* * * * *
From my own Apartment, July 6.
I find among my brother's papers the following letter verbatim, which I
wonder how he could suppress so long as he has, since it was sent him
for no other end, but to show the good effect his writings have already
had upon the ill customs of the age.
"London, _June 23_.
"SIR,
"The end of all public papers ought to be the benefit and instruction,
as well as the diversion of the readers: to which I see none so truly
conducive as your late performances; especially those tending to the
rooting out from amongst us that unchristianlike and bloody custom of
duelling; which, that you have already in some measure performed, will
appear to the public in the following no less true than heroic story.
"A noble gentleman of this city, who has the honour of serving his
country as major in the train-bands, being at that general mart of
stockjobbers called Jonathan's,[378] endeavouring to raise himself (as
all men of honour ought) to the degree of colonel at least; it happened
that he bought the 'bear'[379] of another officer, who, though not
commissioned in the army, yet no less eminently serves the public than
the other, in raising the credit of the kingdom, by raising that of the
stocks. However, having sold the 'bear,' and words arising about the
delivery, the most noble major, no less scorning to be outwitted in the
coffee-house, than to run into the field, according to method, abused
the other with the titles of, 'rogue,' 'villain,' 'bearskin-man,' and
the like. Whereupon satisfaction was demanded, and accepted: so, forth
the major marched, commanding his adversary to follow. To a most
spacious room in the sheriff's house, near the place of quarrel, they
come; where, having due regard to what you have lately published, they
resolved not to shed one another's blood in that barbarous manner you
prohibited; yet, not willing to put up affronts without satisfaction,
they stripped, and in decent manner fought full fairly with their
wrathful hands. The combat lasted a quarter of an hour; in which time
victory was often doubtful, and many a dry blow was strenuously laid on
by each side, till the major finding his adversary obstinate, unwilling
to give him further chastisement, with most shrill voice cried out, 'I
am satisfied, enough.' Whereupon the combat ceased, and both were
friends immediately.
"Thus the world may see, how necessary it is to encourage those men who
make it their business to instruct the people in everything necessary
for their preservation. I am informed, a body of worthy citizens have
agreed on an address of thanks to you for what you have writ on the
foregoing subject, whereby they acknowledge one of their highly esteemed
officers preserved from death.
"Your humble Servant,
"A. B."
I fear the word "bear" is hardly to be understood among the polite
people; but I take the meaning to be, that one who ensures a real value
upon an imaginary thing, is said to sell a "bear," and is the same thing
as a promise among courtiers, or a vow between lovers. I have writ to my
brother to hasten to town; and hope, that printing the letters directed
to him, which I knew not how to answer, will bring him speedily; and
therefore I add also the following:
"_July 5_, 1709.
"MR. BICKERSTAFF,
You having hinted a generous intention of taking under your
consideration the whisperers without business, and laughers without
occasion; as you tender the welfare of your country, I entreat you not
to forget or delay so public-spirited a work. Now or never is the time.
Many other calamities may cease with the war; but I dismally dread the
multiplication of these mortals under the ease and luxuriousness of a
settled peace, half the blessing of which may be destroyed by them.
Their mistake lies certainly here, in a wretched belief, that their
mimicry passes for real business, or true wit. Dear sir, convince them,
that it never was, is, or ever will be, either of them; nor ever did,
does, or to all futurity ever can, look like either of them; but that it
is the most cursed disturbance in nature, which is possible to be
inflicted on mankind, under the noble definition of a sociable creature.
In doing this, sir, you will oblige more humble servants than can find
room to subscribe their names."
White's Chocolate-house, July 6.
In pursuance of my last date from hence, I am to proceed on the accounts
I promised of several personages among the men, whose conspicuous
fortunes, or ambition in showing their follies, have exalted them above
their fellows: the levity of their minds is visible in their every word
and gesture, and there is not a day passes but puts me in mind of Mr.
Wycherley's character of a coxcomb: "He is ugly all over with the
affectation of the fine gentleman." Now though the women may put on
softness in their looks, or affected severity, or impertinent gaiety, or
pert smartness, their self-love and admiration cannot, under any of
these disguises, appear so invincible as that of the men. You may easily
take notice, that in all their actions there is a secret approbation,
either in the tone of their voice, the turn of their body, or cast of
their eye, which shows that they are extremely in their own favour. Take
one of your men of business, he shall keep you half an hour with your
hat off, entertaining you with his consideration of that affair you
spoke of to him last, till he has drawn a crowd that observes you in
this grimace. Then when he is public enough, he immediately runs into
secrets, and falls a whispering. You and he make breaks with adverbs;
as, "But however, thus far"; and then you whisper again, and so on, till
they who are about you are dispersed, and your busy man's vanity is no
longer gratified by the notice taken of what importance he is, and how
inconsiderable you are; for your pretender to business is never in
secret, but in public. There is my dear Lord Nowhere, of all men the
most gracious and most obliging, the terror of all _valets-de-chambre_,
whom he oppresses with good breeding, in inquiring for my good lord, and
for my good lady's health. This inimitable courtier will whisper a privy
councillor's lackey with the utmost goodness and condescension, to know
when they next sit; and is thoroughly taken up, and thinks he has a part
in a secret, if he knows that there is a secret. "What it is," he will
whisper you, "that time will discover"; then he shrugs, and calls you
back again--"Sir, I need not say to you, that these things are not to be
spoken of--and hark you, no names, I would not be quoted." What adds to
the jest is, that his emptiness has its moods and seasons, and he will
not condescend to let you into these his discoveries, except he is in
very good humour, or has seen somebody in fashion talk to you. He will
keep his nothing to himself, and pass by and overlook as well as the
best of them; not observing that he is insolent when he is gracious, and
obliging when he is haughty. Show me a woman so inconsiderable as this
frequent character. But my mind (now I am in) turns to many no less
observable: thou dear Will Shoestring![380] I profess myself in love
with thee: how shall I speak thee? How shall I address thee? How shall I
draw thee? Thou dear outside! Will you be combing your wig,[381] playing
with your box, or picking your teeth? Or choosest thou rather to be
speaking; to be speaking for thy only purpose in speaking, to show your
teeth? Rub them no longer, dear Shoestring: do not premeditate murder:
do not for ever whiten: Oh! that for my quiet and his own they were
rotten. But I will forget him, and give my hand to the courteous Umbra;
he is a fine man indeed, but the soft creature bows below my
apron-string before he takes it; but after the first ceremonies, he is
as familiar as my physician, and his insignificancy makes me half ready
to complain to him of all I would to my doctor. But he is so courteous,
that he carries half the messages of ladies' ails in town to their
midwives and nurses. He understands too the art of medicine as far as to
the cure of a pimple or a rash. On occasions of the like importance, he
is the most assiduous of all men living, in consulting and searching
precedents from family to family; and then he speaks of his
obsequiousness and diligence in the style of real services. If you sneer
at him, and thank him for his great friendship, he bows, and says,
"Madam, all the good offices in my power, while I have any knowledge or
credit, shall be at your service." The consideration of so shallow a
being, and the intent application with which he pursues trifles, has
made me carefully reflect upon that sort of men we usually call an
Impertinent: and I am, upon mature deliberation, so far from being
offended with him, that I am really obliged to him; for though he will
take you aside, and talk half an hour to you upon matters wholly
insignificant with the most solemn air, yet I consider, that these
things are of weight in his imagination, and he thinks he is
communicating what is for my service. If therefore it be a just rule to
judge of a man by his intention, according to the equity of good
breeding, he that is impertinently kind or wise, to do you service,
ought in return to have a proportionable place both in your affection
and esteem; so that the courteous Umbra deserves the favour of all his
acquaintance; for though he never served them, he is ever willing to do
it, and believes he does it. But as impotent kindness is to be returned
with all our abilities to oblige, so impotent malice is to be treated
with all our force to depress it. For this reason Flyblow (who is
received in all the families in town through the degeneracy and iniquity
of their manners) is to be treated like a knave, though he is one of the
weakest of fools: he has by rote, and at second-hand, all that can be
said of any man of figure, wit, and virtue in town. Name a man of worth,
and this creature tells you the worst passage of his life. Speak of a
beautiful woman, and this puppy will whisper the next man to him, though
he has nothing to say of her. He is a Fly that feeds on the sore part,
and would have nothing to live on, if the whole body were in health. You
may know him by the frequency of pronouncing the particle "but"; for
which reason I never hear him spoke of with common charity, without
using my "but" against him: for a friend of mine saying the other day,
Mrs. Distaff has wit, good humour, virtue, and friendship, this oaf
added, "'But' she is not handsome." Coxcomb! The gentleman was saying
what I was, not what I was not.
