Oct. 4, 1710). "And now I am going in charity to send Steele another
_Tatler_, who is very low of late" (_Ib._, Oct. 7, 1710). "I am now
writing my poetical description of a 'Shower in London,' and will
send it to the _Tatler_" (_Ib._, Oct. 10, 1710). "I have finished my
poem on the 'Shower,' all but the beginning; and am going on with my
_Tatler_" (_Ib._, Oct. 12, 1710). "This day came out the _Tatler_,
made up wholly of my 'Shower,' and a preface to it. They say it is the
best thing I ever wrote, and I think so too. I suppose the Bishop of
Clogher will show it you. Pray tell me how you like it" (_Ib._, Oct.
17, 1710). "They both [Rowe and Prior] fell commending my 'Shower'
beyond anything that has been written of the kind; there never was such
a 'Shower' since Danae's," &c. "You must tell me how it is liked among
you" (_Ib._, Oct. 27, 1710). "The Bishop of Clogher says, I bid him
read the London 'Shaver,' and that you both swore it was 'Shaver,' and
not 'Shower.' You all lie, and you are puppies, and can't read Presto's
hand" (_Ib._, Nov. 28, 1710). "My 'Shower' admired with you; why the
Bishop of Clogher says, he has seen something of mine of the same sort,
better than the 'Shower.' I suppose he means 'The Morning'; but it is
not half so good" (_Ib._, Nov. 30, 1710).
[144] Altered in Johnson's "Poets," and other editions, to "old aches
will throb"; otherwise "aches" must be pronounced as a dissyllable.
=No. 239.= [ADDISON.
From _Tuesday, Oct. 17_, to _Thursday, Oct. 19, 1710_.
----Mecum certasse feretur.--OVID, Met. xiii. 20.
_From my own Apartment, Oct. 18._
It is ridiculous for any man to criticise on the works of another, who
has not distinguished himself by his own performances. A judge would
make but an indifferent figure who had never been known at the bar.
Cicero was reputed the greatest orator of his age and country before
he wrote a book "De Oratore"; and Horace the greatest poet before he
published his "Art of Poetry." This observation arises naturally in
any one who casts his eye upon this last-mentioned author, where he
will find the criticisms placed in the latter end of his book, that is,
after the finest odes and satires in the Latin tongue.
A modern, whose name I shall not mention,[145] because I would not make
a silly paper sell, was born a critic and an Examiner, and, like one
of the race of the serpent's teeth, came into the world with a sword
in his hand. His works put me in mind of the story that is told of a
German monk, who was taking a catalogue of a friend's library, and
meeting with a Hebrew book in it, entered it under the title of "A
book that has the beginning where the end should be." This author, in
the last of his crudities, has amassed together a heap of quotations,
to prove that Horace and Virgil were both of them modester men than
myself, and if his works were to live as long as mine, they might
possibly give posterity a notion, that Isaac Bickerstaff was a very
conceited old fellow, and as vain a man as either Tully or Sir Francis
Bacon. Had this serious writer fallen upon me only, I could have
overlooked it; but to see Cicero abused, is, I must confess, what I
cannot bear. The censure he passes upon this great man runs thus: "The
itch of being very abusive, is almost inseparable from vainglory. Tully
has these two faults in so high a degree, that nothing but his being
the best writer in the world can make amends for them." The scurrilous
wretch goes on to say I am as bad as Tully. His words are these: "And
yet the Tatler, in his paper of September 26, has outdone him in both.
He speaks of himself with more arrogance, and with more insolence of
others." I am afraid by his discourse, this gentleman has no more read
Plutarch than he has Tully. If he had, he would have observed a passage
in that historian, wherein he has with great delicacy distinguished
between two passions which are usually complicated in human nature,
and which an ordinary writer would not have thought of separating. Not
having my Greek spectacles by me, I shall quote the passage word for
word as I find it translated to my hand. "Nevertheless, though he was
intemperately fond of his own praise, yet he was very free from envying
others, and most liberally profuse in commending both the ancients and
his contemporaries, as is to be understood by his writings; and many
of those sayings are still recorded, as that concerning Aristotle, that
he was a river of flowing gold: of Plato's 'Dialogue,' that if Jupiter
were to speak, he would discourse as he did. Theophrastus he was wont
to call his peculiar delight; and being asked, which of Demosthenes his
orations he liked best? he answered, the longest.
