Chapter VI: Part 6

To obey this complaisant gentleman, I know no way so short as examining the various touches of my own bosom, on several occurrences in a long life, to the evening of which I am arrived, after as many various incidents as anybody has met with. I have often reflected, that there is a great similitude in the motions of the heart in mirth and in sorrow; and I think the usual occasion of the latter, as well as the former, is something which is sudden and unexpected. The mind has not a sufficient time to recollect its force, and immediately gushes into tears before we can utter ourselves by speech or complaint. The most notorious causes of these drops from our eyes, are pity, sorrow, joy, and reconciliation. The fair sex, who are made of man, and not of earth, have a more delicate humanity than we have, and pity is the most common cause of their tears: for as we are inwardly composed of an aptitude to every circumstance of life, and everything that befalls any one person might have happened to any other of human race, self-love, and a sense of the pain we ourselves should suffer in the circumstances of any whom we pity, is the cause of that compassion. Such a reflection in the breast of a woman immediately inclines her to tears; but in a man, it makes him think how such a one ought to act on that occasion, suitable to the dignity of his nature. Thus a woman is ever moved for those whom she hears lament, and a man for those whom he observes to suffer in silence. It is a man's own behaviour in the circumstances he is under which procures him the esteem of others, and not merely the affliction itself which demands our pity: for we never give a man that passion which he falls into for himself. He that commends himself never purchases our applause; nor he who bewails himself, our pity. Going through an alley the other day, I observed a noisy impudent beggar bawl out, that he was wounded in a merchantman, that he had lost his poor limbs, and showed a leg clouted up. All that passed by, made what haste they could out of sight and hearing. But a poor fellow at the end of the passage, with a rusty coat, a melancholy air, and a soft voice, desired them to look upon a man not used to beg. The latter received the charity of almost every one that went by. The strings of the heart, which are to be touched to give us compassion, are not so played on but by the finest hand. We see in tragical representations it is not the pomp of language, or magnificence of dress, in which the passion is wrought that touches sensible spirits, but something of a plain and simple nature which breaks in upon our souls, by that sympathy which is given us for our mutual good-will and service.[139] In the tragedy of "Macbeth," where Wilks[140] acts the part of a man whose family has been murdered in his absence, the wildness of his passion, which is run over in a torrent of calamitous circumstances, does but raise my spirits, and give me the alarm; but when he skilfully seems to be out of breath, and is brought too low to say more, and upon a second reflection, cry, only wiping his eyes, "What, both children! Both, both my children gone!" there is no resisting a sorrow which seems to have cast about for all the reasons possible for its consolation, but has no recourse. There is not one left, but both, both are murdered![141] Such sudden starts from the thread of the discourse, and a plain sentiment expressed in an artless way, are the irresistible strokes of eloquence and poetry. The same great master, Shakespeare, can afford us instances of all the places where our souls are accessible, and ever commands our tears; but it is to be observed, that he draws them from some unexpected source, which seems not wholly of a piece with the discourse. Thus when Brutus and Cassius had a debate in the tragedy of "Cæsar," and rose to warm language against each other, insomuch that it had almost come to something that might be fatal, till they recollected themselves; Brutus does more than make an apology for the heat he had been in, by saying, "Porcia is dead."[142] Here Cassius is all tenderness, and ready to dissolve, when he considers that the mind of his friend had been employed on the greatest affliction imaginable, when he had been adding to it by a debate on trifles; which makes him in the anguish of his heart cry out, "How scaped I killing when I thus provoked you?"[143] This is an incident which moves the soul in all its sentiments; and Cassius's heart was at once touched with all the soft pangs of pity, remorse, and reconciliation. It is said indeed by Horace, "If you would have me weep, you must first weep yourself."[144] This is not literally true, for it would have been as rightly said, if we observe nature, that I shall certainly weep if you do not; but what is intended by that expression is, that it is not possible to give passion except you show that you suffer yourself. Therefore the true art seems to be, that when you would have the person you represent pitied, you must show him at once, in the highest grief and struggling, to bear it with decency and patience. In this case, we sigh for him, and give him every groan he suppresses.[145] I remember, when I was young enough to follow the sports of the field, I have more than once rode off at the death of a deer, when I have seen the animal in an affliction which appeared human without the least noise, let fall tears when he was reduced to extremity; and I have thought of the sorrow I saw him in when his haunch came to the table. But our tears are not given only to objects of pity, but the mind has recourse to that relief on all occasions which give us much emotion. Thus, to be apt to shed tears is a sign of a great as well as little spirit. I have heard say, the present Pope[146] never passes through the people, who always kneel in crowds and ask his benediction, but the tears are seen to flow from his eyes. This must proceed from an imagination that he is the father of all those people, and that he is touched with so extensive a benevolence that it breaks out into a passion of tears. You see friends, who have been long absent, transported in the same manner: a thousand little images crowd upon them at their meeting, as all the joys and griefs they have known during their separation; and in one hurry of thought, they conceive how they should have participated in those occasions, and weep, because their minds are too full to wait the slow expression of words.

