AC. Bite! How?
TRIM. Nay, he has bit you fairly enough; that's certain.
AC. Pox! I don't feel it--how? Where?
[_Exit_ PIP _and_ TRIMMER, _laughing._
AC. Ho! Mr. Friendly, your most humble servant; you heard what passed
between those fine gentlemen and me. Pip complained to me, that he has
been voweled; and they tell me, I am bit.
FRIEND. You are to understand, sir, that simplicity of behaviour, which
is the perfection of good breeding and good sense, is utterly lost in
the world; and in the room of it, there are started a thousand little
inventions, which men, barren of better things, take up in the place of
it. Thus, for every character in conversation that used to please, there
is an impostor put upon you. Him whom we allowed formerly for a certain
pleasant subtilty, and natural way of giving you an unexpected hit,
called a droll, is now mimicked by a biter, who is a dull fellow, that
tells you a lie with a grave face, and laughs at you for knowing him no
better than to believe him. Instead of that sort of companion, who could
rally you, and keep his countenance, till he made you fall into some
little inconsistency of behaviour, at which you yourself could laugh
with him, you have the sneerer, who will keep you company from morning
to night, to gather your follies of the day (which perhaps you commit
out of confidence in him), and expose you in the evening to all the
scorners in town. For your man of sense and free spirit, whose set of
thoughts were built upon learning, reason, and experience, you have now
an impudent creature made up of vice only, who supports his ignorance by
his courage, and want of learning by contempt of it.
AC. Dear sir, hold: what you have told me already of this change in
conversation, is too miserable to be heard with any delight; but,
methinks, as these new creatures appear in the world, it might give an
excellent field to writers for the stage, to divert us with the
representation of them there.
FRIEND. No, no: as you say, there might be some hopes of redress of
these grievances, if there were proper care taken of the theatre; but
the history of that is yet more lamentable than that of the decay of
conversation I gave you.
AC. Pray, sir, a little: I haven't been in town these six years, till
within this fortnight.
FRIEND. It is now some years since several revolutions in the gay world
had made the empire of the stage subject to very fatal convulsions,
which were too dangerous to be cured by the skill of little King
Oberon,[181] who then sat in the throne of it. The laziness of this
prince threw him upon the choice of a person who was fit to spend his
life in contentions, an able and profound attorney, to whom he mortgaged
his whole empire. This Divito[182] is the most skilful of all
politicians: he has a perfect art in being unintelligible in discourse,
and uncomeatable in business. But he having no understanding in this
polite way, brought in upon us, to get in his money,
ladder-dancers,[183] rope-dancers, jugglers, and mountebanks, to strut
in the place of Shakespeare's heroes, and Jonson's humorists. When the
seat of wit was thus mortgaged, without equity of redemption, an
architect[184] arose, who has built the muse a new palace, but secured
her no retinue; so that instead of action there, we have been put off
by song and dance. This latter help of sound has also begun to fail for
want of voices; therefore the palace has since been put into the hands
of a surgeon,[185] who cuts any foreign fellow into an eunuch, and
passes him upon us for a singer of Italy.
AC. I'll go out of town to-morrow.
FRIEND.[186] Things are come to this pass; and yet the world will not
understand, that the theatre has much the same effect on the manners of
the age, as the bank on the credit of the nation. Wit and spirit, humour
and good sense, can never be revived, but under the government of those
who are judges of such talents, who know, that whatever is put up in
their stead, is but a short and trifling expedient, to support the
appearance of them for a season. It is possible, a peace will give
leisure to put these matters under new regulations; but at present, all
the assistance we can see towards our recovery, is as far from giving us
help, as a poultice is from performing what can be done only by the
Grand Elixir.
Will's Coffee-house, May 6.
