FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[68]Lord Hinchinbroke; see Nos. 5, 22, 35.[69]Captain Bluffe, in Congreve's "Old Bachelor," act ii. sc. 2: "Faith, Hannibal was a very pretty fellow; but, Sir Joseph, comparisons are odious; Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days, it must be granted; but, alas, sir, were he alive now, he would be nothing, nothing in the earth."[70]He was really 27 at this time. Steele seems to have based this article on a translation of Valerius Maximus. Florus says that Scipio declined to see the lady; Livy's account is in his twenty-sixth book, chap. 50.[71]"Though we have men of intelligence that have spoken of the proposals of peace and conferences which have been held at Tournay, there are no certain advices of any such treaty. We" (folio).

[68]Lord Hinchinbroke; see Nos. 5, 22, 35.

[69]Captain Bluffe, in Congreve's "Old Bachelor," act ii. sc. 2: "Faith, Hannibal was a very pretty fellow; but, Sir Joseph, comparisons are odious; Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days, it must be granted; but, alas, sir, were he alive now, he would be nothing, nothing in the earth."

[70]He was really 27 at this time. Steele seems to have based this article on a translation of Valerius Maximus. Florus says that Scipio declined to see the lady; Livy's account is in his twenty-sixth book, chap. 50.

[71]"Though we have men of intelligence that have spoken of the proposals of peace and conferences which have been held at Tournay, there are no certain advices of any such treaty. We" (folio).

FromTuesday, August 23, toThursday, August 25, 1709.

Æsop has gained to himself an immortal renown for figuring the manners, desires, passions, and interests of men, by fables of beasts and birds: I shall in my future accounts of our modern heroes and wits, vulgarly called "sharpers," imitate the method of that delightful moralist; and think, I cannot represent those worthies more naturally than under the shadow of a pack of dogs; for this set of men are like them, made up of finders, lurchers, and setters. Some search for the prey, others pursue others take it; and if it be worth it, they all come in at the death, and worry the carcass. It would require a most exact knowledge of the field, and the harbours where the deer lie, to recount all the revolutions in the chase: but I am diverted from the train of my discourse of the fraternity about this town by letters from Hampstead, which give me an account, there is a late institution there, under the name of a raffling-shop, which is, it seems, secretly supported by a person who is a deep practitioner in the law, and, out of tenderness of conscience, has, under the name of his maid Sisly, set up this easier way of conveyancing and alienating estates from one family to another. He is so far from having an intelligence with the rest of the fraternity, that all the humbler cheats who appear there, are faced by the partners in the bank, and driven off by the reflection of superior brass. This notice is given to all the silly faces that pass that way, that they may not be decoyed in by the soft allurement of a fine lady, who is the sign tothe pageantry. And at the same time Signior Hawksly, who is the patron of the household, is desired to leave off this interloping trade, or admit, as he ought to do, the knights of the industry to their share in the spoil. But this little matter is only by way of digression. Therefore to return to our worthies: the present race of terriers and hounds would starve, were it not for the enchanted Actæon, who has kept the whole pack for many successions of hunting seasons. Actæon has long tracts of rich soil; but had the misfortune in his youth to fall under the power of sorcery, and has been ever since, some parts of the year, a deer, and in some parts a man. While he is a man (such is the force of magic), he no sooner grows to such a bulk and fatness, but he is again turned into a deer, and hunted till he is lean; upon which he returns to his human shape. Many arts have been tried, and many resolutions taken by Actæon himself, to follow such methods as would break the enchantment; but all have hitherto proved ineffectual. I have therefore, by midnight watchings and much care, found out, that there is no way to save him from the jaws of his hounds, but to destroy the pack, which, by astrological prescience, I find I am destined to perform. For which end I have sent out my familiar, to bring me a list of all the places where they are harboured, that I may know where to sound my horn, and bring them together, and take an account of their haunts and their marks, against another opportunity.

The author of the ensuing letter, by his name, and the quotations he makes from the ancients, seems a sort of spy from the old world, whom we moderns ought to be careful of offending; therefore I must be free, and ownit a fair hit where he takes me, rather than disoblige him.[72]

"Sir,"Having a peculiar humour of desiring to be somewhat the better or wiser for what I read, I am always uneasy when, in any profound writer (for I read no others), I happen to meet with what I cannot understand. When this falls out, it is a great grievance to me that I am not able to consult the author himself about his meaning; for commentators are a sect that has little share in my esteem. Your elaborate writings have, among many others, this advantage, that their author is still alive, and ready (as his extensive charity makes us expect) to explain whatever may be found in them too sublime for vulgar understandings. This, sir, makes me presume to ask you, how the Hampstead hero's[73]character could be perfectly new when the last letters came away, and yet Sir John Suckling so well acquainted with it sixty years ago? I hope, sir, you will not take this amiss: I can assure you, I have a profound respect for you; which makes me write this, with the same disposition with which Longinus bids us read Homer and Plato. 'When in reading,' says he, 'any of those celebrated authors, we meet with a passage to which we cannot well reconcile our reasons, we ought firmly to believe, that were those great wits present to answer for themselves, we should to our wonder be convinced, that we only are guilty of the mistakes we before attributed to them.' If you think fit to remove the scruple that now torments me, it will be an encouragement to me to settlea frequent correspondence with you, several things falling in my way which would not, perhaps, be altogether foreign to your purpose, and whereon your thoughts would be very acceptable to"Your most humble Servant,Obadiah Greenhat."

