FOOTNOTES:

----"Yet when I approachHer loveliness, so absolute she seems,And in herself complete, so well to knowHer own, that what she wills, or do, or say,Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.All higher knowledge in her presence fallsDegraded. Wisdom, in discourse with her,Loses, discountenanced, and like Folly shows.Authority and Reason on her wait,As one intended first, not after madeOccasionally: and to consummate allGreatness of mind and nobleness, their seatBuild in her loveliest, and create an aweAbout her, as a guard angelic placed."[323]

FOOTNOTES:[322]See No. 100.[323]"Paradise Lost," viii. 546.

[322]See No. 100.

[323]"Paradise Lost," viii. 546.

FromSaturday, Dec. 3, toTuesday, Dec. 6, 1709.

——Hæ nugæ seria ducentIn mala derisum semel exceptumque sinistre.

Hor., Ars Poet., 45.

There is nothing gives a man greater satisfaction than the sense of having despatched a great deal of business, especially when it turns to the public emolument. I have much pleasure of this kind upon my spirits at present, occasioned by the fatigue of affairs which I went through last Saturday. It is some time since I set apart that day for examining the pretensions of several who had applied to me for canes, perspective-glasses, snuff-boxes, orange-flower waters, and the like ornaments of life. In order to adjust this matter, I had before directed Charles Lillie of Beauford Buildings to prepare a great bundle of blank licences in the following words:

"You are hereby required to permit the bearer of this cane to pass and repass through the streets and suburbs of London, or any place within ten miles of it, without let or molestation; provided that he does not walk with it under his arm, brandish it in the air, or hang it on a button: in which case it shall be forfeited; and I hereby declare it forfeited to any one who shall think it safe to take it from him."Isaac Bickerstaff."

"Isaac Bickerstaff."

The same form, differing only in the provisos, will serve for a perspective, snuff-box, or perfumed handkerchief. I had placed myself in my elbow-chair at the upper end of my great parlour, having ordered Charles Lillie to take his place upon a joint-stool with a writing-desk before him. John Morphew[325]also took his station at the door; I having, for his good and faithful services, appointed him my chamber-keeper upon court-days. He let me know, that there were a great number attending without. Upon which, I ordered him to give notice, that I did not intend to sit upon snuff-boxes that day; but that those who appeared for canes might enter. The first presented me with the following petition, which I ordered Mr. Lillie to read:

"ToIsaac Bickerstaff, Esq., Censor of Great Britain."The humble Petition of Simon Trippit:"Sheweth—That your petitioner having been bred up to a cane from his youth, it is now become as necessary to him as any other of his limbs."That a great part of his behaviour depending upon it, he should be reduced to the utmost necessities if he should lose the use of it."That the knocking of it upon his shoe, leaning one leg upon it, or whistling with it on his mouth, are such great reliefs to him in conversation, that he does not know how to be good company without it."That he is at present engaged in an amour, and must despair of success, if it be taken from him."Your petitioner therefore hopes, that (the premises tenderly considered) your Worship will not deprive him of so useful and so necessary a support."/* And your petitioner shall ever, &c."

"ToIsaac Bickerstaff, Esq., Censor of Great Britain.

"The humble Petition of Simon Trippit:

"Sheweth—That your petitioner having been bred up to a cane from his youth, it is now become as necessary to him as any other of his limbs.

"That a great part of his behaviour depending upon it, he should be reduced to the utmost necessities if he should lose the use of it.

"That the knocking of it upon his shoe, leaning one leg upon it, or whistling with it on his mouth, are such great reliefs to him in conversation, that he does not know how to be good company without it.

"That he is at present engaged in an amour, and must despair of success, if it be taken from him.

"Your petitioner therefore hopes, that (the premises tenderly considered) your Worship will not deprive him of so useful and so necessary a support.

"/* And your petitioner shall ever, &c."

Upon the hearing of his case, I was touched with some compassion, and the more so when upon observing him nearer I found he was a prig. I bade him produce his cane in court, which he had left at the door. He did so, and I finding it to be very curiously clouded, with a transparent amber head, and a blue ribbon to hang upon his wrist,[326]I immediately ordered my clerk Lillie to lay it up, and deliver out to him a plain joint headed with walnut; and then, in order to wean him from it by degrees, permitted him to wear it three days in a week, and to abate proportionably till he found himself able to go alone.

The second who appeared, came limping into the court: and setting forth in his petition many pretences for the use of a cane, I caused them to be examined one by one; but finding him in different stories, and confronting him with several witnesses who had seen him walk upright, I ordered Mr. Lillie to take in his cane, and rejected his petition as frivolous.