St. James's Coffee-house, July 6.
The approaches before Tournay have been carried on with great success;
and our advices from the camp before that place of the 11th instant say,
that they had already made a lodgment on the glacis. Two hundred boats
were come up the Scheldt with a heavy artillery and ammunition, which
would be employed in dismounting the enemy's defences, and raised on the
batteries the 15th. A great body of miners are summoned to the camp to
countermine the works of the enemy. We are convinced of the weakness of
the garrison, by a certain account, that they called a council of war,
to consult whether it was not advisable to march into the citadel, and
leave the town defenceless. We are assured, that when the Confederate
army was advancing towards the camp of Marshal Villars, that general
despatched a courier to his master with a letter, giving an account of
their approach, which concluded with the following words: "The day
begins to break, and your Majesty's army is already in order of battle.
Before noon, I hope to have the honour of congratulating your Majesty on
the success of a great action; and you shall be very well satisfied with
the Marshal Villars."
It is to be noted, that when any part of this paper appears dull, there
is a design in it.[382]
[Footnote 377: See note to No. 36.]
[Footnote 378: A coffee-house in Change Alley. See _Spectator_, No. 1,
and Mrs. Centlivre's "Bold Stroke for a Wife."]
[Footnote 379: See No. 7.]
[Footnote 380: Sir William Whitlocke, Knt., Member for Oxon, Bencher of
the Middle Temple. He is the learned knight mentioned in No. 43 (Percy).
This is confirmed by the MS. annotator mentioned in a note to No. 4.
Nichols explains that Whitlocke is called Will Shoestring, for his
singularity in using shoe-strings, so long after the era of
shoe-buckles, which commenced in the reign of Charles II., although
ordinary people, and such as affected plainness in their garb, wore
strings in their shoes after that time.]
[Footnote 381: "Combing the peruke, at the time when men of fashion wore
large wigs, was even at public places an act of gallantry. The combs,
for this purpose, were of a very large size, of ivory or tortoise-shell,
curiously chased and ornamented, and were carried in the pocket as
constantly as the snuff-box. At Court, on the Mall, and in the boxes,
gentlemen conversed and combed their perukes "(Sir John Hawkins' "Hist,
of Music," vol. iv. p. 447, note). Cf. Dryden's prologue to "Almanzor
and Almahide":--
"But as when vizard mask appears in pit,
Straight every man who thinks himself a wit,
Perks up; and managing his comb with grace,
With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face."
And "The Fortune Hunters," act i. sc. 2 (1689): "He looked, indeed, and
sighed, and set his cravat-string, and sighed again, and combed his
periwig: sighed a third time, and then took snuff, I guess to show the
whiteness of his hand." See, too, Wycherley's "Love in a Wood," act iii.
sc. 1:--
"DAPPERWIT. Let me prune and flounce my perruque a little for her;
there's ne'er a young fellow in the town but will do as much for a mere
stranger in the play-house.
"RANGER. A wit's wig has the privilege of being uncombed in the very
play-house, or in the presence--
"DAPPERWIT. But not in the presence of his mistress; 'tis a greater
neglect of her than himself; pray lend me your comb.... She comes, she
comes; pray, your comb. (_Snatches_ RANGER'S _comb_.)"]
[Footnote 382: "Mrs. Distaff hath received the Dialogue dated Monday
evening, which she has sent forward to Mr. Bickerstaff at Maidenhead:
and in the meantime gives her service to the parties" (folio).]
No. 39. [STEELE.
By ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.
From _Thursday, July 7_, to _Saturday, July 9_, 1709.
* * * * *
Grecian Coffee-house, July 7.
As I am called forth by the immense love I bear to my fellow creatures,
and the warm inclination I feel within me, to stem, as far as I can, the
prevailing torrent of vice and ignorance; so I cannot more properly
pursue that noble impulse, than by setting forth the excellence of
virtue and knowledge in their native and beautiful colours. For this
reason I made my late excursion to Oxford, where those qualities appear
in their highest lustre, and are the only pretences to honour and
distinction: superiority is there given in proportion to men's
advancement in wisdom and learning; and that just rule of life is so
universally received among those happy people, that you shall see an
earl walk bareheaded to the son of the meanest artificer, in respect to
seven years more worth and knowledge than the nobleman is possessed of.
In other places they bow to men's fortunes, but here to their
understandings. It is not to be expressed, how pleasing the order, the
discipline, the regularity of their lives, is to a philosopher, who has,
by many years' experience in the world, learned to contemn everything
but what is revered in this mansion of select and well-taught spirits.
