Chapter V: Part 5

I came hither this evening, and expected nothing else but mutual congratulations in the company on the late victory; but found our room, which one would have hoped to have seen full of good humour and alacrity upon so glorious an occasion, full of sour animals, inquiring into the action, in doubt of what had happened, and fearful of the success of their countrymen. It is natural to believe easily what we wish heartily; and a certain rule, that they are not friends to a glad occasion, who speak all they can against the truth of it; who end their argument against our happiness, that they wish it otherwise. When I came into the room, a gentleman was declaiming; "If," says he, "we have so great and complete a victory, why have we not the names of the prisoners? Why is not an exact relation of the conduct of our generals laid before the world? Why do we not know where or whom to applaud? If we are victorious, why do we not give an account of our captives and our slain? But we are to be satisfied with general notices we are conquerors, and to believe it so. Sure this is approving the despotic way of treating the world, which we pretend to fight against, if we sit down satisfied with such contradictory accounts, which have the words of triumph, but do not bear the spirit of it." I whispered Mr. Greenhat Pray what can that dissatisfied man be?" "He is," answered he, "a character you have not yet perhaps observed. You have heard of battle-painters, have mentioned a battle-poet; but this is a battle-critic. He is a fellow that lives in a government so gentle, that though it sees him an enemy, suffers his malice because they know his impotence. He is to examine the weight of an advantage before the company will allow it." Greenhat was going on in his explanation, when Sir George England thought fit to take up the discourse in the following manner:

"Gentlemen, the action you are in so great doubt to approve of, is greater than ever has been performed in any age; and the value of it I observe from your dissatisfaction: for battle-critics are like all others; you are the more offended, the more you ought to be, and are convinced you ought to be, pleased. Had this engagement happened in the time of the old Romans, and such things been acted in their service, there would not be a foot of the wood which was pierced but had been consecrated to some deity, or made memorable by the death of him who expired in it for the sake of his country. It had on some monument at the entrance been said, 'Here the Duke of Argyle drew his sword, and said, March. Here Webb, after having an accomplished fame for gallantry, exposed himself like a common soldier. Here Rivet, who was wounded at the beginning of the day, and carried off as dead, returned to the field, and received his death.'[108] Medals had been struck for our general's behaviour when he first came into the plain. Here was the fury of the action, and here the hero stood as fearless as if invulnerable. Such certainly had been the cares of that state for their own honour, and in gratitude to their heroic subjects. But the wood entrenched, the plain made more impassable than the wood, and all the difficulties opposed to the most gallant army and most intrepid leaders that ever the sun shone upon, are treated by the talk of some in this room as objections to the merit of our general and our army; but," continued he, "I leave all the examination of this matter, and a proper discourse on our sense of public actions, to my friend Mr. Bickerstaff, who may let beaus and gamesters rest, till he has examined into the reasons of men's being malcontents in the only nation that suffers professed enemies to breathe in open air."

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 7._

The following letters are sent to me from relations; and though I do not know who and who are intended, I publish them. I have only written nonsense if there is nothing in them; and done a good action if they alarm any heedless men against the fraternity of the knights whom the Greeks call #Raskals#.[109]

"MR. BICKERSTAFF,

"It is taken very ill by several gentlemen here, that you are
so little vigilant as to let the dogs run from their kennels to
this place. Had you done your duty, we should have had notice
of their arrival; but the sharpers are now become so formidable
here, that they have divided themselves into nobles and commons.
Beau Bogg, beau Pert, Rake, and Tallboy are of their upper
house; broken captains, ignorant attorneys, and such other
bankrupts from industrious professions, compose their lower
order. Among these two sets of men, there happened here lately
some unhappy differences: Squire Humphry came down among us with
four hundred guineas. His raw appearance, and certain signals in
the good-natured muscles of Humphry's countenance, alarmed the
societies. For sharpers are as skilful as beggars in physiognomy,
and know as well where to hope for plunder, as the others to ask
for alms. Pert was the man exactly fitted for taking with Humphry
as a fine gentleman; for a raw fool is ever enamoured with his
contrary, a coxcomb; and a coxcomb is what the booby, who wants
experience, and is unused to company, regards as the first of men.
He ever looks at him with envy, and would certainly be such, if he
were not oppressed by his rusticity or bashfulness. There arose
an entire friendship by this sympathy between Pert and Humphry,
which ended in stripping the latter. We now could see this forlorn
youth for some days moneyless, without sword, and one day without
his hat, and with secret melancholy pining for his snuff-box; the
jest of the whole town, but most of those who robbed him. At last
fresh bills came down, when immediately their countenances cleared
up, ancient kindnesses and familiarity renewed, and to dinner he
was invited by the fraternity. You are to know, that while he was
in his days of solitude, a commoner who was excluded from his
share of the prey, had whispered the squire, that he was bit, and
cautioned him of venturing again. However, hopes of recovering his
snuff-box, which was given him by his aunt, made him fall to play
after dinner; yet mindful of what he was told, he saw something
that provoked him to tell them they were a company of sharpers.
Presently Tallboy fell on him, and being too hard at fisticuffs,
drove him out of doors. The valiant Pert followed, and kicked
him in his turn; which the squire resented, as being nearer his
match; so challenged him: but differing about time and place,
friends interposed (for he had still money left) and persuaded him
to ask pardon for provoking them to beat him, and they asked his
for doing it. The house consulting whence Humphry could have his
information, concluded it must be from some malicious commoner;
and to be revenged, beau Bogg watched their haunts, and in a
shop where some of them were at play with ladies, showed dice
which he found, or pretended to find upon them; and declaring how
false they were, warned the company to take care who they played
with. By his seeming candour, he cleared his reputation at least
to fools, and some silly women; but it was still blasted by the
squire's story with thinking men: however, he gained a great point
by it; for the next day he got the company shut up with himself
and fellow-members, and robbed them at discretion.

