FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[228]Æsop and Phalaris were certainly real persons, though the "letters" attributed to Phalaris are spurious.[229]Mons was taken on October 21, 1709 (N.S.).[230]The substance of this story of the Cornish lovers may have been sent to Steele by the "Solomon Afterwit" whose letter from Land's End is printed in the next number.[231]Cf."Paradise Lost," iv. 769, quoted in No. 79:—"Or serenade, which the starved lover singsTo his proud fair, best quitted with disdain."

[228]Æsop and Phalaris were certainly real persons, though the "letters" attributed to Phalaris are spurious.

[229]Mons was taken on October 21, 1709 (N.S.).

[230]The substance of this story of the Cornish lovers may have been sent to Steele by the "Solomon Afterwit" whose letter from Land's End is printed in the next number.

[231]Cf."Paradise Lost," iv. 769, quoted in No. 79:—"Or serenade, which the starved lover singsTo his proud fair, best quitted with disdain."

[231]Cf."Paradise Lost," iv. 769, quoted in No. 79:—

"Or serenade, which the starved lover singsTo his proud fair, best quitted with disdain."

FromTuesday, Oct. 18, toThursday Oct. 20, 1709.

Senilis stultitia, quæ deliratio appellari solet, senum levium est, non omnium.—Cicero, De Senec., xi. 36.

It is my frequent practice to visit places of resort in this town where I am least known, to observe what reception my works meet with in the world, and whatgood effects I may promise myself from my labours; and it being a privilege asserted by Monsieur Montaigne and others, of vainglorious memory, that we writers of essays may talk of ourselves,[232]I take the liberty to give an account of the remarks which I find are made by some of my gentle readers upon these my dissertations. I happened this evening to fall into a coffee-house near the 'Change, where two persons were reading my account of the table of fame.[233]The one of these was commenting as he read, and explaining who was meant by this and the other worthy as he passed on. I observed the person over against him wonderfully intent and satisfied with his explanation. When he came to Julius Cæsar, who is said to have refused any conductor to the table, "No, no," said he, "he is in the right of it, he has money enough to be welcome wherever he comes;" and then whispered, "He means a certain colonel of the train-bands." Upon reading, that Aristotle made his claim with some rudeness, but great strength of reason, "Who can that be, so rough and so reasonable? It must be some Whig I warrant you. There is nothing but party in these public papers." Where Pythagoras is said to have a golden thigh, "Ay, ay," said he, "he has money enough in his breeches, that is the alderman of our ward." You must know, whatever he read, I found he interpreted from his own way of life and acquaintance. I am glad my readers can construe for themselves these difficult points; but for the benefit of posterity, I design, when I come to write my last paper of this kind, to make it an explanation of all my former. In that piece you shall have all I have commended, with their proper names. The faulty characters must be left as they are, because we live in an age wherein vice is very general, and virtue very particular; for which reason the latter only wants explanation. But I must turn my present discourse to what is of yet greater regard to me than the care of my writings; that is to say, the preservation of a lady's heart. Little did I think I should ever have business of this kind on my hands more; but as little as any one who knows me would believe it, there is a lady at this time who professes love to me. Her passion and good-humour you shall have in her own words.

"Mr.Bickerstaff,"I had formerly a very good opinion of myself; but it is now withdrawn, and I have placed it upon you, Mr. Bickerstaff, for whom I am not ashamed to declare, I have a very great passion and tenderness. It is not for your face, for that I never saw; your shape and height I am equally a stranger to: but your understanding charms me, and I'm lost if you don't dissemble a little love for me. I am not without hopes, because I am not like the tawdry gay things that are fit only to make bone-lace. I am neither childish-young, nor beldam-old, but (the world says) a good agreeable woman."Speak peace to a troubled heart, troubled only for you; and in your next paper let me find your thoughts of me."Don't think of finding out who I am, for notwithstanding your interest in demons, they cannot help youeither to my name, or a sight of my face; therefore don't let them deceive you."I can bear no discourse if you are not the subject; and, believe me, I know more of love than you do of astronomy."Pray say some civil things in return to my generosity, and you shall have my very best pen employed to thank you, and I will confirm it. I am"Your Admirer,Maria."

"Mr.Bickerstaff,

"I had formerly a very good opinion of myself; but it is now withdrawn, and I have placed it upon you, Mr. Bickerstaff, for whom I am not ashamed to declare, I have a very great passion and tenderness. It is not for your face, for that I never saw; your shape and height I am equally a stranger to: but your understanding charms me, and I'm lost if you don't dissemble a little love for me. I am not without hopes, because I am not like the tawdry gay things that are fit only to make bone-lace. I am neither childish-young, nor beldam-old, but (the world says) a good agreeable woman.

"Speak peace to a troubled heart, troubled only for you; and in your next paper let me find your thoughts of me.

"Don't think of finding out who I am, for notwithstanding your interest in demons, they cannot help youeither to my name, or a sight of my face; therefore don't let them deceive you.

