An imperial mantle, made for Cyrus the Great, and worn by Julius
Cæsar, Bajazet, King Harry the Eighth, and Signior Valentin.[411]
A basket-hilt sword, very convenient to carry milk in.
Roxana's night-gown.
Othello's handkerchief.
The imperial robes of Xerxes, never worn but once.
A wild-boar, killed by Mrs. Tofts[412] and Dioclesian.
A serpent to sting Cleopatra.
A mustard-bowl to make thunder with.
Another of a bigger sort, by Mr. D----is's directions, little
used.[413]
Six elbow-chairs, very expert in country-dances, with six
flower-pots for their partners.
The whiskers of a Turkish bassa.
The complexion of a murderer in a band-box; consisting of a large
piece of burnt cork, and a coal-black peruke.
A suit of clothes for a ghost, viz., a bloody shirt, a doublet
curiously pinked, and a coat with three great eyelet-holes upon the
breast.
A bale of red Spanish wool.
Modern plots, commonly known by the name of trapdoors, ladders of
ropes, vizard-masks, and tables with broad carpets over them.
Three oak cudgels, with one of crab-tree; all bought for the use of
Mr. Pinkethman.
Materials for dancing; as masks, castanets, and a ladder of ten
rounds.
Aurengezebe's scimitar, made by Will Brown in Piccadilly.
A plume of feathers, never used but by Oedipus and the Earl of
Essex.
There are also swords, halberts, sheep-hooks, cardinals' hats, turbans,
drums, gallipots, a gibbet, a cradle, a rack, a cart-wheel, an altar, a
helmet, a back-piece, a breast-plate, a bell, a tub, and a jointed
baby.[414]
These are the hard shifts we intelligencers are forced to; therefore our
readers ought to excuse us, if a westerly wind blowing for a fortnight
together, generally fills every paper with an order of battle; when we
show our martial skill in each line, and, according to the space we have
to fill, we range our men in squadrons and battalions, or draw out
company by company, and troop by troop; ever observing, that no muster
is to be made, but when the wind is in a cross point, which often
happens at the end of a campaign, when half the men are deserted or
killed. The _Courant_ is sometimes ten deep, his ranks close: the
_Postboy_[415] is generally in files, for greater exactness; and the
_Postman_ comes down upon you rather after the Turkish way, sword in
hand, pell-mell, without form or discipline; but sure to bring men
enough into the field; and wherever they are raised, never to lose a
battle for want of numbers.
[Footnote 405: From George Whetstone's "English Mirror," 1586.]
[Footnote 406: See "Every Man out of his Humour," act ii. sc. 1.]
[Footnote 407: Lady Elizabeth Hastings, unquestionably one of the most
accomplished and virtuous characters of the age in which she lived, was
the daughter of Theophilus Hastings, the 7th Earl of Huntingdon, and of
Elizabeth, eldest daughter and co-heiress to John Lewes, of Ledstone, in
Yorkshire, Knt. and Bart. Her father succeeded to the honours and estate
of the family, Feb. 13, 1655, and was in 1687 Lord Chief Justice, and
Justice in Eyre of all the King's forests, &c., beyond Trent; Lord
Lieutenant of the counties of Leicester and Derby; Captain of the Band
of Gentlemen Pensioners, and of the Privy Council to King James II. He
died suddenly at his lodgings in Charles Street, St. James's, May 13,
1701, and was succeeded in his honours and estate by his son, and her
brother, Charles, who died unmarried, Feb. 22, 1704. Lady Elizabeth
Hastings was born April 19, 1682, and died Dec. 22, 1739. It is said,
with great probability, that since the commencement of the Christian
era, scarce any age has produced a lady of such high birth and superior
accomplishments, that was a greater blessing to many, or a brighter
pattern to all. There is an admirable sketch of this illustrious lady's
character, drawn soon after her death, in the tenth volume of the
_Gentleman's Magazine_, p. 36, probably by Samuel Johnson. See also "An
historical Character relating to the holy and exemplary Life of the
Right Honourable the Lady Elisabeth Hastings, &c. By Thomas Barnard,
A.M. Printed at Leeds, in 1742, 12mo" (Nichols).--Lady Elizabeth
Hastings, who came into a fortune upon the death of her brother George,
Earl of Huntingdon, settled at Ledstone House, where she was the Lady
Bountiful of the neighbourhood. Her whole estate, however, is said to
have been less than £3000 a year. The best of the clergy of the day were
among her friends. She helped Berkeley in his Bermuda Mission scheme,
and she befriended Miss Mary Astell. Ralph Thoresby, who visited her,
was "extremely pleased with the most agreeable conversation of the pious
and excellent Lady Elizabeth Hastings." ("Diary," ii. 82). She was one
of the numerous eligible ladies that the friends of Lord Raby,
afterwards Earl of Strafford, suggested to him as a suitable wife
("Wentworth Papers," pp. 29, 56). The character of Aspasia in this paper
has been attributed to Congreve, on the ground, apparently, that he knew
Lady Elizabeth Hastings' half-brother, Theophilus, afterwards Earl of
Huntingdon. See No. 49, note.]
[Footnote 408: The remainder of this paper is by Addison; see Steele's
Preface. Drury Lane Theatre was closed by an order of the Lord
Chamberlain, as mentioned in No. 30.]
[Footnote 409: Christopher Rich.]
[Footnote 410: A bargain.]
[Footnote 411: Valentini Urbani sang in Italian in the opera of
"Camilla," in 1707. His acting seems to have been better than his voice
(Burney's "History of Music," iv. 208).]
[Footnote 412: See No. 20.]
[Footnote 413: John Dennis's unsuccessful tragedy of "Appius and
Virginia" was produced in 1709. On that occasion he introduced a new
method of making thunder (see "Dunciad," ii. 226), which was found
useful by managers. Afterwards, when Dennis found his invention being
used in "Macbeth," he exclaimed, "'Sdeath! that's my thunder. See how
the fellows use me, they have silenced my tragedy, and they roar out my
thunder" (Oldys, MS. notes on Langbaine).]
[Footnote 414: "Baby" was often used for "doll."]
[Footnote 415: See No. 18.]
No. 43. [STEELE.
From _Saturday, July 16_, to _Tuesday, July 19_, 1709.
Bene nummatum decorat suadela Venusque,
HOR. 1 Ep. vi. 38.
* * * * *
White's Chocolate-house, July 18.
I write from hence at present to complain, that wit and merit are so
little encouraged by people of rank and quality, that the wits of the
age are obliged to run within Temple Bar for patronage. There is a
deplorable instance of this in the case of Mr. D----y,[416] who has
dedicated his inimitable comedy, called, "The Modern Prophets," to a
worthy knight,[417] to whom, it seems, he had before communicated his
plan, which was, to ridicule the ridiculous of our established doctrine.
I have elsewhere celebrated the contrivance of this excellent drama; but
was not, till I read the dedication, wholly let into the religious
design of it. I am afraid it has suffered discontinuance at this gay end
of the town, for no other reason but the piety of the purpose. There is
however in this epistle the true life of panegyrical performance; and I
do not doubt but, if the patron would part with it, I can help him to
others with good pretensions to it; viz., of uncommon understanding, who
would give him as much as he gave for it. I know perfectly well a noble
person to whom these words (which are the body of the panegyric) would
fit to a hair.
"Your easiness of humour, or rather your harmonious disposition, is so
admirably mixed with your composure, that the rugged cares and
disturbance that public affairs brings with it, which does so
vexatiously affect the heads of other great men of business, &c. does
scarce ever ruffle your unclouded brow so much as with a frown. And what
above all is praiseworthy, you are so far from thinking yourself better
than others, that a flourishing and opulent fortune, which by a certain
natural corruption in its quality, seldom fails to infect other
possessors with pride, seems in this case as if only providentially
disposed to enlarge your humility.
"But I find, sir, I am now got into a very large field, where though I
could with great ease raise a number of plants in relation to your merit
of this plauditory nature; yet for fear of an author's general vice, and
that the plain justice I have done you should, by my proceeding and
others' mistaken judgment, be imagined flattery, a thing the bluntness
of my nature does not care to be concerned with, and which I also know
you abominate."
It is wonderful to see how many judges of these fine things spring up
every day by the rise of stocks, and other elegant methods of abridging
the way to learning and criticism. But I do hereby forbid all
dedications to any persons within the city of London, except Sir
Francis, Sir Stephen,[418] and the Bank, will take epigrams and epistles
as value received for their notes; and the East India Companies accept
of heroic poems for their sealed bonds. Upon which bottom, our
publishers have full power to treat with the city in behalf of us
authors, to enable traders to become patrons and Fellows of the Royal
Society, as well as receive certain degrees of skill in the Latin and
Greek tongues, according to the quantity of the commodities which they
take off our hands.
Grecian Coffee-house, July 18.
The learned have so long laboured under the imputation of dryness and
dulness in their accounts of their phenomena, that an ingenious
gentleman of our society has resolved to write a system of philosophy in
a more lively method, both as to the matter and language, than has been
hitherto attempted. He read to us the plan upon which he intends to
proceed. I thought his account, by way of fable of the worlds about us,
had so much vivacity in it, that I could not forbear transcribing his
hypothesis, to give the reader a taste of my friend's treatise, which is
now in the press.[419]
"The inferior deities having designed on a day to play a game at
football, knead together a numberless collection of dancing atoms into
the form of seven rolling globes: and that nature might be kept from a
dull inactivity, each separate particle is endued with a principle of
motion, or a power of attraction, whereby all the several parcels of
matter draw each other proportionately to their magnitudes and
distances, into such a remarkable variety of different forms, as to
produce all the wonderful appearances we now observe in empire,
philosophy, and religion. To proceed; at the beginning of the game, each
of the globes being struck forward with a vast violence, ran out of
sight, and wandered in a straight line through the infinite spaces. The
nimble deities pursue, breathless almost, and spent in the eager chase;
each of them caught hold of one, and stamped it with his name; as,
Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, and so of the rest. To prevent this inconvenience
for the future, the seven are condemned to a precipitation, which in our
inferior style we call 'gravity.' Thus the tangential and centripetal
forces, by their counter-struggle, make the celestial bodies describe an
exact ellipsis."
