condition, and take in marriage a virtuous young woman, who lived
with her in good reputation, and made her the father of a very pretty
girl. But this part of her happiness was soon after destroyed by a
distemper which was too hard for our physician, and carried off his
first wife. The doctor had not been a widow long before he married his
second lady, with whom also he lived in very good understanding. It
so happened that the doctor was with child at the same time that his
lady was; but the little ones coming both together, they passed for
twins. The doctor having entirely established the reputation of his
manhood, especially by the birth of the boy of whom he had been lately
delivered, and who very much resembles him, grew into good business,
and was particularly famous for the cure of venereal distempers; but
would have had much more practice among his own sex, had not some of
them been so unreasonable as to demand certain proofs of their cure,
which the doctor was not able to give them. The florid blooming look,
which gave the doctor some uneasiness at first, instead of betraying
his person, only recommended his physic. Upon this occasion I cannot
forbear mentioning what I thought a very agreeable surprise in one
of Molière's plays, where a young woman applies herself to a sick
person in the habit of a quack, and speaks to her patient, who was
something scandalised at the youth of his physician, to the following
purpose: 'I began to practise in the reign of Francis I., and am now
in the hundred-and-fiftieth year of my age; but, by the virtue of my
medicaments, have maintained myself in the same beauty and freshness I
had at fifteen.' For this reason Hippocrates lays it down as a rule,
that a student in physic should have a sound constitution and a healthy
look, which indeed seem as necessary qualifications for a physician as
a good life and virtuous behaviour for a divine. But to return to our
subject. About two years ago the doctor was very much afflicted with
the vapours, which grew upon him to such a degree, that about six weeks
since they made an end of him. His death discovered the disguise he had
acted under, and brought him back again to his former sex. 'Tis said,
that at his burial the pall was held up by six women of some fashion.
The doctor left behind him a widow and two fatherless children, if
they may be called so, besides the little boy before mentioned; in
relation to whom we may say of the doctor, as the good old ballad about
the 'Children in the Wood' says of the unnatural uncle, that he was
father and mother both in one. These are all the circumstances that I
could learn of Dr. Young's life, which might have given occasion to
many obscene fictions: but as I know those would never have gained a
place in your paper, I have not troubled you with any impertinence of
that nature; having stuck to the truth very scrupulously, as I always
do when I subscribe myself,
"Sir,
"Your, &c.
"I shall add, as a postscript to this letter, that I am informed, the
famous Saltero,[109] who sells coffee in his museum at Chelsea, has by
him a curiosity which helped the doctor to carry on his imposture, and
will give great satisfaction to the curious inquirer."
FOOTNOTES:
[107] See No. 14.
[108] The Physician was one of the usurping Kings of Brentford.
[109] See No. 34
=No. 227.= [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, Sept. 19_, to _Thursday, Sept. 21, 1710_.
Omnibus invideas, Zoile,[110] nemo tibi.--MARTIAL, Epig. i. 40.
_From my own Apartment, Sept. 20._
It is the business of reason and philosophy to soothe and allay the
passions of the mind, or turn them to a vigorous prosecution of what
is dictated by the understanding. In order to this good end, I would
keep a watchful eye upon the growing inclinations of youth, and be
particularly careful to prevent their indulging themselves in such
sentiments as may embitter their more advanced age. I have now under
cure a young gentleman, who lately communicated to me, that he was of
all men living the most miserably envious. I desired the circumstances
of his distemper; upon which, with a sigh that would have moved the
most inhuman breast: "Mr. Bickerstaff," said he, "I am nephew to a
gentleman of a very great estate, to whose favour I have a cousin that
has equal pretensions with myself. This kinsman of mine is a young
man of the highest merit imaginable, and has a mind so tender and so
generous, that I can observe he returns my envy with pity. He makes me
upon all occasions the most obliging condescensions: and I cannot but
take notice of the concern he is in to see my life blasted with this
racking passion, though it is against himself. In the presence of my
uncle, when I am in the room, he never speaks so well as he is capable
of, but always lowers his talents and accomplishments out of regard to
me. What I beg of you, dear sir, is to instruct me how to love him,
as I know he does me; and I beseech you, if possible, to set my heart
right, that it may no longer be tormented where it should be pleased,
or hate a man whom I cannot but approve."
