I have this morning received the following letter from the famous Mr.
Thomas Doggett:[26]
"SIR,
"On Monday next will be acted for my benefit, the comedy of 'Love
for Love': if you will do me the honour to appear there, I will
publish on the bills, that it is to be performed at the request of
Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.; and question not but it will bring me as
great an audience, as ever was at the house since the Morocco
ambassador was there.[27] I am, (with the greatest respect)
"Your most obedient and
"Most humble Servant,
"THOMAS DOGGETT."
Being naturally an encourager of wit, as well as bound to it in the
quality of censor, I returned the following answer:
"MR. DOGGETT,
"I am very well pleased with the choice you have made of so
excellent a play, and have always looked upon you as the best of
comedians; I shall therefore come in between the first and second
act, and remain in the right-hand box over the pit till the end of
the fourth, provided you take care that everything be rightly
prepared for my reception."[28]
[Footnote 26: See No. 1.]
[Footnote 27: The Morocco ambassador made his public entry into London
in April 1706. Don Venturo Zary, another Morocco minister, visited the
Haymarket Theatre on May 4, 1710, with his "attendants in their several
habits, &c., having never as yet appeared in public." There was no play
at Drury Lane Theatre that night (_Postboy_, April 29 to May 2, 1710).]
[Footnote 28: See No. 122.]
No. 121. [ADDISON.
From _Saturday, Jan. 14_, to _Tuesday, Jan. 17, 1709-10_.
----Similis tibi, Cynthia, vel tibi, cujus
Turbavit nitidos extinctus passer ocellos.
JUV., Sat. vi. 7.
* * * * *
_From my own Apartment, January 16._
I was recollecting the remainder of my vision, when my maid came to me,
and told me, there was a gentlewoman below who seemed to be in great
trouble, and pressed very much to see me. When it lay in my power to
remove the distress of an unhappy person, I thought I should very ill
employ my time in attending matters of speculation, and therefore
desired the lady would walk in. When she entered, I saw her eyes full of
tears. However, her grief was not so great as to make her omit rules;
for she was very long and exact in her civilities, which gave me time to
view and consider her. Her clothes were very rich, but tarnished; and
her words very fine, but ill applied. These distinctions made me without
hesitation (though I had never seen her before) ask her, if her lady had
any commands for me? She then began to weep afresh, and with many broken
sighs told me, that their family was in very great affliction. I
beseeched her to compose herself, for that I might possibly be capable
of assisting them. She then cast her eye upon my little dog, and was
again transported with too much passion to proceed; but with much ado,
she at last gave me to understand, that Cupid, her lady's lap-dog, was
dangerously ill, and in so bad a condition, that her lady neither saw
company, nor went abroad, for which reason she did not come herself to
consult me; that as I had mentioned with great affection my own dog
(here she curtsied, and looking first at the cur, and then on me, said,
indeed I had reason, for he was very pretty) her lady sent to me rather
than to any other doctor, and hoped I would not laugh at her sorrow, but
send her my advice. I must confess, I had some indignation to find
myself treated like something below a farrier; yet well knowing, that
the best, as well as most tender way of dealing with a woman, is to fall
in with her humours, and by that means to let her see the absurdity of
them, I proceeded accordingly: "Pray, madam," said I, "can you give me
any methodical account of this illness, and how Cupid was first taken?"
"Sir," said she, "we have a little ignorant country girl who is kept to
tend him: she was recommended to our family by one, that my lady never
saw but once, at a visit; and you know, persons of quality are always
inclined to strangers; for I could have helped her to a cousin of my
own, but----" "Good madam," said I, "you neglect the account of the sick
body, while you are complaining of this girl." "No, no, sir," said she,
"begging your pardon: but it is the general fault of physicians, they
are so in haste, that they never hear out the case. I say, this silly
girl, after washing Cupid, let him stand half an hour in the window
without his collar, where he caught cold, and in an hour after began to
bark very hoarse. He had however a pretty good night, and we hoped the
danger was over; but for these two nights last past, neither he nor my
lady have slept a wink." "Has he," said I, "taken anything?" "No," said
she, "but my lady says, he shall take anything that you prescribe,
provided you do not make use of Jesuits' powder[29], or the cold bath.
Poor Cupid," continued she, "has always been phthisical, and as he lies
under something like a chin-cough, we are afraid it will end in a
consumption." I then asked her, if she had brought any of his water to
show me. Upon this, she stared me in the face, and said, "I am afraid,
Mr. Bickerstaff, you are not serious; but if you have any receipt that
is proper on this occasion, pray let us have it; for my mistress is not
to be comforted." Upon this, I paused a little without returning any
answer, and after some short silence, I proceeded in the following
manner: "I have considered the nature of the distemper, and the
constitution of the patient, and by the best observation that I can make
on both, I think it is safest to put him into a course of kitchen
physic. In the meantime, to remove his hoarseness, it will be the most
natural way to make Cupid his own druggist; for which reason, I shall
prescribe to him, three mornings successively, as much powder as will
lie on a groat, of that noble remedy which the apothecaries call 'Album
Graecum.'" Upon hearing this advice, the young woman smiled, as if she
knew how ridiculous an errand she had been employed in; and indeed I
found by the sequel of her discourse, that she was an arch baggage, and
of a character that is frequent enough in persons of her employment, who
are so used to conform themselves in everything to the humours and
passions of their mistresses, that they sacrifice superiority of sense
to superiority of condition, and are insensibly betrayed into the
passions and prejudices of those whom they serve, without giving
themselves leave to consider, that they are extravagant and ridiculous.