There will be added to this an appendix, in defence of the first day of
the term according to the Oxford Almanac,[420] by a learned knight of
this realm, with an apology for the said knight's manner of dress;
proving, that his habit, according to this hypothesis, is the true
modern and fashionable; and that buckles are not to be worn, by this
system, till the 10th of March, in the year 1714, which, according to
the computation of some of our greatest divines, is to be the first year
of the Millennium[421]; in which blessed age, all habits will be reduced
to a primitive simplicity; and whoever shall be found to have persevered
in a constancy of dress, in spite of all the allurements of profane and
heathen habits, shall be rewarded with a never-fading doublet of a
thousand years. All points in the system which are doubted, shall be
attested by the knight's extemporary oath, for the satisfaction of his
readers.
Will's Coffee-house, July 18.
We were upon the heroic strain this evening, and the question was, What
is the True Sublime? Many very good discourses happened thereupon; after
which a gentleman at the table, who is, it seems, writing on that
subject, assumed the argument; and though he ran through many instances
of sublimity from the ancient writers, said, he had hardly known an
occasion wherein the true greatness of soul, which animates a general in
action, is so well represented, with regard to the person of whom it was
spoken, and the time in which it was writ, as in a few lines in a modern
poem: "there is," continued he, "nothing so forced and constrained, as
what we frequently meet with in tragedies; to make a man under the
weight of a great sorrow, or full of meditation upon what he is soon to
execute, cast about for a simile to what he himself is, or the thing
which he is going to act: but there is nothing more proper and natural
than for a poet, whose business is to describe, and who is spectator of
one in that circumstance when his mind is working upon a great image,
and that the ideas hurry upon his imagination--I say, there is nothing
so natural, as for a poet to relieve and clear himself from the burthen
of thought at that time, by uttering his conception in simile and
metaphor. The highest act of the mind of man, is to possess itself with
tranquillity in imminent danger, and to have its thoughts so free, as to
act at that time without perplexity. The ancient poets have compared
this sedate courage to a rock that remains immovable amidst the rage of
winds and waves; but that is too stupid and inanimate a similitude, and
could do no credit to the hero. At other times they are all of them
wonderfully obliged to a Lybian lion, which may give indeed very
agreeable terrors to a description; but is no compliment to the person
to whom it is applied: eagles, tigers, and wolves, are made use of on
the same occasion, and very often with much beauty; but this is still an
honour done to the brute, rather than the hero. Mars, Pallas, Bacchus,
and Hercules, have each of them furnished very good similes in their
time, and made, doubtless, a greater impression on the mind of a
heathen, than they have on that of a modern reader. But the sublime
image that I am talking of, and which I really think as great as ever
entered into the thought of man, is in the poem called, 'The
Campaign';[422] where the simile of a ministering angel sets forth the
most sedate and the most active courage, engaged in an uproar of nature,
a confusion of elements, and a scene of divine vengeance. Add to all,
that these lines compliment the General and his Queen at the same time,
and have all the natural horrors, heightened by the image that was still
fresh in the mind of every reader.[423]
"_'Twas then great Marlborough's mighty soul was proved,
That, in the shock of charging hosts unmoved,
Amidst confusion, horror, and despair,
Examined all the dreadful scenes of war;
In peaceful thought the field of death surveyed,
To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid,
Inspired repulsed battalions to engage,
And taught the doubtful battle where to rage.
So when an angel by divine command,
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land,
Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast;
And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm._
"The whole poem is so exquisitely noble and poetic, that I think it an
honour to our nation and language." The gentleman concluded his critique
on this work, by saying, that he esteemed it wholly new, and a wonderful
attempt to keep up the ordinary ideas of a march of an army, just as
they happened in so warm and great a style, and yet be at once familiar
and heroic. Such a performance is a chronicle as well as a poem, and
will preserve the memory of our hero, when all the edifices and statues
erected to his honour are blended with common dust.
St. James's Coffee-house, July 18.
Letters from the Hague of the 23rd instant, N.S., say, that the Allies
were so forward in the siege of Tournay, that they were preparing for a
general assault, which, it was supposed, would be made within a few
days. Deserters from the town gave an account, that the garrison was
carrying their ammunition and provisions into the citadel, which
occasioned a tumult among the inhabitants of the town. The French army
had laid bridges over the Scarp, and made a motion as if they intended
to pass that river; but though they are joined by the reinforcement
expected from Germany, it was not believed they should make any attempt
towards relieving Tournay. Letters from Brabant say, there has been a
discovery made of a design to deliver up Antwerp to the enemy. The
States of Holland have agreed to a general naturalisation of all
Protestants who shall fly into their dominions; to which purpose, a
proclamation was to be issued within few days.
They write from France, that the great misery and want under which that
nation has so long laboured, has ended in a pestilence, which began to
appear in Burgundy and Dauphiné. They add, that in the town of Mazon,
three hundred persons had died in the space of ten days. Letters from
Lille of the 24th instant advise, that great numbers of deserters came
daily into that city, the most part of whom are dragoons. We are advised
from France, that the Loire having overflowed its banks, hath laid the
country under water for three hundred miles together.
[Footnote 416: See Nos. 1 and 11. In No. 29 of the _Guardian_ Steele
accused the world of ingratitude in not properly "rewarding the jocose
labours of my friend, Mr. Durfey"; and in No. 67 Addison urged the town
to go to a performance at the theatre given for Durfey's benefit. "He
has made the town merry, and I hope they will make him easy, so long as
he stays among us."]
[Footnote 417: Sir William Scawen, a merchant who was knighted in 1692.]
[Footnote 418: Probably Sir Francis Child and Sir Stephen Evance, the
bankers. The latter was ruined at the time of the South Sea mania. The
following advertisement appeared in the _Postman_ for Jan. 1, 1709:
"Lost or mislaid, some time the last summer, at Winchester House, in
Chelsea, a gold snuff-box, a cypher graved on the cover, with trophies
round it, and over the cypher these words, 'DD. Illust. Princ. Jac. Duci
Ormond.' Whoever brings it to Sir Stephen Evance, at the Black Boy in
Lombard Street, shall have ten guineas reward, and be asked no
questions."]
[Footnote 419: This seems to be a banter upon Mr. Whiston's book
intituled, "Prælectiones Physicæ Mathematicæ; sive Philosophia
clarissimi Newtoni Mathematica illustrata, 1710"; wherein he explained
the Newtonian philosophy, which now began to grow into vogue. Both
Addison and Steele, however, very much befriended Whiston; and after his
banishment from Cambridge, promoted a subscription for his astronomical
lectures at Button's Coffee-house (Nichols).--See No. 251.]
[Footnote 420: See No. 39.]
[Footnote 421: Whiston had fixed that day for the destruction of
Anti-Christ and the beginning of the Millennium.]
[Footnote 422: Written by Addison in 1705, in celebration of the victory
at Blenheim.]
[Footnote 423: The great storm of November 1703 formed the subject of a
volume published by Defoe in 1704.]
No. 44. [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, July 19_, to _Thursday, July 21_, 1709.
--Nullis amor est medicabilis herbis.
OVID, Met. i. 523.
* * * * *
White's Chocolate-house, July 19.
This day, passing through Covent Garden, I was stopped in the Piazza by
Pacolet, to observe what he called the "triumph of love and youth." I
turned to the object he pointed at; and there I saw a gay gilt chariot
drawn by fresh prancing horses; the coachman with a new cockade, and the
lackeys with insolence and plenty in their countenances. I asked
immediately, what young heir or lover owned that glittering equipage?
But my companion interrupted: "Do not you see there the mourning
Æsculapius?"[424] "The mourning!" said I. "Yes, Isaac," said Pacolet,
"he is in deep mourning, and is the languishing hopeless lover of the
divine Hebe, the emblem of youth and beauty. The excellent and learned
sage you behold in that furniture, is the strongest instance imaginable,
that love is the most powerful of all things. You are not so ignorant as
to be a stranger to the character of Æsculapius, as the patron and most
successful of all who profess the art of medicine. But as most of his
operations are owing to a natural sagacity or impulse, he has very
little troubled himself with the doctrine of drugs; but has always given
Nature more room to help herself, than any of her learned assistants;
and consequently has done greater wonders than is in the power of art to
perform;[425] for which reason, he is half deified by the people; and
has ever been justly courted by all the world, as if he were a seventh
son. It happened, that the charming Hebe was reduced, by a long and
violent fever, to the most extreme danger of death; and when all skill
failed, they sent for Æsculapius. The renowned artist was touched with
the deepest compassion to see the faded charms and faint bloom of Hebe;
and had a generous concern in beholding a struggle, not between life,
but rather between youth, and death. All his skill and his passion
tended to the recovery of Hebe, beautiful even in sickness: but, alas!
the unhappy physician knew not, that in all his care he was only
sharpening darts for his own destruction. In a word, his fortune was the
same with that of the statuary, who fell in love with the image of his
own making; and the unfortunate Æsculapius is become the patient of her
whom he lately recovered. Long before this disaster, Æsculapius was far
gone in the unnecessary and superfluous amusements of old age, in
increasing unwieldy stores, and providing, in the midst of an incapacity
of enjoyment of what he had, for a supply of more wants than he had
calls for in youth itself. But these low considerations are now no more,
and love has taken place of avarice, or rather has become an avarice of
another kind, which still urges him to pursue what he does not want. But
behold the metamorphosis; the anxious mean cares of an usurer are turned
into the languishments and complaints of a lover. 'Behold,' says the
aged Æsculapius, 'I submit, I own, great Love, thy empire: pity, Hebe,
the fop you have made: what have I to do with gilding but on pills? Yet,
O fair! For thee I sit amidst a crowd of painted deities on my chariot,
buttoned in gold, clasped in gold, without having any value for that
beloved metal, but as it adorns the person, and laces the hat of thy
dying lover. I ask not to live, O Hebe! Give me but gentle death:
euthanasia, euthanasia, that is all I implore.'" When Æsculapius had
finished his complaint, Pacolet went on in deep morals on the
uncertainty of riches, with this remarkable exclamation; "O wealth! How
impotent art thou! And how little dost thou supply us with real
happiness, when the usurer himself can forget thee for the love of what
is as foreign to his felicity as thou art?"