According to our late design in the applauded verses on the
Morning,[187] which you lately had from hence, we proceed to improve
that just intention, and present you with other labours, made proper to
the place in which they were written. The following poem comes from
Copenhagen, and is as fine a winter-piece as we have ever had from any
of the schools of the most learned painters. Such images as these give
us a new pleasure in our sight, and fix upon our minds traces of
reflection, which accompany us whenever the like objects occur. In
short, excellent poetry and description dwell upon us so agreeably, that
all the readers of them are made to think, if not write, like men of
wit. But it would be injury to detain you longer from this excellent
performance, which is addressed to the Earl of Dorset by Mr.
Philips,[188] the author of several choice poems in Mr. Tonson's new
Miscellany.[189]
_Copenhagen, March 9_, 1709.
From frozen climes, and endless tracks of snow,
From streams that northern winds forbid to flow;
What present shall the muse to Dorset bring;
Or how, so near the Pole, attempt to sing?
The hoary winter here conceals from sight
All pleasing objects that to verse invite.
The hills and dales, and the delightful woods,
The flowery plains, and silver streaming floods,
By snow disguised, in bright confusion lie,
And with one dazzling waste fatigue the eye.
No gentle breathing breeze prepares the spring,
No birds within the desert region sing.
The ships unmoved the boisterous winds defy,
While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fly.
The vast leviathan wants room to play,
And spout his waters in the face of day.
The starving wolves along the main sea prowl,
And to the moon in icy valleys howl.
For many a shining league the level main
Here spreads itself into a glassy plain:
There solid billows of enormous size,
Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rise.
And yet but lately have I seen e'en here,
The winter in a lovely dress appear;
Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasured snow,
Or winds begun through hazy skies to blow.
At evening a keen eastern breeze arose;
And the descending rain unsullied froze.
Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew,
The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view
The face of nature in a rich disguise,
And brightened every object to my eyes.
For every shrub, and every blade of grass,
And every pointed thorn, seemed wrought in glass,
In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show,
While through the ice the crimson berries glow.
The thick-sprung reeds the watery marshes yield,
Seem polished lances in a hostile field.
The stag in limpid currents with surprise,
Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise.
The spreading oak, the beech, and towering pine,
Glazed over, in the freezing ether shine.
The frighted birds the rattling branches shun,
That wave and glitter in the distant sun.
When if a sudden gust of wind arise,
The brittle forest into atoms flies:
The crackling wood beneath the tempest bends,
And in a spangled shower the prospect ends.
Or if a southern gale the region warm,
And by degrees unbind the wintry charm;
The traveller a miry country sees,
And journeys sad beneath the dropping trees.
Like some deluded peasant, Merlin leads
Through fragrant bowers, and through delicious meads;
While here enchanted gardens to him rise,
And airy fabrics there attract his eyes,
His wandering feet the magic paths pursue;
And while he thinks the fair illusion true,
The trackless scenes disperse in fluid air,
And woods and wilds, and thorny ways appear:
A tedious road the weary wretch returns,
And, as he goes, the transient vision mourns.
From my own Apartment, May 6.
There has a mail this day arrived from Holland; but the matter of the
advices importing rather what gives us great expectations, than any
positive assurances, I shall, for this time, decline giving you what I
know, and apply the following verses of Mr. Dryden, in the second part
of "Almanzor," to the present circumstances of things, without
discovering what my knowledge in astronomy suggests to me.
_When empire in its childhood first appears,
A watchful fate o'er sees its tender years:
Till grown more strong, it thrusts and stretches out,
And elbows all the kingdoms round about.
The place thus made for its first breathing free,
It moves again for ease and luxury;
Till swelling by degrees it has possest
The greater space, and now crowds up the rest.
When from behind there starts some petty state,
And pushes on its now unwieldy fate.