The patient gave me this account with such candour and openness, that
I conceived immediate hopes of his cure; because in diseases of the
mind the person affected is half recovered when he is sensible of his
distemper. "Sir," said I, "the acknowledgment of your kinsman's merit
is a very hopeful symptom; for it is the nature of persons afflicted
with this evil, when they are incurable, to pretend a contempt of the
person envied, if they are taxed with that weakness. A man who is
really envious will not allow he is so; but upon such an accusation is
tormented with the reflection, that to envy a man is to allow him your
superior. But in your case, when you examine the bottom of your heart,
I am apt to think it is avarice which you mistake for envy. Were it not
that you have both expectations from the same man, you would look upon
your cousin's accomplishments with pleasure. You that now consider him
as an obstacle to your interest, would then behold him as an ornament
to your family." I observed my patient upon this occasion recover
himself in some measure; and he owned to me, that he hoped it was as
I imagined; for that in all places but where he was his rival, he had
pleasure in his company. This was the first discourse we had upon this
malady; and I do not doubt but, after two or three more, I shall by
just degrees soften his envy into emulation.
Such an envy as I have here described may possibly creep into an
ingenuous mind; but the envy which makes a man uneasy to himself and
others, is a certain distortion and perverseness of temper, that
renders him unwilling to be pleased with anything without him that
has either beauty or perfection in it. I look upon it as a distemper
in the mind (which I know no moralist that has described in this
light), when a man cannot discern anything which another is master
of that is agreeable. For which reason I look upon the good-natured
man to be endowed with a certain discerning faculty which the envious
are altogether deprived of. Shallow wits, superficial critics, and
conceited fops are with me so many blind men in respect of excellences.
They can behold nothing but faults and blemishes, and indeed see
nothing that is worth seeing. Show them a poem, it is stuff; a picture,
it is daubing. They find nothing in architecture that is not irregular,
or in music that is not out of tune. These men should consider, that
it is their envy which deforms everything, and that the ugliness is
not in the object, but in the eye. And as for nobler minds, whose
merits are either not discovered, or are misrepresented by the envious
part of mankind, they should rather consider their defamers with pity
than indignation. A man cannot have an idea of perfection in another
which he was never sensible of in himself. Mr. Locke tells us, that
upon asking a blind man, what he thought scarlet was, he answered,
that he believed it was like the sound of a trumpet. He was forced to
form his conceptions of ideas which he had not by those which he had.
In the same manner, ask an envious man, what he thinks of virtue? he
will call it design: what of good-nature? and he will term it dulness.
The difference is, that as the person before mentioned was born blind,
your envious men have contracted the distemper themselves, and are
troubled with a sort of an acquired blindness. Thus the devil in
Milton, though made an angel of light, could see nothing to please him
even in Paradise, and hated our first parents, though in their state of
innocence.[111]
FOOTNOTES:
[110] "Livide" (Martial).
[111] "Paradise Lost," iv. 358 seq.
=No. 228.= [STEELE.
From _Thursday, Sept. 21_, to _Saturday, Sept. 23, 1710_.
----Veniet manus, auxilio quæ
Sit mihi----
HOR., 1 Sat. iv. 141.
_From my own Apartment, Sept. 22._
A man of business who makes a public entertainment, may sometimes leave
his guests, and beg them to divert themselves as well as they can
till his return. I shall here make use of the same privilege (being
engaged in matters of some importance relating to the family of the
Bickerstaffs), and must desire my readers to entertain one another till
I can have leisure to attend them. I have therefore furnished out this
paper, as I have done some few others, with letters of my ingenious
correspondents, which I have reason to believe will please the public
as much as my own more elaborate lucubrations.
* * * * *
_Lincoln, Sept. 9_.
