THACKERAY'S RESEARCHES AMONGST THE WRITINGS OF THE EARLY
ESSAYISTS--_Continued._
Characteristic Passages from the Works of The 'Humourists,' from
Thackeray's Library, illustrated by the Author's hand, with
Marginal Sketches suggested by the Text -- THE 'WORLD,' 1753 --
Introduction -- Its Difference from the Earlier Essays --
Distinguished Authors who contributed to the 'World' --
Paragraphs and Pencillings.
The 'World'--writes Dr. Chalmers, in his historical and biographical
preface to this series--differs from its predecessors in the general
plan, although the ultimate tendency is similar. We have here no
philosophy of morals, no indignant censure of the grosser vices, no
critical disquisitions, and, in general, scarcely anything serious.
Irony is the predominant feature. This caustic species of wit is
employed in the 'World' to execute purposes which other methods had
failed to accomplish.
The authors of these essays affected to consider the follies of their
day as beneath their notice, and therefore tried what good might be
done by turning them into ridicule, under the mask of defence or
apology, and thus ingeniously demonstrated that every defence of what
is in itself absurd and wrong, must either partake of the ridiculous,
or be intolerable and repugnant to common sense and reason. With such
intentions, notwithstanding their apparent good humour, they may,
perhaps, in the apprehension of many readers, appear more severe
censors of the foibles of the age than any who have gone before them.
The design, as professed in the first paper, was to ridicule, with
novelty and good humour, the fashions, foibles, vices, and absurdities
of that part of the human species which calls itself 'The World;' and
this the principal writers were enabled to execute with facility, from
the knowledge incidental to their rank in life, the elevated sphere
in which they moved, their intercourse with a part of society not
easily accessible to authors in general, and the good sense which
prevented them from being blinded by the glare or enslaved by the
authority of fashion.
The 'World' was projected by Edward Moore[25]--in conjunction with
Robert Dodsley, the eminent publisher of Johnson's 'Dictionary'--who
fixed upon the name; and by defraying the expense, and rewarding
Moore, became, and for many years continued to be, the sole proprietor
of the work.
Edward Moore's abilities, his modest demeanour, inoffensive manners,
and moral conduct, recommended him to the men of genius and learning
of the age, and procured him the patronage of Lord Lyttleton, who
engaged his friends to assist him in the way which a man not wholly
dependent would certainly prefer. Dodsley, the publisher, stipulated
to pay Moore three guineas for every paper of the 'World' which he
should write, or which might be sent for publication and approved of.
Lord Lyttleton, to render this bargain effectual, and an easy source
of emolument to his _protégé_, solicited the assistance of such men as
are not often found willing to contribute the labours of the pen, men
of high rank in the state, and men of fame and fashion, who cheerfully
undertook to supply the paper, while Moore reaped the emolument, and
perhaps for a time enjoyed the reputation of the whole. But when it
became known, as the information soon circulated in whispers, that
such men as the Earls of Chesterfield, Bath, and Cork--that Horace
Walpole, Richard Owen Cambridge, and Soame Jenyns--besides other
persons of both distinction and parts--were leagued in a scheme of
authorship to amuse the town, and that the 'World' was the bow of
Ulysses, in which it was 'the fashion for men of rank and genius to
try their strength,' we may easily suppose that it would excite the
curiosity of the public in an uncommon degree.
The first paper was published January 24, 1753; it was consequently
contemporary with the 'Adventurer,' which began November 7, 1752; but
as the 'World' was published only once a week, it outlived the
'Adventurer' nearly two years, during which time it ran its course
also with the 'Connoisseur.' It was of the same size and type and at
the same price with the 'Rambler' and 'Adventurer,' but the sale in
numbers was superior to either. In No. 3, Lord Chesterfield states
that the number sold weekly was two thousand, which number, he adds,
'exceeds the largest that was ever printed, even of the "Spectator."'
In No. 49, he hints that 'not above _three_ thousand were sold.' The
sale was probably not regular, and would be greater on the days when
rumour announced his lordship as the writer. The usual number printed
was two thousand five hundred, as stated in a letter from Moore to Dr.
Warton. Notwithstanding the able assistance of his right honourable
friends, Moore wrote sixty-one of these papers, and part of another.
He excelled principally in assuming the serious manner for the
purposes of ridicule, or of raising idle curiosity; his irony is
admirably concealed. However trite his subject, he enlivens it by
original turns of thought.
In the last paper, the conclusion of the work is made to depend on a
fictitious accident which is supposed to have happened to the author
and occasioned his death. When the papers were collected in volumes,
Moore superintended the publication, and actually died while this last
paper was in the press: a circumstance somewhat singular, when we look
at the contents of it, and which induces us to wish that death may be
less frequently included among the topics of wit.
It has been the general opinion, for the honour of rank, that the
papers written by men of that description in the 'World' are superior
to those of Moore, or of his assistants of 'low degree.' It may be
conceded that among the contributories the first place is due, in
point of genius, taste, and elegance, to the pen of Philip Dormer
Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield.
Lord Chesterfield's services to this paper were purely voluntary, but
a circumstance occurred to his first communication which had nearly
disinclined him to send a second. He sent his paper to the publisher
without any notice of its authorship; it underwent a casual
inspection, and, from its length, was at least delayed, if not
positively rejected. Fortunately Lord Lyttleton saw it at Dodsley's,
and knew the hand. Moore then hastened to publish the paper (No. 18),
and thought proper to introduce it with an apology for the delay, and
a neat compliment to the wit and good sense of his correspondent.
Chesterfield continued his papers occasionally, and wrote in all
twenty-three numbers, certainly equal, if not superior, in brilliancy
of wit and novelty of thought, to the most popular productions of this
kind.
A certain interest surrounds most of the authors who assisted in the
'World,' and many of the papers were written under circumstances which
increase the attraction of their contents. We have not space to
particularise special essays, or to enter upon the biographical
details which properly belong to our subject; we must restrict further
notice to a mere recapitulation of the contributors and their pieces.
Richard Owen Cambridge, the author of the 'Scribleriad,' wrote in all
twenty-one papers. Horace Walpole was the author of nine papers in the
'World,' all of which excel in keen satire, shrewd remark, easy and
scholarly diction, and knowledge of mankind; indeed, for sprightly
humour these papers probably excel all his other writings, and most of
those of his contemporaries. For five papers we are indebted to Soame
Jenyns, who held the office and rank of one of the Lords Commissioners
of the Board of Trade and Plantations. James Tilson, Consul at Cadiz,
furnished five papers of considerable merit and novelty. Five papers,
chiefly of the more serious kind, were contributed by Edward
Loveybond; the 'Tears of Old May-Day,' No. 82 of the 'World,' is
esteemed one of his best poetic compositions.
W. Whitehead, the Poet Laureate, wrote three papers, Nos. 12, 19, and
58. Nos. 79, 156, 202 were written by Richard Berenger, Gentleman of
the Horse to the King. Sir James Marriott, Judge of the High Court of
Admiralty, and Master of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, wrote Nos. 117, 121,
199. The 'Adventures of the Pumpkin Family,' zealous to defend their
honour, given in Nos. 47 and 63, were written by John, Earl of Cork
and Orrery, the amiable nobleman who, as Johnson whimsically declared,
'_was so generally civil, that nobody thanked him for it_.' The Earl
of Cork is also said to have contributed Nos. 161 and 185; he took a
more active part in the 'Connoisseur.'
To his son, Mr. Hamilton Boyle, who afterwards succeeded to the
earl's title, the 'World' was indebted for Nos. 60 and 170, two papers
drawn up with vivacity, humour, and elegance.
William Pulteney, Earl of Bath, to whom the second volume of the
'Guardian' was dedicated, contributed to the 'World,' in his
seventy-first year, No. 7, a lively paper on horse-racing and the
manners of Newmarket.