A third made his entry with great difficulty, leaning upon a slight stick, and in danger of falling every step he took. I saw the weakness of his hams; and hearing that he had married a young wife about a fortnight before, I bade him leave his cane, and gave him a new pair of crutches, with which he went off in great vigour and alacrity. This gentleman was succeeded by another, who seemed very much pleased while his petition was reading, in which he had represented, that he was extremely afflicted with the gout, and set his foot upon the ground with the caution and dignity which accompany that distemper. I suspected him for an impostor, and having ordered him to be searched, Icommitted him into the hands of Dr. Thomas Smith,[327]in King Street (my own corn-cutter), who attended in an outward room, and wrought so speedy a cure upon him, that I thought fit to send him also away without his cane.

While I was thus dispensing justice, I heard a noise in my outward room; and inquiring what was the occasion of it, my door-keeper told me, that they had taken up one in the very fact as he was passing by my door. They immediately brought in a lively fresh-coloured young man, who made great resistance with hand and foot, but did not offer to make use of his cane, which hung upon his fifth button. Upon examination, I found him to be an Oxford scholar, who was just entered at the Temple. He at first disputed the jurisdiction of the court; but being driven out of his little law and logic, he told me very pertly, that he looked upon such a perpendicular creature as man to make a very imperfect figure without a cane in his hand. "It is well known," says he, "we ought, according to the natural situation of our bodies, to walk upon our hands and feet; and that the wisdom of the ancients had described man to be an animal of four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three at night; by which they intimated, that a cane might very properly become part of us in some period of life." Upon which I asked him, whether he wore it at his breast to have it in readiness when that period should arrive? My young lawyer immediately told me, he had a property in it, and a right to hang it where he pleased, and to make use of it as he thought fit, provided that he did not break the peace with it: and further said, that he never took it off his button, unless it were to lift it up at a coachman, hold it over the head of a drawer, point out the circumstances of a story, or for other services of the like nature, that are all within the laws of the land. I did not care for discouraging a young man who, I saw, would come to good; and because his heart was set upon his new purchase, I only ordered him to wear it about his neck, instead of hanging it upon his button, and so dismissed him. There were several appeared in court whose pretensions I found to be very good, and therefore gave them their licences upon paying their fees; as many others had their licences renewed who required more time for recovery of their lameness than I had before allowed them.

Having despatched this set of my petitioners, there came in a well-dressed man, with a glass tube in one hand, and his petition in the other. Upon his entering the room, he threw back the right side of his wig, put forward his right leg, and advancing the glass to his right eye, aimed it directly at me. In the meanwhile, to make my observations also, I put on my spectacles; in which posture we surveyed each other for some time. Upon the removal of our glasses, I desired him to read his petition, which he did very promptly and easily; though at the same time it set forth, that he could see nothing distinctly, and was within very few degrees of being utterly blind; concluding with a prayer, that he might be permitted to strengthen and extend his sight by a glass. In answer to this I told him, he might sometimes extend it to his own destruction. "As you are now," said I, "you are out of the reach of beauty; the shafts of the finest eyes lose their force before they can come at you; you can't distinguish a toast from an orange-wench; you can see a whole circle of beauty without any interruption from an impertinent face to discompose you. In short, what are snares for others—" My petitioner would hear no more, but told me very seriously, "Mr. Bickerstaff, you quite mistake your man; it is the joy, the pleasure, the employment of my life, to frequent public assemblies, and gaze upon the fair." In a word, I found his use of a glass was occasioned by no other infirmity but his vanity, and was not so much designed to make him see, as to make him be seen and distinguished by others. I therefore refused him a licence for a perspective, but allowed him a pair of spectacles, with full permission to use them in any public assembly as he should think fit. He was followed by so very few of this order of men, that I havereason to hope this sort of cheats are almost at an end.

The orange-flower men appeared next with petitions, perfumed so strongly with musk, that I was almost overcome with the scent; and for my own sake was obliged forthwith to license their handkerchiefs, especially when I found they had sweetened them at Charles Lillie's, and that some of their persons would not be altogether inoffensive without them. John Morphew, whom I have made the general of my dead men, acquainted me, that the petitioners were all of that order, and could produce certificates to prove it if I required it. I was so well pleased with this way of their embalming themselves, that I commanded the above-said Morphew to give it in orders to his whole army, that every one who did not surrender himself up to be disposed of by the Upholders should use the same method to keep himself sweet during his present state of putrefaction.

