: It is my departed Friend
John Partridge,
who conclud
s the Advertisement of his next Year's Almanack with the following Note:
Whereas it has been industriously given out by
Bickerstaff
Esq
and others, to prevent the Sale of this Year's Almanack, That
John Partridge
is Dead: This may inform all his loving Countrymen, That he is still Living, in Health, and they a
Knaves that reported it otherwise.
J.
From my own Apartment,
November 18.
When an Engineer finds his Guns have no
had their intended Effect, he changes his Batteries. I am forced at present to take this Method; and instead of continuing to write against the Singularity some are guilty of in their Habit and Behaviour, I shall henceforward desire them to persevere in it; and not only so, but shall take it as a Favour of all the Coxcombs in the Town if they will set Marks upon themselves, and b
some Particular in their Dress, show to what Cla
they belong. It would be very obliging in a
such Persons, who feel in themselves that they are not sound of Understanding, to give the World Notice of it, and spare Mankind the Pains of finding them out. A Cane upon the Fifth Button, shall from henceforth be the Type of a Dapper; Red-heeled Shoes, and an Hat hung upon one Side of the Head, shall signify a Smart; a good Periwig made into a Twist, with a brisk Cock, shall speak a Mettled Fellow; and an upper Lip covered with Snuff, denotes a Coffee-house Statesman. But as it is required that all Coxcombs hang out their Signs it is on the other Hand expected, that Men of real Merit should avoid any Thing particular is their Dress, Gait, or Behaviour. For, as we old Men delight in Proverbs, I cannot forbear bringing out one on this Occasion,
That good Wi
needs no Bush.
I must not leave this Subject without reflecting on several Persons I have lately met with, who at a Distance seemed very terrible; but upon a stricter Enquiry into their Looks and Features, appeared as meek and harmless as any of my own Neighbours. These are Country Gentlemen, who of late Years have taken up an Humour of coming to Town in Red Coats, whom an arch Wag of my Acquaintance used to describe very well, by calling them Sheep in Wolves Cloathing. I have often wondered, that honest Gentlemen, who are good Neighbours, and live quietly in their own Possessions, should take it in their Heads to frighten the Town after this unreasonable Manner. I shall think my self obliged, if they persist in so unnatural a Dress notwithstanding any Posts they may have in the Militia) to give away their Red Coats to any of the Soldiery who shall think fit to strip them, provided the said Soldiers can make it appear, that they belong to a Regiment where there is a Deficiency in the Cloathing.
About Two Days ago I was walking in the
Park,
and accidentally met a Rural 'Squire, cloathed in all the Types above-mentioned, with a Carriage and Behaviour made entirely out of his own Head. He was of a Bulk and Stature larger than ordinary, had a Red Coat, flung open to show a gay Calamanco Wastcoat: His Periwig fell in a very considerable Bush upon each Shoulder: His Arms naturally swang at an unreasonable Distance from his Sides; which with the Advantage of a Cane, that he brandished in a great Variety of irregular Motions, made it unsafe for any one to walk within several Yards of him. In this Manner he took up the whole
Mall,
his Spectators moving on each Side of it, whilst he cocked up his Hat, and marched directly for
Westminster.
I cannot tell who this Gentleman is, but for my Comfort may say, with the Lover in
Terence,
who lost Sight of a fine young Lady;
Wherever thou art, Thou canst not be long concealed.
St. James's Coffee-house,
November 18.
By Letters from
Paris
of the 16th we are informed, that the
French
King, the Princes of the Blood, and the Elector of
Bavaria,
had lately killed Fifty five Pheasants.
Whereas several have industriously spread abroad, That I am in Partnership with
Charles Lillie,
the Perfumer at the Corner of
Beauford-Buildings;
I must say with my Friend
Partridge,
that they are Knaves who reported it. However, since the said
Charles
has promised that all his Customers shall be mine, I must desire all mine to be his; and dare answer for him, that if you ask in my Name for Snuff. Hungary or Orange-Water, you shall have the best the Town affords at the cheapest Rate.
The TATLER. [No 97.
Illed maxime rarum genus est eorum, qui ant excellente ingenii magnitudine, aut praeclara eruditione atque doctrina, aut utraque re ornati, Spatium deliberandi habuerunt, quem potissimum vitae cursum sequi vellent.
Tull. Offic.
F
om
Saturd. Nov.
19. to
Tuesd. Nov.
22. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
November 21.
HAving swept away prodigious Multitudes in my last Paper, and brought a great Destruction upon my own Species, I must endeavour in this to raise fresh Recruits, and, if possible, to supply the Places of the Unborn and the Deceased. It is said of
Xerxes,
That when he stood upon a Hill, and saw the whole Country round him covered with his Army, he burst out in Tears, to think that not one of that Multitude would be alive a Hundred Years after. For my Part, when I take a Survey of this populous City, I can scarce forbear weeping, to see how few of its Inhabitants are now living. It was with this Thought that I drew up my last Bill of Mortality, and endeavoured to set out in it the great Number of Persons who have perished by a Distemper (commonly known by the Name of Idleness) which has long raged in the World, and destroys more in every great Town than the Plague has done at
Dantzick.
To repair the Mischief it has done, and stock the World with a better Race of Mortals, I have more Hopes of bringing to Life those that are young, than of reviving those that are old. For which Reason, I shall here set down that noble Allegory which was written by an old Author called
Prodicus,
but recommended and embellished by
Socrates.
It is the Description of
Virtue
and
Pleasure,
making their Court to
Hercules
under the Appearances of Two beautiful Women.
When
Hercules,
says the divine Moralist, was in that Part of his Youth in which it was natural for him to consider what Course of Life he ought to pursue, he one Day retired into a Desart, where the Silence and Solitude of the Place very much favoured his Meditations. As he was musing on his present Condition, and very much perplexed in himself on the State of Life he should chuse, he saw Two Women of a larger Stature than ordinary approaching towards him. One of them had a very noble Air, and graceful Deportment; her Beauty was natural and easy, her Person clean and unspotted, her Eyes cast towards the Ground with an agreeable Reserve, her Motion and Behaviour full of Modesty, and her Raiment as white as Snow. The other had a great deal of Health and Floridness in her Countenance, which she had helped with an artificial White and Red, and endeavour'd to appear more graceful than ordinary in her Mien, by a Mixture of Affectation in all her Gestures. She had a wonderful Confidence and Assurance in her Looks, and all the Variety of Colours in her Dress that she thought were the most proper to show her Complexion to an Advantage. She cast her Eyes upon her self, then turned them on those that were present, to see how they liked her, and often looked on the Figure she made in her own Shadow. Upon her nearer Approach to
Hercules,
she stepped before the other Lady, (who came forward with a regular composed Carriage) and running up to him, accosted him after the following Manner:
My dear
Hercules,
(says she) I find you are very much divided in your own Thoughts upon the Way of Life that you ought to chuse: Be my Friend, and follow me; I'll lead you into the Possession of Pleasure, and out of the Reach of Pain, and remove you from all the Noise and Disquietude of Business. The Affairs of either War or Peace shall have no Power to disturb you. Your whole Employment shall be to make your Life easy, and to entertain every Sense with its proper Gratification Sumptuous Tables, Beds of Roses, Clouds of Perfumes, Consorts of Musick, Crowds of Beauties, are all in a Readiness to receive you. Come along with me into this Region of Delights, this World of Pleasure, and bid Farewel for ever to Care, to Pain, to Business—
Hercules
hearing the Lady talk after this Manner, desired to know her Name; to which she answered, My Friends, and those who are well acquainted with me, call me
Happiness;
but my Enemies, and those who would injure my Reputation, have given me the Name of
Pleasure.
By this Time the other Lady was come up, who addressed her self to the young Hero in a very different Manner.
Hercules,
(says she) I offer my self to you, because I know you are descended from the Gods, and give Proofs of that Descent by your Love to Virtue, and Application to the Studies proper for your Age. This makes me hope you will gain both for your self and me an immortal Reputation. But before I invite you into my Society and Friendship, I will be open and sincere with you, and must lay down this as an establish'd Truth, That there is nothing truly valuable which can be purchased without Pains and Labour. The Gods have set a Price upon every real and noble Pleasure. If you would gain the Favour of the Derty, you must be at the Pains of worshipping him; if the Friendship of good Men, you must study to oblige them; if you would be honour'd by your Country, you must take Care to serve it. In short, if you would be eminent in War or Peace, you must become Master of all the Qualifications that can make you so. These are the only Terms and Conditions upon which I can propose Happiness. The Goddess of
Pleasure
here broke in upon her Discourse: You see (said she)
Hercules,
by her own Confession, the Way to her Pleasures is long and difficult, whereas that which I propose is short and easy. Alas! (said the other Lady) whose Visage glowed with a Passion, made up of Scorn and Pity, what are the Pleasures you propose? To eat before you are hungry, drink before you are athirst, sleep before you are tired, to gratify Appetites before they are raised, and raise such Appetites as Nature never planted. You never heard the most delicious Musick, which is the Praise of ones self; nor saw the most beautiful Object, which is the Work of ones own Hands. Your Votaries pass away their Youth in a Dream of mistaken Pleasures, while they are hoarding up Anguish, Torment, and Remorse, for old Age.
As for me, I am the Friend of Gods and of good Men, an agreeable Companion to the Artizan, an Houshold Guardian to the Fathers of Families, a Patron and Protector of Servants, an Associate in all true and generous Friendships. The Banquets of my Votaries are never costly, but always delicious; for none eat or drink at them who are not invited by Hunger and Thirst. Their Slumbers are sound, and their Wakings chearful. My young Men have the Pleasure of hearing themselves praised by those who are in Years, and those who are in Years of being honour'd by those who are young. In a Word, my Followers are favour'd by the Gods, beloved by their Acquaintance, esteem'd by their Country, and (after the Close of their Labours) honoured by Posterity.
We know by the Life of this memorable Hero, to which of these Two Ladies he gave up his Heart; and I believe, every one who reads this, will do him the Justice to approve his Choice.
I very much admire the Speeches of these Ladies, as containing in them the chief Arguments for a Life of Virtue or a Life of Pleasure that could enter into the Thoughts of an Heathen; but am particularly pleased with the different Figures he gives the Two Goddesses. Our modern Authors have represented Pleasure or Vice with an alluring Face, but ending in Snakes and Monsters: Here she appears in all the Charms of Beauty, tho' they are all false and borrowed; and by that Means, composes a Vision entirely natural and pleasing.
I have translated this Allegory for the Benefit of the Youth of
Great Britain;
and particularly of those who are still in the deplorable State of Non-Existence, and whom I most earnestly entreat to come into the World. Let my Embrio's show the least Inclination to any single Virtue, and I shall allow it to be a Struggling towards Birth. I don't expect of them, that, like the Hero in the foregoing Story, they should go about as soon as they are born, with a Club in their Hands, and a Lion's Skin on their Shoulders, to root out Monsters, and destroy Tyrants; but as the finest Author of all Antiquity has said upon this very Occasion, Though a Man has not the Abilities to distinguish himself in the most shining Parts of a great Character, he has certainly the Capacity of being just, faithful, modest, and temperate.
The TATLER. [No 98.
From
Tuesd. Nov.
22. to
Thursd. Nov.
24. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
November 23.
I Read the following Letter, which was left for me this Evening, with very much Concern for the Lady's Condition who sent it, who expresses the State of her Mind with great Frankness, as all People ought who talk to their Physicians.
Mr.
Bickerstaff,
THough you are stricken in Years, and have had great Experience in the World, I believe you will say, there are not frequently such difficult Occasions to act in with Decency as those wherein I am entangled. I am a Woman in Love, and that you will allow to be the most unhappy of all Circumstances in humane Life: Nature has formed us with a strong Reluctance against owning such a Passion, and Custom has made it Criminal in us to make Advances. A Gentleman, whom I will call
Fabio,
has the entire Possession of my Heart. I am so intimately acquainted with him, that he makes no Scruple of communicating to me an ardent Affection he has for
Cleora,
a Friend of mine, who also makes me her Confident. Most Part of my Life I am in Company with the one or the other, and am always entertained with his Passion, or her Triumph.
Cleora
is one of those Ladies, who think they are virtuous, if they are not guilty; and without any Delicacy of Choice, resolves to take the best Offer which shall be made to her. With this Prospect she puts off declaring her self in Favour of
Fabio,
till she sees what Lovers will fall into her Snares, which she lays in all Publick Places with all the Art of Gesture and Glances. This Resolution she has her self told me. Though I love him better than Life, I would not gain him by betraying
Cleora,
or committing such a Trespass against Modesty, as letting him know my self that I love him. You are an Astrologer, What shall I do?
Diana Doubtful.
This Lady has said very justly, that the Condition of a Woman in Love is of all others the most miserable. Poor
Diana!
How must she be rack'd with Jealousy when
Fabio
talks of
Cleora?
How with Indignation when
Cleora
makes a Property of
Fabio?
A Female Lover is in the Condition of a Ghost, that wanders about its beloved Treasure, without Power to speak till it is spoken to. I desire
Diana
to continue in this Circumstance; for I see an Eye of Comfort in her Case, and will take all proper Measures to extricate her out of this unhappy Game of Cross Purposes. Since
Cleora
is upon the Catch with her Charms, and has no particular Regard for
Fabio,
I shall place a Couple of special Fellows in her Way, who shall both address to her, and have each a better Estate than
Fabio.
They are both already taken with her, and are preparing for being of her Retinue the ensuing Winter.
To Women of this worldly Turn, as I apprehend
Cleora
to be, we must reckon backward in our Computation of Merit; and when a fair Lady thinks only of making her Spouse a convenient Domestick, the Notion of Worth and Value is altered, and the Lover is the more acceptable, the less he is considerable. The Two I shall throw in the Way of
Cleora,
are,
Orson Thickett
and Mr.
Walter Wisdom. Orson
is an Huntsman, whose Father's Death, and some Difficulties about Legacies, brought out of the Woods to Town last
November.
He was at that Time one of those Country Salvages who despise the Softness they meet in Town and Court, and professedly show their Strength and Roughness in every Motion and Gesture, in Scorn of our Bowing and Cringing. He was at his first Appearance very remarkable for that Piece of good Breeding peculiar to natural
Britons,
to wit, Defiance, and showed every one he met he was as good a Man as he. But in the Midst of all this Fierceness, he would sometimes attend the Discourse of a Man of Sense, and look at the Charms of a Beauty with his Eyes and Mouth open. He was in this Posture when, in the Beginning of last
December,
he was shot by
Cleora
from a Side-Box—From that Moment he softened into Humanity, forgot his Dogs and Horses, and now moves and speaks with Civility and Address.
Wat. Wisdom,
by the Death of an elder Brother, came to a great Estate, when he had proceeded just far enough into his Studies to be very impertinent, and at the Y
ars when the Law gives him Possession of his Fortune, and his own Constitution is too warm for the Management of it.
Orson
is learning to fence and dance, to please and fight for his Mistress; and
Walter
preparing fine Horses, and a gingling Chariot, to enchant her. All Persons concerned will appear at the next Opera, where will begin the Wild-Goose Chase; and I doubt,
Fabio
will see himself so over-looked for
Orson
or
Walter,
as to turn his Eyes on the modest Passion and becoming Languor in the Countenance of
Diana;
it being my Design to supply with the Art of Love all those who preserve the sincere Passion of it.
Will's Coffee-house,
November 23.
An ingenious and worthy Gentleman, my ancient Friend, fell into Discourse with me this Evening upon the Force and Efficacy which the Writings of good Poets have on the Minds of their intelligent Readers, and recommended to me his Sense of the Matter, thrown together in the following Manner, which he desired me to communicate to the Youth of
Great Britain
in my Essays; which I chuse to do in his own Words.
I have always been of Opinion, (says he) that Virtue sinks deepest into the Heart of Man, when it comes recommended by the powerful Charms of Poetry. The most active Principle in our Mind is the Imagination: To it a good Poet makes his Court perpetually, and by this Faculty takes Care to gain it first. Our Passions and Inclinations come over next; and our Reason surrenders it self with Pleasure in the End. Thus the whole Soul is insensibly betrayed into Morality, by bribing the Fancy with beautiful and agreeable Images of those very Things, that in the Books of the Philosophers appear austere, and have at the best but a kind of forbidden Aspect. In a Word, the Poets do, as it were, strew the rough Paths of Virtue so full of Flowers, that we are not sensible of the Uneasiness of them, and imagine our selves in the Midst of Pleasures, and the most bewitching Allurements, at the Time we are making a Progress in the severest Duties of Life.
All then agree, that licentious Poems do of all Writings soonest corrupt the Heart: And why should we not be as universally perswaded, that the grave and serious Performances of such as write in the most engaging Manner, by a kind of divine Impulse, must be the most effectual Perswasives to Goodness? If therefore I were blessed with a Son, in order to the forming of his Manners, (which is making him truly my Son) I should be continually putting into his Hand some sine Poet. The graceful Sentences, and the manly Sentiments so frequently to be met with in every great and sublime Writer, are, in my Judgment, the most ornamental and valuable Furniture that can be for a young Gentleman's Head; methinks they shew like so much rich Embroidery upon the Brain. Let me add to this, That Humanity and Tenderness (without which there can be no true Greatness in the Mind) are inspired by the Muses in such pathetical Language, that all we find in Prose-Authors towards the raising and improving of these Passions, is in Comparison but cold, or luke-warm at the best. There is besides a certain Elevation of Soul, a sedate Magnanimity, and a noble Turn of Virtue, that distinguishes the Hero from the plain, honest Man, to which Verse can only raise us. The bold Metaphors and founding Numbers, peculiar to the Poets, rouze up all our sleeping Faculties, and alarm the whole Powers of the Soul, much like that excellent Trumpeter mentioned by
Virgil:
— Quo non praestantior alter
Aere ciere Viros, Martemque accendere Cantu.
I fell into this Train of Thinking this Evening, upon reading a Passage in a Mask writ by
Milton,
where two Brothers are introduced seeking after their Sister, whom they had lost in a dark Night and thick Wood. One of the Brothers is apprehensive lest the wandering Virgin should be overpowered with Fears through the Darkness and Loneliness of the Time and Place. This gives the other Occasion to make the following Reflections, which, as I read them, made me forget my Age, and renewed in me the warm Desires after Virtue, so natural to uncorrupted Youth.
I do not think my Sister so to se
k,
Or so unprincipled in Virtue's Book,
And the sweet Peace that Goodness bosoms ever,
As that the single Want of Light and Noise
(Not being in Danger, as I trust she is not)
Could stir the constant Mood of her calm Thoughts,
And put them into misbecoming Plight.
Virtue could see to do what Virtue would,
By her own radiant Light, tho' Sun and Moon
Were in the flat Sea sunk. And Wisdom's self
Oft seeks to sweet retired Solitude:
Where, with her best Nurse, Contemplation,
She plumes her Feathers, and lets grow her Wings,
That in the various Bustle of Resort
Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impaired.
He that has Light within his own clear Breast,
May sit i'th' Center, and enjoy bright Day:
But he that hides a dark Soul, and soul Thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid day Sun;
Himself is his own Dungeon.
The TATLER. [No 99.
— Spirat Tragicum satis & feliciter audet.
From
Thursd. Nov.
24 to
Saturd. Nov.
26. 1709.
Will's Coffee-house,
November 25.
I Have been this Evening recollecting what Passages (since I could first think) have left the strongest Impressions upon my Mind; and after strict Enquiry, I am convinced, that the Impulses I have received from Theatrical Representations, have had a greater Effect, than otherwise would have been wrought in me by the little Occurrences of my private Life. My old Friends,
Hart
and
Mohun;
the one by his natural and proper Force, the other by his great Skill and Art, never failed to send me Home full of such Idea's as affected my Behaviour, and made me insensibly more courteous and humane to my Friends and Acquaintance. It is not the Business of a good Play to make every Man an Hero; but it certainly gives him a livelier Sense of Virtue and Merit than he had when he entered the Theatre.