_His lacrimis vitam damus, et miseressimus ultro._[147]

There is lately broke loose from the London Pack[148] a very tall dangerous biter. He is now at the Bath, and it is feared will make a damnable havoc amongst the game. His manner of biting is new, and called the Top. He secures one die betwixt his two fingers: the other is fixed by the help of a famous wax invented by an apothecary, since a gamester; a little of which he puts upon his forefinger, and that holds the die in the box at his devotion. Great sums have been lately won by these ways; but it is hoped that this hint of his manner of cheating will open the eyes of many who are every day imposed upon.

* * * * *

There is now in the press, and will be suddenly published, a book entitled "An Appendix to the Contempt of the Clergy,"[149] wherein will be set forth at large, that all our dissensions are owing to the laziness of persons in the sacred ministry, and that none of the present schisms could have crept into the flock but by the negligence of the pastors. There is a digression in this treatise, proving that the pretences made by the priesthood from time to time that the Church was in danger, is only a trick to make the laity passionate for that of which they themselves have been negligent. The whole concludes with an exhortation to the clergy, to the study of eloquence, and practice of piety, as the only method to support the highest of all honours, that of a priest, who lives and acts according to his character.

FOOTNOTES:

[133] Philotas, son of Parmenion, was one of the generals of Alexander the Great. He was arrested for treason, made a confession under torture, and was stoned before the troops. Jean Reinhold de Patkul (1660-1707), a Livonian nobleman in disgrace at the Swedish Court, found his way to King Augustus, in Poland, and was charged with having instigated that monarch to attack Livonia. When a treaty of peace was drawn up, Charles XII. made the surrender of Patkul one of the conditions; and after much delay he was handed over to General Meyerfeldt, and broken upon the wheel in October 1707. In the _Review_ for August 20, 1709, Defoe criticised the conduct of Charles XII. in this matter, and said that since his barbarous action he had had no success. He paid dear for the blood of Patkul.

[134] This article is printed in Scott's edition of Swift's Works.

[135] See No. 67.

[136] See No. 39.

[137] "Why, let the stricken deer go weep" ("Hamlet," act iii. sc. 2, l. 282.)

[138] See No. 63.

[139] _Cf._ No. 47.

[140] See No. 19.

[141] "Julius Cæsar," act iv. sc. 3.

[142] Steevens brought forward the fact that the author of the _Tatler_ here quotes from Davenant's alteration of Shakespeare's play as an argument to prove how little Shakespeare was read. De Quincey made some excellent remarks on this subject in his "Life of Shakespeare." ("Encyclopædia Britannica," 7th ed.)

[143] "How scaped I killing when I crossed you so?" ("Julius Cæsar," act iv. sc. 3.)

[144] _Ars Poetica_, 102.

[145] "There is no criticism of Shakespeare in that day at all comparable to this of Steele's, at the outset and to the close of the _Tatler_. With no set analysis or fine-spun theory, but dropped only here and there, and from time to time with a careless grace, it is yet of the subtlest discrimination.... He ranks him as high in philosophy as in poetry, and in the ethics of human life and passion quotes his authority as supreme. None but Steele then thought of criticising him in that strain." (Forster.)

[146] Clement XI.

[147] Virgil, "Æneid," ii. 145.

[148] See No. 56, &c.