I finished my session with great content of mind, reflecting upon the good I had done; for however slightly men may regard these particularities and little follies in dress and behaviour, they lead to greater evils. The bearing to be laughed at for such singularities, teach us insensibly an impertinent fortitude, and enable us to bear public censure for things which more substantially deserve it. By this means they open a gate to folly, and oftentimes render a man so ridiculous as to discredit his virtues and capacities, and unqualify them from doing any good in the world. Besides, the giving into uncommon habits of this nature is a want of that humble deference which is due to mankind, and (what is worst of all) the certain indication of some secret flaw in the mind of the person that commits them. When I was a young man, I remember a gentleman of great integrityand worth was very remarkable for wearing a broad belt, and a hanger instead of a fashionable sword, though in all other points a very well-bred man. I suspected him at first sight to have something wrong in him, but was not able for a long while to discover any collateral proofs of it. I watched him narrowly for six-and-thirty years, when at last, to the surprise of everybody but myself, who had long expected to see the folly break out, he married his own cook-maid.

FOOTNOTES:[324]"Written by Addison and Steele jointly" (Tickell).[325]The publisher of the original issue of theTatler.[326]See No. 26.[327]"In King Street, Westminster, liveth Thomas Smith, who, by experience and ingenuity, has learnt the art of taking out and curing all manner of corns, without pain or drawing blood. He likewise takes out all manner of nails which cause any disaster, trouble, or pain, which no man in England can do the like. He can, on several occasions, help persons afflicted, as killing the scurvy in the gums; though they be eaten away never so much, he can raise them up again. He cures the toothache in half-an hour, let the pain be never so great, and cleanses and preserves the teeth. He can, with God's assistance, perform the same in a little time. I wear a silver badge, with three verses, the first in English, the second in Dutch, the third in French, with the States of Holland's crownet on the top, which was given me as a present by the States-General of Holland, for the many cures, &c. My name on the badge underwritten, Thomas Smith, who will not fail, God willing, to make out every particular in this bill, &c., &c."The famousest ware in England, which never fails to cure the toothache in half-an-hour, price 1s. the bottle. Likewise a powder for cleansing the teeth, which makes them as ivory, without wearing them, and without prejudice to the gums, 1s. the box. Also two sorts of water for curing the scurvy in the gums; though they are eaten away to the bottom, it will heal them, and cause them to grow as firm as ever; very safe, without mercury, or any unwholesome spirit. To avoid counterfeits, they are only sold at his own house, &c.; price of each bottle half a crown, or more, according to the bigness, with directions." Smith seems in the course of the week to have made his appearance, at fixed times, in every coffee-house then in London. (Harl. MSS., 5931.) See No. 187.

[324]"Written by Addison and Steele jointly" (Tickell).

[325]The publisher of the original issue of theTatler.

[326]See No. 26.

[327]"In King Street, Westminster, liveth Thomas Smith, who, by experience and ingenuity, has learnt the art of taking out and curing all manner of corns, without pain or drawing blood. He likewise takes out all manner of nails which cause any disaster, trouble, or pain, which no man in England can do the like. He can, on several occasions, help persons afflicted, as killing the scurvy in the gums; though they be eaten away never so much, he can raise them up again. He cures the toothache in half-an hour, let the pain be never so great, and cleanses and preserves the teeth. He can, with God's assistance, perform the same in a little time. I wear a silver badge, with three verses, the first in English, the second in Dutch, the third in French, with the States of Holland's crownet on the top, which was given me as a present by the States-General of Holland, for the many cures, &c. My name on the badge underwritten, Thomas Smith, who will not fail, God willing, to make out every particular in this bill, &c., &c."The famousest ware in England, which never fails to cure the toothache in half-an-hour, price 1s. the bottle. Likewise a powder for cleansing the teeth, which makes them as ivory, without wearing them, and without prejudice to the gums, 1s. the box. Also two sorts of water for curing the scurvy in the gums; though they are eaten away to the bottom, it will heal them, and cause them to grow as firm as ever; very safe, without mercury, or any unwholesome spirit. To avoid counterfeits, they are only sold at his own house, &c.; price of each bottle half a crown, or more, according to the bigness, with directions." Smith seems in the course of the week to have made his appearance, at fixed times, in every coffee-house then in London. (Harl. MSS., 5931.) See No. 187.

"The famousest ware in England, which never fails to cure the toothache in half-an-hour, price 1s. the bottle. Likewise a powder for cleansing the teeth, which makes them as ivory, without wearing them, and without prejudice to the gums, 1s. the box. Also two sorts of water for curing the scurvy in the gums; though they are eaten away to the bottom, it will heal them, and cause them to grow as firm as ever; very safe, without mercury, or any unwholesome spirit. To avoid counterfeits, they are only sold at his own house, &c.; price of each bottle half a crown, or more, according to the bigness, with directions." Smith seems in the course of the week to have made his appearance, at fixed times, in every coffee-house then in London. (Harl. MSS., 5931.) See No. 187.