"I can bear no discourse if you are not the subject; and, believe me, I know more of love than you do of astronomy.

"Pray say some civil things in return to my generosity, and you shall have my very best pen employed to thank you, and I will confirm it. I am

"Your Admirer,

Maria."

There is something wonderfully pleasing in the favour of women; and this letter has put me in so good a humour, that nothing could displease me since I received it. My boy breaks glasses and pipes, and instead of giving him a knock of the pate, as my way is (for I hate scolding at servants), I only say, "Ah! Jack, thou hast a head, and so has a pin;" or some such merry expression. But alas! how am I mortified when he is putting on my fourth pair of stockings on these poor spindles of mine? The fair one understands love better than I astronomy! I am sure, without the help of that art, this poor meagre trunk of mine is a very ill habitation for love. She is pleased to speak civilly of my sense; butingenium male habitatis an invincible difficulty in cases of this nature. I had always indeed, from a passion to please the eyes of the fair, a great pleasure in dress. Add to this, that I have written songs since I was sixty, and have lived with all the circumspection of an old beau, as I am: but my friend Horace has very well said, "Every year takes something from us;"[234]and instructed me to form my pursuits and desires according to the stage of my life: therefore I have no more to value myself upon, than thatI can converse with young people without peevishness, or wishing myself a moment younger. For which reason, when I am amongst them, I rather moderate than interrupt their diversions. But though I have this complacency, I must not pretend to write to a lady civil things, as Maria desires. Time was, when I could have told her, I had received a letter from her fair hands; and, that if this paper trembled as she read it, it then best expressed its author, or some other gay conceit. Though I never saw her, I could have told her, that good sense and good humour smiled in her eyes; that constancy and good nature dwelt in her heart; that beauty and good breeding appeared in all her actions. When I was five-and-twenty, upon sight of one syllable, even wrong spelt, by a lady I never saw, I could tell her, that her height was that which was fit for inviting our approach, and commanding our respect; that a smile sat on her lips, which prefaced her expressions before she uttered them, and her aspect prevented her speech. All she could say, though she had an infinite deal of wit, was but a repetition of what was expressed by her form; her form! which struck her beholders with ideas more moving and forcible than ever were inspired by music, painting, or eloquence. At this rate I panted in those days; but, ah! sixty-three! I am very sorry I can only return the agreeable Maria a passion, expressed rather from the head than the heart.

"Dear Madam,"You have already seen the best of me, and I so passionately love you, that I desire we may never meet. If you will examine your heart, you will find, that you join the man with the philosopher: and if you have that kind opinion of my sense as you pretend, I question not, but you add to it complexion, air, andshape: but, dear Molly, a man in his grand climacteric is of no sex. Be a good girl; and conduct yourself with honour and virtue, when you love one younger than myself. I am, with the greatest tenderness,"Your innocent Lover,I. B."

"Dear Madam,

"You have already seen the best of me, and I so passionately love you, that I desire we may never meet. If you will examine your heart, you will find, that you join the man with the philosopher: and if you have that kind opinion of my sense as you pretend, I question not, but you add to it complexion, air, andshape: but, dear Molly, a man in his grand climacteric is of no sex. Be a good girl; and conduct yourself with honour and virtue, when you love one younger than myself. I am, with the greatest tenderness,

"Your innocent Lover,

I. B."

There is nothing more common than the weakness mentioned in the following epistle; and I believe there is hardly a man living who has not been more or less injured by it.

"Sir,Land's End, Oct. 12."I have left the town some time; and much the sooner, for not having had the advantage when I lived there of so good a pilot as you are to this present age. Your cautions to the young men against the vices of the town are very well: but there is one not less needful, which I think you have omitted. I had from the 'Rough Diamond' (a gentleman so called from an honest blunt wit he had) not long since dead, this observation, that a young man must be at least three or four years in London before he dares say 'No.'"You will easily see the truth and force of this observation; for I believe, more people are drawn away against their inclinations, than with them. A young man is afraid to deny anybody going to a tavern to dinner; or after being gorged there, to repeat the same with another company at supper, or to drink excessively if desired, or go to any other place, or commit any other extravagancy proposed. The fear of being thought covetous, or to have no money, or to be under the dominion or fear of his parents and friends, hinders him from the free exerciseof his understanding, and affirming boldly the true reason, which is, his real dislike of what is desired. If you could cure this slavish facility, it would save abundance at their first entrance into the world. I am,Sir,"Yours,Solomon Afterwit."

"Sir,

Land's End, Oct. 12.

"I have left the town some time; and much the sooner, for not having had the advantage when I lived there of so good a pilot as you are to this present age. Your cautions to the young men against the vices of the town are very well: but there is one not less needful, which I think you have omitted. I had from the 'Rough Diamond' (a gentleman so called from an honest blunt wit he had) not long since dead, this observation, that a young man must be at least three or four years in London before he dares say 'No.'