The magnificence of their palaces, the greatness of their revenues, the
sweetness of their groves and retirements, seem equally adapted for the
residence of princes and philosophers; and a familiarity with objects of
splendour, as well as places of recess, prepares the inhabitants with an
equanimity for their future fortunes, whether humble or illustrious. How
was I pleased when I looked round at St. Mary's, and could, in the faces
of the ingenious youth, see ministers of state, chancellors, bishops,
and judges. Here only is human life! Here only the life of man is a
rational being! Here men understand and are employed in works worthy
their noble nature. This transitory being passes away in an employment
not unworthy a future state, the contemplation of the great decrees of
Providence. Each man lives as if he were to answer the questions made to
Job, "Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?... Who
shut up the sea with doors, ... and said, Hitherto shalt thou come, and
no further?"[383] Such speculations make life agreeable, make death
welcome, But alas! I was torn from this noble society by the business of
this dirty mean world, and the cares of fortune: for I was obliged to be
in town against the 7th day of the term, and accordingly governed myself
by my Oxford Almanack, and came last night; but find, to my great
astonishment, that this ignorant town began the term on the 24th of the
last month, in opposition to all the learning and astronomy of the
famous university of which I have been speaking; according to which, the
term certainly was to commence on the 1st instant.[384] You may be sure,
a man who has turned his studies as I have, could not be mistaken in
point of time; for knowing I was to come to town in term, I examined the
passing moments very narrowly, and called an eminent astronomer to my
assistance. Upon very strict observation we found, that the cold has
been so severe this last winter (which is allowed to have a benumbing
quality), that it retarded the earth in moving round from Christmas to
this season full seven days and two seconds. My learned friend assured
me further, that the earth had lately received a shog from a comet that
crossed its vortex, which, if it had come ten degrees nearer us, had
made us lose this whole term. I was indeed once of opinion, that the
Gregorian computation was the most regular, as being eleven days before
the Julian; but am now fully convinced, that we ought to be seven days
after the chancellor and judges, and eighteen before the Pope of Rome;
and that the Oxonian computation is the best of the three. These are the
reasons which I have gathered from philosophy and nature; to which I can
add other circumstances in vindication of the account of this learned
body who published this almanack. It is notorious to philosophers, that
joy and grief can hasten and delay time. Mr. Locke is of opinion, that a
man in great misery may so far lose his measure, as to think a minute an
hour; or in joy, make an hour a minute. Let us examine the present case
by this rule, and we shall find, that the cause of this general mistake
in the British nation, has been the great success of the last campaign,
and the following hopes of peace. Stocks ran so high at the 'Change,
that the citizens had gained three days of the courtiers; and we have
indeed been so happy this reign, that if the University did not rectify
our mistakes, we should think ourselves but in the second year of her
present Majesty. It would be endless to enumerate the many damages that
have happened by this ignorance of the vulgar. All the recognisances
within the Diocese of Oxford have been forfeited, for not appearing on
the first day of this fictitious term. The University has been nonsuited
in their action against the booksellers for printing Clarendon in
quarto. But indeed what gives me the most quick concern, is the case of
a poor gentleman my friend, who was the other day taken in execution by
a set of ignorant bailiffs. He should, it seems, have pleaded in the
first week of term; but being a Master of Arts of Oxford, he would not
recede from the Oxonian computation. He showed Mr. Broad the almanack,
and the very day when the term began; but the merciless ignorant fellow,
against all sense and learning, would hurry him away. He went indeed
quietly enough; but he has taken exact notes of the time of arrest, and
sufficient witnesses of his being carried into gaol; and has, by advice
of the Recorder of Oxford, brought his action; and we doubt not but we
shall pay them off with damages, and blemish the reputation of Mr.
Broad. We have one convincing proof, which all that frequent the Courts
of Justice are witnesses of: the dog that comes constantly to
Westminster on the first day of the term, did not appear till the first
day according to the Oxford Almanack; whose instinct I take to be a
better guide than men's erroneous opinions, which are usually biased by
interest. I judge in this case, as King Charles II. victualled his navy,
with the bread which one of his dogs chose of several pieces thrown
before him, rather than trust to the asseverations of the victuallers.
Mr. Cowper,[385] and other learned counsel, have already urged the
authority of this almanack, in behalf of their clients. We shall
therefore go on with all speed in our cause; and doubt not, but Chancery
will give at the end what we lost in the beginning, by protracting the
term for us till Wednesday come se'nnight: and the University orator
shall for ever pray, &c.
From my own Apartment, July 7.
The subject of duels[386] has, I find, been started with so good
success, that it has been the frequent subject of conversation among
polite men; and a dialogue of that kind has been transmitted to me
verbatim, as follows. The persons concerned in it are men of honour, and
experience in the manners of men, and have fallen upon the truest
foundation, as well as searched the bottom, of this evil.
Mr. SAGE. If it were in my power, every man that drew his sword, unless
in the Service, or purely to defend his life, person, or goods, from
violence (I mean abstracted from all punctos or whims of honour) should
ride the wooden horse in the Tilt Yard[387] for such first offence, for
the second stand in the pillory, and for the third be prisoner in Bedlam
for life.
Col. PLUME. I remember, that a rencounter or duel was so far from being
in fashion among the officers that served in the Parliament army, that
on the contrary, it was as disreputable, and as great an impediment to
advancement in the Service, as being bashful in time of action.
Sir MARK. Yet I have been informed by some old Cavaliers, of famous
reputation for brave and gallant men, that they were much more in mode
among their party, than they have been during this last war.
Col. PLUME. That is true too, sir. Mr. SAGE. By what you say,
gentlemen, one should think that our present military officers are
compounded of an equal proportion of both those tempers; since duels are
neither quite discountenanced, nor much in vogue.
Sir MARK. That difference of temper, in regard to duels, which appears
to have been between the Court and Parliament-men of the sword, was not
(I conceive) for want of courage in the latter, nor of a liberal
education; because there were some of the best families in England
engaged in that party; but gallantry and mode, which glitter agreeably
to the imagination, were encouraged by the Court, as promoting its
splendour; and it was as natural that the contrary party (who were to
recommend themselves to the public for men of serious and solid parts)
should deviate from everything chimerical.
Mr. SAGE. I have never read of a duel among the Romans; and yet their
nobility used more liberty with their tongues than one may do now
without being challenged.
Sir MARK. Perhaps the Romans were of opinion, that ill language, and
brutal manners, reflected only on those who were guilty of them; and
that a man's reputation was not at all cleared by cutting the person's
throat who had reflected upon it: but the custom of those times had
fixed the scandal in the action; whereas now it lies in the reproach.
Mr. SAGE. And yet the only sort of duel that one can conceive to have
been fought upon motives truly honourable and allowable, was that
between the Horatii and Curiatii.
Sir MARK. Colonel Plume, pray what was the method of single combat in
your time among the Cavaliers? I suppose, that as the use of clothes
continues, though the fashion of them has been mutable; so duels,
though still in use, have had in all times their particular modes of
performance.
Col. PLUME. We had no constant rule, but generally conducted our dispute
and tilt according to the last that had happened between persons of
reputation among the very top fellows for bravery and gallantry.
Sir MARK. If the fashion of quarrelling and tilting was so often changed
in your time, Colonel Plume, a man might fight, yet lose his credit for
want of understanding the fashion.
Col. PLUME. Why, Sir Mark, in the beginning of July, a man would have
been censured for want of courage, or been thought indigent of the true
notions of honour, if he had put up [with] words, which in the end of
September following, one could not resent without passing for a brutal
and quarrelsome fellow.
Sir MARK. But, Colonel, were duels or rencounters most in fashion in
those days?
Col. PLUME. Your men of nice honour, sir, were for avoiding all censure
of advantage which they supposed might be taken in a rencounter;
therefore they used seconds, who were to see that all was upon the
square, and make a faithful report of the whole combat; but in a little
time it became a fashion for the seconds to fight, and I'll tell you how
it happened.