"I cannot express to you with what indignation I behold the noble
spirit of gentlemen degenerated to that of private cut-purses.
'Tis in vain to hope a remedy while so many of the fraternity get
and enjoy estates of twenty, thirty, and fifty thousand pounds
with impunity, creep into the best conversations, and spread the
infectious villainy through the nation, while the lesser rogues,
that rob for hunger or nakedness, are sacrificed by the blind, and
in this respect partial and defective law. Could you open men's
eyes against the occasion of all this, the great corrupter of our
manners and morality, the author of more bankrupts than the war,
and sure bane of all industry, frugality, and good nature; in a
word, of all virtues; I mean, public or private play at cards or
dice; how willingly would I contribute my utmost, and possibly
send you some memoirs of the lives and politics of some of the
fraternity of great figure, that might be of use to you in setting
this in a clear light against next session; that all who care for
their country or posterity, and see the pernicious effects of such
a public vice, may endeavour its destruction by some effectual
laws. In concurrence to this good design, I remain,

"Your humble Servant, &c.

"Bath, _Aug. 30_."

"MR. BICKERSTAFF,

_Friday, Sept. 2._

"I heartily join with you in your laudable design against the
myrmidons, as well as your late insinuations against coxcombs of
fire;[110] and I take this opportunity to congratulate you on the
success of your labours, which I observed yesterday in one of the
hottest firemen in town, who not only affects a soft smile, but
was seen to be thrice contradicted without showing any sign of
impatience. These, I say, so happy beginnings promise fair, and on
this account I rejoice you have undertaken to unkennel the curs;
a work of such use that I admire[111] it so long escaped your
vigilance; and exhort you, by the concern you have for the good
people of England, to pursue your design; and that these vermin
may not flatter themselves that they pass undiscovered, I desire
you'd acquaint Jack Haughty that the whole secret of his bubbling
his friend with the Swiss[112] at the Thatched House is well
known, as also his sweetening the knight; and I shall acknowledge
the favour.

"Your most humble Servant, &c."

FOOTNOTES:

[108] Colonel Rivet was one of the officers killed at the battle of Malplaquet. The Duke of Argyle received seven shots through his clothes, but was unhurt. General Webb, who distinguished himself by his victory at Wynendale in 1708, much to Marlborough's chagrin, was dangerously wounded at Malplaquet.

[109] Rascals. See No. 56.

[110] See No. 61.

[111] Wonder.

No. 66. [STEELE.

From _Thursday, Sept. 8_, to _Saturday, Sept. 10, 1709_.

_Will's Coffee-house, Sept. 9._[113]