Will's Coffee-house, July 19.
The company here, who have all a delicate taste of theatrical
representations, had made a gathering to purchase the movables of the
neighbouring playhouse,[426] for the encouragement of one which is
setting up in the Haymarket. But the proceedings at the auction (by
which method the goods have been sold this evening) have been so unfair,
that this generous design has been frustrated; for the Imperial Mantle
made for Cyrus was missing, as also the Chariot and Two Dragons: but
upon examination it was found, that a gentleman of Hampshire[427] had
clandestinely bought them both, and is gone down to his country seat;
and that on Saturday last he passed through Staines attired in that
robe, and drawn by the said Dragons, assisted by two only of his own
horses. This theatrical traveller has also left orders with Mr.
Hall[428] to send the faded rainbow to the scourers, and when it comes
home, to despatch it after him. At the same time C---- R----[429] Esq.
is invited to bring down himself his Setting Sun, and be box-keeper to a
theatre erected by this gentleman near Southampton. Thus there has been
nothing but artifice in the management of this affair; for which reason
I beg pardon of the town, that I inserted the inventory in my paper and
solemnly protest, I knew nothing of this artful design of vending these
rarities: but I meant only the good of the world in that and all other
things which I divulge. And now I am upon this subject, I must do myself
justice in relation to an article in a former paper, wherein I made
mention of a person who keeps a puppet-show in the town of Bath;[430] I
was tender of naming names, and only just hinted, that he makes larger
promises, when he invites people to his dramatic representations, than
he is able to perform: but I am credibly informed, that he makes a
profane lewd jester, which he calls Punch, speak to the dishonour of
Isaac Bickerstaff with great familiarity; and before all my learned
friends in that place, takes upon him to dispute my title to the
appellation of Esquire. I think I need not say much to convince all the
world, that this Mr. Powell (for that is his name) is a pragmatical and
vain person to pretend to argue with me on any subject. _Mecum certasse
feretur_[431]; that is to say, it will be an honour to him to have it
said he contended with me; but I would have him to know, that I can look
beyond his wires, and know very well the whole trick of his art, and
that it is only by these wires that the eye of the spectator is cheated,
and hindered from seeing that there is a thread on one of Punch's chops,
which draws it up, and lets it fall at the discretion of the said
Powell, who stands behind and plays him, and makes him speak saucily of
his betters. He! to pretend to make prologues against me! But a man
never behaves himself with decency in his own case; therefore I shall
command myself, and never trouble me further with this little fellow,
who is himself but a tall puppet, and has not brains enough to make even
wood speak as it ought to do: and I, that have heard the groaning
board,[432] can despise all that his puppets shall be able to speak as
long as they live. But, _Ex quovis ligno non fit Mercurius_[433]. He has
pretended to write to me also from the Bath, and says, he thought to
have deferred giving me an answer till he came to his books[434]; but
that my writings might do well with the waters: which are pert
expressions that become a schoolboy, better than one that is to teach
others: and when I have said a civil thing to him, he cries, "Oh! I
thank you for that--I am your humble servant for that."[435] Ah! Mr.
Powell, these smart civilities will never run down men of learning: I
know well enough your design is to have all men automata, like your
puppets; but the world is grown too wise, and can look through these
thin devices. I know you design to make a reply to this; but be sure you
stick close to my words; for if you bring me into discourses concerning
the government of your puppets, I must tell you, I neither am, nor have
been, nor will be, at leisure to answer you. It is really a burning
shame this man should be tolerated in abusing the world with such
representations of things: but his parts decay, and he is not much more
alive than Partridge.
From my own Apartment, July 14.
I must beg pardon of my readers that for this time I have, I fear,
huddled up my discourse, having been very busy in helping an old friend
of mine out of town. He has a very good estate, is a man of wit; but he
had been three years absent from town, and cannot bear a jest; for
which reason I have, with some pains, convinced him, that he can no
more live here than if he were a downright bankrupt. He was so fond of
dear London, that he began to fret only inwardly; but being unable to
laugh and be laughed at, I took a place in the northern coach for him
and his family; and hope he is got to-night safe from all sneerers in
his own parlour.
St. James's Coffee-house, July 20.
This morning we received by express, the agreeable news of the surrender
of the town of Tournay on the 28th instant, N.S. The place was assaulted
at the attacks of General Schuylemburg, and that of General Lottum, at
the same time. The action at both those parts of the town was very
obstinate, and the Allies lost a considerable number at the beginning of
the dispute; but the fight was continued with so great bravery, that the
enemy observing that we were masters of all the posts which were
necessary for a general attack, beat the chamade,[436] and hostages were
received from the town, and others sent from the besiegers, in order to
come to a formal capitulation for the surrender of the place. We have
also this day received advice, that Sir John Leake, who lies off of
Dunkirk, had intercepted several ships laden with corn from the Baltic;
and that the Dutch privateers had fallen in with others, and carried
them into Holland. The French letters advise, that the young son to the
Duke of Anjou lived but eight days.
[Footnote 424: Dr. John Radcliffe, the physician (1650-1714), was
disappointed in love when about sixty. The matter is referred to again
in Nos. 46, 47, 50 and 67. Radcliffe became rich, but was considered to
be a quack by many other doctors. "The last _Tatler_ is upon Dr. Ratclif
who they say is desparately in love with Dutchess of Bolton, his passion
runs so high as to declare he'll make her eldest son his heir, upon wch
account they say the Duke of B---- is not at all alarm'd, but gives the
Old amorist opportunity to make his Court, the Dr. lately gave the
Dutchess and some other Ladys an entertainm' of musick upon the water,
and a fine supper in the Barge" ("Wentworth Papers," p. 97). This
identification of Hebe with the Duchess of Bolton is corroborated by the
MS. annotator mentioned in a note to No. 4. According to another account
she was a Miss Tempest, a maid of honour to the Queen. The writer of the
article on Radcliffe in the "Biog. Britannica" says: "The lady, who made
the doctor, at this advanced age, stand in need of a physician himself,
was of great beauty, wealth, and quality; and too attractive not to
inspire the coldest heart with the warmest sentiments. After he had made
a cure of her, he could not but imagine, as naturally he might, that her
ladyship would entertain a favourable opinion of him. But the lady,
however grateful she might be for the care he had taken of her health,
divulged the secret, and one of her confidants revealed it to Steele,
who, on account of party, was so ill-natured as to write the ridicule of
it in the _Tatler_" Radcliffe never married.]
[Footnote 425: I have a pamphlet called "The _Tatler's_ Character (July
21) of Æsculapius guessing diseases, without the knowledge of drugs;
applied to the British Physicians and Surgeons: or, The difficult
diseases of the Royal Family, Nobility and Gentry will never be
understood and recover'd, when the populace are oppress'd and destroy'd
by the Practising-Apothecaries and Empiricks confess'd by the College
and Mr. Bernard the Surgeon. By a Consultation of Gentlemen of Quality."
London, 8vo, 1709. The pamphlet contains some interesting remarks on the
physicians, apothecaries and hospitals of the time. Mr. Bickerstaff is
called "the most ingenious physician of our vices and follies."]
[Footnote 426: See No. 42.]
[Footnote 427: A friend of Nichols said, "I have seen somewhere, but
cannot immediately refer to the book, an account of a theatre built at
Southwick, in the county of Hants, by a Mr. Richard Norton, whose will
is in the _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1733, p. 57. He is the person, I
believe, who wrote a play called 'Pausanias' (1696). Cibber dedicated
his first play to him." The MS. annotator mentioned in No. 4 also
identifies the gentleman of Hampshire with "Mr. N----n."]
[Footnote 428: An auctioneer.]
[Footnote 429: Christopher Rich, the manager.]
[Footnote 430: Under the name of Powell, the puppet-show man, Steele
attacked Dr. Blackall, Bishop of Exeter (see No. 37), who was engaged in
a controversy with Benjamin Hoadly. In March 1709, Blackall preached
before the Queen a sermon laying down the doctrine of passive obedience
in its most extreme form, but in 1704 he had preached obedience limited
by the laws of the State. Hoadly wrote against the sermon of 1709, and
brought against the Bishop the sermon of 1704. The Bishop, angry at this
mode of refutation, answered haughtily, and dwelt on the superiority of
his rank as compared with that of Hoadly, then simply rector of a London
parish. Bickerstaff here reproaches Blackall for the pride and rudeness
of his answer, and then, under the guise of Powell, proprietor of the
puppet-show, satirises the extreme doctrine of divine right taught by
the Bishop, a doctrine which would make the subjects mere automata, to
be moved only at the will of the prince.]
[Footnote 431: Ovid, "Met." xiii. 20.]