Mr. SAGE. Pray do, Colonel Plume, and the method of a duel at that time,
and give us some notion of the punctos upon which your nice men
quarrelled in those days.
Col. PLUME. I was going to tell you, Mr. Sage, that one Cornet Modish
had desired his friend, Captain Smart's, opinion in some affair, but did
not follow it; upon which Captain Smart sent Major Adroit (a very
topping fellow of those times) to the person that had slighted his
advice. The Major never inquired into the quarrel, because it was not
the manner then among the very topping fellows; but got two swords of an
equal length, and then waited upon Cornet Modish, desiring him to choose
his sword, and meet his friend Captain Smart. Cornet Modish came with
his friend to the place of combat; there the principals put on their
pumps, and stripped to their shirts, to show they had nothing but what
men of honour carry about them, and then engaged.
Sir MARK. And did the seconds stand by, sir?
Col. PLUME. It was a received custom till that time; but the swords of
those days being pretty long, and the principals acting on both sides
upon the defensive, and the morning being frosty, Major Adroit desired
that the other second, who was also a very topping fellow, would try a
thrust or two only to keep them warm, till the principals had decided
the matter, which was agreed to by Modish's second, who presently
whipped Adroit through the body, disarmed him, and then parted the
principals, who had received no harm at all.
Mr. SAGE. But was not Adroit laughed at?
Col. PLUME. On the contrary, the very topping fellows were ever after of
opinion, that no man who deserved that character, could serve as a
second, without fighting; and the Smarts and Modishes finding their
account in it, the humour took without opposition.
Mr. SAGE. Pray, Colonel, how long did that fashion continue?
Col. PLUME, Not long neither, Mr. Sage; for as soon as it became a
fashion, the very topping fellows thought their honour reflected upon,
if they did not proffer themselves as seconds when any of their friends
had a quarrel; so that sometimes there were a dozen of a side.
Sir MARK. Bless me! If that custom had continued, we should have been
at a loss now for our very pretty fellows; for they seem to be the
proper men to officer, animate, and keep up an army: but, pray, sir, how
did that sociable manner of tilting grow out of mode?
Col. PLUME. Why, sir, I'll tell you; it was a law among the combatants,
that the party which happened to have the first man disarmed or killed,
should yield as vanquished; which some people thought might encourage
the Modishes and Smarts in quarrelling, to the destruction of only the
very topping fellows; and as soon as this reflection was started, the
very topping fellows thought it an incumbrance upon their honour to
fight at all themselves. Since that time, the Modishes and the Smarts,
throughout all Europe, have extolled the French king's edict.
Sir MARK. Our very pretty fellows, whom I take to be the successors of
the very topping fellows, think a quarrel so little fashionable, that
they will not be exposed to it by another man's vanity, or want of
sense.
Mr. SAGE. But, Colonel, I have observed in your account of duels, that
there was a great exactness in avoiding all advantage that might
possibly be between the combatants.
Col. PLUME. That's true, sir; for the weapons were always equal.
Mr. SAGE. Yes, sir; but suppose an active, adroit, strong man, had
insulted an awkward, or a feeble, or an unpractised swordsman.
Col. PLUME. Then, sir, they fought with pistols.
Mr. SAGE. But, sir, there might be a certain advantage that way; for a
good marksman will be sure to hit his man at twenty yards distance; and
a man whose hand shakes (which is common to men that debauch in
pleasures, or have not used pistols out of their holsters) won't
venture to fire, unless he touches the person he shoots at. Now, sir, I
am of opinion, that one can get no honour in killing a man (if one has
it all rug,[388] as the gamesters say), when they have a trick to make
the game secure, though they seem to play upon the square.
Sir MARK. In truth, Mr. Sage, I think such a fact must be murder in a
man's own private conscience, whatever it may appear to the world.
Col. PLUME. I have known some men so nice, that they would not fight but
upon a cloak without pistols.
Mr. SAGE. I believe a custom, well established, would outdo the Grand
Monarch's edict.[389]
Sir MARK. And bullies would then leave off their long swords; but I
don't find that a very pretty fellow can stay to change his sword, when
he is insulted by a bully with a long diego,[390] though his own at the
same time be no longer than a penknife; which will certainly be the
case, if such little swords are in mode. Pray, Colonel, how was it
between the hectors of your time and the very topping fellows?
Col. PLUME. Sir, long swords happened to be generally worn in those
times.
Mr. SAGE. In answer to what you were saying, Sir Mark, give me leave to
inform you, that your knights-errant (who were the very pretty fellows
of those ancient times) thought they could not honourably yield, though
they had fought their own trusty weapons to the stumps; but would
venture as boldly with the page's leaden sword, as if it had been of
enchanted metal. Whence I conceive, there must be a spice of romantic
gallantry in the composition of that very pretty fellow.
Sir MARK. I am of opinion, Mr. Sage, that fashion governs a very pretty
fellow; nature, or common sense, your ordinary persons, and sometimes
men of fine parts.
Mr. SAGE. But what is the reason, that men of the most excellent sense
and morals (in other points) associate their understandings with the
very pretty fellows in that chimæra of a duel?
Sir MARK. There's no disputing against so great a majority.
Mr. SAGE. But there is one scruple (Colonel Plume) and I have done:
don't you believe there may be some advantage even upon a cloak with
pistols, which a man of nice honour would scruple to take?
Col. PLUME. Faith, I can't tell, sir; but since one may reasonably
suppose, that (in such a case) there can be but one so far in the wrong
as to occasion matters to come to that extremity, I think the chance of
being killed should fall but on one; whereas by their close and
desperate manner of fighting, it may very probably happen to both.
Sir MARK. Why, gentlemen, if they are men of such nice honour (and must
fight), there will be no fear of foul play, if they threw up cross or
pile[391] who should be shot.
[Footnote 383: Job xxxviii. 4, 8, 11.]
[Footnote 384: There was a difference between the University terms and
the Law terms.]
[Footnote 385: Spencer Cowper (1669-1727), brother of Earl Cowper, and
afterwards a judge of the Common Pleas. He was one of the managers of
the impeachment of Sacheverell in 1710.]
[Footnote 386: See Nos. 25, 26, 29, 31, 38, 205.]
[Footnote 387: At Whitehall.]
[Footnote 388: _Cf._ "Wentworth Papers," p. 394: "June 29, 1714. The
changes at Court does not go so rug as some people expected and gave
out, that 'twas to be all intire Tory with the least seeming mixture of
Whigs."]
[Footnote 389: See _Spectator_, No. 97.]
[Footnote 390: A sword. Don Diego was a familiar name for a Spaniard
with both English and French writers in the seventeenth century. San
Diego is a corruption of Santiago (St. James), the patron saint of
Spain.]
[Footnote 391: A pillar, the design on one side of a coin, bearing on
the other a cross. Swift says, "This I humbly conceive to be perfect
boys' play; cross, I win, and pile, you lose."]
No. 40. [STEELE.
From _Saturday, July 9_, to _Tuesday, July 12_, 1709.