FromTuesday, Dec. 6, toThursday, Dec. 8, 1709.

----Garrit anilesEx re fabellas——

Hor., 2 Sat. vi. 77.

My brother Tranquillus being gone out of town for some days, my sister Jenny sent me word she would come and dine with me, and therefore desired me to have no other company. I took care accordingly, and was not a little pleased to see her enter the room with a decent and matron-like behaviour, which I thought very much became her. I saw she had a great deal to say to me, and easily discovered in her eyes, and the air of her countenance, that she had abundance of satisfaction in her heart, which she longed to communicate. However, I was resolved to let her break into her discourse her own way, and reduced her to a thousand little devices and intimations to bring me to the mention of her husband. But finding I was resolved not to name him, she began of her own accord. "My husband," said she, "gives his humble service to you;" to which I only answered, "Ihope he is well," and without waiting for a reply, fell into other subjects. She at last was out of all patience, and said (with a smile and manner that I thought had more beauty and spirit than I had ever observed before in her), "I did not think, brother, you had been so ill-natured. You have seen, ever since I came in, that I had a mind to talk of my husband, and you won't be so kind as to give me an occasion." "I did not know," said I, "but it might be a disagreeable subject to you. You do not take me for so old-fashioned a fellow as to think of entertaining a young lady with the discourse of her husband. I know, nothing is more acceptable than to speak of one who is to be so; but to speak of one who is so! Indeed, Jenny, I am a better bred man than you think me." She showed a little dislike at my raillery; and by her bridling up, I perceived she expected to be treated hereafter not as Jenny Distaff, but Mrs. Tranquillus. I was very well pleased with this change in her humour; and upon talking with her on several subjects, I could not but fancy that I saw a great deal of her husband's way and manner in her remarks, her phrases, the tone of her voice, and the very air of her countenance. This gave me an unspeakable satisfaction, not only because I had found her a husband, from whom she could learn many things that were laudable, but also because I looked upon her imitation of him as an infallible sign that she entirely loved him. This is an observation that I never knew fail, though I do not remember that any other has made it. The natural shyness of her sex hindered her from telling me the greatness of her own passion; but I easily collected it, from the representation she gave me of his. "I have everything," says she, "in Tranquillus that I can wish for; and enjoy in him (what indeed you have told me were to be met with in a good husband) the fondnessof a lover, the tenderness of a parent, and the intimacy of a friend." It transported me to see her eyes swimming in tears of affection when she spoke. "And is there not, dear sister," said I, "more pleasure in the possession of such a man than in all the little impertinences of balls, assemblies, and equipage, which it cost me so much pains to make you contemn?" She answered, smiling, "Tranquillus has made me a sincere convert in a few weeks, though I am afraid you could not have done it in your whole life. To tell you truly, I have only one fear hanging upon me, which is apt to give me trouble in the midst of all my satisfactions: I am afraid, you must know, that I shall not always make the same amiable appearance in his eye that I do at present. You know, brother Bickerstaff, that you have the reputation of a conjurer; and if you have any one secret in your art to make your sister always beautiful, I should be happier than if I were mistress of all the worlds you have shown me in a starry night." "Jenny," said I, "without having recourse to magic, I shall give you one plain rule, that will not fail of making you always amiable to a man who has so great a passion for you, and is of so equal and reasonable a temper as Tranquillus. Endeavour to please, and you must please; be always in the same disposition as you are when you ask for this secret, and, you may take my word, you will never want it. An inviolable fidelity, good humour, and complacency of temper outlive all the charms of a fine face, and make the decays of it invisible."

We discoursed very long upon this head, which was equally agreeable to us both; for I must confess (as I tenderly love her), I take as much pleasure in giving her instructions for her welfare as she herself does in receiving them. I proceeded therefore to inculcate thesesentiments, by relating a very particular passage that happened within my own knowledge.

There were several of us making merry at a friend's house in a country village, when the sexton of the parish church entered the room in a sort of surprise, and told us, that as he was digging a grave in the chancel, a little blow of his pick-axe opened a decayed coffin, in which there were several written papers. Our curiosity was immediately raised, so that we went to the place where the sexton had been at work, and found a great concourse of people about the grave. Among the rest, there was an old woman, who told us, the person buried there was a lady, whose name I do not think fit to mention, though there is nothing in the story but what tends very much to her honour[328]. This lady lived several years an exemplary pattern of conjugal love, and dying soon after her husband, who every way answered her character in virtue and affection, made it her death-bed request, that all the letters which she had received from him, both before and after her marriage, should be buried in the coffin with her. These I found upon examination were the papers before us. Several of them had suffered so much by time, that I could only pick out a few words; as, "My soul!" "Lilies!" "Roses!" "Dearest angel!" and the like. One of them (which was legible throughout) ran thus:

"Madam,"If you would know the greatness of my love, consider that of your own beauty. That blooming countenance, that snowy bosom, that graceful person, return every moment to my imagination: the brightness of your eyes hath hindered me from closing mine since I last saw you. You may still add to your beauties by a smile. A frown will make me the most wretched of men, as I am the most passionate of lovers."