[149] "The Grounds and Occasion of the Contempt of the Clergy and Religion Inquired into" was published by Dr. John Eachard in 1670.

No. 69. [STEELE.

From _Thursday, Sept. 15_, to _Saturday, Sept. 17, 1709_.

----Quid oportet
Nos facere, a vulgo longe latèque remotos?

HOR., 1 Sat. vi. 18.

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 16._

It is, as far as it relates to our present being, the great end of education to raise ourselves above the vulgar; but what is intended by the vulgar, is not, methinks, enough understood. In me, indeed, that word raises a quite different idea from what it usually does in others; but perhaps that proceeds from my being old, and beginning to want the relish of such satisfactions as are the ordinary entertainment of men. However, such as my opinion is in this case, I will speak it; because it is possible that turn of thought may be received by others, who may reap as much tranquillity from it as I do myself. It is to me a very great meanness, and something much below a philosopher, which is what I mean by a gentleman, to rank a man among the vulgar for the condition of life he is in, and not according to his behaviour, his thoughts and sentiments, in that condition. For if a man be loaded with riches and honours, and in that state of life has thoughts and inclinations below the meanest artificer; is not such an artificer, who within his power is good to his friends, moderate in his demands for his labour, and cheerful in his occupation, very much superior to him who lives for no other end but to serve himself, and assumes a preference in all his words and actions to those who act their part with much more grace than himself? Epictetus has made use of the similitude of a stage-play to human life with much spirit. "It is not," says he, "to be considered among the actors, who is prince, or who is beggar, but who acts prince or beggar best."[150] The circumstance of life should not be that which gives us place, but our behaviour in that circumstance is what should be our solid distinction. Thus, a wise man should think no man above him or below him, any further than it regards the outward order and discipline of the world: for if we take too great an idea of the eminence of our superiors, or subordination of our inferiors, it will have an ill effect upon our behaviour to both. But he who thinks no man above him but for his virtue, none below him but for his vice, can never be obsequious or assuming in a wrong place, but will frequently emulate men in rank below him, and pity those above him. This sense of mankind is so far from a levelling principle, that it only sets us upon a true basis of distinction, and doubles the merit of such as become their condition. A man in power, who can, without the ordinary prepossessions which stop the way to the true knowledge and service of mankind, overlook the little distinctions of fortune, raise obscure merit, and discountenance successful indesert,[151] has, in the minds of knowing men, the figure of an angel rather than a man, and is above the rest of men in the highest character he can be, even that of their benefactor. Turning my thoughts as I was taking my pipe this evening after this manner, it was no small delight to me to receive advice from Felicia,[152] that Eboracensis was appointed a governor of one of their plantations.[153] As I am a great lover of mankind, I took part in the happiness of that people who were to be governed by one of so great humanity, justice, and honour. Eboracensis has read all the schemes which writers have formed of government and order, and been long conversant with men who have the reins in their hands; so that he can very well distinguish between chimerical and practical politics. It is a great blessing (when men have to deal with such different characters in the same species as those of free-men and slaves) that they who command have a just sense of human nature itself, by which they can temper the haughtiness of the master, and soften the servitude of the slave. "Hæ tibi erunt artes."[154] This is the notion with which those of the plantation receive Eboracensis: and as I have cast his nativity, I find it will be a record made of this person's administrations; and on that part of the shore from whence he embarks to return from his government, there will be a monument with these words: "Here the people wept, and took leave of Eboracensis, the first governor our mother Felicia sent, who, during his command here, believed himself her subject."

_White's Chocolate-house, Sept. 16._

The following letter wants such sudden despatch, that all things else must wait for this time.