Three papers, Nos. 140, 147, and 204, specimens of easy and natural
humour, came from the pen of Sir David Dalrymple, better known as Lord
Hailes, one of the senators of the College of Justice in Scotland; in
advanced life Lord Hailes contributed several papers remarkable for
vivacity and point to the 'Mirror.' William Duncombe, a poetical and
miscellaneous writer, was the author of the allegory in No. 84; his
son, the Rev. John Duncombe, of Canterbury, was the author of No. 36.
The latter gentleman appears in connection with the 'Connoisseur.'
Nos. 38 and 74 were written by Mr. Parratt, the author of some poems
in Dodsley's collection. Nos. 78 and 86 are from the pen of the Rev.
Thomas Cole.
The remaining writers in the 'World' were single-paper men, but some
of them of considerable distinction in other departments of literary
and of public life.
No. 15 was written by the Rev. Francis Coventrye. No. 26 was the
production of Dr. Thomas Warton, who was then contributing to the
'Adventurer.' In No. 32 criticism is treated with considerable humour
as a species of disease by the publisher, Robert Dodsley, whose
popularity extended to all ranks.
No. 37, like Lord Chesterfield's first contributions, was accorded the
honour of an extra half-sheet, rather than that the excellences of the
letter should be curtailed. It is not only the longest, but is
considered one of the best papers in the collection. It was written by
Sir Charles Hunbury Williams, for some time the English Minister at
the Courts of Berlin and St. Petersburgh. A humorous letter on posts
(No. 45) was from the pen of William Hayward Roberts, afterwards
Provost of Eton College, Chaplain to the King, and Rector of Farnham
Royal, Buckinghamshire. One of the best papers for delicate irony to
be found in the entire series of humorous essayists, No. 83, on the
'Manufactory of Thunder and Lightning,' was written by Mr. William
Whittaker, a serjeant-at-law and a Welsh judge.
Nos. 110 and 159 are attributed to John Gilbert Cooper, author of the
'Life of Socrates,' and 'Letters on Taste.' Thomas Mulso, a brother of
Mrs. Chapone, is set down as the writer of No. 31. He published, in
1768, 'Calistus, or the Man of Fashion,' and 'Sophronius, or the
Country Gentleman in Dialogues.' James Ridley, author of the 'Tales of
the Genii' and of the 'Schemer,' contributed No. 155. Mr. Gataker, a
surgeon of eminence, was the author of No. 184. Mr. Herring, rector of
Great Mongeham, Kent, wrote No. 122, on the 'Distresses of a Physician
without Patronage.' Mr. Moyle wrote No. 156, on 'False Honour,' and
Mr. Burgess No. 198, an excellent paper on the 'Difficulty of Getting
Rid of Oneself.' The 'Ode to Sculpture,' in No. 200, was written by
James Scott, D.D. Forty-one papers were written by persons whose names
were either unknown to the publisher, or who desired to remain
anonymous.
The 'World' has been frequently reprinted, and will probably always
remain a favourite, for its materials, although sustained by the most
whimsical raillery, are not of a perishable kind. The manners of
fashionable life are not so mutable in their principles as is commonly
supposed, and those who practise them may at least boast that they
have stronger stamina than to yield to the attacks of wit or morals.
No. 7. THE 'WORLD.'--_Feb. 15, 1753._
'Whoever is a frequenter of public assemblies, or joins in a party of
cards in private families, will give evidence to the truth of this
complaint.
'How common is it with some people, at the conclusion of every
unsuccessful hand of cards, to burst forth into sallies of fretful
complaints of their own amazing ill-fortune and the constant and
invariable success of their antagonists! They have such excellent
memories as to be able to recount every game they have lost for six
months successively, and yet are so extremely forgetful at the same
time as not to recollect a single game they have won. Or if you put
them in mind of any extraordinary success that you have been witness
to, they acknowledge it with reluctance, and assure you, upon their
honours, that in a whole twelvemonth's play they never rose winners
but that once.
'But if these _growlers_ (a name which I shall always call men of this
class by) would only content themselves with giving repeated histories
of their ill-fortunes, without making invidious remarks on the success
of others, the evil would not be so great.
[Illustration]
'Indeed, I am apt to impute it to their fears, that they stop short of
the grossest affronts; for I have seen in their faces such rancour and
inveteracy, that nothing but a lively apprehension of consequences
could have restrained their tongues.
'Happy would it be for the ladies if they had the consequences to
apprehend; for, I am sorry to say it, I have met with female, I will
not say _growlers_, the word is too harsh for them; let me call them
_fretters_, who with the prettiest faces and the liveliest wit
imaginable, have condescended to be the jest and the disturbance of
the whole company.'
No. 18. THE 'WORLD.'--_May 3, 1753._
A worthy gentleman, who is suffering from the consequences of treating
his wife and daughter to a visit to Paris, is describing, in a letter
to Mr. FitzAdam, the follies into which the ladies of his party were
betrayed 'in order to fit themselves out to appear, as the French say,
_honnêtement_.'
'In about three days,' writes the victim of these vagaries of fashion,
'the several mechanics, who were charged with the care of disguising
my wife and daughter, brought home their respective parts of the
transformation. More than the whole morning was employed in this
operation, for we did not sit down to dinner till near five o'clock.
When my wife and daughter came at last into the eating-room, where I
had waited for them at least two hours, I was so struck with their
transformation that I could neither conceal nor express my
astonishment. "Now, my dear," said my wife, "we can appear a little
like Christians." "And strollers too," replied I; "for such have I
seen at Southwark Fair. This cannot surely be serious!" "Very serious,
depend upon it, my dear," said my wife; "and pray, by the way, what
may there be ridiculous in it?"
'Addressing myself to my wife and daughter, I told them I perceived
that there was a painter now in Paris who coloured much higher than
Rigault, though he did not paint near so like; for that I could hardly
have guessed them to be the pictures of themselves. To this they both
answered at once, that red was not paint; that no colour in the world
was _fard_ but white, of which they protested they had none.
'"But how do you like my _pompon_, papa?" continued my daughter; "is
it not a charming one? I think it is prettier than mamma's." "It may
be, child, for anything that I know; because I do not know what part
of all this frippery thy _pompon_ is." "It is this, papa," replied the
girl, putting up her hand to her head, and showing me in the middle of
her hair a complication of shreds and rags of velvets, feathers, and
ribands, stuck with false stones of a thousand colours, and placed
awry.
[Illustration]
'"But what hast thou done to thy hair, child, and why is it blue? Is
that painted, too, by the same eminent hand that coloured thy cheeks?"
"Indeed, papa," answered the girl, "as I told you before, there is no
painting in the case; but what gives my hair that bluish cast is the
grey powder, which has always that effect on dark-coloured hair, and
sets off the complexion wonderfully." "Grey powder, child!" said I,
with some surprise; "grey hairs I knew were venerable; but till this
moment I never knew they were genteel." "Extremely so, with some
complexions," said my wife; "but it does not suit with mine, and I
never use it." "You are much in the right, my dear," replied I, "not
to play with edge-tools. Leave it to the girl." This, which perhaps
was too hastily said, was not kindly taken; my wife was silent all
dinner-time, and I vainly hoped ashamed. My daughter, intoxicated with
her dress, kept up the conversation with herself, till the
long-wished-for moment of the opera came, which separated us, and left
me time to reflect upon the extravagances which I had already seen,
and upon the still greater which I had but too much reason to dread.'
No. 21. THE 'WORLD.'--_May 24, 1753._
I am not so partial to the ladies, particularly the unmarried ones, as
to imagine them without fault; on the contrary, I am going to accuse
them of a very great one, which, if not put a stop to before the warm
weather comes in, no mortal can tell to what lengths it may be
carried. You have already hinted at this fault in the sex, under the
genteel appellation of moulting their dress. If necks, shoulders, &c.,
have begun to shed their covering in winter, what a general display of
nature are we to expect this summer, when the excuse of heat may be
alleged in favour of such a display! I called some time ago upon a
friend of mine near St. James's, who, upon my asking where his sister
was, told me, "At her toilette, undressing for the ridetto." That the
expression may be intelligible to every one of your readers, I beg
leave to inform them that it is the fashion for a lady to undress
herself to go abroad, and to dress only when she stays at home and
sees no company.