However I thought it very natural, when her eyes were thus open, to see
her give a new turn to her discourse, and from sympathising with her
mistress in her follies, to fall a-railing at her. "You cannot imagine,"
said she, "Mr. Bickerstaff, what a life she makes us lead for the sake
of this little ugly cur: if he dies, we are the most unhappy family in
town. She chanced to lose a parrot last year, which, to tell you truly,
brought me into her service; for she turned off her woman upon it, who
had lived with her ten years, because she neglected to give him water,
though every one of the family says, she was as innocent of the bird's
death as the babe that is unborn. Nay, she told me this very morning,
that if Cupid should die, she would send the poor innocent wench I was
telling you of, to Bridewell, and have the milkwoman tried for her life
at the Old Bailey, for putting water into his milk. In short, she talks
like any distracted creature."
"Since it is so, young woman," said I, "I will by no means let you
offend her, by staying on this message longer than is absolutely
necessary," and so forced her out.
While I am studying to cure those evils and distresses that are
necessary or natural to human life, I find my task growing upon me,
since by these accidental cares, and acquired calamities, if I may so
call them, my patients contract distempers to which their constitution
is of itself a stranger. But this is an evil I have for many years
remarked in the fair sex; and as they are by nature very much formed for
affection and dalliance, I have observed, that when by too obstinate a
cruelty, or any other means, they have disappointed themselves of the
proper objects of love, as husbands, or children, such virgins have
exactly at such a year grown fond of lap-dogs, parrots, or other
animals. I know at this time a celebrated toast, whom I allow to be one
of the most agreeable of her sex, that in the presence of her admirers,
will give a torrent of kisses to her cat, any one of which a Christian
would be glad of. I do not at the same time deny, but there are as great
enormities of this kind committed by our sex as theirs. A Roman emperor
had so very great an esteem for a horse of his, that he had thoughts of
making him a consul; and several moderns of that rank of men whom we
call country squires, won't scruple to kiss their hounds before all the
world, and declare in the presence of their wives, that they had rather
salute a favourite of the pack, than the finest woman in England. These
voluntary friendships between animals of different species, seem to
arise from instinct; for which reason, I have always looked upon the
mutual goodwill between the squire and the hound, to be of the same
nature with that between the lion and the jackal.
The only extravagance of this kind which appears to me excusable, is one
that grew out of an excess of gratitude, which I have somewhere met with
in the life of a Turkish emperor. His horse had brought him safe out of
a field of battle, and from the pursuit of a victorious enemy. As a
reward for such his good and faithful service, his master built him a
stable of marble, shod him with gold, fed him in an ivory manger, and
made him a rack of silver. He annexed to the stable several fields and
meadows, lakes, and running streams. At the same time he provided for
him a seraglio of mares, the most beautiful that could be found in the
whole Ottoman Empire. To these were added a suitable train of domestics,
consisting of grooms, farriers, rubbers, &c., accommodated with proper
liveries and pensions. In short, nothing was omitted that could
contribute to the ease and happiness of his life who had preserved the
emperor's.
* * * * *
By reason of the extreme cold, and the changeableness of the weather, I
have been prevailed upon to allow the free use of the farthingale, till
the 20th of February next ensuing.
[Footnote 29: Peruvian Bark, then comparatively little used.]
No. 122. [ADDISON.
From _Tuesday, Jan. 17_, to _Thursday, Jan. 19, 1709-10_.
Cur in theatrum, Cato severe, venisti?
MART., Epig. i. Prol. 21.
* * * * *
_From my own Apartment, January 18._
I find it is thought necessary, that I (who have taken upon me to
censure the irregularities of the age) should give an account of my own
actions when they appear doubtful, or subject to misconstruction. My
appearing at the play on Monday last,[30] is looked upon as a step in my
conduct, which I ought to explain, that others may not be misled by my
example. It is true in matter of fact, I was present at the ingenious
entertainment of that day, and placed myself in a box which was prepared
for me with great civility and distinction. It is said of Virgil, when
he entered a Roman theatre, where there were many thousands of
spectators present, that the whole assembly rose up to do him honour; a
respect which was never before paid to any but the emperor. I must
confess, that universal clap, and other testimonies of applause, with
which I was received at my first appearance in the theatre of Great
Britain, gave me as sensible a delight, as the above-mentioned reception
could give to that immortal poet. I should be ungrateful at the same
time, if I did not take this opportunity of acknowledging the great
civilities that were shown me by Mr. Thomas Doggett, who made his
compliments to me between the acts, after a most ingenuous and discreet
manner; and at the same time communicated to me, that the Company of
Upholders desired to receive me at their door at the end of the
Haymarket, and to light me home to my lodgings. That part of the
ceremony I forbad, and took particular care during the whole play to
observe the conduct of the drama, and give no offence by my own
behaviour. Here I think it will not be foreign to my character, to lay
down the proper duties of an audience, and what is incumbent upon each
individual spectator in public diversions of this nature. Every one
should on these occasions show his attention, understanding and virtue.