[Footnote 432: The following printed advertisement appeared in 1682: "At
the sign of the wool-sack, in Newgate-market, is to be seen, a strange
and wonderful thing, which is an elm-board, being touched with a hot
iron, doth express itself, as if it were a man dying with groans, and
trembling, to the great admiration of all the hearers. It hath been
presented before the King and his nobles, and hath given great
satisfaction. _Vivat Rex_."--(MSS. Sloan. 958.)]
[Footnote 433: "Ne e quovis ligno Mercurius fiat" is one of the proverbs
in the "Adagia" of Erasmus. But its history, as originally from the
Greek, is thus given in a note of Andr. Schottus, quoted by Gaisford in
his "Parcemiographia Græci," p. 39, Ox. 1836:--"Illiud adagium ὀυκ ἐκ
παντὸς ξύλου Ἕρμης ἂν γένοιτο [ouk ek pantòs zýlon Hermês àn génoito],
quod a Pythagora primum profectum auctor est Apuleius 'Apol.'" [t. ii.
p. 499] (Ed. Marshall, "Notes and Queries," March 26, 1887). See
Apuleius, "Apologia," 476: "Non enim ex omni ligno, ut Pythagoras
dicebat, debet Mercurius exsculpi."]
[Footnote 434: In the Bishop's answer to Hoadly's letter, 1709, there is
this passage: "I have no books here; and being under these
circumstances, I hope I may be excused, if, in citing Scripture, I
should not always name chapter and verse, nor hit exactly upon the very
words of the translation" (Lord Bishop of Exeter's Answer, &c., pp. 2
and 3).--"As to the _Tatlers_ relating to Powell's puppets, and the
doctrines of passive obedience and absolute non-resistance, and to
Bishop Blackall, I know it gave my father some uneasiness, that there is
a reference to a fact, which, as he resolved himself never to take
notice of, thinking it ungenerous, so he was sorry to see any friend of
the cause had; which is, that the Bishop had said inadvertently, he was
at Bath, and had not a Bible in his family. It is worth remarking, that
all the arguments used by Powell about his power over Punch, 'lighting
his pipe with one of his legs,' &c., are a good burlesque of those used
by the advocates of non-resistance."--(Dr. John Hoadly.)]
[Footnote 435: The Bishop, after quoting a respectful expression of
Hoadly's, says, "Your servant, sir, for that."]
[Footnote 436: A beat of the drum or sound of a trumpet, which summons
the enemy to a parley. In _Spectator_, No. 165, Addison ridiculed the
use of this and other French war terms by English writers.]
No. 45. [STEELE.
From _Thursday, July 21, to Saturday, July 23_, 1709.
Credo pudicitiam Saturno rege moratam
In terris.
Juv., Sat. vi. I.
* * * * *
White's Chocolate-house, July 22.
The other day I took a walk a mile or two out of town and strolling
wherever chance led me, I was insensibly carried into a by-road, along
which was a very agreeable quickset, of an extraordinary height, which
surrounded a very delicious seat and garden. From one angle of the
hedge, I heard a voice cry, "Sir, sir--" This raised my curiosity, and I
heard the same voice say, but in a gentle tone, "Come forward, come
forward." I did so, and one through the hedge called me by my name, and
bade me go on to the left, and I should be admitted to visit an old
acquaintance in distress. The laws of knight-errantry made me obey the
summons without hesitation; and I was let in at the back gate of a
lovely house by a maid-servant, who carried me from room to room, until
I came into a gallery; at the end of which, I saw a fine lady dressed in
the most sumptuous habit, as if she were going to a ball, but with the
most abject and disconsolate sorrow in her face that I ever beheld. As I
came near, she burst into tears, and cried, "Sir, do not you know the
unhappy Teraminta?" I soon recollected her whole person: "But," said I,
"madam, the simplicity of dress, in which I have ever seen you at your
good father's house, and the cheerfulness of countenance with which you
always appeared, are so unlike the fashion and temper you are now in,
that I did not easily recover the memory of you. Your habit was then
decent and modest, your looks serene and beautiful: whence then this
unaccountable change? Nothing can speak so deep a sorrow as your present
aspect; yet your dress is made for jollity and revelling." "It is," said
she, "an unspeakable pleasure to meet with one I know, and to bewail
myself to any that is not an utter stranger to humanity. When your
friend my father died, he left me to a wide world, with no defence
against the insults of fortune, but rather, a thousand snares to entrap
me in the dangers to which youth and innocence are exposed, in an age
wherein honour and virtue are become mere words, and used only as they
serve to betray those who understand them in their native sense, and
obey them as the guides and motives of their being. The wickedest of all
men living, the abandoned Decius, who has no knowledge of any good art
or purpose of human life, but as it tends to the satisfaction of his
appetites, had opportunities of frequently seeing and entertaining me at
a house where mixed company boarded, and where he placed himself for the
base intention which he has since brought to pass. Decius saw enough in
me to raise his brutal desires, and my circumstances gave him hopes of
accomplishing them. But all the glittering expectations he could lay
before me, joined by my private terrors of poverty itself, could not for
some months prevail upon me; yet, however I hated his intention, I still
had a secret satisfaction in his courtship, and always exposed myself to
his solicitations. See here the bane of our sex! Let the flattery be
never so apparent, the flatterer never so ill thought of, his praises
are still agreeable and we contribute to our own deceit. I was therefore
ever fond of all opportunities and pretences of being in his company. In
a word, I was at last ruined by him, and brought to this place, where I
have been ever since immured; and from the fatal day after my fall from
innocence, my worshipper became my master and my tyrant. Thus you see me
habited in the most gorgeous manner, not in honour of me as a woman he
loves, but as this attire charms his own eye, and urges him to repeat
the gratification he takes in me, as the servant of his brutish lusts
and appetites. I know not where to fly for redress; but am here pining
away life in the solitude and severity of a nun, but the conscience and
guilt of a harlot. I live in this lewd practice with a religious awe of
my minister of darkness, upbraided with the support I receive from him,
for the inestimable possession of youth, of innocence, of honour, and of
conscience. I see, sir, my discourse grows painful to you; all I beg of
you is, to paint in so strong colours, as to let Decius see I am
discovered to be in his possession, that I may be turned out of this
detestable scene of regular iniquity, and either think no more, or sin
no more. If your writings have the good effect of gaining my
enlargement, I promise you I will atone for this unhappy step, by
preferring an innocent laborious poverty, to all the guilty affluence
the world can offer me."
Will's Coffee-house, July 21.
To show that I do not bear an irreconcilable hatred to my mortal enemy,
Mr. Powell at Bath, I do his function the honour to publish to the
world, that plays represented by puppets are permitted in our
universities,[437] and that sort of drama is not wholly thought unworthy
the critic of learned heads: but as I have been conversant rather with
the greater Ode, as I think the critics call it, I must be so humble as
to make a request to Mr. Powell, and desire him to apply his thoughts
to answering the difficulties with which my kinsman, the author of the
following letter, seems to be embarrassed.
#"_To my Honoured Kinsman, Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq._#
"DEAR COUSIN,
"Had the family of the Beadlestaffs,[438] whereof I, though unworthy, am
one, known of your being lately at Oxon, we had in our own name, and in
the Universities' (as it is our office), made you a compliment: but your
short stay here robbed us of an opportunity of paying our due respects,
and you of receiving an ingenious entertainment, with which we at
present divert ourselves and strangers. A puppet-show at this time
supplies the want of an Act.[439] And since the nymphs of this city are
disappointed of a luscious music-speech, and the country ladies of
hearing their sons or brothers speak verses; yet the vocal machines,
like them, by the help of a prompter, say things as much to the benefit
of the audience, and almost as properly their own. The licence of a
Terræ-Filius[440] is refined to the well-bred satire of Punchinello.
Now, Cousin Bickerstaff, though Punch has neither a French nightcap, nor
long pockets, yet you must own him to be a pretty fellow, a 'very'
pretty fellow: nay, since he seldom leaves the company, without
calling, 'Son of a whore,' demanding satisfaction, and duelling, he must
be owned a smart fellow too. Yet, by some indecencies towards the
ladies, he seems to be of a third character, distinct from any you have
yet touched upon. A young gentleman who sat next me (for I had the
curiosity of seeing this entertainment), in a tufted gown, red
stockings, and long wig (which I pronounce to be tantamount to red heels
and a dangling cane[441]) was enraged when Punchinello disturbed a soft
love-scene with his ribaldry. You would oblige us mightily by laying
down some rules for adjusting the extravagant behaviour of this
Almanzor[442] of the play, and by writing a treatise on this sort of
dramatic poetry, so much favoured, and so little understood, by the
learned world. From its being conveyed in a cart after the Thespian
manner, all the parts being recited by one person, as the custom was
before Æschylus, and the behaviour of Punch as if he had won the goal,
you may possibly deduce its antiquity, and settle the chronology, as
well as some of our modern critics. In its natural transitions, from
mournful to merry; as, from the hanging of a lover, to dancing upon the
rope; from the stalking of a ghost, to a lady's presenting you with a
jig; you may discover such a decorum, as is not to be found elsewhere
than in our tragi-comedies. But I forget myself; it is not for me to
dictate: I thought fit, dear cousin, to give you these hints, to show
you that the Beadlestaffs don't walk before men of letters to no
purpose; and that though we do but hold up the train of arts and
sciences, yet like other pages, we are now and then let into our
ladies' secrets. I am,
"Your most
"Affectionate Kinsman,
"BENJAMIN BEADLESTAFF.
"From Mother Gourdon's, at Hedington,[443] near Oxon, _June 18_."
From my own Apartment, July 22.
