Chapter III: Part 3

I am to acknowledge several letters which I have lately received; among others, one subscribed "Philanthropis," another "Emilia," both which shall be honoured. I have a third from an officer of the army, wherein he desires I would do justice to the many gallant actions which have been done by men of private characters, or officers of lower stations, during this long war; that their families may have the pleasure of seeing we lived in an age wherein men of all orders had their proper share in fame and glory. There is nothing I should undertake with greater pleasure than matter of this kind: if therefore they who are acquainted with such facts, would please to communicate them, by letter directed to me at Mr. Morphew's, no pains should be spared to put them in a proper and distinguishing light.

* * * * *

This is to admonish Stentor,[64] that it was not admiration of his voice, but my publication of it, which has lately increased the number of his hearers.

FOOTNOTES:

[58] "Rascal," in Greek letters.

[59] See No. 36.

[60] Mercury was the god of thieves.

[61] An astrologer and almanac maker, who died in 1715. John Gadbury, an older astrologer, was his master.

[62] Persons who carry contraband goods.

[63] A waiter; see No. 1.

[64] See No. 54.

No. 57. [STEELE.

From _Thursday, August 18_, to _Saturday, August 20, 1709_.

Quicquid agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli.

JUV., Sat. I. 85, 86.

_Will's Coffee-house, August 19._

I was this evening representing a complaint sent me out of the country from Emilia. She says, her neighbours there have so little sense of what a refined lady of the town is, that she, who was a celebrated wit in London, is in that dull part of the world in so little esteem, that they call her in their base style a tongue-pad. Old Truepenny bid me advise her to keep her wit till she comes to town again, and admonish her, that both wit and breeding are local; for a fine Court lady is as awkward among country housewives, as one of them would appear in a drawing-room. It is therefore the most useful knowledge one can attain at, to understand among what sort of men we make the best figure; for if there be a place where the beauteous and accomplished Emilia is unacceptable, it is certainly a vain endeavour to attempt pleasing in all conversations. Here is Will. Ubi, who is so thirsty after the reputation of a companion, that his company is for anybody that will accept of it; and for want of knowing whom to choose for himself, is never chosen by others. There is a certain chastity of behaviour which makes a man desirable, and which, if he transgresses, his wit will have the same fate with Delia's beauty, which no one regards, because all know it is within their power. The best course Emilia can take, is, to have less humility; for if she could have as good an opinion of herself for having every quality, as some of her neighbours have of themselves with one, she would inspire even them with a sense of her merit, and make that carriage (which is now the subject of their derision) the sole object of their imitation. Till she has arrived at this value of herself, she must be contented with the fate of that uncommon creature, a woman too humble.

_White's Chocolate-house, August 19._

Since my last, I have received a letter from Tom Trump, to desire that I would do the fraternity of gamesters the justice to own, that there are notorious sharpers who are not of their class. Among others, he presented me with the picture of Harry Coppersmith in little, who (he says) is at this day worth half a plum,[65] by means much more indirect than by false dice. I must confess, there appeared some reason in what he asserted; and he met me since, and accosted me in the following manner: "It is wonderful to me, Mr. Bickerstaff, that you can pretend to be a man of penetration, and fall upon us knights of the industry as the wickedest of mortals, when there are so many who live in the constant practice of baser methods unobserved. You cannot (though you know the story of myself and the North Briton) but allow I am an honester man than Will. Coppersmith, for all his great credit among the Lombards. I get my money by men's follies, and he gets his by their distresses. The declining merchant communicates his griefs to him, and he augments them by extortion. If therefore regard is to be had to the merit of the persons we injure, who is the more blamable, he that oppresses an unhappy man, or he that cheats a foolish one? All mankind are indifferently liable to adverse strokes of fortune; and he who adds to them, when he might relieve them, is certainly a worse subject, than he who unburdens a man whose prosperity is unwieldy to him. Besides all which, he that borrows of Coppersmith, does it out of necessity; he that plays with me, does it out of choice." I allowed Trump there are men as bad as himself, which is the height of his pretensions; and must confess, that Coppersmith is the most wicked and impudent of all sharpers: a creature that cheats with credit, and is a robber in the habit of a friend. The contemplation of this worthy person made me reflect on the wonderful successes I have observed men of the meanest capacities meet with in the world, and recollected an observation I once heard a sage man make, which was, that he had observed, that in some professions, the lower the understanding, the greater the capacity. I remember, he instanced that of a banker, and said, "That the fewer appetites, passions, and ideas a man had, he was the better for his business." There is little Sir Tristram,[66] without connection in his speech, or so much as common sense, has arrived by his own natural parts at one of the greatest estates amongst us. But honest Sir Tristram knows himself to be but a repository for cash: he is just such a utensil as his iron chest, and may rather be said to hold money, than possess it. There is nothing so pleasant as to be in the conversation of these wealthy proficients. I had lately the honour to drink half a pint with Sir Tristram, Harry Coppersmith, and Giles Twoshoes. These wags give one another credit in discourse according to their purses; they jest by the pound, and make answers as they honour bills. Without vanity, I thought myself the prettiest fellow of the company; but I had no manner of power over one muscle in their faces, though they sneered at every word spoken by each other. Sir Tristram called for a pipe of tobacco; and telling us tobacco was a pot-herb, bid the drawer bring in the other half-pint. Twoshoes laughed at the knight's wit without moderation. I took the liberty to say, it was but a pun. "A pun!" says Coppersmith: "you would be a better man by £10,000 if you could pun like Sir Tristram." With that, they all burst out together. The queer curs maintained this style of dialogue till we had drunk our quarts apiece by half-pints. All I could bring away with me, is, that Twoshoes is not worth £20,000; for his mirth, though he was as insipid as either of the others, had no more effect upon the company, than if he had been a bankrupt.