This rational Pleasure (as I always call it) has for many Years been very little tasted: But I am glad to find, that the true Spirit of it is reviving again amongst us, by a due Regard to what is presented, and by supporting only one Playhouse. It has been within the Observation of the youngest amongst us, That while there were Two Houses, they did not outvie each other by such Representations as tended to the Instruction and Ornament of Life, but by introducing mimical Dances, and fulsome Buffoonries. For when an excellent Tragedy was to be acted in one House, the Ladder-Dancer carried the whole Town to the other: And indeed such an Evil as this, must be the natural Consequence of Two Theatres, as certainly as that there are more who can see than can think. Every one is sensible of the Danger of the Fellow on the Ladder, and can see his Activity in coming down safe; but very few are Judges of the Distress of an Hero in a Play, or of his Manner of Behaviour in those Circumstances. Thus, to please the People, Two Houses must entertain them with what they can understand, and not with Things which are designed to improve their Understanding: And the readiest Way to gain good Audiences, must be to offer such Things as are most relished by the Crowd; that is to say, immodest Action, empty Show, or impertinent Activity. In short, Two Houses cannot hope to subsist, but by Means which are contradictory to the very Institution of a Theatre in a well-govern'd Kingdom.
I have ever had this Sense of the Thing, and for that Reason have rejoiced that my ancient coeval Friend of
Drury-Lane,
though he had sold off most of his Moveables, still kept Possession of his Palace, and trembled for him, when he had lately like to have been taken by a Stratagem. There have for many Ages been a certain Learned Sort of Unlearned Men in this Nation called Attornies, who have taken upon them to solve all Difficulties by increasing them, and are called upon to the Assistance of all who are lazy, or weak of Understanding. The Insolence of a Ruler of this Place made him resign the Possession of it to the Management of my above-mentioned Friend
Divito. Divito
was too Modest to know when to resign it, till he had the Opinion and Sentence of the Law for his Removal. Both these in Length of Time were obtained against him: But as the great
Archimedes
defended
Syracuse
with so powerful Engines, that if he threw a Rope or Piece of Wood over the Wall, the Enemy fled; so
Divito
had wounded all Adversaries with so much Skill, that Men feared even to be in the Right against him. For this Reason, the lawful Ruler sets up an Attorney to expel an Attorney, and chose a Name dreadful to the Stage, who only seemed able to beat
Divito
out of his Intrenchments.
On the 22d Instant, a Night of publick Rejoycing, the Enemies of
Divito
made a Largess to the People of Faggots, Tubs, and other Combustible Matter, which was erected into a Bonfire before the Palace. Plentiful Cans were at the same Time distributed among the Dependences of that Principality; and the artful Rival of
Divito
observing them prepared for Enterprize, presented the lawful Owner of the neighbouring Edifice, and showed his Deputation under him. War immediately ensued upon the peaceful Empire of Wit and the Muses; the
Goths
and
Vandals
sacking
Rome
did not threaten a more barbarous Devastation of Arts and Sciences. But when they had forced their Entrance, the experienced
Divito
had detached all his Subjects, and evacuated all his Stores. The neighbouring Inhabitants report, That the Refuse of
Divito
's Followers marched off the Night before disguised in Magnificence; Door-Keepers came out clad like Cardinals, and Scene Drawers like Heathen Gods.
Divito
himself was wrapped up in one of his black Clouds, and left to the Enemy nothing but any empty Stage, full of Trap-Doors, known only to himself and his Adherents.
From my own Apartment,
November 25.
I have already taken great Pains to inspire Notions of Honour and Virtue into the People of this Kingdom, and used all gentle Methods imaginable, to bring those who are dead in Idleness, Folly, and Pleasure, into Life, by applying themselves to Learning, Wisdom, and Industry. But since fair Means are ineffectual, I must proceed to Extremities, and shall give my good Friends the Company of Upholders, full Power to bury all such Dead as they meet with, who are within my former Descriptions of deceased Persons. In the mean Time the following Remonstrance of that Corporation I take to be very just.
From our Office near the
Hay-market,
Nov. 23.
Worthy SIR,
UPon reading your
Tatler
of
Saturday
last, by which we received the agreeable News of so many Deaths, we immediately ordered in a considerable Quantity of Blacks; and our Servants have wrought Night and Day ever since to furnish out the Necessaries for these Deceased. But so it is, Sir, that of this vast Number of dead Bodies, that go putrifying up and down the Streets, not one of them has come to us to be buried. Tho' we should be loth to be any Hindrance to our good Friends the Physicians, yet we cannot but take Notice, what Infection Her Majesty's Subjects are liable to from the horrible Stench of so many Corpses. Sir, we will not detain you; our Case in short is this: Here are we embark'd, in this Undertaking for the Publick Good: Now if People shall be suffered to go on unburied at this Rate, there's an End of the usefulest Manufactures and Handicrafts of the Kingdom: For where will be your Sextons, Coffin-Makers, and Plummers? What will become of your Embalmers, Epitaph-Mongers, and Chief Mourners? We are loth to drive this Matter any further, tho' we tremble at the Consequences of it: For it it shall be left to every dead Man's Discretion not to be buried till he sees his Time, no Man can say where that will end; but thus much we will take upon us to affirm, That
such a Toleration will be intolerable.
What would make us easy in this Matter, is no more but that your Worship would be pleased to issue out your Orders to
ditto
Dead to repair forthwith to our Office, in order to their Interrment, where constant Attendance shall be given to treat with all Persons according to their Quality, and the Poor to be buried for nothing: And for the Convenience of such Persons as are willing enough to be dead, but that they are afraid their Friends and Relations should know it, we have a Back-Door into
Warwick-street,
from whence they may be interred with all Secrecy imaginable, and without Loss of Time, or Hinderance of Business. But in case of Obstinacy, (for we would gladly make a thorough Riddance) we desire a further Power from your Worship, to take up such Deceased as shall not have complied with your first Orders, wherever we meet them: And if after that there shall be Complaints of any Persons so offending, let them lie at our Doors. We are
Your Worship's till Death,
The Master and Company of Upholders.
P. S.
We are ready to give in our printed Proposals at large; and if your Worship approves of our Undertaking, we desire the following Advertisement may be inserted in your next Paper.
Whereas a Commission of Interrment has been awarded against Dr.
John Partridge,
Philomath, Professor of Physick and Astrology; and whereas the said
Partridge
hath not surrendred himself, nor shown Cause to the contrary; These are to certify, That the Company of Upholders will proceed to bury him from
Cordwainers
-Hall, on
Tuesday
the 29th Instant, where any Six of his surviving Friends, who still believe him to be alive, are desired to come prepared to hold up the Pall.
Note,
We shall light away at Six in the Evening, there being to be a Sermon.
The TATLER. [No 100.
I am redit & Virgo, redeunt Saturnia Regna.
Virg.
From
Saturd. Nov.
26. to
Tuesd. Nov.
29. 1709.
Sheer-Lane,
November 28.
I Was last Week taking a solitary Walk in the Garden of
Lincoln's-Inn,
(a Favour that is indulged me by several of the Benchers who are my intimate Friends, and grown old with me in this Neighbourhood) when, according to the Nature of Men in Years, who have made but little Progress in the Advancement of their Fortune or their Fame, I was repining at the sudden Rise of many Persons who are my Juniors, and indeed at the unequal Distribution of Wealth, Honour, and all other Blessings of Life. I was lost in this Thought when the Night came upon me, and drew my Mind into a far more agreeable Contemplation. The Heaven above me appeared in all its Glories, and presented me with such an Hemisphere of Stars, as made the most agreeable Prospect imaginable to one who delights in the Study of Nature. It happened to be a freezing Night, which had purified the whole Body of Air into such a bright transparent Aether, as made every Constellation visible; and at the same Time gave such a particular Glowing to the Stars, that I thought it the richest Sky I had ever seen. I could not behold a Scene so wonderfully adorned and lighted up, (if I may be allowed that Expression) without suitable Meditations on the Author of such illustrious and amasing Objects. For on these Occasions, Philosophy suggests Motives to Religion, and Religion adds Pleasures to Philosophy.
As soon as I had recovered my usual Temper and Serenity of Soul, I retired to my Lodgings with the Satisfaction of having passed away a few Hours in the proper Employments of a reasonable Creature, and promising my self that my Slumbers would be sweet. I no sooner fell into them, but I dreamed a Dream, or saw a Vision (for I know not which to call it) that seemed to rise out of my Evening-Meditation, and had something in it so solemn and serious, that I cannot forbear communicating it; tho' I must confess, the Wildness of Imagination (which in a Dream is always loose and irregular) discovers it self too much in several Parts of it.
Methoughts I saw the same Azure Sky diversified with the same glorious Luminaries which had entertained me a little before I fell asleep. I was looking very attentively on that Sign in the Heavens which is called by the Name of the
Ballance,
when on a sudden there appear'd in it an extraordinary Light, as if the Sun should rise at Midnight. By its increasing in Breadth and Lustre, I soon found that it approached towards the Earth; and at length could discern something like a Shadow hovering in the Midst of a great Glory, which in a little Time after I distinctly perceived to be the Figure of a Woman. I fancied at first it might have been the Angel, or Intelligence that guided the Constellation from which it descended; but upon a nearer View, I saw about her all the Emblems with which the Goddess of Justice is usually describ'd. Her Countenance was unspeakably awful and majestick, but exquisitely beautiful to those whose Eyes were strong enough to behold it; her Smiles transported with Rapture, her Frowns terrified to Despair. She held in her Hand a Mirror, endowed with the same Qualities as that which the Painters put into the Hand of
Truth.
There streamed from it a Light, which distinguished it self from all the Splendors that surrounded her, more than a Flash of Lightning shines in the Midst of Day-light. As she moved it in her Hand, it brightened the Heavens, the Air, or the Earth. When she had descended so low as to be seen and heard by Mortals, to make the Pomp of her Appearance more supportable, she threw Darkness and Clouds about her, that tempered the Light into a Thousand beautiful Shades and Colours, and multiplied that Lustre, which was before too strong and dazling, into a Variety of milder Glories.
In the mean Time the World was in an Alarm, and all the Inhabitants of it gathered together upon a spacious Plain; so that I seemed to have the whole Species before my Eyes. A Voice was heard from the Clouds, declaring the Intention of this Visit, which was, to restore and appropriate to every one living what was his Due. The Fear and Hope, Joy and Sorrow, which appeared in that great Assembly after this solemn Declaration, a
not to be expressed. The first Edict was then pronounced,
That all Titles and Claims to Riches and Estates, or to any part of'em, should be immediately vested in the rightful Owner.
Upon this, the Inhabitants of the Earth held up the Instruments of their Tenure, whether in Parchment, Paper, Wax, or any other Form of Conveyance; and as the Goddess moved the Mirror of Truth which she held in her Hand, so that the Light which flowed from it fell upon the Multitude, they examined the several Instruments by the Beams of it. The Rays of this Mirror had a particular Quality of setting Fire to all Forgery and Falshood. The Blaze of Papers, the Melting of Seals, and Crackling of Parchments, made a very odd Scene. The Fire very often ran through two or three Lines only, and then stopped. Tho' I could not but observe, that the Flame chiefly broke out among the Interlineations and Codicils, the Light of the Mirror, as it was turned up and down, pierced into all the dark Corners and Recesses of the Universe, and by that Means detected many Writings and Records which had been hidden or buried by Time, Chance or Design. This occasioned a wonderful Revolution among the People. At the same Time, the Spoils of Extortion, Fraud and Robbery, with all the Fruits of Bribery and Corruption, were thrown together into a prodigious Pile, that almost reached to the Clouds, and was called,
The Mount of Restitution;
to which all injured Persons were invited to receive what belonged to them.
One might see Crowds of People in tattered Garments come up, and changed Clothes with others that were dressed with Lace and Embroidery. Several who were Plumbs, or very near it, became Men of moderate Fortunes; and many others, who were overgrown in Wealth and Possessions, had no more left than what they usually spent. What moved my Concern most, was, to see a certain Street of the greatest Credit in
Europe
from one End to the other become Bankrupt.
The next Command was, for the whole Body of Mankind to separate themselves into their proper Families; which was no sooner done, but an Edict was issued out, requiring all Children
to repair to their True and Natural Fathers.
This put a great Part of the Assembly in Motion; for as the Mirror was moved over them, it inspired every one with such a natural Instinct, as directed them to their real Parents. It was a very melancholy Spectacle to see the Fathers of very large Families become Childless, and Batchelors undone by a Charge of Sons and Daughters. You might see a Presumptive Heir of a great Estate ask Blessing of his Coachman, and a celebrated Toast paying her Duty to a
Valet de Chambre.
Many under Vows of Celibacy appeared surrounded with a numerous Issue. This Change of Parentage would have caused great Lamentation, but that the Calamity was pretty common; and that generally those who lost their Children, had the Satisfaction of seeing them put into the Hands of their dearest Friends. Men were no sooner settled in their Right to their Possessions and their Progeny, but there was a Third Order proclaimed,
That all the Posts of Dignity and Honour in the Universe should be conferred on Persons of the greatest Merit, Abilities and Perfection.
The Handsome, the Strong, and the Wealthy, immediately pressed forward; but not being able to bear the Splendor of the Mirror which played upon their Faces, they immediately fell back among the Crowd: But as the Goddess tried the Multitude by her Glass, as the Eagle does its young Ones by the Lustre of the Sun, it was remarkable, that every one turned away his Face from it who had not distinguished himself either by Virtue, Knowledge, or Capacity in Business, either Military or Civil. This Select Assembly was drawn up in the Centre of a prodigious Multitude, which was diffused on all Sides, and stood observing them, as idle People use to gather about a Regiment that are exercising their Arms. They were drawn up in Three Bodies: In the First, were the Men of Virtue; in the Second, Men of Knowledge; and in the Third, the Men of Business. It was impossible to look at the first Column without a secret Veneration, their Aspects were so sweetned with Humanity, raised with Contemplation, emboldened with Resolution, and adorned with the most agreeable Airs, which are those that proceed from secret Habits of Virtue. I could not but take Notice, That there were many Faces among them which were unknown, not only to the Multitude, but even to several of their own Body.
In the Second Column, consisting of the Men of Knowledge, there had been great Disputes before they fell into the Ranks, which they did not do at last, without the positive Command of the Goddess who presided over the Assembly. She had so ordered it, that Men of the greatest Genius and strongest Sense were placed at the Head of the Column: Behind these, were such as had formed their Minds very much on the Thoughts and writings of others. In the Rear of the Column, were Men who had more Wit than Sense, or more Learning than Understanding. All living Authors of any Value were ranged in one of these Classes; but I must confess, I was very much surprised to see a great Body of Editors, Criticks, Commentators and Grammarians, meet with so very ill a Reception. They had formed themselves into a Body, and with a great deal of Arrogance demanded the first Station in the Column of Knowledge; but the Goddess, instead of complying with their Request, clapped them all into Liveries, and bid them know themselves for no other but Lacques of the Learned.
The Third Column were Men of Business, and consisting of Persons in Military and Civil Capacities. The former marched out from the rest, and placed themselves in the Front; at which the other shook their Heads at them, but did not think fit to dispute the Post with them. I could not but make several Observations upon this last Column of People; but I have certain private Reasons why I do not think fit to communicate them to the Publick. In order to fill up all the Posts of Honour, Dignity, and Profit, there was a Draught made out of each Column of Men, who were Masters of all Three Qualifications in some Degree, and were preferred to Stations of the first Rank. The second Draught was made out of such as were possessed of any Two of the Qualifications, who were disposed of in Stations of a second Dignity. Those who were left, and were endowed only with one of them, had their suitable Posts. When this was over, there remained many Places of Trust and Profit unfilled, for which there were fresh Draughts made out of the surrounding Multitude, who had any Appearance of these Excellencies, or were recommended by those who possessed them in Reality.
All were surprised to see so many new Faces in the most eminent Dignities; and for my own Part, I was very well pleased to see that all my Friends either kept their present Posts, or were advanced to higher.
Having filled my Paper with those Particulars of my Vision which concern the Male Part of Mankind, I must reserve for another Occasion the Sequel of it, which relates to the Fair Sex.
The TATLER. [No 101.
— Postquam fregit subsellia versu
Esurit intactam Paridi nisi vendit Agaven.
Juv.
From
Tuesday Nov.
29. to
Thursday Dec.
1. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
November 30.
THE Progress of my intended Account of what happened when
Justice
visited Mortals, is at present interrupted by the Observation and Sense of an Injustice against which there is no Remedy, even in a Kingdom more happy in the Care taken of the Liberty and Property of the Subject, than any other Nation upon Earth This Inquiry is committed by a most impregnable Set of Mortals, Men who are Rogues within the Law; and in the very Commission of what they are guilty of, professedly own, that they forbear no Injury but from the Terror of being punished for it. These Miscreants are a Set of Wretches we Authors call Pirates, who print any Book, Poem, or Sermon, as soon as it appears in the World, in a smaller Volume, and sell it (as all other Thieves do stolen Goods) at a cheaper Rate. I was in my Rage calling them Rascals, Plunderers, Robbers, Highwaymen-But they acknowledge all that, and are pleased with those, as well as any other Titles, nay, will print them themselves to turn the Penny.
I am extremely at a Loss how to act against such open Enemies, who have not Shame enough to be touched with our Reproaches, and are as well defended against what we can say, as what we can do. Railing therefore we must turn into Complaint, which I cannot forbear making, when I consider that all the Labours of my long Life may be disappointed by the first Man that pleases to rob me. I had flattered my self, that my Stock of Learning was worth 150
l. per Annum,
which would very handsomely maintain me and my little Family, who are so happy or so wise as to want only Necessaries. Before Men had come up to this bare-faced Impudence, it was an Estate to have a Competency of Understanding.
An ingenious Drole, who is since dead, (and indeed it is well for him he is so, for he must have starved had he lived to this Day) used to give me an Account of his good Husbandry in the Management of his Learning. He was a general Dealer, and had his Amusements as well comical as serious. The merry Rogue said, when he wanted a Dinner, he writ a Paragraph of
Table-Talk,
and his Bookseller upon Sight paid the Reckoning. He was a very good Judge of what would please the People, and could aptly hit both the Genius of his Readers, and the Season of the Year in his Writings. His Brain, which was his Estate, had as regular and different Produce as other Mens Land. From the Beginning of
November
till the Opening of the Campaigne, he writ Pamphlets and Letters to Members of Parliament, or Friends in the Country. But sometimes he would relieve his ordinary Readers with a Murder, and lived comfortably a Week or Two upon
strange and lamentable Accidents.
A little before the Armies took the Field, his Way was to open your Attention with a Prodigy; and a Monster well writ, was Two Guinea's the lowest Price. This prepared his Readers for
his Great and Bloody News
from
Flanders
in
June
and
July.
Poor
Tom!