I am got hither safe, but never spent time with so little satisfaction
as this evening; for you must know, I was five hours with three Merry,
and two Honest Fellows. The former sang catches; and the latter even
died with laughing at the noise they made. "Well," says Tom Belfrey,
"you scholars, Mr. Bickerstaff, are the worst company in the world."
"Ay," says his opposite, "you are dull to-night; prithee be merry." With
that I huzzaed, and took a jump across the table, then came clever upon
my legs, and fell a-laughing. "Let Mr. Bickerstaff alone," says one of
the Honest Fellows, "when he's in a good humour, he's as good company as
any man in England." He had no sooner spoke, but I snatched his hat off
his head, and clapped his upon my own, and burst out a-laughing again;
upon which we all fell a-laughing for half an hour. One of the Honest
Fellows got behind me in the interim, and hit me a sound slap on the
back; upon which he got the laugh out of my hands, and it was such a
twang on my shoulders, that I confess he was much merrier than I. I was
half angry; but resolved to keep up the good humour of the company; and
after holloing as loud as I could possibly, I drank off a bumper of
claret, that made me stare again. "Nay," says one of the Honest Fellows,
"Mr. Isaac is in the right, there is no conversation in this; what
signifies jumping, or hitting one another on the back? Let's drink
about." We did so from seven o'clock till eleven; and now I am come
hither, and, after the manner of the wise Pythagoras, begin to reflect
upon the passages of the day. I remember nothing, but that I am bruised
to death; and as it is my way to write down all the good things I have
heard in the last conversation to furnish my paper, I can from this only
tell you my sufferings and my bangs. I named Pythagoras just now, and I
protest to you, as he believed men after death entered into other
species, I am now and then tempted to think other animals enter into
men, and could name several on two legs, that never discover any
sentiment above what is common with the species of a lower kind; as we
see in these bodily wits whom I was with to-night, whose parts consist
in strength and activity; but their boisterous mirth gives me great
impatience for the return of such happiness as I enjoyed in a
conversation last week. Among others in that company, we had Florio, who
never interrupted any man living when he was speaking, or ever ceased to
speak, but others lamented that he had done. His discourse ever arises
from a fulness of the matter before him, and not from ostentation or
triumph of his understanding; for though he seldom delivers what he need
fear being repeated, he speaks without having that end in view; and his
forbearance of calumny or bitterness, is owing rather to his good nature
than his discretion; for which reason, he is esteemed a gentleman
perfectly qualified for conversation, in whom a general goodwill to
mankind takes off the necessity of caution and circumspection. We had
at the same time that evening the best sort of companion that can be, a
good-natured old man. This person meets in the company of young men,
veneration for his benevolence, and is not only valued for the good
qualities of which he is master, but reaps an acceptance from the pardon
he gives to other men's faults: and the ingenuous sort of men with whom
he converses, have so just a regard for him, that he rather is an
example, than a check to their behaviour. For this reason, as Senecio
never pretends to be a man of pleasure before youth, so young men never
set up for wisdom before Senecio; so that you never meet, where he is,
those monsters of conversation, who are grave or gay above their years.
He never converses but with followers of nature and good sense, where
all that is uttered is only the effect of a communicable temper, and not
of emulation to excel their companions; all desire of superiority being
a contradiction to that spirit which makes a just conversation, the very
essence of which is mutual goodwill. Hence it is, that I take it for a
rule, that the natural, and not the acquired man, is the companion.
Learning, wit, gallantry, and good breeding, are all but subordinate
qualities in society, and are of no value, but as they are subservient
to benevolence, and tend to a certain manner of being or appearing equal
to the rest of the company; for conversation is composed of an assembly
of men, as they are men, and not as they are distinguished by fortune:
therefore he that brings his quality with him into conversation, should
always pay the reckoning; for he came to receive homage, and not to meet
his friends--But the din about my ears from the clamour of the people I
was with this evening, has carried me beyond my intended purpose, which
was to explain upon the Order of Merry Fellows; but I think I may
pronounce of them, as I heard good Senecio, with a spice of wit of the
last age, say, viz. that a Merry Fellow is the Saddest Fellow in the
world.
[Footnote 437: See No. 44. Blackall was a bishop; and the University of
Oxford had declared publicly in his favour.]
[Footnote 438: See No. 11.]
[Footnote 439: A meeting for conferring degrees, when speeches, &c., are
delivered.]
[Footnote 440: An undergraduate who made extempore speeches at the Act,
often of a very satirical kind. Sometimes there were two _terræ filii_,
who carried on a dialogue. In 1721, Amberst published a periodical with
the title "Terræ-Filius: or, The Secret History of the University of
Oxford," and these papers were reprinted in two volumes in 1726, with a
curious engraving of the Theatre at Oxford, by Hogarth, as
frontispiece.]
[Footnote 441: See No. 26.]
[Footnote 442: In an Essay "Of Heroic Plays," prefixed to his play,
"Almanzor and Almahide; or, The Conquest of Granada," Dryden defended at
length the character of Almanzor.]
[Footnote 443: This village is the scene of Dr. William King's play,
"Joan of Hedington" ("Works," 1776, vol. iii. p. 16).]
No. 46. [STEELE.
From _Saturday, July 23_, to _Tuesday, July 26_, 1709.
Non bene conveniunt, nec in una sede morantur,
Majestas et amor.
OVID, Met. ii. 846.
* * * * *
White's Chocolate-house, July 25.
We see every day volumes written against that tyrant of human life
called Love, and yet there is no help found against his cruelties, or
barrier against the inroads he is pleased to make into the mind of man.
After this preface, you will expect I am going to give particular
instances of what I have asserted. That expectation cannot be raised too
high for the novelty of the history, and manner of life, of the Emperor
Aurengezebe,[444] who has resided for some years in the cities of London
and Westminster, with the air and mien indeed of his imperial quality,
but the equipage and appointment only of a private gentleman. This
potentate, for a long series of time, appeared from the hour of twelve
till that of two at a coffee-house near the 'Change, and had a seat
(though without a canopy) sacred to himself, where he gave diurnal
audiences concerning commerce, politics, tare and tret, usury and
abatement, with all things necessary for helping the distressed, who
were willing to give one limb for the better maintenance of the rest; or
such joyous youths, whose philosophy is confined to the present hour,
and were desirous to call in the revenue of next half-year to double the
enjoyment of this. Long did this growing monarch employ himself after
this manner: and as alliances are necessary to all great kingdoms, he
took particularly the interests of Lewis XIV. into his care and
protection. When all mankind were attacking that unhappy monarch, and
those who had neither valour nor wit to oppose against him would be
still showing their impotent malice by laying wagers in opposition to
his interests, Aurengezebe ever took the part of his contemporary, and
laid immense treasures on his side in defence of his important magazine
of Toulon. Aurengezebe also had all this while a constant intelligence
with India, and his letters were answered in jewels, which he soon made
brilliant, and caused to be affixed to his imperial castor, which he
always wears cocked in front, to show his defiance; with a heap of
imperial snuff in the middle of his ample visage, to show his sagacity.
The zealots for this little spot called Great Britain fell universally
into this emperor's policies, and paid homage to his superior genius, in
forfeiting their coffers to his treasury: but wealth and wisdom are
possessions too solemn not to give weariness to active minds, without
the relief (in vacant hours) of wit and love, which are the proper
amusements of the powerful and the wise: this emperor therefore, with
great regularity, every day at five in the afternoon, leaves his
money-changers, his publicans, and little hoarders of wealth, to their
low pursuits, and ascends his chariot to drive to Will's; where the
taste is refined, and a relish given to men's possessions, by a polite
skill in gratifying their passions and appetites. There it is that the
emperor has learned to live and to love, and not, like a miser, to gaze
only on his ingots or his treasures; but with a nobler satisfaction, to
live the admiration of others, for his splendour and happiness in being
master of them. But a prince is no more to be his own caterer in his
love, than in his food; therefore Aurengezebe has ever in waiting two
purveyors for his dishes, and his wenches for his retired hours, by whom
the scene of his diversion is prepared in the following manner:
There is near Covent Garden a street known by the name of Drury, which,
before the days of Christianity, was purchased by the Queen of Paphos,
and is the only part of Great Britain where the tenure of vassalage is
still in being. All that long course of building is under particular
districts or ladyships, after the manner of lordships in other parts,
over which matrons of known abilities preside, and have, for the support
of their age and infirmities, certain taxes paid out of the rewards for
the amorous labours of the young. This seraglio of Great Britain is
disposed into convenient alleys and apartments, and every house, from
the cellar to the garret, inhabited by nymphs of different orders, that
persons of every rank may be accommodated with an immediate consort, to
allay their flames, and partake of their cares. Here it is, that when
Aurengezebe thinks fit to give a loose to dalliance, the purveyors
prepare the entertainments; and what makes it more august is, that every
person concerned in the interlude has his set part, and the prince sends
beforehand word what he designs to say, and directs also the very answer
which shall be made to him.
It has been before hinted, that this emperor has a continual commerce
with India; and it is to be noted, that the largest stone that rich
earth has produced, is in our Aurengezebe's possession.
But all things are now disposed for his reception. At his entrance into
the seraglio, a servant delivers him his bever of state and love, on
which is fixed this inestimable jewel as his diadem. When he is seated,
the purveyors, Pandarus and Nuncio, marching on each side of the matron
of the house, introduce her into his presence. In the midst of the room,
they bow altogether to the diadem.
When the matron:
"Whoever thou art (as thy awful aspect speaks thee a man of power), be
propitious to this mansion of love, and let not the severity of thy
wisdom disdain, that by the representation of naked innocence, or
pastoral figures, we revive in thee the memory at least of that power of
Venus, to which all the wise and the brave are some part of their lives
devoted." Aurengezebe consents by a nod, and they go out backward.