I would undertake to find out all the persons of sense and breeding by
the effect of a single sentence, and to distinguish a gentleman as much
by his laugh, as his bow. When we see the footman and his lord diverted
by the same jest, it very much turns to the diminution of the one, or
the honour of the other. But though a man's quality may appear in his
understanding and taste, the regard to virtue ought to be the same in
all ranks and conditions of men, however they make a profession of it
under the name of honour, religion, or morality. When therefore we see
anything divert an audience, either in tragedy or comedy, that strikes
at the duties of civil life, or exposes what the best men in all ages
have looked upon as sacred and inviolable, it is the certain sign of a
profligate race of men, who are fallen from the virtue of their
forefathers, and will be contemptible in the eyes of their posterity.
For this reason I took great delight in seeing the generous and
disinterested passion of the lovers in this comedy (which stood so many
trials, and was proved by such a variety of diverting incidents)
received with an universal approbation. This brings to my mind a passage
in Cicero,[31] which I could never read without being in love with the
virtue of a Roman audience. He there describes the shouts and applause
which the people gave to the persons who acted the parts of Pylades and
Orestes, in the noblest occasion that a poet could invent to show
friendship in perfection. One of them had forfeited his life by an
action which he had committed; and as they stood in judgment before the
tyrant, each of them strove who should be the criminal, that he might
save the life of his friend. Amidst the vehemence of each asserting
himself to be the offender, the Roman audience gave a thunder of
applause, and by that means, as the author hints, approved in others
what they would have done themselves on the like occasion. Methinks, a
people of so much virtue were deservedly placed at the head of mankind:
But alas! pleasures of this nature are not frequently to be met with on
the English stage.
The Athenians, at a time when they were the most polite, as well as the
most powerful, government in the world, made the care of the stage one
of the chief parts of the administration: and I must confess, I am
astonished at the spirit of virtue which appeared in that people upon
some expressions in a scene of a famous tragedy; an account of which we
have in one of Seneca's epistles.[32] A covetous person is represented
speaking the common sentiments of all who are possessed with that vice
in the following soliloquy, which I have translated literally:
"Let me be called a base man, so I am called a rich one. If a man is
rich, who asks if he is good? The question is, How much we have;
not from whence, or by what means, we have it. Every one has so
much merit as he has wealth. For my own part, let me be rich, O ye
gods! or let me die. The man dies happily, who dies increasing his
treasure. There is more pleasure in the possession of wealth, than
in that of parents, children, wife, or friends."
The audience were very much provoked by the first words of this speech;
but when the actor came to the close of it, they could bear no longer.
In short, the whole assembly rose up at once in the greatest fury, with
a design to pluck him off the stage, and brand the work itself with
infamy. In the midst of the tumult, the author came out from behind the
scenes, begging the audience to be composed for a little while, and they
should see the tragical end which this wretch should come to
immediately. The promise of punishment appeased the people, who sat with
great attention and pleasure to see an example made of so odious a
criminal. It is with shame and concern that I speak it; but I very much
question, whether it is possible to make a speech so impious, as to
raise such a laudable horror and indignation in a modern audience. It is
very natural for an author to make ostentation of his reading, as it is
for an old man to tell stories; for which reason I must beg the reader
will excuse me, if I for once indulge myself in both these inclinations.
We see the attention, judgment, and virtue of a whole audience, in the
foregoing instances. If we would imitate the behaviour of a single
spectator, let us reflect upon that of Socrates, in a particular which
gives me as great an idea of that extraordinary man, as any circumstance
of his life; or what is more, of his death. This venerable person often
frequented the theatre, which brought a great many thither, out of a
desire to see him; on which occasions it is recorded of him, that he
sometimes stood to make himself the more conspicuous, and to satisfy the
curiosity of the beholders. He was one day present at the first
representation of a tragedy of Euripides, who was his intimate friend,
and whom he is said to have assisted in several of his plays. In the
midst of the tragedy, which had met with very great success, there
chanced to be a line that seemed to encourage vice and immorality.
This was no sooner spoken, but Socrates rose from his seat, and without
any regard to his affection for his friend, or to the success of the
play, showed himself displeased at what was said, and walked out of the
assembly. I question not but the reader will be curious to know what the
line was that gave this divine heathen so much offence. If my memory
fails me not, it was in the part of Hippolitus, who when he is pressed
by an oath, which he had taken to keep silence, returned for answer,
that he had taken the oath with his tongue, but not with his heart. Had
a person of a vicious character made such a speech, it might have been
allowed as a proper representation of the baseness of his thoughts: but
such an expression out of the mouth of the virtuous Hippolitus, was
giving a sanction to falsehood, and establishing perjury by a maxim.
Having got over all interruptions, I have set apart tomorrow for the
closing of my vision.[33]
[Footnote 30: See No. 120. "A person dressed for Isaac Bickerstaff did
appear at the playhouse on this occasion" (Addison's "Works,"
Birmingham, ii. 246).]
[Footnote 31: "De Amicitia," vii.]
[Footnote 32: L. A. Senecae Opera, Lips., 1741, ii. 520.]
[Footnote 33: See Nos. 120, 123.]
No. 123. [ADDISON.