Then down the precipice of time it goes,
And sinks in minutes, which in ages rose._[190]
[Footnote 180: "I'll teach you a way to outwit Mrs. Johnson; it is a
new-fashioned way of being witty, and they call it a _bite_. You must
ask a bantering question, or tell some damned lie in a serious manner,
then she will answer, or speak as if you were in earnest, and then cry
you, 'Madam, there's a _bite_.' I would not have you undervalue this,
for it is the constant amusement in Court, and everywhere else among the
great people; and I let you know it, in order to have it obtain among
you, and to teach you a new refinement" (Swift's "Journal"). See the
_Spectator_, Nos. 47, 504: "_A Biter_ is one who tells you a thing you
have no reason to disbelieve in itself; and perhaps has given you,
before he bit you, no reason to disbelieve it for his saying it; and if
you give him credit, laughs in your face, and triumphs that he has
deceived you. In a word, a _Biter_ is one who thinks you a fool, because
you do not think him a knave."]
[Footnote 181: Owen McSwiney, a manager of Drury Lane Theatre, and
afterwards of the Haymarket Theatre. After living in Italy for some
years, he obtained a place in the Custom-house, and was keeper of the
King's Mews. On his death in 1754 he left his fortune to Mrs.
Woffington.]
[Footnote 182: Christopher Rich, manager of Drury Lane Theatre, who died
in 1714, was at this time involved in a quarrel with the principal
actors about the profits of their benefits.]
[Footnote 183: Cibber ("Apology," chap. x.) complains that Rich paid
extraordinary prices to singers, dancers, and other exotic performers,
which were as constantly deducted out of the sinking salaries of his
actors. In December, 1709, the Lord Chamberlain ordered that no new
representations were to be brought upon the stage which were not
necessary to the better performance of comedy or opera, "such as
ladder-dancing, antic postures," &c., without his leave.--(Lord
Chamberlain's Records, Warrant Book, No. 22.)]
[Footnote 184: Sir John Vanbrugh built the Haymarket Theatre in 1705.
The new house was opened with a translation of an Italian opera, "The
Triumph of Love", which met with little success. This was followed by
Vanbrugh's "Confederacy."]
[Footnote 185: John James Heidegger, who died in 1749, aged 90, was the
son of a Swiss clergyman. When over 40 he came to England, and became
the chief director of the opera-house and masquerades. His face was
remarkably ugly.]
[Footnote 186: "Trim", in original editions.]
[Footnote 187: See No. 9.]
[Footnote 188: "Philips writeth verses in a sledge upon the frozen sea,"
wrote Swift, "and transmits them hither to thrive in our warm climate
under the shelter of my Lord Dorset." Addison refers to this poem by
Ambrose Philips in No. 223 of the _Spectator_, and Pope commends it.]
[Footnote 189: The sixth and last volume of Tonson's "Miscellany" opens
with Philips' Pastorals, and closes with those of Pope.]
[Footnote 190: "Almanzor and Almahide; or, The Conquest of Granada. The
Second Part," act i. sc. I.]
No. 13. [STEELE.
From _Saturday, May 7_, to _Tuesday, May 10_, 1709.
* * * * *
From my own Apartment, May 8.
Much hurry and business had to-day perplexed me into a mood too
thoughtful for going into company; for which reason, instead of the
tavern, I went into Lincoln's Inn Walks; and having taken a round or
two, I sat down, according to the allowed familiarity of these places,
on a bench; at the other end of which sat a venerable gentleman, who
speaking with a very affable air, "Mr. Bickerstaff," said he, "I take it
for a very great piece of good fortune, that you have found me out."
"Sir," said I, "I had never, that I know of, the honour of seeing you
before." "That," replied he, "is what I have often lamented; but I
assure you, I have for many years done you good offices, without being
observed by you; or else, when you had any little glimpse of my being
concerned in an affair, you have fled from me, and shunned me like an
enemy; but however, the part I am to act in the world is such, that I am
to go on in doing good, though I meet with never so many repulses, even
from those I oblige." This, thought I, shows a great good nature, but
little judgment in the persons upon whom he confers his favours. He
immediately took notice to me, that he observed by my countenance I
thought him indiscreet in his beneficence, and proceeded to tell me his
quality in the following manner: "I know thee, Isaac, to be so well
versed in the occult sciences, that I need not much preface, or make
long preparations to gain your faith that there are airy beings, who are
employed in the care and attendance of men, as nurses are to infants,
till they come to an age in which they can act of themselves. These
beings are usually called amongst men, guardian angels; and, Mr.