"SIR,

_Sept. 13, equal day and night._

"There are two ladies, who, having a good opinion of your taste
and judgment, desire you to make use of them in the following
particular, which perhaps you may allow very particular. The two
ladies before mentioned have a considerable time since contracted
a more sincere and constant friendship than their adversaries the
men will allow consistent with the frailty of female nature; and
being from a long acquaintance convinced of the perfect agreement
of their tempers, have thought upon an expedient to prevent their
separation, and cannot think any so effectual (since it is common
for love to destroy friendship) as to give up both their liberties
to the same person in marriage. The gentleman they have pitched
upon, is neither well-bred nor agreeable, his understanding
moderate, and his person never designed to charm women; but
having so much self-interest in his nature, as to be satisfied
with making double contracts, upon condition of receiving double
fortunes; and most men being so far sensible of the uneasiness
that one woman occasions, they think him for these reasons
the most likely person of their acquaintance to receive these
proposals. Upon all other accounts, he is the last man either of
them would choose, yet for this preferable to all the rest. They
desire to know your opinion the next post, resolving to defer
further proceeding, till they have received it. I am, Sir,

"Your unknown, unthought-of,
Humble Servant,
BRIDGET EITHERSIDE."

#/

This is very extraordinary, and much might be objected by me, who am something of a civilian, to the case of two marrying the same man; but these ladies are, I perceive, free-thinkers, and therefore I shall speak only to the prudential part of this design, merely as a philosopher, without entering into the merit of it in the ecclesiastical or civil law. These constant friends, Piledea and Orestea, are at a loss to preserve their friendship from the encroachments of love, for which end they have resolved upon a fellow who cannot be the object of affection or esteem to either, and consequently cannot rob one of the place each has in her friend's heart. But in all my reading (and I have read all that the sages in love have written), I have found the greatest danger in jealousy. The ladies indeed, to avoid this passion, choose a sad fellow; but if they would be advised by me, they had better have each their worthless man; otherwise, he that was despicable while he was indifferent to them, will become valuable when he seems to prefer one to the other. I remember in the history of Don Quixote of the Manca, there is a memorable passage which opens to us the weakness of our nature in such particulars. The Don falls into discourse with a gentleman[155] whom he calls the Knight of the Green Cassock, and is invited to his house. When he comes there, he runs into discourse and panegyric upon the economy, the government and order of his family, the education of his children; and lastly, on the singular wisdom of him who disposed things with that exactness. The gentleman makes a soliloquy to himself, "Oh irresistible power of flattery! Though I know this is a madman, I cannot help being taken with his applause."

The ladies will find this much more true in the case of their lover; and the woman he most likes, will certainly be more pleased; she whom he flights, more offended, than she can imagine before she has tried. Now I humbly propose, that they both marry coxcombs whom they are sure they cannot like, and then they may be pretty secure against the change of affection, which they fear; and by that means, preserving the temperature under which they now write, enjoy during life, "equal day and night."

_St. James's Coffee-house, Sept. 16._

There is no manner of news; but people now spend their time in coffee-houses in reflections upon the particulars of the late glorious day,[156] and collecting the several parts of the action, as they are produced in letters from private hands, or notices given to us by accounts in public papers. A pleasant gentleman, alluding to the great fences through which we pierced, said this evening, "The French thought themselves on the right side of the hedge, but it proved otherwise." Mr. Kidney, who has long conversed with, and filled tea for the most consummate politicians, was pleased to give me an account of this piece of ribaldry, and desired me on that occasion to write a whole paper on the subject of valour, and explain how that quality, which must be possessed by whole armies, is so highly preferable in one man rather than another, and how the same actions are but mere acts of duty in some, and instances of the most heroic virtue in others. He advised me not to fail in this discourse to mention the gallantry of the Prince of Nassau in this last engagement, who (when a battalion made a halt in the face of the enemy) snatched the colours out of the hands of the ensign, and planted them just before the line of the enemy, calling to that battalion to take care of their colours, if they had no regard to him. Mr. Kidney has my promise to obey him in this particular on the first occasion that offers.

* * * * *

Mr. Bickerstaff is now compiling exact accounts of the pay of the militia, and the commission officers under the respective Lieutenancies of Great Britain: in the first place, of those of London and Westminster; and in regard that there are no common soldiers, but all house-keepers, or representatives of house-keepers in these bodies, the sums raised by the officers shall be looked into, and their fellow-soldiers, or rather fellow-travellers from one part of the town to the other, not defrauded of the ten pounds allowed for the subsistence of the troops.

Whereas not very long since, at a tavern between Fleet Bridge and Charing Cross, some certain polite gentlemen thought fit to perform the bacchanalian exercises of devotion, by dancing without clothes on, after the manner of the pre-Adamites; this is to certify those persons, that there is no manner of wit or humour in the said practice, and that the beadles of the parish are to be at their next meeting, where it is to be examined, whether they are arrived at want of feeling, as well as want of shame.

