[363]Nichols argued that this and the two following numbers were by Addison. (1) At the end ofNo. 37there is a list of errata for the preceding number. It was Addison's frequent practice to make verbal alterations in a preceding paper, and this Steele never did, except in rare cases, or where there was a positive mistake. (2) All the three papers aresuperscribed, as Addison's often were, and appear upon the face of them, to be of the nature, and in the number of those, for which Steele stood sponsor, and was very patiently traduced and calumniated, as he acknowledges to Congreve, in the Dedication prefixed to "The Drummer." There is nothing in the style or manner of any of the three that appears incongruous with such a supposition; and the nature of their principal contents seems to support it. They consist chiefly of pleasantries and oblique strokes, apparently on persons of fashion, in that age, of both sexes. It appears from the Dedication to "The Drummer," that Steele had Addison's direct injunctions to hide papers which he never did declare to be Addison's. The case, in short, seems to be, that as, as Steele says, there are communications in the course of this work, which Addison's modesty, so there are likewise others, which Addison's prudence, "would never have admitted to come into daylight, but under such a shelter." According to the usual rule where there is uncertainty, Steele's name is placed at the head of the papers in this edition. Probably he was responsible in any case for part of the contents of each of these numbers.[364]Epsom was frequented for its mineral waters, and was also a favourite holiday resort. "At the Crown Coffee-house, behind the Royal Exchange, fresh Epsom water, with the rest of the purging waters, at 2d. per quart, and sold both winter and summer, and Epsom salt." (See "British Apollo," vol. iii.No. 15, 1710, and "Post Man," June 11, 1700.) "The New Wells at Epsom, with variety of raffling-shops, a billiard-table, and a bowling-green, and attended with a new set of music, are now open," &c. (Flying Post, Aug. 4-6, 1709.) The new Wells were opened on Easter Monday, 1709 (Daily Courant, April 23, 1709). We can form some idea of Epsom some years before, with its wells and bowling-green, from Shadwell's play, "Epsom Wells," 1673. See alsoNo. 7.[365]On July 8, 1709, Peter Wentworth wrote to Lord Raby: "I have not sent you theTatlerof last Saturday, because I was told 'twas dull, but that persons judgement I shall take no more; for having since read it I think it diverting enough, the news from Epsom is almost matter of fact, wch makes the jest the better; the Ladys are city ladys, named Turners" ("Wentworth Papers," p. 93). This is confirmed by the MS. annotator mentioned inNo. 4.[366]"I like the description of Africanus, wch is Sir Scipio Hill ... Sir Scipio Hill with his new project of getting money occasions some diversion and talk at White's. You may have heard for this long while he was dieing of the ——; he now come abroad and look a divel, or at least a sadmemento mori. He gives forescore guineas to receive ten guineas a quarter for his life, Sir James of the Peak is his agent, and runs about offering it all that will take. Boscowen has took it, and two or three more, who are of opinion he will not live a month. Those he had made his heirs does not approve of this whim, for he's resolved to dispose of all his ready money this way if he can find substantial fools enough to take it; but the crack begins to run as if he may live a great while for all he looks so ill, for he has recovered his voice to a miracle" (Peter Wentworth to Lord Raby, July 1 and 8, 1709; "Wentworth Papers," pp. 92-3).[367]The waiter. SeeNo. 16.[368]Said to be Sir Humphrey Monoux, Bart., who was elected M.P. for Tavistock in 1728, and for Stockbridge in 1734. He succeeded to the baronetage in 1707, and died without issue in 1757.[369]"Thou that hast no sense of death, art happier than one that" (folio; altered in Errata inNo. 37).[370]"This paper, with a blank leaf to write business on, may be had of J. Morphew, near Stationers'-hall" (folio).
[363]Nichols argued that this and the two following numbers were by Addison. (1) At the end ofNo. 37there is a list of errata for the preceding number. It was Addison's frequent practice to make verbal alterations in a preceding paper, and this Steele never did, except in rare cases, or where there was a positive mistake. (2) All the three papers aresuperscribed, as Addison's often were, and appear upon the face of them, to be of the nature, and in the number of those, for which Steele stood sponsor, and was very patiently traduced and calumniated, as he acknowledges to Congreve, in the Dedication prefixed to "The Drummer." There is nothing in the style or manner of any of the three that appears incongruous with such a supposition; and the nature of their principal contents seems to support it. They consist chiefly of pleasantries and oblique strokes, apparently on persons of fashion, in that age, of both sexes. It appears from the Dedication to "The Drummer," that Steele had Addison's direct injunctions to hide papers which he never did declare to be Addison's. The case, in short, seems to be, that as, as Steele says, there are communications in the course of this work, which Addison's modesty, so there are likewise others, which Addison's prudence, "would never have admitted to come into daylight, but under such a shelter." According to the usual rule where there is uncertainty, Steele's name is placed at the head of the papers in this edition. Probably he was responsible in any case for part of the contents of each of these numbers.
[363]
Nichols argued that this and the two following numbers were by Addison. (1) At the end ofNo. 37there is a list of errata for the preceding number. It was Addison's frequent practice to make verbal alterations in a preceding paper, and this Steele never did, except in rare cases, or where there was a positive mistake. (2) All the three papers aresuperscribed, as Addison's often were, and appear upon the face of them, to be of the nature, and in the number of those, for which Steele stood sponsor, and was very patiently traduced and calumniated, as he acknowledges to Congreve, in the Dedication prefixed to "The Drummer." There is nothing in the style or manner of any of the three that appears incongruous with such a supposition; and the nature of their principal contents seems to support it. They consist chiefly of pleasantries and oblique strokes, apparently on persons of fashion, in that age, of both sexes. It appears from the Dedication to "The Drummer," that Steele had Addison's direct injunctions to hide papers which he never did declare to be Addison's. The case, in short, seems to be, that as, as Steele says, there are communications in the course of this work, which Addison's modesty, so there are likewise others, which Addison's prudence, "would never have admitted to come into daylight, but under such a shelter." According to the usual rule where there is uncertainty, Steele's name is placed at the head of the papers in this edition. Probably he was responsible in any case for part of the contents of each of these numbers.
[364]Epsom was frequented for its mineral waters, and was also a favourite holiday resort. "At the Crown Coffee-house, behind the Royal Exchange, fresh Epsom water, with the rest of the purging waters, at 2d. per quart, and sold both winter and summer, and Epsom salt." (See "British Apollo," vol. iii.No. 15, 1710, and "Post Man," June 11, 1700.) "The New Wells at Epsom, with variety of raffling-shops, a billiard-table, and a bowling-green, and attended with a new set of music, are now open," &c. (Flying Post, Aug. 4-6, 1709.) The new Wells were opened on Easter Monday, 1709 (Daily Courant, April 23, 1709). We can form some idea of Epsom some years before, with its wells and bowling-green, from Shadwell's play, "Epsom Wells," 1673. See alsoNo. 7.
[364]
Epsom was frequented for its mineral waters, and was also a favourite holiday resort. "At the Crown Coffee-house, behind the Royal Exchange, fresh Epsom water, with the rest of the purging waters, at 2d. per quart, and sold both winter and summer, and Epsom salt." (See "British Apollo," vol. iii.No. 15, 1710, and "Post Man," June 11, 1700.) "The New Wells at Epsom, with variety of raffling-shops, a billiard-table, and a bowling-green, and attended with a new set of music, are now open," &c. (Flying Post, Aug. 4-6, 1709.) The new Wells were opened on Easter Monday, 1709 (Daily Courant, April 23, 1709). We can form some idea of Epsom some years before, with its wells and bowling-green, from Shadwell's play, "Epsom Wells," 1673. See alsoNo. 7.
