Chapter II: Part 2

The fate and character of the inconstant Osmyn, is a just excuse for the little notice taken by his widow, of his departure out of this life, which was equally troublesome to Elmira his faithful spouse, and to himself. That life passed between them after this manner, is the reason that the town has just now received a lady with all that gaiety, after having been a relict but three months, which other women hardly assume under fifteen after such a disaster. Elmira is the daughter of a rich and worthy citizen, who gave her to Osmyn with a portion which might have obtained her an alliance with our noblest houses, and fixed her in the eye of the world, where her story had not been now to be related: for her good qualities had made her the object of universal esteem among the polite part of mankind, from whom she has been banished and immured till the death of her gaoler. It is now full fifteen years since that beauteous lady was given into the hands of the happy Osmyn, who in the sense of all the world received at that time a present more valuable than the possession of both the Indies. She was then in her early bloom, with an understanding and discretion very little inferior to the most experienced matrons. She was not beholden to the charms of her sex, that her company was preferable to any Osmyn could meet with abroad; for were all she said considered, without regard to her being a woman, it might stand the examination of the severest judges: for she had all the beauty of her own sex, with all the conversation-accomplishments of ours. But Osmyn very soon grew surfeited with the charms of her person by possession, and of her mind by want of taste; for he was one of that loose sort of men, who have but one reason for setting any value on the fair sex, who consider even brides but as new women, and consequently neglect them when they cease to be such. All the merit of Elmira could not prevent her becoming a mere wife within few months after her nuptials; and Osmyn had so little relish for her conversation, that he complained of the advantages of it. "My spouse," said he to one of his companions, "is so very discreet, so good, so virtuous, and I know not what, that I think her person is rather the object of esteem than of love; and there is such a thing as a merit, which causes rather distance than passion." But there being no medium in the state of matrimony, their life began to take the usual gradations to become the most irksome of all beings. They grew in the first place very complaisant; and having at heart a certain knowledge that they were indifferent to each other, apologies were made for every little circumstance which they thought betrayed their mutual coldness. This lasted but few months, when they showed a difference of opinion in every trifle; and as a sign of certain decay of affection, the word "perhaps" was introduced in all their discourse. "I have a mind to go to the Park," says she; "but perhaps, my dear, you will want the coach on some other occasion." He would very willingly carry her to the play; but perhaps, she had rather go to Lady Centaur's[46] and play at ombre.[47] They were both persons of good discerning, and soon found that they mortally hated each other, by their manner of hiding it. Certain it is, that there are some genios which are not capable of pure affection, and a man is born with talents for it as much as for poetry or any other science. Osmyn began too late to find the imperfection of his own heart, and used all the methods in the world to correct it, and argue himself into return of desire and passion for his wife, by the contemplation of her excellent qualities, his great obligations to her, and the high value he saw all the world except himself did put upon her. But such is man's unhappy condition, that though the weakness of the heart has a prevailing power over the strength of the head, yet the strength of the head has but small force against the weakness of the heart. Osmyn therefore struggled in vain to revive departed desire; and therefore resolved to retire to one of his estates in the country, and pass away his hours of wedlock by the noble diversions of the field; and in the fury of a disappointed lover, made an oath, to leave neither stag, fox, nor hare living, during the days of his wife. Besides that country sports would be an amusement, he hoped also, that his spouse would be half killed by the very sense of seeing this town no more, and would think her life ended as soon as she left it. He communicated his design to Elmira, who received it (as now she did all things) like a person too unhappy to be relieved or afflicted by the circumstance of place. This unexpected resignation made Osmyn resolve to be as obliging to her as possible; and if he could not prevail upon himself to be kind, he took a resolution at least to act sincerely, and to communicate frankly to her the weakness of his temper, to excuse the indifference of his behaviour. He disposed his household in the way to Rutland, so as he and his lady travelled only in the coach for the convenience of discourse. They had not gone many miles out of town, when Osmyn spoke to this purpose:

"My dear, I believe I look quite as silly, now I am going to
tell you I do not love you, as when I first told you I did. We
are now going into the country together, with only one hope for
making this life agreeable, survivorship: desire is not in our
power; mine is all gone for you. What shall we do to carry it with
decency to the world, and hate one another with discretion?"

The lady answered without the least observation on the extravagance of his speech:

"My dear, you have lived most of your days in a Court, and I have not been wholly unacquainted with that sort of life. In Courts, you see good-will is spoken with great warmth, ill will covered with great civility. Men are long in civilities to those they hate, and short in expressions of kindness to those they love. Therefore, my dear, let us be well-bred still, and it is no matter, as to all who see us, whether we love or hate: and to let you see how much you are beholden to me for my conduct, I have both hated and despised you, my dear, this half year; and yet neither in language nor behaviour has it been visible but that I loved you tenderly. Therefore, as I know you go out of town to divert life in pursuit of beasts, and conversation with men just above them; so, my life, from this moment, I shall read all the learned cooks who have ever writ, study broths, plaisters, and conserves, till from a fine lady I become a notable woman. We must take our minds a note or two lower, or we shall be tortured by jealousy or anger. Thus I am resolved to kill all keen passions by employing my mind on little subjects, and lessening the easiness of my spirit; while you, my dear, with much ale, exercise, and ill company, are so good as to endeavour to be as contemptible as it is necessary for my quiet I should think you."