He is gone—But I observed, he always looked well after a Battle, and was apparently fatter in a fighting Year. Had this honest careless Fellow lived till now, Famine had stared him in the Face, and interrupted his Merriment; as it must be a solid Affliction to all those whose Pen is their Portion. As for my Part, I do not speak wholly for my own Sake in this Point; for Palmistry and Astrology will bring me in greater Gains than these my Papers; so that I am only in the Condition of a Lawyer, who leaves the Bar for Chamber-Practice. However, I may be allowed to speak in the Cause of Learning it self, and lament, that a liberal Education is the only one which a polite Nation makes unprofitable. All Mechanick Artizans are allowed to reap the Fruit of their Invention and Ingenuity without Invasion; but he that has separated himself from the rest of Mankind, and studied the Wonders of the Creation, the Government of his Passions, and the Revolutions of the World, and has an Ambition to communicate the Effect of half his Life spent in such noble Enquiries, has no Property in what he is willing to produce, but is exposed to Robbery and Want, with this melancholy and just Reflection, That he is the only Man who is not protected by his Country, at the same Time that he best deserves it. According to the ordinary Rules of Computation, the greater the Adventure is, the greater ought to be the Profit of those who succeed in it; and by this Measure, none have Pretence of turning their Labours to greater Advantage than Persons brought up to Letters. A learned Education, passing through great Schools and Universities, is very expensive, and consumes a moderate Fortune, before it is gone through in its proper Forms. The Purchase of an handsome Commission or Employment, which would give a Man a good Figure in another Kind of Life, is to be made at a much cheaper Rate. Now, if we consider this expensive Voyage which is undertaken in the Search of Knowledge, and how few there are who take in any considerable Merchandise, how less frequent it is to be able to turn what Men have gained into Profit? How hard is it, that the very small Number who are distinguished with Abilities to know how to vend their Wares, and have the good Fortune to bring them into Port, should suffer being plunder'd by Privateers under the very Cannon that should protect them? The most eminent and useful Author of the Age we live in, after having laid out a Princely Revenue in Works of Charity and Beneficence, as became the Greatness of his Mind, and the Sanctity of his Character, would have left the Person in the World who was the dearest to him in a narrow Condition, had not the Sale of his immortal Writings brought her in a very considerable Dowry; though it was impossible for it to be equal to their Value. Every one will know, that I here mean the Works of the late Archbishop of
Canterbury,
the Copy of which was sold for a 500
l.
I do not speak with relation to any Party; but it has happened, and may often so happen, that Men of great Learning and Virtue cannot qualify themselves for being employed in Business, or receiving Preferments. In this Case, you cut them off from all Support, if you take from them the Benefit that may arise from their Writings. For my own Part, I have brought my self to consider Things in so unprejudiced a Manner, that I esteem more a Man who can live by the Products of his Understanding, than One who does it by the Favour of Great Men.
The Zeal of an Author has transported me thus far, though I think my self as much concerned in the Capacity of a Reader. If this Practice goes on, we must never expect to see again a beautiful Edition of a Book in
Great Britain.
We have already seen the Memoirs of Sir
William Temple
published in the same Character and Volume with the History of
Tom Thumb,
and the Works of our greatest Poets shrunk into Penny Books and Garlands. For my own Part, I expect to see my Lucubrations printed on Browner Paper than they are at present; and, if the Humour continues, must be forced to retrench my expensive Way of Living, and not smoke above Two Pipes a Day.
Mr.
Charles Lillie,
Perfumer at the Corner of
Beauford-Buildings,
has informed me, That I am obliged to several of my Customers for coming to his Shop upon my Recommendation; and has also given me further Assurances of his upright Dealing with all who shall be so kind as to make Use of my Name to him. I acknowledge this Favour, and have, for the Service of my Friends who frequent his Shop, used the Force of Magical Powers to add Value to his Wares. By my Knowledge in the secret Operations of Nature, I have made his
Powders, Perfumed
and Plain, have the same Effect as Love-Powder, to all who are too much enamoured to do more than dress at their Mistresses. His
Amber Orange-Flower, Musk,
and
Civet-Violet,
put only into an Handkerchief, shall have the same Effect towards an honourable Lover's Wishes, as if he had been wrapped in his Mother's Smock.
Wash-Balls Perfumed, Camphired,
and
Plain,
shall restore Complexions to that Degree, that a Country Fox-hunter who uses them, shall in a Week's Time look with a courtly and affable Paleness, without using the Bagnio or Cupping.
N. B.
Mr.
Lillie
has Snuffs,
Barcelona, Sevil, Musty, Plain,
and
Spanish, which may be taken by a young Beginner
without Danger of Sneezing.
Sheer-Lane,
Nov. 30.
Whereas several Walking dead Persons arrived within the Bills of Mortality, before and since the 15th Instant, having been informed of my Warrant given to the Company of Upholders, and being terrified thereat, (it not having been advertized that Privilege or Protection would be allow'd) have resolved forthwith to retire to their several and respective Abodes in the Country, hoping thereby to elude any Commission of Interrment that may issue out against them; and being informed of such their fallacious Designs, I do hereby give Notice, as well for the Good of the Publick as for the great Veneration I have for the before-mentioned useful Society, that a Process is gone out against them; and that, in case of Contempt, they may be found or heard of at most Coffee-houses in and about
Westminster.
I must desire my Readers to help me out from Time to Time in the Correction of these my Essays; for as a shaking Hand does not always write legibly, the Press sometimes prints one Word for another; and when my Paper is to be revised, I am perhaps so busy in observing the Spots of the Moon, that I have not Time to find out the
Errata
that are crept into my Lucubrations.
The TATLER. [No 102.
From
Thursd. Dec.
1. to
Saturd. Dec.
3. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Dec. 3.
A Continuation of the Vision.
THE Male World were dismissed by the Goddess of Justice, and disappeared, when on a sudden the whole Plain was covered with Women. So charming a Multitude filled my Heart with unspeakable Pleasure; and as the Celestial Light of the Mirror shone upon their Faces, several of them seemed rather Persons that descended in the Train of the Goddess, than such who were brought before her to their Tryal. The Clack of Tongues, and Confusion of Voices, in this new Assembly, was so very great, that the Goddess was forced to command Silence several Times, and with some Severity, before she could make them attentive to her Edicts. They were all sensible, that the most important Affair among Woman kind was then to be settled, which every one knows to be the Point of Place. This had raised innumerable Disputes among them, and put the whole Sex into a Tumult. Every one produced her Claim, and pleaded her Pretensions. Birth, Beauty, Wit, or Wealth, were Words that rung in my Ears from all Parts of the Plain. Some boasted of the Merit of their Husbands; others of their own Power in governing them. Some pleaded their unspotted Virginity; others their numerous Issue. Some valued themselves as they were the Mothers, and others, as they were the Daughters, of considerable Persons. There was not a single Accomplishment unmentioned, or unpractised. The whole Congregation was full of Singing, Dancing, Tossing, Ogling, Squeaking, Smiling, Sighing, Fanning, Frowning, and all those irresistible Arts which Women put in Practice, to captivate the Hearts of reasonable Creatures. The Goddess, to end this Dispute, caused it to be proclaimed, That every one should take Place according as she was more or less beautiful. This Declaration gave great Satisfaction to the whole Assembly, which immediately bridled up, and appeared in all its Beauties. Such as believed themselves graceful in their Motion, found an Occasion of falling back, advancing forward, or making a false Step, that they might show their Persons in the most becoming Air. Such as had fine Necks and Bosoms, were wonderfully curious to look over the Heads of the Multitude, and observe the most distant Parts of the Assembly. Several clapped their Hands on their Foreheads, as helping their Sight to look upon the Glories that surrounded the Goddess, but in Reality to show fine Hands and Arms. The Ladies were yet better pleased, when they heard, that in the Decision of this great Controversy, each of them should be her own Judge, and take her Place according to her own Opinion of her self, when she consulted her Looking-glass.
The Goddess then let down the Mirror of Truth in a Golden Chain, which appeared larger in Proportion as it descended and approached nearer to the Eyes of the Beholders. It was the particular Propriety of this Looking-glass to banish all false Appearances, and show People what they are. The whole Woman was represented, without Regard to the usual external Features, which were made entirely conformable to their real Characters. In short, the most accomplished (taking in the whole Circle of Female Perfections) were the most beautiful; an
the most defective, the most deformed. Th
Goddess so varied the Motion of the Glas
and placed it in so many different Lights, tha
each had an Opportunity of seeing her self in it.
It is impossible to describe the Rage, the Pleasure, or Astonishment, that appeared in each Face upon its Represention in the Mirror: Multitudes started at their own Form, and would have broke the Glass if they could have reached it. Many saw their Blooming Features wither as they looked upon them, and their Self Admiration turned into a Loathing and Abhorrence. The Lady who was thought so agreeable in her Anger, and was so often celebrated for a Woman of Fire and Spirit, was frighted at her own Image, and fancied she saw a Fury in the Glass. The interested Mistress beheld a Harpy, and the subtile Jilt a Sphinx. I was very much troubled in my own Heart, to see such a Destruction of fine Faces; but at the same Time had the Pleasure of seeing several improved, which I had before looked upon as the greatest Master-pieces of Nature. I observed, that some few were so humble as to be surprised at their own Charms; and that many a one, who had lived in the Retirement and Severity of a Vestal, shined forth in all the Graces and Attractions of a Syren. I was ravished at the Sight of a particular Image in the Mirror, which I think the most beautiful Object that my Eyes ever beheld. There was something more than Humane in her Countenance: Her Eyes were so full of Light, that they seemed to beautify every Thing they looked upon. Her Face was enlivened with such a florid Bloom, as did not so properly seem the Mark of Health, as of Immortality. Her Shape, he Stature, and her Mien, were such as distinguish'd her even there where the whole Fair Sex was assembled.
I was impatient to see the Lady represented by so divine an Image, whom I found to be the Person that stood at my Right Hand, and in the same Point of View with my self. This was a little old Woman, who in her Prime had been about Five Foot high, though at present shrunk to about Three Quarters of that Measure: Her natural Aspect was puckered up with Wrinkles, and her Head covered with grey Hairs. I had observed all along an innocent Chearfulness in her Face, which was now heighten'd into Rapture as she beheld her self in the Glass. It was an odd Circumstance in my Dream (but I cannot forbear relating it); I conceived so great an Inclination towards her, that I had Thoughts of discoursing her upon the Point of Marriage, when on a sudden she was carried from me; for the Word was now given, that all who were pleased with their own Images, should separate, and place themselves at the Head of their Sex.
This Detachment was afterwards divided into Three Bodies, consisting of Maids, Wives and Widows; the Wives being placed in the Middle, with the Maids on the Right, and Widows on the Left; though it was with Difficulty that these Two last Bodies were hinder'd from falling into the Centre. This Separation of those who liked their real selves, not having lessened the Number of the main Body so considerably as it might have been wished, the Goddess, after having drawn up her Mirror, thought fit to make new Distinctions among those who did not like the Figure which they saw in it. She made several wholesome Edicts, which are slipt out of my Mind; but there were Two which dwelt upon me, as being very extraordinary in their Kind, and executed with great Severity. Their Design was, to make an Example of Two Extremes in the Female World; of those who are very severe on the Conduct of others, and of those who are very regardless of their own. The first Sentence therefore the Goddess pronounced, was, That all Females addicted to Censoriousness and Detraction, should lose the Use of Speech; a Punishment which would be the most grievous to the Offender, and (what should be the End of all Punishments) effectual for rooting out the Crime. Upon this Edict, which was as soon executed as published, the Noise of the Assembly very considerably abated. It was a melancholy Spectacle, to see so many who had the Reputation of rigid Virtue struck dumb. A Lady who stood by me, and saw my Concern, told me, She wondered how I could be concerned for such a Pack of—I found, by the Shaking of her Head, she was going to give me their Characters; but by her saying no more, I perceived she had lost the Command of her Tongue. This Calamity felt very heavy upon that Part of Women who are distinguish'd by the Name of
Prudes,
a Courtly Word for Female Hypocrites, who have a shert Way to being virtuous, by showing that others are vitious. The Second Sentence was then pronounced against the loose Part of the Sex, That all should immediately be pregnant, who in any Part of their Lives had ran the Hazard of it. This produced a very goodly Appearance, and revealed so many Misconducts, that made those who were lately struck dumb, repine more than ever at their Want of Utterance; though at the same Time (as Afflictions seldom come single) many of the Mutes were also seized with this new Calamity. The Ladies were now in such a Condition, that they would have wanted Room, had not the Plain been large enough to let them divide their Ground, and extend their Lines on all Sides. It was a sensible Affliction to me, to see such a Multitude of Fair Ones either dumb or big-bellied: But I was something more at Ease, when I found that they agreed upon several Regulations to cover such Misfortunes. Among others, that it should be an established Maxim in all Nations, That a Woman's First Child might come into the World within Six Months after her Acquaintance with her Husband; and that Grief might retard the Birth of her last till Fourteen Months after his Decease.
This Vision lasted till my usual Hour of Waking, which I did with some Surprise, to find my self alone, after having been engaged almost a whole Night in so prodigious a Multitude. I could not but reflect with Wonder, at the Partiality and Extravagance of my Vision; which according to my Thoughts, has not done Justice to the Sex. If Virtue in Men is more Venerable, it is in Women more Lovely; which
Milton
has very finely expressed in his
Paradise Lost,
where
Adam,
speaking of
Eve,
after having asserted his own Pre-eminence, as being First in Creation and internal Faculties, breaks out into the following Rapture:
— Yet when I approach
Her Loveliness, so Absolute she seems,
And in her self Compleat, so well to know
Her own, that what she wills, or do, or say,
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.
All higher Knowledge in her Presence falls
Degraded. Wisdom, in Discourse with her,
Loses, discountenanced, and like Folly shows.
Authority and Reason on her wait,
As one intended first, not after made
Occasionally: And to consummate all
Greatness of Mind and Nobleness, their Seat
Build in her loveliest, and create an Awe
About her, as a Guard Angelick placed.
The TATLER. [No 103.
— Hae nugae seria ducunt
In mala, derision semel exceptumque sinistre.
Hor
From
Saturd. Dec.
3. to
Tuesd. Dec.
6. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Dec. 5.
THere is nothing gives a Man greater Satisfaction, than the Sense of having dispatched a great deal of Business, especially when it turns to the Publick Emolument. I have much Pleasure of this Kind upon my Spirits at present, occasioned by the Fatigue of Affairs which I went through last
Saturday.
It is some Time since I set apart that Day for examining the Pretensions of several who had applied to me, for Canes, Perspective-Glasses, Snuff-Boxes, Orange-Flower-Waters, and the like Ornaments of Life. In order to adjust this Matter, I had before directed
Charles Lillie
of
Beauford-Buildings
to prepare a great Bundle of Blank Licences in the following Words:
You are hereby required to permit the Bearer of this Cane to pass and repass through the Streets and Suburbs of
London,
or any Place within Ten Miles of it, without Lett or Molestation; provided that he does not walk with it under his Arm, brandish it in the Air, or hang it on a Button: In which Case it shall be forfeited; and I hereby declare it forfeited to any one who shall think it safe to take it from him.
Isaac Bickerstaff.
The same Form, differing only in the Proviso's, will serve for a Perspective, Snuff-Box, or Perfumed Handkerchief. I had placed my self in my Elbow-Chair at the upper End of my great Pa lour, having ordered
Charles Lillie
to take his Place upon a Joint-Stool with a Writing-Desk before him.
John Morphew
also took his Station at the Door; I having, for his good and faithful Services, appointed him my Chamber-Keeper upon Court-Days. He let me know, That there were a great Number attending without. Upon which, I ordered him to give Notice, That I did not intend to sit upon Snuff-Boxes that Day; but that those who appeared for Canes might enter. The first presented me with the following Petition, which I ordered Mr.
Lillie
to read.
To
Isaac Bickerstaff
Esq
Censor of
Great-Britain.
The Humble Petition of
Simon Trippit;
Sheweth,
That your Petitioner having been bred up to a Cane from his Youth, it is now become as necessary to him as any other of his Limbs.
That a great Part of his Behaviour depending upon it, he should be reduced to the utmost Necessities if he should lose the Use of it.
That the Knocking of it upon his Shoe, Leaning one Leg upon it, or Whistling with it on his Mouth, are such great Reliefs to him in Conversation, that he does not know how to be good Company without it.
That he is at present engaged in an Amour, and must despair of Success, if it be taken from him.
Your Petitioner therefore hopes, that (the Premisses tenderly considered) your Worship will not deprive him of so useful and so necessary a Support.
And your Petitioner shall ever,
&c,
Upon the hearing of his Case, I was touched with some Compassion, and the more so, when upon observing him nearer I found he was a
Prig,
I bid him produce his Cane in Court, which he had left at the Door. He did so, and I finding it to be very curiously clouded, with a transparent Amber Head, and a blue Ribbon to hang upon his Wrist, I immediately ordered my Clerk
Lillie
to lay it up, and deliver out to him a plain Joint headed with Walnut; and then, in order to wean him from it by Degrees, permitted him to wear it Three Days in the Week, and to abate proportionably till he found himself able to go alone.
The Second who appeared, came limping into the Court: And setting forth in his Petition many Pretences for the Use of a Cane, I caused them to be examined one by one; but finding him in different Stories, and confronting him with several Witnesses who had seen him walk upright, I ordered Mr.
Lillie
to take in his Cane, and rejected his Petition as frivolous.
A Third made his Entry with great Difficulty, leaning upon a slight Stick, and in Danger of falling every Step he took. I saw the Weakness of his Hams; and hearing that he had married a young Wife about a Fortnight before, I bid him leave his Cane, and gave him a new Pair of Crutches, with which he went off in great Vigour and Alacrity. This Gentleman was succeeded by another, who seemed very much pleased while his Petition was reading, in which he had represented, That he was extremely afflicted with the Gout, and set his Foot upon the Ground with the Caution and Dignity which accompany that Distemper. I suspected him for an Impostor, and having ordered him to be searched, I committed him into the Hands of Dr.
Thomas Smith
in
King-street
(my own Corn-Cutter) who attended in an outward Room, and wrought so speedy a Cure upon him, that I thought fit to send him also away without his Cane.
While I was thus dispensing Justice, I heard a Noise in my outward Room; and enquiring what was the Occasion of it, my Door-Keeper told me, that they had taken up one in the very Fact as he was passing by my Door. They immediately brought in a lively fresh-coloured young Man, who made great Resistance with Hand and Foot, but did not offer to make Use of his Cane, which hung upon his Fifth Button. Upon Examination, I found him to be an
Oxford
Scholar, who was just entered at the
Temple.
He at first disputed the Jurisdiction of the Court; but being driven out of his little Law and Logick, he told me very pertly, That he looked upon such a prependicular Creature as Man to make a very imperfect Figure without a Cane in his Hand. It is well known (says he) we ought, according to the natural Situation of our Bodies, to walk upon our Hands and Feet; and that the Wisdom of the Ancients had described Man to be an Animal of Four Legs in the Morning, Two at Noon, and Three at Night; by which they intimated, that a Cane might very properly become Part of us in some Period of Life. Upon which I asked him, Whether he wore it at his Breast to have it in Readiness when that Period should arrive? My young Lawyer immediately told me, He had a Property in it, and a Right to hang it where he pleased, and to make Use of it as he thought fit, provided that he did not break the Peace with it: And further said, That he never took it off his Button, unless it were to lift it up at a Coachman, hold it over the Head of a Drawer, point out the Circumstances of a Story, or for other Services of the like Nature, that are all within the Laws of the Land. I did not care for discouraging a young Man, who, I saw, would come to Good; and because his Heart was set upon his new Purchase, I only ordered him to wear it about his Neck, instead of hanging it upon his Button, and so dismissed him. There were several appeared in Court, whose Pretensions I found to be very good, and therefore gave them their Licences upon paying their Fees; as many others had their Licences renewed, who required more Time for Recovery of their Lameness than I had before allowed them.
Having dispatch'd this Set of my Petitioners, there came in a well-dressed Man, with a Glass-Tube in one Hand, and his Petition in the other. Upon his entring the Room, he threw back the Right Side of his Wig, put forward his Right Leg, and advancing the Glass to his Right Eye, aimed it directly at me. In the mean while, to make my Observations also, I put on my Spectacles; in which Posture we survey'd each other for some Time. Upon the Removal of our Glasses, I desired him to read his Petition, which he did very promptly and easily; though at the same Time it set forth, that he could see nothing distinctly, and was within very few Degrees of being utterly blind; concluding with a Prayer, That he might be permitted to strengthen and extend his Sight by a Glass. In Answer to this I told him, he might sometimes extend it to his own Destruction. As you are now, (said I) you are out of the Reach of Beauty; the Shafts of the finest Eyes lose their Force before they can come at you; you can't distinguish a Toast from an Orange-Wench; you can see a whole Circle of Beauty without any Interruption from an impertinent Face to discompose you. In short, what are Snares for others—My Petitioner would hear no more, but told me very seriously, Mr.