From _Thursday, Jan. 19_, to _Saturday, Jan. 21, 1709-10_.
Audire, atque togam jubeo componere, quisquis
Ambitione mala, aut argenti pallet amore.
HOR., 2 Sat. iii. 77.
* * * * *
_From my own Apartment, January 20._
_A Continuation of the Vision._[34]
With much labour and difficulty I passed through the first part of my
vision, and recovered the centre of the wood, from whence I had the
prospect of the three great roads. I here joined myself to the
middle-aged party of mankind, who marched behind the standard of
Ambition. The great road lay in a direct line, and was terminated by the
Temple of Virtue. It was planted on each side with laurels, which were
intermixed with marble trophies, carved pillars, and statues of
lawgivers, heroes, statesmen, philosophers, and poets. The persons who
travelled up this great path, were such whose thoughts were bent upon
doing eminent services to mankind, or promoting the good of their
country. On each side of this great road were several paths, that were
also laid out in straight lines, and ran parallel with it. These were
most of them covered walks, and received into them men of retired
virtue, who proposed to themselves the same end of their journey, though
they chose to make it in shade and obscurity. The edifices at the
extremity of the walk were so contrived, that we could not see the
Temple of Honour by reason of the Temple of Virtue, which stood before
it. At the gates of this temple we were met by the goddess of it, who
conducted us into that of Honour, which was joined to the other edifice
by a beautiful triumphal arch, and had no other entrance into it. When
the deity of the inner structure had received us, she presented us in a
body to a figure that was placed over the high altar, and was the emblem
of eternity. She sat on a globe in the midst of a golden zodiac, holding
the figure of a sun in one hand, and a moon in the other. Her head was
veiled, and her feet covered. Our hearts glowed within us as we stood
amidst the sphere of light which this image cast on every side of it.
Having seen all that happened to this band of adventurers, I repaired to
another pile of buildings that stood within view of the Temple of
Honour, and was raised in imitation of it, upon the very same model; but
at my approach to it, I found that the stones were laid together without
mortar, and that the whole fabric stood upon so weak a foundation, that
it shook with every wind that blew. This was called the Temple of
Vanity. The goddess of it sat in the midst of a great many tapers, that
burned day and night, and made her appear much better than she would
have done in open daylight. Her whole art was to show herself more
beautiful and majestic than she really was. For which reason, she had
painted her face, and wore a cluster of false jewels upon her breast:
but what I more particularly observed, was, the breadth of her
petticoat, which was made altogether in the fashion of a modern
farthingale. This place was filled with hypocrites, pedants,
freethinkers, and prating politicians; with a rabble of those who have
only titles to make them great men. Female votaries crowded the temple,
choked up the avenues of it, and were more in number than the sand upon
the seashore. I made it my business in my return towards that part of
the wood from whence I first set out, to observe the walks which led to
this temple; for I met in it several who had begun their journey with
the band of virtuous persons, and travelled some time in their company:
but upon examination I found, that there were several paths which led
out of the great road into the sides of the wood, and ran into so many
crooked turns and windings, that those who travelled through them often
turned their backs upon the Temple of Virtue, then crossed the straight
road, and sometimes marched in it for a little space, till the crooked
path which they were engaged in again led them into the wood. The
several alleys of these wanderers had their particular ornaments: one of
them I could not but take notice of, in the walk of the mischievous
pretenders to politics, which had at every turn the figure of a person,
whom by the inscription I found to be Machiavel, pointing out the way
with an extended finger like a Mercury.
I was now returned in the same manner as before, with a design to
observe carefully everything that passed in the region of Avarice, and
the occurrences in that assembly, which was made up of persons of my own
age. This body of travellers had not gone far in the third great road,
before it led them insensibly into a deep valley, in which they
journeyed several days with great toil and uneasiness, and without the
necessary refreshments of food and sleep. The only relief they met with,
was in a river that ran through the bottom of the valley on a bed of
golden sand: they often drank of this stream, which had such a
particular quality in it, that though it refreshed them for a time, it
rather inflamed than quenched their thirst. On each side of the river
was a range of hills full of precious ore; for where the rains had
washed off the earth, one might see in several parts of them long veins
of gold, and rocks that looked like pure silver. We were told that the
deity of the place had forbade any of his votaries to dig into the
bowels of these hills, or convert the treasures they contained to any
use, under pain of starving. At the end of the valley stood the Temple
of Avarice, made after the manner of a fortification, and surrounded
with a thousand triple-headed dogs, that were placed there to keep off
beggars. At our approach they all fell a-barking, and would have very
much terrified us, had not an old woman who had called herself by the
forged name of Competency offered herself for our guide. She carried
under her garment a golden bow, which she no sooner held up in her hand,
but the dogs lay down, and the gates flew open for our reception. We
were led through a hundred iron doors, before we entered the temple. At
the upper end of it sat the god of Avarice, with a long filthy beard,
and a meagre starved countenance, enclosed with heaps of ingots and
pyramids of money, but half naked and shivering with cold. On his right
hand was a fiend called Rapine, and on his left a particular favourite
to whom he had given the title of Parsimony. The first was his
collector, and the other his cashier.