To Rutland they arrived, and lived with great, but secret impatience for many successive years, till Osmyn thought of a happy expedient to give their affairs a new turn. One day he took Elmira aside, and spoke as follows:

"My dear, you see here the air is so temperate and serene, the rivulets, the groves, and soil, so extremely kind to nature, that we are stronger and firmer in our health since we left the town; so that there is no hope of a release in this place: but if you will be so kind as to go with me to my estate in the Hundreds of Essex, it is possible some kind damp may one day or other relieve us. If you will condescend to accept of this offer, I will add that whole estate to your jointure in this county."

Elmira, who was all goodness, accepted the offer, removed accordingly, and has left her spouse in that place to rest with his fathers.

This is the real figure in which Elmira ought to be beheld in this town, and not thought guilty of an indecorum, in not professing the sense, or bearing the habit of sorrow, for one who robbed her of all the endearments of life, and gave her only common civility, instead of complacency of manners, dignity of passion, and that constant assemblage of soft desires and affections which all feel who love, but none can express.

_Will's Coffee-house, August 10._

Mr. Truman, who is a mighty admirer of dramatic poetry, and knows I am about a tragedy, never meets me, but he is giving admonitions and hints for my conduct. "Mr. Bickerstaff," said he, "I was reading last night your second act you were so kind to lend me; but I find you depend mightily upon the retinue of your hero to make him magnificent. You make guards, and ushers, and courtiers, and commons, and nobles, march before, and then enters your prince, and says they can't defend him from his love. Why, prithee Isaac, who ever thought they could? Place me your loving monarch in a solitude; let him have no sense at all of his grandeur, but let it be eaten up with his passion. He must value himself as the greatest of lovers, not as the first of princes: and then let him say a more tender thing than ever man said before--for his feather and eagle's beak is nothing at all. The man is to be expressed by his sentiments and affections, and not by his fortune or equipage. You are also to take care, that at his first entrance he says something which may give us an idea of what we are to expect in a person of his way of thinking. Shakespeare is your pattern."[48] In the tragedy of "Cæsar," he introduces his hero in his nightgown. He had at that time all the power of Rome: deposed consuls, subordinate generals, and captive princes, might have preceded him; but his genius was above such mechanic methods of showing greatness. Therefore he rather presents that great soul debating upon the subject of life and death with his intimate friends, without endeavouring to prepossess his audience with empty show and pomp. When those who attend him talk of the many omens which had appeared that day, he answers:

_Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come, when it will come.[49]_

When the hero has spoken this sentiment, there is nothing that is great which cannot be expected, from one whose first position is the contempt of death to so high a degree, as making his exit a thing wholly indifferent, and not a part of his care, but that of heaven and fate.

_St. James's Coffee-house, August 10._

Letters from Brussels of the 15th instant, N.S., say, that Major-General Ravignan returned on the 8th with the French king's answer to the intended capitulation for the citadel of Tournay; which is, that he does not think fit to sign that capitulation, except the Allies will grant a cessation of arms in general, during the time in which all acts of hostility were to have ceased between the citadel and the besiegers. Soon after the receipt of this news, the cannon on each side began to play. There are two attacks against the citadel, commanded by General Lottum and General Schuylemberg, which are both carried on with great success; and it is not doubted but the citadel will be in the hands of the Allies before the last day of this month. Letters from Ipres say, that on the 9th instant, part of the garrison of that place had mutinied in two bodies, each consisting of two hundred; who being dispersed the same day, a body of eight hundred appeared in the market-place at nine the night following, and seized all manner of provisions; but were with much difficulty quieted. The governor has not punished any of the offenders, the dissatisfaction being universal in that place; and it is thought, the officers foment those disorders; that the Ministry may be convinced of the necessity of paying those troops, and supplying them with provisions. These advices add, that on the 14th the Marquis d'Este passed express through Brussels from the Duke of Savoy, with advice, that the army of his royal highness had forced the retrenchments of the enemy in Savoy, and defeated that body of men which guarded those passes under the command of the Marquis de Thouy.

FOOTNOTES:

[45] Perhaps this article is by Addison; see note to No. 50.

[46] The name of a character in Jonson's "Silent Woman."

[47] A game of cards played by three persons, of which particulars will be found in Pope's "Rape of the Lock."

[48] In the _Spectator_, No. 42, Addison ridiculed the way in which dignity was sought for the hero on the stage by means of grand dresses and guards with halberts and battleaxes. "Can all the trappings or equipage of a king or hero give Brutus half that pomp and majesty which he receives from a few lines in Shakespeare?"

[49] "Julius Cæsar," act ii. sc. 2.

No. 54. [STEELE.