[Illustration]
'It may be urged, perhaps, that the nakedness in fashion is intended
only to be emblematical of the innocence of the present generation of
young ladies; as we read of our first mother before the fall, that
_she was naked and not ashamed_; but I cannot help thinking that her
daughters of these times should convince us that they are entirely
free from original sin, or else be ashamed of their nakedness.
'I would ask any pretty miss about town, if she ever went a second
time to see the wax-work, or the lions, or even the dogs or the
monkeys, with the same delight as at first? Certain it is that the
finest show in the world excites but little curiosity in those who
have seen it before. "That was a very fine picture," says my lord,
"_but I had seen it before_." "'Twas a sweet song," says my lady,
"_but I had heard it before_." "A very fine poem," says the critic,
"_but I had read it before_." Let every lady, therefore, take care,
that while she is displaying in public a bosom whiter than snow, the
men do not look as if they were saying, "'Tis very pretty, _but we
have seen it before_."'
No. 23. THE 'WORLD.'--_June 7, 1753._
'A recent visit to Bedlam revived an opinion I have often entertained,
that the maddest people in the kingdom are not _in_ but _out_ of
Bedlam. I have frequently compared in my own mind the actions of
certain persons whom we daily meet with in the world with those of
Bedlam, who, properly speaking, may be said to be out of it; and I
know of no difference between them, than that the former are mad with
their reason about them, and the latter so from the misfortune of
having lost it. But what is extraordinary in this age, when, to its
honour be it spoken, charity is become fashionable, these unhappy
wretches are suffered to run loose about the town, raising riots in
public assemblies, beating constables, breaking lamps, damning
parsons, affronting modesty, disturbing families, and destroying their
own fortunes and constitutions; and all this without any provision
being made for them, or the least attempt being made to cure them of
this madness in their blood.
'The miserable objects I am speaking of are divided into two classes:
the Men of Spirit about town, and the Bucks. The Men of Spirit have
some glimmerings of understanding, the Bucks none; the former are
demoniacs, or people possessed; the latter are uniformly and incurably
mad. For the reception and confinement of both these classes, I would
humbly propose that two very spacious buildings should be erected, the
one called the hospital for the Men of Spirit or demoniacs, and the
other the hospital for the Bucks or incurables.
[Illustration]
'That after such hospitals are built, proper officers appointed, and
doctors, surgeons, apothecaries, and mad nurses provided, all young
noblemen and others within the bills of mortality having common sense,
who shall be found offending against the rules of decency, shall
immediately be conducted to the hospital for demoniacs, there to be
exorcised, physicked, and disciplined into a proper use of their
senses; and that full liberty be granted to all persons whatsoever to
visit, laugh at, and make sport of these demoniacs, without let or
molestation from any of the keepers, according to the present custom
of Bedlam. To the Buck hospital for incurables, I would have all such
persons conveyed that are mad through folly, ignorance, or conceit;
therefore to be shut up for life, not only to be prevented from doing
mischief, but from exposing in their own persons the weaknesses and
miseries of mankind. The incurables on no pretence whatsoever are to
be visited or ridiculed; as it would be altogether as inhuman to
insult the unhappy wretches who never were possessed of their senses,
as to make a jest of those who have unfortunately lost them.'
No. 34. THE 'WORLD.'--_Aug. 23, 1753._
'I am well aware that there are certain of my readers who have no
belief in WITCHES; but I am willing to hope they are only those who
either have not read, or else have forgot, the proceedings against
them published at large in the state trials. If there is any man alive
who can deny his assent to the positive and circumstantial evidence
given against them in these trials, I shall only say that I pity most
sincerely the hardness of his heart.
[Illustration]
'What is it but _witchcraft_ that occasions that universal and
uncontrollable rage for play, by which the nobleman, the man of
fashion, the merchant and the tradesman, with their wives, sons, and
daughters, are running headlong to ruin? What is it but _witchcraft_
that conjures up that spirit of pride and passion for expense by which
all classes of men, from his grace at Westminster to the salesman at
Wapping, are entailing beggary upon their old age, and bequeathing
their children to poverty and to the parish? I shall conclude by
signifying my intention, one day or other, of hiring a porter and
sending him with a hammer and nails, and a large quantity of
horse-shoes, to certain houses in the purlieus of St James's. I
believe it may not be amiss (as a charm against play) if he had orders
to fix a whole dozen of these horse-shoes at the door of _White's_.'
No. 37. THE 'WORLD.'--_Sept. 13, 1753._
ON TOAD-EATING.
_'To Mr. FitzAdam._
'Sir,--I am the widow of a merchant with whom I lived happily and in
affluence for many years. We had no children, and when he died he left
me all he had; but his affairs were so involved that the balance which
I received, after having gone through much expense and trouble, was no
more than one thousand pounds. This sum I placed in the hands of a
friend of my husband's, who was reckoned a good man in the City, and
who allowed me an interest of four per cent, for my capital; and with
this forty pounds a year I retired and boarded in a village about a
hundred miles from London.
'There was a lady, an old lady, of great fortune in that
neighbourhood, who visited often at the house where I lodged; she
pretended, after a short acquaintance, to take a great liking to me;
she professed friendship for me, and at length persuaded me to come
and live with her.
'One day, when her ladyship had treated me with uncommon kindness for
my having taken her part in a dispute with one of her relations, I
received a letter from London, to inform me that the person in whose
hands I had placed my fortune, and who till that time had paid my
interest money very exactly, was broke, and had left the kingdom.
'I handed the letter to her ladyship, who immediately read it over
with more attention than emotion.
'Whenever Lady Mary spoke to me she had hitherto called me Mrs.
Truman; but the very next morning at breakfast she left out Mrs.; and
upon no greater provocation than breaking a teacup, she made me
thoroughly sensible of her superiority and my dependence. "Lord,
Truman! you are so awkward; pray be more careful for the future, or we
shall not live long together. Do you think I can afford to have my
china broken at this rate, and maintain you into the bargain?"
[Illustration]
'From this moment I was obliged to drop the name and character of
friend, which I had hitherto maintained with a little dignity, and to
take up with that which the French call _complaisante_, and the
English _humble companion_. But it did not stop here; for in a week I
was reduced to be as miserable a toad-eater as any in Great Britain,
which in the strictest sense of the word is a servant; except that the
toad-eater has the honour of dining with my lady, and the misfortune
of receiving no wages.'
No. 46. THE 'WORLD.'--_Nov. 15, 1753._
[Illustration]
'A correspondent who is piqued at not being recognised by the great
people to whom he has been but recently presented, is very
unreasonable, for he cannot but have observed at the playhouses and
other public places, from the number of glasses used by people of
fashion, that they are naturally short-sighted.
'It is from this visual defect that a great man is apt to mistake
fortune for honour, a service of plate for a good name, and his
neighbour's wife for his own.'
No. 47. THE 'WORLD.'--_Nov. 22, 1753._
_'To Mr. FitzAdam._
'Sir,--Dim-sighted as I am, my spectacles have assisted me
sufficiently to read your papers. As a recompense for the pleasure I
have received from them, I send you a family anecdote, which till now
has never appeared in print. I am the grand-daughter of Sir Josiah
Pumpkin, of Pumpkin Hall, in South Wales. I was educated at the
hall-house of my own ancestors, under the care and tuition of my
honoured grandfather. It was the constant custom of my grandfather,
when he was tolerably free from the gout, to summon his three
grand-daughters to his bedside, and amuse us with the most important
transactions of his life. He told us he hoped we would have children,
to whom some of his adventures might prove useful and instructive.