* * * * *
Will's Coffee-house, July 11.
Letters from the city of London give an account of a very great
consternation that place is in at present, by reason of a late inquiry
made at Guildhall, whether a noble person[392] has parts enough to
deserve the enjoyment of the great estate of which he is possessed. The
city is apprehensive that this precedent may go further than was at
first imagined. The person against whom this inquisition is set up by
his relations, is a peer of a neighbouring kingdom, and has in his youth
made some few bulls, by which it is insinuated, that he has forfeited
his goods and chattels. This is the more astonishing, in that there are
many persons in the said city who are still more guilty than his
lordship, and who, though they are idiots, do not only possess, but have
also themselves acquired great estates, contrary to the known laws of
this realm, which vests their possessions in the Crown. There is a
gentleman of this coffee-house at this time exhibiting a bill in
Chancery against his father's younger brother, who by some strange magic
has arrived at the value of half a plum, as the citizens call a hundred
thousand pounds; and in all the time of growing up to that wealth, was
never known in any of his ordinary words or actions to discover any
proof of reason. Upon this foundation my friend has set forth, that he
is illegally master of his coffers, and has writ two epigrams to signify
his own pretensions and sufficiency for spending that estate. He has
inserted in his plea some things which I fear will give offence; for he
pretends to argue, that though a man has a little of the knave mixed
with the fool, he is nevertheless liable to the loss of goods; and makes
the abuse of reason as just an avoidance of an estate as the total
absence of it. This is what can never pass; but witty men are so full of
themselves, that there is no persuading them; and my friend will not be
convinced, but that upon quoting Solomon, who always used the word
"fool" as a term of the same signification with "unjust," and makes all
deviation from goodness and virtue to come under the notion of folly--I
say, he doubts not, but by the force of this authority, let his idiot
uncle appear never so great a knave, he shall prove him a fool at the
same time. This affair led the company here into an examination of these
points; and none coming here but wits, what was asserted by a young
lawyer, that a lunatic is in the care of the Chancery, but a fool in
that of the Crown, was received with general indignation. "Why that?"
says old Renault. "Why that? Why must a fool be a courtier more than a
madman? This is the iniquity of this dull age: I remember the time when
it went on the mad side; all your top wits were scowrers,[393] rakes,
roarers, and demolishers of windows. I remember a mad lord who was drunk
five years together, and was the envy of that age, and is faintly
imitated by the dull pretenders to vice and madness in this. Had he
lived to this day, there had not been a fool in fashion in the whole
kingdom." When Renault had done speaking, a very worthy man assumed the
discourse: "This is," said he, "Mr. Bickerstaff, a proper argument for
you to treat in your article from this place; and if you would send your
Pacolet into all our brains, you would find, that a little fibre or
valve, scarce discernible, makes the distinction between a politician
and an idiot. We should therefore throw a veil upon those unhappy
instances of human nature, who seem to breathe without the direction of
reason and understanding, as we should avert our eyes with abhorrence
from such as live in perpetual abuse and contradiction to these noble
faculties. Shall this unfortunate man be divested of his estate, because
he is tractable and indolent, runs in no man's debt, invades no man's
bed, nor spends the estate he owes his children and his character; when
one who shows no sense above him, but in such practices, shall be
esteemed in his senses, and possibly may pretend to the guardianship of
him who is no ways his inferior, but in being less wicked? We see old
age brings us indifferently into the same impotence of soul, wherein
nature has placed this lord. There is something very fantastical in the
distribution of civil power and capacity among men. The law certainly
gives these persons into the ward and care of the Crown, because that is
best able to protect them from injuries, and the impositions of craft
and knavery; that the life of an idiot may not ruin the entail of a
noble house, and his weakness may not frustrate the industry or capacity
of the founder of his family. But when one of bright parts, as we say,
with his eyes open, and all men's eyes upon him, destroys those
purposes, there is no remedy. Folly and ignorance are punished! Folly
and guilt are tolerated! Mr. Locke has somewhere made a distinction
between a madman and a fool:[394] a fool is he that from right
principles makes a wrong conclusion; but a madman is one who draws a
just inference from false principles. Thus the fool who cut off the
fellow's head that lay asleep, and hid it, and then waited to see what
he would say when he awakened and missed his headpiece, was in the right
in the first thought, that a man would be surprised to find such an
alteration in things since he fell asleep; but he was a little mistaken
to imagine he could awake at all after his head was off. A madman
fancies himself a prince; but upon his mistake, he acts suitably to that
character; and though he is out in supposing he has principalities,
while he drinks gruel, and lies in straw, yet you shall see him keep the
port of a distressed monarch in all his words and actions. These two
persons are equally taken into custody: but what must be done to half
this good company, who every hour of their life are knowingly and
wittingly both fools and madmen, and yet have capacities both of forming
principles, and drawing conclusions, with the full use of reason?"
From my own Apartment, July 11.
This evening some ladies came to visit my sister Jenny; and the
discourse, after very many frivolous and public matters, turned upon the
main point among the women, the passion of love.[395] Sappho, who always
leads on this occasion, began to show her reading, and told us, that Sir
John Suckling and Milton had, upon a parallel occasion, said the
tenderest things she had ever read. "The circumstance," said she, "is
such as gives us a notion of that protecting part which is the duty of
men in their honourable designs upon, or possession of, women. In
Suckling's tragedy of 'Brennoralt' he makes the lover steal into his
mistress's bedchamber, and draw the curtains; then, when his heart is
full of her charms, as she lies sleeping, instead of being carried away
by the violence of his desires into thoughts of a warmer nature, sleep,
which is the image of death, gives this generous lover reflections of a
different kind, which regard rather her safety than his own passion.
For, beholding her as she lies sleeping, he utters these words:
_"So misers look upon their gold,
Which, while they joy to see, they fear to lose:
The pleasure of the sight scarce equalling
The jealousy of being dispossessed by others.
Her face is like the Milky Way i' th' sky,
A meeting of gentle lights without name!
"Heavens I shall this fresh ornament of the world,
These precious love-lines, pass with other common things
Amongst the wastes of time? what pity 'twere!_[396]
"When Milton makes Adam leaning on his arm, beholding Eve, and lying in
the contemplation of her beauty, he describes the utmost tenderness and
guardian affection in one word:
"_Adam with looks of cordial love
Hung over her enamoured._[397]
"This is that sort of passion which truly deserves the name of 'love,'
and has something more generous than friendship itself; for it has a
constant care of the object beloved, abstracted from its own interests
in the possession of it." Sappho was proceeding on the subject, when my
sister produced a letter sent to her in the time of my absence, in
celebration of the marriage state, which is the condition wherein only
this sort of passion reigns in full authority. The epistle is as
follows:
"DEAR MADAM,
"Your brother being absent, I dare take the liberty of writing to you my
thoughts of that state, which our whole sex either is or desires to be
in: you'll easily guess I mean matrimony, which I hear so much decried,
that it was with no small labour I maintained my ground against two
opponents; but, as your brother observed of Socrates, I drew them into
my conclusion from their own concessions; thus:
_"In marriage are two happy things allowed,
A wife in wedding-sheets, and in a shroud.