From _Thursday, August 11_, to _Saturday, August 13, 1709_.

_White's Chocolate-house, August 12._

_Of the Government of Affection._[50]

When labour was pronounced to be the portion of man, that doom reached the affections of his mind, as well as his person, the matter on which he was to feed, and all the animal and vegetable world about him. There is therefore an assiduous care and cultivation to be bestowed upon our passions and affections; for they, as they are the excrescences of our souls, like our hair and beards, look horrid or becoming, as we cut or let them grow. All this grave preface is meant to assign a reason in nature for the unaccountable behaviour of Duumvir,[51] the husband and keeper. Ten thousand follies had this unhappy man escaped, had he made a compact with himself to be upon his guard, and not permitted his vagrant eye to let in so many different inclinations upon him, as all his days he has been perplexed with. But indeed at present he has brought himself to be confined only to one prevailing mistress; between whom and his wife, Duumvir passes his hours in all the vicissitudes which attend passion and affection, without the intervention of reason. Laura his wife, and Phyllis his mistress, are all with whom he has had, for some months, the least amorous commerce. Duumvir has passed the noon of life; but cannot withdraw from those entertainments which are pardonable only before that stage of our being, and which after that season are rather punishments than satisfaction: for palled appetite is humorous, and must be gratified with sauces rather than food. For which end Duumvir is provided with an haughty, imperious, expensive, and fantastic mistress, to whom he retires from the conversation of an affable, humble, discreet, and affectionate wife. Laura receives him after absence with an easy and unaffected complacency; but that he calls insipid: Phyllis rates him for his absence, and bids him return from whence he came: this he calls spirit and fire. Laura's gentleness is thought mean; Phyllis' insolence, sprightly. Were you to see him at his own home, and his mistress's lodgings, to Phyllis he appears an obsequious lover, to Laura an imperious master. Nay, so unjust is the taste of Duumvir, that he owns Laura has no ill quality, but that she is his wife; Phyllis no good one, but that she is his mistress. And he has himself often said, were he married to any one else, he would rather keep Laura than any woman living; yet allows at the same time, that Phyllis, were she a woman of honour, would have been the most insipid animal breathing. The other day Laura, who has a voice like an angel, began to sing to him: "Fie, madam," he cried, "we must be past all these gaieties." Phyllis has a note as rude and as loud as that of a milkmaid: when she begins to warble, "Well," says he, "there is such a pleasing simplicity in all that wench does." In a word, the affectionate part of his heart being corrupted, and his true taste that way wholly lost, he has contracted a prejudice to all the behaviour of Laura, and a general partiality in favour of Phyllis. It is not in the power of the wife to do a pleasing thing, nor in the mistress to commit one that is disagreeable. There is something too melancholy in the reflection on this circumstance to be the subject of raillery. He said a sour thing to Laura at dinner the other day; upon which she burst into tears. "What the devil, madam," says he, "can't I speak in my own house?" He answered Phyllis a little abruptly at supper the same evening; upon which she threw his periwig into the fire. "Well," said he, "thou art a brave termagant jade; do you know, hussy, that fair wig cost forty guineas?" O Laura! is it for this that the faithful Chromius sighed for you in vain? How is thy condition altered, since crowds of youth hung on thy eye, and watched its glances? It is not many months since Laura was the wonder and pride of her own sex, as well as the desire and passion of ours. At plays and at balls, the just turn of her behaviour, the decency of her virgin charms, chastised, yet added to diversions. At public devotions, her winning modesty, her resigned carriage, made virtue and religion appear with new ornaments, and in the natural apparel of simplicity and beauty. In ordinary conversations, a sweet conformity of manners, and a humility which heightened all the complacencies of good breeding and education, gave her more slaves than all the pride of her sex ever made woman wish for. Laura's hours are now spent in the sad reflections on her choice, and that deceitful vanity (almost inseparable from the sex) of believing, she could reclaim one that had so often ensnared others; as it now is, it is not even in the power of Duumvir himself to do her justice: for though beauty and merit are things real, and independent on taste and opinion, yet agreeableness is arbitrary, and the mistress has much the advantage of the wife. But whenever fate is so kind to her and her spouse as to end her days, with all this passion for Phyllis, and indifference for Laura, he has a second wife in view, who may avenge the injuries done to her predecessor. Aglaura is the destined lady, who has lived in assemblies, has ambition and play for her entertainment, and thinks of a man, not as the object of love, but the tool of her interest or pride. If ever Aglaura comes to the empire of this inconstant, she will endear the memory of her predecessor. But in the meantime, it is melancholy to consider, that the virtue of a wife is like the merit of a poet, never justly valued till after death.

_From my own Apartment, August 11._

As we have professed, that all the actions of men are our subject, the most solemn are not to be omitted, if there happen to creep into their behaviour anything improper for such occasions. Therefore the offence mentioned in the following epistles (though it may seem to be committed in a place sacred from observation) is such, that it is our duty to remark upon it; for though he who does it is himself only guilty of an indecorum, he occasions a criminal levity in all others who are present at it.