The subject of the discourse this evening was Eloquence and Graceful Action. Lysander, who is something particular in his way of thinking and speaking, told us, a man could not be eloquent without action: for the deportment of the body, the turn of the eye, and an apt sound to every word that is uttered, must all conspire to make an accomplished speaker. Action in one that speaks in public, is the same thing as a good mien in ordinary life. Thus, as a certain insensibility in the countenance recommends a sentence of humour and jest, so it must be a very lively consciousness that gives grace to great sentiments. The jest is to be a thing unexpected; therefore your undesigning manner is a beauty in expressions of mirth; but when you are to talk on a set subject, the more you are moved yourself, the more you will move others. "There is," said he, "a remarkable example of that kind: Æschines, a famous orator of antiquity, had pleaded at Athens in a great cause against Demosthenes; but having lost it, retired to Rhodes. Eloquence was then the quality most admired among men; and the magistrates of that place having heard he had a copy of the speech of Demosthenes, desired him to repeat both their pleadings. After his own, he recited also the oration of his antagonist. The people expressed their admiration of both, but more of that of Demosthenes. 'If you are,' said he, 'thus touched with hearing only what that great orator said, how would you have been affected had you seen him speak? For he who hears Demosthenes only, loses much the better part of the oration.' Certain it is, that they who speak gracefully, are very lamely represented in having their speeches read or repeated by unskilful people; for there is something native to each man, so inherent to his thoughts and sentiments, which it is hardly possible for another to give a true idea of. You may observe in common talk, when a sentence of any man's is repeated, an acquaintance of his shall immediately observe, 'That is so like him, methinks I see how he looked when he said it.' But of all the people on the earth, there are none who puzzle me so much as the clergy of Great Britain, who are, I believe, the most learned body of men now in the world; and yet this art of speaking, with the proper ornaments of voice and gesture, is wholly neglected among them; and I'll engage, were a deaf man to behold the greater part of them preach, he would rather think they were reading the contents only of some discourse they intended to make, than actually in the body of an oration, even when they are upon matters of such a nature as one would believe it were impossible to think of without emotion. I own there are exceptions to this general observation, and that the Dean[114] we heard the other day together, is an orator. He has so much regard to his congregation, that he commits to his memory what he is to say to them; and has so soft and graceful a behaviour, that it must attract your attention. His person, it is to be confessed, is no small recommendation; but he is to be highly commended for not losing that advantage, and adding to the propriety of speech (which might pass the criticism of Longinus) an action which would have been approved by Demosthenes. He has a peculiar force in his way, and has many of his audience[115] who could not be intelligent hearers of his discourse, were there not explanation as well as grace in his action. This art of his is used with the most exact and honest skill. He never attempts your passions till he has convinced your reason. All the objections which he can form are laid open and dispersed, before he uses the least vehemence in his sermon; but when he thinks he has your head, he very soon wins your heart; and never pretends to show the beauty of holiness till he hath convinced you of the truth of it. Would every one of our clergymen be thus careful to recommend truth and virtue in their proper figures, and show so much concern for them as to give them all the additional force they were able, it is not possible that nonsense should have so many hearers as you find it has in dissenting congregations, for no reason in the world but because it is spoken extempore; for ordinary minds are wholly governed by their eyes and ears, and there is no way to come at their hearts but by power over their imaginations. There is my friend and merry companion Daniel:[116] he knows a great deal better than he speaks, and can form a proper discourse as well as any orthodox neighbour. But he knows very well, that to bawl out, My beloved! and the words, Grace! Regeneration! Sanctification! A new light! The day! the day! ay, my beloved, the day! or rather, the night! the night is coming! and judgment will come, when we least think of it! and so forth--he knows to be vehement is the only way to come at his audience. Daniel, when he sees my friend Greenhat come in, can give him a good hint, and cry out, This is only for the saints! the regenerated! By this force of action, though mixed with all the incoherence and ribaldry imaginable, Daniel can laugh at his diocesan, and grow fat by voluntary subscription, while the parson of the parish goes to law for half his dues. Daniel will tell you, it is not the shepherd, but the sheep with the bell, which the flock follows. Another thing very wonderful this learned body should omit, is, learning to read; which is a most necessary part of eloquence in one who is to serve at the altar: for there is no man but must be sensible, that the lazy tone and inarticulate sound of our common readers, depreciates the most proper form of words that were ever extant in any nation or language, to speak our own wants, or His power from whom we ask relief. There cannot be a greater instance of the power of action than in little Parson Dapper,[117] who is the common relief to all the lazy pulpits in town. This smart youth has a very good memory, a quick eye, and a clean handkerchief. Thus equipped, he opens his text, shuts his book fairly, shows he has no notes in his Bible, opens both palms, and shows all is fair there too. Thus, with a decisive air, my young man goes on without hesitation; and though, from the beginning to the end of his pretty discourse, he has not used one proper gesture, yet at the conclusion the church-warden pulls his gloves from off his head; 'Pray, who is this extraordinary young man?' Thus the force of action is such, that it is more prevalent, even when improper, than all the reason and argument in the world without it." This gentleman concluded his discourse by saying, "I do not doubt but if our preachers would learn to speak, and our readers to read, within six months' time we should not have a dissenter within a mile of a church in Great Britain."