[365]On July 8, 1709, Peter Wentworth wrote to Lord Raby: "I have not sent you theTatlerof last Saturday, because I was told 'twas dull, but that persons judgement I shall take no more; for having since read it I think it diverting enough, the news from Epsom is almost matter of fact, wch makes the jest the better; the Ladys are city ladys, named Turners" ("Wentworth Papers," p. 93). This is confirmed by the MS. annotator mentioned inNo. 4.
[365]
On July 8, 1709, Peter Wentworth wrote to Lord Raby: "I have not sent you theTatlerof last Saturday, because I was told 'twas dull, but that persons judgement I shall take no more; for having since read it I think it diverting enough, the news from Epsom is almost matter of fact, wch makes the jest the better; the Ladys are city ladys, named Turners" ("Wentworth Papers," p. 93). This is confirmed by the MS. annotator mentioned inNo. 4.
[366]"I like the description of Africanus, wch is Sir Scipio Hill ... Sir Scipio Hill with his new project of getting money occasions some diversion and talk at White's. You may have heard for this long while he was dieing of the ——; he now come abroad and look a divel, or at least a sadmemento mori. He gives forescore guineas to receive ten guineas a quarter for his life, Sir James of the Peak is his agent, and runs about offering it all that will take. Boscowen has took it, and two or three more, who are of opinion he will not live a month. Those he had made his heirs does not approve of this whim, for he's resolved to dispose of all his ready money this way if he can find substantial fools enough to take it; but the crack begins to run as if he may live a great while for all he looks so ill, for he has recovered his voice to a miracle" (Peter Wentworth to Lord Raby, July 1 and 8, 1709; "Wentworth Papers," pp. 92-3).
[366]
"I like the description of Africanus, wch is Sir Scipio Hill ... Sir Scipio Hill with his new project of getting money occasions some diversion and talk at White's. You may have heard for this long while he was dieing of the ——; he now come abroad and look a divel, or at least a sadmemento mori. He gives forescore guineas to receive ten guineas a quarter for his life, Sir James of the Peak is his agent, and runs about offering it all that will take. Boscowen has took it, and two or three more, who are of opinion he will not live a month. Those he had made his heirs does not approve of this whim, for he's resolved to dispose of all his ready money this way if he can find substantial fools enough to take it; but the crack begins to run as if he may live a great while for all he looks so ill, for he has recovered his voice to a miracle" (Peter Wentworth to Lord Raby, July 1 and 8, 1709; "Wentworth Papers," pp. 92-3).
[367]The waiter. SeeNo. 16.
[367]
The waiter. SeeNo. 16.
[368]Said to be Sir Humphrey Monoux, Bart., who was elected M.P. for Tavistock in 1728, and for Stockbridge in 1734. He succeeded to the baronetage in 1707, and died without issue in 1757.
[368]
Said to be Sir Humphrey Monoux, Bart., who was elected M.P. for Tavistock in 1728, and for Stockbridge in 1734. He succeeded to the baronetage in 1707, and died without issue in 1757.
[369]"Thou that hast no sense of death, art happier than one that" (folio; altered in Errata inNo. 37).
[369]
"Thou that hast no sense of death, art happier than one that" (folio; altered in Errata inNo. 37).
[370]"This paper, with a blank leaf to write business on, may be had of J. Morphew, near Stationers'-hall" (folio).
[370]
"This paper, with a blank leaf to write business on, may be had of J. Morphew, near Stationers'-hall" (folio).
No. 37.[?STEELE.371FromSaturday, July 2, toTuesday, July 5, 1709.
It may be thought very unaccountable, that I,372who can never be supposed to go to White's, should pretend to talk to you of matters proper for, or in the style of, that place. But though I do not go to these public haunts, I receive visits from those who do; and for all they pretend so much to the contrary, they are as talkative as our sex, and as much at a loss to entertain the present company, without sacrificing the last, as we ourselves. This reflection has led me into the consideration of the use of speech; and made me look over in my memory all my acquaintance of both sexes, to know to which I may more justly impute the sin of superfluous discourse, with regard to conversation, and not entering into it as it respects religion. I foresee my acquaintance will immediately, upon starting this subject, ask me, how I shall celebrate Mrs. Alse Copswood,373the Yorkshire huntress, who is come to town lately, and moves as if she were on her nag, and going to take a five-bar gate; and is as loud as if she were following her dogs. I can easily answer that; for she is as soft as Damon, in comparison of her brother-in-law Tom Bellfrey,374who is the most accomplished man in this kingdom for all gentlemanlike activities and accomplishments. Itis allowed, that he is a professed enemy to the Italian performers in music. But then for our own native manner, according to the customs and known usages of our island, he is to be preferred, for the generality of the pleasure he bestows, much above those fellows,375though they sing to full theatres. For what is a theatrical voice to that of a fox-hunter? I have been at a musical entertainment in an open field, where it amazed me to hear to what pitches the chief masters would reach. There was a meeting near our seat in Staffordshire, and the most eminent of all the counties of England were at it. How wonderful was the harmony between men and dogs! Robin Cartail of Bucks was to answer to Jowler; Mr. Tinbreast of Cornwall was appointed to open with Sweetlips, and Beau Slimber, a Londoner, undertook to keep up with Trips, a whelp just set in: Tom Bellfrey and Ringwood were coupled together, to fill the cry on all occasions, and be in at the death of the fox, hare, or stag; for which both the dog and the man were excellently suited, and loved one another, and were as much together as Banister and King. When Jowler first alarmed the field, Cartail repeated every note; Sweetlips' treble succeeded, and shook the wood; Tinbreast echoed a quarter of a mile beyond it. We were soon after all at a loss, till we rid up, and found Trips and Slimber at a default in half-notes: but the day and the tune was recovered by Tom Bellfrey and Ringwood, to the great joy of us all, though they drowned every other voice: for Bellfrey carries a note four furlongs, three rood, and six paces, farther than any other in England. But I fear the mention of this will be thought a digression from my purpose about speech: but I answer, No. Since this is used where speech rather should be employed, it may come into consideration in the same chapter: for Mr. Bellfrey being at a visit where I was, viz., his cousin's (Lady Dainty's) in Soho, was asked, what entertainments they had in the country? Now Bellfrey is very ignorant, and much a clown; but confident withal. In a word, he struck up a fox-chase: Lady Dainty's dog, Mr. Sippet, as she calls him, started and jumped out of his lady's lap, and fell a barking. Bellfrey went on, and called all the neighbouring parishes into the square. Never was woman in such confusion as that delicate lady. But there was no stopping her kinsman. A room full of ladies fell into the most violent laughter: my lady looked as if she was shrieking; Mr. Sippet in the middle of the room, breaking his heart with barking, but all of us unheard. As soon as Bellfrey became silent, up gets my lady, and takes him by the arm to lead him off: Bellfrey was in his boots. As she was hurrying him away, his spurs takes hold of her petticoat; his whip throws down a cabinet of china: he cries, "What! are your crocks rotten? Are your petticoats ragged? A man can't walk in your house for trincums." Every county of Great Britain has one hundred or more of this sort of fellows, who roar instead of speaking. Therefore if it be true, that we women are also given to greater fluency of words than is necessary, sure one that disturbs but a room or a family is more to be tolerated, than one who draws together parishes and counties, and sometimes (with an estate that might make him the blessing and ornament of the world around him) has no other view and ambition, but to be an animal above dogs and horses, without the relish of any one enjoyment, which is peculiar to the faculties of human nature. But I know it will here be said, that talking of mere country squires at this rate, is, as it were, to write against Valentine or Orson. To prove anything against the race of men, you must take them asthey are adorned with education, as they live in Courts, or have received instructions in colleges.