"And as for the eminent men of his own time, either for eloquence or
philosophy, there was not one of them which he did not, by writing or
speaking favourably of, render more illustrious."
Thus the critic tells us, that Cicero was excessively vainglorious and
abusive; Plutarch, that he was vain, but not abusive. Let the reader
believe which of them he pleases.
After this he complains to the world, that I call him names; and
that in my passion I said, he was "a flea, a louse, an owl, a bat,
a small wit, a scribbler, and a nibbler." When he has thus bespoken
his reader's pity, he falls into that admirable vein of mirth, which
I shall set down at length, it being an exquisite piece of raillery,
and written in great gaiety of heart. "After this list of names (viz.,
flea, louse, owl, bat, &c.), I was surprised to hear him say, that he
has hitherto kept his temper pretty well; I wonder how he will write
when he has lost his temper? I suppose, as he now is very angry and
unmannerly, he will then be exceeding courteous and good-humoured." If
I can outlive this raillery, I shall be able to bear anything.
There is a method of criticism made use of by this author (for I shall
take care how I call him a scribbler again), which may turn into
ridicule any work that was ever written, wherein there is a variety of
thoughts: this the reader will observe in the following words: "He
(meaning me) is so intent upon being something extraordinary, that he
scarce knows what he would be; and is as fruitful in his similes, as
a brother of his[146] whom I lately took notice of. In the compass of
a few lines he compares himself to a fox, to Daniel Burgess, to the
Knight of the Red Cross, to an oak with ivy about it, and to a great
man with an equipage." I think myself as much honoured by being joined
in this part of his paper with the gentleman whom he here calls my
brother, as I am in the beginning of it, by being mentioned with Horace
and Virgil.
It is very hard that a man cannot publish ten papers without stealing
from himself; but to show you that this is only a knack of writing, and
that the author is got into a certain road of criticism, I shall set
down his remarks on the works of the gentleman whom he here glances
upon, as they stand in his sixth paper, and desire the reader to
compare them with the foregoing passage upon mine:
"In thirty lines his patron is a river, the _primum mobile_, a pilot, a
victim, the sun, anything, and nothing. He bestows increase, conceals
his source, makes the machine move, teaches to steer, expiates our
offences, raises vapours, and looks larger as he sets."
What poem can be safe from this sort of criticism? I think I was
never in my life so much offended as at a wag whom I once met with in
a coffee-house: he had in his hand one of the Miscellanies, and was
reading the following short copy of verses, which, without flattery to
the author,[147] is, I think, as beautiful in its kind as any one in
the English tongue:
_Flavia the least and slightest toy
Can with resistless art employ.
This fan in meaner hands would prove
An engine of small force in love;
But she with such an air and mien,
Not to be told, or safely seen,
Directs its wanton motions so,
That it wounds more than Cupid's bow;
Gives coolness to the matchless dame,
To every other breast a flame._
When this coxcomb had done reading them, "Heyday!" says he, "what
instrument is this that Flavia employs in such a manner as is not to be
told, nor safely seen? In ten lines it is a toy, a Cupid's bow, a fan,
and an engine in love. It has wanton motions, it wounds, it cools, and
inflames."
Such criticisms make a man of sense sick, and a fool merry.
The next paragraph of the paper we are talking of falls upon somebody
whom I am at a loss to guess at:[148] but I find the whole invective
turns upon a man who (it seems) has been imprisoned for debt. Whoever
he was, I most heartily pity him; but at the same time must put the
Examiner in mind, that notwithstanding he is a critic, he still ought
to remember he is a Christian. Poverty was never thought a proper
subject for ridicule; and I do not remember that I ever met with a
satire upon a beggar.
As for those little retortings of my own expressions, of being dull by
design, witty in October, shining, excelling, and so forth; they are
the common cavils of every witling, who has no other method of showing
his parts, but by little variations and repetitions of the man's words
whom he attacks.