Bickerstaff, I am to acquaint you, that I am to be yours for some time
to come; it being our orders to vary our stations, and sometimes to have
one patient under our protection, and sometimes another, with a power of
assuming what shape we please, to ensnare our wards into their own good.
I have of late been upon such hard duty, and know you have so much work
for me, that I think fit to appear to you face to face, to desire you
would give me as little occasion for vigilance as you can." "Sir," said
I, "it will be a great instruction to me in my behaviour, if you please
to give me some account of your late employments, and what hardships or
satisfactions you have had in them, that I may govern myself
accordingly." He answered: "To give you an example of the drudgery we go
through, I will entertain you only with my three last stations: I was on
the 1st of April last, put to mortify a great beauty, with whom I was a
week; from her I went to a common swearer, and have been last with a
gamester. When I first came to my lady, I found my great work was to
guard well her eyes and ears; but her flatterers were so numerous, and
the house, after the modern way, so full of looking-glasses, that I
seldom had her safe but in her sleep. Whenever we went abroad, we were
surrounded by an army of enemies: when a well-made man appeared, he was
sure to have a side-glance of observation: if a disagreeable fellow, he
had a full face, out of mere inclination to conquests. But at the close
of the evening, on the sixth of the last month, my ward was sitting on a
couch, reading Ovid's 'Epistles'; and as she came to this line of Helen
to Paris,
_She half consents who silently denies;_[191]
entered Philander,[192] who is the most skilful of all men in an address
to women. He is arrived at the perfection of that art which gains them,
which is, to talk like a very miserable man, but look like a very happy
one. I saw Dictinna blush at his entrance, which gave me the alarm; but
he immediately said something so agreeable on her being at study, and
the novelty of finding a lady employed in so grave a manner, that he on
a sudden became very familiarly a man of no consequence; and in an
instant laid all her suspicions of his skill asleep, as he almost had
done mine, till I observed him very dangerously turn his discourse upon
the elegance of her dress, and her judgment in the choice of that very
pretty mourning. Having had women before under my care, I trembled at
the apprehension of a man of sense, who could talk upon trifles, and
resolved to stick to my post with all the circumspection imaginable. In
short, I prepossessed her against all he could say to the advantage of
her dress and person; but he turned again the discourse, where I found I
had no power over her, on the abusing her friends and acquaintance. He
allowed indeed, that Flora had a little beauty, and a great deal of wit;
but then she was so ungainly in her behaviour, and such a laughing
hoyden--Pastorella had with him the allowance of being blameless: but
what was that towards being praiseworthy? To be only innocent, is not to
be virtuous. He afterwards spoke so much against Mrs. Dipple's forehead,
Mrs. Prim's mouth, Mrs. Dentifrice's teeth, and Mrs. Fidget's cheeks,
that she grew downright in love with him: for it is always to be
understood, that a lady takes all you detract from the rest of her sex
to be a gift to her. In a word, things went so far, that I was
dismissed, and she will remember that evening nine months, from the 6th
of April, by a very remarkable token. The next, as I said, I went to was
a common swearer: never was creature so puzzled as myself when I came
first to view his brain; half of it was worn out, and filled up with
mere expletives, that had nothing to do with any other parts of the
texture; therefore, when he called for his clothes in a morning, he
would cry, 'John--?' John does not answer. 'What a plague! Nobody there?
What the devil, and rot me! John, for a lazy dog as you are.' I knew no
way to cure him, but by writing down all he said one morning as he was
dressing, and laying it before him on the toilet when he came to pick
his teeth. The last recital I gave him of what he said for half an hour
before, was, 'What, a pox rot me! Where is the washball? Call the
chairmen: damn them, I warrant they are at the ale-house already!