"You will easily see the truth and force of this observation; for I believe, more people are drawn away against their inclinations, than with them. A young man is afraid to deny anybody going to a tavern to dinner; or after being gorged there, to repeat the same with another company at supper, or to drink excessively if desired, or go to any other place, or commit any other extravagancy proposed. The fear of being thought covetous, or to have no money, or to be under the dominion or fear of his parents and friends, hinders him from the free exerciseof his understanding, and affirming boldly the true reason, which is, his real dislike of what is desired. If you could cure this slavish facility, it would save abundance at their first entrance into the world. I am,Sir,

"Yours,

Solomon Afterwit."

This epistle has given an occasion to a treatise on this subject, wherein I shall lay down rules when a young stripling is to say "No," and a young virgin "Yes."

N.B.—For the publication of this discourse, I wait only for subscriptions from the undergraduates of each University, and the young ladies in the boarding-schools of Hackney and Chelsea.

Letters from the Hague of the 25th of October, N.S., advise, that the garrison of Mons marched out on the 23rd instant, and a garrison of the allies marched into the town. All the forces in the field, both of the enemy and the confederates, are preparing to withdraw into winter quarters.

FOOTNOTES:[232]Among many other things to the same effect, Montaigne wrote: "Grant that it is a fault in me to write about myself, I ought not, following my general intent, to refuse an action that publisheth this crazed quality, since I have it in myself, and I should not conceal this fault, which I have not only in use but in profession" (Florio's "Montaigne").[233]See No. 81.[234]2 Epist. ii. 55.

[232]Among many other things to the same effect, Montaigne wrote: "Grant that it is a fault in me to write about myself, I ought not, following my general intent, to refuse an action that publisheth this crazed quality, since I have it in myself, and I should not conceal this fault, which I have not only in use but in profession" (Florio's "Montaigne").

[233]See No. 81.

[234]2 Epist. ii. 55.

FromThursday, Oct. 20, toSaturday, Oct. 22, 1709.

I have received a letter subscribed A. B.[235]wherein it has been represented to me as an enormity, that there are more than ordinary crowds of women at the OldBailey when a rape is to be tried: but by Mr. A. B.'s favour, I can't tell who are so much concerned in that part of the law as the sex he mentions, they being the only persons liable to such insults. Nor indeed do I think it more unreasonable that they should be inquisitive on such occasions, than men of honour when one is tried for killing another in a duel. It is very natural to inquire how the fatal pass was made, that we may the better defend ourselves when we come to be attacked. Several eminent ladies appeared lately at the Court of Justice on such an occasion, and with great patience and attention stayed the whole trials of two persons for the above-said crime. The law to me indeed seems a little defective on this point; and it is a very great hardship, that this crime, which is committed by men only, should have men only on their jury. I humbly therefore propose, that on future trials of this sort, half of the twelve may be women; and those such whose faces are well known to have taken notes, or may be supposed to remember what happened in former trials in the same place. There is the learned Androgyne, that would make a good fore-woman of the panel, who (by long attendance) understands as much law and anatomy as is necessary in this case. Till this is taken care of, I am humbly of opinion, it would be much more expedient that the fair were wholly absent: for to what end can it be that they should be present at such examinations, when they can only be perplexed with a fellow-feeling for the injured, without any power to avenge their sufferings. It is an unnecessary pain which the fair ones give themselves on these occasions. I have known a young woman shriek out at some parts of the evidence; and have frequently observed, that when the proof grew particular and strong, there has been such auniversal flutter of fans, that one would think the whole female audience were falling into fits. Nor indeed can I see how men themselves can be wholly unmoved at such tragical relations. In short, I must tell my female readers, and they may take an old man's word for it, that there is nothing in woman so graceful and becoming as modesty: it adds charms to their beauty, and gives a new softness to their sex. Without it, simplicity and innocence appear rude, reading and good sense masculine, wit and humour lascivious. This is so necessary a qualification for pleasing, that the loose part of womankind, whose study it is to ensnare men's hearts, never fail to support the appearance of what they know is so essential to that end: and I have heard it reported by the young fellows in my time, as a maxim of the celebrated Madam Bennet,[236]that a young wench, though never so beautiful, was not worth her board when she was past her blushing. This discourse naturally brings into my thoughts a letter I have received from the virtuous Lady Whittlestick on the subject of Lucretia.

From my Tea-table,October17."Cousin Isaac,"I read yourTatlerof Saturday last,[237]and was surprised to see you so partial to your own sex, as to think none of ours worthy to sit at your first table; for sure you cannot but own Lucretia as famous as any you have placed there, who first parted with her virtue, and afterwards with her life, to preserve her fame."

From my Tea-table,October17.

"Cousin Isaac,

"I read yourTatlerof Saturday last,[237]and was surprised to see you so partial to your own sex, as to think none of ours worthy to sit at your first table; for sure you cannot but own Lucretia as famous as any you have placed there, who first parted with her virtue, and afterwards with her life, to preserve her fame."