But I was so full of my late entertainment by Mr. Bellfrey, that I must defer pursuing this subject to another day; and waive the proper observations upon the different offenders in this kind, some by profound eloquence, on small occasions, others by degrading speech upon great circumstances. Expect therefore to hear of the whisperer without business, the laugher without wit, the complainer without receiving injuries, and a very large crowd, which I shall not forestall, who are common (though not commonly observed) impertinents, whose tongues are too voluble for their brains, and are the general despisers of us women, though we have their superiors, the men of sense, for our servants.376
There has arrived no mail since our last; so that we have no manner of foreign news, except we were to give you, for such, the many speculations which are on foot concerning what was imported by the last advices. There are, it seems, sixty battalions and seventeen squadrons appointed to serve in the siege of Tournay; the garrison of which place consists but of eleven battalions and four squadrons. Letters of the 29th of the last month from Berlin have brought advice, that the Kings of Denmark, Prussia, and his Majesty Augustus, were within few daysto come to an interview at Potsdam. These letters mention, that two Polish princes of the family of the Sapicha and Lubermirsky, lately arrived from Paris, confirm the reports of the misery in France for want of provisions, and give a particular instance of it, which is, that on the day Monsieur Rouillé returned to Court, the common people gathered in crowds about the Dauphin's coach, crying, "Peace and bread, bread and peace."
Mrs. Distaff has taken upon her, while she writes this paper, to turn her thoughts wholly to the service of her own sex, and to propose remedies against the greatest vexationsattending female life. She has for this end written a small treatise concerning the second word, with an appendix on the use of a reply, very useful to all such as are married to persons either ill-bred or ill-natured. There is in this tract a digression for the use of virgins concerning the words, "I will."
A gentlewoman who has a very delicate ear, wants a maid who can whisper, and help her in the government of her family. If the said servant can clear-starch, lisp, and tread softly, she shall have suitable encouragement in her wages.
[371]See note toNo. 36.[372]Jenny Distaff.[373]The Jacobite Archbishop of York, Dr. John Sharpe, who died in 1713. SeeExaminer, vol. iv. No. 22.[374]Dr. Blackall (1654-1716), who was made Bishop of Exeter in 1708.[375]The French Prophets, from the Cevennes. Dr. Blackall's sermon against them was printed by order of the Queen.[376]The following article appeared only in the folio issue:—Will's Coffee-house, July 3.A very ingenious gentleman was complaining this evening, that the players are grown so severe critics, that they would not take in his play, though it has as many fine things in it as any play that has been writ since the days of Dryden. He began his discourse about his play with a preface."There is," said he, "somewhat (however we palliate it) in the very frame and make of us, that subjects our minds to chagrin and irresolution on any emergency of time or place. The difficulty grows on our sickened imagination, under all the killing circumstances of danger and disappointment. This we see, not only in the men of retirement and fancy, but in the characters of the men of action; with this only difference, the coward sees the danger, and sickens under it; the hero, warmed by the difficulty, dilates, and rises in proportion to that, and in some sort makes use of his very fears to disarm it. A remarkable instance of this we have in the great Cæsar, when he came to the Rubicon, and was entering upon a part, perhaps, the most hazardous he ever bore (certainly the most ungrateful), a war with his countrymen. When his mind brooded over personal affronts, perhaps his anger burned with a desire of revenge. But when more serious reflections laid before him the hazard of the enterprise, with the dismal consequences which were likely to attend it, aggravated by a special circumstance, What figure it would bear in the world, or how be excused to posterity. What shall he do?—His honour, which was his religion, bids him arm; and he sounds the inclinations of his party, by this set speech:CÆSARto his Party at the Rubicon.Great Jove, attend, and thou my native soil,Safe in my triumphs, glutted in my spoil;Witness with what reluctance I opposeMy arms to thine, secure of other foes.What passive breast can bear disgrace like mine?Traitor!—For this I conquered on the Rhine,Endured their ten years' drudgery in Gaul,Adjourned their fate, and saved the Capitol.I grew by every guilty triumph less;The crowd, when drunk with joy, their souls express,Impatient of the war, yet fear success.Brave actions dazzle with too bright a ray,Like birds obscene they chatter at the day;Giddy with rule, and valiant in debate,They throw the die of war, to save the state;And gods! to gild ingratitude with fame,Assume the patriot's, we the rebel's name.Farewell, my friends, your general forlorn,To your bare pity, and the public scorn,Must lay that honour and his laurel down,To serve the vain caprices of the gown;Exposed to all indignities, the braveDeserve of those they gloried but to save,To rods and axes!—No, the slaves can't darePlay with my grief, and tempt my last despair.This shall the honours which it won maintain,Or do me justice, ere I hug my chain."The reason for cancelling this article when these papers were republished in octavo, is obvious; for, being printed by Steele, it would naturally be applied to the circumstances in which the Duke of Marlborough was at that time: "The Duke having his commission under the Great Seal, the order of the Queen was not sufficient to dissolve his power. His friends advised him to assemble, by his authority as general, all the troops in London, in the different squares, and to take possession of St. James's, and the person of the Queen. Oxford, apprised of this design, suddenly called together the Cabinet Council. Though he probably concealed his intelligence to prevent their fears, he told them of the necessity of superseding Marlborough under the Great Seal. This business was soon despatched. His dismission in form was sent to the Duke. The Earl of Oxford, no stranger to the character of Marlborough, knew that he would not act against law, by assembling the troops. The natural diffidence of his disposition had made him unfit for enterprises of danger, in a degree that furnished his enemies with insinuations against his personal courage."—(Macpherson's "State Papers," quoted by Nichols.)
[371]See note toNo. 36.
[371]
See note toNo. 36.
[372]Jenny Distaff.
[372]
Jenny Distaff.
[373]The Jacobite Archbishop of York, Dr. John Sharpe, who died in 1713. SeeExaminer, vol. iv. No. 22.
[373]
The Jacobite Archbishop of York, Dr. John Sharpe, who died in 1713. SeeExaminer, vol. iv. No. 22.
[374]Dr. Blackall (1654-1716), who was made Bishop of Exeter in 1708.
[374]
Dr. Blackall (1654-1716), who was made Bishop of Exeter in 1708.
[375]The French Prophets, from the Cevennes. Dr. Blackall's sermon against them was printed by order of the Queen.
[375]
The French Prophets, from the Cevennes. Dr. Blackall's sermon against them was printed by order of the Queen.