'Sir Josiah was scarce nineteen years old when he was introduced at
the Court of Charles the Second, by his uncle Sir Simon Sparrowgrass,
who was at that time Lancaster herald-at-arms, and in great favour at
Whitehall.
'As soon as he had kissed the King's hand, he was presented to the
Duke of York, and immediately afterwards to the ministers and the
mistresses. His fortune, which was considerable, and his manners,
which were elegant, made him so very acceptable in all companies, that
he had the honour to be plunged at once into every polite party of
wit, pleasure, and expense, that the courtiers could possibly display.
He danced with the ladies, he drank with the gentlemen, he sang loyal
catches, and broke bottles and glasses in every tavern throughout
London. But still he was by no means a perfect fine gentleman. He had
not fought a DUEL. He was so extremely unfortunate as never to have
had even the happiness of a _rencontre_. The want of opportunity, not
of courage, had occasioned this inglorious chasm in his character. He
appeared, not only to the whole court, but even in his own eye, an
unworthy and degenerate Pumpkin, till he had shown himself as expert
in opening a vein with a sword as any surgeon in England could be with
a lancet. Things remained in this unhappy situation till he was near
two-and-twenty years of age.
[Illustration]
'At length his better stars prevailed, and he received a most
egregious affront from Mr. Cucumber, one of the gentlemen-ushers of
the privy-chamber. Cucumber, who was in waiting at court, spit
inadvertently into the chimney, and as he stood next to Sir Josiah
Pumpkin, part of the spittle rested upon Sir Josiah's shoe. It was
then that the true Pumpkin honour arose in blushes upon his cheeks. He
turned upon his heel, went home immediately, and sent Mr. Cucumber a
challenge. Captain Daisy, a friend to each party, not only carried
the challenge, but adjusted preliminaries. The heroes were to fight in
Moorfields, and to bring fifteen seconds on a side. Punctuality is a
strong instance of valour upon these occasions; the clock of St.
Paul's struck seven just when the combatants were marking out their
ground, and each of the two-and-thirty gentlemen was adjusting himself
into a posture of defence against his adversary. It happened to be the
hour for breakfast in the hospital of Bedlam. A small bell had rung to
summon the Bedlamites into the great gallery. The keepers had already
unlocked the cells, and were bringing forth their mad folks, when the
porter of Bedlam, Owen Macduffy, standing at the iron gate, and
beholding such a number of armed men in the fields, immediately roared
out, "Fire, murder, swords, daggers, bloodshed!" Owen's voice was
always remarkably loud, but his fears had rendered it still louder and
more tremendous. His words struck a panic into the keepers; they lost
all presence of mind, they forgot their prisoners, and hastened most
precipitately down stairs to the scene of action. At the sight of the
naked swords their fears increased, and at once they stood
open-mouthed and motionless. Not so the lunatics; freedom to madmen
and light to the blind are equally rapturous. Ralph Rogers, the
tinker, began the alarm. His brains had been turned with joy at the
Restoration, and the poor wretch imagined that this glorious set of
combatants were Roundheads and Fanatics, and accordingly he cried out,
"Liberty and property, my boys! Down with the Rump! Cromwell and
Ireton are come from hell to destroy us. Come, my Cavalier lads,
follow me, and let us knock out their brains." The Bedlamites
immediately obeyed, and, with the tinker at their head, leaped over
the balusters of the staircase, and ran wildly into the fields. In
their way they picked up some staves and cudgels, which the porters
and the keepers had inadvertently left behind, and, rushing forward
with amazing fury, they forced themselves outrageously into the midst
of the combatants, and in one unlucky moment disturbed all the decency
and order with which this most illustrious duel had begun.
'It seemed, according to my grandfather's observation, a very untoward
fate that two-and-thirty gentlemen of courage, honour, fortune, and
quality should meet together in hopes of killing each other with all
that resolution and politeness which belonged to their stations, and
should at once be routed, dispersed, and even wounded by a set of
madmen, without sword, pistol, or any other more honourable weapon
than a cudgel.
'The madmen were not only superior in strength, but numbers. Sir
Josiah Pumpkin and Mr. Cucumber stood their ground as long as
possible, and they both endeavoured to make the lunatics the sole
object of their mutual revenge; but the two friends were soon
overpowered, and, no person daring to come to their assistance, each
of them made as proper a retreat as the place and circumstances would
admit.
[Illustration]
'Many other gentlemen were knocked down and trampled under foot. Some
of them, whom my grandfather's generosity would never name, betook
themselves to flight in a most inglorious manner. An earl's son was
spied clinging submissively round the feet of mad Pocklington, the
tailor. A young baronet, although naturally intrepid, was obliged to
conceal himself at the bottom of Pippin Kate's apple-stall. A
Shropshire squire, of three thousand pounds a year, was discovered,
chin deep and almost stifled, in Fleet Ditch. Even Captain Daisy
himself was found in a milk-cellar, with visible marks of fear and
consternation. Thus ended this inauspicious day. But the madmen
continued their outrages many days after. It was near a week before
they were all retaken and chained to their cells, and during that
interval of liberty they committed many offensive pranks throughout
the cities of London and Westminster.
[Illustration]
'Such unforeseen disasters occasioned some prudent regulations in the
laws of honour. It was enacted from that time that six combatants
(three on a side) might be allowed and acknowledged to contain such a
quantity of blood in their veins as should be sufficient to satisfy
the highest affront that could be offered.'
No. 64. THE 'WORLD.'--_March 21, 1754._
One of Mr. FitzAdam's correspondents is describing a morning he spent
in the library of Lord Finican, with which nobleman he was invited to
breakfast:--
'I now fell to the books with a good appetite, intending to make a
full meal; and while I was chewing upon a piece of Tully's
philosophical writings, my lord came in upon me. His looks discovered
great uneasiness, which I attributed to the effects of the last
night's diversions; but good manners requiring me to prefer his
lordship's conversation to my own amusement, I replaced his book, and
by the sudden satisfaction in his countenance perceived that the cause
of his perturbation was my holding open the book with a pinch of snuff
in my fingers. He said he was glad to see me, for he should not have
known else what to have done with himself. I returned the compliment
by saying I thought he could not want entertainment amidst so choice
a collection of books. "Yes," replied he, "the collection is not
without elegance; but I read men only now, for I finished my studies
when I set out on my travels. You are not the first who has admired my
library; and I am allowed to have as fine a taste in books as any man
in England."
'Hereupon he showed me a "Pastor Fido," bound in green and decorated
with myrtle-leaves. He then took down a volume of Tillotson, in a
black binding, with the leaves as white as a law-book, and gilt on the
back with little mitres and crosiers; and lastly, Cæsar's
"Commentaries," clothed in red and gold, in imitation of the military
uniform of English officers.'
[Illustration]
The literary gentleman finally elicits that his lordship's books are
simply selected for fashion and show, and that they are never read,
Lord Finican having long given up the study of books, and merely
collecting a library to establish the excellence of his taste.
No. 68. THE 'WORLD.'--_April 18, 1754._
Mr. FitzAdam prints a letter received from a widow, describing the
real facts of the injuries by which her husband had lost his life in a
duel:--
'Mr. Muzzy was very fat and extremely lethargic, and so stupidly heavy
that he fell asleep even in musical assemblies, and snored in the
playhouse, as loud, poor man! as he used to snore in bed. However,
having received many taunts and reproaches, he resolved to challenge
his own cousin-german, Brigadier Truncheon, of Soho Square. It seems
the person challenged fixed upon the place and weapons. Truncheon, a
deep-sighted man, chose Primrose Hill for the field of battle, and
swords for the weapons of defence. To avoid suspicion and to prevent a
discovery, they were to walk together from Piccadilly, where we then
lived, to the summit of Primrose Hill. Truncheon's scheme took effect.