Mrs. Biddy Twig has written me a letter to the same purpose: but in answer to both my pretty correspondents and kinswomen, I must tell them, that although I know Lucretia would have made a very graceful figure at the upper end of the table, I did not think it proper to place her there, because I knew she would not care for being in the company of so many men without her husband. At the same time I must own, that Tarquin himself was not a greater lover and admirer of Lucretia than I myself am in an honest way. When my sister Jenny was in her sampler, I made her get the whole story without book, and tell it me in needlework. This illustrious lady stands up in history as the glory of her own sex, and the reproach of ours; and the circumstances under which she fell were so very particular, that they seem to make adultery and murder meritorious. She was a woman of such transcendent virtue, that her beauty, which was the greatest of the age and country in which she lived, and is generally celebrated as the highest of praise in other women, is never mentioned as a part of her character. But it would be declaiming to dwell upon so celebrated a story, which I mentioned only in respect to my kinswomen; and to make reparation for the omission they complain of, do further promise them, that if they can furnish me with instances to fill it, there shall be a small tea-table set apart in my palace of fame for the reception of all of her character.[238]

I was this evening communicating my design of producing obscure merit into public view; and proposed to the learned, that they would please to assist me in the work. For the same end I publish my intention to the world, that all men of liberal thoughts may know they have an opportunity of doing justice to such worthy persons as have come within their respective observation, and who by misfortune, modesty, or want of proper writers to recommend them, have escaped the notice of the rest of mankind. If therefore any one can bring any tale or tidings of illustrious persons, or glorious actions, that are not commonly known, he is desired to send an account thereof to me at J. Morphew's, and they shall have justice done them. At the same time that I have this concern for men and things that deserve reputation and have it not, I am resolved to examine into the claims of such ancients and moderns as are in possession of it, with a design to displace them, in case I find their titles defective. The first whose merits I shall inquire into, are some merry gentlemen of the French nation, who have written very advantageous histories of their exploits in war, love, and politics, under the title of memoirs. I am afraid I shall find several of these gentlemen tardy, because I hear of them in no writings but their own. To read the narrative of one of these authors, you would fancy there was not an action in a whole campaign which he did not contrive or execute; yet if you consult the history, or gazettes of those times, you do not find himso much as the head of a party from one end of the summer to the other. But it is the way of these great men, when they lie behind their lines, and are in a time of inaction, as they call it, to pass away their time in writing their exploits. By this means, several who are either unknown or despised in the present age, will be famous in the next, unless a sudden stop be put to such pernicious practices. There are others of that gay people who (as I am informed) will live half a year together in a garret, and write a history of their intrigues in the court of France. As for politicians, they do not abound with that species of men so much as we; but as ours are not so famous for writing as for extemporary dissertations in coffee-houses, they are more annoyed with memoirs of this nature also than we are. The most immediate remedy that I can apply to prevent this growing evil, is, that I do hereby give notice to all booksellers and translators whatsoever, that the word "memoir" is French for a novel; and to require of them, that they sell and translate it accordingly.

Coming into this place to-night, I met an old friend of mine,[239]who, a little after the Restoration, wrote an epigram with some applause, which he has lived upon ever since; and by virtue of it, has been a constant frequenter of this coffee-house for forty years. He took me aside, and with a great deal of friendship told me, he was glad to see me alive; "for" says he, "Mr. Bickerstaff,I am sorry to find you have raised many enemies by your lucubrations. There are indeed some," says he, "whose enmity is the greatest honour they can show a man; but have you lived to these years, and don't know, that the ready way to disoblige is to give advice? You may endeavour to guard your children, as you call them, but—" He was going on; but I found the disagreeableness of giving advice without being asked it, by my own impatience of what he was about to say. In a word, I begged him to give me the hearing of a short fable.

"A gentleman," says I, "who was one day slumbering in an arbour, was on a sudden awakened by the gentle biting of a lizard, a little animal remarkable for its love to mankind. He threw it from his hand with some indignation, and was rising up to kill it, when he saw an huge venomous serpent sliding towards him on the other side, which he soon destroyed; reflecting afterwards with gratitude upon his friend that saved him, and with anger against himself, that had shown so little sense of a good office."

FOOTNOTES:[235]Perhaps Alexander Bayne (died 1737), an advocate then living in London, and afterwards Professor of Scots Law at Edinburgh. See Hughes's "Correspondence," i. 56.[236]A notorious character of the time of Charles II., to whom Wycherley dedicated his "Plain Dealer," under the title of "My Lady B——," in a long ironical address respecting herself and women of her class, which is praised by Steele in theSpectator(No. 266).[237]No. 81.[238]"A table of fame for the ladies will be published as soon as materials can be collected, to which end the public are desired to contribute, and it will be gratefully acknowledged." (Female Tatler, No. 58, Nov. 7, 1709.)The writer of the "General Postscript" advertised his intention of erecting speedily a temple of honour for British heroes only (No. 11, October 11, 1709). The same writer says, that Mr. Tatler and his admirers were wrapped up in his "table of fame" (November 11, 1709).[239]Possibly William Walsh, a man of fashion and critic, who was a friend both of Dryden and Pope. Johnson says, "He is known more by his familiarity with greater men, than by anything done or written by himself."