[376]The following article appeared only in the folio issue:—Will's Coffee-house, July 3.A very ingenious gentleman was complaining this evening, that the players are grown so severe critics, that they would not take in his play, though it has as many fine things in it as any play that has been writ since the days of Dryden. He began his discourse about his play with a preface."There is," said he, "somewhat (however we palliate it) in the very frame and make of us, that subjects our minds to chagrin and irresolution on any emergency of time or place. The difficulty grows on our sickened imagination, under all the killing circumstances of danger and disappointment. This we see, not only in the men of retirement and fancy, but in the characters of the men of action; with this only difference, the coward sees the danger, and sickens under it; the hero, warmed by the difficulty, dilates, and rises in proportion to that, and in some sort makes use of his very fears to disarm it. A remarkable instance of this we have in the great Cæsar, when he came to the Rubicon, and was entering upon a part, perhaps, the most hazardous he ever bore (certainly the most ungrateful), a war with his countrymen. When his mind brooded over personal affronts, perhaps his anger burned with a desire of revenge. But when more serious reflections laid before him the hazard of the enterprise, with the dismal consequences which were likely to attend it, aggravated by a special circumstance, What figure it would bear in the world, or how be excused to posterity. What shall he do?—His honour, which was his religion, bids him arm; and he sounds the inclinations of his party, by this set speech:CÆSARto his Party at the Rubicon.Great Jove, attend, and thou my native soil,Safe in my triumphs, glutted in my spoil;Witness with what reluctance I opposeMy arms to thine, secure of other foes.What passive breast can bear disgrace like mine?Traitor!—For this I conquered on the Rhine,Endured their ten years' drudgery in Gaul,Adjourned their fate, and saved the Capitol.I grew by every guilty triumph less;The crowd, when drunk with joy, their souls express,Impatient of the war, yet fear success.Brave actions dazzle with too bright a ray,Like birds obscene they chatter at the day;Giddy with rule, and valiant in debate,They throw the die of war, to save the state;And gods! to gild ingratitude with fame,Assume the patriot's, we the rebel's name.Farewell, my friends, your general forlorn,To your bare pity, and the public scorn,Must lay that honour and his laurel down,To serve the vain caprices of the gown;Exposed to all indignities, the braveDeserve of those they gloried but to save,To rods and axes!—No, the slaves can't darePlay with my grief, and tempt my last despair.This shall the honours which it won maintain,Or do me justice, ere I hug my chain."The reason for cancelling this article when these papers were republished in octavo, is obvious; for, being printed by Steele, it would naturally be applied to the circumstances in which the Duke of Marlborough was at that time: "The Duke having his commission under the Great Seal, the order of the Queen was not sufficient to dissolve his power. His friends advised him to assemble, by his authority as general, all the troops in London, in the different squares, and to take possession of St. James's, and the person of the Queen. Oxford, apprised of this design, suddenly called together the Cabinet Council. Though he probably concealed his intelligence to prevent their fears, he told them of the necessity of superseding Marlborough under the Great Seal. This business was soon despatched. His dismission in form was sent to the Duke. The Earl of Oxford, no stranger to the character of Marlborough, knew that he would not act against law, by assembling the troops. The natural diffidence of his disposition had made him unfit for enterprises of danger, in a degree that furnished his enemies with insinuations against his personal courage."—(Macpherson's "State Papers," quoted by Nichols.)
[376]
The following article appeared only in the folio issue:—
A very ingenious gentleman was complaining this evening, that the players are grown so severe critics, that they would not take in his play, though it has as many fine things in it as any play that has been writ since the days of Dryden. He began his discourse about his play with a preface.
"There is," said he, "somewhat (however we palliate it) in the very frame and make of us, that subjects our minds to chagrin and irresolution on any emergency of time or place. The difficulty grows on our sickened imagination, under all the killing circumstances of danger and disappointment. This we see, not only in the men of retirement and fancy, but in the characters of the men of action; with this only difference, the coward sees the danger, and sickens under it; the hero, warmed by the difficulty, dilates, and rises in proportion to that, and in some sort makes use of his very fears to disarm it. A remarkable instance of this we have in the great Cæsar, when he came to the Rubicon, and was entering upon a part, perhaps, the most hazardous he ever bore (certainly the most ungrateful), a war with his countrymen. When his mind brooded over personal affronts, perhaps his anger burned with a desire of revenge. But when more serious reflections laid before him the hazard of the enterprise, with the dismal consequences which were likely to attend it, aggravated by a special circumstance, What figure it would bear in the world, or how be excused to posterity. What shall he do?—His honour, which was his religion, bids him arm; and he sounds the inclinations of his party, by this set speech:
Great Jove, attend, and thou my native soil,Safe in my triumphs, glutted in my spoil;Witness with what reluctance I opposeMy arms to thine, secure of other foes.What passive breast can bear disgrace like mine?Traitor!—For this I conquered on the Rhine,Endured their ten years' drudgery in Gaul,Adjourned their fate, and saved the Capitol.I grew by every guilty triumph less;The crowd, when drunk with joy, their souls express,Impatient of the war, yet fear success.Brave actions dazzle with too bright a ray,Like birds obscene they chatter at the day;Giddy with rule, and valiant in debate,They throw the die of war, to save the state;And gods! to gild ingratitude with fame,Assume the patriot's, we the rebel's name.Farewell, my friends, your general forlorn,To your bare pity, and the public scorn,Must lay that honour and his laurel down,To serve the vain caprices of the gown;Exposed to all indignities, the braveDeserve of those they gloried but to save,To rods and axes!—No, the slaves can't darePlay with my grief, and tempt my last despair.This shall the honours which it won maintain,Or do me justice, ere I hug my chain."
Great Jove, attend, and thou my native soil,Safe in my triumphs, glutted in my spoil;Witness with what reluctance I opposeMy arms to thine, secure of other foes.What passive breast can bear disgrace like mine?Traitor!—For this I conquered on the Rhine,Endured their ten years' drudgery in Gaul,Adjourned their fate, and saved the Capitol.I grew by every guilty triumph less;The crowd, when drunk with joy, their souls express,Impatient of the war, yet fear success.Brave actions dazzle with too bright a ray,Like birds obscene they chatter at the day;Giddy with rule, and valiant in debate,They throw the die of war, to save the state;And gods! to gild ingratitude with fame,Assume the patriot's, we the rebel's name.Farewell, my friends, your general forlorn,To your bare pity, and the public scorn,Must lay that honour and his laurel down,To serve the vain caprices of the gown;Exposed to all indignities, the braveDeserve of those they gloried but to save,To rods and axes!—No, the slaves can't darePlay with my grief, and tempt my last despair.This shall the honours which it won maintain,Or do me justice, ere I hug my chain."
Great Jove, attend, and thou my native soil,
Safe in my triumphs, glutted in my spoil;
Witness with what reluctance I oppose
My arms to thine, secure of other foes.
What passive breast can bear disgrace like mine?
Traitor!—For this I conquered on the Rhine,
Endured their ten years' drudgery in Gaul,
Adjourned their fate, and saved the Capitol.
I grew by every guilty triumph less;
The crowd, when drunk with joy, their souls express,
Impatient of the war, yet fear success.
Brave actions dazzle with too bright a ray,
Like birds obscene they chatter at the day;
Giddy with rule, and valiant in debate,
They throw the die of war, to save the state;
And gods! to gild ingratitude with fame,
Assume the patriot's, we the rebel's name.
Farewell, my friends, your general forlorn,
To your bare pity, and the public scorn,
Must lay that honour and his laurel down,
To serve the vain caprices of the gown;
Exposed to all indignities, the brave
Deserve of those they gloried but to save,
To rods and axes!—No, the slaves can't dare
Play with my grief, and tempt my last despair.
This shall the honours which it won maintain,
Or do me justice, ere I hug my chain."
The reason for cancelling this article when these papers were republished in octavo, is obvious; for, being printed by Steele, it would naturally be applied to the circumstances in which the Duke of Marlborough was at that time: "The Duke having his commission under the Great Seal, the order of the Queen was not sufficient to dissolve his power. His friends advised him to assemble, by his authority as general, all the troops in London, in the different squares, and to take possession of St. James's, and the person of the Queen. Oxford, apprised of this design, suddenly called together the Cabinet Council. Though he probably concealed his intelligence to prevent their fears, he told them of the necessity of superseding Marlborough under the Great Seal. This business was soon despatched. His dismission in form was sent to the Duke. The Earl of Oxford, no stranger to the character of Marlborough, knew that he would not act against law, by assembling the troops. The natural diffidence of his disposition had made him unfit for enterprises of danger, in a degree that furnished his enemies with insinuations against his personal courage."—(Macpherson's "State Papers," quoted by Nichols.)