"Madam,

"If you would know the greatness of my love, consider that of your own beauty. That blooming countenance, that snowy bosom, that graceful person, return every moment to my imagination: the brightness of your eyes hath hindered me from closing mine since I last saw you. You may still add to your beauties by a smile. A frown will make me the most wretched of men, as I am the most passionate of lovers."

It filled the whole company with a deep melancholy, to compare the description of the letter with the person that occasioned it, who was now reduced to a few crumbling bones, and a little mouldering heap of earth. With much ado I deciphered another letter, which begun with "My dear, dear wife." This gave me a curiosity to see how the style of one written in marriage differed from one written in courtship. To my surprise, I found the fondness rather augmented than lessened, though the panegyric turned upon a different accomplishment. The words were as follow:

"Before this short absence from you, I did not know that I loved you so much as I really do; though at the same time, I thought I loved you as much as possible. I am under great apprehensions, lest you should have any uneasiness whilst I am defrauded of my share in it, and can't think of tasting any pleasures that you don't partake with me. Pray, my dear, be careful of your health, if for no other reason because you know I could not outlive you. It is natural in absence to make professions of an inviolable constancy; but towards so much merit, it is scarce a virtue, especially when it is but a bare return to that of which you havegiven me such continued proofs ever since our first acquaintance."I am, &c."

"I am, &c."

It happened that the daughter of these two excellent persons was by when I was reading this letter. At the sight of the coffin, in which was the body of her mother, near that of her father, she melted into a flood of tears. As I had heard a great character of her virtue, and observed in her this instance of filial piety, I could not resist my natural inclination of giving advice to young people, and therefore addressed myself to her: "Young lady," said I, "you see how short is the possession of that beauty in which Nature has been so liberal to you. You find the melancholy sight before you, is a contradiction to the first letter that you heard on that subject; whereas you may observe, the second letter, which celebrates your mother's constancy, is itself, being found in this place, an argument of it. But, Madam, I ought to caution you, not to think the bodies that lie before you, your father and your mother. Know their constancy is rewarded by a nobler union than by this mingling of their ashes, in a state where there is no danger or possibility of a second separation."

FOOTNOTES:[328]We are told that a son of Sir Thomas Chicheley, one of King William's admirals, said that this lady was his mother, and that the letters were genuine. There is a mezzotint of Mrs. Sarah Chicheley, by Smith, from a painting by Kneller. Sir Thomas Chicheley (1618-1694) was Master-general of the Ordnance; the admiral was Sir John Chicheley, who died in 1691, leaving a son John.

[328]We are told that a son of Sir Thomas Chicheley, one of King William's admirals, said that this lady was his mother, and that the letters were genuine. There is a mezzotint of Mrs. Sarah Chicheley, by Smith, from a painting by Kneller. Sir Thomas Chicheley (1618-1694) was Master-general of the Ordnance; the admiral was Sir John Chicheley, who died in 1691, leaving a son John.

FromThursday, Dec. 8, toSaturday, Dec. 10, 1709.

As soon as my midnight studies are finished, I take but a very short repose, and am again up at an exercise of another kind; that is to say, my fencing. Thus my life passes away in a restless pursuit of fame,and a preparation to defend myself against such as attack it. This anxiety on the point of reputation is the peculiar distress of fine spirits, and makes them liable to a thousand inquietudes, from which men of grosser understandings are exempt; so that nothing is more common than to see one part of mankind live at perfect ease under such circumstances as would make another part of them entirely miserable.

This may serve for a preface to the history of poor Will Rosin, the fiddler of Wapping[329], who is a man as much made for happiness, and a quiet life, as any one breathing; but has been lately entangled in so many intricate and unreasonable distresses, as would have made him (had he been a man of too nice honour) the most wretched of all mortals. I came to the knowledge of his affairs by mere accident. Several of the narrow end of our lane having made an appointment to visit some friends beyond St. Katherine's[330], where there was to be a merry meeting, they would needs take with them the old gentleman, as they are pleased to call me. I, who value my company by their good-will, which naturally has the same effect as good-breeding, was not too stately, or too wise, to accept of the invitation. Our design was to be spectators of a sea-ball; to which I readily consented, provided I might beincognito, being naturally pleased with the survey of human life in all its degrees and circumstances.