Whereas a chapel clerk was lately taken in a garret on a flock-bed with two of the fair sex, who are usually employed in sifting cinders; this is to let him know, that if he persists in being a scandal both to laity and clergy (as being as it were both and neither), the names of the nymphs who were with him shall be printed; therefore he is desired, as he tenders the reputation of his ladies, to repent.

Mr. Bickerstaff has received information, that an eminent and noble preacher in the chief congregation of Great Britain, for fear of being thought guilty of presbyterian fervency and extemporary prayer, lately read his, before sermon; but the same advices acknowledging that he made the congregation large amends by the shortness of his discourse, it is thought fit to make no further observation upon it.[157]

FOOTNOTES:

[150] "Encheiridion," sect. xvii. Dobson.

[151] Want of merit. _Cf._ "The Lying Lover," act ii.: "'Tis my own indesert that gives me fears."

[152] England.

[153] Robert Hunter, a friend of Addison and Swift, was appointed Lieutenant-Governor of Virginia in 1707, but was taken by the French in his voyage thither. Having been exchanged for the French Bishop of Quebec, he was appointed Governor of New York, and in 1710 took charge of 2700 Protestant refugees from the Palatinate, who were to settle there. During his government of New York, he was directed by her Majesty to provide subsistence for about 3000 palatines sent from Great Britain to be employed in raising and manufacturing naval stores; and by 1734 he had disbursed _£21,000_ and upwards in that undertaking, no part of which was ever repaid. He returned to England in 1719; and, after being made Major-General, he was appointed Governor of Jamaica in 1729. He died March 31, 1734, and was buried in that island.

[154] "Æneid," vi. 853.

[155] Don Diego de Miranda. See "Don Quixote," Part II., chaps. xvii., xviii.

[156] The battle of Malplaquet.

No. 70. [STEELE.

From _Saturday, Sept. 17_, to _Tuesday, Sept. 20, 1709_.

Quicquid agunt homines ... nostri farrago libelli.

JUV., Sat. i. 85, 86.

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 19._

The following letter,[158] in prosecution of what I have lately asserted, has urged that matter so much better than I had, that I insert it as I received it. These testimonials are customary with us learned men, and sometimes are suspected to be written by the author; but I fear no one will suspect me of this.

"SIR,

_London, Sept. 15, 1709._

"Having read your lucubrations of the 10th instant,[159] I can't
but entirely agree with you in your notions of the scarcity of
men who can either read or speak. For my part, I have lived these
thirty years in the world, and yet have observed but a very few
who could do either in any tolerable manner; among which few,
you must understand that I reckon myself. How far eloquence,
set off with the proper ornaments of voice and gesture, will
prevail over the passions, and how cold and unaffecting the
best oration in the world would be without them, there are two
remarkable instances in the case of Ligarius and that of Milo.
Cæsar had condemned Ligarius. He came indeed to hear what might
be said; but thinking himself his own master, resolved not to be
biassed by anything Cicero could say in his behalf: but in this
he was mistaken; for when the orator began to speak, the hero is
moved, he is vanquished, and at length the criminal absolved. It
must be observed, that this famous orator was less renowned for
his courage than his eloquence; for though he came at another
time, prepared to defend Milo with one of the best orations that
antiquity has produced; yet being seized with a sudden fear by
seeing some armed men surrounding the Forum, he faltered in his
speech, and became unable to exert that irresistible force and
beauty of action which would have saved his client, and for want
of which he was condemned to banishment. As the success the former
of these orations met with, appears chiefly owing to the life and
graceful manner with which it was recited (for some there are who
think it may be read without transport), so the latter seems to
have failed of success for no other reason, but because the orator
was not in a condition to set it off with those ornaments. It
must be confessed, that artful sound will with the crowd prevail
even more than sense; but those who are masters of both, will
ever gain the admiration of all their hearers: and there is, I
think, a very natural account to be given of this matter; for the
sensation of the head and heart are caused in each of these parts
by the outward organs of the eye and ear: that therefore which is
conveyed to the understanding and passions by only one of these
organs, will not affect us so much as that which is transmitted
through both.[160] I can't but think your charge is just against
a great part of the learned clergy of Great Britain, who deliver
the most excellent discourses with such coldness and indifference,
that it is no great wonder the unintelligent many of their
congregations fall asleep. Thus it happens that their orations
meet with a quite contrary fate to that of Demosthenes you
mentioned; for as that lost much of its beauty and force by being
repeated to the magistrates of Rhodes without the winning action
of that great orator, so the performances of these gentlemen never
appear with so little grace, and to so much disadvantage, as when
delivered by themselves from the pulpit. Hippocrates being sent
for to a patient in this city, and having felt his pulse, inquired
into the symptoms of his distemper, and finding that it proceeded
in great measure from want of sleep, advises his patient, with
an air of gravity, to be carried to church to hear a sermon, not
doubting but that it would dispose him for the rest he wanted.
If some of the rules Horace gives for the theatre, were (not
improperly) applied to our pulpits, we should not hear a sermon
prescribed as a good opiate.

