In the highlands of Scotland, when a benighted traveller knocks at a
cottage door, and is denied admittance by a female voice, he never
dreams of grumbling at the refusal, if the Caledonian dame subjoin, in
her country’s phrase, that she is a _lone_ woman. Should some carping
critic look through my lattice, and censure me for sameness of
sentiment, or barrenness of fancy, I would reply, in an accent of
deprecation--Mr. Zoilus, I am a _lone author_. In the periodical
publications of Great Britain, the papers are usually furnished by the
members of a literary society, who assemble at some coffee-house or
tavern, and club their genius to amuse the public, as they club their
cash to discharge their reckoning. Those speculations, which have
improved, and have gladdened life, were rarely the fruit of a single
brain, but the offspring of wit in conjunction. The union of abilities
is almost as essential to the perfection of a miscellany, as the union
of sexes to the formation of our being. Both Genius and Dullness are
prone to court alliances.--Beaumont and Fletcher, composed comedies in
company; and Sternhold, when he undertook a translation of David’s
psalms, employed Hopkins to _eke_ out his metre. Relying on his native
strength, Dr. Johnson composed a series of lucubrations himself; but who
is endowed with the comprehensive mind of the author of the Rambler?
Like a poor man loaded with a _fardel_ of debt, common writers are glad
to borrow. Cursed occasionally with a penury of thought, and most
willing to pay my _public debt_, I solicit a hint from one, a sentiment
from another, and a subject from a third. Conscious of imbecility,
I dread stumbling in my _solitary_ walk, and timidity warns me to lean,
sometimes on the staff of quotation, and sometimes, to employ a guide.
My acquaintance, Adage, who loves sentences short and pithy, like
himself, and who has read with diligence, and who admires with judgment,
the PROMPTER, requests me to compose an essay in his laconic style. No,
I replied, he has exhausted _Franklinisms_, he has commented upon almost
every common saying in the popular mouth. Your reasons, Adage rejoined,
are like Gratiano’s in the Merchant of Venice; they are two grains of
wheat, hid in two bushels of chaff, you shall search all day ere you
find them, and when found, they are not worth the search. Be it my task
to furnish a _subject_, to take the pen and write quickly be thine. My
neighbour Crispin, quoth Adage, contracted last week with a countryman
for cheese. It was damaged; Crispin gives five pence per lb. and
promises to pay in leather. I thought he was over-reached; but, when the
cheese-monger had departed, Crispin laughingly cries, “if his cheese is
mouldy, my leather is unmerchantable, and _two cheats make an even
bargain_.” As the PROMPTER, continued Adage, never preached a sermon
from that text, and as, to continue the allusion, the bishop is
slumbering in his stall, do you become his chaplain, and ascend the
pulpit yourself.
Reflecting on my friends advice, I quickly perceived that this _even_
bargain was concluded by many characters besides _professional_ cheats.
An old London magazine, which I read many years ago, and which memory
just handed me, offers the first example.
A brocaded Italian Count had an amour with Lady Ligonier. Every body
bewailed the fate of her unhappy husband; but every body did not know
that his wretchedness was alleviated in the arms of a courtezan. Every
body did not know, that these two right honourable cheats made an even
bargain.
A clown solicits an attorney to prosecute an obsolete claim against
neighbour Clodpole; the limb of the law knows that the claim of his
client is as lame, as _his_ hobbling justice, he tells him nevertheless
that he will _recover_, and anticipates a heavy bill of cost. He does
his dirty work, and the plaintiff is nonsuited, who emigrates to
_Genesee_, and forgets to pay the advocate his fees. Don’t fret, Mr.
Greenbag, keep yourself cool, you have another cause to argue, another
false title to set up which will demand the calmness and intrepidity of
falsehood. Don’t damn your absconded client. The balance of deception
was in equilibrio between you. _Two cheats make an even bargain._
A spruce stripling of sixteen, courts an old beldame of sixty. He thinks
her rich, and hopes that her gold will enable him to buy at the female
flesh market of beauty a more _juicy rib_. She, relying on the
bridegroom’s vigour, dreams of the _comforts_ of matrimony, and
forthwith pronounces--I obey, before the Parson. But alas! the bride’s
purse is _coinless_, and the fond bridegroom chooses to _consummate_
elsewhere. I advise the husband when in consequence of his wife’s
fortune, he keeps a coach, to choose for a motto, two cheats make an
even bargain.
Last week, I wrote at length, and like Dogberry, in Shakespeare,
bestowed all my tediousness upon my readers. I will make atonement. The
PROMPTER is laconic, and Adage hates prolixity.
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