"Sir,

"Having a peculiar humour of desiring to be somewhat the better or wiser for what I read, I am always uneasy when, in any profound writer (for I read no others), I happen to meet with what I cannot understand. When this falls out, it is a great grievance to me that I am not able to consult the author himself about his meaning; for commentators are a sect that has little share in my esteem. Your elaborate writings have, among many others, this advantage, that their author is still alive, and ready (as his extensive charity makes us expect) to explain whatever may be found in them too sublime for vulgar understandings. This, sir, makes me presume to ask you, how the Hampstead hero's[73]character could be perfectly new when the last letters came away, and yet Sir John Suckling so well acquainted with it sixty years ago? I hope, sir, you will not take this amiss: I can assure you, I have a profound respect for you; which makes me write this, with the same disposition with which Longinus bids us read Homer and Plato. 'When in reading,' says he, 'any of those celebrated authors, we meet with a passage to which we cannot well reconcile our reasons, we ought firmly to believe, that were those great wits present to answer for themselves, we should to our wonder be convinced, that we only are guilty of the mistakes we before attributed to them.' If you think fit to remove the scruple that now torments me, it will be an encouragement to me to settlea frequent correspondence with you, several things falling in my way which would not, perhaps, be altogether foreign to your purpose, and whereon your thoughts would be very acceptable to

"Your most humble Servant,

Obadiah Greenhat."

I own this is clean, and Mr. Greenhat has convinced me that I have writ nonsense; yet am I not at all offended at him.

Scimus, et hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim.[74]

This is the true art of raillery, when a man turns another into ridicule, and shows at the same time he is in good humour, and not urged by malice against the person he rallies. Obadiah Greenhat has hit this very well: for to make an apology to Isaac Bickerstaff, an unknown student and horary historian, as well as astrologer, and with a grave face to say, he speaks of him by the same rules with which he would treat Homer or Plato, is to place him in company where he cannot expect to make a figure; and makes him flatter himself, that it is only being named with them which renders him most ridiculous. I have not known, and I am now past my grand climacteric, being sixty-four years of age, according to my way of life, or rather (if you will allow punning in an old gentleman) according to my way of pastime; I say, old as I am, I have not been acquainted with many of the Greenhats. There is indeed one Zedekiah Greenhat, who is lucky also in his way. He has a very agreeable manner; for when he has a mind thoroughly to correct a man, he never takes from him anything, but he allows him something for it; or else, he blames him for things wherein he is not defective, as well as for matters wherein he is. This makes a weak man believe he is in jest in the whole. The other day he told Beau Prim, who is thought impotent, that his mistress had declared she would not have him, because he was a sloven, and had committed a rape. The beau bit at the banter, and said very gravely, he thought to be clean was as much as was necessary; and that as to the rape, he wondered by what witchcraft that should come to her ears; but it had indeed cost him a hundred pounds to hush the affair. The Greenhats are a family with small voices and short arms, therefore they have power with none but their friends: they never call after those who run away from them, or pretend to take hold of you if you resist. But it has been remarkable, that all who have shunned their company, or not listened to them, have fallen into the hands of such as have knocked out their own brains, or broken their bones. I have looked over our pedigree upon the receipt of this epistle, and find the Greenhats are akin to the Staffs. They descend from Maudlin, the left-handed wife of Nehemiah Bickerstaff, in the reign of Harry II. And it is remarkable, that they are all left-handed, and have always been very expert at single rapier. A man must be very much used to their play to know how to defend himself; for their posture is so different from that of the right-handed, that you run upon their swords if you push forward; and they are in with you, if you offer to fall back without keeping your guard. There have been other letters lately sent to me which relate to other people: among others, some whom I have heretofore declared to be so, are deceased. I must not therefore break through rules so far, as to speak ill of the dead. This maxim extends to all but the late Partridge, who still denies his death. I am informed indeed by several, that he walks; but I shall with all convenient speed lay him.

We hear from Tournay, that on the night between the 22nd and 23rd, they went on with their works in the enemy's mines, and levelled the earth which was taken out of them. The next day, at eight in the morning, when the French observed we were relieving our trenches, they sprung a larger mine than any they had fired during this siege, which killed only four private sentinels. The ensuing night, we had three men and two officers killed, as also seven men wounded. Between the 24th and 25th, we repaired some works, which the enemy had ruined. On the next day, some of the enemy's magazines blew up; and it is thought they were destroyed on purpose by some of their men, who are impatient of the hardships of the present service. There happened nothing remarkable for two or three days following. A deserter, who came out of the citadel on the 27th, says, the garrison is brought to the utmost necessity; that their bread and water are both very bad; and that they were reduced to eat horse-flesh. The manner of fighting in this siege has discovered a gallantry in our men unknown to former ages; their meeting with adverse parties underground, where every step is taken with apprehensions of being blown up with mines below them, or crushed by the fall of the earth above them, and all this acted in darkness, has something in it more terrible than ever is met with in any other part of a soldier's duty. However, this is performed with great cheerfulness. In other parts of the war we have also good prospects: Count Thaun has taken Annecy, and the Count de Merci marched into Franche Comté, while his Electoral Highness is much superior in number to Monsieur d'Harcourt; so that both on the side of Savoy and Germany, we have reason to expect very suddenly some great event.

FOOTNOTES:[72]This letter was by Swift, and is printed in Scott's edition of his works. The remainder of the article may be by either Swift or Addison.[73]See No. 57.[74]Horace, "Ars Poetica,"II.

[72]This letter was by Swift, and is printed in Scott's edition of his works. The remainder of the article may be by either Swift or Addison.

[73]See No. 57.

[74]Horace, "Ars Poetica,"II.

FromThursday, August 25, toSaturday, August 27, 1709.