After this, an unhappy nymph, who is to be supposed just escaped from
the hands of a ravisher, with her tresses dishevelled, runs into the
room with a dagger in her hand, and falls before the emperor.
"Pity, oh! pity! whoever thou art, an unhappy virgin, whom one of thy
train has robbed of her innocence; her innocence, which was all her
portion--Or rather, let me die like the memorable Lucretia--" Upon which
she stabs herself. The body is immediately examined after the manner of
our coroners. Lucretia recovers by a cup of right Nantes; and the
matron, who is her next relation, stops all process at law.
This unhappy affair is no sooner over, but a naked mad woman breaks into
the room, calls for her duke, her lord, her emperor. As soon as she
spies Aurengezebe, the object of all her fury and love, she calls for
petticoats, is ready to sink with shame, and is dressed in all haste in
new attire at his charge. This unexpected accident of the mad woman
makes Aurengezebe curious to know, whether others who are in their
senses can guess at his quality. For which reason the whole convent is
examined one by one. The matron marches in with a tawdry country girl:
"Pray, Winifred," says she, "who do you think that fine man with those
jewels and pearls is?" "I believe," says Winifred, "it is our landlord.
It must be the squire himself." The emperor laughs at her simplicity.
"Go, fool," says the matron: then turning to the emperor, "Your
greatness will pardon her ignorance!" After her, several others of
different characters are instructed to mistake who he is in the same
manner: then the whole sisterhood are called together, and the emperor
rises, and cocking his hat, declares, he is the Great Mogul, and they
his concubines. A general murmur goes through the assembly, and
Aurengezebe certifying, that he keeps them for state rather than use,
tells them, they are permitted to receive all men into their apartments;
then proceeds through the crowd, among whom he throws medals shaped like
half-crowns, and returns to his chariot.
This being all that passed the last day in which Aurengezebe visited the
women's apartments, I consulted Pacolet concerning the foundation of
such strange amusements in old age: to which he answered; "You may
remember, when I gave you an account of my good fortune in being drowned
on the thirtieth day of my human life, I told you of the disasters I
should otherwise have met with before I arrived at the end of my stamen,
which was sixty years. I may now add an observation to you, that all who
exceed that period, except the latter part of it is spent in the
exercise of virtue and contemplation of futurity, must necessarily fall
into an indecent old age, because, with regard to all the enjoyments of
the years of vigour and manhood, childhood returns upon them: and as
infants ride on sticks, build houses in dirt, and make ships in gutters,
by a faint idea of things they are to act hereafter; so old men play the
lovers, potentates, and emperors, from the decaying image of the more
perfect performances of their stronger years: therefore be sure to
insert Æsculapius and Aurengezebe in your next bill of mortality of the
metaphorically defunct."
Will's Coffee-house, July 24.
As soon as I came hither this evening, no less than ten people produced
the following poem, which they all reported was sent to each of them by
the penny post from an unknown hand. All the battle-writers in the room
were in debate, who could be the author of a piece so martially written;
and everybody applauded the address and skill of the author, in calling
it a Postscript: it being the nature of a postscript to contain
something very material which was forgotten, or not clearly expressed in
the letter itself. Thus, the verses being occasioned by a march without
beat of drum, and that circumstance being no ways taken notice of in any
of the stanzas, the author calls it a postscript; not that it is a
postscript, but figuratively, because it wants a postscript. Common
writers, when what they mean is not expressed in the book itself, supply
it by a preface; but a postscript seems to me the more just way of
apology; because otherwise a man makes an excuse before the offence is
committed. All the heroic poets were guessed at for its author; but
though we could not find out his name, yet one repeated a couplet in
"Hudibras" which spoke his qualifications:
_"I' th' midst of all this warlike rabble,
Crowdero marched, expert and able"_[445]
The poem is admirably suited to the occasion: for to write without
discovering your meaning, bears a just resemblance to marching without
beat of drum.
#On the March to Tournay without Beat of Drum.#
#The Brussels POSTSCRIPT.#[446]
Could I with plainest words express
That great man's wonderful address,
His penetration, and his towering thought;
It would the gazing world surprise,
To see one man at all times wise,
To view the wonders he with ease has wrought.
Refining schemes approach his mind,
Like breezes of a southern wind,
To temperate a sultry glorious day;
Whose fannings, with an useful pride,
Its mighty heat doth softly guide,
And having cleared the air, glide silently away.
Thus his immensity of thought
Is deeply formed, and gently wrought,
His temper always softening life's disease;
That Fortune, when she does intend
To rudely frown, she turns his friend,
Admires his judgment, and applauds his ease.
His great address in this design,
Does now, and will for ever shine,
And wants a Waller but to do him right:
The whole amusement was so strong,
Like fate he doomed them to be wrong,
And Tournay's took by a peculiar sleight.
Thus, madam, all mankind behold
Your vast ascendant, not by gold,
But by your wisdom, and your pious life;
Your aim no more than to destroy
That which does Europe's ease annoy,
And supersede a reign of shame and strife.
St. James's Coffee-house, July 24.
My brethren of the quill, the ingenious society of news-writers, having
with great spirit and elegance already informed the world, that the town
of Tournay capitulated on the 28th instant, there is nothing left for me
to say, but to congratulate the good company here, that we have reason
to hope for an opportunity of thanking Mr. Withers[447] next winter in
this place, for the service he has done his country. No man deserves
better of his friends than that gentleman, whose distinguishing
character it is, that he gives his orders with the familiarity, and
enjoys his fortune with the generosity, of a fellow-soldier. His Grace
the Duke of Argyle had also an eminent part in the reduction of this
important place. That illustrious youth[448] discovers the peculiar
turn of spirit and greatness of soul which only make men of high birth
and quality useful to their country; and considers nobility as an
imaginary distinction, unless accompanied with the practice of those
generous virtues by which it ought to be obtained. But[449] that our
military glory is arrived at its present height, and that men of all
ranks so passionately affect their share in it, is certainly owing to
the merit and conduct of our glorious general; for as the great secret
in chemistry, though not in nature, has occasioned many useful
discoveries; and the fantastic notion of being wholly disinterested in
friendship, has made men do a thousand generous actions above
themselves; so, though the present grandeur and fame of the Duke of
Marlborough is a station of glory to which no one hopes to arrive, yet
all carry their actions to a higher pitch, by having that great example
laid before them.
[Footnote 444: "Aurenzeb is Tom Colson, who never had any friendship
with anybody but S'r Edward Seymour, who brought him into Parliament"
(Peter Wentworth to Lord Raby, 29 July 1709; "Wentworth Papers," p. 97).
Thomas Coulson was elected M.P. for Totnes, with Sir Edward Seymour,
Bart., in 1698. He was re-elected in 1701, 1702, and in 1705. At the
election of 1708, Sir Edward Seymour, previously member for Exeter, was
elected for Totnes; but in 1710, Sir Edward having transferred himself
to Great Bedwyn, Coulson again became member for Totnes. In 1715,
Coulson's arrest was sought in the neighbourhood of Bristol for joining
in the rising on behalf of the Pretender; see a letter of Addison's in
Hist. MSS. Comm., Second Report, p. 250.]
[Footnote 445: "Hudibras," part i. canto ii. 105-6. Butler wrote, "I'
the head," &c.]
[Footnote 446: "I should have given you a key to the two _Tatlers_ I
sent you last, the Brussels Postscript are verses of Crowders. He show'd
them me in manuscript" (Peter Wentworth to Lord Raby, 29 July 1709;
"Wentworth Papers," p. 97). See No. 17 note on Brigadier Crowther.]
[Footnote 447: General Henry Withers commanded at the capitulation of
Tournay. On his death in 1729, he was buried in Westminster Abbey. Pope
wrote an epitaph beginning:
"Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind,
Thy country's friend, but more of human-kind."
]
[Footnote 448: John, second Duke of Argyle (1678-1743), took an active
part in the battles of Ramilies, Oudenarde, and Malplaquet, and at the
siege of Tournay.]
[Footnote 449: There was a long-standing hostility between the Duke of
Marlborough and the Duke of Argyle.]
No. 47. [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, July 26_, to _Thursday, July 28_, 1709.
Quicquid agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli.
Juv., Sat. i. 85, 86.
* * * * *
White's Chocolate-house, July 27.
My friend Sir Thomas[450] has communicated to me his letters from Epsom
of the 25th instant, which give, in general, a very good account of the
posture of affairs at present in that place; but that the tranquillity
and correspondence[451] of the company begins to be interrupted by the
arrival of Sir Taffety Trippet,[452] a fortune-hunter, whose follies
are too gross to give diversion; and whose vanity is too stupid to let
him be sensible that he is a public offence. But if people will indulge
a splenetic humour, it is impossible to be at ease, when such creatures
as are the scandal of our species, set up for gallantry and adventures.
It will be much more easy therefore to laugh him into reason, than
convert him from his foppery by any serious contempt. I knew a gentleman
that made it a maxim to open his doors, and ever run into the way of
bullies, to avoid their insolence. The rule will hold as well with
coxcombs: they are never mortified, but when they see you receive, and
despise them; otherwise they rest assured, that it is your ignorance
makes them out of your good graces; or, that it is only want of
admittance prevents their being amiable where they are shunned and
avoided. But Sir Taffety is a fop of so sanguine complexion, that I fear
it will be very hard for the fair one he at present pursues to get rid
of the chase, without being so tired, as for her own ease to fall into
the mouth of the mongrel she runs from. But the history of Sir Taffety
is as pleasant as his character. It happened, that when he first set up
for a fortune-hunter, he chose Tunbridge for the scene of action; where
were at that time two sisters upon the same design. The knight believed
of course the elder must be the better prize; and consequently makes all
his sail that way. People that want sense, do always in an egregious
manner want modesty, which made our hero triumph in making his amour as
public as was possible. The adored lady was no less vain of his public
addresses. An attorney with one cause is not half so restless as a woman
with one lover. Wherever they met, they talked to each other aloud,
chose each other partner at balls, saluted at the most conspicuous parts
of the service at church, and practised in honour of each other all the
remarkable particularities which are usual for persons who admire one
another, and are contemptible to the rest of the world. These two lovers
seemed as much made for each other as Adam and Eve, and all pronounced
it a match of Nature's own making; but the night before the nuptials (so
universally approved), the younger sister, envious of the good fortune
even of her sister, who had been present at most of their interviews,
and had an equal taste for the charms of a fop (as there are a set of
women made for that order of men); the younger, I say, unable to see so
rich a prize pass by her, discovered to Sir Taffety, that a coquette
air, much tongue, and three suits, was all the portion of his mistress.