There were several long tables placed on each side of the temple, with
respective officers attending behind them. Some of these I inquired
into. At the first table was kept the office of Corruption. Seeing a
solicitor extremely busy, and whispering everybody that passed by, I
kept my eye upon him very attentively, and saw him often going up to a
person that had a pen in his hand, with a multiplication table and an
almanac before him, which as I afterwards heard, was all the learning he
was master of. The solicitor would often apply himself to his ear, and
at the same time convey money into his hand, for which the other would
give him out a piece of paper or parchment, signed and sealed in form.
The name of this dexterous and successful solicitor was Bribery. At the
next table was the office of Extortion. Behind it sat a person in a
bob-wig, counting over a great sum of money. He gave out little purses
to several, who after a short tour brought him, in return, sacks full of
the same kind of coin. I saw at the same time a person called Fraud, who
sat behind a counter with false scales, light weights, and scanty
measures; by the skilful application of which instruments, she had got
together an immense heap of wealth. It would be endless to name the
several officers, or describe the votaries that attended in this temple.
There were many old men panting and breathless, reposing their heads on
bags of money; nay many of them actually dying, whose very pangs and
convulsions, which rendered their purses useless to them, only made them
grasp them the faster. There were some tearing with one hand all things,
even to the garments and flesh of many miserable persons who stood
before them, and with the other hand, throwing away what they had
seized, to harlots, flatterers, and panders, that stood behind them.
On a sudden the whole assembly fell a-trembling, and upon inquiry, I
found, that the great room we were in was haunted with a spectre, that
many times a day appeared to them, and terrified them to distraction.
In the midst of their terror and amazement the apparition entered, which
I immediately knew to be Poverty. Whether it were by my acquaintance
with this phantom, which had rendered the sight of her more familiar to
me, or however it was, she did not make so indigent or frightful a
figure in my eye, as the god of this loathsome temple. The miserable
votaries of this place, were, I found, of another mind. Every one
fancied himself threatened by the apparition as she stalked about the
room, and began to lock their coffers, and tie their bags, with the
utmost fear and trembling.
I must confess, I look upon the passion which I saw in this unhappy
people to be of the same nature with those unaccountable antipathies
which some persons are born with, or rather as a kind of frenzy, not
unlike that which throws a man into terrors and agonies at the sight of
so useful and innocent a thing as water. The whole assembly was
surprised, when, instead of paying my devotions to the deity whom they
all adored, they saw me address myself to the phantom.
"O Poverty!" said I, "my first petition to thee is, that thou
wouldst never appear to me hereafter; but if thou wilt not grant me
this, that thou wouldst not bear a form more terrible than that in
which thou appearest to me at present. Let not thy threats and
menaces betray me to anything that is ungrateful or unjust. Let me
not shut my ears to the cries of the needy. Let me not forget the
person that has deserved well of me. Let me not, for any fear of
thee, desert my friend, my principles, or my honour. If Wealth is
to visit me, and to come with her usual attendants, Vanity and
Avarice, do thou, O Poverty! hasten to my rescue; but bring along
with thee the two sisters, in whose company thou art always
cheerful, Liberty and Innocence."
The conclusion of this vision must be deferred to another opportunity.
[Footnote 34: See No. 120.]
No. 124. [STEELE.
From _Saturday, Jan. 21_, to _Tuesday, Jan. 24, 1709-10_.
----Ex humili summa ad fastigia rerum
Extollit, quoties voluit Fortuna jocari.
JUV., Sat. iii. 39.
* * * * *
_From my own Apartment, January 23._
I went on Saturday last to make a visit in the city; and as I passed
through Cheapside, I saw crowds of people turning down towards the Bank,
and struggling who should first get their money into the new-erected
lottery.[35] It gave me a great notion of the credit of our present
government and administration, to find people press as eagerly to pay
money, as they would to receive it; and at the same time a due respect
for that body of men who have found out so pleasing an expedient for
carrying on the common cause, that they have turned a tax into a
diversion. The cheerfulness of spirit, and the hopes of success, which
this project has occasioned in this great city, lightens the burden of
the war, and puts me in mind of some games which they say were invented
by wise men who were lovers of their country, to make their fellow
citizens undergo the tediousness and fatigues of a long siege. I think
there is a kind of homage due to fortune (if I may call it so), and that
I should be wanting to myself if I did not lay in my pretences to her
favour, and pay my compliments to her by recommending a ticket to her
disposal. For this reason, upon my return to my lodgings, I sold off a
couple of globes and a telescope,[36] which, with the cash I had by me,
raised the sum that was requisite for that purpose. I find by my
calculations, that it is but a hundred and fifty thousand to one against
my being worth a thousand pounds per annum for thirty-two years;[37] and
if any plum[38] in the City will lay me a hundred and fifty thousand
pounds to twenty shillings (which is an even bet), that I am not this
fortunate man, I will take the wager, and shall look upon him as a man
of singular courage and fair-dealing, having given orders to Mr. Morphew
to subscribe such a policy in my behalf, if any person accepts of the
offer. I must confess, I have had such private intimations from the
twinkling of a certain star in some of my astronomical observations,
that I should be unwilling to take fifty pounds a year for my chance,
unless it were to oblige a particular friend. My chief business at