To proceed regularly in the history of my worthies, I ought to give you an account of what has passed from day to day in this place; but a young fellow of my acquaintance has so lately been rescued out of the hands of the knights of the industry, that I rather choose to relate the manner of his escape from them, and the uncommon way which was used to reclaim him, than to go on in my intended diary. You are to know then, that Tom Wildair is a student of the Inner Temple, and has spent his time, since he left the university for that place, in the common diversions of men of fashion; that is to say, in whoring, drinking, and gaming. The two former vices he had from his father; but was led into the last by the conversation of a partisan of the Myrmidons, who had chambers near him. His allowance from his father was a very plentiful one for a man of sense, but as scanty for a modern fine gentleman. His frequent losses had reduced him to so necessitous a condition, that his lodgings were always haunted by impatient creditors, and all his thoughts employed in contriving low methods to support himself, in a way of life from which he knew not how to retreat, and in which he wanted means to proceed. There is never wanting some good-natured person to send a man an account of what he has no mind to hear; therefore many epistles were conveyed to the father of this extravagant, to inform him of the company, the pleasures, the distresses, and entertainments, in which his son passed his time. The old fellow received these advices with all the pain of a parent, but frequently consulted his pillow to know how to behave himself on such important occasions, as the welfare of his son, and the safety of his fortune. After many agitations of mind, he reflected, that necessity was the usual snare which made men fall into meanness, and that a liberal fortune generally made a liberal and honest mind; he resolved therefore to save him from his ruin, by giving him opportunities of tasting what it is to be at ease, and enclosed to him the following order upon Sir Tristram Cash:[76]

"Sir,"Pray pay to Mr. Tho. Wildair, or order, the sum of one thousand pounds, and place it to the account of,"Yours,Humphrey Wildair."

"Sir,

"Pray pay to Mr. Tho. Wildair, or order, the sum of one thousand pounds, and place it to the account of,

"Yours,

Humphrey Wildair."

Tom was so astonished at the receipt of this order, that though he knew it to be his father's hand, and that he had always large sums at Sir Tristram's; yet a thousand pounds was a trust of which his conduct had always made him appear so little capable, that he kept his note by him, till he writ to his father the following letter:

"Honoured Father,"I have received an order under your hand for a thousand pounds, in words at length, and I think I could swear it is your hand. I have looked it over and over twenty thousand times. There is in plain letters,T,H,O,U,S,A,N,D,: and after it, the lettersP,O,U,N,D,S. I have it still by me, and shall, I believe, continue reading it till I hear from you."

"Honoured Father,

"I have received an order under your hand for a thousand pounds, in words at length, and I think I could swear it is your hand. I have looked it over and over twenty thousand times. There is in plain letters,T,H,O,U,S,A,N,D,: and after it, the lettersP,O,U,N,D,S. I have it still by me, and shall, I believe, continue reading it till I hear from you."

The old gentleman took no manner of notice of the receipt of his letter; but sent him another order for three thousand pounds more. His amazement on this second letter was unspeakable. He immediately double-locked his door, and sat down carefully to reading and comparing both his orders. After he had read them till he was half mad, he walked six or seven turns in his chamber, then opens his door, then locks it again; and to examine thoroughly this matter, he locks his door again, puts his table and chairs against it; then goes into his closet, and locking himself in, read his notes over again about nineteen times, which did but increase his astonishment. Soon after, he began to recollect many stories he had formerly heard of persons who had been possessed with imaginations and appearances which had no foundation in nature, but had been taken with sudden madness in the midst of a seeming clear and untainted reason. This made him very gravely conclude he was out of his wits; and with a design to compose himself, he immediately betakes him to his nightcap, with a resolution to sleep himself into his former poverty and senses. To bed therefore he goes at noonday, but soon rose again, and resolved to visit Sir Tristram upon this occasion. He did so, and dined with the knight, expecting he would mention some advice from his father about paying him money; but no such thing being said, "Look you, Sir Tristram," said he, "you are to know, that an affair has happened, which——" "Look you," says Tristram, "I know, Mr. Wildair, you are going to desire me to advance; but the late call of the bank, where I have not yet made my last payment, has obliged me——" Tominterrupted him, by showing him the bill of a thousand pounds. When he had looked at it for a convenient time, and as often surveyed Tom's looks and countenance; "Look you, Mr. Wildair, a thousand pounds——" Before he could proceed, he shows him the order for three thousand more. Sir Tristram examined the orders at the light, and finding at the writing the name, there was a certain stroke in one letter, which the father and he had agreed should be to such directions as he desired might be more immediately honoured, he forthwith pays the money. The possession of four thousand pounds gave my young gentleman a new train of thoughts: he began to reflect upon his birth, the great expectations he was born to, and the unsuitable ways he had long pursued. Instead of that unthinking creature he was before, he is now provident, generous, and discreet. The father and son have an exact and regular correspondence, with mutual and unreserved confidence in each other. The son looks upon his father as the best tenant he could have in the country, and the father finds the son the most safe banker he could have in the City.

There is not anything in nature so extravagant, but that you will find one man or other that shall practise or maintain it; otherwise, Harry Spondee could not have made so long an harangue as he did here this evening concerning the force and efficacy of well-applied nonsense. Among ladies, he positively averred, it was the most prevailing part of eloquence; and had so little complaisance as to say, a woman is never taken by her reason, but always by her passion. He proceeded to assert, the way to move that, was only to astonish her. "I know," continued he, "a very late instance of this; for being byaccident in the next room to Strephon, I could not help overhearing him as he made love to a certain great lady's woman. The true method in your application to one of this second rank of understanding, is not to elevate and surprise, but rather to elevate and amaze. Strephon is a perfect master in this kind of persuasion: his way is, to run over with a soft air a multitude of words, without meaning or connection, but such as do each of them apart give a pleasing idea, though they have nothing to do with each other as he assembles them. After the common phrases of salutation, and making his entry into the room, I perceived he had taken the fair nymph's hand, and kissing it, said, 'Witness to my happiness ye groves! Be still ye rivulets! Oh! woods, caves, fountains, trees, dales, mountains, hills, and streams! Oh! fairest, could you love me?' To which I overheard her answer, with a very pretty lisp, 'Oh! Strephon, you are a dangerous creature: why do you talk these tender things to me? But you men of wit——' 'Is it then possible,' said the enamoured Strephon, 'that she regards my sorrows? Oh! Pity, thou balmy cure to an heart overloaded. If rapture, solicitation, soft desire, and pleasing anxiety——But still I live in the most afflicting of all circumstances, doubt——Cannot my charmer name the place and moment?

There all those joys insatiably to prove,With which rich beauty feeds the glutton love.