No. 38.[?STEELE.377FromTuesday, July 5, toThursday, July 7, 1709.
I find among my brother's papers the following letter verbatim, which I wonder how he could suppress so long as he has, since it was sent him for no other end, but to show the good effect his writings have already had upon the ill customs of the age.
"London,June 23.
"SIR,
"The end of all public papers ought to be the benefit and instruction, as well as the diversion of the readers: to which I see none so truly conducive as your late performances; especially those tending to the rooting out from amongst us that unchristianlike and bloody custom of duelling; which, that you have already in some measure performed, will appear to the public in the following no less true than heroic story.
"A noble gentleman of this city, who has the honour of serving his country as major in the train-bands, being at that general mart of stockjobbers called Jonathan's,378endeavouring to raise himself (as all men of honour ought) to the degree of colonel at least; it happened that he bought the 'bear'379of another officer, who, though not commissioned in the army, yet no less eminently serves the public than the other, in raising the credit of the kingdom, by raising that of the stocks. However, having sold the 'bear,' and words arising about the delivery, the most noble major, no less scorning to be outwitted in the coffee-house, than to run into the field, according to method, abused the other with the titles of, 'rogue,' 'villain,' 'bearskin-man,' and the like. Whereupon satisfaction was demanded, and accepted: so, forth the major marched, commanding his adversary to follow. To a most spacious room in the sheriff's house, near the place of quarrel, they come; where, having due regard to what you have lately published, they resolved not to shed one another's blood in that barbarous manner you prohibited; yet, not willing to put up affronts without satisfaction, they stripped, and in decent manner fought full fairly with their wrathful hands. The combat lasted a quarter of an hour; in which time victory was often doubtful, and many a dry blow was strenuously laid on by each side, till the major finding his adversary obstinate, unwilling to give him further chastisement, with most shrill voice cried out, 'I am satisfied, enough.' Whereupon the combat ceased, and both were friends immediately.
"Thus the world may see, how necessary it is to encourage those men who make it their business to instructthe people in everything necessary for their preservation. I am informed, a body of worthy citizens have agreed on an address of thanks to you for what you have writ on the foregoing subject, whereby they acknowledge one of their highly esteemed officers preserved from death.
"Your humble Servant,
"A. B."
I fear the word "bear" is hardly to be understood among the polite people; but I take the meaning to be, that one who ensures a real value upon an imaginary thing, is said to sell a "bear," and is the same thing as a promise among courtiers, or a vow between lovers. I have writ to my brother to hasten to town; and hope, that printing the letters directed to him, which I knew not how to answer, will bring him speedily; and therefore I add also the following:
"July 5, 1709.
"MR. BICKERSTAFF,
You having hinted a generous intention of taking under your consideration the whisperers without business, and laughers without occasion; as you tender the welfare of your country, I entreat you not to forget or delay so public-spirited a work. Now or never is the time. Many other calamities may cease with the war; but I dismally dread the multiplication of these mortals under the ease and luxuriousness of a settled peace, half the blessing of which may be destroyed by them. Their mistake lies certainly here, in a wretched belief, that their mimicry passes for real business, or true wit. Dear sir, convince them, that it never was, is, or ever will be, either of them; nor ever did, does, or to all futurity ever can, look like either of them; but that it is the most curseddisturbance in nature, which is possible to be inflicted on mankind, under the noble definition of a sociable creature. In doing this, sir, you will oblige more humble servants than can find room to subscribe their names."
In pursuance of my last date from hence, I am to proceed on the accounts I promised of several personages among the men, whose conspicuous fortunes, or ambition in showing their follies, have exalted them above their fellows: the levity of their minds is visible in their every word and gesture, and there is not a day passes but puts me in mind of Mr. Wycherley's character of a coxcomb: "He is ugly all over with the affectation of the fine gentleman." Now though the women may put on softness in their looks, or affected severity, or impertinent gaiety, or pert smartness, their self-love and admiration cannot, under any of these disguises, appear so invincible as that of the men. You may easily take notice, that in all their actions there is a secret approbation, either in the tone of their voice, the turn of their body, or cast of their eye, which shows that they are extremely in their own favour. Take one of your men of business, he shall keep you half an hour with your hat off, entertaining you with his consideration of that affair you spoke of to him last, till he has drawn a crowd that observes you in this grimace. Then when he is public enough, he immediately runs into secrets, and falls a whispering. You and he make breaks with adverbs; as, "But however, thus far"; and then you whisper again, and so on, till they who are about you are dispersed, and your busy man's vanity is no longer gratified by the notice taken of what importance he is, and how inconsiderable you are; for your pretender to business is never in secret, but in public. There is my dear LordNowhere, of all men the most gracious and most obliging, the terror of allvalets-de-chambre, whom he oppresses with good breeding, in inquiring for my good lord, and for my good lady's health. This inimitable courtier will whisper a privy councillor's lackey with the utmost goodness and condescension, to know when they next sit; and is thoroughly taken up, and thinks he has a part in a secret, if he knows that there is a secret. "What it is," he will whisper you, "that time will discover"; then he shrugs, and calls you back again—"Sir, I need not say to you, that these things are not to be spoken of—and hark you, no names, I would not be quoted." What adds to the jest is, that his emptiness has its moods and seasons, and he will not condescend to let you into these his discoveries, except he is in very good humour, or has seen somebody in fashion talk to you. He will keep his nothing to himself, and pass by and overlook as well as the best of them; not observing that he is insolent when he is gracious, and obliging when he is haughty. Show me a woman so inconsiderable as this frequent character. But my mind (now I am in) turns to many no less observable: thou dear Will Shoestring!380I profess myself in love with thee: how shall I speak thee? How shall I address thee? How shall I draw thee? Thou dear outside! Will you be combing your wig,381playing with yourbox, or picking your teeth? Or choosest thou rather to be speaking; to be speaking for thy only purpose in speaking, to show your teeth? Rub them no longer, dear Shoestring: do not premeditate murder: do not for ever whiten: Oh! that for my quiet and his own they were rotten. But I will forget him, and give my hand to the courteous Umbra; he is a fine man indeed, but the soft creature bows below my apron-string before he takes it; but after the first ceremonies, he is as familiar as my physician, and his insignificancy makes me half ready to complain to him of all I would to my doctor. But he is so courteous, that he carries half the messages of ladies' ails in town to their midwives and nurses. He understands too the art of medicine as far as to the cure of a pimple or a rash. On occasions of the like importance, he is the most assiduous of all men living, in consulting and searching precedents from family to family; and then he speaks of his obsequiousness and diligence in the style of real services. If you sneer at him, and thank him for his great friendship, he bows, and says, "Madam, all the good offices in my power, while I have any knowledge or credit, shall be at your service." The consideration of so shallow a being, and the intent application with which he pursues trifles, has made me carefully reflect upon that sort of men we usually call an Impertinent: and I am, upon mature deliberation, so far from being offended with him, that I am really obliged to him; for though he will take you aside, and talk half an hour to you upon matters wholly insignificant with the most solemn air, yet I consider, that these things are of weight in his imagination, and he thinks he is communicating what is for my service. If therefore it be a just rule to judge of a man by his intention, according to the equity of good breeding, he that is impertinently kind or wise, to do you service, ought in return to have a proportionable place both in your affection and esteem; so that the courteous Umbra deserves the favour of all his acquaintance; for though he never served them, he is ever willing to do it, and believes he does it. But as impotent kindness is to be returned with all our abilities to oblige, so impotent malice is to be treated with all our force to depress it. For this reason Flyblow (who is received in all the families in town through the degeneracy and iniquity of their manners) is to be treated like a knave, though he is one of the weakest of fools: he has by rote, and at second-hand, all that can be said of any man of figure, wit, and virtue in town. Name a man of worth, and this creature tells you the worst passage of his life. Speak of a beautiful woman, and this puppy will whisper the next man to him, thoughhe has nothing to say of her. He is a Fly that feeds on the sore part, and would have nothing to live on, if the whole body were in health. You may know him by the frequency of pronouncing the particle "but"; for which reason I never hear him spoke of with common charity, without using my "but" against him: for a friend of mine saying the other day, Mrs. Distaff has wit, good humour, virtue, and friendship, this oaf added, "'But' she is not handsome." Coxcomb! The gentleman was saying what I was, not what I was not.