present is, to prepare my mind for this change of fortune: for as
Seneca, who was a great moralist, and a much richer man than I shall be
with this addition to my present income, says, "_Munera ista Fortunae
putatis? Insidiae sunt._"[39] "What we look upon as gifts and presents of
Fortune, are traps and snares which she lays for the unwary." I am
arming myself against her favours with all my philosophy; and that I may
not lose myself in such a redundance of unnecessary and superfluous
wealth, I have determined to settle an annual pension out of it upon a
family of Palatines, and by that means give these unhappy strangers a
taste of British property. At the same time, as I have an excellent
servant-maid, whose diligence in attending me has increased in
proportion to my infirmities, I shall settle upon her the revenue
arising out of the ten pounds, and amounting to fourteen shillings per
annum, with which she may retire into Wales, where she was born a
gentlewoman, and pass the remaining part of her days in a condition
suitable to her birth and quality. It was impossible for me to make an
inspection into my own fortune on this occasion, without seeing at the
same time the fate of others who are embarked in the same adventure. And
indeed it was a great pleasure to me to observe, that the war, which
generally impoverishes those who furnish out the expense of it, will by
this means give estates to some, without making others the poorer for
it. I have lately seen several in liveries, who will give as good of
their own very suddenly; and took a particular satisfaction in the sight
of a young country wench, whom I this morning passed by as she was
whirling her mop,[40] with her petticoats tucked up very agreeably, who,
if there is any truth in my art, is within ten[41] months of being the
handsomest great fortune in town. I must confess, I was so struck with
the foresight of what she is to be, that I treated her accordingly, and
said to her, "Pray, young lady, permit me to pass by." I would for this
reason advise all masters and mistresses to carry it with great
moderation and condescension towards their servants till next
Michaelmas, lest the superiority at that time should be inverted. I must
likewise admonish all my brethren and fellow adventurers, to fill their
minds with proper arguments for their support and consolation in case of
ill-success. It so happens in this particular, that though the gainers
will have reason to rejoice, the losers will have no reason to complain.
I remember, the day after the thousand pound prize was drawn in the
penny lottery,[42] I went to visit a splenetic acquaintance of mine, who
was under much dejection, and seemed to me to have suffered some great
disappointment. Upon inquiry, I found he had put twopence for himself
and his son into the lottery and that neither of them had drawn the
thousand pound. Hereupon this unlucky person took occasion to enumerate
the misfortunes of his life, and concluded with telling me, that he
never was successful in any of his undertakings. I was forced to comfort
him with the common reflection upon such occasions, that men of the
greatest merit are not always men of the greatest success, and that
persons of his character must not expect to be as happy as fools. I
shall proceed in the like manner with my rivals and competitors for the
thousand pounds a year which we are now in pursuit of; and that I may
give general content to the whole body of candidates, I shall allow all
that draw prizes to be fortunate, and all that miss them to be wise.
I must not here omit to acknowledge, that I have received several
letters upon this subject, but find one common error running through
them all, which is, that the writers of them believe their fate in these
cases depends upon the astrologer, and not upon the stars, as in the
following letter from one, who, I fear, flatters himself with hopes of
success, which are altogether groundless, since he does not seem to me
so great a fool as he takes himself to be:
"SIR,
"Coming to town, and finding my friend Mr. Partridge dead and
buried, and you the only conjurer in repute, I am under a necessity
of applying myself to you for a favour, which nevertheless I
confess it would better become a friend to ask, than one who is, as
I am altogether, a stranger to you; but poverty, you know, is
impudent; and as that gives me the occasion, so that alone could
give me the confidence to be thus importunate.
"I am, sir, very poor, and very desirous to be otherwise: I have
got ten pounds, which I design to venture in the lottery now on
foot. What I desire of you is, that by your art, you will choose
such a ticket for me as shall arise a benefit sufficient to
maintain me. I must beg leave to inform you, that I am good for
nothing, and must therefore insist upon a larger lot than would
satisfy those who are capable by their own abilities of adding
something to what you should assign them; whereas I must expect an
absolute, independent maintenance, because, as I said, I can do
nothing. 'Tis possible, after this free confession of mine, you may
think I don't deserve to be rich; but I hope you'll likewise
observe, I can ill afford to be poor. My own opinion is, I am well
qualified for an estate, and have a good title to luck in a
lottery; but I resign myself wholly to your mercy, not without
hopes that you will consider, the less I deserve, the greater the
generosity in you. If you reject me, I have agreed with an
acquaintance of mine to bury me for my ten pounds. I once more
recommend myself to your favour, and bid you adieu."
I cannot forbear publishing another letter which I have received,
because it redounds to my own credit, as well as to that of a very
honest footman:
"MR. BICKERSTAFF, _January 23, 1709/10._
"I am bound in justice to acquaint you, that I put an
advertisement[43] into your last paper about a watch which was
lost, and was brought to me on the very day your paper came out by
a footman, who told me, that he would [not] have brought it, if he
had not read your discourse of that day against avarice;[44] but
that since he had read it, he scorned to take a reward for doing
what in justice he ought to do. I am,
"Sir,
"Your most humble Servant,
"JOHN HAMMOND."