Forgive me, madam, it is not that my heart is weary of its chain, but——' This incoherent stuff was answered by a tender sigh, 'Why do you put your wit to a weak woman?' Strephon saw he had made some progress in her heart, and pursued it, by saying that he would certainly wait upon her at such an hour near Rosamond'sPond;[77]and then——The sylvian deities, and rural powers of the place, sacred and inviolable to love; love, the mover of all noble hearts, should hear his vows repeated by the streams and echoes. The assignation was accordingly made." This style he calls the unintelligible method of speaking his mind; and I'll engage, had this gallant spoken plain English, she had never understood him half so readily: for we may take it for granted, that he'll be esteemed as a very cold lover, who discovers to his mistress that he is in his senses.

The following letter came to my hand, with a request to have the subject recommended to our readers, particularly the smart fellows, who are desired to repair to Major Touchhole,[78]who can help them to firelocks that are only fit for exercise.

"Mars Triumphant, or, London's Glory: being the whole art of Encampment, with the method of embattling Armies, marching them off, posting the Officers, forming Hollow Squares, and the various Ways of paying the Salute with the Halfpike; as it was performed by the Trained-bands of London this year One thousand seven hundred and nine, in that Nursery of Bellona the Artillery-ground.[79]Wherein you have a new method how to form a strong line of foot, with large intervals between each platoon, very useful to prevent the breaking in of horse. A civil way of performing the military ceremony; wherein the major alights from his horse, and at the head of his company salutes the lieutenant-colonel; and the lieutenant-colonel, to return the compliment, courteously dismounts, and after the same manner salutes his major: exactly as it was performed, with abundance of applause, on the 5th of July last. Likewise an account of a new invention made use of in the Red Regiment to quell mutineering captains; with several other things alike useful for the public. To which is added, An Appendix by Major Touchhole; proving the method of discipline now used in our armies to be very defective. With an essay towards an amendment. Dedicated to the Lieutenant-Colonel of the First Regiment."

Mr. Bickerstaff has now in the press, "A Defence of awkward Fellows against the Class of the Smarts: with a Dissertation upon the Gravity which becomes weighty Persons. Illustrated by way of Fable, and a Discourse on the Nature of the Elephant, the Cow, the Dray-horse, and the Dromedary, which have motions equally steady and grave. To this is added, a Treatise written by an Elephant (according to Pliny) against receiving Foreigners into the Forest. Adapted to some present Circumstances. Together with Allusions to such Beasts as declare against the poor Palatines."

FOOTNOTES:[75]See No. 56.[76]See No. 57.[77]This "lake of love" (No. 170) was a sheet of water in the south-west corner of St. James's Park, "long consecrated," as Warburton says, "to disastrous love and elegiac poetry." It is frequently mentioned in plays of the time as a place of assignation. See Pope's "Rape of the Lock":"This the blest lover shall for Venus take,And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake."The anxious father of an heiress, who had given him the slip, says (Spectator, No. 311), "After an hour's search she returned of herself, having been taking a walk, as she told me, by Rosamond's Pond." The pond was filled up in 1770.[78]Said to be a Mr. Gregory, of Thames Street, a train-band major. See also No. 265.[79]See Nos. 28, 41.

[75]See No. 56.

[76]See No. 57.

[77]This "lake of love" (No. 170) was a sheet of water in the south-west corner of St. James's Park, "long consecrated," as Warburton says, "to disastrous love and elegiac poetry." It is frequently mentioned in plays of the time as a place of assignation. See Pope's "Rape of the Lock":"This the blest lover shall for Venus take,And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake."The anxious father of an heiress, who had given him the slip, says (Spectator, No. 311), "After an hour's search she returned of herself, having been taking a walk, as she told me, by Rosamond's Pond." The pond was filled up in 1770.

"This the blest lover shall for Venus take,And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake."

The anxious father of an heiress, who had given him the slip, says (Spectator, No. 311), "After an hour's search she returned of herself, having been taking a walk, as she told me, by Rosamond's Pond." The pond was filled up in 1770.

[78]Said to be a Mr. Gregory, of Thames Street, a train-band major. See also No. 265.

[79]See Nos. 28, 41.

FromSaturday, August 27, toTuesday, August 30, 1709.

Among many phrases which have crept into conversation, especially of such company as frequent this place, there is not one which misleads me more, than that of a fellow of a great deal of fire. This metaphorical term, "fire," has done much good in keeping coxcombs in awe of one another; but at the same time it has made them troublesome to everybody else. You see in the very air of a fellow of fire, something so expressive of what he would be at, that if it were not for self-preservation, a man would laugh out. I had last night the fate to drink a bottle with two of these firemen, who are indeed dispersed like the myrmidons[80]in all quarters, and to be met with among those of the most different education. One of my companions was a scholar with fire; the other a soldier of the same complexion. My learned man would fall into disputes, and argue without any manner of provocation or contradiction: the other was decisive without words, and would give a shrug or an oath to express his opinion. My learned man was a mere scholar, and my man of war as mere a soldier. The particularity of the first was ridiculous; that of the second, terrible. They were relations by blood, which in some measure moderated their extravagances towards each other: I gave myself up merely as a person of no note in the company, but as if brought to be convinced, that I was an inconsiderable thing, any otherwise than that they would show each other to me, and make me spectator of the triumph they alternately enjoyed. The scholar has been very conversant with books, and the other with men only; which makes them both superficial: for the taste of books is necessary to our behaviour in the best company, and the knowledge of men is required for a true relish of books: but they have both fire, which makes one pass for a man of sense, and the other for a fine gentleman. I found I could easily enough pass my time with the scholar; for if I seemed not to do justice to his parts and sentiments, he pitied me, and let me alone. But the warrior could not let it rest there; I must know all that happened within his shallow observations of the nature of the war: to all which he added, an air of laziness, and contempt of those of his companions who were eminent for delighting in the exercise and knowledge of their duty. Thus it is, that all the young fellows of much animal life, and little understanding, that repair to our armies, usurp upon the conversation of reasonable men, under the notion of having fire. The word has not been of greater use to shallow lovers, to supply them with chat to their mistresses, than it has been to pretended men of pleasure to support them in being pert and dull, and saying of every fool of their order, "Such a one has fire." There is a Colonel Truncheon, who marches with divisions ready on all occasions; a hero who never doubted in his life, but is ever positively fixed in the wrong, not out of obstinate opinion, but invincible stupidity. It is very unhappy for this latitude of London, that it is possible for such as can learn only fashion, habit, and a set of common phrases of salutation, to pass with no other accomplishments in this nation of freedom for men of conversation and sense. All these ought to pretend to, is, not to offend; but they carry it so far, as to be negligent, whether they offend or not;for they have fire. But their force differs from true spirit, as much as a vicious from a mettlesome horse. A man of fire is a general enemy to all the waiters where you drink, is the only man affronted at the company's being neglected, and makes the drawers abroad, hisvalet-de-chambreand footman at home, know, he is not to be provoked without danger. This is not the fire that animates the noble Marinus,[81]a youth of good nature, affability, and moderation. He commands his ship, as an intelligence moves its orb; he is the vital life, and his officers the limbs of the machine. His vivacity is seen in doing all the offices of life with readiness of spirit, and propriety in the manner of doing them. To be ever active in laudable pursuits, is the distinguishing character of a man of merit; while the common behaviour of every gay coxcomb of fire is to be confidently in the wrong, and dare to persist in it.