* * * * *

"MR. BICKERSTAFF,

"It being mine, as well as the opinion of many others, that your papers are extremely well fitted to reform any irregular or indecent practice, I present the following as one which requires your correction. Myself, and a great many good people who frequent the divine service at St. Paul's, have been a long time scandalised by the imprudent conduct of Stentor[52] in that cathedral. This gentleman, you must know, is always very exact and zealous in his devotion, which, I believe, nobody blames; but then he is accustomed to roar and bellow so terribly loud in the responses, that he frightens even us of the congregation, who are daily used to him; and one of our petty canons, a punning Cambridge scholar,[53] calls his way of worship, a bull offering. His harsh untunable pipe is no more fit than a raven's to join with the music of a choir; yet nobody having been enough his friend, I suppose, to inform him of it, he never fails, when present, to drown the harmony of every hymn and anthem, by an inundation of sound beyond that of the bridge at the ebb of the tide, or the neighbouring lions in the anguish of their hunger. This is a grievance which, to my certain knowledge, several worthy people desire to see redressed; and if by inserting this epistle in your paper, or by representing the matter your own way, you can convince Stentor, that discord in a choir is the same sin that schism is in the Church in general, you would lay a great obligation upon us, and make some atonement for certain of your paragraphs which have not been highly approved by us. I am,

"Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
JEOFFRY CHANTICLEER.

"St. Paul's Churchyard, _August 11_."

It is wonderful there should be such a general lamentation, and the grievance so frequent, and yet the offender never know anything of it. I have received the following letter from my kinsman at the Heralds' Office, near the same place:

"DEAR COUSIN,

"This office, which has had its share in the impartial justice of
your censures, demands at present your vindication of their rights
and privileges. There are certain hours when our young heralds
are exercised in the faculties of making proclamation, and other
vociferations, which of right belong to us only to utter: but at
the same hours, Stentor in St. Paul's Church, in spite of the
coaches, carts, London cries, and all other sounds between us,
exalts his throat to so high a key, that the most noisy of our
order is utterly unheard. If you please to observe upon this, you
will ever oblige, &c."

There have been communicated to me some other ill consequences from the same cause; as, the overturning of coaches by sudden starts of the horses as they passed that way, women pregnant frightened, and heirs to families lost; which are public disasters, though arising from a good intention: but it is hoped, after this admonition, that Stentor will avoid an act of so great supererogation, as singing without a voice.

But I am diverted from prosecuting Stentor's reformation, by an account, that the two faithful lovers, Lysander and Coriana, are dead; for no longer ago than the 1st of the last month they swore eternal fidelity to each other, and to love till death. Ever since that time, Lysander has been twice a day at the chocolate-house, visits in every circle, is missing four hours in four and twenty, and will give no account of himself. These are undoubted proofs of the departure of a lover; and consequently Coriana is also dead as a mistress. I have written to Stentor to give this couple three calls at the church door, which they must hear if they are living within the bills of mortality; and if they do not answer at that time, they are from that moment added to the number of my defunct.[54]

FOOTNOTES:

[50] This article may be by Addison; see note to No. 50.

[51] It has been suggested that Duumvir is meant for the Duke of Ormond, and this view is supported by the MS. annotator mentioned in a note to No. 4. James Butler, second Duke of Ormond, married, at the age of eighteen, Anne, daughter of Lord Hyde, afterward Earl of Rochester. After her death in 1685 he married Lady Mary Somerset, daughter of Henry, first Duke of Beaufort. In 1711 he became Captain-General and Commander-in-Chief of the land forces, but after the accession of George I. he was impeached of high treason, and attainted. He died in exile in 1745.

[52] Dr. William Stanley, Dean of St. Asaph and Canon of St. Paul's, where he was buried on his death in 1731. The loudness of his voice is alluded to again in Nos. 56, 61, 67, 70, and 241.

[53] "Mr. C--l--n" (MS. note).--This was probably John Colson (1680-1760), who became Lucasian professor of mathematics in 1739. He is described by Cole, the antiquary, as "an humourist and peevish."

No. 55. [STEELE.

From _Saturday, August 13_, to _Tuesday, August 16, 1709_.

----Paulo majora canamus.--VIRG., Ecl. iv. 1.