The approaches before Tournay have been carried on with great success; and our advices from the camp before that place of the 11th instant say, that they had already made a lodgment on the glacis. Two hundred boats were come up the Scheldt with a heavy artillery and ammunition, which would be employed in dismounting the enemy's defences, and raised on the batteries the 15th. A great body of miners are summoned to the camp to countermine the works of the enemy. We are convinced of the weakness of the garrison, by a certain account, that they called a council of war, to consult whether it was not advisable to march into the citadel, and leave the town defenceless. We are assured, that when the Confederate army was advancing towards the camp of Marshal Villars, that general despatched a courier to his master with a letter, giving an account of their approach, which concluded with the following words: "The day begins to break, and your Majesty's army is already in order of battle. Before noon, I hope to have the honour of congratulating your Majesty on the success of a great action; and you shall be very well satisfied with the Marshal Villars."
It is to be noted, that when any part of this paper appears dull, there is a design in it.382
[377]See note toNo. 36.[378]A coffee-house in Change Alley. SeeSpectator, No. 1, and Mrs. Centlivre's "Bold Stroke for a Wife."[379]SeeNo. 7.[380]Sir William Whitlocke, Knt., Member for Oxon, Bencher of the Middle Temple. He is the learned knight mentioned inNo. 43(Percy). This is confirmed by the MS. annotator mentioned in a note toNo. 4. Nichols explains that Whitlocke is called Will Shoestring, for his singularity in using shoe-strings, so long after the era of shoe-buckles, which commenced in the reign of Charles II., although ordinary people, and such as affected plainness in their garb, wore strings in their shoes after that time.[381]"Combing the peruke, at the time when men of fashion wore large wigs, was even at public places an act of gallantry. The combs, for this purpose, were of a very large size, of ivory or tortoise-shell, curiously chased and ornamented, and were carried in the pocket as constantly as the snuff-box. At Court, on the Mall, and in the boxes, gentlemen conversed and combed their perukes "(Sir John Hawkins' "Hist, of Music," vol. iv. p. 447, note). Cf. Dryden's prologue to "Almanzor and Almahide":—"But as when vizard mask appears in pit,Straight every man who thinks himself a wit,Perks up; and managing his comb with grace,With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face."And "The Fortune Hunters," act i. sc. 2 (1689): "He looked, indeed, and sighed, and set his cravat-string, and sighed again, and combed his periwig: sighed a third time, and then took snuff, I guess to show the whiteness of his hand." See, too, Wycherley's "Love in a Wood," act iii. sc. 1:—"DAPPERWIT. Let me prune and flounce my perruque a little for her; there's ne'er a young fellow in the town but will do as much for a mere stranger in the play-house."RANGER. A wit's wig has the privilege of being uncombed in the very play-house, or in the presence—"DAPPERWIT. But not in the presence of his mistress; 'tis a greater neglect of her than himself; pray lend me your comb.... She comes, she comes; pray, your comb. (SnatchesRANGER'Scomb.)"[382]"Mrs. Distaff hath received the Dialogue dated Monday evening, which she has sent forward to Mr. Bickerstaff at Maidenhead: and in the meantime gives her service to the parties" (folio).
[377]See note toNo. 36.
[377]
See note toNo. 36.
[378]A coffee-house in Change Alley. SeeSpectator, No. 1, and Mrs. Centlivre's "Bold Stroke for a Wife."
[378]
A coffee-house in Change Alley. SeeSpectator, No. 1, and Mrs. Centlivre's "Bold Stroke for a Wife."
[379]SeeNo. 7.
[379]
SeeNo. 7.
[380]Sir William Whitlocke, Knt., Member for Oxon, Bencher of the Middle Temple. He is the learned knight mentioned inNo. 43(Percy). This is confirmed by the MS. annotator mentioned in a note toNo. 4. Nichols explains that Whitlocke is called Will Shoestring, for his singularity in using shoe-strings, so long after the era of shoe-buckles, which commenced in the reign of Charles II., although ordinary people, and such as affected plainness in their garb, wore strings in their shoes after that time.
[380]
Sir William Whitlocke, Knt., Member for Oxon, Bencher of the Middle Temple. He is the learned knight mentioned inNo. 43(Percy). This is confirmed by the MS. annotator mentioned in a note toNo. 4. Nichols explains that Whitlocke is called Will Shoestring, for his singularity in using shoe-strings, so long after the era of shoe-buckles, which commenced in the reign of Charles II., although ordinary people, and such as affected plainness in their garb, wore strings in their shoes after that time.
[381]"Combing the peruke, at the time when men of fashion wore large wigs, was even at public places an act of gallantry. The combs, for this purpose, were of a very large size, of ivory or tortoise-shell, curiously chased and ornamented, and were carried in the pocket as constantly as the snuff-box. At Court, on the Mall, and in the boxes, gentlemen conversed and combed their perukes "(Sir John Hawkins' "Hist, of Music," vol. iv. p. 447, note). Cf. Dryden's prologue to "Almanzor and Almahide":—"But as when vizard mask appears in pit,Straight every man who thinks himself a wit,Perks up; and managing his comb with grace,With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face."And "The Fortune Hunters," act i. sc. 2 (1689): "He looked, indeed, and sighed, and set his cravat-string, and sighed again, and combed his periwig: sighed a third time, and then took snuff, I guess to show the whiteness of his hand." See, too, Wycherley's "Love in a Wood," act iii. sc. 1:—"DAPPERWIT. Let me prune and flounce my perruque a little for her; there's ne'er a young fellow in the town but will do as much for a mere stranger in the play-house."RANGER. A wit's wig has the privilege of being uncombed in the very play-house, or in the presence—"DAPPERWIT. But not in the presence of his mistress; 'tis a greater neglect of her than himself; pray lend me your comb.... She comes, she comes; pray, your comb. (SnatchesRANGER'Scomb.)"
[381]
"Combing the peruke, at the time when men of fashion wore large wigs, was even at public places an act of gallantry. The combs, for this purpose, were of a very large size, of ivory or tortoise-shell, curiously chased and ornamented, and were carried in the pocket as constantly as the snuff-box. At Court, on the Mall, and in the boxes, gentlemen conversed and combed their perukes "(Sir John Hawkins' "Hist, of Music," vol. iv. p. 447, note). Cf. Dryden's prologue to "Almanzor and Almahide":—
"But as when vizard mask appears in pit,Straight every man who thinks himself a wit,Perks up; and managing his comb with grace,With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face."
"But as when vizard mask appears in pit,Straight every man who thinks himself a wit,Perks up; and managing his comb with grace,With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face."
"But as when vizard mask appears in pit,
Straight every man who thinks himself a wit,
Perks up; and managing his comb with grace,
With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face."