"SIR,
"I have long been of the number of your admirers, and take this
opportunity of telling you so. I know not why a man so famed for
astrological observations may not be also a good casuist, upon which
presumption 'tis I ask your advice in an affair that at present puzzles
quite that slender stock of divinity I am master of. I have now been
some time in holy orders, and fellow of a certain college in one of
the universities; but weary of that inactive life, I resolve to be
doing good in my generation. A worthy gentleman has lately offered me
a fat rectory, but means, I perceive, his kinswoman should have the
benefit of the clergy. I am a novice in the world, and confess, it
startles me how the body of Mrs. Abigail can be annexed to cure of
souls. Sir, would you give us in one of your _Tatlers_ the original and
progress of smock-simony, and show us, that where the laws are silent,
men's consciences ought to be so too; you could not more oblige our
fraternity of young divines, and among the rest,
"Your humble Servant,
"HIGH CHURCH."
I am very proud of having a gentleman of this name for my admirer,
and may some time or other write such a treatise as he mentions. In
the meantime I do not see why our clergy, who are very frequently
men of good families, should be reproached if any of them chance to
espouse a handmaid with a rectory _in commendam_, since the best of our
peers have often joined themselves to the daughters of very ordinary
tradesmen upon the same valuable considerations.
* * * * *
"_Globe in Moorfields,
Sept. 16._
"HONOURED SON,
"I have now finished my almanac for the next year, in all the parts
of it except that which concerns the weather; and you having shown
yourself, by some of your late works,[112] more weather-wise than any
of our modern astrologers, I most humbly presume to trouble you upon
this head. You know very well, that in our ordinary almanacs, the
wind and rain, snow and hail, clouds and sunshine, have their proper
seasons, and come up as regularly in their several months as the fruits
and plants of the earth.[113] As for my own part, I freely own to you
that I generally steal my weather out of some antiquated almanac that
foretold it several years ago. Now, sir, what I humbly beg of you is,
that you would lend me your State weather-glass, in order to fill up
this vacant column in my works. This, I know, would sell my almanac
beyond any other, and make me a richer man than Poor Robin.[114] If you
will not grant me this favour, I must have recourse to my old method,
and will copy after an almanac which I have by me, and which I think
was made for the year when the great storm was. I am,
"Sir,
"The most humble of
"Your Admirers,
"T. PHILOMATH."
This gentleman does not consider, what a strange appearance his almanac
would make to the ignorant, should he transpose his weather, as he must
do, did he follow the dictates of my glass. What would the world say
to see summers filled with clouds and storms, and winters with calms
and sunshine, according to the variations of the weather, as they might
accidentally appear in a State barometer? But let that be as it will,
I shall apply my own invention to my own use; and if I do not make my
fortune by it, it will be my own fault.
The next letter comes to me from another self-interested solicitor.
* * * * *
"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,
"I am going to set up for a scrivener, and have thought of a project
which may turn both to your account and mine. It came into my head
upon reading that learned and useful paper of yours concerning
advertisements.[115] You must understand, I have made myself master
in the whole art of advertising, both as to the style and the letter.
Now if you and I could so manage it, that nobody should write
advertisements besides myself, or print them anywhere but in your
paper, we might both of us get estates in a little time. For this
end I would likewise propose, that you should enlarge the design of
advertisements, and have sent you two or three samples of my work in
this kind, which I have made for particular friends, and intend to open
shop with. The first is for a gentleman, who would willingly marry,
if he could find a wife to his liking; the second is for a poor Whig,
who is lately turned out of his post; and the third for a person of a
contrary party, who is willing to get into one.
* * * * *
"'Whereas A. B., next door to the "Pestle and Mortar," being about
thirty years old, of a spare make, with dark-coloured hair, bright
eyes, and a long nose, has occasion for a good-humoured, tall, fair,
young woman, of about £3000 fortune: these are to give notice, that
if any such young woman has a mind to dispose of herself in marriage
to such a person as the above-mentioned, she may be provided with a
husband, a coach and horses, and a proportionable settlement.'
* * * * *
"'C. D., designing to quit his place, has great quantities of paper,
parchment, ink, wax, and wafers to dispose of, which will be sold at
very reasonable rates.'
"'E. F., a person of good behaviour, six foot high, of a black
complexion and sound principles, wants an employ. He is an excellent
penman and accountant, and speaks French.'"
FOOTNOTES:
[112] Nos. 214 and 220.