Mr. Muzzy was much fatigued and out of breath with the walk. However,
he drew his sword; and, as he assured me himself, began to attack his
cousin with valour. The brigadier went back; Mr. Muzzy pursued; but
not having his adversary's alacrity, he stopped a little to take
breath. He stopped, alas! too long: his lethargy came on with more
than usual violence; he first dozed as he stood upon his legs, and
then beginning to nod forward, dropped by degrees upon his face in a
most profound sleep.
[Illustration]
'Truncheon, base man! took this opportunity to wound my husband as he
lay snoring on the ground; and he had the cunning to direct his stab
in such a manner as to make it supposed that Mr. Muzzy had fled, and
in his flight had received a wound in the most ignominious part of his
body. You will ask what became of the seconds. They were both killed
upon the spot; but being only two servants, the one a butler and the
other a cook, they were buried the same night; and by the power of a
little money, properly applied, no further inquiry was made about
them.
'Mr. Muzzy, wounded as he was, might probably have slept upon that
spot for many hours, had he not been awakened by the cruel bites of a
mastiff. My poor husband was thoroughly awakened by the new hurt he
had received; and indeed it was impossible to have slept while he was
losing whole collops of the fattest and most pulpy part of his flesh:
so that he was brought home to me much more wounded by the teeth of
the mastiff than by the sword of his cousin Truncheon.' The wound
eventually mortified, Mr. Muzzy lost his life, and the writer became a
widow.
No. 82. THE 'WORLD.'--_July 25, 1754._
'THE TEARS OF OLD MAY-DAY.
'Led by the jocund train of vernal hours,
And vernal airs, up rose the gentle May,
Blushing she rose and blushing rose the flowers
That spring spontaneous in her genial ray.
'Her locks with Heaven's ambrosial dews were bright,
And am'rous Zephyrs flutter'd on her breast;
With ev'ry shifting gleam of morning light
The colours shifted of her rainbow vest.
'Imperial ensigns graced her smiling form,
A golden key and golden wand she bore;
This charms to peace each sullen eastern storm,
And that unlocks the summer's copious store.
'Vain hope, no more in choral bands unite
Her virgin vot'ries, and at early dawn,
Sacred to May and Love's mysterious rite,
Brush the light dewdrops[26] from the spangled lawn.
'To her no more Augusta's[27] wealthy pride
Pours the full tribute of Potosi's mine;
Nor fresh-blown garlands village maids provide,
A purer off'ring at her rustic shrine.
'No more the May-pole's verdant height around,
To valour's games th' adventurous youth advance;
To merry bells and tabor's sprightlier sound
Wake the loud carol and the sportive dance.'
'I have hinted more than once that the present age (1754),
notwithstanding the vices and follies with which it abounds, has the
happiness of standing as high in my opinion as any age whatsoever. But
it has always been the fashion to believe that from the beginning of
the world to the present day men have been increasing in wickedness.
'I believe that all vices will be found to exist amongst us much in
the same degree as heretofore, forms only changing.
'Our grandfathers used to get drunk with strong beer and port; we get
drunk with claret and champagne. They would lie abominably to conceal
their peccadilloes; we lie as abominably in boasting of ours. They
stole slily in at the back-door of a bagnio; we march in boldly at the
front-door, and immediately steal out slily at the back-door. Our
mothers were prudes; their daughters coquettes. The first dressed like
modest women, and perhaps were wantons; the last dress like women of
pleasure, and perhaps are virtuous. Those treated without hanging out
a sign; these hang out a sign without intending to treat. To be still
more particular: the abuse of power, the views of patriots, the
flattery of dependents, and the promises of great men are, I believe,
pretty much the same now as in former ages. Vices that we have no
relish for, we part with for those we like; giving up avarice for
prodigality, hypocrisy for profligacy, and looseness for play.'
[Illustration]
No. 86. THE 'WORLD.'--_Aug. 22, 1754._
[Illustration]
A correspondent, after summing up the lessons he daily extracts from
trees, flowers, insects, and the inmates of his garden, continues:--
'In short, there is such a close affinity between a proper cultivation
of a flower-garden and a right discipline of the mind that it is
almost impossible for any thoughtful person, that has made any
proficiency in the one, to avoid paying a due attention to the other.
That industry and care which are so requisite to cleanse a garden from
all sorts of weeds will naturally suggest to him how much more
expedient it would be to exert the same diligence in eradicating all
sorts of prejudices, follies, and vices from the mind, where they will
be sure to prevail, without a great deal of care and correction, as
common weeds in a neglected piece of ground.
'And as it requires more pains to extirpate some weeds than others,
according as they are more firmly fixed, more numerous, or more
naturalised to the soil; so those faults will be found to be most
difficult to be suppressed which have been of the largest growth and
taken the deepest root, which are more predominant in number and most
congenial to the constitution.'
No. 92. THE 'WORLD.'--_Oct. 3, 1754._
Mr. FitzAdam, defining the characters of _Siphons_ and _Soakers_,
points to a theory that dropsy, of which so many of their order
perish, is a manifest judgment upon them, the wine they so much loved
being turned into water, and themselves drowned at last in the element
they so much abhorred.
[Illustration]
'A rational and sober man, invited by the wit and gaiety of good
company, and hurried away by an uncommon flow of spirits, may happen
to drink too much, and perhaps accidentally to get drunk; but then
these sallies will be short and not frequent. Whereas the soaker is an
utter stranger to wit and mirth, and no friend to either. His business
is serious, and he applies himself seriously to it; he steadily
pursues the numbing, stupefying, and petrifying, not the animating and
exhilarating qualities of the wine. The more he drinks, the duller he
grows; his politics become more obscure, and his narratives more
tedious and less intelligible; till, at last _maudlin_, he employs
what little articulation he has left in relating his doleful state to
an insensible audience.
'I am well aware that the numerous society of _siphons_ (as I shall
for the future typify the soakers, suction being equally the only
business of both) will say, like Sir Tunbelly, "What would this fellow
have us do?" To which I am at no loss for an answer: "Do anything
else."'
No. 100. THE 'WORLD.'--_Nov. 28, 1754._
'I heard the other day with great pleasure from my friend, Mr.
Dodsley, that Mr. Johnson's "English Dictionary," with a grammar and
history of our language, will be published this winter, in two large
volumes in folio.
'Many people have imagined that so extensive a work would have been
best performed by a number of persons, who should have taken their
several departments of examining, fitting, winnowing, purifying, and
finally fixing our language by incorporating their respective funds
into one joint stock.
'But, whether this opinion be true or false, I think the public in
general, and the republic of letters in particular, are greatly
obliged to Mr. Johnson for having undertaken and executed so great and
desirable a work. Perfection is not to be expected from man; but if we
are to judge by the various works of Mr. Johnson already published, we
have good reason to believe that he will bring this as near to
perfection as any one man could do. The plan of it, which we published
some years ago, seems to me to be a proof of it. Nothing can be more
rationally imagined or more accurately and elegantly expressed. I
therefore recommend the previous perusal of it to all those who intend
to buy the dictionary, and who, I suppose, are all those who can
afford it.'
[Illustration]
No. 103. THE 'WORLD.'--_Dec. 19, 1754._
Mr. FitzAdam relates an anecdote establishing the good breeding of
highwaymen of the upper class:--
'An acquaintance of mine was robbed a few years ago, and very near
shot through the head by the going off of a pistol of the accomplished
Mr. M'Lean, yet the whole affair was conducted with the greatest good
breeding on both sides. The robber, who had only taken a purse _this
way_ because he had that morning been disappointed of marrying a great
fortune, no sooner returned to his lodgings than he sent the gentleman
two letters of excuses, which, with less wit than the epistles of
Voltaire, had infinitely more natural and easy politeness in the turn
of their expressions. In the postscript he appointed a meeting at
Tyburn, at twelve at night, where the gentleman might _purchase again_
any trifles he had lost; and my friend has been blamed for not
accepting the rendezvous, as it seemed liable to be construed by
ill-natured people into a doubt of the _honour_ of a man who had given
him all the satisfaction in his power for having unluckily been near
shooting him through the head.'