In order to this merriment, Will Rosin (who is the Corelli[331]of the Wapping side, as Tom Scrape is the Bononcini[332]of Redriffe) was immediately sent for; but to our utter disappointment, poor Will was under an arrest, and desired the assistance of all his kind masters and mistresses, or he must go to gaol. The whole company received his message with great humanity, and very generously threw in their halfpence apiece in a great dish, which purchased his redemption out of the hands of the bailiffs. During the negotiation for his enlargement, I had an opportunity of acquainting myself with his history.

Mr. William Rosin, of the parish of St. Katherine, is somewhat stricken in years, and married to a young widow, who has very much the ascendant over him: this degenerate age being so perverted in all things, that even in the state of matrimony the young pretend to govern their elders. The musician is extremely fond of her; but is often obliged to lay by his fiddle to hear louder notes of hers, when she is pleased to be angry with him: for you are to know, Will is not of consequence enough to enjoy her conversation but when she chides him, or makes use of him to carry on her amours. For she is a woman of stratagem; and even in that part of the world where one would expect but very little gallantry, by the force of natural genius, she can be sullen, sick, out of humour, splenetic, want new clothes, and more money, as well as if she had been bred in Cheapside or Cornhill. She was lately under a secret discontent upon account of a lover she was like to lose by his marriage: for her gallant, Mr. Ezekiel Boniface, had been twice asked in church, in order to be joined in matrimony with Mrs. Winifred Dimple, spinster, of the same parish. Hereupon Mrs. Rosin was far gone in that distemper which well-governed husbands know by the description of, "I am I know not how;" and Will soon understood, that it was his part to inquire into the occasion of her melancholy, or suffer as the cause of it himself. After much importunity, all he could get out of her, was, that she was the most unhappy and the most wicked of all women, and had no friend in the world to tell her grief to. Upon this, Will doubled his importunities; but she said that she should break her poor heart, if he did not take a solemn oath upon a Book, that he would not be angry; and that he would expose the person who had wronged her to all the world, for the ease of her mind, which was no way else to be quieted. The fiddler was so melted, that he immediately kissed her, and afterwards the Book. When his oath was taken, she began to lament herself, and revealed to him, that (miserable woman as she was) she had been false to his bed. Will was glad to hear it was no worse; but before he could reply, "Nay," said she, "I will make you all the atonement I can, and take shame upon me by proclaiming it to all the world, which is the only thing that can remove my present terrors of mind." This was indeed too true; for her design was to prevent Mr. Boniface's marriage, which was all she apprehended. Will was thoroughly angry, and began to curse and swear, the ordinary expressions of passion in persons of his condition. Upon which his wife—"Ah William! how well you mind the oath you have taken, and the distress of your poor wife, who can keep nothing from you; I hope you won't be such a perjured wretchas to forswear yourself." The fiddler answered, that his oath obliged him only not to be angry at what was past; "but I find you intend to make me laughed at all over Wapping." "No, no," replied Mrs. Rosin, "I see well enough what you would be at, you poor-spirited cuckold—you are afraid to expose Boniface, who has abused your poor wife, and would fain persuade me still to suffer the stings of conscience; but I assure you, sirrah, I won't go to the devil for you." Poor Will was not made for contention, and beseeching her to be pacified, desired she would consult the good of her soul her own way, for he would not say her nay in anything.

Mrs. Rosin was so very loud and public in her invectives against Boniface, that the parents of his mistress forbade the banns, and his match was prevented, which was the whole design of this deep stratagem. The father of Boniface brought his action of defamation, arrested the fiddler, and recovered damages. This was the distress from which he was relieved by the company; and the good husband's air, history, and jollity, upon his enlargement, gave occasion to very much mirth; especially when Will, finding he had friends to stand by him, proclaimed himself a cuckold by way of insult over the family of the Bonifaces. Here is a man of tranquillity without reading Seneca! What work had such an incident made among persons of distinction? The brothers and kindred of each side must have been drawn out, and hereditary hatreds entailed on the families as long as their very names remained in the world. Who would believe that Herod, Othello, and Will Rosin were of the same species?