[235]Perhaps Alexander Bayne (died 1737), an advocate then living in London, and afterwards Professor of Scots Law at Edinburgh. See Hughes's "Correspondence," i. 56.

[236]A notorious character of the time of Charles II., to whom Wycherley dedicated his "Plain Dealer," under the title of "My Lady B——," in a long ironical address respecting herself and women of her class, which is praised by Steele in theSpectator(No. 266).

[237]No. 81.

[238]"A table of fame for the ladies will be published as soon as materials can be collected, to which end the public are desired to contribute, and it will be gratefully acknowledged." (Female Tatler, No. 58, Nov. 7, 1709.)The writer of the "General Postscript" advertised his intention of erecting speedily a temple of honour for British heroes only (No. 11, October 11, 1709). The same writer says, that Mr. Tatler and his admirers were wrapped up in his "table of fame" (November 11, 1709).

The writer of the "General Postscript" advertised his intention of erecting speedily a temple of honour for British heroes only (No. 11, October 11, 1709). The same writer says, that Mr. Tatler and his admirers were wrapped up in his "table of fame" (November 11, 1709).

[239]Possibly William Walsh, a man of fashion and critic, who was a friend both of Dryden and Pope. Johnson says, "He is known more by his familiarity with greater men, than by anything done or written by himself."

FromSaturday, Oct. 22, toTuesday, Oct. 25, 1709.

My brother Tranquillus,[240]who is a man of business, came to me this morning into my study, and after very many civil expressions in return for what good offices I had done him, told me, he desired to carry his wife, my sister, that very morning to his own house. I readily told him I would wait upon him, without asking why he was so impatient to rob us of his good company. He went out of my chamber, and I thought seemed to have a little heaviness upon him, which gave me some disquiet. Soon after, my sister came to me with a very matron-like air, and most sedate satisfaction in her looks, which spoke her very much at ease; but the traces of her countenance seemed to discover that she had been lately in passion, and that air of content to flow from a certain triumph upon some advantage obtained. She no sooner sat down by me, but I perceived she was one of those ladies who begin to be managers within the time of their being brides. Without letting her speak (which I saw she had a mighty inclination to do), I said, "Here has been your husband, who tells me he has a mind to go home this very morning; and I have consented to it." "It is well," said she, "for you must know—" "Nay, Jenny," said I, "I beg your pardon, for it is you must know—you are to understand, that now is the time to fix or alienate your husband's heart for ever; and I fear you have been a little indiscreet in your expressions or behaviour towards him even here in my house." "There has," says she, "been some words; but I'll be judged by you if he was not in the wrong: nay, I need not be judged by anybody, for he gave it up himself, and said not a word, when he saw me grow passionate, but 'Madam, you are perfectly in the right of it.' As you shall judge—" "Nay, madam," said I, "I am judge already, and tell you, that you are perfectly in the wrong of it; for if it was a matter of importance, I know he has better sense than you; if a trifle, you know what I told you on your wedding-day, that you were to be above little provocations." She knows very well I can be sour upon occasion, therefore gave me leave to go on. "Sister," said I, "I will not enter into the disputebetween you, which I find his prudence put an end to before it came to extremity, but charge you to have a care of the first quarrel, as you tender your happiness; for then it is that the mind will reflect harshly upon every circumstance that has ever passed between you. If such an accident is ever to happen (which I hope never will), be sure to keep to the circumstance before you; make no allusions to what is past, or conclusions referring to what is to come: don't show an hoard of matter for dissension in your breast; but if it is necessary, lay before him the thing as you understand it, candidly, without being ashamed of acknowledging an error, or proud of being in the right. If a young couple be not careful in this point, they will get into a habit of wrangling: and when to displease is thought of no consequence, to please is always of as little moment. There is a play, Jenny, I have formerly been at when I was a student: we got into a dark corner with a porringer of brandy, and threw raisins into it, then set it on fire. My chamber-fellow and I diverted ourselves with the sport of venturing our fingers for the raisins; and the wantonness of the thing was, to see each other look like a demon as we burnt ourselves and snatched out the fruit. This fantastical mirth was called snap-dragon. You may go into many a family, where you see the man and wife at this sport: every word at their table alludes to some passage between themselves; and you see by the paleness and emotion in their countenances, that it is for your sake, and not their own, that they forbear playing out the whole game, in burning each other's fingers. In this case, the whole purpose of life is inverted, and the ambition turns upon a certain contention, who shall contradict best, and not upon an inclination to excel in kindnesses and good offices. Therefore, dear Jenny, remember me,and avoid snap-dragon." "I thank you, brother," said she, "but you don't know how he loves me; I find I can do anything with him." "If you can so, why should you desire to do anything but please him? But I have a word or two more before you go out of the room; for I see you do not like the subject I am upon. Let nothing provoke you to fall upon an imperfection he cannot help; for if he has a resenting spirit, he will think your aversion as immovable as the imperfection with which you upbraid him. But above all, dear Jenny, be careful of one thing, and you will be something more than woman, that is, a levity you are almost all guilty of, which is, to take a pleasure in your power to give pain. It is even in a mistress an argument of meanness of spirit, but in a wife it is injustice and ingratitude. When a sensible man once observes this in a woman, he must have a very great or a very little spirit to overlook it. A woman ought therefore to consider very often, how few men there are who will regard a meditated offence as a weakness of temper." I was going on in my confabulation, when Tranquillus entered. She cast her eyes upon him with much shame and confusion, mixed with great complacency and love, and went up to him. He took her in his arms, and looked so many soft things at one glance, that I could see he was glad I had been talking to her, sorry she had been troubled, and angry at himself that he could not disguise the concern he was in an hour before. After which, he says to me, with an air awkward enough, but methought not unbecoming, "I have altered my mind, brother; we'll live upon you a day or two longer." I replied, "That's what I have been persuading Jenny to ask of you; but she is resolved never to contradict your inclination, and refused me." We were going on in that way which one hardly knowshow to express; as when two people mean the same thing in a nice case, but come at it by talking as distantly from it as they can; when very opportunely came in upon us an honest inconsiderable fellow, Tim Dapper, a gentleman well known to us both. Tim is one of those who are very necessary by being very inconsiderable. Tim dropped in at an incident when we knew not how to fall into either a grave or a merry way. My sister took this occasion to make off, and Dapper gave us an account of all the company he had been in to-day, who was and who was not at home, where he visited. This Tim is the head of a species: he is a little out of his element in this town; but he is a relation of Tranquillus, and his neighbour in the country, which is the true place of residence for this species. The habit of a Dapper, when he is at home, is a light broadcloth, with calamanco[241]or red waistcoat and breeches; and it is remarkable, that their wigs seldom hide the collar of their coats. They have always a peculiar spring in their arms, a wriggle in their bodies, and a trip in their gait; all which motions they express at once in their drinking, bowing, or saluting ladies; for a distant imitation of a forward fop, and a resolution to overtop him in his way, are the distinguishing marks of a Dapper. These under-characters of men are parts of the sociable world by no means to be neglected: they are like pegs in a building. They make no figure in it, but hold the structure together, and are as absolutely necessary as the pillars and columns. I am sure we found it so this morning; for Tranquillus and I should perhaps have looked cold at each other the whole day, but Dapper fell in with his brisk way, shook us both by the hand, rallied the bride, mistook the acceptance he met with amongst us for extraordinary perfection in himself, and heartily pleased, and was pleased, all the while he stayed. His company left us all in good-humour, and we were not such fools as to let it sink, before we confirmed it by great cheerfulness and openness in our carriage the whole evening.