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 9._

I have a letter from a young fellow who complains to me, that he was bred a mercer, and is now just out of his time, but unfortunately (for he has no manner of education suitable to his present estate) an uncle has left him £1000 per annum.

The young man is sensible that he is so spruce, that he fears he shall never be genteel as long as he lives, but applies himself to me, to know what method to take to help his air and be a fine gentleman. He adds, that several of those ladies who were formerly his customers, visit his mother on purpose to fall in his way, and fears he shall be obliged to marry against his will; "for," says he, "if any one of them should ask me, I shall not be able to deny her. I am," says he further, "utterly at a loss how to deal with them; for though I was the most pert creature in the world when I was foreman, and could hand a woman of the first quality to her coach, as well as her own gentleman-usher, I am now quite out of my way, and speechless in their company. They commend my modesty to my face. No one scruples to say, I should certainly make the best husband in the world, a man of my sober education. Mrs. Would-be watches all opportunities to be alone with me. Therefore, good Mr. Bickerstaff, here are my writings enclosed; if you can find any flaw in my title, so as it may go to the next heir, who goes to St. James's Coffee-house, and White's, and could enjoy it, I should be extremely well pleased with two thousand pounds to set up my trade, and live in a way I know I should become, rather than be laughed at all my life among too good company. If you could send for my cousin, and persuade him to take the estate on these terms, and let nobody know it, you would extremely oblige me."

Upon first sight, I thought this a very whimsical proposal; however, upon more mature consideration, I could not but admire the young gentleman's prudence and good sense; for there is nothing so irksome as living in a way a man knows he does not become. I consulted Mr. Obadiah Greenhat on this occasion, and he is so well pleased with the man, that he has half a mind to take the estate himself; but upon second thoughts he proposed this expedient. "I should be very willing," said he, "to keep the estate where it is, if we could make the young man any way easy; therefore I humbly propose he should take to drinking for one half-year, and make a sloven of him, and from thence begin his education anew: for it is a maxim, that one who is ill taught is in a worse condition than he who is wholly ignorant; therefore a spruce mercer is further off the air of a fine gentleman than a downright clown. To make our patient anything better, we must unmake him what he is." I indeed proposed to flux him; but Greenhat answered, that if he recovered, he would be as prim and feat as ever he was: therefore he would have it his way; and our friend is to drink till he is carbuncled, and tun-bellied; after which we will send him down to smoke, and be buried with his ancestors in Derbyshire. I am indeed desirous he should have his life in the estate, because he has such a just sense of himself and his abilities, to know that it is an unhappiness to him to be a man of fortune. This youth seems to understand, that a gentleman's life is that of all others the hardest to pass through with propriety of behaviour; for though he has a support without art or labour, yet his manner of enjoying that circumstance is a thing to be considered; and you see among men who are honoured with the common appellation of gentlemen, so many contradictions to that character, that it is the utmost ill-fortune to bear it: for which reason I am obliged to change the circumstances of several about this town. Harry Lacker is so very exact in his dress, that I shall give his estate to his younger brother, and make him a dancing master. Nokes Lightfoot is so nimble, and values himself so much upon it, that I have thoughts of making him huntsman to a pack of beagles, and give his land to somebody that will stay upon it.

Now I am upon the topic of becoming what we enjoy, I forbid all persons who are not of the first quality, or who do not bear some important office that requires so much distinction, to go to Hyde Park with six horses, for I cannot but esteem it the highest insolence: therefore hereafter no man shall do it merely because he is able, without any other pretension. But what may serve all purposes quite as well, it shall be allowed all such who think riches the chief distinction, to appear in the Ring[118] with two horses only, and a rent-roll hanging out of each side of their coach. This is a thought of Mr. Greenhat's, who designs very soon to publish a sumptuary discourse upon the subject of equipage, wherein he will give us rules on that subject, and assign the proper duties and qualifications of masters and servants, as well as that of husbands and wives; with a treatise of economy without doors, or the complete art of appearing in the world. This will be very useful to all who are suddenly rich, or are ashamed of being poor.

----_Sunt certa piacula, quæ te
Ter pure lecto poterunt recreare libello._[119]

I have notice of a new pack of dogs, of quite another sort than hitherto mentioned. I have not an exact account of their way of hunting, the following letter giving only a bare notice of them.