There are quite different sentiments which reign in the parlour and the kitchen; and it is by the point of honour, when justly regulated and inviolably observed, that some men are superior to others, as much as mankind in general are to brutes. This puts me in mind of a passage in the admirable poem called the "Dispensary,"[333]where the nature of true honour is artfully described in an ironical dispraise of it:

But e'er we once engage in honour's cause,First know what honour is, and whence it was.Scorned by the base, 'tis courted by the brave,The hero's tyrant, and the coward's slave.Born in the noisy camp, it lives on air;And both exists by hope and by despair.Angry whene'er a moment's ease we gain,And reconciled at our returns of pain.It lives when in death's arms the hero lies;But when his safety he consults, it dies.Bigoted to this idol, we disclaimRest, health, and ease, for nothing but a name.

A very old fellow visited me to-day at my lodgings, and desired encouragement and recommendation from me for a new invention of knockers to doors, which he told me he had made, and professed to teach rustic servants the use of them. I desired him to show me an experiment of this invention; upon which he fixed one of his knockers to my parlour door. He then gave me a complete set of knocks, from the solitary rap of the dun and beggar to the thunderings of the saucy footman of quality, with several flourishes and rattlings never yet performed. He likewise played over some private notes, distinguishing the familiar friend or relation from the most modish visitor; and directing when the reserve candles are to be lighted. He has several other curiosities in this art. He waits only to receive my approbation of the main design. He is now ready to practise to such as shall apply themselves to him; but I have put off his public licence till next court day.

N. B.—He teaches underground.

FOOTNOTES:[329]Sir John Hawkins ("History of Music," iv. 379) gives an account of the music-houses at Wapping, Shadwell, &c. Steele lived at Poplar at one time, and may then have made Rosin's acquaintance. See No. 23 of theMedley, where Steele tells a story of a ball at a music-house in Wapping, attended by colliers and sailors.[330]St. Katherine's-by-the-Tower stood close to the Thames; it was pulled down in 1825, when St. Katherine's Dock was constructed. The precinct or liberty of St. Katherine extended from the Tower to Ratcliff.[331]Archangelo Corelli, the famous violinist and composer, died at Rome in 1713.[332]Giovanni Bononcini, the youngest son of the musician Giovanni Maria Bononcini, was for some time a rival of Handel. The opera of "Camilla" was composed when he was eighteen.[333]By Sir Samuel Garth, 1699.

[329]Sir John Hawkins ("History of Music," iv. 379) gives an account of the music-houses at Wapping, Shadwell, &c. Steele lived at Poplar at one time, and may then have made Rosin's acquaintance. See No. 23 of theMedley, where Steele tells a story of a ball at a music-house in Wapping, attended by colliers and sailors.

[330]St. Katherine's-by-the-Tower stood close to the Thames; it was pulled down in 1825, when St. Katherine's Dock was constructed. The precinct or liberty of St. Katherine extended from the Tower to Ratcliff.

[331]Archangelo Corelli, the famous violinist and composer, died at Rome in 1713.

[332]Giovanni Bononcini, the youngest son of the musician Giovanni Maria Bononcini, was for some time a rival of Handel. The opera of "Camilla" was composed when he was eighteen.

[333]By Sir Samuel Garth, 1699.

FromSaturday, Dec. 10, toTuesday, Dec. 13, 1709.

Invenies dissecti membra poetæ.

Hor., 1 Sat. iv. 62.[334]

I was this evening sitting at the side-table, and reading one of my own papers with great satisfaction, not knowing that I was observed by any in the room. I had not long enjoyed this secret pleasure of an author, when a gentleman, some of whose works I have been highly entertained with,[335]accosted me after the following manner: "Mr. Bickerstaff, you know I have for some years devoted myself wholly to the Muses, and perhaps you will be surprised when I tell you I am resolved to take up and apply myself to business: I shall therefore beg you will stand my friend, and recommend a customer to me for several goods that I have now upon my hands." I desired him to let me have a particular, and I would do my utmost to serve him. "I have first of all," says he, "the progress of an amour digested into sonnets, beginning with a poem to the unknown fair, and ending with an epithalamium. I have celebrated in it, her cruelty, her pity, her face, her shape, her wit, her good-humour, her dancing, her singing—" I could not forbear interrupting him: "This is a most accomplished lady," said I; "but has she really, with all these perfections, a fine voice?" "Pugh," says he, "you do not believe there is such a person in nature. This was only my employment in solitude last summer, when I had neither friends nor books to divert me." "I was going," says I, "to ask her name, but I find it is only an imaginary mistress." "That's true," replied my friend, "but her name is Flavia. I have," continued he, "in the second place, a collection of lampoons, calculated either for the Bath, Tunbridge, or any place where they drink waters, with blank spaces for the names of such person or persons as may be inserted in them on occasion. Thus much I have told only of what I have by me proceeding from love and malice. I have also at this time the sketch of an heroic poem upon the next peace:[336]several indeed of the verses are either too long or too short, it being a rough draught of my thoughts upon that subject." I thereupon told him, that as it was, it might probably pass for a very good Pindaric, and I believed I knew one who would be willing to deal with him for it upon that foot. "I must tell you also, I have made a dedication to it, which is about four sides close written, that may serve any one that is tall, and understands Latin. I have further, about fifty similes that were never yet applied, besides three-and-twenty descriptions of the sun rising, that might be of great use to an epic poet. These are my more bulky commodities: besides which, I have several small-wares that I would part with at easy rates; as, observations upon life, and moral sentences, reduced into several couplets, very proper to close up acts of plays, and may be easily introduced by two or three lines of prose, either in tragedy or comedy. If I could find a purchaser curious in Latin poetry, I could accommodate him with two dozen of epigrams, which, by reason of a few false quantities, should come for little or nothing."