[Illustration]
No. 112. THE 'WORLD.'--_Feb. 20, 1755._
'My cobbler is also a politician. He reads the first newspapers he can
get, desirous to be informed of the state of affairs in Europe, and of
the street robberies of London. He has not, I presume, analysed the
interests of the respective countries of Europe, nor deeply considered
those of his own; still less is he systematically informed of the
political duties of a citizen and subject. But his heart and his
habits supply these defects. He glows with zeal for the honour and
prosperity of old England; he will fight for it if there be an
occasion, and drink to it perhaps a little too often and too much.
However, is it not to be wished that there were in this country six
millions of such honest and zealous, though uninformed, citizens?
'Our honest cobbler is thoroughly convinced, as his forefathers were
for many centuries, that one Englishman can beat three Frenchmen; and
in that persuasion he would by no means decline the trial. Now,
though in my own private opinion, deduced from physical principles, I
am apt to believe that one Englishman could beat no more than two
Frenchmen of equal size with himself, I should, however, be unwilling
to undeceive him of that useful and sanguine error, which certainly
made his countrymen triumph in the fields of Poictiers and Crecy.'
No. 122. THE 'WORLD.'--_May 1, 1755._
[Illustration]
'As I was musing one morning, in a most disconsolate mood, with my leg
in my landlady's lap, while she darned one of my stockings, it came
into my head to collect from various books, together with my own
experience and observations, plain and wholesome rules on the subject
of _diet_, and then publish them in a neat pocket volume; for I was
always well inclined to do good to the world, however ungratefully it
used me. I doubt, Mr. FitzAdam, you will hardly forbear smiling to
hear a man who was almost starved talk gravely of compiling
observations on diet. The moment I finished my volume I ran to an
eminent bookseller near the Mansion House; he was just set down to
dinner.... As soon as the cloth was taken away I produced my
manuscript, and the bookseller put on his spectacles; but to my no
small mortification, after glancing an eye over the title-page, he
looked steadfastly upon me for near a minute in a kind of amazement I
could not account for, and then broke out in the following
manner:--"My dear sir, you are come to the very worst place in the
world for the sale of such a _performance_ as this--to think of
expecting the Court of Aldermen's permission to preach upon the
subject of _lean and fallow abstinence_ between the Royal Exchange and
Temple Bar!"'
No. 130. THE 'WORLD.'--_June 26, 1755._
Extracts from a letter written by 'Priscilla Cross-stitch,' for
herself and sisters, on the subject of the indelicacy of nankin
breeches, as indulged in by Patrick, their footman:--
[Illustration]
'We give him no livery, but allow him a handsome sum yearly for
clothes; and, to _say the truth_, till within the last week he has
dressed with great propriety and decency, when all at once, to our
great confusion and distress, he has the assurance to appear at the
sideboard in a pair of filthy nankin breeches, and those made to fit
so extremely tight, that a less curious observer might have mistaken
them for no breeches at all. The shame and confusion so visible in all
our faces one would think would suggest to him the odiousness of his
dress; but the fellow appears to have thrown off every appearance of
decency, for at tea-table before company, as well as at meals, we are
forced to endure him in this abominable nankin, our modesty
conflicting with nature, to efface the idea it conveys.'
The ladies cannot well discharge a good servant for this indiscretion;
their delicacy will not allow them to mention the dreadful word, nor
venture on allusions to the objectionable part of the apparel; nor
will they venture to entrust the task to their maids, as it might draw
them into puzzling explanations. The publication of Priscilla's
letter, with a warning to Patrick, and a general decree against
suggestive drapery, declaring it a capital offence, is intended to
relieve the ladies of their confusion.
No. 135. THE 'WORLD.'--_July 31, 1755._
'Hilarius is a downright country gentleman; a _bon vivant_; an
indefatigable sportsman. He can drink his gallon at a sitting, and
will tell you he was neither sick nor sorry in his life. Having an
estate of above five thousand a year, his strong beer, ale, and wine
cellar are always well stored; to either of which, as also to his
table, abounding in plenty of good victuals, ill-sorted and
ill-dressed, every voter and fox-hunter claims a kind of right. He
roars for the Church, which he never visits, and is eternally cracking
his coarse jests and talking obscenity to the parsons, whom if he can
make fuddled, and expose to contempt, it is the highest pleasure he
can enjoy. As for his lay friends, nothing is more common with him
than to set them and their servants dead drunk on their horses; and
should any of them be found half smothered in a ditch the next
morning, it affords him excellent diversion for a twelvemonth after.
No one is readier to club a laugh with you, but he has no ear to the
voice of distress or complaint. Thus Hilarius, on the false credit of
generosity and good humour, swims triumphantly with the stream of
applause without one single virtue in his composition.'
[Illustration]
No. 142. THE 'WORLD.'--_Sept. 18, 1755._
Extract from the letter of a lady, a lover of peace and quietness, on
the sufferings produced by her connection with people who are fond of
noise. After describing the violence practised in her own home, the
writer continues:--
'At last I was sent to board with a distant relation, who had been
captain of a man-of-war, who had given up his commission and retired
into the country. Unfortunately for poor me, the captain still
retained a passion for firing a great gun, and had mounted, on a
little fortification that was thrown up against the front of his
house, eleven nine-pounders, which were constantly discharged ten or
a dozen times over on the arrival of visitors, and on all holidays and
rejoicings. The noise of these cannon was more terrible to me than all
the rest, and would have rendered my continuance there intolerable, if
a young gentleman, a relation of the captain's, had not held me by the
heart-strings, and softened by the most tender courtship in the world
the horrors of these firings.'
[Illustration]
The unfortunate lady's married life was doomed, however, to prove a
union of noise and contention.
No. 150. THE 'WORLD.'--_Nov. 13, 1755._
'Among the ancient Romans the great offices of state were all
elective, which obliged them to be very observant of the shape of the
noses of those persons to whom they were to apply for votes. Horace
tells us that a sharp nose was an indication of satirical wit and
humour; for when speaking of his friend Virgil, though he says, "At
est bonus, ut melior non alius quisquam," yet he allows he was no
joker, and not a fit match at the sneer for those of his companions
who had sharper noses than his own. They also looked upon the short
noses, with a little inflection at the end tending upwards, as a mark
of the owner's being addicted to jibing; for the same author, talking
of Mæcenas, says that though he was born of an ancient family, yet was
he not apt to turn persons of low birth into ridicule, which he
expresses by saying that "he had not a turn-up nose." Martial, in one
of his epigrams, calls this kind of nose the rhinocerotic nose, and
says that everyone in his time affected this kind of snout, as an
indication of his being _master of the talent of humour_.'
[Illustration]
No. --. THE 'WORLD.'--1755.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
'You may have frequently observed upon the face of that useful piece
of machinery, a clock, the minute and hour hands, in their revolution
through the twelve divisions of the day, to be not only shifting
continually from one figure to another, but to stand at times in a
quite opposite direction to their former bearings, and to each other.
Now I conceive this to be pretty much the case with that complicated
piece of mechanism, a modern female, or young woman of fashion: for as
such I was accustomed to consider that part of the species as having
no power to determine their own motions and appearances, but acted
upon by the mode, and set to any point which the party who took the
lead, or (to speak more properly) its regulator, pleased. But it has
so happened in the circumrotation of modes and fashions, that the
present set are not only moving on continually from one pretty fancy
and conceit to another, but have departed quite aside from their
former principles, dividing from each other in a circumstance wherein
they were always accustomed to unite, and uniting where there was ever
wont to be a distinction or difference.... The pride now is to get as
far away as possible, not only from the vulgar, but from one another,
and that, too, as well in the first principles of dress as in its
subordinate decorations; so that its fluctuating humour is perpetually
showing itself in some new and particular sort of cap, flounce, knot,
or tippet; and every woman that you meet affects independency and to
set up for herself.'