Bickerstaff,
you quite mistake your Man; it is the Joy, the Pleasure, the Employment of my Life, to frequent publick Assemblies, and gaze upon the Fair. In a Word, I found his Use of a Glass was occasion'd by no other Infirmity but his Vanity, and was not so much design'd to make him see, as to make him be seen and distinguish'd by others. I therefore refused him a Licence for a Perspective, but allow'd him a Pair of Spectacles, with full Permission to use them in any publick Assembly as he should think fit. He was followed by so very few of this Order of Men, that I have Reason to hope this Sort of Cheats are almost at an End.
The Orange-Flower Men appeared next with Petitions, perfumed so strongly with Musk, that I was almost overcome with the Scent; and for my own Sake, was obliged forthwith to license their Handkerchiefs, especially when I found they had sweetened them at
Charles Lillie
's, and that some of their Persons would not be altogether inoffensive without them.
John Morphew,
whom I have made the General of my Dead Men, acquainted me, That the Petitioners were all of that Order, and could produce Certificates to prove it, if I requir'd it. I was so well pleased with this Way of their Embalming themselves, that I commanded the abovesaid
Morphew
to give it in Orders to his whole Army, That every one who did not surrender himself up to be disposed of by the Upholders, should use the same Method to keep himself sweet during his present State of Putrefaction.
I finished my Session with great Content of Mind, reflecting upon the Good I had done; for however slightly Men may regard these Particularities and little Follies in Dress and Behaviour, they lead to greater Evils. The bearing to be laughed at for such Singularities, teach us insensibly an impertinent Fortitude, and enable us to bear publick Censure for Things which more substantially deserve it. By this Means they open a Gate to Folly, and oftentimes render a Man so ridiculous, as discredit his Virtues and Capacities, and unqualify them from doing any Good in the World. Besides, the giving into uncommon Habits of this Nature, is a Want of that humble Deference which is due to Mankind and (what is worst of all) the certain Indication of some secret Flaw in the Mind of the Person that commits them. When I was a young Man, I remember a Gentleman of great Integrity and Worth was very remarkable for wearing a broad Belt, and an Hanger instead of a fashionable Sword, though in all other Points a very well bred Man. I suspected him at first Sight to have something wrong in him, but was not able for a long while to discover any collateral Proofs of it. I watched him narrowly for Six and thirty Years, when at last, to the Surprize of every Body but my self, who had long expected to see the Folly break out, he married his own Cook-Maid.
The TATLER. [No 104.
— Garrit aniles
Ex re Fabellas —
Hor.
From
Tuesd. Dec.
6. to
Thursd. Dec.
8. 1709.
From my own Apartment,
Dec. 7.
MY Brother
Tranquillus
being gone out of Town for some Days, my Sister
Jenny
sent me Word she would come and dine with me, and therefore desired me to have no other Company. I took Care accordingly, and was not a little pleased to see her enter the Room with a Decent and Matron-like Behaviour, which I thought very much became her. I saw she had a great deal to say to me, and easily discovered in her Eyes, and the Air of her Countenance, that she had abundance of Satisfaction in her Heart, which she longed to communicate. However, I was resolved to let her break into her Discourse her own Way, and reduced her to a Thousand little Devices and Intimations to bring me to the Mention of her Husband. But finding I was resolved not to name him, she began of her own Accord; My Husband (said she) gives his humble Service to you: To which I only answered, I hope he is well; and without waiting for a Reply, fell into other Subjects. She at last was out of all Patience, and said, (with a Smile and Manner that I thought had more Beauty and Spirit than I had ever observed before in her) I did not think, Brother, you had been so ill-natured. You have seen, ever since I came in, that I had a Mind to talk of my Husband, and you won't be so kind as to give me an Occasion. I did not know (said I) but it might be a disagreeable Subject to you. You do not take me for so old-fashioned a Fellow as to think of entertaining a young Lady with the Discourse of her Husband. I know, nothing is more acceptable than to speak of one who is to be so; but to speak of one who is so! Indeed,
Jenny,
I am a better bred Man than you think me. She showed a little Dislike at my Raillery; and by her bridling up, I perceived she expected to be treated hereafter not as
Jenny Distaff,
but Mrs.
Tranquillus.
I was very well pleased with this Change in her Humour; and upon talking with her on several Subjects, I could not but fancy, that I saw a great deal of her Husband's Way and Manner, in her Remarks, her Phrases, the Tone of her Voice, and the very Air of her Countenance. This gave me an unspeakable Satisfaction, not only because I had found her an Husband, from whom she could learn many Things that were laudable, but also because I looked upon her Imitation of him as an infallible Sign that she intirely loved him. This is an Observation that I never knew fail, though I do not remember that any other has made it. The natural Shyness of her Sex hindered her from telling me the Greatness of her own Passion; but I easily collected it, from the Representation she gave me of his. I have every Thing, says she, in
Tranquillus
that I can wish for; and enjoy in him (what indeed you have told me were to be met with in a good Husband) the Fondness of a Lover, the Tenderness of a Parent, and the Intimacy of a Friend. It transported me to see her Eyes swimming in Tears of Affection when she spoke: And is there not, Dear Sister, said I, more Pleasure in the Possession of such a Man, than in all the little Impertinencies of Balls, Assemblies, and Equipage, which it cost me so much Pains to make you contemn? She answer'd, smiling,
Tranquillus
has made me a sincere Convert in a few Weeks, though I am afraid you could not have done it in your whole Life. To tell you truly, I have only one Fear hanging upon me, which is apt to give me Trouble in the Midst of all my Satisfactions: I am afraid, you must know, that I shall not always make the same amiable Appearance in his Eye that I do at present. You know, Brother
Bickerstaff,
that you have the Reputation of a Conjurer; and if you have any one Secret in your Art to make your Sister always beautiful, I should be happier than if I were Mistress of all the Worlds you have shown me in a Starry Night—
Jenny,
(said I) without having Recourse to Magick, I shall give you one plain Rule, that will not fail of making you always amiable to a Man who has so great a Passion for you, and is of so equal and reasonable a Temper as
Tranquillus.
Endeavour to please, and you must please; be always in the same Disposition as you are when you ask for this Secret, and, you may take my Word, you will never want it. An inviolable Fidelity, good Humour, and Complacency of Temper out-live all the Charms of a fine Face, and make the Decays of it invisible.
We discoursed very long upon this Head, which was equally agreeable to us both; for I must confess, (as I tenderly love her) I take as much Pleasure in giving her Instructions for her Welfare as she her self does in receiving them. I proceeded therefore to inculcate these Sentiments, by relating a very particular Passage that happened within my own Knowledge.
There were several of us making merry at a Friend's House in a Country Village, when the Sexton of the Parish-Church entered the Room in a Sort of Surprize, and told us, That as he was digging a Grave in the Chancel, a little Blow of his Pickax open'd a decayed Coffin, in which there were several written Papers. Our Curiosity was immediately raised, so that we went to the Place where the Sexton had been at work, and found a great Concourse of People about the Grave. Among the rest, there was an old Woman, who told us, the Person buried there was a Lady, whose Name I do not think fit to mention, though there is nothing in the Story but what tends very much to her Honour. This Lady lived several Years an Exemplary Pattern of Conjugal Love, and dying soon after her Husband, who every Way answer'd her Character in Virtue and Affection, made it her Death-Bed Request, That all the Letters which she had received from him, both before and after her Marriage, should be buried in the Coffin with her. These I found upon Examination were the Papers before us. Several of them had suffered so much by Time, that I could only pick out a few Words; as, My Soul! Lillies! Roses! Dearest Angel! and the like. One of them (which was legible throughout) ran thus:
MADAM,
IF you would know the Greatness of my Love, consider that of your own Beauty. That Blooming Countenance, that Snowy Bosom, that Graceful Person, return every Moment to my Imagination: The Brightness of your Eyes hath hindered me from closing mine since I last saw you. You may still add to your Beauties by a Smile. A Frown will make me the most wretched of Men, as I am the most passionate of Lovers.
It filled the whole Company with a deep Melancholy, to compare the Description of the Letter with the Person that occasioned it, who was now reduced to a few crumbling Bones, and a little mouldring Heap of Earth. With much ado I deciphered another Letter, which begun with,
My dear, dear Wife.
This gave me a Curiosity to see how the Style of one written in Marriage differed from one written in Courtship. To my Surprize, I found the Fondness rather augmented than lessened, though the Panegyrick turned upon a different Accomplishment. The Words were as follow:
BEfore this short Absence from you, I did not know that I loved you so much as I really do; though at the same Time, I thought I loved you as much as possible. I am under great Apprehensions, left you should have any Uneasiness whilst I am defrauded of my Share in it, and can't think of tasting any Pleasures that you don't partake with me. Pray, my Dear, be careful of your Health, if for no other Reason, because you know I could not cutlive you. It is natural in Absence to make Professions of an inviolable Constancy; but towards so much Merit, it is scarce a Virtue, especially when it is but a bare Return to that of which you have given me such continued Proofs ever since our first Acquaintance.
I am,
&c.
It happened that the Daughter of these Two excellent Persons was by when I was reading this Letter. At the Sight of the Coffin, in which was the Body of her Mother, near that of her Father, she melted into a Flood of Tears. As I had heard a great Character of her Virtue, and observed in her this Instance of Filial Piety, I could not resist my natural Inclination of giving Advice to young People, and therefore addressed my self to her: Young Lady (said I), you see how short is the Possession of that Beauty in which Nature has been so liberal to you. You find, the melancholy Sight before you is a Contradiction to the First Letter that you heard on that Subject; whereas you may observe, the Second Letter, which celebrates your Mother's Constancy, is it self, being found in this Place, an Argument of it. But, Madam, I ought to caution you, not to think the Bodies that lie before you, your Father and your Mother. Know their Constancy is rewarded by a nobler Union than by this mingling of their Ashes, in a State where there is no Danger or Possibility of a Second Separation.
The TATLER. [No 105.
From
Thursd. Dec.
8. to
Saturd. Dec.
10. 1709.
Sheer-Lane,
December 9.
AS soon as my Midnight Studies are finished, I take but a very short Repose, and am again up at an Exercise of another Kind; that is to say, my Fencing. Thus my Life passes away in a restless Pursuit of Fame, and a Preparation to defend my self against such as attack it. This Anxiety in the Point of Reputation is the peculiar Distress of fine Spirits, and makes them liable to a Thousand Inquietudes, from which Men of grosser Understandings are exempt; so that Nothing is more common, than to see one Part of Mankind live at perfect Ease under such Circumstances as would make another Part of them entirely miserable.
This may serve for a Preface to the History of poor
Will. Rosin,
the Fidler of
Wapping,
who is a Man as much made for Happiness, and a quiet Life, as any one breathing; but has been lately intangled in so many intricate and unreasonable Distresses, as would have made him (had he been a Man of too nice Honour) the most wretched of all Mortals. I came to the Knowledge of his Affairs by meer Accident. Several of the narrow End of our Lane having made an Appointment to visit some Friends beyond St.
Katherine
's, where there was to be a merry Meeting, they would needs take with them the Old Gentleman, as they are pleased to call me. I who value my Company by their good Will, which naturally has the same Effect as good Breeding, was not too stately, or too wise, to accept of the Invitation. Our Design was to be Spectators of a Sea Ball; to which I readily consented, provided I might be
incognito,
being naturally pleased with the Survey of humane Life in all its Degrees and Circumstances. In order to this Merriment,
Will. Rosin
(who is the
Corelli
of the
Wapping
-Side, as
Tom Scrape
is the
Bononcini
of
Redriffe
) was immediately sent for; but to our utter Disappointment, poor
Will.
was under an Arrest, and desired the Assistance of all his kind Masters and Mistresses, or he must go to Gaol. The whole Company received his Message with great Humanity, and very generously threw in their Half-pence apiece in a great Dish, which purchased his Redemption out of the Hands of the Bailiffs. During the Negotiation for his Enlargement, I had an Opportunity of acquainting my self with his History.
Mr.
William Rosin,
of the Parish of St.
Katherine,
is somewhat stricken in Years, and married to a young Woman, who has very much the Ascendant over him: This degenerate Age being so perverted in all Things, that even in the State of Matrimony, the Young pretend to govern their Elders. The Musician is extremely fond of her; but is often obliged to lay by his Fiddle to hear louder Notes of hers, when she is pleased to be angry with him: For you are to know,
Will.
is not of Consequence enough to enjoy her Conversation but when she chides him, or makes use of him to carry on her Amours. For she is a Woman of Stratagem; and even in that Part of the World where one would expect but very little Gallantry, by the Force of natural Genius, she can be sullen, sick, out of Humour, Splenatick, want new Clothes, and more Money, as well as if she had been bred in
Cheapside
or
Cornhill.
She was lately under a secret Discontent upon Account of a Lover she was like to lose by his Marriage: For her Gallant, Mr.
Ezekiel Boniface,
had been twice asked in Church, in order to be joined in Matrimony with Mrs.
Winifred Dimple,
Spinster, of the same Parish. Hereupon Mrs.
Rosin
was far gone in that Distemper which well-governed Husbands know by the Description of,
I am I know not how;
and
Will.
soon understood, that it was his Part to enquire into the Occasion of her Melancholy, or suffer as the Cause of it himself. After much Importunity, all he could get out of her, was, That she was the most unhappy and the most wicked of all Women, and had no Friend in the World to tell her Grief to. Upon this,
Will.
doubled his Importunities; but she said. That she should break her poor Heart, if he did not take a solemn Oath upon a Book, that he would not be angry; and that he would expose the Person who had wronged her to all the World, for the Ease of her Mind, which was no way else to be quieted. The Fidler was so melted, that he immediately kissed her, and afterwards the Book. When his Oath was taken, she began to lament her self, and revealed to him, that (miserable Woman as she was) she had been false to his Bed.
Will.
was glad to hear it was no worse; but before he could reply, Nay (said she) I will make you all the Atonement I can, and take Shame upon me by proclaiming it to all the World, which is the only Thing that can remove my present Terrors of Mind. This was indeed too true; for her Design was to prevent Mr.
Boniface
's Marriage, which was all she apprehended.
Will.
was throughly angry, and began to curse and swear, the ordinary Expressions of Passion in Persons of his Condition. Upon which his Wife—Ah
William!
How well you mind the Oath you have taken, and the Distress of your poor Wife, who can keep nothing from you; I hope you won't be such a perjur'd Wretch as to forswear your self. The Fiddler answer'd, That his Oath obliged him only not to be angry at what was passed; but I find you intend to make me laughed at all over
Wapping.
No, no, (replied Mrs.
Rosin
) I see well enough what you would be at, you poor-spirited Cuckold—You are afraid to expose
Boniface,
who has abused your poor Wife, and would fain perswade me still to suffer the Stings of Conscience; but I assure you Sirrah, I won't go to the Devil for you. Poor
Will.
was not made for Contention, and beseeching her to be pacified, desired she would consult the Good of her Soul her own Way, for he would not say her nay in any Thing.
Mrs.
Rosin
was so very loud and publick in her Invectives against
Boniface,
that the Parents of his Mistress forbad the Banes, and his Match was prevented, which was the whole Design of this deep
atagem. The Father of
Boniface
brought his Action of Defamation, arrested the Fiddler, and recovered Dammages. This was the Distress from which he was relieved by the Company; and the good Husband's Air, History, and Jollity, upon his Enlargement, gave Occasion to very much Mirth; especially when
Will.
finding he had Friends to stand by him, proclaimed himself a Cuckold by Way of Insult over the Family of the
Bonifaces.
Here is a Man of Tranquility without reading
Seneca!
What Work had such an Incident made among Persons of Distinction? The Brothers and Kindred of each Side must have been drawn out, and Hereditary Hatred entailed on the Families as long as their very Names remained in the World. Who would believe that
Herod, Othello,
and
Will. Rosin,
were of the same Species?
There are quite different Sentiments which reign in the Parlour and the Kitchin; and it is by the Point of Honour, when justly regulated, and inviolably observed, that some Men are superior to others, as much as Mankind in general are to Brutes. This puts me in Mind of a Passage in the admirable Poem called the
Dispensary,
where the Nature of true Honour is artfully described in an Ironical Dispraise of it.
But e're we once engage in Honour's Cause,
First know what Honour is, and whence it was.
Scorn'd by the Base, 'tis courted by the Brave,
The Hero's Tyrant, and the Coward's Slave.
Born in the noisy Camp, it lives on Air;
And both exists by Hope, and by Despair.
Angry when e're a Moment's Ease we gain,
And reconcil'd at our Returns of Pain.
It lives, when in Death's Arms the Here lies,
But when his Safety he consults, it dies.
Bigotted to this Idel, we disclaim,
Rest, Health, and Ease, for nothing but a Name.
A very odd Fellow visited me to Day at my Lodgings, and desired Encouragement and Recommendation from me for a new Invention of Knockers to Doors, which he told me he had made, and professed to teach Rustick Servants the Use of them. I desired him to show me an Experiment of this Invention; upon which he fined one of his Knockers to my Parlour Door. He then gave me a compleat Set of Knocks, from the solitary Rap of the Dun and Beggar, to the Thunderings of the sawcy Footman of Quality, with several Flourishes and Ratlings never yet performed. He likewise played over some private Notes, distinguishing the familiar Friend or Relation from the most modish Visitor; and directing when the Reserve Candles are to be lighted. He has several other Curiosities in this Art. He waits only to receive my Approbation of the main Design. He is now ready to practise to such as shall apply themselves to him; but I have put off his publick Licence till next Court-Day.
N. B.
He teaches under Ground.
The TATLER. [No 106.
— Invenies dissecti Membra Poeta.
Hor.
From
Saturd. Dec.
10. to
Tuesday Dec.
13. 1709.
Will's Coffee-house,
December 12.
I Was this Evening sitting at the Side-Table, and reading one of my own Papers with great Satisfaction, not knowing that I was observed by any in the Room. I had not long enjoyed this secret Pleasure of an Author, when a Gentleman, some of whose Works I have been highly entertained with, accosted me after the following Manner: Mr.
Bickerstaff,
you know I have for some Years devoted my self wholly to the Muses, and perhaps you will be surprized when I tell you I am resolved to take up and apply my self to Business: I shall therefore beg you will stand my Friend, and recommend a Customer to me for several Goods that I have now upon my Hands, I desir'd him to let me have a Particular, and I would do my utmost to serve him. I have first of all (says he) the Progress of an Amour digested into Sonnets, beginning with a Poem to the unknown Fair, and ending with an Epithalamium. I have celebrated in it, her Cruelty, her Pity, her Face, her Shape, her Wit, her good Humour, her Dancing, her Singing—
I could not forbear interrupting him; This is a most accomplished Lady, said I; but has she really, with all these Perfections, a fine Voice?
Pugh, says he, you do not believe there is such a Person in Nature. This was only my Employment in Solitude last Summer, when I had neither Friends or Books to divert me. I was going, says I, to ask her Name, but I find it is only an imaginary Mistress. That's true, replied my Friend, but her Name is
Flavia.
I have, continued he, in the Second Place, a Collection of Lampoons, calculated either for the
Bath, Tunbridge,
or any Place where they drink Waters, with blank Spaces for the Names of such Person or Persons as may be inserted in them on Occasion. Thus much I have told only of what I have by me proceeding from Love and Malice. I have also at this Time the Sketch of an Heroick Poem upon the next Peace: Several indeed of the Verses are either too long or too short, it being a rough Draught of my Thoughts upon that Subject. I thereupon told him, That as it was, it might probably pass for a very good Pindarick, and I believed I knew one who would be willing to deal with him for it upon that Foot. I must tell you also, I have made a Dedication to it, which is about four Sides close written, that may serve any one that is tall, and understands
Latin.