"SIR,

_September 7._

"There are another pack of dogs to be disposed of, who kennel
about Charing Cross, at the old Fat Dog's at the corner of
Buckingham Court,[120] near Spring Garden:[121] two of them are
said to be whelped in Alsatia,[122] now in ruins; but they, with
the rest of the pack, are as pernicious as if the old kennel had
never been broken down. The ancients distinguished this sort of
curs by the name of Hæredipetes,[123] the most pernicious of all
biters, for seizing young heirs, especially when their estates are
entailed, whom they reduce by one good bite to such a condition,
that they cannot ever after come to the use of their teeth, or
get smelling of a crust. You are desired to dispose of these as
soon as you can, that the breed may not increase; and your care in
tying them up will be acknowledged by,

"SIR,
Humble Servant,
PHILANTHROPOS."[124]

_St. James's Coffee-house, Sept. 9._

We have received letters from the Duke of Marlborough's camp, which bring us further particulars of the great and glorious victory obtained over the enemy on the 11th instant, N.S. The number of the wounded and prisoners is much greater than was expected from our first account. The day was doubtful till after twelve o'clock; but the enemy made little resistance after their first line on the left began to give way. An exact narration of the whole affair is expected next post. The French have had two days allowed them to bury their dead, and carry off their wounded men upon parole. Those regiments of Great Britain which suffered most, are ordered into garrison, and fresh troops commanded to march into the field. The States have also directed troops to march out of the towns, to relieve those who lost so many men in attacking the second entrenchment of the French in the plain between Sart and Jansart.

FOOTNOTES:

[112] Probably Heidegger. See No. 1.

[113] This article is printed in Scott's edition of Swift's Works. But Steele cites the character of Atterbury as evidence of his own impartiality (Preface to the _Tatler_); and the passage is quoted in his "Apology for Himself and his Writings" (1714), with a marginal note, "written by Mr. Steele himself." The bulk of this paper on Eloquence and Action may nevertheless be, and probably is, by Swift.

[114] Dr. Francis Atterbury (1662-1732), afterwards Bishop of Rochester (see Steele's Preface). He had been appointed Dean of Carlisle in 1704.

[115] At the chapel of Bridewell Hospital, where Atterbury was preacher for many years.

[116] Daniel Burgess (1645-1713), minister to a congregation of Independents in Carey Street, Lincoln's Inn. His meeting-house was wrecked by the Sacheverell mob in 1710. Tom Brown speaks of his "pop-gun way of delivery."

[117] Joseph Trapp, Professor of Poetry at Oxford, who published, in 1711, "A Character of the Present Set of Whigs." "Your new Lord Chancellor sets out to-morrow for Ireland. I never saw him. He carries over one Trapp, a parson, as his chaplain, a sort of pretender to wit, a second-rate pamphleteer for the cause, whom they pay by sending him to Ireland. I never saw Trapp neither." (Swift's "Journal," Jan. 7, 1711.)

[118] The Ring was a fashionable ride and promenade in Hyde Park, destroyed when the Serpentine was formed. It is often referred to in the _Spectator_. See Nos. 15, 73, &c.

[119] Horace, 1 Ep. i. 36.

[120] Buckingham Court, on the north side of the Admiralty, led into Spring Garden. One of its best known inhabitants was Duncan Campbell, the fortune-teller, whose life was written by Defoe.

[121] Spring Garden, between St. James's Park and Charing Cross, dates from the time of James I. The popular entertainments there provided were moved, after the Restoration, to the New Spring Garden at Vauxhall.

[122] A name given to the precinct of Whitefriars, a place of refuge for debtors. The privilege of sanctuary was abolished in 1697.

[123] Usurers who rob minors. See Moliere's "L'Avare," act ii., sec. I.

[124] Perhaps by John Hughes.

No. 67. [STEELE.

From _Saturday, Sept. 10, to Tuesday, Sept. 13, 1709_.

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 12._

No man can conceive, till he comes to try it, how great a pain it is to be a public-spirited person. I am sure I am unable to express to the world, how much anxiety I have suffered, to see of how little benefit my lucubrations have been to my fellow-subjects. Men will go on in their own way in spite of all my labour. I gave Mr. Didapper a private reprimand for wearing red-heeled shoes, and at the same time was so indulgent as to connive at him for fourteen days, because I would give him the wearing of them out; but after all this, I am informed, he appeared yesterday with a new pair of the same sort. I have no better success with Mr. Whatdee'call,[125] as to his buttons: Stentor[126] still roars; and box and dice rattle as loud as they did before I writ against them. Partridge[127] walks about at noonday, and Æsculapius[128] thinks of adding a new lace to his livery. However, I must still go on in laying these enormities before men's eyes, and let them answer for going on in their practice.