It is a common objection against writings of a satirical mixture, that they hurt men in their reputations, and consequently in their fortunes and possessions; but a gentleman who frequents this room declared, he was of opinion it ought to be so, provided such performances had their proper restrictions. The greatest evils in human society are such as no law can come at; as in the case of ingratitude, where the manner of obliging very often leaves the benefactor without means of demanding justice, though that very circumstance should be the more binding to the person who has received the benefit. On such an occasion, shall it be possible for the malefactor to escape?

And is it not lawful to set marks upon persons who live within the law, and do base things? Shall not we use the same protection of those laws to punish them, which they have to defend themselves? We shall therefore take it for a very moral action to find a good appellation for offenders, and to turn them into ridicule under feigned names. I am advertised by a letter of August the 25th, that the name of Coppersmith[82]has very much wanted explanation in the city, and by that means unjustly given, by those who are conscious they deserve it themselves, to an honest and worthy citizen[83]—belonging to the Copper Office; but that word is framed out of a moral consideration of wealth amongst men, whereby he that has gotten any part of it by injustice and extortion, is to be thought in the eye of virtuous men so much the poorer for such gain. Thus all the gold which is torn from our neighbours, by making advantage of their wants, is copper; and I authorise the Lombards to distinguish themselves accordingly. All the honest, who make a reasonable profit, both for the advantage of themselves and those they deal with, are goldsmiths; but those who tear unjustly all they can, coppersmiths. At the same time I desire him who is most guilty, to sit down satisfied with riches and contempt, and be known by the title of the Coppersmith; as being the chief of that respected, contemptible fraternity.

This is the case of all others mentioned in our lucubrations, particularly of Stentor,[84]who goes on in his vociferations at St. Paul's with so much obstinacy, that he has received admonition from St. Peter's for it from a person of eminent wit and piety;[85]but who is by old age reduced to the infirmity of sleeping at a service, to which he had been fifty years attentive, and whose death, whenever it happens, may, with that of the saints, well be called, falling asleep; for the innocence of his life makes him expect it as indifferently as he does his ordinary rest. This gives him a cheerfulness of spirit to rally his own weakness, and hath made him write to Stentor to hearken to my admonitions. "Brother Stentor," said he, "for the repose of the church, hearken to Bickerstaff, and consider, that while you are so devout at St. Paul's, we cannot sleep for you at St. Peter's."

There has been lately sent me a much harder question than was ever yet put to me since I professed astrology; to wit, how far, and to what age, women ought to make their beauty their chief concern? The regard and care of their faces and persons are as variously to be considered, as their complexions themselves differ; but if one may transgress against the careful practice of the fair sex so much as to give an opinion against it, I humbly presume, that less care, better applied, would increase their empire, and make it last as long as life. Whereas now, from their own example, we take our esteem of their merit; for it is very just, that she who values herself only on her beauty, should be regarded by others on no other consideration. There is certainly a liberal and pedantic education among women as well as men, and the merit lasts accordingly. She therefore that is bred with freedom, and in good company, considers men according to their respective characters and distinctions; while she that is locked up from such observations, will consider her father's butler not as a butler, but as a man. In like manner, when men converse with women, the well-bred and intelligent are looked upon with an observation suitable to their different talents and accomplishments, without respect to their sex; while a mere woman can be observed under no consideration but that of a woman; and there can be but one reason for placing any value upon her, or losing time in her company. Wherefore I am of opinion, that the rule for pleasing long, is, to obtain such qualifications as would make them so were they not women. Let the beauteous Cleomira then show us her real face, and know, that every stage of life has its peculiar charms, and that there is no necessity for fifty to be fifteen: that childish colouring of her cheeks is as ungraceful, as that shape would have been when her face wore its real countenance. She has sense, and ought to know, that if she will not follow nature, nature will follow her. Time then has made that person, which had (when I visited her grandfather) an agreeable bloom, sprightly air, and soft utterance, now no less grateful in a lovely aspect, an awful manner, and maternal wisdom. But her heart was so set upon her first character, that she neglects and repines at her present; not that she is against a more staid conduct in others, for she recommends gravity, circumspection, and severity of countenance, to her daughter. Thus,against all chronology, the girl is the sage, the mother the fine lady. But these great evils proceed from an unaccountable wild method in the education of the better half of the world, the women. We have no such thing as a standard for good breeding. I was the other day at my Lady Wealthy's, and asked one of her daughters, how she did? She answered, she never conversed with men. The same day I visited at Lady Plantwell's, and asked her daughter the same question. She answers, "What's that to you, you old thief?" and gives me a slap on the shoulders. I defy any man in England, except he knows the family before he enters, to be able to judge whether he shall be agreeable or not, when he comes into it. You find either some odd old woman, who is permitted to rule as long as she lives, in hopes of her death, and to interrupt all things; or some impertinent young woman, who will talk sillily upon the strength of looking beautifully. I will not answer for it, but that it may be, that I (like all other old fellows) have a fondness for the fashions and manners which prevailed when I was young and in fashion myself: but certain it is, that the taste of grace and beauty is very much lowered! The fine women they show me nowadays, are at best but pretty girls to me, who have seen Sacharissa,[86]when all the world repeated the poems she inspired; and Villaria,[87]when a youthful king was her subject. The things you follow and make songs on now, should be sent to knit, or sit down to bobbing or bone-lace: they are indeed neat, and so are their sempstresses; they are pretty, and so are their handmaids. But that graceful motion, that awful mien, and that winning attraction, which grew upon them from the thoughts and conversations they met with in my time, are now no more seen. They tell me I am old: I am glad I am so; for I don't like your present young ladies. Those among us who do set up for anything of decorum, do so mistake the matter, that they offend on the other side. Five young ladies who are of no small fame for their great severity of manners and exemplary behaviour, would lately go nowhere with their lovers but to an organ-loft in a church, where they had a cold treat, and some few opera songs, to their great refreshment and edification. Whether these prudent persons had not been as much so if this had been done at a tavern, is not very hard to determine. It is such silly starts and incoherences which undervalue the beauteous sex, and puzzle us in our choice of sweetness of temper and simplicity of manners, which are the only lasting charms of woman. But I must leave this important subject at present, for some matters which press for publication; as you will observe in the following letter:

"Dear Sir,"It is natural for distant relations to claim kindred with a rising family; though at this time, zeal to my country, not interest, calls me out. The City forces[88]being shortly to take the field, all good Protestants would be pleased that their arms and valour should shine with equal lustre. A council of war was lately held, the Honourable Colonel Mortar being president. After many debates, it was unanimously resolved, that Major Blunder, a most expert officer, should be detached for Birmingham to buy arms, and to prove his firelocks on the spot, as well to prevent expense, as disappointment in the day of battle. The major being a person of consummate experience, was invested with a discretionary power. He knew from ancient story, that securing the rear, and making a glorious retreat, was the most celebrated piece of conduct. Accordingly such measures were taken to prevent surprise in the rear of his arms, that even Pallas herself, in the shape of rust, could not invade them. They were drawn into close order, firmly embodied, and arrived securely without touch-holes. Great and national actions deserve popular applause; and as praise is no expense to the public, therefore, dearest kinsman, I communicate this to you, as well to oblige this nursery of heroes, as to do justice to my native country. I am"Your mostAffectionate Kinsman,Offspring Twig."London,August 26, Artillery Ground."A war-horse, belonging to one of the colonels of the artillery, to be let or sold. He may be seen, adorned with ribands, and set forth to the best advantage, the next training day."

"Dear Sir,

"It is natural for distant relations to claim kindred with a rising family; though at this time, zeal to my country, not interest, calls me out. The City forces[88]being shortly to take the field, all good Protestants would be pleased that their arms and valour should shine with equal lustre. A council of war was lately held, the Honourable Colonel Mortar being president. After many debates, it was unanimously resolved, that Major Blunder, a most expert officer, should be detached for Birmingham to buy arms, and to prove his firelocks on the spot, as well to prevent expense, as disappointment in the day of battle. The major being a person of consummate experience, was invested with a discretionary power. He knew from ancient story, that securing the rear, and making a glorious retreat, was the most celebrated piece of conduct. Accordingly such measures were taken to prevent surprise in the rear of his arms, that even Pallas herself, in the shape of rust, could not invade them. They were drawn into close order, firmly embodied, and arrived securely without touch-holes. Great and national actions deserve popular applause; and as praise is no expense to the public, therefore, dearest kinsman, I communicate this to you, as well to oblige this nursery of heroes, as to do justice to my native country. I am

"Your most

Affectionate Kinsman,

Offspring Twig.

"London,August 26, Artillery Ground.

"A war-horse, belonging to one of the colonels of the artillery, to be let or sold. He may be seen, adorned with ribands, and set forth to the best advantage, the next training day."

FOOTNOTES:[80]See No. 56.[81]Perhaps Lord Forbes (afterwards third Earl of Granard), a naval officer on friendly terms with Swift. (See "Journal to Stella," July 21-23, 1711, and No. 271, note.) He was born in 1685, and was therefore only 24 in 1709.[82]See No. 57.[83]Probably Sir Humphrey Mackworth (1657-1727), the governor of a company formed for working copper mines in England. Yalden wrote verses "To Sir Humphrey Mackworth on working the mines." In 1709, after internal quarrels in the Corporation, Mackworth was accused of peculation, and in 1710 the House of Commons voted him guilty of fraud; but a bill alienating his estates fell through owing to the failing power of the Whigs. Mackworth was one of the founders of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and published some books on religious subjects, besides many political pamphlets.[84]See No. 54.[85]Dr. Robert South, who was, when this paper was written, nearly 75, and in bad health. In January 1709, Swift wrote to Lord Halifax, "Pray, my lord, desire Dr. South to die about the fall of the leaf," and in October Halifax wrote, "Dr. South holds out still, but he cannot be immortal." He lived until 1716.[86]Waller's "Sacharissa" was Lady Dorothy Sidney (1617-1684), daughter of Robert, second Earl of Leicester, and wife of Robert, second Earl of Sunderland.[87]The Duchess of Cleveland; see No. 50.[88]See No. 60.

[80]See No. 56.