I have further, about Fifty Similies, that were never yet applied, besides Three and twenty Descriptions of the Sun-rising, that might be of great Use to an Epick Poet. These are my more bulky Commodities: Besides which, I have several small Wares that I would part with at easy Rates; as, Observations upon Life, and Moral Sentences, reduced into several Couplets, very proper to close up Acts of Plays, and may be easily introduced by two or three Lines of Prose, either in Tragedy or Comedy. If I could find a Purchaser curious in
Latin
Poetry, I could accommodate him with Two Dozen of Epigrams, which, by Reason of a few false Quantities, should come for little or nothing.
I heard the Gentleman with much Attention, and asked him, Whether he would break Bulk, and sell his Goods by Retail, or designed they should all go in a Lump? He told me, That he should be very loth to part them, unless it was to oblige a Man of Quality, or any Person for whom I had a particular Friendship. My Reason for asking (said I) is, only because I know a young Gentleman who intends to appear next Spring in a new gingling Chariot, with the Figures of the Nine Muses on each Side of it; and I believe, would be glad to come into the World in Verse. We could not go on in our Treaty, by reason of Two or Three Criticks that joined us. They had been talking, it seems, of the Two Letters which were found in the Coffin, and mentioned in one of my late Lucubrations, and came with a Request to me, that I would communicate any others of them that were legible. One of the Gentlemen was pleased to say, That it was a very proper Instance of a Widow's Constancy; and said, he wished I had subjoined, as a Foil to it, the following Passage in
Hamlet.
The young Prince was not yet acquainted with all the Guilt of his Mother, but turns his Thoughts on her sudden Forgetfulness of his Father, and the Indecency of her hasty Marriage.
— That it should come to this!
But Two Months dead! Nay, not so much, not Two!
So excellent a King! That was to this
Hyperion
to a Satyr! So loving to my Mother!
That he permitted not the Winds of Heav'n
To visit her Face too roughly! Heav'n and Earth!
Must I remember? Why she would hang on him!
As if Increase of Appetite had grown
By what it fedon? And yet, within a Month!
Let me not think on't—Frailty, thy Name is Woman!
A little Month! Or e'er those Shoes were old,
With which she follow'd my poor Father's Body,
Like
Niobe
all Tears; Why she! even she!
Oh Heav'n! a Brute, that wants Discourse of Reason,
Would have mourn'd longer!—Married with mine Uncle!
My Father's Brother! But no more like my Father,
Than I to Hercules! Within a Month!
E'er yet the Salt of most unrighteous Tears,
Had left the Flushing of her gauled Eyes,
She marry'd—O most wicked Speed! To post
With such Dexterity to incestuous Sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to Good!
But break my Heart; for I must hold my Tongue!
The several Emotions of Mind and Breaks of Passion, in this Speech, are admirable. He has touched every Circumstance that aggravated the Fact, and seemed capable of hurrying the Thoughts of a Son into Diftraction. His Father's Tenderness for his Mother, expressed in so delicate a Particular; his Mother's Fondness for his Father no less exquisitely described; the great and amiable Figure of his dead Parent drawn by a true Filial Piety; his Disdain of so unworthy a Successor to his Bed: But above all, the Shortness of the Time between his Father's Death and his Mother's Second Marriage, brought together with so much Disorder, make up as noble a Part as any in that celebrated Tragedy. The Circumstances of Time I never could enough admire. The Widowhood had lasted Two Months. This is his First Reflection: But as his Indignation rises, he sinks to scarce Two Months: Afterwards into a Month; and at last, into a Little Month: But all this so naturally, that the Reader accompanies him in the Violence of his Passion, and finds the Time lessen insensibly, according to the different Workings of his Disdain. I have not mentioned the Incest of her Marriage, which is so obvious a Provocation; but can't forbear taking Notice, that when his Fury is at its Height, he cries,
Frailty, thy Name is Woman!
As railing at the Sex in general, rather than giving himself Leave to think his Mother worse than others.—
Desiderantur multa.
Whereas Mr.
Jeffery Groggram
has surrendred himself by his Lettersbearing Date
December
7. and has sent an Acknowledgment that he is Dead, praying an Order to the Company of Upholder; for Interrment at such a reasonable Rate as may not impoverish his Heirs: The said
Groggram
having been dead ever since he was born, and added nothing to his small Patrimony. Mr.
Bickerstaff
has taken the Premisses into Consideration; and being sensible of the ingenuous and singular Behaviour of this Petitioner, pronounces the said
Jeffery Groggram
a live Man, and will not suffer that he should bury himself out of Modesty; but requires him to remain among the Living, as an Example to those obstinate dead Men, who will neither labour for Life, nor go to their Grave.
N. B.
Mr.
Groggram
is the First Person that has come in upon Mr.
Bickerstaff
's D
ad Warrant.
Florinda
demands by her Letter of this Day to be allowed to pass for a living Woman, having danced the
Derbyshire Hornpipe
in the Presence
f several Friends on
Saturday
last.
Granted;
Provided she can bring Proof, that she can make a Pudding on the 24th Instant.
The TATLER. [No 107.
— Ah Miser!
Quanta laboras in Charybdi
Digne Puer meliore Flammâ?
Hor.
From
Tuesday Dec.
13. to
Thursd. Dec.
15. 1709.
Sheer-Lane,
December 14.
ABout Four this Afternoon, which is the Hour I usually put my self in a Readiness to receive Company, there enter'd a Gentleman who I believed at first came upon some ordinary Question; but as he approached nearer to me, I saw in his Countenance a deep Sorrow, mixed with a certain ingenuous Complacency that gave me a sudden Good-will towards him. He star'd, and betrayed an Absence of Thought as he was going to communicate his Business to me. But at last, recovering himself, he said, with an Air of great Respect, Sir, It would be an Injury to your Knowledge in the Occult Sciences, to tell you what is my Distress; I dare say, you read it in my Countenance: I therefore beg your Advice to the most unhappy of all Men. Much Experience has made me particularly sagacious in the Discovery of Distempers, and I soon saw that his was Love. I then turned to my Common-place Book, and found his Case under the Word
Coquette;
and reading over the Catalogue which I have collected out of this great City of all under that Character, I saw at the Name of
Cynthia
his fit came upon him. I repeated the Name thrice after a musing Manner, and immediately perceived his Pulse quicken two Thirds; when his Eyes, instead of the Wildness with which they appeared at his Entrance, looked with all the Gentleness imaginable upon me, not without Tears. Oh, Sir! (said he) you know not the unworthy Usage I have met with from the Woman my Soul doats on. I could gaze at her to the End of my Being; yet when I have done so, for some Time past I have found her Eyes fix'd on another. She is now Two and twenty in the full Tyranny of her Charms, which she once acknowledg'd she rejoiced in, only as they made her Choice of me, out of a Crowd of Admirers, the more obliging. But in the Midst of this Happiness, so it is Mr.
Bickerstaff,
that young
Quicksett,
who is just come to Town, without any other Recommendation than that of being tolerably handsome, and excessively rich, has won her Heart in so shameless a Manner, that she dies for him. In a Word, I would consult you, how to cure my self of this Passion for an ungrateful Woman, who triumphs in her Falshood, and can make no Man happy, because her own Satisfaction consists chiefly in being capable of giving Distress. I know
Quicksett
is at present considerable with her for no other Reason but that he can be without her, and feel no Pain in the Loss. Let me therefore desire you, Sir, to fortify my Reason against the Levity of an Inconstant, who ought only to be treated with Neglect.
All this Time I was looking over my Receipts, and asked him, if he had any good W
ter Boots—Boots, Sir! said my Patient—I
on; You may easily reach
Harwich
in a Day, so as to be there when the Packet goes off. Sir, (said the Lover) I find you design me for Travelling; but alas! I have no Language, it will be the same Thing to me as Solitude, to be in a strange Country. I have (continued he, sighing) been many Years in Love with this Creature, and have almost lost even my
English,
at least to speak such as any Body else does. I asked a Tenant of ours, who came up to Town the other Day with Rent, Whether the Flowry Meads near my Father's House in the Country had any Shepherd in it? I have called a Cave a Grotto these Three Years, and must keep ordinary Company, and frequent busie People for some Time, before I can recover my common Words. I smiled at his Raillery upon himself, though I well saw it came from an heavy Heart. You are (said I) acquainted to be sure with some of the General Officers; Suppose you made a Campaign? If I did, (said he) I should venture more than any M
n there, for I should be in Danger of starving; my Father is such an untoward old Gentleman, that he would tell me he sound it hard enough to pay his Taxes towards the War, without making it more expensive by an Allowance to me. With all this, he is as fond as he is ragged, and I am his only Son.
I looked upon the young Gentleman with much Tenderness, and not like a Physician, but a Friend; for I talked to him so largely, that if I had parcelled my Discourse into distinct Prescriptions, I am confident I give him Two Hundred Pounds worth of Advice. He heard me with great Attention, bowing, smilling, and showing all other Instances of that natural good Breeding which ingenuous Tempers pay to those who are elder and wiser than themselves. I entertained him to the following Purpose. I am sorry, Sir, that your Passion is of so long a Date, for Evils are much more curable in their Beginnings; but at the same Time must allow, that you are not to be blamed, since your Youth and Merit has been abused by one of the most charming, but the most unworthy Sort of Women, the Coquets. A Coquet is a chast Jilt, and differs only from a Common One, as a Soldier, who is perfect in Exercise, does from one that is actually in Service. This Grief, like all other, is to be cured only by Time; and although you are convinced this Moment, as much as you will be Ten Years hence, that she ought to be scorned and neglected, you see you must not expect your Remedy from the Force of Reason. The Cure then is only in Time, and the hastening of the Cure only in the Manner of employing that Time. You have answered me as to Travel and a Campaign, so that we have only
Great Britain
to avoid her in. Be then your self, and listen to the following Rules, which only can be of Use to you in this unaccountable Distemper, wherein the Patient is often averse even to his Recovery. It has been of Benefit to some to apply themselves to Business; but as that may not lie in your Way, go down to your Estate, mind your Fox hounds, and venture the Life you are weary of over every Hedge and Ditch in the Country. These are wholesome Remedies; but if you can have Resolution enough, rather stay in Town, and recover your self even in the Town where she inhabits. Take particular Care to avoid all Places where you may possibly meet her, and shun the Sight of every Thing which may bring her to your Remembrance; there is an Infection in all that relates to her: You'll find, her House, her Chariot, her Domesticks, and her very Lap-Dog, are so many Instruments of Torment. Tell me seriously, Do you think you could bear the Sight of her Fan? He shook his Head at the Question, and said, Ah! Mr.
Bickerstaff,
you must have been a Patient, or you could not have been so good a Physician. To tell you truly, said I, about the Thirtieth Year of my Age, I received a Wound that has still left a Scar in my Mind, never to be quite worn out by Time or Philosophy.
The Means which I found the most effectual for my Cure, were Reflections upon the ill Usage I had received from the Woman I loved, and the Pleasure I saw her take in my Sufferings.
I considered the Distress she brought upon me, the greatest that could befal an humane Creature, at the same Time that she did not inflict this upon one who was her Enemy, one that had done her an Injury, one that had wished her ill; but on the Man who loved her more than any else loved her, and more than it was possible for him to love any other Person.
In the next Place, I took Pains to consider her in all her Imperfections; and that I might be sure to hear of them constantly, kept Company with those her Female Friends who were her dearest and most intimate Acquaintance.
Among her highest Imperfections, I still dwelt upon her Baseness of Mind and Ingratitude, that made her triumph in the Pain and Anguish of the Man who loved her, and of one who in those Days (without Vanity be it spoken) was thought to deserve her Love.
To shorten my Story, she was married to another, which would have distracted me had he proved a good Husband; but to my great Pleasure, he used her at first with Coldness, and afterwards with Contempt. I hear he still treats her very ill; and am informed, that she often says to her Woman, This is a just Revenge for my Falshood to my First Love: What a Wretch am I, that might have been married to the famous Mr.
Bickerstaff.
My Patient looked upon me with a kind of melancholy Pleasure, and told me, He did not think it was possible for a Man to live to the Age I now am of, who in his Thirtieth Year had been tortured with that Passion in its Violence: For my Part, (said he) I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep in it; nor keep Company with any Body, but Two or Three Friends who are in the same Condition.
There (answer'd I) you are to blame; for as you ought to avoid nothing more than keeping Company with your self, so you ought to be particularly cautious of keeping Company with Men like your self. As long as you do this, you do but indulge your Distemper.
I must not dismiss you without further Instructions. If possible, transfer your Passion from the Woman you are now in Love with, to another; or if you cannot do that, change the Passion it self into some other Passion; that is, to speak more plainly, find out some other agreeable Woman: Or if you can't do this, grow covetous, ambitious, litigious; turn your Love of Woman into that of Profit, Preferment, Reputation; and for a Time, give up your self intirely to the Pursuit.
This is a Method we sometimes take in Physick, when we turn a desperate Disease into one we can more easily cure.
He made little Answer to all this, but crying out, Ah, Sir! For his Passion reduced his Discourse to Interjections.
There is one Thing added, which is present Death to a Man in your Condition, and therefore to be avoided with the greatest Care and Caution: That is, in a Word; to think of your Mistress and Rival together, whether walking, discoursing, dallying—The Devil! He cried out, Who can bear it? To compose him, for I pitied him very much, the Time will come, said I, when you shall not only bear it, but laugh at it. As a Preparation to it, ride every Morning an Hour at least with the Wind full in your Face. Upon your Return, recollect the several Precepts which I have now given you, and drink upon them a Bottle of
Spaw-Water.
Repeat this every Day for a Month successively, and let me see you at the End of it. He was taking his Leave, with many Thanks, and some Appearance of Consolation in his Countenance, when I called him back to acquaint him, That I had private Information of a Design of the Coquets to buy up all the true
Spaw-Water
in Town: Upon which he took his Leave in haste, with a Resolution to get all Things ready for entring upon his Regimen the next Morning.
The TATLER [No 108.
Prona
que
cum spectant Animalia caetera Terram,
Os Homini sublime dedit, Coelum
que
tueri
Jussit. —
Ovid. Met.
From
Thursd. Dec.
15. to
Saturd. Dec.
17. 1709.
Sheer-Lane,
December 16.
IT is not to be imagined, how great an Effect well disposed Lights, with proper Forms and Orders in Assemblies, have upon some Tempers. I am sure I feel it in so extraordinary a Manner, that I cannot in a Day or Two get out of my Imagination any very beautiful or disagreeable Impression which I receive on such Occasions. For this Reason I frequently look in at the Playhouse, in order to enlarge my Thoughts, and warm my Mind with some new Idea's, that may be serviceable to me in my Lucubrations. In this Disposition I entered the Theatre the other Day, and placed my self in a Corner of it, very convenient for seeing, without being my self observed. I found the Audience hushed in a very deep Attention, and did not question but some noble Tragedy was just then in its Crisis, or that an Incident was to be unravelled which would determine the Fate of an Hero. While I was in this Suspence, expecting every Moment to see my old Friend Mr.
Betterton
appear in all the Majesty of Distress, to my unspeakable Amazement, there came up a Monster with a Face between his Feet; and as I was looking on, he raised himself on one Leg in such a perpendicular Posture, that the other grew in a Direct Line above his Head. It afterwards twisted it self into the Motions and Wreathings of several different Animals, and after great Variety of Shapes and Transformations, went off the Stage in the Figure of an humane Creature. The Admiration, the Applause, the Satisfaction, of the Audience, during this strange Entertainment, is not to be expressed. I was very much out of Countenance for my dear Countrymen, and looked about with some Apprehension for Fear any Foreigner should be present. Is it possible (thought I) that humane Nature can rejoice in its Disgrace, and take Pleasure in seeing its own Figure turned to Ridicule, and distorted into Forms that raise Horror and Aversion? There is something disingenuous and immoral in the being able to bear such a Sight. Men of elegant and noble Minds, are shocked at seeing the Characters of Persons who deserve Esteem for their Virtue, Knowledge, or Services to their Country, placed in wrong Lights, and by Misrepresentation made the Subject of Buffoonry. Such a nice Abhorrence is not indeed to be found among the Vulgar; but methinks it is wonderful, that these who have nothing but the outward Figure to distinguish them as Men, should delight in seeing it abused, vilified, and disgraced.
I must confess, there is nothing that more pleases me, in all that I read in Books, or see among Mankind, than such Passages as represent humane Nature in its proper Dignity. As Man is a Creature made up of different Extremes, he has something in him very great and very mean: A skilful Artist may draw an excellent Picture of him in either of these Views. The finest Authors of Antiquity have taken him on the more advantagious Side. They cultivate the natural Grandeur of the Soul, raise in her a generous Ambition, feed her with Hopes of Immortality and Perfection, and do all they can to widen the Partition between the Virtuous and the Vicious, by making the Difference betwixt them as great as between Gods and Brutes. In short, it is impossible to read a Page in
Plato, Tully,
and a Thousand other ancient Moralists, without being a greater and a better Man for it. On the contrary, I could never read any of our modish
French
Authors, or those of our own Country who are the Imitators and Admirers of that trifling Nation, without being for some Time out of Humour with my self, and at every Thing about me. Their Business is, to depreciate humane Nature, and consider it under its worst Appearances. They give mean Interpretations and base Motives to the worthiest Actions: They resolve Virtue and Vice into Constitution. In short, they endeavour to make no Distinction between Man and Man, or between the Species of Men and that of Brutes. As an Instance of this kind of Authors, among many others, let any one examine the celebrated
Rochefaucault,
who is the great Philosopher for administring of Consolation to the Idle, the Envious, and worthless Part of Mankind.
I remember a young Gentleman of moderate Understanding, but great Vivacity, who by dipping into many Authors of this Nature, had got a little Smattering of Knowledge, just enough to make an Atheist or a Free-thinker, but not a Philosopher or a Man of Sense. With these Accomplishments, he went to visit his Father in the Country, who was a plain rough, honest Man, and wise, though not learned. The Son, who took all Opportunities to show his Learning, began to establish a new Religion in the Family, and to enlarge the Narrowness of their Country Notions; in which he succeeded so well, that he had seduced the Butler by his Table Talk, and staggered his eldest Sister. The old Gentleman began to be alarmed at the Schisms that arose among his Children, but did not yet believe his Son's Doctrine to be so pernicious as it really was, 'till one Day talking of his Setting. Dog, the Son said, He did not question but
Trey
was as immortal as any one of the Family; and in the Heat of the Argument told his Father, That for his own Part, he expected to die like a Dog. Upon which, the old Man starting up in a very great Passion, cried out, Then, Sirrah, you shall live like one; and taking his Cane in his Hand, cudgelled him out of his System. This had so good an Effect upon him, that he took up from that Day, fell to reading good Books, and is now a Bencher in the
Middle-Temple.
I do not mention this Cudgelling Part of the Story with a Design to engage the secular Arm in Matters of this Nature; but certainly, if it ever exerts it self in Affairs of Opinion and Speculation, it ought to do it on such shallow and despicable Pretenders to Knowledge. who endeavour to give a Man dark and uncomfortable Prospects of his Being, and destroy those Principles which are the Support, Happiness, and Glory, of all publick Societies, as well as private Persons.
I think it is one of
Pythagoras
's Golden Sayings,
That a Man should take Care above all Things to have a due Respect for himself:
And it is certain, that this licentious Sort of Authors, who are for depreciating Mankind, endeavoured to disappoint and undo what the most refined Spirits have been labouring to advance since the Beginning of the World. The very Design of Dress, good Breedings, outward Ornaments, and Ceremony, were to lift up humane Nature, and set it off to an Advantage. Architecture, Painting, and Statuary, were invented with the same Design; as indeed every Art and Science contributes to the Embellishment of Life, and to the wearing off or throwing into Shades the mean and low Parts of our Nature. Poetry carries on this great End more than all the rest, as may be seen in the following Passage, taken out of Sir
Francis Bacon
's
Advancement of Learning,
which gives a truer and better Account of this Art than all the Volumes that were ever written upon it.