My province[129] is much larger than at first sight men would imagine, and I shall lose no part of my jurisdiction, which extends not only to futurity, but also is retrospect to things past; and the behaviour of persons who have long ago acted their parts, is as much liable to my examination as that of my own contemporaries.

In order to put the whole race of mankind in their proper distinctions, according to the opinion their cohabitants conceived of them, I have, with very much care, and depth of meditation, thought fit to erect a Chamber of Fame, and established certain rules, which are to be observed in admitting members into this illustrious society.

In this Chamber of Fame there are to be three tables, but of different lengths: the first is to contain exactly twelve persons; the second, twenty; the third, an hundred. This is reckoned to be the full number of those who have any competent share of fame. At the first of these tables are to be placed in their order the twelve most famous persons in the world, not with regard to the things they are famous for, but according to the degree of their fame, whether in valour, wit, or learning. Thus, if a scholar be more famous than a soldier, he is to sit above him. Neither must any preference be given to virtue, if the person be not equally famous.

When the first table is filled, the next in renown must be seated at the second, and so on in like manner to the number of twenty; as also in the same order at the third, which is to hold an hundred. At these tables no regard is to be had to seniority: for if Julius Cæsar shall be judged more famous than Romulus and Scipio, he must have the precedence. No person who has not been dead an hundred years must be offered to a place at any of these tables; and because this is altogether a lay society, and that sacred persons move upon greater motives than that of fame, no persons celebrated in Holy Writ, or any ecclesiastical men whatsoever, are to be introduced here.

At the lower end of the room is to be a side-table for persons of great fame, but dubious existence, such as Hercules, Theseus, Æneas, Achilles, Hector, and others. But because it is apprehended that there may be great contention about precedence, the proposer humbly desires the opinion of the learned towards his assistance in placing every person according to his rank, that none may have just occasion of offence.

The merits of the cause shall be judged by plurality of voices.

For the more impartial execution of this important affair, it is desired that no man will offer his favourite hero, scholar, or poet; and that the learned will be pleased to send to Mr. Bickerstaff, at Mr. Morphew's, near Stationers' Hall, their several lists for the first table only, and in the order they would have them placed; after which the composer will compare the several lists, and make another for the public, wherein every name shall be ranked according to the voices it has had. Under this chamber is to be a dark vault for the same number of persons of evil fame.

It is humbly submitted to consideration, whether the project would not be better if the persons of true fame meet in a middle room, those of dubious existence in an upper room, and those of evil fame in a lower dark room.

It is to be noted that no historians are to be admitted at any of these tables, because they are appointed to conduct the several persons to their seats, and are to be made use of as ushers to the assemblies.

I call upon the learned world to send me their assistance towards this design, it being a matter of too great moment for any one person to determine. But I do assure them, their lists shall be examined with great fidelity, and those that are exposed to the public, made with all the caution imaginable.

In the meantime, while I wait for these lists, I am employed in keeping people in a right way to avoid the contrary to fame and applause, to wit, blame and derision. For this end I work upon that useful project of the penny-post,[130] by the benefit of which it is proposed that a charitable society be established: from which society there shall go every day circular letters to all parts within the bills of mortality, to tell people of their faults in a friendly and private manner, whereby you may know what the world thinks of them, before it is declared to the world that they are thus faulty. This method cannot fail of universal good consequences: for it is further added, that they who will not be reformed by it, must be contented to see the several letters printed, which were not regarded by them, that when they will not take private reprehension, they may be tried further by a public one. I am very sorry I am obliged to print the following epistles of that kind to some persons, and the more because they are of the fair sex. This went on Friday last to a very fine lady.

"MADAM,

"I am highly sensible that there is nothing of so tender a nature
as the reputation and conduct of ladies; and that when there is
the least stain got into their fame, it is hardly ever to be
washed out. When I have said this, you will believe I am extremely
concerned to hear at every visit I make, that your manner of
wearing your hair is a mere affectation of beauty, as well as
that your neglect of powder has been a common evil to your sex.
It is to you an advantage to show that abundance of fine tresses;
but I beseech you to consider that the force of your beauty, and
the imitation of you, costs Eleonora great sums of money to her
tire-woman for false locks, besides what is allowed to her maid
for keeping the secret that she is grey. I must take leave to add
to this admonition, that you are not to reign above four months
and odd days longer. Therefore I must desire you to raise and
frizz your hair a little, for it is downright insolence to be thus
handsome without art; and you'll forgive me for entreating you to
do now out of compassion, what you must soon do out of necessity.
I am,

"Madam,
Your most obedient and most humble Servant."