His love vanished that moment, himself and equipage the next morning. It
is uncertain where the lover has been ever since engaged; but certain it
is, he has not appeared in his character as a follower of love and
fortune till he arrived at Epsom, where there is at present a young lady
of youth, beauty, and fortune, who has alarmed[453] all the vain and the
impertinent to infest that quarter. At the head of this assembly, Sir
Taffety shines in the brightest manner, with all the accomplishments
which usually ensnare the heart of woman; with this particular merit
(which often is of great service), that he is laughed at for her sake.
The friends of the fair one are in much pain for the sufferings she goes
through from the perseverance of this hero; but they may be much more so
from the danger of his succeeding, toward which they give him a helping
hand, if they dissuade her with bitterness; for there is a fantastical
generosity in the sex, to approve creatures of the least merit
imaginable, when they see the imperfections of their admirers are become
the marks of derision for their sakes; and there is nothing so frequent,
as that he who was contemptible to a woman in her own judgment, has won
her by being too violently opposed by others.
Grecian Coffee-house, July 27.
In the several capacities I bear, of astrologer, civilian, and
physician, I have with great application studied the public emolument:
to this end serve all my lucubrations, speculations, and whatever other
labours I undertake, whether nocturnal or diurnal. On this motive am I
induced to publish a never-failing medicine for the spleen: my
experience in this distemper came from a very remarkable cure on my ever
worthy friend Tom Spindle,[454] who, through excessive gaiety, had
exhausted that natural stock of wit and spirits he had long been blessed
with: he was sunk and flattened to the lowest degree imaginable, sitting
whole hours over the "Book of Martyrs," and "Pilgrim's Progress"; his
other contemplations never rising higher than the colour of his urine,
or regularity of his pulse. In this condition I found him, accompanied
by the learned Dr. Drachm, and a good old nurse. Drachm had prescribed
magazines of herbs, and mines of steel. I soon discovered the malady,
and descanted on the nature of it, till I convinced both the patient and
his nurse, that the spleen is not to be cured by medicine, but by
poetry. Apollo, the author of physic, shone with diffusive rays the best
of poets as well as of physicians; and it is in this double capacity
that I have made my way, and have found, sweet, easy, flowering numbers,
are oft superior to our noblest medicines. When the spirits are low, and
nature sunk, the muse, with sprightly and harmonious notes, gives an
unexpected turn with a grain of poetry, which I prepare without the use
of mercury. I have done wonders in this kind; for the spleen is like the
tarantula,[455] the effects of whose malignant poison are to be
prevented by no other remedy but the charms of music: for you are to
understand, that as some noxious animals carry antidotes for their own
poisons; so there is something equally unaccountable in poetry: for
though it is sometimes a disease, it is to be cured only by itself. Now
I knowing Tom Spindle's constitution, and that he is not only a pretty
gentleman, but also a pretty poet, found the true cause of his distemper
was a violent grief that moved his affections too strongly: for during
the late Treaty of Peace, he had written a most excellent poem on that
subject; and when he wanted but two lines in the last stanza for
finishing the whole piece, there comes news that the French tyrant would
not sign. Spindle in few days took his bed, and had lain there still,
had not I been sent for. I immediately told him, there was great
probability the French would now sue to us for peace. I saw immediately
a new life in his eyes; and knew, that nothing could help him forward
so well, as hearing verses which he would believe worse than his own; I
read him therefore the "Brussels Postscript";[456] after which I recited
some heroic lines of my own, which operated so strongly on the tympanum
of his ear, that I doubt not but I have kept out all other sounds for a
fortnight; and have reason to hope, we shall see him abroad the day
before his poem. This you see, is a particular secret I have found out,
viz., that you are not to choose your physician for his knowledge in
your distemper, but for having it himself. Therefore I am at hand for
all maladies arising from poetical vapours, beyond which I never
pretend. For being called the other day to one in love, I took indeed
their three guineas, and gave them my advice; which was, to send for
Æsculapius.[457] Æsculapius, as soon as he saw the patient, cries out,
"'Tis love! 'tis love! Oh! the unequal pulse! these are the symptoms a
lover feels; such sighs, such pangs, attend the uneasy mind; nor can our
art, or all our boasted skill, avail--Yet O fair! for thee--" Thus the
sage ran on, and owned the passion which he pitied, as well as that he
felt a greater pain than ever he cured. After which he concluded, "All I
can advise, is marriage: charms and beauty will give new life and
vigour, and turn the course of nature to its better prospect." This is
the new way; and thus Æsculapius has left his beloved powders, and
writes a recipe for a wife at sixty. In short, my friend followed the
prescription, and married youth and beauty in its perfect bloom.
_Supine in Silvia's snowy arms he lies,
And all the busy care of life defies:
Each happy hour is filled with fresh delight,
While peace the day, and pleasure crowns the night._
From my own Apartment, July 27.
Tragical passion was the subject of the discourse where I last visited
this evening; and a gentleman who knows that I am at present writing a
very deep tragedy, directed his discourse in a particular manner to me.
"It is the common fault," said he, "of you, gentlemen, who write in the
buskin style, that you give us rather the sentiments of such who behold
tragical events, than of such who bear a part in them themselves. I
would advise all who pretend this way, to read Shakespeare with care,
and they will soon be deterred from putting forth what is usually called
'tragedy.' The way of common writers in this kind, is rather the
description, than the expression of sorrow. There is no medium in these
attempts; and you must go to the very bottom of the heart, or it is all
mere language; and the writer of such lines is no more a poet, than a
man is a physician for knowing the names of distempers, without the
causes of them. Men of sense are professed enemies to all such empty
labours: for he who pretends to be sorrowful, and is not, is a wretch
yet more contemptible than he who pretends to be merry, and is not. Such
a tragedian is only maudlin drunk." The gentleman went on with much
warmth; but all he could say had little effect upon me: but when I came
hither, I so far observed his counsel, that I looked into Shakespeare.
The tragedy I dipped into was, "Harry the Fourth." In the scene where
Morton is preparing to tell Northumberland of his son's death, the old
man does not give him time to speak, but says,
"_The whiteness of thy cheeks
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand;
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woebegone,
Drew Priam's curtain at the dead of night,
And would have told him half his Troy was burnt:
But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy's death ere thou reportest it_"[458]
The image in this place is wonderfully noble and great; yet this man in
all this is but rising towards his great affliction, and is still enough
himself, as you see, to make a simile: but when he is certain of his
son's death, he is lost to all patience, and gives up all the regards of
this life; and since the last of evils is fallen upon him, he calls for
it upon all the world.
"_Now let not Nature's hand
Keep the wild flood confined; let Order die,
And let the world no longer be a stage,
To feed contention in a lingering act;
But let one spirit of the firstborn Cain
Reign in all bosoms, that each heart being set
On bloody courses, the wide scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead_."
Reading but this one scene has convinced me, that he who describes the
concern of great men, must have a soul as noble, and as susceptible of
high thoughts, as they whom he represents: I shall therefore lay by my
drama for some time, and turn my thoughts to cares and griefs, somewhat
below that of heroes, but no less moving. A misfortune proper for me to
take notice of, has too lately happened: the disconsolate Maria[459] has
three days kept her chamber for the loss of the beauteous Fidelia, her
lap-dog. Lesbia herself[460] did not shed more tears for her sparrow.
What makes her the more concerned, is, that we know not whether Fidelia
was killed or stolen; but she was seen in the parlour window when the
train-bands went by, and never since. Whoever gives notice of her, dead
or alive, shall be rewarded with a kiss of her lady.
[Footnote 450: See No. 16.]
[Footnote 451: Intercourse.]
[Footnote 452: Henry Cromwell (died 1728) was a correspondent of Pope's,
and a friend of Wycherley's. "I cannot choose," wrote Mrs. Elizabeth
Thomas, "but be pleased with the conquest of a person whose fame our
incomparable Tatler has rendered immortal, by the three distinguishing
titles of 'Squire Easy the amorous bard'; 'Sir Timothy the critic'; and
'Sir Taffety Trippet the fortune-hunter'" ("Pylades and Corinna," i. 96,
194). See also Nos. 49, 165. Cromwell was a man about town, of private
means, with property in Lincolnshire, who had contributed verses to
Tonson's "Miscellany." Gay ("Mr. Pope's Welcome from Greece," st. xvii.)
speaks of "Honest, hatless Cromwell, with red breeches."]
[Footnote 453: Called forth, drawn as with an alarum.]
[Footnote 454: Henry Cromwell; see note on p. 380. According to another
suggestion, Spindle is intended for Thomas Tickell, who published a
poem, "The Prospect of Peace," in 1713; but it is not probable that in
1709 either Addison or Steele would have satirised him; and Cromwell may
very likely have written verses on the same subject.]
[Footnote 455: A spider named from Tarentum, in Apulia. Strange stories
were told of the effects of its bite, and of their cure by music and
dancing.]