[81]Perhaps Lord Forbes (afterwards third Earl of Granard), a naval officer on friendly terms with Swift. (See "Journal to Stella," July 21-23, 1711, and No. 271, note.) He was born in 1685, and was therefore only 24 in 1709.

[82]See No. 57.

[83]Probably Sir Humphrey Mackworth (1657-1727), the governor of a company formed for working copper mines in England. Yalden wrote verses "To Sir Humphrey Mackworth on working the mines." In 1709, after internal quarrels in the Corporation, Mackworth was accused of peculation, and in 1710 the House of Commons voted him guilty of fraud; but a bill alienating his estates fell through owing to the failing power of the Whigs. Mackworth was one of the founders of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and published some books on religious subjects, besides many political pamphlets.

[84]See No. 54.

[85]Dr. Robert South, who was, when this paper was written, nearly 75, and in bad health. In January 1709, Swift wrote to Lord Halifax, "Pray, my lord, desire Dr. South to die about the fall of the leaf," and in October Halifax wrote, "Dr. South holds out still, but he cannot be immortal." He lived until 1716.

[86]Waller's "Sacharissa" was Lady Dorothy Sidney (1617-1684), daughter of Robert, second Earl of Leicester, and wife of Robert, second Earl of Sunderland.

[87]The Duchess of Cleveland; see No. 50.

[88]See No. 60.

FromTuesday, August 30, toThursday, September 1, 1709.

This place being frequented by persons of condition, I am desired to recommend a dog kennel to any who shall want a pack. It lies not far from Suffolk Street,[89]and is kept by two who were formerly dragoons in the French service; but left plundering for the more orderly life of keeping dogs: besides that, according to their expectation, they find it more profitable, as well as more conducing to the safety of their skin, to follow this trade, than the beat of drum. Their residence is very convenient for the dogs to whelp in, and bring up a right breed to follow the scent. The most eminent of the kennel are bloodhounds, which lead the van, and are as follow:

A List of the Dogs.

Jowler, of a right Irish breed, called Captain.

Rockwood, of French race, with long hair, by the courtesy of England called also Captain.

Pompey, a tall hound, kennelled in a convent in France, and knows a rich soil.

The two last hunt in couple, and are followed by,

Ringwood, a French black whelp of the same breed, a fine open-mouthed dog; and an old sick hound, always in kennel; but of the true blood, with a good nose, French breed.

There is also an Italian greyhound, with good legs, and knows perfectly the ground from Ghent to Paris.

Ten setting dogs, right English.

Four mongrels, of the same nation.

And twenty whelps, fit for any game.

These curs are so extremely hungry, that they are too keen at the sport, and worry their game before the keepers can come in. The other day a wild boar from the north rushed into the kennel, and at first indeed defended himself against the whole pack; but they proved at last too many for him, and tore twenty-five pounds of flesh from off his back, with which they filled their bellies, and made so great a noise in the neighbourhood, that the keepers are obliged to hasten the sale. That quarter of the town where they are kennelled is generally inhabited by strangers, whose blood the hounds have often sucked in such a manner, that many a German count, and othervirtuosi, who come from the Continent, have lost the intention of their travels, and been unable to proceed on their journey.

If these hounds are not very soon disposed of to some good purchaser, as also those at the kennels nearer St. James's, it is humbly proposed, that they may be altogether transported to America, where the dogs are few, and the wild beasts many. Or, that during their stay in these parts, some eminent justice of the peace may have it in particular direction to visit their harbours; and that the Sheriff of Middlesex may allow him the assistance of the common hangman to cut off their ears, or part of them, for distinction-sake, that we may know the bloodhounds from the mongrels and setters. Till these things are regulated, you may inquire at a house belonging to Paris at the upper end of Suffolk Street, or a house belonging to Ghent, opposite to the lower end of Pall Mall, and know further.

It were to be wished that these curs were disposed of; for it is a very great nuisance to have them tolerated in cities. That of London takes care, that the common hunt, assisted by the Sergeants and bailiffs, expel them wherever they are found within the walls; though it is said, some private families keep them, to the destruction of their neighbours: but it is desired, that all who know of any of these curs, or have been bit by them, wouldsend me their marks, and the houses where they are harboured, and I do not doubt but I shall alarm the people so well, as to have them used like mad dogs wherever they appear. In the meantime, I advise all such as entertain this kind of vermin, that if they give me timely notice that their dogs are dismissed, I shall let them go unregarded, otherwise am obliged to admonish my fellow subjects in this behalf, and instruct them how to avoid being worried, when they are going about their lawful professions and callings. There was lately a young gentleman bit to the bone; who has now indeed recovered his health, but is as lean as a skeleton. It grieved my heart to see a gentleman's son run among the hounds; but he is, they tell me, as fleet and as dangerous as the best of the pack.

This evening was spent at our table in discourse of propriety of words and thoughts, which is Mr. Dryden's definition of wit;[90]but a very odd fellow, who would intrude upon us, and has a briskness of imagination more like madness than regular thought, said,[91]that Harry Jacks was the first who told him of the taking of the citadel of Tournay,[92]"and," says he, "Harry deserves a statue more than the boy who ran to the Senate with a thorn in his foot to tell of a victory." We were astonished at the assertion, and Spondee asked him, "What affinity is there between that boy and Harry, that you say their merit resembles so much as you just now told us?" "Why," says he, "Harry you know is in the French interest, and it was more pain to him to tell the story of Tournay, than to the boy to run upon a thorn to relate a victory which he was glad of." The gentleman who was in the chair upon the subject of propriety of words and thoughts, would by no means allow, that there was wit in this comparison; and urged, that to have anything gracefully said, it must be natural; and that whatsoever was introduced in common discourse with so much premeditation, was insufferable. That critic went on: "Had Mr. Jacks," said he, "told him the citadel was taken, and another had answered, 'He deserves a statue as well as the Roman boy, for he told it with as much pain'; it might have passed for a sprightly expression: but there is a wit for discourse, and a wit for writing. The easiness and familiarity of the first, is not to savour in the least of study; but the exactness of the other, is to admit of something like the freedom of discourse, especially in discourses of humanity, and what regards the Belles Lettres. I do not in this allow, that Bickerstaff'sTatlers, or discourses of wit by retail, and for the penny, should come within the description of writing." I bowed at his compliment, and—but he would not let me proceed.