"----_Si vis me flere, dolendum est
Primum ipsi tibi_----[161]

"A man must himself express some concern and affection in
delivering his discourse, if he expects his auditory should
interest themselves in what he proposes: for otherwise,
notwithstanding the dignity and importance of the subject he
treats of, notwithstanding the weight and argument of the
discourse itself, yet too many will say,

"----_Male si mandata loqueris,
Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo._----[162]

"If there be a deficiency in the speaker, there will not be
a sufficient attention and regard paid to the things spoken:
but, Mr. Bickerstaff, you know, that as too little action is
cold, so too much is fulsome. Some indeed may think themselves
accomplished speakers, for no other reason than because they can
be loud and noisy (for surely Stentor[163] must have some design
in his vociferations). But, dear Mr. Bickerstaff, convince them,
that as harsh and irregular sound is not harmony, so neither is
banging a cushion, oratory; and therefore, in my humble opinion,
a certain divine[164] of the first order, whom I allow otherwise
to be a great man, would do well to leave this off; for I think
his sermons would be more persuasive if he gave his auditory
less disturbance. Though I cannot say that this action would be
wholly improper to a profane oration, yet I think, in a religious
assembly, it gives a man too warlike, or perhaps too theatrical a
figure to be suitable to a Christian congregation. I am,

"Sir,
Your humble Servant, &c."

The most learned and ingenious Mr. Rosehat is also pleased to write to me on this subject.

/# "SIR,

"I read with great pleasure in the _Tatler_ of Saturday last the
conversation upon eloquence. Permit me to hint to you one thing
the great Roman orator observes upon this subject, 'Caput enim
arbitrabatur oratoris' (he quotes Menedemus, an Athenian), 'ut
ipsis apud quos ageret talis qualem ipse optaret videretur, id
fieri vitæ dignitate.[165] It is the first rule in oratory, that a
man must appear such as he would persuade others to be, and that
can be accomplished only by the force of his life. I believe it
might be of great service to let our public orators know, that
an unnatural gravity, or an unbecoming levity in their behaviour
out of the pulpit, will take very much from the force of their
eloquence in it. Excuse another scrap of Latin; it is from one of
the Fathers: I think it will appear a just observation to all,
as it may have authority with some: 'Qui autem docent tantum,
nec faciunt, ipsi præceptis suis detrahunt pondus; quis enim
obtemperet, quum ipsi præceptores doceant non obtemperare?' I am,

"Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
JONATHAN ROSEHAT.

"_P.S._--You were complaining in that paper, that the clergy of
Great Britain had not yet learned to speak: a very great defect
indeed; and therefore I shall think myself a well-deserver of
the Church, in recommending all the dumb clergy to the famous
speaking doctor at Kensington.[166] This ingenious gentleman,
out of compassion to those of a bad utterance, has placed his
whole study in the new modelling the organs of voice, which art
he has so far advanced, as to be able even to make a good orator
of a pair of bellows. He lately exhibited a specimen of his skill
in this way, of which I was informed by the worthy gentlemen
then present, who were at once delighted and amazed to hear an
instrument of so simple an organisation use an exact articulation
of words, a just cadency in its sentences, and a wonderful pathos
in its pronunciation; not that he designs to expatiate in this
practice, because he cannot (as he says) apprehend what use it may
be of to mankind, whose benefit he aims at in a more particular
manner: and for the same reason he will never more instruct the
feathered kind, the parrot having been his last scholar in that
way. He has a wonderful faculty in making and mending echoes, and
this he will perform at any time for the use of the solitary in
the country, being a man born for universal good, and for that
reason recommended to your patronage by, Sir, Yours, &c." #/