How can a marriage state then be accursed,
Since the last day's as happy as the first?_
"If you think they were too easily confuted, you may conclude them not
of the first sense, by their talking against marriage.
"Yours,
"MARIANA."
I observed Sappho began to redden at this epistle; and turning to a
lady, who was playing with a dog she was so fond of as to carry him
abroad with her; "Nay," says she, "I cannot blame the men if they have
mean ideas of our souls and affections, and wonder so many are brought
to take us for companions for life, when they see our endearments so
triflingly placed: for, to my knowledge, Mr. Truman would give half his
estate for half the affection you have shown to that Shock: nor do I
believe you would be ashamed to confess, that I saw you cry, when he had
the colic last week with lapping sour milk. What more could you do for
your lover himself?" "What more!" replied the lady, "there is not a man
in England for whom I could lament half so much." Then she stifled the
animal with kisses, and called him, Beau, Life, Dear, Monsieur, Pretty
Fellow, and what not, in the hurry of her impertinence. Sappho rose up;
as she always does at anything she observes done, which discovers in her
own sex a levity of mind, which renders them inconsiderable in the
opinion of others.
St. James's Coffee-house, July 11.
Letters from the Hague of the 16th instant, N.S., say, that the siege of
Tournay went on with all imaginable success; and that there has been no
manner of stop given to the attempts of the Confederates since they
undertook it, except that by an accident of firing a piece of ordnance,
it burst, and killed fifteen or sixteen men. The French army is still
in the camp of Lens, and goes on in improving their entrenchments. When
the last advices came away, it was believed the town of Tournay would be
in the hands of the Confederates by the end of this month. Advices from
Brussels inform us, that they have an account of a great action between
the malcontents in the Vivarez, and the French king's forces under the
command of the Duke of Roquelaure, in which engagement there were
eighteen hundred men killed on the spot. They add, that all sorts of
people who are under any oppression or discontent do daily join the
Vivarois; and that their present body of men in arms consisted of six
thousand. This sudden insurrection has put the Court of France under
great difficulties; and the king has given orders, that the main body of
his troops in Spain shall withdraw into his own dominions, where they
are to be quartered in such countries as have of late discovered an
inclination to take up arms: the calamities of that kingdom being such,
that the people are not by any means to be kept in obedience, except by
the terror of military execution. What makes the distresses still
greater, is, that the Court begins to be doubtful of their troops, some
regiments in the action in the Cevennes having faced about against their
officers; and after the battle was over, joined the malcontents. Upon
receiving advice of this battle, the Duke of Berwick detached twelve
battalions into those parts, and began to add new works to his
entrenchments near Briançon, in order to defend his camp, after being
weakened by sending so great a reinforcement into the Cevennes. Letters
from Spain say, that the Duchess of Anjou was lately delivered of a
second son. They write from Madrid of the 25th of June, that the
blockade of Olivenza was continued; but acknowledge, that the late
provisions which were thrown into the place, make them doubt whether
they shall be masters of it this campaign; though it is at present so
closely blocked up, that it appears impracticable to send in any more
stores or succours. They are preparing with all expedition to repair the
fortifications of Alicante, for the security of the kingdom of Valencia.
[Footnote 392: It appears from Luttrell's "Brief Relation," that in Feb.
1707, Commissioners sat in the Exchequer Room at Westminster to try
whether Viscount Wenman, "aged 19, of £5000 per annum estate in
Oxfordshire," were an idiot or not. On the 14th February the Commission
was superseded. In June 1709, a new Commission passed the Great Seal for
inquiring into the Viscount's idiocy, and on July 29 they found that he
was no idiot. On July 12, Peter Wentworth wrote thus to Lord Raby: "The
prosecution of Lord Wainman is now order'd again, upon wch the _Tatler_
is to day; the accation I am told is this, that last year when there was
a stopt put to't 'twas upon the intercession lady Wainman the mother
made to the Queen, and that she designed to marry her son, the fool, to
Sir John Packington's daughter, 'twas then said that my Lady her self
had married her Butler, wch the Queen desired her to tell the truth, and
she did assure the Queen upon her word and honour,'twas false, and she
never intended any such thing, but of late she has own her marriage to
that same Butler, and put off the match with Sir John P----daughter, and
married him to her husband's sister, wch they say the Queen is angry at
and therefore this fresh prosecution is order'd" ("Wentworth Papers," p.
93). Lord Wenman, the fifth Viscount, was born in 1687, married
Susannah, daughter of Seymour Wroughton, Esq., in 1709, and died in
1729. Lord Wenman's brother-in-law, Francis Wroughton, was also his
father-in-law, for he had married, in 1699, as her third husband, the
Viscount's mother, the Countess of Abingdon.]
[Footnote 393: The Scowrers and Roarers were the forerunners of the
Mohocks of 1712. Shadwell wrote a play called "The Scowrers," and often
alludes to the window-breakers of his time. See Gay's "Trivia," iii.
325:
"Who has not heard the Scowrer's midnight fame?
Who has not trembled at the Mohock's name?"
]
[Footnote 394: "Essay concerning Human Understanding," chap. xii. sect.
14.]
[Footnote 395: See Nos. 6, 35.]
[Footnote 396: "Brennoralt," act iii.]
[Footnote 397: "Paradise Lost," iv. 12, 13.]
No. 41. [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, July 12_, to _Thursday, July 14_, 1709.
Celebrare domestica facta.
* * * * *
White's Chocolate-house, July 12.
There is no one thing more to be lamented in our nation, than their
general affectation of everything that is foreign; nay, we carry it so
far, that we are more anxious for our own countrymen when they have
crossed the seas, than when we see them in the same dangerous condition
before our eyes at home: else how is it possible, that on the 29th of
the last month, there should have been a battle fought in our very
streets of London, and nobody at this end of the town have heard of it?
I protest, I, who make it my business to inquire after adventures,
should never have known this, had not the following account been sent me
enclosed in a letter. This, it seems, is the way of giving out of orders
in the Artillery Company;[398] and they prepare for a day of action with
so little concern, as only to call it, "An Exercise of Arms."
"An Exercise at Arms of the Artillery Company, to be performed on
Wednesday, June 29, 1709, under the command of Sir Joseph Woolfe, Knight
and Alderman, General; Charles Hopson, Esquire, present Sheriff,
Lieutenant-General; Captain Richard Synge, Major; Major John Shorey,
Captain of Grenadiers; Captain William Grayhurst, Captain John Buttler,
Captain Robert Carellis, Captains.
"The body march from the Artillery Ground through Moorgate, Coleman
Street, Lothbury, Broad Street, Finch Lane, Cornhill, Cheapside, St.
Martin's, St. Anne's Lane, halt the pikes under the wall in Noble
Street, draw up the firelocks facing the Goldsmiths' Hall, make ready
and face to the left, and fire, and so ditto three times. Beat to arms,
and march round the hall, as up Lad Lane, Gutter Lane, Honey Lane, and
so wheel to the right, and make your salute to my lord, and so down St.