I have been this evening to visit a lady who is a relation of the enamoured Cynthio,[242]and there heard the melancholy news of his death. I was in hopes that fox-hunting and October would have recovered him from his unhappy passion. He went into the country with a design to leave behind him all thoughts of Clarissa; but he found that place only more convenient to think of her without interruption. The country gentlemen were very much puzzled upon his case, and never finding him merry or loud in their company, took him for a Roman Catholic, and immediately upon his death seized his French valet-de-chambre for a priest; and it is generally thought in the county, it will go hard with him next session. Poor Cynthio never held up his head after having received a letter of Clarissa's marriage. The lady who gave me this account being far gone in poetry and romance, told me, if I would give her an epitaph, she would take care to have it placed on his tomb; which she herself had devised in the following manner: it is to be made of black marble, and every corner to be crowned with weeping cupids. Their quivers are to be hung up upon two tall cypress-trees which are to grow on each side of the monument, and their arrows to be laid in a great heap, after the manner of a funeral pile, on which is to lie the body of the deceased. On the top of each cypress is to stand the figure of a moaning turtle-dove. On the uppermost part of the monument, the goddess to whom these birds are sacred, is to sit in a dejected posture, as weeping for the death of her votary. I need not tell you this lady's head is a little turned: however, to be rid of importunities, I promised her an epitaph, and told her, I would take for my pattern that of Don Alonzo, who was no less famous in his age than Cynthio is in ours.

THE EPITAPH.[243]Here lies Don Alonzo,Slain by a wound received underHis left pap;The orifice of which was soSmall, no surgeon couldDiscover it.READER,If thou wouldst avoid so strangeA death,Look not upon Lucinda's eyes.

THE EPITAPH.[243]

Here lies Don Alonzo,Slain by a wound received underHis left pap;The orifice of which was soSmall, no surgeon couldDiscover it.

READER,

If thou wouldst avoid so strangeA death,Look not upon Lucinda's eyes.

