From my own Apartment, October 19.
It is my frequent practice to visit places of resort in this town where
I am least known, to observe what reception my works meet with in the
world, and what good effects I may promise myself from my labours, and
it being a privilege asserted by Monsieur Montaigne, and others, of
vain-glorious memory, that we writers of essays may talk of ourselves, I
take the liberty to give an account of the remarks which I find are made
by some of my gentle readers upon these my dissertations.
I happened this evening to fall into a coffee-house near the 'Change,
where two persons were reading my account of the "Table of Fame."
The one of these was commenting as he read, and explaining who was meant
by this and the other worthy as he passed on. I observed the person over
against him wonderfully intent and satisfied with his explanation. When
he came to Julius Caesar, who is said to have refused any conductor to
the table: "No, no," said he, "he is in the right of it, he has money
enough to be welcome wherever he comes;" and then whispered, "He means a
certain colonel of the Trainbands." Upon reading that Aristotle made his
claim with some rudeness, but great strength of reason; "Who can that
be, so rough and so reasonable? It must be some Whig, I warrant you.
There is nothing but party in these public papers." Where Pythagoras is
said to have a golden thigh, "Ay, ay," said he, "he has money enough in
his breeches; that is the alderman of our ward." You must know,
whatever he read, I found he interpreted from his own way of life and
acquaintance. I am glad my readers can construe for themselves these
difficult points; but, for the benefit of posterity, I design, when I
come to write my last paper of this kind, to make it an explanation of
all my former. In that piece you shall have all I have commended with
their proper names. The faulty characters must be left as they are,
because we live in an age wherein vice is very general, and virtue very
particular; for which reason the latter only wants explanation.
But I must turn my present discourse to what is of yet greater regard to
me than the care of my writings; that is to say, the preservation of
a lady's heart. Little did I think I should ever have business of this
kind on my hands more; but, as little as any one who knows me would
believe it, there is a lady at this time who professes love to me. Her
passion and good humour you shall have in her own words.
"MR. BICKERSTAFF,
"I had formerly a very good opinion of myself; but it is now withdrawn,
and I have placed it upon you, Mr. Bickerstaff, for whom I am not
ashamed to declare I have a very great passion and tenderness. It is not
for your face, for that I never saw; your shape and height I am equally
a stranger to; but your understanding charms me, and I am lost if you do
not dissemble a little love for me. I am not without hopes; because I am
not like the tawdry gay things that are fit only to make bone-lace. I
am neither childish-young, nor beldame-old, but, the world says, a good
agreeable woman.
"Speak peace to a troubled heart, troubled only for you; and in your
next paper, let me find your thoughts of me.
"Do not think of finding out who I am, for, notwithstanding your
interest in demons, they cannot help you either to my name, or a sight
of my face; therefore, do not let them deceive you.
"I can bear no discourse, if you are not the subject; and believe me, I
know more of love than you do of astronomy.
"Pray, say some civil things in return to my generosity, and you shall
have my very best pen employed to thank you, and I will confirm it.
"I am your admirer,
"MARIA."
There is something wonderfully pleasing in the favour of women; and this
letter has put me in so good a humour, that nothing could displease me
since I received it. My boy breaks glasses and pipes, and instead of
giving him a knock on the pate, as my way is, for I hate scolding at
servants, I only say, "Ah, Jack! thou hast a head, and so has a pin,"
or some such merry expression. But, alas! how am I mortified when he is
putting on my fourth pair of stockings on these poor spindles of mine!
"The fair one understands love better than I astronomy!" I am sure,
without the help of that art, this poor meagre trunk of mine is a very
ill habitation for love. She is pleased to speak civilly of my sense,
but Ingenium male habitat is an invincible difficulty in cases of this
nature. I had always, indeed, from a passion to please the eyes of the
fair, a great pleasure in dress. Add to this, that I have writ songs
since I was sixty, and have lived with all the circumspection of an old
beau as I am. But my friend Horace has very well said: "Every year takes
something from us;" and instructed me to form my pursuits and desires
according to the stage of my life; therefore, I have no more to value
myself upon, than that, I can converse with young people without
peevishness, or wishing myself a moment younger. For which reason, when
I am amongst them, I rather moderate than interrupt their diversions.
But though I have this complacency, I must not pretend to write to a
lady civil things, as Maria desires. Time was, when I could have told
her, "I had received a letter from her fair hands; and that, if this
paper trembled as she read it, it then best expressed its author," or
some other gay conceit. Though I never saw her, I could have told her,
"that good sense and good-humour smiled in her eyes; that constancy and
good-nature dwelt in her heart; that beauty and good-breeding appeared
in all her actions." When I was five-and-twenty, upon sight of one
syllable, even wrong spelt, by a lady I never saw, I could tell her,
"that her height was that which was fit for inviting our approach, and
commanding our respect; that a smile sat on her lips, which prefaced
her expressions before she uttered them, and her aspect prevented her
speech. All she could say, though she had an infinite deal of wit, was
but a repetition of what was expressed by her form; her form! which
struck her beholders with ideas more moving and forcible than ever were
inspired by music, painting, or eloquence." At this rate I panted in
those days; but ah! sixty-three! I am very sorry I can only return the
agreeable Maria a passion expressed rather from the head than the heart.
"DEAR MADAM,
"You have already seen the best of me, and I so passionately love you
that I desire we may never meet. If you will examine your heart, you
will find that you join the man with the philosopher; and if you have
that kind opinion of my sense as you pretend, I question not but you add
to it complexion, air, and shape; but, dear Molly, a man in his grand
climacteric is of no sex. Be a good girl, and conduct yourself with
honour and virtue, when you love one younger than myself. I am, with the
greatest tenderness, your innocent lover,
"I. B."