[Footnote 35: The first State lottery of 1710; see No. 87. Various
passages in the "Wentworth Papers" (pages 126, 127, 129, 130, 148, 165)
throw light upon this subject. Thus, "I hear the Million Lottery is
drawing and thear is a prise of 400_l._ a year drawn, and Col. St. Pear
has gott 5 (_sic_) a year; it will be hard fate if you mis a pryse that
put so much in. I long tel its all drawn; they say it will be six weeks
drawing" (Aug. 1, 1710). "It will be a long time first if ever, except I
win ye thoussand p^d a year, for mony now adays is the raening passion"
(July (?) 1710). "Some very ordenary creeture has gott 400_l._ a year"
(Aug. 4, 1710). "Thear is a lady gave her footman in the last before
this, mony for a lot, and he got five hundred a year, and she would have
half, and they had a law suit, but the lawyers gave it all to him" (Aug.
7, 1710). "Betty has lost all her hopse of the Lottery, als drawn now"
(Oct. 6, 1710). "You know your grandfather's Butler (?), they say he put
ten thousand pd in the lottry and lost it all, and is really worth forty
thousand pd" (Dec. 15, 1710). Swift refers to the drawing in September:
"To-day Mr. Addison, Colonel Freind and I went to see the million
lottery drawn at Guildhall. The jackanapes of blue-coat boys gave
themselves such airs in pulling out the tickets, and shewed white hands
open to the company to let us see there was no cheat" ("Journal to
Stella," Sept. 15, 1710). See also Nos. 170, 203, and the _Spectator_,
No. 191.]
[Footnote 36: See No. 128.]
[Footnote 37: "There were 150,000 tickets at L10 each, making
L1,500,000, the principal of which was to be sunk, and 9 per cent. to be
allowed on it for thirty-two years. Three thousand seven hundred and
fifty tickets were prizes from L1000 to L5 per annum; the rest were
blanks--a proportion of thirty-nine to one prize, but, as a consolation,
each blank was entitled to fourteen shillings per annum during the
thirty-two years" (Ashton's "Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne," i.
114).]
[Footnote 38: The possessor of a fortune of L100,000.]
[Footnote 39: L. A. Senecae Opera, Epist. viii. sect. 3 (Lips., Tauchn.,
1832, iii. 14).]
[Footnote 40: Cf. Swift's "City Shower," in No. 238: "She, singing,
still whirls on her mop."]
[Footnote 41: Cf. No. 128.]
[Footnote 42: This penny lottery seems to have been a private
undertaking, not warranted by Act of Parliament, or intended to raise
any part of the public revenue. In the year 1698, a "Penny Lottery" was
drawn at the theatre in Dorset Garden, as appears from the title of the
following pamphlet, apparently alluded to here: "The Wheel of Fortune:
or, Nothing for a Penny. Being remarks on the drawing of the Penny
Lottery at the Theatre Royal in Dorset Garden. With the characters of
some of the honourable trustees, and all due acknowledgment to his
Honour the Undertaker. Written by a person who was cursed mad that he
had not the Thousand Pounds Lot" (Nichols).]
[Footnote 43: The following was the advertisement: "A plain gold watch,
made by Tompion, with a gold hook and chain, a cornelian seal set in
gold, and a cupid sifting hearts, was dropt from a lady's side in or
near Great Marlborough Street on Thursday night last. Whoever took it
up, if they will bring it to Mr. Plaistow's, at the Hand and Star
between the two Temple Gates, in Fleet Street, shall receive five
guineas reward.--Signed JOHN HAMMOND."]
[Footnote 44: See No. 123.]
No. 125. [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, Jan. 24_, to _Thursday, Jan. 26, 1709-10_.
Quem mala stultitia, et quaecunque inscitia veri
Caecum agit, insanum Chrysippi porticus, et grex
Autumat. Haec populos, haec magnos formula reges,
Excepto sapiente, tenet.--HOR., 2 Sat. iii. 43.
* * * * *
_From my own Apartment, January 25._
There is a sect of ancient philosophers, who, I think, have left more
volumes behind them, and those better written, than any other of the
fraternities in philosophy. It was a maxim of this sect, that all those
who do not live up to the principles of reason and virtue, are madmen.