FOOTNOTES:[240]See No. 79.[241]Calamanco is a woollen stuff made plain, striped, checked, or figured, and glazed in finishing. It was generally made in Flanders and Brabant, and was much used in the last century.Cf.No. 96, "a gay calamanco waistcoat."[242]See No. 35. Steele returned to the character of Cynthio in 1714, in No. 38 of theLover, written two months after Lord Hinchinbroke had spoken on Steele's behalf in the debate whether he should be expelled the House of Commons. Lord Hinchinbroke died in 1722; in 1712 it was reported that he was one of the Mohocks who went about doing mischief ("Wentworth Papers," 277 note).[243]This epitaph is a quotation from a letter of Sir John Suckling ("Works," 1770, I. 103).

[240]See No. 79.

[241]Calamanco is a woollen stuff made plain, striped, checked, or figured, and glazed in finishing. It was generally made in Flanders and Brabant, and was much used in the last century.Cf.No. 96, "a gay calamanco waistcoat."

[242]See No. 35. Steele returned to the character of Cynthio in 1714, in No. 38 of theLover, written two months after Lord Hinchinbroke had spoken on Steele's behalf in the debate whether he should be expelled the House of Commons. Lord Hinchinbroke died in 1722; in 1712 it was reported that he was one of the Mohocks who went about doing mischief ("Wentworth Papers," 277 note).

[243]This epitaph is a quotation from a letter of Sir John Suckling ("Works," 1770, I. 103).

FromTuesday, Oct. 25, toThursday, Oct. 27, 1709.

When I came home last night, my servant delivered me the following letter:

"Sir,October 24."I have orders from Sir Harry Quicksett, of Staffordshire, Bart., to acquaint you, that his honour Sir Harry himself, Sir Giles Wheelbarrow, Kt.; Thomas Rentfree, Esq., Justice of the Quorum; Andrew Windmill, Esq.; and Mr. Nicholas Doubt of the Inner Temple, Sir Harry's grandson, will wait upon you at the hour of nine to-morrow morning, being Tuesday the 25th of October, upon business which Sir Harry will impart to you by word of mouth. I thought it proper to acquaint you beforehand so many persons of quality came, that you might not be surprised therewith. Which concludes, though by many years' absence since I saw you at Stafford, unknown,"Sir,Your most humble Servant,John Thrifty."

"Sir,

October 24.

"I have orders from Sir Harry Quicksett, of Staffordshire, Bart., to acquaint you, that his honour Sir Harry himself, Sir Giles Wheelbarrow, Kt.; Thomas Rentfree, Esq., Justice of the Quorum; Andrew Windmill, Esq.; and Mr. Nicholas Doubt of the Inner Temple, Sir Harry's grandson, will wait upon you at the hour of nine to-morrow morning, being Tuesday the 25th of October, upon business which Sir Harry will impart to you by word of mouth. I thought it proper to acquaint you beforehand so many persons of quality came, that you might not be surprised therewith. Which concludes, though by many years' absence since I saw you at Stafford, unknown,

"Sir,

Your most humble Servant,

John Thrifty."