[113] "Next Tuesday morning will be published the account of the
alterations of wind and weather, by the discoveries of the portable
barometer; from what quarter the wind will blow, clouds or rain,
wind and weather, clear and cloudy, wet and dry, come every day and
night for the month of October, all over England, and also when the
quicksilver weather-glasses will rise in wet, and sink in fair weather,
and rise and sink without any alteration at all. Whereas there was
a false impression of the last month, to the great damage of the
author, who has been at vast charge and expense to being so useful an
invention to perfection, and to prevent the like for the future, it
is hoped that those ingenious persons who are lovers of so useful a
discovery will not encourage the false one, the true one being only to
be had at W. Hawes, at the Rose in Ludgate Street, and A. Baldwin in
Warwick Lane, where they shall be sent to any gentleman, if desired,
monthly" (_Post-Man_, September 26, 1700). These "barometer papers" are
ridiculed in _The Infallible Astrologer_, a paper published in 1700.
[114] This almanac was first published in 1663. The title of it was
assumed in ridicule of Dr. Robert Pory, a pluralist of the last
century, who, amongst other preferments (such as the archdeaconry of
Middlesex, a residentiaryship of St. Paul's, &c.), enjoyed the rectory
of Lambeth. Pory died in 1669, and "Poor Robin's Almanac" professed to
bear his _imprimatur_ (see Wood's "Fasti," Part II., col. 267).
[115] No. 224.
=No. 229.= [ADDISON.
From _Saturday, Sept. 23_, to _Tuesday, Sept. 26, 1710_.
----Sume superbiam
Quæsitam meritis----
HOR., 3 Od. xxx. 14.
_From my own Apartment, Sept. 25._
The whole creation preys upon itself: every living creature is
inhabited. A flea has a thousand invisible insects that tease him
as he jumps from place to place, and revenge our quarrels upon him.
A very ordinary microscope shows us that a louse is itself a very
lousy creature. A whale, besides those seas and oceans in the several
vessels of his body, which are filled with innumerable shoals of little
animals, carries about it a whole world of inhabitants; insomuch that,
if we believe the calculations some have made, there are more living
creatures which are too small for the naked eye to behold about the
leviathan, than there are of visible creatures upon the face of the
whole earth. Thus every nobler creature is as it were the basis and
support of multitudes that are his inferiors.
This consideration very much comforts me, when I think on those
numberless vermin that feed upon this paper, and find their sustenance
out of it: I mean, the small wits and scribblers that every day turn
a penny by nibbling at my Lucubrations. This has been so advantageous
to this little species of writers, that, if they do me justice, I may
expect to have my statue erected in Grub Street, as being a common
benefactor to that quarter.
They say, when a fox is very much troubled with fleas, he goes into
the next pool with a little lock of wool in his mouth, and keeps his
body under water till the vermin get into it, after which he quits the
wool, and diving, leaves his tormentors to shift for themselves, and
get their livelihood where they can. I would have these gentlemen take
care that I do not serve them after the same manner; for though I have
hitherto kept my temper pretty well, it is not impossible but I may
some time or other disappear; and what will then become of them? Should
I lay down my paper, what a famine would there be among the hawkers,
printers, booksellers, and authors? It would be like Dr. B----'s[116]
dropping his cloak, with the whole congregation hanging upon the
skirts of it. To enumerate some of these my doughty antagonists, I
was threatened to be answered weekly _Tit for Tat_: I was undermined
by the _Whisperer_, haunted by _Tom Brown's Ghost_, scolded at by
a _Female Tatler_, and slandered by another of the same character,
under the title of _Atalantis_. I have been _annotated_, _re-tattled_,
_examined_, and _condoled_;[117] but it being my standing maxim never
to speak ill of the dead, I shall let these authors rest in peace, and
take great pleasure in thinking that I have sometimes been the means
of their getting a bellyful. When I see myself thus surrounded by such
formidable enemies, I often think of the Knight of the Red Cross in
Spenser's "Den of Error," who after he has cut off the dragon's head,
and left it wallowing in a flood of ink, sees a thousand monstrous
reptiles making their attempts upon him, one with many heads, another
with none, and all of them without eyes.