But the truth of it is, the paper before me, not only in this
particular, but in its very essence, is like Ovid's echo:
----Quæ nec reticere loquenti,
Nec prior ipsa loqui didicit.[149]
I should not have deserved the character of a censor, had I not
animadverted upon the above-mentioned author by a gentle chastisement:
but I know my reader will not pardon me, unless I declare, that nothing
of this nature for the future (unless it be written with some wit)
shall divert me from my care of the public.
FOOTNOTES:
[145] The _Examiner_, the eleventh number of which consisted of jibes
against No. 229 of the _Tatler_, by Addison.
[146] Sir Samuel Garth, who has attacked in the sixth number of the
_Examiner_.
[147] Bishop Atterbury. The verses were written "on a white fan
borrowed from Miss Osborne, afterwards his wife."
[148] The attack was, of course, on Steele, and consisted of allusions
to sponging-houses and fears of arrest for debt. It will be remarked
that No. 229 was really by Addison, who here nobly defends his friend.
[149] Ovid, "Met." iii, 357.
=No. 240.= [ADDISON.
From _Thursday, Oct. 19_, to _Saturday, Oct. 21, 1710_.
Ad populum phaleras.--PERS., Sat. iii. 30.
_From my own Apartment, Oct. 20._
I do not remember that in any of my Lucubrations I have touched upon
that useful science of physic, notwithstanding I have declared myself
more than once a professor of it. I have indeed joined the study of
astrology with it, because I never knew a physician recommend himself
to the public who had not a sister art to embellish his knowledge in
medicine. It has been commonly observed in compliment to the ingenious
of our profession, that Apollo was god of verse as well as physic; and
in all ages the most celebrated practitioners of our country were the
particular favourites of the Muses. Poetry to physic is indeed like the
gilding to a pill; it makes the art shine, and covers the severity of
the doctor with the agreeableness of the companion.
The very foundation of poetry is good sense, if we may allow Horace to
be a judge of the art:
_Scribendi recte sapere est et principium et fons._[150]
And if so, we have reason to believe that the same man who writes well
can prescribe well, if he has applied himself to the study of both.
Besides, when we see a man making profession of two different sciences,
it is natural for us to believe he is no pretender in that which we are
not judges of when we find him skilful in that which we understand.
Ordinary quacks and charlatans are thoroughly sensible how necessary it
is to support themselves by these collateral assistances, and therefore
always lay their claim to some supernumerary accomplishments which are
wholly foreign to their profession.
About twenty years ago it was impossible to walk the streets without
having an advertisement thrust into your hand of a doctor who was
arrived at the knowledge of the green and red dragon, and had
discovered the female fern seed. Nobody ever knew what this meant; but
the green and red dragon so amused the people, that the doctor lived
very comfortably upon them. About the same time there was pasted a very
hard word upon every corner of the streets. This, to the best of my
remembrance, was
TETRACHYMAGOGON,
which drew great shoals of spectators about it, who read the bill that
it introduced with unspeakable curiosity; and when they were sick,
would have nobody but this learned man for their physician.
I once received an advertisement of one who had studied thirty
years by candle-light for the good of his countrymen. He might have
studied twice as long by daylight, and never have been taken notice
of: but lucubrations cannot be overvalued. There are some who have
gained themselves great reputation for physic by their birth, as the
seventh son of a seventh son; and others by not being born at all, as
the Unborn Doctor,[151] who, I hear, is lately gone the way of his
patients, having died worth five hundred pounds per annum, though he
was not born to a halfpenny.
My ingenious friend Dr. Saffold[152] succeeded my old contemporary
Dr. Lilly[153] in the studies both of physic and astrology, to which
he added that of poetry, as was to be seen both upon the sign where
he lived, and in the bills which he distributed. He was succeeded by
Dr. Case,[154] who erased the verses of his predecessor out of the
sign-post, and substituted in their stead two of his own, which were as
follows:
_Within this place
Lives_ Doctor CASE.