Zounds, and confound them.' When he came to the glass, he takes up my
note--'Ha! this fellow is worse than me: what, does he swear with pen
and ink?' But reading on, he found them to be his own words. The
stratagem had so good an effect upon him, that he grew immediately a new
man, and is learning to speak without an oath, which makes him extremely
short in his phrases; for, as I observed before, a common swearer has a
brain without any idea on the swearing side; therefore my ward has yet
mighty little to say, and is forced to substitute some other vehicle of
nonsense to supply the defect of his usual expletives. When I left him,
he made use of, 'Oddsbodikins!' 'Oh me!' and, 'Never stir alive!' and so
forth; which gave me hopes of his recovery. So I went to the next I told
you of, the gamester. When we first take our place about a man, the
receptacles of the pericranium are immediately searched. In his, I found
no one ordinary trace of thinking; but strong passion, violent desires,
and a continued series of different changes, had torn it to pieces.
There appeared no middle condition; the triumph of a prince, or the
misery of a beggar, were his alternate states. I was with him no longer
than one day, which was yesterday. In the morning at twelve, we were
worth four thousand pounds; at three, we were arrived at six thousand;
half an hour after, we were reduced to one thousand; at four of the
clock, we were down to two hundred; at five, to fifty; at six, to five;
at seven, to one guinea; the next bet, to nothing: this morning, he
borrowed half a crown of the maid who cleans his shoes; and is now
gaming in Lincoln's Inn Fields among the boys for farthings and oranges,
till he has made up three pieces, and then he returns to White's into
the best company in town." This ended our first discourse; and it is
hoped, you will forgive me, that I have picked so little out of my
companion at our first interview. In the next, it is possible he may
tell me more pleasing incidents; for though he is a familiar, he is not
an evil spirit.
St. James's Coffee-house, May 9.
We hear from the Hague of the 14th instant, N.S., that Monsieur de Torcy
hath had frequent conferences with the Grand Pensioner, and the other
Ministers who were heretofore commissioned to treat with Monsieur
Rouillé. The preliminaries of a peace are almost settled, and the
proceedings wait only for the arrival of the Duke of Marlborough; after
whose approbation of the articles proposed, it is not doubted but the
methods of the treaty will be publicly known. In the meantime, the
States have declared an abhorrence of making any step in this great
affair, but in concert with the Court of Great Britain, and other
princes of the Alliance. The posture of affairs in France does
necessarily oblige that nation to be very much in earnest in their
offers; and Monsieur de Torcy hath professed to the Grand Pensioner,
that he will avoid all occasions of giving him the least jealousy of his
using any address in private conversations for accomplishing the ends of
his embassy. It is said, that as soon as the preliminaries are adjusted,
that Minister is to return to the French Court. The States of Holland
have resolved to make it an instruction to all their men-of-war and
privateers, to bring into their ports whatever neutral ships they shall
meet with laden with corn, and bound for France; and to avoid all cause
of complaint from the potentates to whom these ships shall belong, their
full demand for their freight shall be paid them there. The French
Protestants residing in that country have applied themselves to their
respective magistrates, desiring that there may be an article in the
treaty of peace, which may give liberty of conscience to the Protestants
in France. Monsieur Bosnage, minister of the Walloon church at
Rotterdam, has been at the Hague and hath had some conferences with the
deputies of the States on that subject. It is reported there, that all
the French refugees in those dominions are to be naturalised, that they
may enjoy the same good effects of the treaty with the Hollanders
themselves, in respect of France.
Letters from Paris say, the people conceive great hopes of a sudden
peace, from Monsieur Torcy's being employed in the negotiation, he being
a Minister of too great weight in that Court, to be sent on any
employment in which his master would not act in a manner wherein he
might justly promise himself success. The French advices add, that there
is an insurrection in Poictou; 3000 men having taken up arms, and beaten
the troops which were appointed to disperse them: three of the mutineers
being taken, were immediately executed; and as many of the king's party
were used after the same manner.