Another learned gentleman gives me also this encomium:

"SIR,

_September 16._

"You are now got into a useful and noble subject; take care to
handle it with judgment and delicacy. I wish every young divine
would give yours of Saturday last a serious perusal; and now you
are entered upon the action of an orator, if you would proceed to
favour the world with some remarks on the mystical enchantments
of pronunciation, what a secret force there is in the accents of
a tunable voice, and wherefore the works of two very great men of
the profession could never please so well when read as heard, I
shall trouble you with no more scribble. You are now in the method
of being truly profitable and delightful. If you can keep up to
such great and sublime subjects, and pursue them with a suitable
genius, go on and prosper. Farewell."

_White's Chocolate-house, Sept. 19._

This was left for me here for the use of the company of the house.

"_To_ ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.

"SIR,

_September 15._

"The account you gave lately of a certain dog-kennel or near
Suffolk Street,[167] was not so punctual as to the list of
the dogs as might have been expected from a person of Mr.
Bickerstaff's intelligence; for if you'll despatch Pacolet thither
some evening, it is ten to one but he finds, besides those you
mentioned, "Towzer, a large French mongrel, that was not long ago
in a tattered condition, but has now got new hair; is not fleet;
but when he grapples, bites even to the marrow.

"Spring, a little French greyhound, that lately made a false trip
to Tunbridge.

"Sly, an old battered foxhound, that began the game in France.

"Lightfoot, a fine-skinned Flanders dog, that belonged to a pack
at Ghent; but having lost flesh, is come to Paris for the benefit
of the air.

"With several others, that in time may be worth notice.

"Your familiar will see also, how anxious the keepers are about
the prey, and indeed not without very good reason, for they have
their share of everything; nay, not so much as a poor rabbit can
be run down, but these carnivorous curs swallow a quarter of it.
Some mechanics in the neighbourhood, that have entered into this
civil society (and who furnish part of the carrion and oatmeal
for the dogs) have the skin; and the bones are picked clean by a
little French shock that belongs to the family, &c. I am,

"Sir,
Your humble Servant, &c.

"I had almost forgotten to tell you, that Ringwood bites at
Hampstead with false teeth."[168] #/

FOOTNOTES:

[157] See No. 66.

[158] Printed in Swift's Works.

[159] No. 66.

[160] _Cf._ Rabelais, Book I., chap. xli.

[161] "Ars Poet.," 102.

[162] "Ars Poet.," 104.

[163] See No. 54.

[164] Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, whom Dryden describes as "a portly prince, and goodly to the sight," "black-browed and bluff."

[165] Cicero, "De Oratore," i. 19.

[166] James Ford. In answer to an application for advice from a stammerer, the _British Apollo_ for Jan. 23 to 25, 1710, said: "For further advice we refer you to Mr. Ford at Kensington, who has not only recovered several who stammered to a regular speech, but also brought the deaf and dumb to speak, an instance whereof hath been known by a gentleman of our society." The _Postman_ for Oct. 21, 1703, contained the following advertisement: "James Ford, formerly living at Christ's Hospital, in Charterhouse Yard and Cecil Street, who removes stammering and other impediments in speech, and teaches foreigners to pronounce English like natives; and has lately brought a child to speak, that was born deaf and dumb; is now removed to Newington Green, where he keeps a tutor in his house, that children may not lose their learning. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he is to be met with at Mr. Meriden's, sword cutler, at the corner of Exchange Alley, at Exchange time, and at the Rainbow Coffee-house, by Temple Bar, at six in the evening on Thursdays." In a letter now in the British Museum (Sloane MS., 4044), Ford asked Sir Hans Sloane to examine certain persons whom he claimed to have cured.

[167] See No. 62.