_From my own Apartment, August 19._

I have heard, it has been advised by a Diocesan to his inferior clergy, that instead of broaching opinions of their own, and uttering doctrines which may lead themselves and hearers into errors, they would read some of the most celebrated sermons printed by others for the instruction of their congregations. In imitation of such preachers at second-hand, I shall transcribe from Bruyère one of the most elegant pieces of raillery and satire which I have ever read. He describes the French, as if speaking of a people not yet discovered, in the air and style of a traveller.

* * * * *

"I have heard talk of a country where the old men are gallant, polite and civil: the young men, on the contrary, stubborn, wild, without either manners or civility. They are free from passion for women, at the age when in other countries they begin to feel it; and prefer beasts, victuals, and ridiculous amours, before them. Amongst these people, he is sober who is never drunk with anything but wine; the too frequent use of it has rendered it flat and insipid to them: they endeavour by brandy, and other strong liquors, to quicken their taste, already extinguished, and want nothing to complete their debauches, but to drink aqua fortis. The women of that country hasten the decay of their beauty, by their artifices to preserve it: they paint their cheeks, eyebrows, and shoulders, which they lay open, together with their breasts, arms and ears, as if they were afraid to hide those places which they think will please, and never think they show enough of them. The physiognomies of the people of that country are not at all neat, but confused and embarrassed with a bundle of strange hair, which they prefer before their natural: with this they weave something to cover their heads, which descends half-way down their bodies, hides their features, and hinders you from knowing men by their faces. This nation has besides this, their God and their king. The grandees go every day at a certain hour to a temple they call a church: at the upper end of that temple there stands an altar consecrated to their God, where the priest celebrates some mysteries which they call holy, sacred and tremendous. The great men make a vast circle at the foot of the altar, standing with their backs to the priest and the holy mysteries, and their faces erected towards their king, who is seen on his knees upon a throne, and to whom they seem to direct the desires of their hearts, and all their devotion. However, in this custom there is to be remarked a sort of subordination; for the people appear adoring their prince and their prince adoring God. The inhabitants of this region call it----It is from forty-eight degrees of latitude, and more than eleven hundred leagues by sea, from the Iroquois and Hurons."

* * * * *

Letters from Hampstead[67] say, there is a coxcomb arrived there, of a kind which is utterly new. The fellow has courage, which he takes himself to be obliged to give proofs of every hour he lives. He is ever fighting with the men, and contradicting the women. A lady who sent him to me, superscribed him with this description out of Suckling:

"_I am a man of war and might,
And know thus much, that I can fight,
Whether I am in the wrong or right,
Devoutly._

"_No woman under heaven I fear,
New oaths I can exactly swear;
And forty healths my brains will bear,
Most stoutly._"

FOOTNOTES:

[65] A plum is £100,000.

[66] Sir Francis Child, according to the annotator mentioned in a note to No. 4. Sir Francis Child, the founder of the banking-house, was elected Lord Mayor in 1698, and was afterwards M.P. for the City and for Devizes. He died in 1713.

[67] Hampstead was quite a health resort, with chalybeate springs. The following advertisement appeared in No. 201: "A consort of music will be performed in the Great Room at Hampstead, this present Saturday, the 22nd inst., at the desire of the gentlemen and ladies living in and near Hampstead, by the best masters. Several of the opera songs, by a girl of nine years, a scholar of Mr. Tenoe's, who never performed in public, but once at York Buildings, with very good success. To begin exactly at five, for the conveniency of gentlemen's returning. Tickets to be had only at the Wells, at 2_s._ 6_d._ each. For the benefit of Mr. Tenoe."

No. 58. [STEELE.

From _Saturday, August 20_, to _Tuesday, August 23, 1709_.