You see in no place of conversation the perfection of speech so much as in an accomplished woman. Whether it be, that there is a partiality irresistible when we judge of that sex, or whatever it is, you may observe a wonderful freedom in their utterance, and an easy flow of words, without being distracted (as we often are who read much) in the choice of dictions and phrases. My Lady Courtly is an instance of this: she was talking the other day of dress, and did it with so excellent an air and gesture, that you would have sworn she had learned her action fromour Demosthenes. Besides which, her words were particularly well adapted to the matter she talked of, that the dress was a new thing to us men. She avoided the terms of art in it, and described an unaffected garb and manner in so proper terms, that she came up to that of Horace's "simplex munditiis";[93]which, whoever can translate in two words, has as much eloquence as Lady Courtly. I took the liberty to tell her, that all she had said with so much good grace, was spoken in two words in Horace, but would not undertake to translate them; upon which she smiled, and told me, she believed me a very great scholar, and I took my leave.

I have been just now reading the introduction to the History of Catiline by Sallust, an author who is very much in my favour; but when I reflect upon his professing himself wholly disinterested, and at the same time see how industriously he has avoided saying anything to the praise of Cicero, to whose vigilance the commonwealth owed its safety, it very much lessens my esteem for that writer; and is one argument, among others, for laughing at all who pretend to be out of the interests of the world, and profess purely to act for the service of mankind, without the least regard to themselves. I do not deny but that the rewards are different; some aim at riches, others at honour, by their public services. However, they are all pursuing some end to themselves, though indeed those ends differ as much as right and wrong. The most graceful way then, I should think, would be to acknowledge, that you aim at serving yourselves; but at the same time make it appear, it is for the service of others that you have these opportunities. Of all the disinterested professors I have ever heard of, I take the boatswain of Dampier's ship to be the most impudent, but the most excusable.[94]You are to know, that in the wild searches that navigator was making, they happened to be out at sea, far distant from any shore, in want of all the necessaries of life; insomuch, that they began to look, not without hunger, on each other. The boatswain was a fat, healthy, fresh fellow, and attracted the eyes of the whole crew. In such an extreme necessity, all forms of superiority were laid aside: the captain and lieutenant were safe only by being carrion, and the unhappy boatswain in danger only by being worth eating. To be short, the company were unanimous, and the boatswain must be cut up. He saw their intention, and desired he might speak a few words before they proceeded; which being permitted, he delivered himself as follows:

"Gentlemen Sailors,"Far be it that I should speak it for any private interest of my own, but I take it, that I should not die with a good conscience, if I did not confess to you that I am not sound. I say, gentlemen, justice, and the testimony of a good conscience, as well as love of my country, to which I hope you will all return, oblige me to own, that Black Kate at Deptford has made me very unsafe to eat; and (I speak it with shame) I am afraid, gentlemen, I should poison you."

"Gentlemen Sailors,

"Far be it that I should speak it for any private interest of my own, but I take it, that I should not die with a good conscience, if I did not confess to you that I am not sound. I say, gentlemen, justice, and the testimony of a good conscience, as well as love of my country, to which I hope you will all return, oblige me to own, that Black Kate at Deptford has made me very unsafe to eat; and (I speak it with shame) I am afraid, gentlemen, I should poison you."

This speech had a good effect in the boatswain's favour; but the surgeon of the ship protested, he had cured him very well, and offered to eat the first steak of him himself.

The boatswain replied (like an orator, with a true notion of the people, and in hopes to gain time) that he was heartily glad if he could be for their service, and thanked the surgeon for his information. "However," said he, "I must inform you, for your own good, that I have ever since my cure been very thirsty and dropsical; therefore I presume it would be much better to tap me, and drink me off, than eat me at once, and have no man in the ship fit to be drank." As he was going on with his harangue, a fresh gale arose, and gave the crew hopes of a better repast at the nearest shore, to which they arrived next morning.

Most of the self-denials we meet with are of this sort; therefore I think he acts fairest who owns, he hopes at least to have brother's fare, without professing that he gives himself up with pleasure to be devoured for the preservation of his fellows.

Letters from the Hague of the 6th of September, N.S., say, that the governor of the citadel at Tournay having offered their highnesses the Duke of Marlborough and the Prince of Savoy to surrender that place on the 31st of the last month, on terms which were not allowed them by those princes, hostilities were thereupon renewed; but that on the 3rd the place was surrendered, with a seeming condition granted to the besieged above that of being prisoners of war; for they were forthwith to beconducted to Condé, but were to be exchanged for prisoners of the Allies, and particularly those of Warneton were mentioned in the demand. Both armies having stretched towards Mons with the utmost diligence, that of the Allies, though they passed the much more difficult road, arrived first before that town, which they have now actually invested; and the quartermaster-general was, at the time of despatching these letters, marking the ground for the encampment of the covering army.

Mr. Omicron,[95]the unborn poet, gives notice, that he writes all treatises as well in verse as prose, being a ninth son, and translates out of all languages, without learning or study.

If any bookseller will treat for his pastoral on the "Siege and Surrender of the Citadel of Tournay," he must send in his proposals before the news of a capitulation for any other town.

The undertaker for either play-house may have an opera written by him; or, if it shall suit their design, a satire upon operas; both ready for next winter.

This is to give notice, that Richard Farloe, M.A., well known for his acuteness in dissection of dead bodies, and his great skill in osteology, has now laid by that practice; and having, by great study, and much labour, acquired the knowledge of an antidote for all the most common maladies of the stomach, is removed, and may be applied to, at any time of the day, in the south entrance from Newgate Street into Christ's Hospital.

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