* * * * *

_White's Chocolate-house, August 15._

While others are busied in relations which concern the interests of princes, the peace of nations, and revolutions of empire, I think (though these are very large subjects) my theme of discourse is sometimes to be of matters of a yet higher consideration. The slow steps of Providence and Nature, and strange events which are brought about in an instant, are what, as they come within our view and observation, shall be given to the public. Such things are not accompanied with show and noise, and therefore seldom draw the eyes of the unattentive part of mankind; but are very proper at once to exercise our humanity, please our imaginations, and improve our judgments. It may not therefore be unuseful to relate many circumstances, which were observable upon a late cure done upon a young gentleman who was born blind, and on the 29th of June last received his sight at the age of twenty years, by the operation of an oculist. This happened no farther off than Newington, and the work was prepared for in the following manner: The operator, Mr. Grant,[55] having observed the eyes of his patient, and convinced his friends and relations, among others the Rev. Mr. Caswell, minister of the place, that it was highly probable he should remove the obstacle which prevented the use of his sight; all his acquaintance, who had any regard for the young man, or curiosity to be present when one of full age and understanding received a new sense, assembled themselves on this occasion. Mr. Caswell[56] being a gentleman particularly curious, desired the whole company, in case the blindness should be cured, to keep silence, and let the patient make his own observations, without the direction of anything he had received by his other senses, or the advantage of discovering his friends by their voices. Among several others, the mother, brethren, sisters, and a young gentlewoman for whom he had a passion, were present. The work was performed with great skill and dexterity. When the patient first received the dawn of light, there appeared such an ecstasy in his action, that he seemed ready to swoon away in the surprise of joy and wonder. The surgeon stood before him with his instruments in his hand. The young man observed him from head to foot; after which he surveyed himself as carefully, and seemed to compare him to himself; and observing both their hands, seemed to think they were exactly alike, except the instruments, which he took for parts of his hands. When he had continued in this amazement some time, his mother could not longer bear the agitations of so many passions as thronged upon her, but fell upon his neck, crying out, "My son! my son!" The youth knew her voice, and could speak no more than, "Oh me! are you my mother?" and fainted. The whole room, you will easily conceive, were very affectionately employed in recovering him; but above all, the young gentlewoman who loved him, and whom he loved, shrieked in the loudest manner. That voice seemed to have a sudden effect upon him as he recovered, and he showed a double curiosity in observing her as she spoke and called to him; till at last he broke out, "What has been done to me? Whither am I carried? Is all this about me, the thing I have heard so often of? Is this the light? Is this seeing? Were you always thus happy, when you said you were glad to see each other? Where is Tom, who used to lead me? But I could now, methinks, go anywhere without him." He offered to move, but seemed afraid of everything around him. When they saw his difficulty, they told him, till he became better acquainted with his new being, he must let the servant still lead him. The boy was called for, and presented to him. Mr. Caswell asked him, what sort of thing he took Tom to be before he had seen him. He answered, he believed there was not so much of him as of himself; but he fancied him the same sort of creature. The noise of this sudden change made all the neighbourhood throng to the place where he was. As he saw the crowd thickening, he desired Mr. Caswell to tell him how many there were in all to be seen. The gentleman, smiling, answered him, that it would be very proper for him to return to his late condition, and suffer his eyes to be covered, till they had received strength; for he might remember well enough, that by degrees he had from little and little come to the strength he had at present in his ability of walking and moving; and that it was the same thing with his eyes, which, he said, would lose the power of continuing to him that wonderful transport he was now in, except he would be contented to lay aside the use of them, till they were strong enough to bear the light without so much feeling, as he knew he underwent at present. With much reluctance he was prevailed upon to have his eyes bound, in which condition they kept him in a dark room, till it was proper to let the organ receive its objects without further precaution. During the time of this darkness, he bewailed himself in the most distressed manner, and accused all his friends, complaining, that some incantation had been wrought upon him, and some strange magic used to deceive him into an opinion, that he had enjoyed what they called sight. He added, that the impressions then let in upon his soul would certainly distract him, if he were not so at that present. At another time he would strive to name the persons he had seen among the crowd after he was couched, and would pretend to speak (in perplexed terms of his own making) of what he in that short time observed, But on the 6th instant it was thought fit to unbind his head, and the young woman whom he loved was instructed to open his eyes accordingly, as well to endear herself to him by such a circumstance, as to moderate his ecstasies by the persuasion of a voice, which had so much power over him as hers ever had. When this beloved young woman began to restore him, she talked to him as follows:

"Mr. William, I am now taking the binding off, though when I consider what I am doing, I tremble with the apprehension, that (though I have from my very childhood loved you, dark as you were, and though you had conceived so strong a love for me) yet you will find there is such a thing as beauty, which may ensnare you into a thousand passions of which you now are innocent, and take you from me for ever. But before I put myself to that hazard, tell me in what manner that love you always professed to me entered into your heart; for its usual admission is at the eyes."

The young man answered, "Dear Lydia, if I am to lose by sight the soft pantings which I have always felt when I heard your voice; if I am no more to distinguish the step of her I love when she approaches me, but to change that sweet and frequent pleasure for such an amazement as I knew the little time I lately saw: or if I am to have anything besides, which may take from me the sense I have of what appeared most pleasing to me at that time (which apparition it seems was you): pull out these eyes, before they lead me to be ungrateful to you, or undo myself. I wished for them but to see you; pull them out, if they are to make me forget you."

* * * * *

Lydia was extremely satisfied with these assurances; and pleased herself with playing with his perplexities. In all his talk to her, he showed but very faint ideas of anything which had not been received at the ear; and closed his protestation to her by saying, that if he were to see Valentia and Barcelona, whom he supposed the most esteemed of all women, by the quarrel there was about them, he would never like any but Lydia.