I heard the gentleman with much attention, and asked him, whether he would break bulk, and sell his goods by retail, or designed they should all go in a lump? He told me, that he should be very loth to part them, unless it was to oblige a man of quality, or any person for whom I had a particular friendship. "My reason for asking," said I, "is, only because I know a young gentleman who intends to appear next spring in a new jingling chariot, with the figures of the nine Muses on each side of it; and I believe, would be glad to come into the world in verse." We could not go on in our treaty, by reason of two or three critics that joined us. They had been talking, it seems, of the two letters which were found in the coffin, and mentioned in one of my late lucubrations,[337]and came with a request to me, that I would communicate any others of them that were legible. One of the gentlemen was pleased to say, that it was a very proper instance of a widow's constancy; and said, he wished I had subjoined, as a foil to it, the following passage in "Hamlet." The young Prince was not yet acquainted with all the guilt of his mother, but turns his thoughts on her sudden forgetfulness of his father, and the indecency of her hasty marriage.

----That it should come to this!But two months dead! Nay, not so much, not two!So excellent a king! that was to thisHyperion to a satyr! So loving to my mother,That he permitted not the winds of heavenTo visit her face too roughly! Heaven and earth!Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,As if increase of appetite had grownBy what it fed on. And yet, within a month!Let me not think on't—Frailty, thy name is woman!A little month! or ere those shoes were old,With which she followed my poor father's body,Like Niobe all tears; why she, even she—O Heaven! a brute, that wants discourse of reason,Would have mourned longer!—married with mine uncle,My father's brother! But no more like my fatherThan I to Hercules! Within a month!Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tearsHad left the flushing of her galled eyes,She married—O most wicked speed! to postWith such dexterity to incestuous sheets!It is not, nor it cannot come to good!But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue![338]

The several emotions of mind, and breaks of passion, in this speech, are admirable. He has touched every circumstance that aggravated the fact, and seemed capable of hurrying the thoughts of a son into distraction. His father's tenderness for his mother, expressed in so delicate a particular; his mother's fondness for his father, no less exquisitely described; the great and amiable figure of his dead parent drawn by a true filial piety; his disdain of so unworthy a successor to his bed; but above all, the shortness of the time between his father's death and his mother's second marriage, brought together with so much disorder, make up as noble a part as any in that celebrated tragedy. The circumstance of time I never could enough admire. The widowhood had lasted two months—this is his first reflection: but as his indignation rises, he sinks to scarce two months: afterwards into a month; and at last, into a little month. But all this so naturally, that the reader accompanies him in the violence of his passion, and finds the time lessen insensibly, according to the different workings of his disdain. I have not mentioned the incest of her marriage, which is so obvious a provocation; but cannot forbear taking notice, that when his fury is at its height, he cries, "Frailty, thy name is woman!" as railing at the sex in general, rather than giving himself leave to think his mother worse than others.—Desiderantur multa.

Whereas Mr. Jeffery Groggram has surrendered himself by his letter bearing date December 7, and has sent an acknowledgment that he is dead, praying an order to the Company of Upholders for interment at such a reasonable rate as may not impoverish his heirs: the said Groggram having been dead ever since he was born, and added nothing to his small patrimony, Mr. Bickerstaff has taken the premises into consideration; and being sensible of the ingenuous and singular behaviour of this petitioner, pronounces the said Jeffery Groggram a live man, and will not suffer that he should bury himself out of modesty; but requires him to remain among the living, as an example to those obstinate dead men, who will neither labour for life, nor go to their grave.

N. B.—Mr. Groggram is the first person that has come in upon Mr. Bickerstaff's dead warrant.

Florinda demands by her letter of this day to be allowed to pass for a living woman, having danced the Derbyshire hornpipe in the presence of several friends on Saturday last.

Granted; provided she can bring proof, that she can make a pudding on the 24th instant.

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