This person dresses just as she did before I writ: as does also the lady to whom I addressed the following billet the same day:

"MADAM,

"Let me beg of you to take off the patches at the lower end of
your left cheek, and I will allow two more under your left eye,
which will contribute more to the symmetry of your face; except
you would please to remove the ten black atoms on your ladyship's
chin, and wear one large patch instead of them. If so, you may
properly enough retain the three patches above-mentioned. I am,
&c."

This, I thought, had all the civility and reason in the world in it; but whether my letters are intercepted, or whatever it is, the lady patches as she used to do. It is to be observed by all the charitable society, as an instruction in their epistles, that they tell people of nothing but what is in their power to mend. I shall give another instance of this way of writing: Two sisters in Essex Street are eternally gaping out of the window, as if they knew not the value of time, or would call in companions. Upon which I writ the following line:

"DEAR CREATURES,

"On the receipt of this, shut your casements."

But I went by yesterday, and found them still at the window. What can a man do in this case, but go on, and wrap himself up in his own integrity, with satisfaction only in this melancholy truth, that virtue is its own reward, and that if no one is the better for his admonitions, yet he is himself the more virtuous in that he gave those advices.

_St. James's Coffee-house, Sept. 12._

Letters of the 18th instant from the Duke of Marlborough's camp at Havre advise, that the necessary dispositions were made for opening the trenches before Mons. The direction of the siege is to be committed to the Prince of Orange, who designed to take his post accordingly with thirty battalions and thirty squadrons on the day following. On the 17th, Lieutenant-General Cadogan set out for Brussels, to hasten the ammunition and artillery which is to be employed in this enterprise; and the confederate army was extended from the Aisne to the Trouille, in order to cover the siege. The loss of the confederates in the late battle is not exactly known; but it appears by a list transmitted to the States-General, that the number of the killed and wounded in their service amounts to about eight thousand. It is computed that the English have lost 1500 men, and the rest of the allies about five thousand, including the wounded. The States-General have taken the most speedy and effectual measures for reinforcing their troops; and 'tis expected that in eight or ten days the army will be as numerous as before the battle. The affairs in Italy afford us nothing remarkable; only that it is hoped the difference between the Courts of Vienna and Turin will be speedily accommodated. Letters from Poland present us with a near prospect of seeing King Augustus re-established on the throne, all parties being very industrious to reconcile themselves to his interests.

_Will's Coffee-house, Sept. 12._

Of all the pretty arts in which our modern writers excel, there is not any which is more to be recommended to the imitation of beginners than the skill of transition from one subject to another. I know not whether I make myself well understood; but it is certain, that the way of stringing a discourse, used in the _Mercury Gallant_,[131] the _Gentleman's Journal_,[132] and other learned writings, not to mention how naturally things present themselves to such as harangue in pulpits, and other occasions which occur to the learned, are methods worthy commendation. I shall attempt this style myself in a few lines. Suppose I were discoursing upon the King of Sweden's passing the Boristhenes. The Boristhenes is a great river, and puts me in mind of the Danube and the Rhine. The Danube I cannot think of without reflecting on that unhappy prince who had such fair territories on the banks of it; I mean the Duke of Bavaria, who by our last letters is retired from Mons. Mons is as strong a fortification as any which has no citadel; and places which are not completely fortified, are, methinks, lessons to princes, that they are not omnipotent, but liable to the strokes of fortune. But as all princes are subject to such calamities, it is the part of men of letters to guard them from the observations of all small writers: for which reason I shall conclude my present remarks by publishing the following advertisement, to be taken notice of by all who dwell in the suburbs of learning.

"Whereas the King of Sweden has been so unfortunate to receive
a wound in his heel; we do hereby prohibit all epigrammatists
in either language, and both universities, as well as all other
poets, of what denomination soever, to make any mention of
Achilles having received his death's wound in the same part.

"We do likewise forbid all comparisons in coffee-houses between
Alexander the Great and the said King of Sweden, and from making
any parallels between the death of Patkul and Philotas;[133]
we being very apprehensive of the reflections that several
politicians have ready by them to produce on this occasion, and
being willing, as much as in us lies, to free the town from all
impertinences of this nature."

FOOTNOTES:

[125] See No. 21.

[126] See Nos. 54, 61.

[127] See Nos. 1, 56, 59.

[128] See Nos. 44, 47.

[129] A portion of this paper, commencing here, and ending with "all the caution imaginable" (p. 130), is printed in Scott's edition of Swift's Works, and was no doubt by the Dean. See No. 81, note.