Poetry, especially Heroical, seems to be raised altogether from a noble Foundation, which makes much for the Dignity of Man's Nature. For seeing this sensible World is in Dignity inferior to the Soul of Man, Poesy seems to endow humane Nature with that which History denies; and to give Satisfaction to the Mind, with at least the Shadow of Things, where the Substance cannot be had. For if the Matter be throughly considered, a strong Argument may be drawn from Poesy, that a more stately Greatness of Things, a more perfect Order, and a more beautiful Variety, delights the Soul of Man, than any Way can be found in Nature since the Fall. Wherefore seeing the Acts and Events, which are the Subjects of true History, are not of that Amplitude as to content the Mind of Man; Poesy is ready at Hand to feign Acts more Heroical. Because true History reports the Successes of Business not proportionable to the Merit of Virtues and Vices, Poesy corrects it, and presents Events and Fortunes according to Desert, and according to the Law of Providence: Because true History, through the frequent Satiety and Similitude of Things, works a Distast and Misprision in the Mind of Man, Poesy cheareth and refresheth the Soul, chanting Things rare and various, and full of Vicissitudes. So as Poesy serveth and conferreth to Delectation, Magnanimity, and Morality; and therefore it may seem deservedly to have some Participation of Divineness, because it doth raise the Mind, and exalt the Spirit with high Raptures, by proportioning the Shews of Things to the Desires of the Mind; and not submitting the Mind to Things, as Reason and History do. And by these Allurements and Congruities, whereby it cherisheth the Soul of Man, joined also with Consort of Musick, whereby it may more sweetly insinuate it self; it hath won such Access, that it hath been in Estimation even in rude Times, and barbarous Nations, when other Learning stood excluded.
But there is nothing which favours and falls in with this natural Greatness and Dignity of humane Nature so much as Religion, which does not only promise the entire Refinement of the Mind, but the glorifying of the Body, and the Immortality of both.
The TATLER. [No 109.
Perditur haec inter miseris lux.
Hor.
From
Saturday Dec.
17. to
Tuesd. Dec.
20. 1709.
Sheer-Lane,
December 19.
THere has not some Years been such a Tumult in our Neighbourhood as this Evening about Six. At the lower End of the Lane the Word was given, That there was a great Funeral coming by. The next Moment came forward in a very hasty, instead of a solemn, Manner, a long Train of Lights, when at last a Footman, in very high Youth and Health, with all his Force, ran through the whole Art of beating the Door of the House next to me, and ended his Rattle with the true finishing Rap. This did not only bring one to the Door at which he knocked, but to that of every one in the Lane in an Instant. Amongst the rest, my Country Maid took the Alarm, and immediately running to me, told me, there was a fine, fine Lady, who had Three Men with Burial Torches making Way before her, carried by Two Men upon Poles, with Lookingglasses on each Side of her, and one Glass also before, she her self appearing the prettiest that ever was. The Girl was going on in her Story, when the Lady was come to my Door in her Chair, having mistaken the House. As soon as she entered, I saw she was Mr.
Isaac
's Scholar, by her Speaking Air, and the becoming Stop she made when she began her Apology. You'll be surprized Sir, (said she) that I take this Liberty. who am utterly a Stranger to you: Besides that, it may be thought an Indecorum that I visit a Man. She made here a pretty Hesitation, and held her Fan to her Face—Then, as if recovering her Resolution, she proceeded—But I think you have said, that Men of your Age are of no Sex; therefore I may be as free with you as one of my own. The Lady did me the Honour to consult me on some particular Matters, which I am not at Liberty to report. But before she took her Leave, she produced a long List of Names, which she looked upon to know whither she was to go next. I must confess, I could hardly forbear discovering to her immediately, that I secretly laughed at the fantastical Regularity she observed in throwing away her Time; but I seemed to indulge her in it, out of a Curiosity to hear her own Sense of her Way of Life. Mr.
Bickerstaff,
(said she) you cannot imagine how much you are obliged to me in staying thus long with you, having so many Visits to make; and indeed, if I had not Hopes that a Third Part of those I am going to will be Abroad, I should be unable to dispatch them this Evening. Madam, (said I) Are you in all this Haste and Perplexity, and only going to such as you have not a Mind to see? Yes Sir, (said she) I have several now with whom I keep a constant Correspondence, and return Visit for Visit punctually every Week, and yet we have not seen each other since last
November
was Twelvemonth.
She went on with a very good Air, and fixing her Eyes on her Li
t, told me, she was obliged to ride about Three Miles and an half before she arrived at her own House. I asked after what Manner this Li
t was taken, whether the Persons writ their Names to her, and desired that Favour, or how she knew she was not cheated in her Muster-Roll? The Method we take (says she) is, That the Porter or Servant who comes to the Door, writes down all the Names who come to see us, and all such are entitled to a Return of their Visit. But, said I, Madam, I presume those who are searching for each other, and know one another by Messages, may be understood as Candidates only for each other's Favour; and that after so many Howdee's, you proceed to visit or not, as you like the Run of each other's Reputation or Fortune. You understand it aright, said she, and we become Friends. As soon as we are convinced that our Dislike to each other may be of any Consequence, for to tell you truly, said she, (for it is in vain to hide any Thing from a Man of your Penetration) general Visits are not made out of good Will, but for Fear of ill Will. Punctuality in this Case is often a suspicious Circumstance; and there is nothing so common as to have a Lady say, I hope she has heard nothing of what I said of her, that she grows so great with me—But indeed, my Porter is so dull and negligent, that I fear he has not put down half the People I owe Visits to. Madam, said I, methinks it should be very proper if your Gentleman-Usher or Groom of the Chamber were always to keep an Account by Way of Debtor and Creditor. I know a City Lady who uses that Method, which I think very laudable; for tho' you may possibly at the Court-End of the Town receive at the Door, and light up better than within
Temple Bar,
yet I must do that Justice to my Friends the Ladies within the Walls to own, that they are much more exact in their Correspondence. The Lady I was going to mention as an Example, has always the Second Prentice out of the Compting-house for her own Use on her Visiting-Day, and he sets down very methodically all the Visits which are made her. I remember very well, that on the First of
January
last, when she made up her Account for the Year 1708, it stood thus:
Mrs.
Courtwood
Dr.
Per contra
Cr.
To Seventeen hundred and Four Visits received.
1704
By Eleven hundred and Nine paid.
1109
 
 
Due to Ballance
595
 
 
 
1704
This Gentlewoman is a Woman of great Oeconomy, and was not afraid to go to the Bottom of her Affairs; and therefore ordered her Apprentice to give her Credit for my Lady
Easy
's impertinent Visits upon wrong Days, and deduct only Twelve
per Cent.
He had Orders also to substract One and an Half from the whole of such as she had denied her self to before she kept a Day; and after taking those proper Articles of Credit on her Side, she was in Arrear but Five Hundred. She ordered her Husband to buy in a Couple of fresh Coach-Horses; and with no other Loss, than the Death of Two Footmen, and a Church-yard Cough brought upon her Coachman, she was clear in the World on the 10th of
February
last, and keeps so before-hand, that she pays every Body their own, and yet makes daily new Acquaintances. I know not whether this agreeable Visitant was fired with the Example of the Lady I told her of, but she immediately vanished out of my Sight, it being, it seems, as necessary a Point of good Breeding, to go off as if you stole something out of the House, as it is to enter as if you came to fire it. I do not know one Thing that contributes so much to the lessening the Esteem Men of Sense have to the Fair Sex as this Article of Visits. A young Lady cannot be married, but all the Impertinents in Town must be beating the
Tattoo
from one Quarter of the Town to the other, to show they know what passes. If a Man of Honour should once in an Age marry a Woman of Merit for her intrinsick Value, the envious Things are all in Motion in an Instant to make it known to the Sisterhood as an Indiseretion, and publish to the Town how many Pounds he might have had to have been troubled with one of them. After they are tired with that, the next Thing is, to make their Compliments to the married Couple and their Relations. They are equally busy at a Funeral, and the Death of a Person of Quality is always attended with the Murder of several Sets of Coach-Horses and Chairmen. In both Cases, the Visitants are wholly unaffected, either with Joy or Sorrow. For which Reason, their Congratulations and Condoleances are equally Words of Course; and one would be thought wonderfully ill-bred, that should build upon such Expressions as Encou
agements, to expect from them any Instance of Friendship.
Thus are the true Causes of Living, and the
d Pleasures of Life, lost in Show, Imposture, and Impertinence. As for my Part, I think most of the Misfortunes in Families arise from the trifling Way the Women have in spending their Time, and gratifying only their Eyes and
s, instead of their Reason and Understanding.
A fine young Woman, bred under a Visiting
ther knows all that is possible for her to be
ainted with by Report, and sees the Virtuous
d the Vicious used so indifferently, that the
rs she is born with are abated, and Desires in
ged, in Proportion to her Love of that light and trisling Conversation. I know I talk like an old Man; but I must go on to say, that I think, the general Reception of mixed Company, and me Pretty Fellows that are admitted at those Assemblies, give a young Woman so false an Idea of Life, that she is generally bred up with a
orn of that Sort of Merit in a Man, which only can make her happy in Marriage; and the Wretch, to whose Lot she falls, very often receives in his Arms a Conquet, with the Refuse of an Heart long before given away to a Coxcomb.
Having received from the Society of Upholders sundry Complaints of the obstinate and refractory Behaviour of several dead Persons, who have been guilty of very great Outrages and Disorders, and by that Means elaps'd the proper Time of their Interrment; and having on the other Hand received many Appeals from the aforesaid dead Persons, wherein they desire to be heard before such their Interrment; I have set apart
Wednesday
the 21st Instant, as an extraordinary Court-Day for the hearing both Parties. If therefore any one can alledge why they or any of their Acquaintance should or should not be buried, I desire they may be ready with their Witnesses at that Time, or that they will for ever after hold their Tongues.
N. B.
Thus is the last Hearing on this Subject.
The TATLER. [No 110.
— Quae Lucis Miseris tam dira Cupido?
Virg.
From
Tuesday Dec.
20. to
Thursd. Dec.
22. 1709.
Sheer-Lane,
December 21.
AS soon as I had placed my self in my Chair of Jud cature, I order'd my Clerk Mr.
Lillie
to read to the Assembly (who were gather'd together according to Notice) a certain Declaration, by Way of Charge, to open the Purpose of my Session, which tended only to this Explanation, That as other Courts were often called to demand the Execution of Persons dead in Law, so this was held to give the last Orders relating to those who are dead in Reason. The Solicitor of the new Company of Upholders near the
Haymarket
appeared in Behalf of that useful Society, and brought in an Accusation of a young Woman, who her self stood at the Bar before me. Mr.
Lillie
read her Indictment, which was in Substance, That whereas Mrs.
Rebecca Pindust,
of the Parish of St.
Martin in the Fields,
had, by the Use of one Instrument called a Lookingglass, and by the further Use of certain Attire, made either of Cambrick, Muslin, or other Linen Wares, upon her Head, attained to such an evil Art and Magical Force in the Motion of her Eyes and Turn of her Countenance, that she the said
Rebecca
had put to Death several young Men of the said Parish; and that the said young Men had acknowledged in certain Papers, commonly called Love Letters, (which were produced in Court, gilded on the Edges, and sealed with a particular Wax, with certain amorous and enchanting Words wrought upon the said Seals) that they died for the said
Rebecca:
And whereas the said
Rebecca
persisted in the said evil Practice; this Way of Life the said Society construed to be, according to former Edicts, a State of Death, and demanded an Order for the Interrment of the said
Rebecca.
I looked upon the Maid with great Humanity, and desired her to make Answer to what was said against her. She said, It was indeed true, that the had practised all the Arts and Means she could to dispose of her self happily in Marriage, but thought she did not come under the Censure expressed in my Writings for the same; and humbly hoped, I would not condemn her for the Ignorance of her Accusers, who according to their own Words, had rather represented her killing, than dead. She further alledged, That the Expressions mentioned in the Papers written to her, were become meer Words, and that she had been always ready to marry any of those who said they died for her; but that they made their Escape as soon as they found themselves pitied or believed. She ended her Discourse, by desiring I would for the future settle the Meaning of the Words,
I Die,
in Letters of Love.
Mrs.
Pindust
behaved her self with such an Air of Innocence, that she easily gained Credit, and was acquitted. Upon which Occasion, I gave it as a standing Rule. That any Persons, who in any Letter. Billet, or Discourse, should tell a Woman he died for her, should, if she pleased, be obliged to live with her, or be immediately interred upon such their own Confession, without Bail or Mainprize.
It happen'd, that the very next who was brought before me was one of her Admirers, who was indicted upon that very Head. A Letter which he acknowledged to be his own Hand was read; in which were the following Words;
Cruel Creature, I die for you
It was observable that he took Snuff all the Time his Accusation was reading. I asked him, How he came to use these Words, if he were not a dead Man? He told me, He was in Love with the Lady, and did not know any other Way of telling her so; and that all his Acquaintance took the same Method. Tho' I was moved with Compassion towards him by reason of the Weakness of his Parts, yet for Example's Sake, I was forced to answer, Your Sentence shall be a Warning to all the rest of your Companions; not to tell Lies for want of Wit. Upon this, he began to beat his Snuffbox with a very sawcy Air; and opening it again, Faith
Isaac,
said he, thou art a very unaccountable old Fellow—Prithee, who gave thee Power of Life and Death? What-a-Pox hast thou to do with Ladies and Lovers? I suppose thou wouldst have a Man be in Company with his Mistress, and say nothing to her. Dost thou call breaking a Jest, telling a Lie? Ha! Is that thy Wisdom, old Stiffrump, ha? He was going on with this insipid Common-place Mirth, sometimes opening his Box, sometimes shutting it, then viewing the Picture on the Lid, and then the Workmanship of the Hinge, when in the midst of his Eloquence, I order'd his Box to be taken from him; upon which he was immediately struck speechless, and carried off stone-dead.
The next who appeared, was a hale old Fellow of Sixty. He was brought in by his Relations, who desired Leave to bury him. Upon requiring a distinct Account of the Prisoner, a credible Witness deposed, That he always rose at Ten of the Clock, played with his Car till Twelve, smoaked Tobacco till One, was at Dinner till Two, then took another Pipe, played at Backgammon till Six, talked of one Madam
Frances,
an old Mistress of his, till Eight, repeated the same Account at the Tavern till Ten, then returned Home, took t'other Pipe, and then to Bed. I asked him, What he had to say for himself? As to what (said he) they mention concerning Madam
Frances
—I did not care for hearing a
Canterbury
Tale, and therefore thought my self seasonably interrupted by a young Gentleman, who appeared in the Behalf of the old Man, and prayed an Arrest of Judgment; for that he the said young Man held certain Lands by his the said old Man's Life. Upon this, the Solicitor of the Upholders took an Occasion to demand him also, and thereupon produced several Evidences that witnessed to his Life and Conversation. It appeared, That each of them divided their Hours in Matters of equal Moment and Importance to themselves and to the Publick. They rose at the same Hour: While the old Man was playing with his Cat, the young One was looking out of his Window; while the old Man was smoaking his Pipe, the young Man was rubbing his Teeth; while One was at Dinner, the Other was dressing; while One was at Backgammon, the Other was at Dinner; while the old Fellow was talking of Madam
Frances,
the young One was either at Play, or toasting Women whom he never convers'd with. The only Difference was, That the young Man had never been good for any Thing; the old Man, a Man of Worth before he knew Madam
Frances.
Upon the Whole, I order'd them to be both interred together, with Inscriptions proper to their Characters, signifying, That the old Man died in the Year 1689, and was buried in the Year 1709. And over the young One it was said, That he departed this World in the 25th Year of his Death.
The next Class of Criminals, were Authors in Prose and Verse. Those of them who had produced any still-born Work, were immediately dismissed to their Burial, and were followed by others, who, notwithstanding some sprightly Issue in their Life-time, had given Proofs of their Death by some Posthumous Children, that bore no Resemblance to their elder Brethren. As for those who were the Fathers of a mixed Progeny, provided always they could prove the last to be a live Child, they escaped with Life, but not without Loss of Limbs; for in this Case, I was satisfied with Amputation of the Parts which were mortified.
These were followed by a great Crowd of superannuated Benchers of the Inns of Court, Senior Fellows of Colleges, and defunct Statesmen: all whom I order'd to be decimated indifferently, allowing the rest a Reprieve for one Year, with a Promise of a free Pardon in case of Resuscitation.
There were still great Multitudes to be examined; but finding it very late. I adjourned the Court; not without the secret Pleasure that I had done my Duty, and furnished out an handsome Execution.
Going out of the Court, I received a Letter, informing me, That in Pursuance of the Edict of Justice in one of my late Visions, all those of the Fair Sex began to appear pregnant who had ran any Hazard of it; as was manifest by a particular Swelling in the Petticoats of several Ladies in and about this great City. I must confess, I do not attribute the Rising of this Part of the Dress to this Occasion, yet must own, that I am very much disposed to be offended with such a new and unaccountable Fashion. I shall however pronounce nothing upon it, till I have examined all that can be said for and against it. And in the mean Time, think fit to give this Notice to the fair Ladies who are now making up their Winter-Suits, that they may abstain from all Dresses of that Kind, till they shall find what Judgment will be passed upon them; for it would very much trouble me, that they should put themselves to an unnecessary Expence; and could not but think my self to blame, if I should hereafter forbid them the Wearing of such Garments, when they have laid out Money upon them, without having given them any previous Admonition.
N. B.
A Letter of the 16th Instant about one of the 5th, will be answered according to the Desire of the Party, which he will see in few Days.
The TATLER. [No 111.
— Procul O! Procul este Profani!
Virg.
From
Thursd. Dec.
22. to
Saturd. Dec.
24. 1709.
Sheer Lane,
December 23.
THE Watchman, who does me particular Honours, as being the chief Man in the Lane, gave so very great a Thump at my Door last Night, that I awakened at the Knock, and heard my self complimented with the usual Sakitation of,
Good morrow Mr.
Bickerstaff,
Good morrow my Masters all.
The Silence and Darkness of the Night, disposed me to be more than ordinarily serious; and as my Attention was not drawn out among exterior Objects, by the Avocations of Sense, my Thoughts naturally fell upon my self. I was considering, amidst the Stilness of the Night What was the proper Employment of a Thinking Being? What were the Perfections it should propose to it self? And, What the End it should aim at? My Mind is of such a particular Cast, that the Falling of a Shower of Rain, or the Whistling of Wind, at such a Time, is apt to fill my Thoughts with something awful and solemn. I was in this Disposition, when our Bellman began his Midnight Homily (which he has been repeating to us every Winter Night for these Twenty Years) with the usual Exordium:
Oh! mortal Man, thou that art born in Sin!
Sentiments of this Nature, which are in themselves just and reasonable, however debased by the Circumstances that accompany them, do not fail to produce their natural Effect in a Mind that is not perverted and depraved by wrong Notions of Gallantry, Politeness, and Ridicule. The Temper which I now found my self in, as well as the Time of the Year, put me in Mind of those Lines in
Shakespeare,
wherein, according to his agreeable Wildness of Imagination, he has wrought a Country Tradition into a beautiful Piece of Poetry. In the Tragedy of
Hamlet,
where the Ghost vanishes upon the Cock's Crowing, he takes Occasion to mention its Crowing all Hours of the Night about
Christmas
Time, and to insinuate a Kind of religious Veneration for that Season.
It faded on the Crowing of the Cock.
Some say, That ever 'gainst that Season comes
Wherein our Saviour's Birth is celebrated,
The Bird of Dawning singeth all Night long;
And then, say they, no Spirit dares walk abroad:
The Nights are wholesome, then no Planets strike,
No Fairy takes, no Witch has Power to charm;
So hallowed, and so gracious to the Time.