Our late Act of Naturalisation[193] hath had so great an effect in
foreign parts, that some princes have prohibited the French refugees in
their dominions to sell or transfer their estates to any other of their
subjects; and at the same time have granted them greater immunities than
they hitherto enjoyed. It has been also thought necessary to restrain
their own subjects from leaving their native country, on pain of death.
[Footnote 191: Ovid's "Epistles," 1709; translation of "Helen's Epistle
to Paris," by the Earl of Mulgrave and Dryden.]
[Footnote 192: An original for Philander has been found in Lord Halifax.
See No. 49.]
[Footnote 193: See No. 9. "If the Whigs were now restored to power, the
bill [for a general naturalisation] now to be repealed, would then be
re-enacted, and the birthright of an Englishman reduced again to the
value of twelve pence."--(_Examiner_, vol. i. No. 26.)]
No. 14. [STEELE.
From _Tuesday May 10_, to _Thursday, May 12_, 1709.
* * * * *
From my own Apartment, May 10.
Had it not been that my familiar had appeared to me, as I told you in my
last, in person, I had certainly been unable to have found even words,
without meaning, to keep up my intelligence with the town: but he has
checked me severely for my despondence, and ordered me to go on in my
design of observing upon things, and forbearing persons; "for," said he,
"the age you live in is such, that a good picture of any vice or virtue
will infallibly be misrepresented; and though none will take the kind
descriptions you make so much to themselves, as to wish well to the
author, yet all will resent the ill characters you produce, out of fear
of their own turn in the licence you must be obliged to take, if you
point at particular persons." I took his admonition kindly, and
immediately promised him to beg pardon of the author of the "Advice to
the Poets,"[194] for my raillery upon his work; though I aimed at no
more in that examination, but to convince him, and all men of genius, of
the folly of laying themselves out on such plans as are below their
characters. I hope too it was done without ill-breeding, and nothing
spoken below what a civilian (as it is allowed I am) may utter to a
physician. After this preface, all the world may be safe from my
writings; for if I can find nothing to commend, I am silent, and will
forbear the subject: for, though I am a reformer, I scorn to be an
inquisitor.
It would become all men, as well as me, to lay before them the noble
character of Verus the magistrate,[195] who always sat in triumph over,
and contempt of, vice; he never searched after it, or spared it when it
came before him: at the same time, he could see through the hypocrisy
and disguise of those, who have no pretence to virtue themselves, but by
their severity to the vicious. This same Verus was, in times long past,
chief justice (as we call it amongst us) in Fælicia.[196] He was a man
of profound knowledge of the laws of his country, and as just an
observer of them in his own person. He considered justice as a cardinal
virtue, not as a trade for maintenance. Wherever he was judge, he never
forgot that he was also counsel. The criminal before him was always sure
he stood before his country, and, in a sort, a parent of it. The
prisoner knew, that though his spirit was broken with guilt, and
incapable of language to defend itself, all would be gathered from him
which could conduce to his safety; and that his judge would wrest no law
to destroy him, nor conceal any that could save him. In his time, there
were a nest of pretenders to justice, who happened to be employed to put
things in a method for being examined before him at his usual sessions:
these animals were to Verus, as monkeys are to men, so like, that you
can hardly disown them; but so base, that you are ashamed of their
fraternity. It grew a phrase, "Who would do justice on the justices?"
That certainly would Verus. I have seen an old trial where he sat judge
on two of them; one was called Trick-Track, the other Tearshift;[197]
one was a learned judge of sharpers, the other the quickest of all men
at finding out a wench. Trick-Track never spared a pickpocket, but was a
companion to cheats: Tearshift would make compliments to wenches of
quality, but certainly commit poor ones. If a poor rogue wanted a
lodging, Trick-Track sent him to gaol for a thief: if a poor whore went
only with one thin petticoat, Tearshift would imprison her for being
loose in her dress. These patriots infested the days of Verus, while
they alternately committed and released each other's prisoners. But
Verus regarded them as criminals, and always looked upon men as they
stood in the eye of justice, without respecting whether they sat on the
bench, or stood at the bar.