Anne's Lane, up Aldersgate Street, Barbican, and draw up in Red Cross
Street, the right at St. Paul's Alley in the rear. March off
Lieutenant-General with half the body up Beech Lane: he sends a
subdivision up King's Head Court, and takes post in it, and marches two
divisions round into Red Lion Market, to defend that pass, and succour
the division in King's Head Court, but keeps in White Cross Street,
facing Beech Lane, the rest of the body ready drawn up. Then the General
marches up Beech Lane, is attacked, but forces the division in the court
into the market, and enters with three divisions while he presses the
Lieutenant-General's main body; and at the same time, the three
divisions force those of the revolters out of the market, and so all the
Lieutenant-General's body retreats into Chiswell Street, and lodges two
divisions in Grub Street; and as the General marches on, they fall on
his flank, but soon made to give way; but having a retreating place in
Red Lion Court, but could not hold it, being put to flight through
Paul's Alley, and pursued by the General's grenadiers, while he marches
up and attacks their main body, but are opposed again by a party of men
as lay in Black Raven Court; but they are forced also to retire soon in
the utmost confusion; and at the same time those brave divisions in
Paul's Alley ply their rear with grenadiers, that with precipitation
they take to the rout along Bunhill Row: so the General marches into the
Artillery Ground, and being drawn up, finds the revolting party to have
found entrance, and makes a show as if for a battle, and both armies
soon engage in form, and fire by platoons."
Much might be said for the improvement of this system; which, for its
style and invention, may instruct generals and their historians, both in
fighting a battle, and describing it when it is over. These elegant
expressions, "Ditto," "And so," "But soon," "But having," "But could
not," "But are," "But they," "Finds the party to have found," &c., do
certainly give great life and spirit to the relation. Indeed I am
extremely concerned for the Lieutenant-General, who, by his overthrow
and defeat, is made a deplorable instance of the fortune of war, and
vicissitudes of human affairs. He, alas! has lost in Beech Lane and
Chiswell Street, all the glory he lately gained in and about Holborn and
St. Giles's. The art of subdividing first, and dividing afterwards, is
new and surprising; and according to this method, the troops are
disposed in King's Head Court and Red Lion Market: nor is the conduct of
these leaders less conspicuous in their choice of the ground or field of
battle. Happy was it, that the greatest part of the achievements of this
day was to be performed near Grub Street,[399] that there might not be
wanting a sufficient number of faithful historians, who being
eye-witnesses of these wonders, should impartially transmit them to
posterity: but then it can never be enough regretted, that we are left
in the dark as to the name and title of that extraordinary hero who
commanded the divisions in Paul's Alley; especially because those
divisions are justly styled brave, and accordingly were to push the
enemy along Bunhill Row, and thereby occasion a general battle. But
Pallas appeared in the form of a shower of rain, and prevented the
slaughter and desolation which were threatened by these extraordinary
preparations.
_Hi motus animorum atque hæc certamina tanta
Pulveris exigui jactu compressa quiescunt._[400]
Will's Coffee-house, July 13.
Some part of the company keep up the old way of conversation in this
place, which usually turned upon the examination of nature, and an
inquiry into the manners of men. There is one in the room so very
judicious, that he manages impertinents with the utmost dexterity. It
was diverting this evening to hear a discourse between him and one of
these gentlemen. He told me before that person joined us, that he was a
questioner, who, according to his description, is one who asks
questions, not with a design to receive information, but an affectation
to show his uneasiness for want of it. He went on in asserting, that
there are crowds of that modest ambition, as to aim no farther than to
demonstrate that they are in doubt. But by this time Will Why-not was
sat down by us. "So, gentlemen," says he, "in how many days, think you,
shall we be masters of Tournay? Is the account of the action of the
Vivarois to be depended upon? Could you have imagined England had so
much money in it, as you see it has produced? Pray, sirs, what do you
think? Will the Duke of Savoy make an eruption into France? But," says
he, "time will clear all these mysteries." His answer to himself gave me
the altitude of his head, and to all his questions I thus answered very
satisfactorily: "Sir, have you heard that this Slaughterford[401] never
owned the fact for which he died? Have the newspapers mentioned that
matter? But, pray, can you tell me what method will be taken to provide
for these Palatines?[402] But this, as you say, time will clear." "Ay,
ay," says he, and whispers me, "they will never let us into these things
beforehand." I whispered him again, "We shall know it as soon as there
is a proclamation." He tells me in the other ear, "You are in the right
of it." Then he whispered my friend to know what my name was; then made
an obliging bow, and went to examine another table. This led my friend
and me to weigh this wandering manner in many other incidents, and he
took out of his pockets several little notes or tickets to solicit for
votes to employments: as, "Mr. John Taplash having served all offices,
and being reduced to great poverty, desires your vote for singing clerk
of this parish." Another "has had ten children, all whom his wife has
suckled herself; therefore humbly desires to be a schoolmaster." There
is nothing so frequent as this way of application for offices. It is not
that you are fit for the place, but because the place would be
convenient for you, that you claim a merit to it. But commend me to the
great Kirleus,[403] who has lately set up for midwifery, and to help
childbirth, for no other reason, but that he is himself the Unborn
Doctor. The way is to hit upon something that puts the vulgar upon the
stare, or that touches their compassion, which is often the weakest part
about us. I know a good lady, who has taken her daughters from their old
dancing-master, to place them with another, for no other reason, but
because the new man has broke his leg, which is so ill set, that he can
never dance more.
From my own Apartment, July 13.
As it is a frequent mortification to me to receive letters, wherein
people tell me, without a name, they know I meant them in such and such
a passage; so that very accusation is an argument, that there are such
beings in human life, as fall under our description and our discourse,
is not altogether fantastical and groundless. But in this case I am
treated as I saw a boy was the other day, who gave out poxy bills: every
plain fellow took it that passed by, and went on his way without further
notice: at last came one with his nose a little abridged; who knocks the
lad down, with a, "Why, you son of a w----e, do you think I am p----d?"
But Shakespeare has made the best apology for this way of talking
against the public errors: he makes Jaques, in the play called "As You
Like It," express himself thus:
_Why, who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?
What woman in the city do I name,
When that I say the city woman bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
Who can come in and say that I mean her,
When such a one as she, such is her neighbour?
Or, what is he of basest function,
That says his bravery is not on my cost?
Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits
His folly to the mettle of my speech.
There then! How then? Then let me see wherein
My tongue hath wronged him: if it do him right,
Then he hath wronged himself: if he be free,
Why then my taxing like a wild goose flies,
Unclaimed of any man._[404]
St. James's Coffee-house, July 13.
We have received, by letters of the 18th instant from the camp before
Tournay, an account, that we were in a fair prospect of being masters of
the town within seven days after that date. Our batteries had utterly
overthrown those of the enemy. On the 16th instant, N.S., General
Schuylemburg had made a lodgment on the counterscarp of the Tenaille;
which post was so weakly defended, that we lost but six men in gaining
it. So that there seems reason to hope, that the citadel will also be in
the hands of the Confederates about the 6th of August, O.S. These
advices inform us further, that Marshal Villars had ordered large
detachments to make motions towards Douay and Condé. The swift progress
of this siege has so much alarmed the other frontier towns of France,
that they were throwing down some houses in the suburbs of Valenciennes,
which they think may stand commodiously for the enemy in case that place
should be invested. The Elector of Cologne is making all imaginable
haste to remove from thence to Rheims.