This admirable Author, as well as the best and greatest Men of all Ages, and of all Nations, seems to have had his Mind throughly seasoned with Religion, as is evident by many Passages in his Plays, that would not be suffered by a modern Audience; and are therefore certain Instances, that the Age he lived in had a much greater Sense of Virtue than the present.
It is indeed a melancholy Reduction to consider, That the
British
Nation, which is now at a greater Height of Glory for its Councils and Conquests than it ever was before, should distinguish it self by a certain Looseness of Principles, and a Falling off from those Schemes of Thinking, which conduce to the Happiness and Perfection of humane Nature. This Evil comes upon us from the Works of a few solemn Blockheads, that meet together with the Zeal and Seriousness of Apostles, to extirpate common Sense, and propagate Infidelity. These are the Wretches, who, without any Show of Wit, Learning, or Reason, publish their crude Conceptions with an Ambition of appearing more wise than the rest of Mankind, upon no other Pretence, than that of dissenting from them. One gets by Heart a Catalogue of Title Pages and Editions; and immediately to become conspicuous, declares that he is an Unbeliever. Another knows how to write a Receipt, or cut up a Dog, and forthwith argues against the Immortality of the Soul. I have known many a little Wit, in the Ostentation of his Parts, rally the Truth of the Scripture, who was not able to read a Chapter in it. These poor Wretches talk Blasphemy for want of Discourse, and are rather the Objects of Scorn or Pity, than of our Indignation; but the grave Disputant, that reads and writes, and spends all his Time in convincing himself and the World, that he is no better than a Brute, ought to be whipped out of a Government, as a Blot to a civil Society, and a Defamer of Mankind. I love to consider an Infidel, whether distinguished by the Title of Deist, Atheist, or Free-Thinker, in Three different Lights, in his Solitudes, his Afflictions, and his last Moments.
A wise Man, that lives up to the Principles of Reason and Virtue, if one considers him in his Solitude, as taking in the System of the Universe, observing the mutual Dependance and Harmony, by which the whole Frame of it hangs together, beating down his Passions, or swelling his Thoughts with magnificent Idea's of Providence, makes a nobler Figure in the Eye of an intelligent Being, than the greatest Conqueror amidst all the Pomps and Solemnities of a Triumph. On the contrary, there is not a more ridiculous Animal than an Atheist in his Retirement. His Mind is incapable of Rapture or Elevation: He can only consider himself as an insignificant Figure in a Landskip, and wandring up and down in a Field or a Meadow, under the same Terms as the meanest Animals about him, and as subject to as total a Mortality as they, with this Aggravation, That he is the only one amongst 'em who lies under the Apprehension of it.
In Distresses, he must be of all Creatures the most helpless and forlorn; he feels the whole Pressure of a present Calamity, without being relieved by the Memory of any Thing that is passed, or the Prospect of any Thing that is to come. Annihilation is the greatest Blessing that he proposes to himself, and an Halter or a Pistol the only Refuge he can fly to. But if you would behold one of these Goomy Miscreants in his poorest Figure, you must consider him under the Terrors, or at the Approach, of Death.
About Thirty Years ago I was a Shipboard with one of these Vermin, when there arose a brisk Gale, which could frighten no Body but himself. Upon the Rowling of the Ship he fell upon his Knees, and confessed to the Chaplain, that he had been a vile Atheist, and had denied a Supreme Being ever since he came to his Estate. The good Man was astonished, and a Report immediately ran thro' the Ship, That there was an Atheist upon the Upper-Deck. Several of the common Seamen, who had never heard the Word before, thought it had been some strange Fish; but they were more surprised when they saw it was a Man, and heard out of his own Mouth, That he never beheved till that Day that there was a God. As he lay in the Agonies of Confession, one of the honest Tarrs whispered to the Boatswain, That it would be a good Deed to heave him over Board. But we were now within Sight of Port, when of a sudden the Wind fell, and the Penitent relapsed, begging all of us that were present, as we were Gentlemen, not to say any Thing of what had passed.
He had not been ashore above Two Days, when one of the Company began to rally him upon his Devotion on Shipboard, which the other denied in so high Terms, that it produced the Lie on both Sides, and ended in a Duel. The Atheist was run through the Body, and after some Loss of Blood, became as good a Christian as he was at Sea, till he found that his Wound was not mortal. He is at present one of the Free Thinkers of the Age, and now writing a Pamphlet against several receiv'd Opinions concerning the Existence of Fairies.
As I have taken upon me to censure the Faults of the Age and Country which I live in, I should have thought my self inexcusable to have passed over this Crying one, which is the Subject of my present Discourse. I shall therefore from Time to Time give my Countrymen particular Cautions against this Distemper of the Mind, that is almost become fashionable, and by that Means more likely to spread. I have somewhere either read or heard a very memorable Sentence, That a Man would be a most insupportable Monster, should he have the Faults that are incident to his Years. Constitution, Profession, Family, Religion, Age, and Country; and yet every Man is in Danger of them all. For this Reason, as I am an old Man, I take particular Care to avoid being covetous, and telling long Stories: As I am Cholerick, I forbear not only Swearing, but all Interjections of Fretting, as Pugh! Pish! and the like. As I am a Layman, I resolve not to conceive an A version for a wise and a good Man, because his Coat is of a different Colour from mine. As I am descended of the ancient Family of the
Bickerstaffs,
I never call a Man of Merit an Upstart. As a Protestant, I do not suffer my Zeal so far to transport me, as to name the Pope and the Devil together. As I am fallen into this degenerate Age, I guard my self particularly against the Folly I have been now speaking of. And as I am an
Englishman,
I am very cautious not to hate a Stranger, or despise a poor
Palatine.
The TATLER. [No 112.
Accedat Suavitas quaedam oportet Sermonum, atque Morum, haudquaquam mediocre Condimentum Amicitiae. Tristitia autem, & in omni Re Severitas absit. Habet illa quidem Gravitatem, sed Amicitia remissior esse debet, & liberior, & dulcior, & ad omnem Comitatem Facilitatemque proclivior.
Tull.
From
Saturd. Dec.
24. to
Tuesd. Dec.
27. 1709.
Sheer-Lane,
December 26.
AS I was looking over my Letters this Morning, I chanced to cast my Eye upon the following one, which came to my Hands about Two Months ago from an old Friend of mine, who, as I have since learned, was the Person that writ the agreeable Epistle inserted in my Paper of the Third of the last Month. It is of the same Turn with the other, and may be looked upon as a Specimen of
Right Country Letters.
SIR,
THis sets out to you from my Summer-House upon the Terras, where I am enjoying a few Hours Sun shine, the seanty sweet Remains of a fiue Autumn. The Year is almost at the lowest; so that in all Appearance, the rest of my Letters between this and Spring will be dated from my Parlour Fire, where the little fond Prattle of a Wife and Children will so often break in upon the Connexion of my Thoughts, that you'll easily discover it in my Style. If this Winter should prove as severe as the last, I can tell you before-hand, that I am likely to be a very miserable Man, through the perverse Temper of my eldest Boy. When the Frost was in its Extremity, you must know, that most of the Black-birds, Robins, and Finches, of the Parish (whose Musick had entertained me in the Summer) took Refuge under my Roof. Upon this, my Care was, to rise every Morning before Day to set open my Windows for the Reception of the Cold and the Hungry, whom at the same Time I relieved with a very plentiful Alms by strewing Corn and Seeds upon the Floors and Shelves. But
Dicky,
without any Regard to the Laws of Hospitality, considered the Casements as so many Traps, and used every Bird as a Prisoner at Discretion. Never did Tyrant exercise more various Cruelties: Some of the poor Creatures he chased to Death about the Room; others he drove into the Jaws of a Blood-thirsty Cat; and even in his great st Acts of Mercy, either clipped the Wings, or singed the Tails, of his innocent Captives. You'll laugh, when I tell you I sympathiz'd with every Bird in its Misfortunes; but I believe y
u'll think me in the Right for bewailing the Child's unlucky Humour. On the other Hand, I am extremely
sed, to see his younger Brother carry an universal Benevol
nce towards every Thing that has L
fe. Wh
n he was between Four and Five Years old, I caught him weeping over a beautiful Butt
fly, which he chanced to kill as he was playing with it; and I am informed, that this Morning he has given his Brother Three Halfpence (which was his whole Estate) to spare the L
fe of a T
m Tit. These are at present the Matters of greatest Moment within my Observation, and I know are too trifling to be communicated to any but so wise a Man as your self, and from one who has the Happiness to be
Your most Faithful, And most Obedient Servant.
The best Critick that ever wrote, speaking of some Passages in
Homer
which appear extravagant or frivolous, says indeed that they are Dreams; but the Dreams of
Jupiter.
My Friend's Letter appears to me in the same Light. One sees him in an idle Hour; but at the same Time in the idle Hour of a wise Man. A great Mind has something in it too severe and forbidding that is not capable of giving it self such little Relaxations, and of condescending to these agreeable Ways of Trifling.
Tully,
when he celebrates the Friendship of
Scipio
and
Lelius,
who were the greatest as well as the politest Men of their Age, represents it as a beautiful Passage in their Retirement, that they used to gather up Shells on the Sea-shore, and amuse themselves with the Variety of Shape and Colour, which they met with in those little unregarded Works of Nature. The great
Agesilaus
could be a Companion to his own Children, and was surprized by the Ambassadors of
Sparta,
as he was riding among them upon an Hobby-Horse.
Augustus
indeed had no Play-Fellows of his own begetting; but is said to have passed many of his Hours with little
Moorish
Boys at a Game of Marbles, not unlike our mod rn Taw. There is (methinks) a Pleasure in seeing great Men thus fall into the Rank of Mankind, and entertain themselves with Diversions and Amusements that are agreeable to the very weakest of the Species. I must frankly confess, that it is to me a Beauty in
Cato
's Character, that he would drink a chearful Bottle with a Friend, and I cannot but own, that I have seen with great Delight one of the most celebrated Authors of the last Age feeding the Ducks in St.
James
's Park. By Instances or this Nature, the Heroes, the Statesmen, the Philosophers, become as it were familiar with us, and grow the more amiable, the less they endeavour to appear awful. A Man who always acts in the Severity of Wisdom, or the Haughtiness of Quality, seems to move in a personated art: It looks too Const ained and Theatrical for a Man to be always in that Character which distinguishes him from others. Besides that, the Slackening and Unbending our Minds on some Occasions, makes them exert themselves with greater Vigour and Alacrity, when they return to their proper and natural State.
As this innocent Way of passing a leisure Hour is not only consistent with a great Character, but very graceful in it, so there are Two Sorts of People to whom I would most earnestly recommend it. The First, are those who are uneasy out of Want of Thought; the Second, are those who are so out of a Turbulence of Spirit. The First a e the impertinent, and the Second the dangerous Part of Mankind.
It grieves me to the very Heart, when I see several young Gentlemen, descended of honest Parents, run up and down hurrying from one End of the Town to the other, calling in at every Place of Resort, without being able to fix a Qua ter of an Hour in any, and in a particular Haste without knowing for what. It would (methinks) be some Consolation, if I could perswade these precipitate young Gentlemen to compose this Restlesness of Mind, and apply themselves to any Amusement, how trivial soever, that might give them Employment, and keep them out of Harm's Way. They cannot imagine how great a Relief it would be to them, if they could grow sedate enough to play for Two or Three Hours at a Game of Push-pin. But these busy, idle Animals, are only their own Tormentors: The Turbulent and Dangerous are for embroiling Councils, stirring up Seditions, and subverting Constitutions, out of a meer Restlesness of Temper, and an Insensibility of all the Pleasures of Life that are calm and innocent. It is impossible for a Man to be so much employed in any Scene of Action, as to have great and good Affairs enough to fill up his whole Time; there will still be Casms and empty Spaces, in which a working Mind will employ it self to its own Prejudice, or that of others, unless it can be at Ease in the Exercise of such Actions as are in themselves indifferent. How often have I wished, for the Good of the Nation, That several famous Politicians could take any Pleasure in feeding Ducks. I look upon an able Statesman out of Business like a huge Whale, that will endeavour to overturn the Ship, unless he has an empty Cask to play with.
But to return to my good Friend and Correspondent, I am afraid we shall both be laughed at, when I confess, that we have often gone out into the Field to look upon a Bird's-Nest; and have more than once taken an Evening's Walk together on purpose to see the Sun set. I shall conclude with my Answer to his foregoing Letter:
Dear SIR,
I Thank you for your obliging Letter, and your Kindness to the Distressed, who will, doubtless, express their Gratitude to you themselves the next Sp
ng. As for
Dick
the Tyrant, I must desire you will put a Stop to his Proceedings; and at the same Time take Care, that his little Brother be no Loser by his Mercy to the
Tom-Tit.
For my own Part, I am excluded all Conversation with Ammals that delight only in a Country Life, and am therefore forced to entertain my self as well as I can with my little Dog and Cat. They both of 'em sit by my Fire every Night, expecting my coming Home with impatience; and at my Entrance, never fail of running up to me, and bidding me welcome, each of 'em in his proper Language. As they have been bred up together from their Infancy, and seen no other Company, they have learned each others Manners, so that the Dog often gave himself the Airs of a Cat, and the Cat in several of her Motions and Gestures, affects the Behaviour of the little Dog. When they are at Play, I often make one with them; and sometimes please my self with considering how much Reason and Instinct are capable of delighting each other. Thus, you see, I have communicated to you the material Occurrences in my Family, with the same Freedom that you use to me; as I am with the same Sincerity and Affection,
Your most Faithful Humble Servant,
Isaac Bickerstaff.
The TATLER. [No 113.
Ecce iterum Crispinus!
Juv.
From
Tuesday Dec.
27. to
Thursday Dec.
29. 1709.
Hay-Market,
December 23.
WHereas the Gentleman that behaved himself in a very disobedient and obstinate Manner at his late Trial in
Sheer-Lane
on the 20th Instant, and was carried off dead upon the taking away of his Snuff-Box, remains still unburied; the Company of Upholders not knowing otherwise how they should be paid, have taken his Goods in Execution to defray the Charge of his Funeral. His said Effects are to be exposed to Sale by Auction at their Office in the
Hay-market
on the 4th of
January
next, and are as follows:
A very rich Tweezer-Case, containing Twelve Instruments for the Use of each Hour in the Day.
Four Pounds of scented Snuff, with Three gilt Snuff-Boxes; one of them with an invisible Hinge, and a Looking-glass in the Lid.
Two more of Ivory, with the Portraitures on their Lids of Two Ladies of the Town; the Originals to be seen every Night in the Side-Boxes of the Playhouse.
A Sword with a Steel Diamond Hilt, never drawn but once at
May-Fair.
Six clean Packs of Cards, a Quart of Orange-Flower Water, a Pair of
French
Scissars, a Toothpick Case, and an Eyebrow Brush.
A large Glass-Case, containing the Linen and Clothes of the Deceased; among which are, Two embroider'd Suits, a Pocket Perspective, a Dozen Pair of Red-heel'd Shoes, Three Pair of Red Silk Stockings, and an Amber-headed Cane.
The Strong Box of the Deceased, wherein were found, Five Billetdoux, a
Bath
Shilling, a crooked Sixpence, a Silk Garter, a Lock of Hair, and Three broken Fans.
A Press for Books; containing on the Upper Shelf,
Three Bottles of Diet-Drink.
Two Boxes of Pills.
A Syringe, and other Mathematical Instruments.
On the Second Shelf are several Miscellaneous Works; as,
Lampoons.
Plays.
Taylors Bills.
And an
Almanack
for the Year Seventeen Hundred.
On the Third Shelf.
A Bundle of Letters unopened, indorsed, (in the Hand of the Deceased)
Letters from the Old Gentleman.
Lessons for the Flute.
Toland
's Christianity not Mysterious. And a Paper filled with Patterns of several fashionable Stuffs.
On the Lowest Shelf,
One Shoe.
A Pair of Snuffers.
A
French
Grammar.
A Mourning Hatband: And half a Bottle of Usquebaugh.
There will be added to these Goods, to make a compleat Auction, a Collection of Gold Snuff-Boxes and clouded Canes, which are to continue in Fashion for Three Months after the Sale.
The Whole are to be set up and prized by
Charles Eubbleboy,
who is to open the Auction with a Speech.
I find that I am so very unhappy, that while I am busy in correcting the Folly and Vice of one Sex, several Exorbitances break out in the other. I have not throughly examined their new-fashioned Petticoats, but shall set aside one Day in the next Week for that Purpose. The following Petition on this Subject was presented to me this Morning.
The humble Petition of
William Jingle,
Coachmaker and Chair-maker of the Liberty of
Westminster.
To
Isaac Bickerstaff
Esq
Censor of
Great Britain:
SHEWETH,
That upon the late Invention of Mrs.
Catherine Cross-Stitch,
Mantoe maker, the Petticoats of Ladies were too wide for entring into any Coach or Cha r which was in Use before the said Invention.
That for the Service of the said Ladies, your Petitioner has built a round Chair, in the Form of a Lanthorn, Six Yards and an half in Circumference, with a Stool in the Centre of it; the said Vehicle being so contrived, as to receive the Passenger by opening in two in the Middle, and closing mathematically when she is seated.
That your Petitioner has also invented a Coach for the Reception of one Lady only, who is to be let in at the Top.
That the said Coach has been tried by a Lady's Woman in one of these full Petticoats, who was let down from a Balcony, and drawn up again by Pullies, to the great Satisfaction of her Lady, and all who beheld her.
Your Petitioner therefore most humbly prays, That for the Encouragement of Ingenuity and useful Inventions, he may be heard before you pass Sentence upon the Petticoats aforesaid.
And your Petitioner,
&c.
I have likewise received a Female Petition, signed by several Thousands, praying, That I would not any longer defer giving Judgment in the Case of the Petticoat, many of them having Put off the making new Clothes, till such Time as they know what Verdict will pass upon it. I do therefore hereby certify to all whom it may concern, That I do design to set apart
Tuesday
next for the final Determination of that Matter, having already ordered a Jury of Matrons to be impannelled, for the clearing up of any difficult Points that may arise in the Trial.
Being informed, That several Dead Men in and about this City do keep out of the Way and abscond, for Fear of being buried; and being willing to respite their Interrment, in Consideration of their Families, and in Hopes of their Amendment, I shall allow them certain Privileged-Places, where they may appear to one another, without causing any Lett or Molestation to the Living, or receiving any in their own Persons from the Company of Upholders. Between the Hours of Seven and Nine in the Morning, they may appear in Safety at St.
James's
Coffee-house, or at
White
's, if they do not keep their Beds, which is more proper for Men in their Condition. From Nine to Eleven, I allow them to walk from
Story
's to
Rosamond
's Pond in the
Park,
or in any other publick Walks which are not frequented by the Living at that Time. Between Eleven and Three, they are to vanish, and keep out of Sight till Three in the Afternoon; at which Time, they may go to
Change
till Five; and then, if they please, divert themselves at the
Hay-Market,
or
Druty-Lane,
till the Play begins. It is further granted in Favour of these Persons, That they may be received at any Table, where there are more present than Seven in Number; provided, that they do not take upon them to talk, judge, commend, or find Fault with any Speech, Action or Behaviour, of the Living. In which Case, it shall be lawful to seize their Persons at any Place or Hour whatsoever, and to convey their Bodies to the next Undertakers; any Thing in this Advertisement to the contrary notwithstanding.
The TATLER. [No 114.
Ut in Vitâ sic in Studiis, pulcherrimum & humanissimum, existimo, Severitatem Comitatemque miscere, ne illa in Tristitiam, haec in Petulantiam procedat.
Plin. Epist.
From
Thursd. Dec.
29. to
Saturd. Dec.
31. 1709.
Sheer-Lane,
December 30.