_White's Chocolate-house, August 22._

Poor Cynthio[68] (who does me the honour to talk to me now and then very freely of his most secret thoughts, and tells me his most private frailties) owned to me, that though he is in his very prime of life, love had killed all his desires, and he was now as much to be trusted with a fine lady, as if he were eighty. "That one passion for Clarissa has taken up," said he, "my whole soul, and all my idle flames are extinguished, as you may observe, ordinary fires are often put out by the sunshine." This was a declaration not to be made, but upon the highest opinion of a man's sincerity; yet as much a subject of raillery as such a speech would be, it is certain, that chastity is a nobler quality, and as much to be valued in men as in women. The mighty Scipio, who (as Bluffe[69] says in the comedy) was a pretty fellow in his time, was of this mind, and is celebrated for it by an author of good sense. When he lived, wit, and humour, and raillery, and public success, were at as high a pitch in Rome, as at present in England; yet I believe, there was no man in those days thought that general at all ridiculous in his behaviour in the following account of him: Scipio, at four and twenty years of age,[70] had obtained a great victory, and a multitude of prisoners of each sex, and all conditions, fell into his possession: among others, an agreeable virgin in her early bloom and beauty. He had too sensible a spirit to see the most lovely of all objects without being moved with passion: besides which, there was no obligation of honour or virtue to restrain his desires towards one who was his by the fortune of war. But a noble indignation, and a sudden sorrow, which appeared in her countenance, when a conqueror cast his eyes upon her, raised his curiosity to know her story. He was informed, that she was a lady of the highest condition in that country, and contracted to Indibilis, a man of merit and quality. The generous Roman soon placed himself in the condition of that unhappy man, who was to lose so charming a bride; and though a youth, a bachelor, a lover, and a conqueror, immediately resolved to resign all the invitations of his passion, and the rights of his power, to restore her to her destined husband. With this purpose he commanded her parents and relations, as well as her husband, to attend him at an appointed time. When they met, and were waiting for the general, my author frames to himself the different concern of an unhappy father, a despairing lover, and a tender mother, in the several persons who were so related to the captive. But for fear of injuring the delicate circumstances with an old translation, I shall proceed to tell you, that Scipio appears to them, and leads in his prisoner into their presence. The Romans (as noble as they were) seemed to allow themselves a little too much triumph over the conquered; therefore, as Scipio approached, they all threw themselves on their knees, except the lover of the lady: but Scipio observing in him a manly sullenness, was the more inclined to favour him, and spoke to him in these words: "It is not the manner of the Romans to use all the power they justly may: we fight not to ravage countries, or break through the ties of humanity; I am acquainted with your worth, and your interest in this lady: fortune has made me your master; but I desire to be your friend. This is your wife; take her, and may the gods bless you with her. But far be it from Scipio to purchase a loose and momentary pleasure at the rate of making an honest man unhappy." Indibilis' heart was too full to make him any answer, but he threw himself at the feet of the general and wept aloud. The captive lady fell into the same posture, and they both remained so till the father burst into the following words: "O divine Scipio! The gods have given you more than human virtue. O glorious leader! O wondrous youth! Does not that obliged virgin give you, while she prays to the gods for your prosperity, and thinks you sent down from them, raptures, above all the transports which you could have reaped from the possession of her injured person?" The temperate Scipio answered him without much emotion, and, saying, "Father, be a friend to Rome," retired. An immense sum was offered as her ransom; but he sent it to her husband, and smiling, said, "This is a trifle after what I have given him already; but let Indibilis know, that chastity at my age is a much more difficult virtue to practise than generosity." I observed, Cynthio was very much taken with my narrative; but told me, this was a virtue that would bear but a very inconsiderable figure in our days. However I took the liberty to say, that we ought not to lose our ideas of things, though we had debauched our true relish in our practice. For after we have done laughing, solid virtue will keep its place in men's opinions: and though custom made it not so scandalous as it ought to be, to ensnare innocent women, and triumph in the falsehood; such actions as we have here related, must be accounted true gallantry, and rise the higher in our esteem, the farther they are removed from our imitation.