[Illustration]
No. 153. THE 'WORLD.'--_Dec. 4, 1755._
The writer describes a country assembly, highly perfumed with 'the
smell of the stable over which it was built, the savour of the
neighbouring kitchen, the fumes of tallow candles, rum punch, and
tobacco dispersed over the house, and the balsamic effluvia from many
sweet creatures who were dancing.' Everyone 'is pleased and desirous
of pleasing,' with the exception of some fashionable young men
blocking up the door--'whose faces I remember to have seen about town,
who would neither dance, drink tea, play at cards, nor speak to
anyone, except now and then in whispers to a young lady, who sat in
silence at the upper end of the room, in a hat and négligée, with her
back against the wall, her arms akimbo, her legs thrust out, a sneer
on her lips, a scowl on her forehead, and an invincible assurance in
her eyes. Their behaviour affronted most of the company, yet obtained
the desired effect: for I overheard several of the country ladies say,
"It was a pity they were so proud; for to be sure they were prodigious
well-bred people, and had an immense deal of wit;" a mistake they
could never have fallen into had these patterns of politeness
condescended to have entered into any conversation.'
[Illustration]
No. 163. THE 'WORLD.'--_Feb. 12, 1756._
'There was an ancient sect of philosophers, the disciples of
Pythagoras, who held that the souls of men and all other animals
existed in a state of perpetual transmigration, and that when by death
they were dislodged from one corporeal habitation, they were
immediately reinstated in another, happier or more miserable according
to their behaviour in the former. This doctrine has always appeared to
me to present a theory of retributory compensation which is very
acceptable.
'Thus the tyrant, who by his power has oppressed his country in the
situation of a prince, in that of a slave may be compelled to do it
some service by his labour. The highwayman, who has stopped and
plundered travellers, may expiate and assist them in the shape of a
post-horse; and mighty conquerors, who have laid waste the world by
their swords, may be obliged, by a small alteration in sex and
situation, to contribute to its re-peopling.
'For my own part, I verily believe this to be the case. I make no
doubt but Louis XIV. is now chained to an oar in the galleys of
France, and that Hernando Cortez is digging gold in the mines of Peru
or Mexico; that Dick Turpin, the highwayman, is several times a day
spurred backwards and forwards between London and Epping, and that
Lord * * * * and Sir Harry * * * * are now roasting for a city feast.
I question not but that Alexander the Great and Julius Cæsar have died
many times in child-bed since their appearance in those illustrious
and depopulating characters; that Charles XII. is at this instant a
curate's wife in some remote village with a numerous and increasing
family; and that Kouli-Khan is now whipped from parish to parish in
the person of a big-bellied beggar-woman, with two children in her
arms and three at her back.'
[Illustration]
No. 164. THE 'WORLD.'--_Feb. 19, 1756._
'Mr. FitzAdam,--I am infested by a swarm of country cousins that are
come up to town for the winter, as they call it--a whole family of
them. They ferret me out from every place I go to, and it is
impossible to stand the ridicule of being seen in their company.
'At their first coming to town I was, in a manner, obliged to gallant
them to the play, where, having seated the mother with much ado, I
offered my hand to the eldest of my five young cousins; but as she was
not dexterous enough to manage a great hoop with one hand only, she
refused my offer, and at the first step fell along. It was with great
difficulty I got her up again; but imagine, sir, my situation. I sat
like a mope all the night, not daring to look up for fear of catching
the eyes of my acquaintance, who would have laughed me out of
countenance.
[Illustration]
'My friends see how I am mortified at all public places; and it is a
standing jest with them, wherever they meet me, to put on the
appearance of the profoundest respect, and to ask, "Pray, sir, how do
your cousins do?" This leads me to propose something for the relief of
all those whose country cousins, like mine, expect they should
introduce them into the world; by which means we shall avoid appearing
in a very ridiculous light. I would therefore set up a person who
should be known by the name of Town Usher. His business should be to
attend closely all young ladies who were never in town before, to
teach them to walk into playhouses without falling over the benches,
to show them the tombs and the lions, and the wax-work and the giant,
and instruct them how to wonder and shut their mouths at the same
time, for I really meet with so many gapers every day in the streets
that I am continually yawning all the way I walk.'
No. 169. THE 'WORLD.'--_March 25, 1756._
'"Wanted a Curate at Beccles, in Suffolk. Inquire farther of Mr.
Strut, Cambridge and Yarmouth carrier, who inns at the Crown, the end
of Jesus Lane, Cambridge.
'"N.B.--To be spoken with from Friday noon to Saturday morning, nine
o'clock."
'I have transcribed this from a newspaper, Mr. FitzAdam, _verbatim et
literatim_, and must confess I look upon it as a curiosity. It would
certainly be entertaining to hear the conversation between Mr. Strut,
Cambridge and Yarmouth carrier, and the curate who offers himself.
Doubtless Mr. Strut has his orders to inquire into the young
candidate's qualifications, and to make his report to the advertising
rector before he agrees upon terms with him. But what principally
deserves our observation is the propriety of referring us to a person
who traffics constantly to that great mart of young divines,
Cambridge, where the advertiser might expect numbers to flock to the
person he employed. It is pleasant, too, to observe the "N.B." at the
end of the advertisement; it carries with it an air of significance
enough to intimidate a young divine who might possibly have been so
bold as to have put himself on an equal footing with this negotiator,
if he had not known that he was only to be spoken with at stated
hours.'
[Illustration]
No. 176. THE 'WORLD.'--_May 13, 1756._
[Illustration]
'Going to visit an old friend at his country seat last week, I found
him at backgammon with the vicar of the parish. My friend received me
with the heartiest welcome, and introduced the doctor to my
acquaintance. This gentleman, who seemed to be about fifty, and of a
florid and healthy constitution, surveyed me all over with great
attention, and, after a slight nod of the head, sat himself down
without opening his mouth. I was a little hurt at the supercilious
behaviour of this divine, which my friend observing, told me very
pleasantly that I was rather too old to be entitled to the doctor's
complaisance, for he seldom bestowed it but upon the young and
vigorous; "but," says he, "you will know him better soon, and may
probably think it worth your while to _book_ him in the 'World,' for
you will find him altogether as odd a character as he is a worthy
one." The doctor made no reply to this raillery, but continued some
time with his eye fixed upon me, and at last shaking his head, and
turning to my friend, asked if he would play out the other hit. My
friend excused himself from engaging any more that evening, and
ordered a bottle of wine, with pipes and tobacco, to be set on the
table. The vicar filled his pipe, and drank very cordially to my
friend, still eyeing me with a seeming dislike, and neither drinking
my health nor speaking a single word to me. As I had long accustomed
myself to drink nothing but water, I called for a bottle of it, and
drank glass for glass with him; which upon the doctor's observing, he
shook his head at my friend, and in a whisper, loud enough for me to
hear, said, "Poor man! it is all over with him, I see." My friend
smiled, and answered, in the same audible whisper, "No, no, doctor,
Mr. FitzAdam intends to live as long as either of us." He then
addressed himself to me on the occurrences of the town, and drew me
into a very cheerful conversation, which lasted till I withdrew to
rest; at which time the doctor rose from his chair, drank a bumper to
my health, and, giving me a hearty shake by the hand, told me I was a
very jolly old gentleman, and that he wished to be better acquainted
with me during my stay in the country.'
No. 185. THE 'WORLD.'--_July 15, 1756._
'_Mr. FitzAdam._
'Sir,--My case is a little singular, and therefore I hope you will let
it appear in your paper. I should scarcely have attempted to make such
a request, had I not very strictly looked over all the works of your
predecessors, the "Tatlers," "Spectators," and "Guardians," without a
possibility of finding a parallel to my unhappy situation.