I Was walking about my Chamber this Morning in a very gay Humour, when I saw a Coach stop at my Door, and a Youth about Fifteen alighting out of it, whom I perceived to be the eldest Son of my Bosom-Friend that I gave some Account of in my Paper of the 17th of the last Month. I felt a sensible Pleasure rising in me at the Sight of him, my Acquaintance having begun with his Father when he was just such a Stripling, and about that very Age. When he came up to me, he took me by the Hand, and burst out in Tears. I was extremely moved, and immediately said, Child, How does your Father do? He began to reply, My Mother—But could not go on for weeping. I went down with him into the Coach, and gathered out of him, That his Mother was then dying, and that while the holy Man was doing the last Offices to her, he had taken that Time to come and call me to his Father, who (he said) would certainly break his Heart if I did not go and comfort him. The Child's Discretion in coming to me of his own Head, and the Tenderness he showed for his Parents, would have quite overpowered me, had I not resolved to fortify my self for the seasonable Performances of those Duties which I owed to my Friend. As we were going, I could not but reflect upon the Character of that excellent Woman, and the Greatness of his Grief for the Loss of one who has ever been the Support to him under all other Afflictions. How (thought I) will he be able to bear the Hour of her Death, that could not, when I was lately with him, speak of a Sickness, which was then past, without Sorrow. We were now got pretty far into
Westm nster,
and arrived at my Friend's House. At the Door of it I met
Favonius,
not without a secret Satisfaction to find he had been there. I had formerly conversed with him at this House; and as he abounds with that Sort of Virtue and Knowledge which makes Religion beautiful, and never leads the Conversation into the Violence and Rage of Party-Disputes, I listened to him with great Pleasure. Our Discourse chanced to be upon the Subject of Death, which he treated with such a Strength of Reason, and Greatness of Soul, that instead of being terrible, it appeared to a Mind rightly cultivated, altogether to be contemned, or rather to be desired. As I met him at the Door, I saw in his Face a certain Glowing of G ief and Humanity, heighten'd with an Air of Fortitude and Resolution, which, as I afterwards found, had such an irresistible Force, as to suspend the Pains of the Dying, and the Lamentation of the nearest Friends who attended her. I went up directly to the Room where she lay, and was met at the Entrance by my Friend, who, notwithstanding his Thoughts had been composed a little before at the Sight of me, turned away his Face and wept. The little Family of Children renewed the Expressions of their Sorrow according to their several Ages and Degrees of Understanding. The eldest Daughter was in Tears, busied in Attendance upon her Mother; others were kneeling about the Bed-side: And what troubled me most was, to see a little Boy, who was too young to know the Reason, weeping only because his Sisters did. The only one in the Room who seemed resigned and comforted, was the dying Person. At my Approach to the Bed-side, she told me, with a low broken Voice, This is kindly done—Take Care of your Friend—Don't go from him. She had before taken Leave of her Husband and Children, in a Manner proper for so solemn a Parting, and with a Gracefulness peculiar to a Woman of her Character. My Heart was torn in Pieces to see the Husband on one Side suppressing and keeping down the Swellings of his Grief, for Fear of disturbing her in her last Moments; and the Wife even at that Time concealing the Pains she endured, for Fear of encreasing his Affliction. She kept her Eyes upon him for some Moments after she grew speechless, and soon after closed them for ever. In the Moment of her Departure, my Friend (who had thus far commanded himself) gave a deep Groan, and fell into a Swoon by her Bedside. The Distraction of the Children, who thought they saw both their Parents expiring together, and now lying dead before them, would have melted the hardest Heart; but they soon perceived their Father recover, whom I helped to remove into another Room, with a Resolution to accompany him till the first Pangs of his Affliction were abated. I knew Consolation would now be impertinent; and therefore contented my self to sit by him, and condole with him in Silence. For I shall here use the Method of an ancient Author, who in one of his Epistles relating the Virtues and Death of
Macrinus
's Wife, expresses himself thus;
"I shall suspend my Advice to this best of Friends, till he is made capable of receiving it by those Three great Remedies,
(Necessitas ipsa, Dies longa, & Satietas Doloris)
The Necessity of Submission, Length of Time, and Satiety of Grief.'
In the mean Time, I cannot but consider with much Commiseration, the melancholy State of one who has had such a Part of himself torn from him, and which he misses in every Circumstance of Life. His Condition is like that of one who has lately lost his Right Arm, and is every Moment offering to help himself with it. He does not appear to himself the same Person in his House, at his Table, in Company, or in Retirement; and loses the Relish of all the Pleasures and Diversious that were before entertaining to him by her Participation of them. The most agreeable Objects recall the Sorrow for her with whom he used to enjoy them. This additional Satisfaction, from the Tast of Pleasures in the Society of one we love, is admirably described in
Milton,
who represents
Eve,
though in Paradise it self, no further pleased with the beautiful Objects around her, than as she sees them in Company with
Adam,
in that Passage so inexpressibly charming.
With Thee conversing, I forget all Time,
All Seasons, and their Change; all please alike.
Sweet is the Breath of Morn, her Rising sweet
With Charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun,
When first on this delightful Land he spreads
His Orient Beams, on Herb, Tree, Fruit and Flower
Glist'ring with Dew; fragrant the fertile Earth.
After soft Showers, and sweet the coming on
Of grateful Evening mild; the silent Night,
With this her solemn Bird, and this fair Moon,
And these the Gems of Heaven her Starry Train.
But neither Breath of Morn when she ascends,
With Charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun
In this delightful Land, nor Herb, Fruit, Flower,
Glist'ring with Dew, nor Fragrance after Showers,
Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night,
With this her solemn Bird, nor Walk by Moon;
Or glittering Star-light, without Thee is sweet.
The Variety of Images in this Passage is infinitely pleasing, and the Recapitulation of each particular Image, with a little varying of the Expression, makes one of the finest Turns of Words that I have ever seen: Which I rather mention, because Mr.
Dryden
has said in his Preface to
Juvenal,
That he could meet with no Turn of Words in
Milton.
It may further be observed, That though the Sweetness of these Verses has something in it of a Pastoral, yet it excels the ordinary Kind, as much as the Scene of it is above an ordinary Field or Meadow. I might here, since I am accidentally led into this Subject, show several Passages in
Milton
that have as excellent Turns of this Nature, as any of our
English
Poets whatsoever; but shall only mention that which follows, in which he describes the Fallen Angels engaged in the intricate Disputes of Predestination, Freewill, and Fore-knowledge; and to humour the Perplexity, makes a Kind of Labyrinth in the very Words that describe it.
Others apart sat on a Hill retir'd,
In Thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high
Of Providence, Fore-knowledge, Will and Fate,
Fix'd Fate, Free-will, Fore-knowledge absolute,
And found no End in wand'ring Mazes lost.
The End of the Second Volume.
AN INDEX TO THE TATLERS.
VOL. II.
A.
ACteon
's Manner of Life.
Page
56
Action necessary to Eloquence. 103
— Wanted in our Clergy. 104
— Applauded in an eminent Dean.
Ibid.
Actors censur'd for adding Words of their own in their Parts. 250
Advice to young People. 335
Affectation of Vice and Imperfections censured. 176
Affections, how govern'd. 23
Afterwit
's Observations on the Town. 216
Allegory of Virtue and Pleasure, making their Court to
Socrates
291
B.
Bacon
(Sir
Francis
), his Sentiments of Poetry,
Page
355
Battle Criticks, what. 98
Battle of
Blaregnies.
90, 92
Beauty, how long it ought to be the Care of the Fair Sex. 71
Betterton
applauded. 143
Bickerstaff,
an Epitome of his Life. 248, 249
— Like to be married. 259
Bickerstaff
charged with injuring a certain Person by his Satyr. 140
— His Resolution thereupon. 141
Bickerstaff
vindicated from that Charge. 173
— Answer'd by the same Hand. 159
Bickerstaff
's Account of his Love. 349
Bickerstaff
's Court-day for hearing Petitions. 324
Bickerstaff
's Scrutore. 181
Bickerstaffs,
their Race; how improved. 165
Blindness cured by Mr.
Grant,
with the Circumstances of the Patient when he received a new Sense. 30
Plunder
buys Arms without Touch-holes. 75
Boatswain, his disinterested Arguments to prevent his being eaten. 81
Bombardier, what. 241
Books, how to be valued. 192
Boufflers
's Letter to the King, after the Battle of
Blaregnies.
180
Bribery with Coals, and Reflections thereupon. 156
Bruyere
's Satyr on the
French.
47
C.
Cane, a Petition to wear one. 195
Chappel-Clerk explain'd. 151
Chastity, its Value instanced in
Scipio. Page
49
Christmas
-Eve,
Shakespear
's Description of it. 369
Cleomira,
her Painting censured. 72
Commendations of one's self, how necessary. 260
Compassion, how moved in Men and Women. 122
— Instanced in a Passage out of
Macbeth.
123
Complaint of not succeeding in Endeavours to reform Mankind. 288
Conjugal Affection described. 385
Coppersmith (Will.),
his Character compared with the Sharpers. 44
Coppersmith, the Name explain'd. 70
Coquettry, its Effects on a Young Gentleman. 345
— Advice how to overcome the Power of it. 348
Country Gentlemen, no Ceremony. 230
Coxcomb, described by
Suckling.
48
Crassus
's Character. 257
Cynthio
's Passion for
Clarissa.
49
Cynthio
's Death. 227
— His Epitaph and Tomb. 228
D.
Dincing Master, an Account of his Studies, and his Dancing by Book. 244
Daniel
's Way of Preaching. 105
Dapper. Ibid.
106
Dapper
's Character. 226
Dead Men. who. 286
Dead Persons heard, judged and censured. 363
— Allegations laid against them, their Pleas,
&c. ibid.
Delamira
resigns her Fan; with its Vertues, Management,
&c.
8, 9
— Her Account of her Conquests 10
Description of a Rural Squire. 289
Dissentions owing to the Laziness of the Clergy. 125
Distresses, the Benefit of contemplating on them.
Page
206
Dogs, a List of the Kennels. 76
— How to be disposed of. 77
Dress of Rural Squires. 289
Dromio,
a Sharper, his Character. 38
Dumb-Doctor. 137
Duumvir
's Character and Way of Life. 23
— His Behaviour to his Wife and Mistress. 24
E.
Eboracensis
's Merit and Character. 127
Elmira
vindicated for not grieving at the Death of her Husband. 15
— Her Character, and Manner of Life.
Ibid.
Eloquence described. 103, 133
Emilia,
her Complaint of the Country. 43
— Advised to have less Humility to please in the Country.
Ibid.
Epicene
censured. 89
Equipage, proper to be set off by a Rent-Roll. 109
Euphusius
's Character. 171
F.
Fame (Bank of) 239
Fame, the Plan of the Chamber. 112
Fame (the Table of), of what Importance. 162
— The Table it self. 197
Fan, its Motion discovers the Ladies Thoughts. 10
Favonius
applauded. 384
Favonius
's Merit. 149
Fellow, its various Signification. 14
Fencing, how learned by
Bickerstaff.
272
— Cautions People thereupon not to affront him. 173
Fire-men described. 67
Florinda
's Pretensions to Life. 245
Fondness of Wife and Children instanced.
Page
280
Fop, an Inventory of his Effects, which were seiz'd for the Charge of his Interrment. 379
For,
and
For as much,
discussed. 52
Free-thinkers censured. 354, 370
— Considered in Distresses. 371
Free-thinkers cudgell'd. 354
French,
their Shifts and Subterfuges. 91
French
Writers of Memoris exploded. 221
G.
Gallantry, what Effects it has on Men; instanced in a Story of a Theatre on Fire. 274, 275
Good-natured Man, what. 170
Greenhat
's Criticism upon
Bickerstaff,
with Remarks thereupon. 157
The
Greenhat
's Character, and Relation to the
Staffs.
59
Grogram
Petitions for Interrment. 344
Gunner and Gunster distinguish'd. 241
Gunsters, their Character. 243
H.
Hall
(Serjeant), his Letter. 236
— Criticisms thereupon. 237
Hamlet
's Exclamation on his Mother's hasty Marriage. 343
Hard Words exploded. 52
Heyday (Jack),
how reduced. 39
Hippocrates
's Generosity. 183
Honour described by a Passage out of the Dispensary. 339
Horror described by
Shakespear.
255
Humane Nature considered in its true Dignity. 234
Humphrey
('Squire), bubbled at
Bath.
99
I.
Jenny
disposed of for Life.
Page
164
— Her Conduct and Merit. 165,
&c.
— Her Husband's Character. 167
— The Effects of such a Match. 169
— An Account of the Marriage. 187
Jenny,
her Visit to Mr.
Bickerstaff,
and an Account of her Happiness with
Tranquillus.
330
Inconstancy described by
Hamlet.
343
K.
Knights of the Industry, their Designs on a young Heir. 153
Knockers, a new Invention,
&c.
340
L.
Labours for the Publick unsuccessful. 111
Ladies treated in an Organ-Left. 74
Lady's Love-Letter to
Bickerstaff.
213
— Advice to her thereupon. 215, 216
Landlord's Laconick Love-Letter. 159
Laughter, what, and when becoming. 87
Laura,
her Perfections and Character. 24, 25,
&c.
Learning only improves Nature. 54
Letter from the Country. 373
— Reflections thereupon, and on the Idle Hours of Great Men. 375
— The Letter answered. 377
Letters from a Quaker, Courtier and Citizen, about the Table of Fame. 181,
&c.
Letters should be the Growth of the Place. 268
— One of that Nature from Swisserland. 269
Libellers censured. 263
Lights enlarge the Thoughts.
Lillie (Charles)
recommended. 267
— His Present, and Licence.
Lillie,
a Catalogue of his Wares.
Page
316
Lisander
and
Coriana,
a married Couple, an Instance of their Decease. 28
Living Men, who. 286
Lorio
's Character. 257
Love between a married Couple illustrated. 280
Love complained of by
Diana Doubtful.
295
Love, its Effects and Cure. 345, 346
Love, its Remedy. 349
Love, Sentiments of it the same in all Ages. 251
Love-Letters before and after Marriage found in a Grave. 333
Love-Letters exploded. 215
— Answer to the Letter. 216
Lucretia,
why excluded the Table of Fame. 220
— Her Merit and Character.
ibid.
M.
Madonella
's Project. 89
Maria
asks Advice about her Marriage. 256
— Her Choice, distracted between a Man of Wealth and a Man of Merit. 257
Marinus
's Character. 69
Marlborough
(Duke of), his Merit. 95
Marriage, how Mens Minds and Humours may be changed thereby. 167
Marriages, why unhappy. 187
Verses on Marriage out of
Milton.
190
Marriage; two Ladies to prevent parting desire the same Man. 128
Martius
's Character. 52
Mathematical Sive to sift Impertinences in Writing and Discourse. 6
Maevius
's Opinion of his Works. 261
Mercer, that could not enjoy 1000
l. per Ann.
106
Merit obscure, to be produced to the publick View, by Mr.
Bickerstaff. Page
221
— Description of it, by
Milton.
386
Miner,
what. 241
Mirrour (Tom),
his Character. 3
— How received by different Persons. 5
Modest Man and modest Fellow, how distinguished. 14
Modesty described. 11
— How different in Men and Women.
Ibid.
Modesty, its Charms in Ladies. 219
— Its Advantages in Men. 233
Monoculus
's Character. 38
Monoculus
's Letter to
Bickerstaff.
151
— Answer'd. 152
Mons
invested. 82, 175
— Taken. 217
Myrmidons, their History.
N.
Nestor
's Character and Merit. 12
News, Old People die in
France.
41
Nonsence, its Prevalence among Ladies. 64
No; when to be used by young People. 217
O.
Orlando
's History continued. 1
— His Way of contemning the World. 2
Orson Thickett
's Character. 297
— His Passion for
Cleora. Ibid.
Osmyn
's Character. 15
— His Behaviour to his Wife. 16,
&c.
P.
Paetus.
The Manner of his Death. 146
Panegyrick:
Bickerstaff
's Theme for the
Tatlers. Page
146
Panegyrick upon
Bickerstaff
for confessing his Faults. 88
Partridge
's Funeral. 305
Partridge
's Manner of surprizing Sharpers. 41
Penny-Post Letters sent as private Reprimands. 114
Perhaps, when introduced in all Discourses, a Sign of Decay of Affection. 17
Petition not to proceed upon them, by one that hath invented Round Chairs, Coaches, and other Conveniences,
&c.
381
Petticoats censured. 367
Physicians ordered to return from
Bath.
180
Pirates complained of and censured. 313, 314,
&c.
Playhouse, one only ought to be supported. 302
Pleasure, its Recommendations. 292
Poetaster's Catalogue of his Labours. 341
Poetasters ridiculed.
Ibid.
Poetry, the Efficacy of it on the Minds of its Readers. 298
Poetry, Sir
Francis Bacon
's Account of it. 355
Posture-Master censured. 352
Powel;
an Excuse for writing against him. 5
Praise and Blame to be regarded only as relating to Things strictly true. 265
Praise, how coveted by great Men. 266
Propriety of Words and Thoughts explain'd. 78
Q.
Quarrel between Mrs.
Jenny
and her Husband. 223
— How prevented, and
Bickerstaff
's Advice thereupon. 224, 225, 226
Queen, an Eulogium on her Government. 256
R.
Raffling-shop kept at
Hampstead,
by
Hawksly
a Lawyer. 55
Rape, the Trial most attended by Women.
Page
Remarks of some Readers on the Table of Fame
Ridicule, how to be used.
Rochefaucault
's Writings censured.
Rosin
the Fiddler; History of his Life, with hi
Wife. 336, 337
— Her Stratagem to prevent her Gallant's Marriage. 337
Round-Stool, a Gentleman affronted by being placed upon it. 192
S.
Satyr, how useful. 70
Satyrists censured. 353
Satyrists
(French)
censured.
ibid.
Scipio
's generous Treatment of a Captive Lady. 50
Serpent.
242
Sharpers represented by a Pack of Dogs. 55
Sharpers, their Character. 36
— Reception. 37
Sharpers, their Practices at
Bath.
99
Signs of Coxcombs. 288
Smyrna
Coffee-house recommended for Musick, Poetry, and Politicks. 184
Snap-Dragon illustrated. 225
Socrates
's Allegory of the Origine of Love. 253
Speech in its greatest Perfection in an accomplish'd Woman. 79
Spleen cured. 194
Squib.
242
Stentor
reproved. 26
— Complaints of the Injury done by his Bawling. 27, 28
— Admonish'd by one of St.
Peter's.
71
Strephon
's Manner of winning a Lady. 65
Successes of the Tatler at
Oxford.
145
Sweden
(the King of), his Defeat. 33, 54
T.
Theatrical Representations useful.
Page
301
Tournay,
the Besiegers Bravery. 60
— Its Surrender. 82
Tragical Relations. 208, 210
Transitions in Writing,
&c.
illustrated. 117
Travelling discussed. 270
— How useless to many.
Ibid.
Tristram,
(Sir), his Character. 45
Triumphs, how abused by the Haughtiness of the
Romans,
with Regard to the Captives. 84
Trubies,
their Character. 88
V.
Vafer,
a Bubble, his Speech on Sharpers. 38
Varillus
's Character. 13
Victory of
Blaregnies,
the Truth of it questioned. 97
— The Glories of it described. 98
Virtue, its Recommendations. 293
Vision of Justice. 306
Vision of Justice continued. 318
Visiting, the Attendance of Ladies exposed. 355
Visits, a Day-Book kept of them. 360
Visits ridiculed and censured. 358, 361
Visits unseasonable, when. 249
Upholders permitted to bury their Dead. 304
Vulgar, who. 126
W.
Walter Wisdom
's Character. 297
— His Pretensions to
Cleora. Ibid.
War-Horse to be let. 75
Weeping, its Causes. 121
Wildair
's Character, and how reformed by the Generosity of his Father.
Page
William
(King), an Eulogium on him.
Window-Breakers with Halfpence.
Wit and Breeding local.
Wit, judged by Men's Purses.
Women, their Want of a regular Education.
— Compared with those of the last Age.
Ibid.
FINIS.