_St. James's Coffee-house, August 15._

We have repeated advices of the entire defeat of the Swedish army near Pultowa[57] on the 27th June, O.S., and letters from Berlin give the following account of the remains of the Swedish army since the battle: Prince Menzikoff being ordered to pursue the victory, came up with the Swedish army (which was left to the command of General Lewenhaupt) on the 30th of June, O.S., on the banks of the Boristhenes; whereupon he sent General Lewenhaupt a summons to submit to his present fortune: Lewenhaupt immediately despatched three general officers to that prince, to treat about a capitulation; but the Swedes, though they consisted of 15,000 men, were in so great want of provision and ammunition, that they were obliged to surrender themselves at discretion. His Czarish Majesty despatched an express to General Goltz, with an account of these particulars, and also with instructions to send out detachments of his cavalry to prevent the King of Sweden's joining his army in Poland. That prince made his escape with a small party by swimming over the Boristhenes; and it was thought, he designed to retire into Poland by the way of Volhinia. Advices from Berne of the 11th instant say, that the General Diet of the Helvetic Body held at Baden concluded on the 6th; but the deputies of the six cantons, who are deputed to determine the affair of Tockenburg, continue their application to that business, notwithstanding some new difficulties started by the Abbot of St. Gall. Letters from Geneva of the 9th say, that the Duke of Savoy's cavalry had joined Count Thaun, as had also two Imperial regiments of hussars; and that his royal highness's army was disposed in the following manner: the troops under the command of Count Thaun are extended from Constans to St. Peter de Albigni. Small parties are left in several posts from thence to Little St. Bernard, to preserve the communication with Piedmont by the Valley of Aosta. Some forces are also posted at Taloir, and in the Castle of Doin, on each side of the Lake of Anneci. General Rhebinder is encamped in the Valley of Oulx with 10,000 foot, and some detachments of horse: his troops are extended from Exilles to Mount Genevre, so that he may easily penetrate into Dauphine on the least motion of the enemy; but the Duke of Berwick takes all necessary precautions to prevent such an enterprise. That General's headquarters are at Francin; and he hath disposed his army in several parties, to preserve a communication with the Maurienne and Briançon. He hath no provisions for his army but from Savoy; Provence and Dauphine being unable to supply him with necessaries. He left two regiments of dragoons at Annen, who suffered very much in the late action at Tessons, where they lost 1500 who were killed on the spot, 4 standards, and 300 prisoners, among whom were 40 officers. The last letters from the Duke of Marlborough's camp at Orchies of the 19th instant advise, that Monsieur Ravignan being returned from the French Court with an account, that the King of France refused to ratify the capitulation for the surrender of the citadel of Tournay, the approaches have been carried on with great vigour and success: our miners have discovered several of the enemy's mines, who have sprung divers others, which did little execution; but for the better security of the troops, both assaults are carried on by the cautious way of sapping. On the 18th, the confederate army made a general forage without any loss. Marshal Villars continues in his former camp, and applies himself with great diligence in casting up new lines behind the old on the Scarp. The Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene designed to begin a general review of the army on the 20th.

FOOTNOTES:

[54] "Deceased" (folio).

[55] Roger Grant was sworn oculist and operator in ordinary to Queen Anne, September 27, 1710; and on the death of Sir William Read, he was sworn oculist in ordinary to George I. in 1715 (_Weekly Packet_, No. 159). He died in 1724. A pamphlet, published in 1709, price 2d., called, "A full and true Account of a Miraculous Cure of a Young Man in Newington, that was born Blind, and was in Five Minutes brought to perfect Sight. By Mr. Roger Grant, Oculist," was in reality intended to expose Grant as an impostor. William Jones, son of Annabella Jones, of Newington, Surrey, was, in the twentieth year of his age, couched by Grant, on June 19, 1709. On Sunday, July 24, he went, we are told, to the parish church of St. Mary, Newington, and requested the minister to offer up thanks for his recovery; and next day he and his mother went to the minister to ask him to certify a statement to the effect that Jones was born blind and now had his sight very well. The minister objected to doing this, although Jones and his mother urged that Grant would charge for the cure if they did not get the certificate. The pamphlet states that at last they got the minister's signature forged, and then Grant published the certificate in the _Daily Courant_ for July 30, 1709. On August 16 another paper came out, stating that the minister was present at the operation. The minister told all who made inquiries the truth; that the boy was not born blind, but only with an imperfection in his sight; and that now he saw very little with the left eye, and not at all with the right. On August 8, Grant got the mother to make an affidavit respecting her son's blindness and cure before a magistrate. This affidavit is printed in the "British Apollo," vol. ii. No. 91 (January 20 to 23, 1710). The following advertisement is taken from the same periodical, vol. ii. No. 39 (August 5 to 10, 1709): "As it would be no less disrespectful and injurious to the public, to conceal the merits of Mr. Grant, oculist; therefore, we, the Minister, Churchwardens, and Overseers of the poor of the parish of St. Mary, Newington Butts, do certify, that William Jones, of the same parish, aged twenty years, who was born blind, on his application to Mr. Grant aforesaid, who dwells in St. Christopher's Court, behind the Royal Exchange, was by him couched on Wednesday, June 29, 1709, and by the blessing of God, on the skilful hand of Mr. Grant, the said Jones, in five minutes' time, was brought to see, and at this time hath his sight very well. This case being so particularly remarkable, and gratisly performed, we do, therefore, give this public testimony under our hands, this 25th of July, 1709.--Minister, William Taswell; Churchwardens, James Comber, William Dale; Overseers, Francis Trosse, William Benskin, Walker Wood, John Ship." The Jones case is included in a list of Grant's cures, "Account of some Cures," &c., printed on a folio sheet which is supposed to have been issued in 1713 (Brit. Mus. 1830, c. (18)). The pamphleteer from whom I have quoted, adds that Grant was bred up a cobbler, or, as some say, a tinker; and he was an Anabaptist preacher. Nichols says that "Grant seems to have been more ingenious and reputable than most of his brother and sister oculists; but, if we may judge from his very numerous advertisements, he was not less vain, or less indelicate." A correspondent of the _Spectator_ (see No. 472) bore testimony to the benefit he had himself derived from Grant, and said that many blind persons had been cured.