_The same so sore annoyèd has the knight,
That well-nigh chokèd with the deadly stink,
His forces fail, he can no longer fight;
Whose courage when the fiend perceived to shrink,
She pourèd forth out of her hellish sink
Her fruitful cursèd spawn of serpents small,
Deformèd monsters, foul, and black as ink;
Which swarming all about his legs did crawl,
And him encumbered sore, but could not hurt at all._
_As gentle shepherd in sweet eventide,
When ruddy Phœbus 'gins to welk in West,
High on an hill, his flock to viewen wide,
Marks which do bite their hasty supper best;
A cloud of cumbrous gnats do him molest,
All striving to infix their feeble stings,
That from their 'noyance he nowhere can rest;
But with his clownish hands their tender wings
He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings._[118]
If ever I should want such a fry of little authors to attend me, I
shall think my paper in a very decaying condition. They are like ivy
about an oak, which adorns the tree at the same time that it eats into
it; or like a great man's equipage, that do honour to the person on
whom they feed. For my part, when I see myself thus attacked, I do not
consider my antagonists as malicious, but hungry, and therefore am
resolved never to take any notice of them.
As for those who detract from my labours without being prompted to it
by an empty stomach, in return to their censures I shall take pains to
excel, and never fail to persuade myself, that their enmity is nothing
but their envy or ignorance.
Give me leave to conclude, like an old man and a moralist, with a fable:
The owls, bats, and several other birds of night, were one day got
together in a thick shade, where they abused their neighbours in a very
sociable manner. Their satire at last fell upon the sun, whom they
all agreed to be very troublesome, impertinent, and inquisitive. Upon
which the sun, who overheard them, spoke to them after this manner:
"Gentlemen, I wonder how you dare abuse one that you know could in an
instant scorch you up, and burn every mother's son of you: but the
only answer I shall give you, or the revenge I shall take of you, is,
to _shine on_."[119]
FOOTNOTES:
[116] Daniel Burgess (see No. 66).
[117] The first number of _Tit for Tat_ appeared under the name
of Jo. Partridge, Esq., on March 2, 1710, with an announcement of
Bickerstaff's death; probably it reached only to five numbers. Of the
_Whisperer_ (October 11, 1709), and the _Gazette à-la-Mode, or Tom
Brown's Ghost_ (May 12, 1709), only single numbers are known. The
_Female Tatler_, issued by Thomas Baker, lasted from July 8, 1709,
to March 31, 1710; and there was a rival paper, with the same title,
printed for A Baldwin. The "New Atalantis," Mrs. Manley's well-known
book, contained more than one attack on Steele. "Annotated" refers to
the satirical "Annotations upon the _Tatler_," 1710 (see No. 224);
and "condoled," to a pamphlet, "A Condoling Letter to the _Tatler_;
on account of the misfortunes of Isaac Bickerstaff, a prisoner in the
---- on suspicion of debt" (September 19, 1710). The Tory _Examiner_
had much to say about the _Tatler_ and Steele's subsequent writings.
Nothing is known of a _Re-Tatler_.
"For my part," wrote Defoe, "I have always thought that the weakest
step the Tatler ever took, if that complete author can be said to
have done anything weak, was to stoop to take the least notice of the
barkings of the animals that have condoled him, examined him, &c. He
should have let every bark and fool rail, and, according to his own
observation of the fable of the sun, continued to shine on. This I have
found to be agreeable to the true notion of contempt. Silence is the
utmost slight nature can dictate to a man, and the most insupportable
for a vain man to bear."
[118] "Faërie Queene," 1. i. 22, 23.
[119] See No. 239.
=No. 230.= [STEELE and SWIFT.
From _Tuesday, Sept. 26_, to _Thursday, Sept. 28, 1710_.
_From my own Apartment, Sept. 27._
The following letter has laid before me many great and manifest evils
in the world of letters which I had overlooked; but they open to me
a very busy scene, and it will require no small care and application
to amend errors which are become so universal. The affectation of
politeness is exposed in this epistle with a great deal of wit and
discernment; so that whatever discourses I may fall into hereafter upon
the subjects the writer treats of, I shall at present lay the matter
before the world without the least alteration from the words of my
correspondent.[120]
* * * * *
To ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.
"SIR,