[Footnote 398: See Nos. 28, 38.]
[Footnote 399: Grub Street, Cripplegate (now Milton Street), became,
towards the end of the seventeenth century, the abode of what Johnson
calls "writers of small histories, dictionaries and temporary poems;
whence any mean production is called Grub Street."]
[Footnote 400: Virgil, "Georgics," iv. 86.]
[Footnote 401: The _Flying Post_ records that one Slaughterford was
sentenced to death on July 2, 1709, for murdering his sweetheart.]
[Footnote 402: See Nos. 24, 51.]
[Footnote 403: See No. 14.]
[Footnote 404: "As You Like It," act ii. sc. 7.]
No. 42. [STEELE AND ADDISON.
From _Thursday, July 14, to Saturday, July 16_, 1709.
Celebrare domestica facta.
* * * * *
From my own Apartment, July 15.
Looking over some old papers, I found a little treatise, written by my
great-grandfather, concerning bribery, and thought his manner of
treating that subject not unworthy my remark. He there has a digression
concerning a possibility, that in some circumstances a man may receive
an injury, and yet be conscious to himself that he deserves it. There
are abundance of fine things said on the subject; but the whole wrapped
up in so much jingle and pun (which was the wit of those times) that it
is scarce intelligible; but I thought the design was well enough in the
following sketch of the old gentleman's poetry: for in this case, where
two are rivals for the same thing, and propose to attain it by presents,
he that attempts the judge's honesty, by making him offers of reward,
ought not to complain when he loses his cause for a better bidder. But
the good old doggerel runs thus:[405]
_A poor man once a judge besought,
To judge aright his cause,
And with a pot of oil salutes
This judger of the laws.
"My friend" quoth he, "thy cause is good":
He glad away did trudge;
Anon his wealthy foe did come
Before this partial judge.
An hog well fed this churl presents,
And craves a strain of law;
The hog received, the poor man's right
Was judged not worth a straw.
Therewith he cried, "O! partial judge,
Thy doom has me undone;
When oil I gave, my cause was good,
But now to ruin run."
"Poor man" quoth he, "I thee forgot,
And see thy cause of foil;
An hog came since into my house,
And broke thy pot of oil."_
Will's Coffee-house, July 15.
The discourse happened this evening to fall upon characters drawn in
plays, and a gentleman remarked, that there was no method in the world
of knowing the taste of an age, or period of time so good, as by the
observations of the persons represented in their comedies. There were
several instances produced, as Ben Jonson's bringing in a fellow smoking
as a piece of foppery;[406] "But," said the gentleman who entertained us
on this subject, "this matter is nowhere so observable as in the
difference of the characters of women on the stage in the last age, and
in this. It is not to be supposed that it was a poverty of genius in
Shakespeare, that his women made so small a figure in his dialogues; but
it certainly is, that he drew women as they then were in life; for that
sex had not in those days that freedom in conversation; and their
characters were only, that they were mothers, sisters, daughters, and
wives. There were not then among the ladies, shining wits, politicians,
virtuosas, free-thinkers, and disputants; nay, there was then hardly
such a creature even as a coquette: but vanity had quite another turn,
and the most conspicuous woman at that time of day was only the best
housewife. Were it possible to bring into life an assembly of matrons of
that age, and introduce the learned Lady Woodby into their company, they
would not believe the same nation could produce a creature so unlike
anything they ever saw in it. But these ancients would be as much
astonished to see in the same age so illustrious a pattern to all who
love things praiseworthy, as the divine Aspasia.[407] Methinks, I now
see her walking in her garden like our first parent, with unaffected
charms, before beauty had spectators, and bearing celestial conscious
virtue in her aspect. Her countenance is the lively picture of her mind,
which is the seat of honour, truth, compassion, knowledge, and
innocence.
_There dwells the scorn of vice and pity too._
In the midst of the most ample fortune, and veneration of all that
behold and know her, without the least affectation, she consults
retirement, the contemplation of her own being, and that supreme power
which bestowed it. Without the learning of schools, or knowledge of a
long course of arguments, she goes on in a steady course of
uninterrupted piety and virtue, and adds to the severity and privacy of
the last age all the freedom and ease of this. The language and mien of
a Court she is possessed of in the highest degree; but the simplicity
and humble thoughts of a cottage, are her more welcome entertainments.
Aspasia is a female philosopher, who does not only live up to the
resignation of the most retired lives of the ancient sages, but also to
the schemes and plans which they thought beautiful, though inimitable.
This lady is the most exact economist, without appearing busy; the most
strictly virtuous, without tasting the praise of it; and shuns applause
with as much industry, as others do reproach. This character is so
particular, that it will very easily be fixed on her only, by all that
know her: but I daresay, she will be the last that finds it out. But,
alas! if we have one or two such ladies, how many dozens are there like
the restless Poluglossa, who is acquainted with all the world but
herself; who has the appearance of all, and possession of no one virtue:
she has indeed in her practice the absence of vice; but her discourse is
the continual history of it; and it is apparent, when she speaks of the
criminal gratifications of others, that her innocence is only a
restraint, with a certain mixture of envy. She is so perfectly opposite
to the character of Aspasia, that as vice is terrible to her only as it
is the object of reproach, so virtue is agreeable only as it is attended
with applause.
St. James's Coffee-house, July 15.
It is now twelve o'clock at noon, and no mail come in; therefore I am
not without hopes, that the town will allow me the liberty which my
brother news-writers take, in giving them what may be for their
information in another kind, and indulge me in doing an act of
friendship, by publishing the following account of goods and
movables.[408]
This is to give notice, that a magnificent palace, with great variety of
gardens, statues, and waterworks, may be bought cheap in Drury Lane;
where there are likewise several castles to be disposed of, very
delightfully situated; as also groves, woods, forests, fountains, and
country seats, with very pleasant prospects on all sides of them; being
the movables of Ch----r R----ch,[409] Esq.; who is breaking up
housekeeping, and has many curious pieces of furniture to dispose of,
which may be seen between the hours of six and ten in the evening.
#The INVENTORY.#
Spirits of right Nantes brandy, for lambent flames and apparitions.
Three bottles and a half of lightning.
One shower of snow in the whitest French paper.
Two showers of a browner sort.
A sea, consisting of a dozen large waves; the tenth bigger than
ordinary, and a little damaged.
A dozen and a half of clouds, trimmed with black, and well
conditioned.
A rainbow a little faded.
A set of clouds after the French mode, streaked with lightning, and
furbelowed.
A new-moon, something decayed.
A pint of the finest Spanish wash, being all that is left of two
hogsheads sent over last winter.
A coach very finely gilt, and little used, with a pair of dragons,
to be sold cheap.