[56] Dr. William Taswell (here called Caswell), king's scholar at Westminster, was elected student of Christ Church in 1670. He became M.A. in 1677, B.D. in 1685, and D.D. in 1698.

[57] Charles XII. of Sweden was defeated by the Czar at Pultowa in July 1709, and was wounded by a musket-ball in the heel. After the defeat of his army he crossed the Boristhenes with three hundred men. Two thousand Swedes under General Lewenhaupt surrendered to Prince Menzikoff on the banks of the Boristhenes after the battle. Charles XII. sought refuge among the Turks, and retired to Bender.

No. 56. [STEELE.

From _Tuesday, August 16_, to _Thursday, August 18, 1709_.

Quicquid agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli.

JUV., Sat. I. 85, 86.

_White's Chocolate-house, August 17._

There is a young foreigner committed to my care, who puzzles me extremely in the questions he asks about the persons of figure we meet in public places. He has but very little of our language, and therefore I am mightily at a loss to express to him things, for which they have no word in that tongue to which he was born. It has been often my answer, upon his asking, who such a fine gentleman is? that he is what we call a "sharper," and he wants my explication. I thought it would be very unjust to tell him, he is the same the French call Coquin; the Latins, Nebulo; or the Greeks, #Raskal#.[58] For as custom is the most powerful of all laws, and that the order of men we call sharpers are received amongst us, not only with permission, but favour, I thought it unjust to use them like persons upon no establishment. Besides that, it would be an unpardonable dishonour to our country, to let him leave us with an opinion, that our nobility and gentry kept company with common thieves and cheats; I told him, they were a sort of tame hussars that were allowed in our cities, like the wild ones in our camp, who had all the privileges belonging to us, but at the same time were not tied to our discipline or laws. Aletheus, who is a gentleman of too much virtue for the age he lives in, would not let this matter be thus palliated, but told my pupil, that he was to understand, that distinction, quality, merit, and industry, were laid aside amongst us by the incursions of these civil hussars, who had got so much countenance, that the breeding and fashion of the age turned their way to the ruin of order and economy in all places where they are admitted. But Sophronius, who never falls into heat upon any subject, but applies proper language, temper, and skill, with which the thing in debate is to be treated, told the youth, that gentleman had spoken nothing, but what was literally true; but fell upon it with too much earnestness to give a true idea of that sort of people he was declaiming against, or to remedy the evil which he bewailed: for the acceptance of these men being an ill which hath crept into the conversation part of our lives, and not into our constitution itself, it must be corrected where it began, and consequently is to be amended only by bringing raillery and derision upon the persons who are guilty, or converse with them. "For the sharpers," continued he, "at present are not as formerly, under the acceptation of pickpockets; but are by custom erected into a real and venerable body of men, and have subdued us to so very particular a deference to them, that though they are known to be men without honour or conscience, no demand is called a debt of honour so indisputably as theirs. You may lose your honour to them, but they lay none against you: as the priesthood in Roman Catholic countries can purchase what they please for the Church, but they can alienate nothing from it. It is from this toleration, that sharpers are to be found among all sorts of assemblies and companies, and every talent amongst men is made use of by some one or other of the society for the good of their common cause: so that an unexperienced young gentleman is as often ensnared by his understanding as his folly: for who could be unmoved, to hear the eloquent Dromio explain the constitution, talk in the key of Cato, with the severity of one of the ancient sages, and debate the greatest question of State in a common chocolate or coffee-house; who could, I say, hear this generous declamator, without being fired at his noble zeal, and becoming his professed follower, if he might be admitted. Monoculus'[59] gravity would be no less inviting to a beginner in conversation, and the snare of his eloquence would equally catch one who had never seen an old gentleman so very wise, and yet so little severe. Many other instances of extraordinary men among the brotherhood might be produced; but every man who knows the town, can supply himself with such examples without their being named." Will. Vafer, who is skilful at finding out the ridiculous side of a thing, and placing it in a new and proper light (though he very seldom talks), thought fit to enter into this subject. He has lately lost certain loose sums, which half the income of his estate will bring in within seven years: besides which, he proposes to marry to set all right. He was therefore indolent enough to speak of this matter with great impartiality. "When I look round me," said this easy gentleman, "and consider in a just balance us bubbles, elder brothers, whose support our dull fathers contrived to depend upon certain acres; with the rooks, whose ancestors left them the wide world; I cannot but admire their fraternity, and contemn my own. Is not Jack Heyday much to be preferred to the knight he has bubbled? Jack has his equipage, his wenches, and his followers: the knight so far from a retinue, that he is almost one of Jack's. However, he is gay, you see, still; a florid outside--his habit speaks the man--and since he must unbutton, he would not be reduced outwardly, but is stripped to his upper coat. But though I have great temptation to it, I will not at this time give the history of the losing side, but speak the effects of my thoughts, since the loss of my money, upon the gaining people. This ill fortune makes most men contemplative and given to reading; at least it has happened so to me; and the rise and fall of the family of sharpers in all ages has been my contemplation."