[Illustration]
'I am not _henpecked_; I am not _grimalkined_; I have no Mrs. Freeman,
with her Italian airs; but I have a wife more troublesome than all
three by a certain ridiculous and unnecessary devotion that she pays
to her father, amounting almost to idolatry. When I first married her,
from that specious kind of weakness which meets with encouragement and
applause only because it is called good-nature, I permitted her to do
whatever she pleased; but when I thought it requisite to pull in the
rein, I found that her having the bit in her teeth rendered the
strength of my curb of no manner of use to me. Whenever I attempted to
draw her in a little, she tossed up her head, snorted, pranced, and
gave herself such airs, that unless I let her carry me where she
pleased, my limbs if not my life were in danger.'
No. 191. THE 'WORLD.'--_Aug. 26, 1756._
'Ever since the tax upon dogs was first reported to be in agitation, I
have been under the greatest alarm for the safety of the whole race.
[Illustration]
'I thought it a little hard, indeed, that a man should be taxed for
having one creature in his house in which he might confide; but when I
heard that officers were to be appointed to knock out the brains of
all these honest domestics who should presume to make their appearance
in the streets without the passport of their master's name about their
necks, I became seriously concerned for them.
'This enmity against dogs is pretended upon the apprehension of their
going mad; but an easier remedy might be applied, by abolishing the
custom (with many others equally ingenious) of stringing bottles and
stones to their tails, by which means (and in this one particular I
must give up my clients) the unfortunate sufferer becomes subject to
the persecutions of his own species, too apt to join the run against a
brother in distress.
'But great allowance should be made for an animal who, in an intimacy
of nearly six thousand years with man, has learnt but one of his bad
qualities.'
[Illustration]
No. 192. THE 'WORLD.'--_Sept. 2, 1756._
'Mr. FitzAdam,--Walking up St. James's Street the other day, I was
stopt by a very smart young female, who begged my pardon for her
boldness, and, looking very innocently in my face, asked me if I did
not know her. The manner of her accosting me and the extreme
prettiness of her figure made me look at her with attention; and I
soon recollected that she had been a servant-girl of my wife's, who
had taken her from the country, and, after keeping her three years in
her service, had dismissed her about two months ago. "What, Nanny,"
said I, "is it you? I never saw anybody so fine in all my life!" "Oh,
sir!" says she, with the most innocent smile imaginable, bridling her
head and curtsying down to the ground, "I have been led astray since I
lived with my mistress." "Have you so, Mrs. Nanny?" said I; "and pray,
child, who is it that has led you astray?" "Oh, sir!" says she, "one
of the worthiest gentlemen in the world; and he has bought me a new
négligée for every day in the week."
'The girl pressed me to go and look at her lodgings, which she assured
me were hard by in Bury Street, and as fine as a duchess's; but I
declined her offer, knowing that any arguments of mine in favour of
virtue and stuff gowns would avail but little against pleasure and
silk négligées. I therefore contented myself with expressing my
concern for the way of life she had entered into, and bade her
farewell.
'Being a man inclined to speculate a little, as often as I think of
the finery of this girl, and the reason alleged for it, I cannot help
fancying, whenever I fall in company with a pretty woman, dressed out
beyond her visible circumstances, patched, painted, and ornamented to
the extent of the mode, that she is going to make me her best curtsy,
and to tell me, "Oh, sir! I have been led astray since I kept good
company."'
No. 202. THE 'WORLD.'--_Nov. 11, 1756._
[Illustration]
'The trumpet sounds; to war the troops advance,
Adorn'd and trim, like females to the dance
Proud of the summons, to display his might,
The gay Lothario dresses for the fight;
Studious in all the splendour to appear,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
His well-turn'd limbs the diff'rent garbs infold,
Form'd with nice art, and glitt'ring all with gold;
Across his breast the silken sash is tied,
Behind the shoulder-knot displays its pride;
Glitt'ring with lace, the hat adorns his head,
Grac'd and distinguish'd by the smart cockade:
Conspicuous badge! which only heroes wear,
Ensign of war and fav'rite of the fair.
The graceful queue his braided tresses binds,
And ev'ry hair in its just rank confines.
Each taper leg the snowy gaiters deck,
And the bright gorget dandles from his neck.
Dress'd cap-a-pie, all lovely to the sight,
Stands the gay warrior, and expects the fight.
Rages the war; fell slaughter stalks around,
And stretches thousands breathless on the ground.
Down sinks Lothario, sent by one dire blow,
A well-dress'd hero, to the shades below.
Thus the young victim, pamper'd and elate,
To some resplendent fane is led in state,
With garlands crown'd through shouting crowds proceeds,
And, dress'd in fatal pomp, magnificently bleeds.'
No. 209. THE 'WORLD.'--_Dec. 30, 1756._
'_The Last of Mr. FitzAdam._
'Before these lines can reach the press, that truly great and amiable
gentleman, Mr. FitzAdam, will, in all probability, be no more. An
event so sudden and unexpected, and in which the public are so deeply
interested, cannot fail to excite the curiosity of every reader. I
shall, therefore, relate it in the most concise manner I am able.
'The reader may remember that in the first number of the "World," and
in several succeeding papers, the good old gentleman flattered himself
that the profits of his labours would some time or other enable him to
make a genteel figure in the world, and seat himself at last in his
_one-horse chair_. The death of Mrs. FitzAdam, which happened a few
months since, as it relieved him from the great expense of
housekeeping, made him in a hurry to set up his equipage; and as the
sale of his paper was even beyond his expectations, I was one of the
first of his friends that advised him to purchase it. The equipage was
accordingly bespoke and sent home; and as he had all along promised
that his first visit in it should be to me, I expected him last
Tuesday at my country-house at Hoxton. The poor gentleman was punctual
to his appointment; and it was with great delight that I saw him from
my window driving up the road that leads to my house. Unfortunately
for him, his eye caught mine; and hoping (as I suppose) to captivate
me by his great skill in driving, he made two or three flourishes with
his whip, which so frightened the horse that he ran furiously away
with the carriage, dashed it against a post, and threw the driver from
his seat with a violence hardly to be conceived. I screamed out to my
maid, "Lord bless me!" says I, "Mr. FitzAdam is killed!" and away we
ran to the spot where he lay. At first I imagined that his head was
off, but upon drawing nearer I found it was his hat! He breathed,
indeed, which gave me hopes that he was not quite dead; but for signs
of life, he had positively none.
[Illustration]
'In this condition, with the help of some neighbours, we brought him
into the house, where a warm bed was quickly got ready for him; which,
together with bleeding and other helps, brought him by degrees to life
and reason. He looked round about him for some time, and at last,
seeing and knowing me, inquired after his chaise. I told him it was
safe, though a good deal damaged. "No matter, madam," he replied; "it
has done my business; it has carried me a journey from this world to
the next. I shall have no use for it again. The 'World' is now at an
end! I thought it destined to last a longer period; but the decrees of
fate are not to be resisted. It would have pleased me to have written
the last paper myself, but that task, madam, must be yours; and,
however painful it may be to your modesty, I conjure you to undertake
it.... My epitaph, if the public might be so satisfied, I would have
decent and concise. It would offend my modesty if, after the name of
FITZADAM, more were to be added than these words:--
'"_He was the deepest_ PHILOSOPHER,
_The wittiest_ WRITER,
AND
_The greatest_ MAN
OF THIS AGE OR NATION."'
FOOTNOTES:
[25] Author of 'Fables for the Female Sex;' he probably approached the
nearest of all Gay's imitators to the excellences of that poet. Moore
also wrote successfully for the stage. He was the author of the
comedies of the 'Foundling' and 'Gil Blas,' and of the famous tragedy
of the 'Gamester.'
[26] Alluding to the country custom of gathering May-dew.
[27] The plate garlands of London.