_From my own Apartment, September_ 12.
No man can conceive, till he comes to try it, how great a pain it is to
be a public-spirited person. I am sure I am unable to express to the
world, how much anxiety I have suffered, to see of how little benefit my
Lucubrations have been to my fellow-subjects. Men will go on in their
own way in spite of all my labour. I gave Mr. Didapper a private
reprimand for wearing red-heeled shoes, and at the same time was so
indulgent as to connive at him for fourteen days, because I would give
him the wearing of them out; but after all this I am informed, he
appeared yesterday with a new pair of the same sort. I have no better
success with Mr. Whatdee'call[1] as to his buttons: Stentor[2] still
roars; and box and dice rattle as loud as they did before I writ
against them. Partridge[3] walks about at noon-day, and Aesculapius[4]
thinks of adding a new lace to his livery. However, I must still go on in
laying these enormities before men's eyes, and let them answer for going
on in their practice.[5] My province is much larger than at first sight
men would imagine, and I shall lose no part of my jurisdiction, which
extends not only to futurity, but also is retrospect to things past; and
the behaviour of persons who have long ago acted their parts, is as much
liable to my examination, as that of my own contemporaries.
In order to put the whole race of mankind in their proper distinctions,
according to the opinion their cohabitants conceived of them, I have with
very much care, and depth of meditation, thought fit to erect a Chamber
of Fame, and established certain rules, which are to be observed in
admitting members into this illustrious society. In this Chamber of Fame
there are to be three tables, but of different lengths; the first is to
contain exactly twelve persons; the second, twenty; the third, an
hundred. This is reckoned to be the full number of those who have any
competent share of fame. At the first of these tables are to be placed
in their order the twelve most famous persons in the world, not with
regard to the things they are famous for, but according to the degree of
their fame, whether in valour, wit, or learning. Thus if a scholar be
more famous than a soldier, he is to sit above him. Neither must any
preference be given to virtue, if the person be not equally famous. When
the first table is filled, the next in renown must be seated at the
second, and so on in like manner to the number of twenty; as also in the
same order at the third, which is to hold an hundred. At these tables no
regard is to be had to seniority: for if Julius Caesar shall be judged
more famous than Romulus and Scipio, he must have the precedence. No
person who has not been dead an hundred years, must be offered to a place
at any of these tables: and because this is altogether a lay society, and
that sacred persons move upon greater motives than that of fame, no
persons celebrated in Holy Writ, or any ecclesiastical men whatsoever,
are to be introduced here.
At the lower end of the room is to be a side-table for persons of great
fame, but dubious existence, such as Hercules, Theseus, Aeneas, Achilles,
Hector, and others. But because it is apprehended, that there may be
great contention about precedence, the proposer humbly desires the
opinion of the learned towards his assistance in placing every person
according to his rank, that none may have just occasion of offence.
The merits of the cause shall be judged by plurality of voices.
For the more impartial execution of this important affair, it is desired,
that no man will offer his favourite hero, scholar, or poet; and that the
learned will be pleased to send to Mr. Bickerstaff, at Mr. Morphew's near
Stationers' Hall, their several lists for the first table only, and in
the order they would have them placed; after which, the composer will
compare the several lists, and make another for the public, wherein every
name shall be ranked according to the voices it has had. Under this
chamber is to be a dark vault for the same number of persons of evil
fame.
It is humbly submitted to consideration, whether the project would not be
better, if the persons of true fame meet in a middle room, those of
dubious existence in an upper room, and those of evil fame in a lower
dark room.
It is to be noted, that no historians are to be admitted at any of these
tables, because they are appointed to conduct the several persons to
their seats, and are to be made use of as ushers to the assemblies.
I call upon the learned world to send me their assistance towards this
design, it being a matter of too great moment for any one person to
determine. But I do assure them, their lists shall be examined with great
fidelity, and those that are exposed to the public, made with all the
caution imaginable.
[Footnote 1: "N.B. Mr. How'd'call is desired to leave off those
buttons."--No. 21. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 2: Dr. William Stanley (1647-1731), master of Corpus Christi
College, Cambridge, was Dean of St. Asaph in 1706-31. In No. 54 of "The
Tatler," he is described as a person "accustomed to roar and bellow so
terribly loud in the responses that . . . one of our petty canons, a
punning Cambridge scholar, calls his way of worship a _Bull-offering._"
In the sixty-first number a further reference is made to him: "A person
of eminent wit and piety [Dr. R. South] wrote to Stentor: 'Brother
Stentor,' said he, 'for the repose of the Church, hearken to Bickerstaff;
and consider that, while you are so devout at St. Paul's, we cannot
sleep for you at St. Peter's.'" [T.S.]]
[Footnote 3: John Partridge (1644-1715) cobbler, philomath, and quack,
was the author of "Merlinus Liberatus," first issued in 1680. He libelled
his master, John Gadbury, in his "Nebulo Anglicanus" (1693), and
quarrelled with George Parker, a fellow-quack and astrologer. It is of
him that Swift wrote his famous "Predictions" (see vol. i. of this
edition, p. 298), and issued his broadside, concluding with the lines:
"Here, five feet deep, lies on his back,
A cobler, starmonger, and quack,
Who to the stars in pure good will
Does to his best look upward still:
Weep, all you customers that use
His pills, his almanacks, or shoes."
In No. 59 of "The Tatler," his death is referred to in harmony with
the tone of Swift's fun: "The late Partridge, who still denies his
death. I am informed indeed by several that he walks." [T.S.]]
[Footnote 4: The famous Dr. John Radcliffe (1650-1714) who refused the
appointment of physician to King William III., and offended Anne by his
churlish disregard of her requests to attend on her. He fell in love
with a Miss Tempest, one of Queen Anne's maids of honour. In the 44th
number of "The Tatler" Steele ridicules this attachment by making him
address his mistress in the following words: "O fair! for thee I sit
amidst a crowd of painted deities on my chariot, buttoned in gold,
clasped in gold, without having any value for that beloved metal, but as
it adorns the person and laces the hat of thy dying lover." Radcliffe
attended Swift for his dizziness, but that did not prevent the latter
from referring to him as "that puppy," in writing to Stella, for
neglecting to attend to Harley's wound. He seems to have had a high
standing for skill as a physician, and probably on that account gave
himself airs. It is told of him that "during a long attendance in the
family of a particular friend, he regularly refused the fee pressed upon
him at each visit. At length, when the cure was performed, and the
doctor about to give up attendance, the convalescent patient again
proffered him a purse containing the fees for every day's visit. The
doctor eyed it some time in silence, and at length extended his hand,
exclaiming, 'Singly, I could have refused them for ever; but altogether
they are irresistible.'" Radcliffe died at Carshalton in 1714. From his
bequests were founded the Radcliffe Infirmary and Observatory at Oxford.
[T.S.]]
[Footnote 5: Scott omits, from his edition, the whole of this paragraph
up to this point. [T.S.]]