* * * * *

I find, all times have had of this people; Homer, in his excellent heroic poem, calls them Myrmidons, who were a body who kept among themselves, and had nothing to lose; therefore never spared either Greek or Trojan, when they fell in their way, upon a party. But there is a memorable verse which gives us an account of what broke that whole body, and made both Greeks and Trojans masters of the secret of their warfare and plunder. There is nothing so pedantic as many quotations; therefore I shall inform you only, that in this battalion there were two officers called Thersites and Pandarus; they were both less renowned for their beauty than their wit; but each had this particular happiness, that they were plunged over head and ears in the same water, which made Achilles invulnerable; and had ever after certain gifts which the rest of the world were never to enjoy. Among others, they were never to know they were the most dreadful to the sight of all mortals, never to be diffident of their own abilities, never to blush, or ever to be wounded but by each other. Though some historians say, gaming began among the Lydians to divert hunger, I could cite many authorities to prove it had its rise at the siege of Troy; and that Ulysses won the sevenfold shield at hazard. But be that as it may, the ruin of the corps of the myrmidons proceeded from a breach between Thersites and Pandarus. The first of these was leader of a squadron, wherein the latter was but a private man; but having all the good qualities necessary for a partisan, he was the favourite of his officer. But the whole history of the several changes in the order of sharpers, from those myrmidons to our modern men of address and plunder, will require that we consult some ancient manuscripts. As we make these inquiries, we shall diurnally communicate them to the public, that the knights of the industry may be better understood by the good people of England. These sort of men in some ages, were sycophants and flatterers only, and were endued with arts of life to capacitate them for the conversation of the rich and great; but now the bubble courts the impostor, and pretends at the utmost to be but his equal. To clear up the reasons and causes in such revolutions, and the alteration of conduct between fools and cheats, shall be one of our labours for the good of this kingdom. How therefore pimps, footmen, fiddlers, and lackeys, are elevated into companions in this present age, shall be accounted for from the influence of the planet Mercury[60] on this island; the ascendency of which sharper over Sol, who is a patron of the Muses, and all honest professions, has been noted by the learned Job Gadbury[61] to be the cause, that cunning and trick are more esteemed than art and science. It must be allowed also, to the memory of Mr. Partridge, late of Cecil Street in the Strand, that in his answer to an horary question, at what hour of the night to set a foxtrap in June 1705, he has largely discussed, under the character of Reynard, the manner of surprising all sharpers as well as him. But of these great points, after more mature deliberation.

_St. James's Coffee-house, August 17._

"_To Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq._

"SIR,

"We have nothing at present new, but that we understand by some owlers,[62] old people die in France. Letters from Paris of the 10th instant, N.S., say, that Monsieur d'André Marquis d'Oraison died at 85; Monsieur Brumars, at 102 years, died for love of his wife, who was 92 at her death, after seventy years' cohabitation. Nicolas de Boutheiller, parish preacher of Sasseville, being a bachelor, held out till 116. Dame Claude de Massy, relict of Monsieur Peter de Monceaux, Grand Audiencer of France, died on the 7th instant, aged 107. Letters of the 17th say, Monsieur Chrestien de Lamoignon died on the 7th instant, a person of great piety and virtue; but having died young, his age is concealed for reasons of State. On the 15th his most Christian Majesty, attended by the Dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, the Duke and Duchess of Berry, assisted at the procession which he yearly performs, in memory of a vow made by Lewis XIII. 1638: for which act of piety, his Majesty received absolution of his confessor, for the breach of all inconvenient vows made by himself. I am,

"Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
HUMPHREY KIDNEY."[63]

_From my own Apartment, August 17._