I received this message with less surprise than I believe Mr. Thrifty imagined; for I knew the good company too well to feel any palpitations at their approach: but I was in very great concern how I should adjust the ceremonial, and demean myself to all these great men, who perhaps had not seen anything above themselves for these twenty years last past. I am sure that's the case of Sir Harry. Besides which, I was sensible that there was a great point in adjusting my behaviour to the simple squire, so as to give him satisfaction, and not disoblige the Justice of the Quorum. The hour of nine was come this morning, and I had no sooner set chairs (by the steward's letter), and fixed my tea-equipage, but I heard a knock at my door, which was opened, but no one entered; after which followed a long silence, which was broke at last by, "Sir, I beg your pardon; I think I know better:" and another voice, "Nay, good Sir Giles——" I looked out from my window, and saw the good company all with their hats off, and arms spread, offering the door to each other. After many offers, they entered with much solemnity, in the order Mr. Thrifty was so kind as to name them to me. But they are now got to my chamber door, and I saw my old friend Sir Harry enter. I met him with all the respect due to so reverend a vegetable; for you are to know, that is my sense of a person who remains idle in the same place for half a century. I got him with great success into his chair by the fire, without throwing down any of my cups. The knight-bachelor told me, he had a great respect for my whole family, and would, with my leave, place himself next to Sir Harry, at whose right hand he had sat at every Quarter Sessions this thirty years, unless he was sick. The steward in the rear whispered the young Templar, "That's true to my knowledge." I had the misfortune, as they stood cheek by jowl, to desire the simple squire to sit down beforethe Justice of the Quorum, to the no small satisfaction of the former, and resentment of the latter. But I saw my error too late, and got them as soon as I could into their seats. "Well," said I, "gentlemen, after I have told you how glad I am of this great honour, I am to desire you to drink a dish of tea." They answered one and all, that they never drank tea in a morning. "Not in a morning!" said I, staring round me. Upon which the pert jackanapes Nick Doubt tipped me the wink, and put out his tongue at his grandfather. Here followed a profound silence, when the steward, in his boots and whip, proposed, that we should adjourn to some public-house, where everybody might call for what they pleased, and enter upon the business. We all stood up in an instant, and Sir Harry filed off from the left very discreetly, countermarching behind the chairs towards the door: after him, Sir Giles in the same manner. The simple squire made a sudden start to follow; but the Justice of the Quorum whipped between upon the stand of the stairs. A maid going up with coals made us halt, and put us into such confusion, that we stood all in a heap, without any visible possibility of recovering our order; for the young jackanapes seemed to make a jest of this matter, and had so contrived, by pressing amongst us under pretence of making way, that his grandfather was got into the middle, and he knew nobody was of quality to stir a step till Sir Harry moved first. We were fixed in this perplexity for some time, till we heard a very loud noise in the street; and Sir Harry asking what it was, I, to make them move, said it was fire. Upon this, all ran down as fast as they could, without order or ceremony, till we got into the street, where we drew up in very good order, and filed off down Sheer Lane, the impertinentTemplar driving us before him, as in a string, and pointing to his acquaintance who passed by. I must confess I love to use people according to their own sense of good-breeding, and therefore whipped in between the Justice and the simple squire. He could not properly take this ill; but I overheard him whisper the steward, that he thought it hard that a common conjuror should take place of him, though an elder squire. In this order we marched down Sheer Lane, at the upper end of which I lodge.[245]When we came to Temple Bar, Sir Harry and Sir Giles got over; but a run of the coaches kept the rest of us on this side the street: however, we all at last landed, and drew up in very good order before Ben Tooke's[246]shop, who favoured our rallying with great humanity. From hence we proceeded again, till we came to Dick's Coffee-house,[247]where I designed to carry them. Here we were at our old difficulty, and took up the street upon the same ceremony. We proceeded through the entry, and were so necessarily kept in order by the situation, that we were now got into the coffee-house itself, where, as soon as we arrived, we repeated our civilities to each other; after which, we marched up to the high table, which has an ascent to it enclosed in the middle of the room. The whole room was alarmed at this entry, made up of persons of so much state and rusticity. SirHarry called for a mug of ale, and Dyer's Letter.[248]The boy brought the ale in an instant; but said, they did not take in the Letter. "No!" says Sir Harry: "then take back your mug; we are like indeed to have good liquor at this house." Here the Templar tipped me a second wink, and if I had not looked very grave upon him, I found he was disposed to be very familiar with me. In short, I observed after a long pause, that the gentlemen did not care to enter upon business till after their morning draught, for which reason I called for a bottle of mum[249]; and finding that had no effect upon them, I ordered a second, and a third: after which, Sir Harry reached over to me, and told me in a low voice, that the place was too public for business; but he would call upon me again to-morrow morning at my own lodgings, and bring some more friends with him.

Though this place is frequented by a more mixed company than it used to be formerly, yet you meet very often some whom one cannot leave without being the better for their conversation. A gentleman this evening, in a dictating manner, talked I thought very pleasingly in praise of modesty, in the midst of ten or twelve libertines, upon whom it seemed to have had a good effect. He represented it as the certain indication of a great and noble spirit. "Modesty," said he, "is the virtue which makes men prefer the public to their private interest, the guide of every honest undertaking, and the great guardian of innocence; it makes men amiable to their friends, and respected by their very enemies. In all places, and on all occasions, it attracts benevolence, and demands approbation. One might give instances out of antiquity[250]of the irresistible force of this quality in great minds: Cicereius, and Cneius Scipio, the son of the great Africanus, were competitors for the office of prætor. The crowd followed Cicereius, and left Scipio unattended. Cicereius saw this with much concern, and desiring an audience of the people, he descended from the place where the candidates were to sit, in the eye of the multitude, pleaded for his adversary, and with an ingenuous modesty (which it is impossible to feign) represented to them, how much it was to their dishonour, that a virtuous son of Africanus should not be preferred to him, or any other man whatsoever. This immediately gained the election for Scipio; but all the compliments and congratulations upon it were made to Cicereius. It is easier in this case to say who had the office, than the honour. There is no occurrence in life where this quality is not more ornamental than any other. After the battle of Pharsalia, Pompey marching towards Larissus, the whole people of that place came out in procession to do him honour. He thanked the magistrates for their respect to him; but desired them to perform these ceremonies to the conqueror. This gallant submission to his fortune, and disdain of making any appearance but like Pompey, was owing to his modesty, which would not permit him to be so disingenuous as to give himself the air of prosperity, when he was in the contrary condition. This I say of modesty, as it is the virtue which preserves a decorum in the general course of our life; but considering it also as it regards our mere bodies, it is the certain character of a great mind. It is memorable of the mighty Cæsar, that when he was murdered in the Capitol, at the very moment in which he expired, he gathered his robe about him, that he might fall in a decent posture. In this manner (says my author) he went off, not like a man that departed out of life, but a deity that returned to his abode."

Back to Index Next