And "The Fortune Hunters," act i. sc. 2 (1689): "He looked, indeed, and sighed, and set his cravat-string, and sighed again, and combed his periwig: sighed a third time, and then took snuff, I guess to show the whiteness of his hand." See, too, Wycherley's "Love in a Wood," act iii. sc. 1:—
"DAPPERWIT. Let me prune and flounce my perruque a little for her; there's ne'er a young fellow in the town but will do as much for a mere stranger in the play-house.
"RANGER. A wit's wig has the privilege of being uncombed in the very play-house, or in the presence—
"DAPPERWIT. But not in the presence of his mistress; 'tis a greater neglect of her than himself; pray lend me your comb.... She comes, she comes; pray, your comb. (SnatchesRANGER'Scomb.)"
[382]"Mrs. Distaff hath received the Dialogue dated Monday evening, which she has sent forward to Mr. Bickerstaff at Maidenhead: and in the meantime gives her service to the parties" (folio).
[382]
"Mrs. Distaff hath received the Dialogue dated Monday evening, which she has sent forward to Mr. Bickerstaff at Maidenhead: and in the meantime gives her service to the parties" (folio).
No. 39.[STEELE.By ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.FromThursday, July 7, toSaturday, July 9, 1709.
As I am called forth by the immense love I bear to my fellow creatures, and the warm inclination I feel within me, to stem, as far as I can, the prevailing torrent of vice and ignorance; so I cannot more properly pursue that noble impulse, than by setting forth the excellence of virtue and knowledge in their native and beautiful colours. For this reason I made my late excursion to Oxford, where those qualities appear in their highest lustre, and are the only pretences to honour and distinction: superiority is there given in proportion to men's advancement in wisdom and learning; and that just rule of life is so universally received among those happy people, that you shall see an earl walk bareheaded to the son of the meanest artificer, in respect to seven years more worth and knowledge than the nobleman is possessed of. In other places they bow to men's fortunes, but here to their understandings. It is not to be expressed, how pleasing the order, the discipline, the regularity of their lives, is to a philosopher, who has, by many years' experience in the world, learned to contemn everything but what is reveredin this mansion of select and well-taught spirits. The magnificence of their palaces, the greatness of their revenues, the sweetness of their groves and retirements, seem equally adapted for the residence of princes and philosophers; and a familiarity with objects of splendour, as well as places of recess, prepares the inhabitants with an equanimity for their future fortunes, whether humble or illustrious. How was I pleased when I looked round at St. Mary's, and could, in the faces of the ingenious youth, see ministers of state, chancellors, bishops, and judges. Here only is human life! Here only the life of man is a rational being! Here men understand and are employed in works worthy their noble nature. This transitory being passes away in an employment not unworthy a future state, the contemplation of the great decrees of Providence. Each man lives as if he were to answer the questions made to Job, "Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?... Who shut up the sea with doors, ... and said, Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further?"383Such speculations make life agreeable, make death welcome, But alas! I was torn from this noble society by the business of this dirty mean world, and the cares of fortune: for I was obliged to be in town against the 7th day of the term, and accordingly governed myself by my Oxford Almanack, and came last night; but find, to my great astonishment, that this ignorant town began the term on the 24th of the last month, in opposition to all the learning and astronomy of the famous university of which I have been speaking; according to which, the term certainly was to commence on the 1st instant.384You may be sure, a man who has turned his studies as I have, could not bemistaken in point of time; for knowing I was to come to town in term, I examined the passing moments very narrowly, and called an eminent astronomer to my assistance. Upon very strict observation we found, that the cold has been so severe this last winter (which is allowed to have a benumbing quality), that it retarded the earth in moving round from Christmas to this season full seven days and two seconds. My learned friend assured me further, that the earth had lately received a shog from a comet that crossed its vortex, which, if it had come ten degrees nearer us, had made us lose this whole term. I was indeed once of opinion, that the Gregorian computation was the most regular, as being eleven days before the Julian; but am now fully convinced, that we ought to be seven days after the chancellor and judges, and eighteen before the Pope of Rome; and that the Oxonian computation is the best of the three. These are the reasons which I have gathered from philosophy and nature; to which I can add other circumstances in vindication of the account of this learned body who published this almanack. It is notorious to philosophers, that joy and grief can hasten and delay time. Mr. Locke is of opinion, that a man in great misery may so far lose his measure, as to think a minute an hour; or in joy, make an hour a minute. Let us examine the present case by this rule, and we shall find, that the cause of this general mistake in the British nation, has been the great success of the last campaign, and the following hopes of peace. Stocks ran so high at the 'Change, that the citizens had gained three days of the courtiers; and we have indeed been so happy this reign, that if the University did not rectify our mistakes, we should think ourselves but in the second year of her present Majesty. It would be endless to enumerate the many damages that have happened by thisignorance of the vulgar. All the recognisances within the Diocese of Oxford have been forfeited, for not appearing on the first day of this fictitious term. The University has been nonsuited in their action against the booksellers for printing Clarendon in quarto. But indeed what gives me the most quick concern, is the case of a poor gentleman my friend, who was the other day taken in execution by a set of ignorant bailiffs. He should, it seems, have pleaded in the first week of term; but being a Master of Arts of Oxford, he would not recede from the Oxonian computation. He showed Mr. Broad the almanack, and the very day when the term began; but the merciless ignorant fellow, against all sense and learning, would hurry him away. He went indeed quietly enough; but he has taken exact notes of the time of arrest, and sufficient witnesses of his being carried into gaol; and has, by advice of the Recorder of Oxford, brought his action; and we doubt not but we shall pay them off with damages, and blemish the reputation of Mr. Broad. We have one convincing proof, which all that frequent the Courts of Justice are witnesses of: the dog that comes constantly to Westminster on the first day of the term, did not appear till the first day according to the Oxford Almanack; whose instinct I take to be a better guide than men's erroneous opinions, which are usually biased by interest. I judge in this case, as King Charles II. victualled his navy, with the bread which one of his dogs chose of several pieces thrown before him, rather than trust to the asseverations of the victuallers. Mr. Cowper,385and other learned counsel, have already urged the authority of this almanack, in behalf of theirclients. We shall therefore go on with all speed in our cause; and doubt not, but Chancery will give at the end what we lost in the beginning, by protracting the term for us till Wednesday come se'nnight: and the University orator shall for ever pray, &c.
The subject of duels386has, I find, been started with so good success, that it has been the frequent subject of conversation among polite men; and a dialogue of that kind has been transmitted to me verbatim, as follows. The persons concerned in it are men of honour, and experience in the manners of men, and have fallen upon the truest foundation, as well as searched the bottom, of this evil.
Mr. SAGE. If it were in my power, every man that drew his sword, unless in the Service, or purely to defend his life, person, or goods, from violence (I mean abstracted from all punctos or whims of honour) should ride the wooden horse in the Tilt Yard387for such first offence, for the second stand in the pillory, and for the third be prisoner in Bedlam for life.
Col. PLUME. I remember, that a rencounter or duel was so far from being in fashion among the officers that served in the Parliament army, that on the contrary, it was as disreputable, and as great an impediment to advancement in the Service, as being bashful in time of action.
Sir MARK. Yet I have been informed by some old Cavaliers, of famous reputation for brave and gallant men, that they were much more in mode among their party, than they have been during this last war.
Col. PLUME. That is true too, sir.Mr. SAGE. By what you say, gentlemen, one should think that our present military officers are compounded of an equal proportion of both those tempers; since duels are neither quite discountenanced, nor much in vogue.