Every one, who governs himself by these rules, is allowed the title of
wise, and reputed to be in his senses; and every one in proportion, as
he deviates from them, is pronounced frantic and distracted. Cicero
having chosen this maxim for his theme, takes occasion to argue from it
very agreeably with Clodius, his implacable adversary, who had procured
his banishment. "A city," says he, "is an assembly distinguished into
bodies of men, who are in possession of their respective rights and
privileges, cast under proper subordinations, and in all its parts
obedient to the rules of law and equity." He then represents the
government from whence he was banished, at a time when the consul,
senate, and laws, had lost their authority, as a commonwealth of
lunatics. For this reason, he regards his expulsion from Rome, as a man
would being turned out of Bedlam, if the inhabitants of it should drive
him out of their walls as a person unfit for their community.[45] We are
therefore to look upon every man's brain to be touched, however he may
appear in the general conduct of his life, if he has an unjustifiable
singularity in any part of his conversation or behaviour: or if he
swerves from right reason, however common his kind of madness may be, we
shall not excuse him for its being epidemical, it being our present
design to clap up all such as have the marks of madness upon them, who
are now permitted to go about the streets, for no other reason, but
because they do no mischief in their fits. Abundance of imaginary great
men are put in straw to bring them to a right sense of themselves: and
is it not altogether as reasonable, that an insignificant man, who has
an immoderate opinion of his merits, and a quite different notion of his
own abilities from what the rest of the world entertain, should have the
same care taken of him, as a beggar who fancies himself a duke or a
prince? Or, why should a man, who starves in the midst of plenty, be
trusted with himself, more than he who fancies he is an emperor in the
midst of poverty? I have several women of quality in my thoughts, who
set so exorbitant a value upon themselves, that I have often most
heartily pitied them, and wished them, for their recovery, under the
same discipline with the pewterer's wife. I find by several hints in
ancient authors, that when the Romans were in the height of power and
luxury, they assigned out of their vast dominions, an island called
Anticyra, as an habitation for madmen. This was the Bedlam of the Roman
Empire, whither all persons who had left their wits used to resort from
all parts of the world in quest of them. Several of the Roman emperors
were advised to repair to this island; but most of them, instead of
listening to such sober counsels, gave way to their distraction, till
the people knocked them in the head as despairing of their cure. In
short, it was as usual for men of distempered brains to take a voyage to
Anticyra[46] in those days, as it is in ours for persons who have a
disorder in their lungs to go to Montpellier.
The prodigious crops of hellebore[47] with which this whole island
abounded, did not only furnish them with incomparable tea, snuff, and
Hungary water,[48] but impregnated the air of the country with such
sober and salutiferous streams, as very much comforted the heads, and
refreshed the senses, of all that breathed in it. A discarded statesman,
that at his first landing appeared stark staring mad, would become calm
in a week's time; and upon his return home, live easy and satisfied in
his retirement. A moping lover would grow a pleasant fellow by that time
he had ridden thrice about the island; and a hair-brained rake, after a
short stay in the country, go home again a composed, grave, worthy
gentleman.
I have premised these particulars before I enter on the main design of
this paper, because I would not be thought altogether notional[49] in
what I have to say, and pass only for a projector in morality. I could
quote Horace, and Seneca, and some other ancient writers of good repute,
upon the same occasion, and make out by their testimony, that our
streets are filled with distracted persons; that our shops and taverns,
private and public houses, swarm with them; and that it is very hard to
make up a tolerable assembly without a majority of them. But what I have
already said, is, I hope, sufficient to justify the ensuing project,
which I shall therefore give some account of without any further
preface.
1. It is humbly proposed, that a proper receptacle or habitation be
forthwith erected for all such persons as, upon due trial and
examination, shall appear to be out of their wits.
2. That to serve the present exigency, the College in
Moorfields[50] be very much extended at both ends; and that it be
converted into a square, by adding three other sides to it.
3. That nobody be admitted into these three additional sides, but
such whose frenzy can lay no claim to an apartment in that row of
building which is already erected.
4. That the architect, physician, apothecary, surgeon, keepers,
nurses, and porters, be all and each of them cracked, provided that
their frenzy does not lie in the profession or employment to which
they shall severally and respectively be assigned.
N.B. It is thought fit to give the foregoing notice, that none may
present himself here for any post of honour or profit who is not
duly qualified.
5. That over all the gates of the additional buildings, there be
figures placed in the same manner as over the entrance of the
edifice already erected;[51] provided, they represent such
distractions only as are proper for those additional buildings; as,
of an envious man gnawing his own flesh, a gamester pulling himself
by the ears, and knocking his head against a marble pillar, a
covetous man warming himself over a heap of gold, a coward flying
from his own shadow, and the like.
Having laid down this general scheme of my design, I do hereby invite
all persons who are willing to encourage so public-spirited a project,
to bring in their contributions as soon as possible, and to apprehend
forthwith any politician whom they shall catch raving in a coffee-house,
or any freethinker whom they shall find publishing his deliriums, or any
other person who shall give the like manifest signs of a crazed
imagination; and I do at the same time give this public notice to all
the madmen about this great city, that they may return to their senses
with all imaginable expedition, lest if they should come into my hands,
I should put them into a regimen which they would not like; for if I
find any one of them persist in his frantic behaviour, I will make him
in a month's time as famous as ever Oliver's porter[52] was.
[Footnote 45: Cicero, Tusc. Disp. iii. 4, &c.; Orat. pro Dom. 33, &c.]
[Footnote 46: Mr. Dobson quotes from Burton's "Anatomie of Melancholy"
(1628), p. 18: "I will evince it, that most men are mad, that they had
as much need to go a pilgrimage to the Anticyrae (as in Strabo's time
they did) as in our dayes they run to Compostella, our Lady of Sichim,
or Lauretta, to seeke for helpe; that it is likely to be as prosperous a
voyage as that of Guiana, and there is much more need of Hellebor than
of Tobacco."]
[Footnote 47: Hellebore was much used by the ancients as a cure for
madness and melancholy.]
[Footnote 48: The best Hungary water (a popular scent) was made of
spirits of wine, rosemary in bloom, lavender flowers, and oil of
rosemary.]
[Footnote 49: Dealing in ideas instead of realities.]
[Footnote 50: Bedlam; see No. 30.]
[Footnote 51: The statues by C. G. Cibber.]
[Footnote 52: See No. 51.]
No. 126. [STEELE.