[Footnote 456: See No. 46.]
[Footnote 457: Dr. Radcliffe. See No. 44.]
[Footnote 458: 2 Henry IV., act i. sc. I.]
[Footnote 459: "This _Tatler_ I know nothing of, only they say the
Dutchess of Montague has lately lost a bitch she call'd fidel, and has
had it cry'd."--(Peter Wentworth to Lord Raby; "Wentworth Papers," p.
97.)]
[Footnote 460: See Catullus, passim.]
No. 48. [STEELE.
From _Thursday, July 28_, to _Saturday, July 30_, 1709.
--Virtutem verba putant, et
Lucum ligna.
HOR., 1 Ep. vi. 31.
* * * * *
From my own Apartment, July 29.
This day I obliged Pacolet to entertain me with matters which regarded
persons of his own character and occupation. We chose to take our walk
on Tower Hill; and as we were coming from thence in order to stroll as
far as Garraway's,[461] I observed two men, who had but just landed,
coming from the waterside. I thought there was something uncommon in
their mien and aspect; but though they seemed by their visage to be
related, yet was there a warmth in their manner, as if they differed
very much in their sentiments of the subject on which they were talking.
One of them seemed to have a natural confidence, mixed with an ingenious
freedom in his gesture, his dress very plain, but very graceful and
becoming: the other, in the midst of an overbearing carriage, betrayed
(by frequently looking round him) a suspicion that he was not enough
regarded by those he met, or that he feared they would make some attack
upon him. This person was much taller than his companion, and added to
that height the advantage of a feather in his hat, and heels to his
shoes so monstrously high, that he had three or four times fallen down,
had he not been supported by his friend. They made a full stop as they
came within a few yards of the place where we stood. The plain gentleman
bowed to Pacolet; the other looked on him with some displeasure: upon
which I asked him, who they both were, when he thus informed me of their
persons and circumstances.
"You may remember, Mr. Isaac, that I have often told you, there are
beings of a superior rank to mankind, who frequently visit the
habitations of men, in order to call them from some wrong pursuits in
which they are actually engaged, or divert them from methods which will
lead them into errors for the future. He that will carefully reflect
upon the occurrences of his life, will find he has been sometimes
extricated out of difficulties, and received favours where he could
never have expected such benefits; as well as met with cross events from
some unseen hand, which have disappointed his best laid designs. Such
accidents arrive from the interventions of aërial beings, as they are
benevolent or hurtful to the nature of man, and attend his steps in the
tracts of ambition, of business, and of pleasure. Before I ever appeared
to you in the manner I do now, I have frequently followed you in your
evening walks, and have often, by throwing some accident in your way, as
the passing by of a funeral, or the appearance of some other solemn
object, given your imagination a new turn, and changed a night you had
destined to mirth and jollity, into an exercise of study and
contemplation. I was the old soldier who met you last summer in Chelsea
Fields, and pretended that I had broken my wooden leg, and could not get
home; but I snapped it short off on purpose, that you might fall into
the reflections you did on that subject, and take me into your hack. If
you remember, you made yourself very merry on that fracture, and asked
me, whether I thought I should next winter feel cold in the toes of that
leg? As is usually observed, that those who lose limbs, are sensible of
pains in the extreme parts, even after those limbs are cut off. However,
my keeping you then in the story of the battle of the Boyne, prevented
an assignation, which would have led you into more disasters than I then
related.
"To be short; those two persons you see yonder, are such as I am; they
are not real men, but are mere shades and figures: one is named Alethes;
the other, Verisimilis. Their office is to be the guardians and
representatives of Conscience and Honour. They are now going to visit
the several parts of the town, to see how their interests in the world
decay or flourish, and to purge themselves from the many false
imputations they daily meet with in the commerce and conversation of
men. You observed Verisimilis frowned when he first saw me. What he is
provoked at, is, that I told him one day, though he strutted and dressed
with so much ostentation, if he kept himself within his own bounds, he
was but a lackey, and wore only that gentleman's livery whom he is now
with. This frets him to the heart; for you must know, he has pretended a
long time to set up for himself, and gets among a crowd of the more
unthinking part of mankind, who take him for a person of the first
quality; though his introduction into the world was wholly owing to his
present companion."
This encounter was very agreeable to me, and I was resolved to dog
them, and desired Pacolet to accompany me. I soon perceived what he told
me in the gesture of the persons: for when they looked at each other in
discourse, the well-dressed man suddenly cast down his eyes, and
discovered that the other had a painful superiority over him. After some
further discourse, they took leave. The plain gentleman went down
towards Thames Street, in order to be present, at least, at the oaths
taken at the Custom-house; and the other made directly for the heart of
the city. It is incredible how great a change there immediately appeared
in the man of honour when he got rid of his uneasy companion: he
adjusted the cock of his hat anew, settled his sword-knot, and had an
appearance that attracted a sudden inclination for him and his interests
in all who beheld him. "For my part," said I to Pacolet, "I cannot but
think you are mistaken in calling this person, of the lower quality; for
he looks much more like a gentleman than the other. Don't you observe
all eyes are upon him as he advances: how each sex gazes at his stature,
aspect, address, and motion?" Pacolet only smiled, and shaked his head;
as leaving me to be convinced by my own further observation. We kept on
our way after him till we came to Exchange Alley, where the plain
gentleman again came up to the other; and they stood together after the
manner of eminent merchants, as if ready to receive application; but I
could observe no man talk to either of them. The one was laughed at as a
fop; and I heard many whispers against the other, as a whimsical sort of
fellow, and a great enemy to trade. They crossed Cornhill together, and
came into the full 'Change, where some bowed, and gave themselves airs
in being known to so fine a man as Verisimilis, who, they said, had
great interests in all princes' courts; and the other was taken notice
of by several as one they had seen somewhere long before. One more
particularly said, he had formerly been a man of consideration in the
world; but was so unlucky, that they who dealt with him, by some strange
infatuation or other, had a way of cutting off their own bills, and were
prodigiously slow in improving their stock. But as much as I was curious
to observe the reception these gentlemen met with upon 'Change, I could
not help being interrupted by one that came up towards us, to whom
everybody made their compliments. He was of the common height, and in
his dress there seemed to be great care to appear no way particular,
except in a certain exact and feat[462] manner of behaviour and
circumspection. He was wonderfully careful that his shoes and clothes
should be without the least speck upon them; and seemed to think, that
on such an accident depended his very life and fortune. There was hardly
a man on 'Change who had not a note upon him; and each seemed very well
satisfied that their money lay in his hands, without demanding payment.
I asked Pacolet, what great merchant that was, who was so universally
addressed to, yet made too familiar an appearance to command that
extraordinary deference? Pacolet answered, "This person is the demon or
genius of credit: his name is Umbra. If you observe, he follows Alethes
and Verisimilis at a distance; and indeed has no foundation for the
figure he makes in the world, but that he is thought to keep their cash;
though at the same time, none who trust him would trust the others for a
groat." As the company rolled about, the three spectres were jumbled
into one place: when they were so, and all thought there was an alliance
between them, they immediately drew upon them the business of the whole
'Change. But their affairs soon increased to such an unwieldy bulk, that
Alethes took his leave, and said, he would not engage further than he
had an immediate fund to answer. Verisimilis pretended that though he
had revenues large enough to go on his own bottom, yet it was below one
of his family to condescend to trade in his own name; therefore he also
retired. I was extremely troubled to see the glorious mart of London
left with no other guardian, but him of credit. But Pacolet told me,
that traders had nothing to do with the honour or conscience of their
correspondents, provided they supported a general behaviour in the
world, which could not hurt their credit or their purses: "for," said
he, "you may in this one tract of building of London and Westminster see
the imaginary motives on which the greatest affairs move, as well as in
rambling over the face of the earth. For though Alethes is the real
governor, as well as legislator of mankind, he has very little business
but to make up quarrels, and is only a general referee, to whom every
man pretends to appeal; but is satisfied with his determinations no
further than they promote his own interest. Hence it is, that the
soldier and the courtier model their actions according to Verisimilis'
manner, and the merchant according to that of Umbra. Among these men,
honour and credit are not valuable possessions in themselves, or pursued
out of a principle of justice; but merely as they are serviceable to
ambition and to commerce. But the world will never be in any manner of
order or tranquillity, till men are firmly convinced, that conscience,
honour, and credit, are all in one interest; and that without the
concurrence of the former, the latter are but impositions upon ourselves
and others. The force these delusive words have, is not seen in the
transactions of the busy world only, but also have their tyranny over
the fair sex. Were you to ask the unhappy Lais, what pangs of
reflection, preferring the consideration of her honour to her
conscience, has given her? She could tell you, that it has forced her to
drink up half a gallon this winter of Tom Dassapas' potions; that she
still pines away for fear of being a mother; and knows not, but the
moment she is such, she shall be a murderess: but if conscience had as
strong a force upon the mind, as honour, the first step to her unhappy
condition had never been made; she had still been innocent, as she's
beautiful. Were men so enlightened and studious of their own good, as to
act by the dictates of their reason and reflection, and not the opinion
of others, Conscience would be the steady ruler of human life; and the
words, Truth, Law, Reason, Equity, and Religion, would be but synonymous
terms for that only guide which makes us pass our days in our own favour
and approbation."
[Footnote 461: A coffee-house in Exchange Alley, Cornhill, with an
auction-room on the first floor, where wine and other things were sold
(see No, 147). Thomas Garway was originally a tobacconist and
coffee-man. Defoe ("Journey through England") says that this
coffee-house was frequented by "the people of quality who have business
in the City, and the most considerable and wealthy citizens."]
[Footnote 462: Adroit.]
No. 49. [STEELE.