Sir MARK. That difference of temper, in regard to duels, which appears to have been between the Court and Parliament-men of the sword, was not (I conceive) for want of courage in the latter, nor of a liberal education; because there were some of the best families in England engaged in that party; but gallantry and mode, which glitter agreeably to the imagination, were encouraged by the Court, as promoting its splendour; and it was as natural that the contrary party (who were to recommend themselves to the public for men of serious and solid parts) should deviate from everything chimerical.
Mr. SAGE. I have never read of a duel among the Romans; and yet their nobility used more liberty with their tongues than one may do now without being challenged.
Sir MARK. Perhaps the Romans were of opinion, that ill language, and brutal manners, reflected only on those who were guilty of them; and that a man's reputation was not at all cleared by cutting the person's throat who had reflected upon it: but the custom of those times had fixed the scandal in the action; whereas now it lies in the reproach.
Mr. SAGE. And yet the only sort of duel that one can conceive to have been fought upon motives truly honourable and allowable, was that between the Horatii and Curiatii.
Sir MARK. Colonel Plume, pray what was the method of single combat in your time among the Cavaliers? I suppose, that as the use of clothes continues, though thefashion of them has been mutable; so duels, though still in use, have had in all times their particular modes of performance.
Col. PLUME. We had no constant rule, but generally conducted our dispute and tilt according to the last that had happened between persons of reputation among the very top fellows for bravery and gallantry.
Sir MARK. If the fashion of quarrelling and tilting was so often changed in your time, Colonel Plume, a man might fight, yet lose his credit for want of understanding the fashion.
Col. PLUME. Why, Sir Mark, in the beginning of July, a man would have been censured for want of courage, or been thought indigent of the true notions of honour, if he had put up [with] words, which in the end of September following, one could not resent without passing for a brutal and quarrelsome fellow.
Sir MARK. But, Colonel, were duels or rencounters most in fashion in those days?
Col. PLUME. Your men of nice honour, sir, were for avoiding all censure of advantage which they supposed might be taken in a rencounter; therefore they used seconds, who were to see that all was upon the square, and make a faithful report of the whole combat; but in a little time it became a fashion for the seconds to fight, and I'll tell you how it happened.
Mr. SAGE. Pray do, Colonel Plume, and the method of a duel at that time, and give us some notion of the punctos upon which your nice men quarrelled in those days.
Col. PLUME. I was going to tell you, Mr. Sage, that one Cornet Modish had desired his friend, Captain Smart's, opinion in some affair, but did not follow it; upon which Captain Smart sent Major Adroit (a verytopping fellow of those times) to the person that had slighted his advice. The Major never inquired into the quarrel, because it was not the manner then among the very topping fellows; but got two swords of an equal length, and then waited upon Cornet Modish, desiring him to choose his sword, and meet his friend Captain Smart. Cornet Modish came with his friend to the place of combat; there the principals put on their pumps, and stripped to their shirts, to show they had nothing but what men of honour carry about them, and then engaged.
Sir MARK. And did the seconds stand by, sir?
Col. PLUME. It was a received custom till that time; but the swords of those days being pretty long, and the principals acting on both sides upon the defensive, and the morning being frosty, Major Adroit desired that the other second, who was also a very topping fellow, would try a thrust or two only to keep them warm, till the principals had decided the matter, which was agreed to by Modish's second, who presently whipped Adroit through the body, disarmed him, and then parted the principals, who had received no harm at all.
Mr. SAGE. But was not Adroit laughed at?
Col. PLUME. On the contrary, the very topping fellows were ever after of opinion, that no man who deserved that character, could serve as a second, without fighting; and the Smarts and Modishes finding their account in it, the humour took without opposition.
Mr. SAGE. Pray, Colonel, how long did that fashion continue?
Col. PLUME, Not long neither, Mr. Sage; for as soon as it became a fashion, the very topping fellows thought their honour reflected upon, if they did not proffer themselves as seconds when any of their friends had a quarrel; so that sometimes there were a dozen of a side.
Sir MARK. Bless me! If that custom had continued, we should have been at a loss now for our very pretty fellows; for they seem to be the proper men to officer, animate, and keep up an army: but, pray, sir, how did that sociable manner of tilting grow out of mode?
Col. PLUME. Why, sir, I'll tell you; it was a law among the combatants, that the party which happened to have the first man disarmed or killed, should yield as vanquished; which some people thought might encourage the Modishes and Smarts in quarrelling, to the destruction of only the very topping fellows; and as soon as this reflection was started, the very topping fellows thought it an incumbrance upon their honour to fight at all themselves. Since that time, the Modishes and the Smarts, throughout all Europe, have extolled the French king's edict.
Sir MARK. Our very pretty fellows, whom I take to be the successors of the very topping fellows, think a quarrel so little fashionable, that they will not be exposed to it by another man's vanity, or want of sense.
Mr. SAGE. But, Colonel, I have observed in your account of duels, that there was a great exactness in avoiding all advantage that might possibly be between the combatants.
Col. PLUME. That's true, sir; for the weapons were always equal.
Mr. SAGE. Yes, sir; but suppose an active, adroit, strong man, had insulted an awkward, or a feeble, or an unpractised swordsman.
Col. PLUME. Then, sir, they fought with pistols.
Mr. SAGE. But, sir, there might be a certain advantage that way; for a good marksman will be sure to hit his man at twenty yards distance; and a man whose hand shakes (which is common to men that debauch in pleasures,or have not used pistols out of their holsters) won't venture to fire, unless he touches the person he shoots at. Now, sir, I am of opinion, that one can get no honour in killing a man (if one has it all rug,388as the gamesters say), when they have a trick to make the game secure, though they seem to play upon the square.
Sir MARK. In truth, Mr. Sage, I think such a fact must be murder in a man's own private conscience, whatever it may appear to the world.
Col. PLUME. I have known some men so nice, that they would not fight but upon a cloak without pistols.
Mr. SAGE. I believe a custom, well established, would outdo the Grand Monarch's edict.389
Sir MARK. And bullies would then leave off their long swords; but I don't find that a very pretty fellow can stay to change his sword, when he is insulted by a bully with a long diego,390though his own at the same time be no longer than a penknife; which will certainly be the case, if such little swords are in mode. Pray, Colonel, how was it between the hectors of your time and the very topping fellows?
Col. PLUME. Sir, long swords happened to be generally worn in those times.
Mr. SAGE. In answer to what you were saying, Sir Mark, give me leave to inform you, that your knights-errant (who were the very pretty fellows of those ancient times) thought they could not honourably yield, though theyhad fought their own trusty weapons to the stumps; but would venture as boldly with the page's leaden sword, as if it had been of enchanted metal. Whence I conceive, there must be a spice of romantic gallantry in the composition of that very pretty fellow.
Sir MARK. I am of opinion, Mr. Sage, that fashion governs a very pretty fellow; nature, or common sense, your ordinary persons, and sometimes men of fine parts.
Mr. SAGE. But what is the reason, that men of the most excellent sense and morals (in other points) associate their understandings with the very pretty fellows in that chimæra of a duel?
Sir MARK. There's no disputing against so great a majority.
Mr. SAGE. But there is one scruple (Colonel Plume) and I have done: don't you believe there may be some advantage even upon a cloak with pistols, which a man of nice honour would scruple to take?
Col. PLUME. Faith, I can't tell, sir; but since one may reasonably suppose, that (in such a case) there can be but one so far in the wrong as to occasion matters to come to that extremity, I think the chance of being killed should fall but on one; whereas by their close and desperate manner of fighting, it may very probably happen to both.
Sir MARK. Why, gentlemen, if they are men of such nice honour (and must fight), there will be no fear of foul play, if they threw up cross or pile391who should be shot.