[130] A penny postal system was established in London in 1683 by William Dockwra, a merchant, who was dismissed from his position as comptroller in 1700. In 1709, Charles Povey, a projector, started a halfpenny carriage of letters for the Metropolis, but in November the postmasters-general brought an action against him for an infringement of their monopoly, and Povey was fined £100.

[131] The _Mercure Gallant_ was published in 1673 and following years. A new periodical of the same name was begun in 1710.

[132] The _Gentleman's Journal; or, the Monthly Miscellany_, was published by Motteux between 1692 and 1694, in quarto.

No. 68. [STEELE.

From _Tuesday, Sept. 13_, to _Thursday, Sept. 15, 1709_.

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 14._[134]

The progress of our endeavours will of necessity be very much interrupted, except the learned world will please to send their lists to the chamber of fame[135] with all expedition. There is nothing can so much contribute to create a noble emulation in our youth, as the honourable mention of such whose actions have outlived the injuries of time, and recommended themselves so far to the world, that it is become learning to know the least circumstance of their affairs. It is a great incentive to see that some men have raised themselves so highly above their fellow-creatures; that the lives of ordinary men are spent in inquiries after the particular actions of the most illustrious. True it is, that without this impulse to fame and reputation, our industry would stagnate, and that lively desire of pleasing each other die away. This opinion was so established in the heathen world, that their sense of living appeared insipid, except their being was enlivened with a consciousness that they were esteemed by the rest of the world. Upon examining the proportion of men's fame for my table of twelve, I thought it no ill way, since I had laid it down for a rule, that they were to be ranked simply as they were famous, without regard to their virtue, to ask my sister Jenny's advice, and particularly mentioned to her the name of Aristotle. She immediately told me, he was a very great scholar, and that she had read him at the boarding-school. She certainly means a trifle sold by the hawkers, called "Aristotle's Problems." But this raised a great scruple in me, whether a fame increased by imposition of others is to be added to his account, or that these excrescences, which grow out of his real reputation, and give encouragement to others to pass things under the cover of his name, should be considered in giving him his seat in the chamber? This punctilio is referred to the learned. In the meantime, so ill-natured are mankind, that I believe I have names already sent me sufficient to fill up my lists for the dark room, and every one is apt enough to send in their accounts of ill deservers. This malevolence does not proceed from a real dislike of virtue, but a diabolical prejudice against it, which makes men willing to destroy what they care not to imitate. Thus you see the greatest characters among your acquaintance, and those you live with, are traduced by all below them in virtue, who never mention them but with an exception. However, I believe I shall not give the world much trouble about filling my tables for those of evil fame, for I have some thoughts of clapping up the sharpers there as fast as I can lay hold of them.

At present, I am employed in looking over the several notices which I have received of their manner of dexterity, and the way at dice of making all rugg,[136] as the cant is. The whole art of securing a die has lately been sent me by a person who was of the fraternity, but is disabled by the loss of a finger, by which means he cannot practise that trick as he used to do. But I am very much at a loss how to call some of the fair sex who are accomplices with the knights of industry; for my metaphorical dogs are easily enough understood; but the feminine gender of dog has so harsh a sound, that we know not how to name it. But I am credibly informed that there are female dogs as voracious as the males, and make advances to young fellows, without any other design but coming to a familiarity with their purses. I have also long lists of persons of condition, who are certainly of the same regimen with these banditti, and instrumental to their cheats upon undiscerning men of their own rank. These add their good reputation to carry on the impostures of others, whose very names would else be defence enough against falling into their hands. But for the honour of our nation, these shall be unmentioned, provided we hear no more of such practices, and that they shall not from henceforward suffer the society of such as they know to be the common enemies of order, discipline, and virtue. If it appear that they go on in encouraging them, they must be proceeded against according to severest rules of history, where all is to be laid before the world with impartiality, and without respect to persons.

_So let the stricken deer go weep._[137]

_Will's Coffee-house, September 14._

I find left here for me the following epistle:

"SIR,

"Having lately read your discourse about the family of
Trubies,[138] wherein you observe that there are some who fall
into laughter out of a certain benevolence in their temper, and
not out of the ordinary motive, viz., contempt and triumph over
the imperfections of others, I have conceived a good idea of your
knowledge of mankind. And as you have a tragi-comic genius, I beg
the favour of you to give us your thoughts of a quite different
effect, which also is caused by other motives than what are
commonly taken notice of. What I would have you treat of, is, the
cause of shedding tears. I desire you would discuss it a little,
with observations upon the various occasions which provoke us to
that expression of our concern, &c."