He is said to have got more by this distich than Mr. Dryden did by all
his works. There would be no end of enumerating the several imaginary
perfections and unaccountable artifices by which this tribe of men
ensnare the minds of the vulgar, and gain crowds of admirers. I have
seen the whole front of a mountebank's stage from one end to the other
faced with patents, certificates, medals, and great seals, by which the
several princes of Europe have testified their particular respect and
esteem for the doctor. Every great man with a sounding title has been
his patient. I believe I have seen twenty mountebanks that have given
physic to the Czar of Muscovy. The great Duke of Tuscany escapes no
better. The Elector of Brandenburg was likewise a very good patient.
This great condescension of the doctor draws upon him much good-will
from his audience; and it is ten to one, but if any of them be troubled
with an aching tooth, his ambition will prompt him to get it drawn by a
person who has had so many princes, kings, and emperors under his hands.
I must not leave this subject without observing, that as physicians are
apt to deal in poetry, apothecaries endeavour to recommend themselves
by oratory, and are therefore without controversy the most eloquent
persons in the whole British nation. I would not willingly discourage
any of the arts, especially that of which I am a humble professor; but
I must confess, for the good of my native country, I could wish there
might be a suspension of physic for some years, that our kingdom, which
has been so much exhausted by the wars, might have leave to recruit
itself.
As for myself, the only physic which has brought me safe to almost the
age of man, and which I prescribe to all my friends, is abstinence.
This is certainly the best physic for prevention, and very often the
most effectual against a present distemper. In short, my recipe is,
Take nothing.
Were the body politic to be physicked like particular persons, I should
venture to prescribe to it after the same manner. I remember when our
whole island was shaken with an earthquake some years ago, there was
an impudent mountebank who sold pills which (as he told the country
people) were very good against an earthquake. It may perhaps be thought
as absurd to prescribe a diet for the allaying popular commotions, and
national ferments. But I am verily persuaded, that if in such a case a
whole people were to enter into a course of abstinence, and eat nothing
but water-gruel for a fortnight, it would abate the rage and animosity
of parties, and not a little contribute to the cure of a distracted
nation. Such a fast would have a natural tendency to the procuring of
those ends for which a fast is usually proclaimed. If any man has a
mind to enter on such a voluntary abstinence, it might not be improper
to give him the caution of Pythagoras in particular:[155]
_Abstine a fabis._
"Abstain from beans."
That is, say the interpreters, meddle not with elections, beans having
been made use of by the voters among the Athenians in the choice of
magistrates.
FOOTNOTES:
[150] Ars Poet. 309
[151] Kirleus (see No. 14).
[152] Saffold (see No. 20, note) is said to have been originally a
weaver. Afterwards he told fortunes, and practised as a quack doctor.
A satirical "Elegy on the Death of Thomas Saffold, who departed this
life, May 12, 1691," was published after his death.
[153] William Lilly, astrologer, died in 1681, aged seventy-nine. He
published thirty-six almanacs, and a large number of pamphlets about
his predictions. In 1715 appeared the "History of Lilly's Life and
Times," written by himself.
[154] See No. 20.
[155] See Cicero, Div. i. 30, 62; ii. 58, 119; and Horace, 2 Sat. vi.
63.
=No. 241.= [STEELE.
From _Saturday, Oct. 21_, to _Tuesday, Oct. 24, 1710_.
_From my own Apartment, Oct. 23._
A method of spending one's time agreeably is a thing so little studied,
that the common amusement of our young gentlemen (especially of such
as are at a distance from those of the first breeding) is drinking.
This way of entertainment has custom of its side; but as much as it has
prevailed, I believe there have been very few companies that have been
guilty of excess this way, where there have not happened more accidents
which make against than for the continuance of it. It is very common
that events arise from a debauch which are fatal, and always such as
are disagreeable. With all a man's reason and good sense about him,
his tongue is apt to utter things out of mere gaiety of heart which
may displease his best friends. Who then would trust himself to the
power of wine, without saying more against it, than that it raises the
imagination, and depresses the judgment. Were there only this single
consideration, that we are less masters of ourselves when we drink in
the least proportion above the exigencies of thirst; I say, were this
all that could be objected, it were sufficient to make us abhor this
vice. But we may go on to say, that as he who drinks but a little is
not master of himself, so he who drinks much is a slave to himself.