_Will's Coffee-house, August 22._

A man would be apt to think in this laughing town, that it were impossible a thing so exploded as speaking hard words should be practised by any one that had ever seen good company; but as if there were a standard in our minds as well as bodies, you see very many just where they were twenty years ago, and more they cannot, will not arrive at. Were it not thus, the noble Martius would not be the only man in England whom nobody can understand, though he talks more than any man else, Will. Dactyle the epigrammatist, Jack Comma the grammarian, Nick Cross-grain who writes anagrams, and myself, made a pretty company at a corner of this room, and entered very peaceably upon a subject fit enough for us; which was, the examination of the force of the particle "for," when Martius joined us. He being well known to us all, asked what we were upon? For he had a mind to consummate the happiness of the day, which had been spent among the stars of the first magnitude, among the men of letters; and therefore, to put a period to it, as he had commenced it, he should be glad to be allowed to participate of the pleasure of our society. I told him the subject. "Faith, gentlemen," said Martius, "your subject is humble; and if you would give me leave to elevate the conversation, I should humbly offer, that you would enlarge your inquiries to the word 'forasmuch': for though I take it," said he, "to be but one word; yet, the particle 'much' implying quantity, the particle 'as' similitude, it will be greater, and more like ourselves, to treat of 'forasmuch.'" Jack Comma is always serious, and answered, "Martius, I must take the liberty to say, that you have fallen into all this error and profuse manner of speech by a certain hurry in your imagination, for want of being more exact in the knowledge of the parts of speech; and it is so with all men who have not well studied the particle 'for.' You have spoken 'for' without making any inference, which is the great use of that particle. There is no manner of force in your observation of quantity and similitude in the syllables 'as' and 'much.' But it is ever the fault of men of great wit to be incorrect; which evil they run into by an indiscreet use of the word 'for.' Consider all the books of controversy which have been written, and I'll engage you will observe, that all the debate lies in this point, whether they brought in 'for' in a just manner, or forced it in for their own use, rather than as understanding the use of the word itself? There is nothing like familiar instances: you have heard the story of the Irishman, who reading, 'Money for Live Hair,' took a lodging and expected to be paid for living at that house. If this man had known 'for' was in that place, of a quite different signification from the particle 'to,' he could not have fallen into the mistake of taking 'live' for what the Latins call _vivere_, or rather _habitare_" Martius seemed at a loss; and admiring his profound learning, wished he had been bred a scholar, for he did not take the scope of his discourse. This wise debate, of which we had much more, made me reflect upon the difference of their capacities, and wonder that there could be as it were a diversity in men's genius for nonsense; that one should bluster, while another crept in absurdities. Martius moves like a blind man, lifting his legs higher than the ordinary way of stepping; and Comma, like one who is only short-sighted, picking his way when he should be marching on. Want of learning makes Martius a brisk entertaining fool, and gives himself a full scope; but that which Comma has, and calls learning, makes him diffident, and curb his natural misunderstanding, to the great loss of the men of raillery. This conversation confirmed me in the opinion, that learning usually does but improve in us what nature endowed us with. He that wants good sense, is unhappy in having it, for he has thereby only more ways of exposing himself; and he that has sense, knows that learning is not knowledge, but rather the art of using it.

_St. James's Coffee-house, August 22._

We[71] have undoubted intelligence of the defeat of the King of Sweden; and that prince (who for some years had hovered like an approaching tempest, and was looked up at by all the nations of Europe, which seemed to expect their fate according to the course he should take), is now, in all probability, an unhappy exile, without the common necessaries of life. His Czarish Majesty treats his prisoners with great gallantry and distinction. Count Rheinsfeldt has had particular marks of his Majesty's esteem, for his merit and services to his master; but Count Piper, whom his Majesty believes author of the most violent councils into which his prince entered, is disarmed and entertained accordingly. That decisive battle was ended at nine in the morning, and all the Swedish generals dined with the Czar that very day, and received assurances that they should find Muscovy was not unacquainted with the laws of honour and humanity.

FOOTNOTES:

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

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

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

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

No. 59. [STEELE.

From _Tuesday, August 23_, to _Thursday, August 25, 1709_.

_White's Chocolate-house, August 24._

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

_Will's Coffee-house, August 24._

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

"SIR,

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

"Your most humble Servant,
OBADIAH GREENHAT."

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

_Scimus, et hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim._[74]

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

_St. James's Coffee-house, August 24._

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

FOOTNOTES:

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

[73] See No. 57.

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

No. 60. [STEELE.[75]

From _Thursday, August 25_, to _Saturday, August 27_, 1709.

_White's Chocolate-house, August 26._

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

"SIR,

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

"Yours,
HUMPHREY WILDAIR."

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

"HONOURED FATHER,

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

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

_Will's Coffee-house, August 26._

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

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

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

_From my own Apartment, August 26._

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

_Just ready for the Press_,

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

* * * * *

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

FOOTNOTES:

[75] See No. 56.

[76] See No. 57.

[77] This "lake of love" (No. 170) was a sheet of water in the south-west corner of St. James's Park, "long consecrated," as Warburton says, "to disastrous love and elegiac poetry." It is frequently mentioned in plays of the time as a place of assignation. See Pope's "Rape of the Lock":

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

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

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

[79] See Nos. 28, 41.

No. 61. [STEELE.

From _Saturday, August 27_, to _Tuesday, August 30, 1709_.

_White's Chocolate-house, August 29._

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

_Will's Coffee-house, August 29._

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