As for my part, I ever esteemed a drunkard of all vicious persons the
most vicious: for if our actions are to be weighed and considered
according to the intention of them, what can we think of him who puts
himself into a circumstance wherein he can have no intention at all,
but incapacitates himself for the duties and offices of life, by a
suspension of all his faculties. If a man considered, that he cannot
under the oppression of drink be a friend, a gentleman, a master, or a
subject; that he has so long banished himself from all that is dear,
and given up all that is sacred to him, he would even then think of a
debauch with horror: but when he looks still further, and acknowledges,
that he is not only expelled out of all the relations of life, but also
liable to offend against them all, what words can express the terror
and detestation he would have of such a condition? And yet he owns all
this of himself who says he was drunk last night.
As I have all along persisted in it, that all the vicious in general
are in a state of death, so I think I may add to the non-existence
of drunkards, that they died by their own hands. He is certainly as
guilty of suicide who perishes by a slow, as he that is despatched by
an immediate poison. In my last Lucubration I proposed the general use
of water-gruel, and hinted that it might not be amiss at this very
season: but as there are some whose cases, in regard to their families,
will not admit of delay, I have used my interest in several wards of
the city, that the wholesome restorative above mentioned may be given
in tavern kitchens to all the morning's draught-men within the walls
when they call for wine before noon. For a further restraint and mark
upon such persons, I have given orders, that in all the offices where
policies are drawn upon lives, it shall be added to the article which
prohibits that the nominee should cross the sea, the words, "Provided
also, that the above-mentioned A. B. shall not drink before dinner
during the term mentioned in this indenture."
I am not without hopes but by this method I shall bring some
unsizable friends of mine into shape and breath, as well as others
who are languid and consumptive into health and vigour. Most of the
self-murderers whom I yet hinted at, are such as preserve a certain
regularity in taking their poison, and make it mix pretty well with
their food: but the most conspicuous of those who destroy themselves,
are such as in their youth fall into this sort of debauchery, and
contract a certain uneasiness of spirit, which is not to be diverted
but by tippling as often as they can fall into company in the day, and
conclude with downright drunkenness at night. These gentlemen never
know the satisfaction of youth, but skip the years of manhood, and are
decrepid soon after they are of age. I was god-father to one of these
old fellows. He is now three-and-thirty, which is the grand climacteric
of a young drunkard. I went to visit the crazy wretch this morning,
with no other purpose but to rally him under the pain and uneasiness of
being sober.
But as our faults are double when they affect others besides ourselves,
so this vice is still more odious in a married than a single man. He
that is the husband of a woman of honour, and comes home overloaded
with wine, is still more contemptible in proportion to the regard
we have to the unhappy consort of his bestiality. The imagination
cannot shape to itself anything more monstrous and unnatural than the
familiarities between drunkenness and chastity. The wretched Astrea,
who is the perfection of beauty and innocence, has long been thus
condemned for life. The romantic tales of virgins devoted to the jaws
of monsters, have nothing in them so terrible as the gift of Astrea to
that bacchanal.
The reflection of such a match as spotless innocence with abandoned
lewdness, is what puts this vice in the worst figure it can bear with
regard to others; but when it is looked upon with respect only to the
drunkard himself, it has deformities enough to make it disagreeable,
which may be summed up in a word, by allowing, that he who resigns his
reason, is actually guilty of all that he is liable to from the want of
reason.
_P.S._--Among many other enormities, there are two in the following
letters which I think should be suddenly amended; but since they are
sins of omission only, I shall not make remarks upon them till I find
the delinquents persist in their errors; and the inserting the letters
themselves shall be all their present admonition.
* * * * *
_October 16_.
"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,
"Several that frequent divine service at St. Paul's, as well as
myself, having with great satisfaction observed the good effect which
your animadversion had on an excess in performance there;[156] it is
requested, that you will take notice of a contrary fault, which is the
unconcerned silence and the motionless postures of others who come
thither. If this custom prevails, the congregation will resemble an
audience at a play-house, or rather a dumb meeting of Quakers. Your
censuring such church-mutes in the manner you think fit, may make these
dissenters join with us, out of fear lest you should further animadvert
upon their non-conformity. According as this succeeds, you shall hear
from,
"Sir,
"Your most humble Servant,
"B. B."
* * * * *
"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,