[168] False dice.

No. 71. [STEELE.

From _Tuesday, Sept. 20_, to _Thursday, Sept. 22, 1709_.

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 21._

I have long been against my inclination employed in satire, and that in prosecution of such persons who are below the dignity of the true spirit of it; such who I fear are not to be reclaimed by making them only ridiculous. The sharpers therefore shall have a month's time to themselves free from the observation of this paper; but I must not make a truce without letting them know, that at the same time I am preparing for a more vigorous war; for a friend of mine has promised me, he will employ his time in compiling such a tract before the session of the ensuing Parliament, as shall lay gaming home to the bosoms of all who love their country or their families; and he doubts not but it will create an Act, that shall make these rogues as scandalous as those less mischievous ones on the highroad. I have received private intimations to take care of my walks, and remember there are such things as stabs and blows: but as there never was anything in this design which ought to displease a man of honour, or which was not designed to offend the rascals, I shall give myself very little concern for finding what I expected, that they would be highly provoked at these lucubrations. But though I utterly despise the pack, I must confess I am at a stand at the receipt of the following letter, which seems to be written by a man of sense and worth, who has mistaken some passage that I am sure was not levelled at him. This gentleman's complaints give me compunction, when I neglect the threats of the rascals. I can't be in jest with the rogues any longer, since they pretend to threaten. I don't know whether I shall allow them the favour of transportation.

"MR. BICKERSTAFF,

_Sept. 13._

"Observing you are not content with lashing the many vices of the
age, without illustrating each with particular characters, it is
thought nothing would more contribute to the impression you design
by such, than always having regard to truth. In your _Tatler_ of
this day,[169] I observe you allow, that nothing is so tender as a
lady's reputation; that a stain once got in their fame, is hardly
ever to be washed out. This you grant even when you give yourself
leave to trifle. If so, what caution is necessary in handling
the reputation of a man, whose wellbeing in this life perhaps
entirely depends on preserving it from any wound, which once there
received, too often becomes fatal and incurable? Suppose some
villainous hand, through personal prejudice, transmits materials
for this purpose, which you publish to the world, and afterwards
become fully convinced you were imposed on (as by this time you
may be of a character you have sent into the world); I say,
supposing this, I would be glad to know, what reparation you think
ought to be made the person so injured, admitting you stood in his
place. It has always been held, that a generous education is the
surest mark of a generous mind. The former is indeed perspicuous
in all your papers; and I am persuaded, though you affect often
to show the latter, yet you would not keep any measures (even
of Christianity) with those who should handle you in the manner
you do others. The application of all this is from your having
very lately glanced at a man, under a character, that were he
conscious to deserve, he would be the first to rid the world of
himself; and would be more justifiable in it to all sorts of men,
than you in your committing such a violence on his reputation,
which perhaps you may be convinced of in another manner than you
deserve from him.

"A man of your capacity, Mr. Bickerstaff, should have more noble
views, and pursue the true spirit of satire; but I will conclude,
lest I grow out of temper, and will only beg for your own
preservation, to remember the proverb of the pitcher.

"I am Yours,
A. J."

The proverb of the pitcher I have no regard to; but it would be an insensibility not to be pardoned, if a man could be untouched at so warm an accusation, and that laid with so much seeming temper. All I can say to it is, that if the writer, by the same method whereby he conveyed this letter, shall give me an instance wherein I have injured any good man, or pointed at anything which is not the true object of raillery, I shall acknowledge the offence in as open a manner as the press can do it, and lay down this paper for ever. There is something very terrible in unjustly attacking men in a way that may prejudice their honour or fortune; but when men of too modest a sense of themselves will think they are touched, it is impossible to prevent ill consequences from the most innocent and general discourses. This I have known happen in circumstances the most foreign to theirs who have taken offence at them. An advertisement lately published, relating to Omicron,[170] alarmed a gentleman of good sense, integrity, honour, and industry, which is, in every particular, different from the trifling pretenders pointed at in that advertisement. When the modesty of some is as excessive as the vanity of others, what defence is there against misinterpretation? However, giving disturbance, though not intended, to men of virtuous characters, has so sincerely troubled me, that I will break from this satirical vein; and to show I very little value myself upon it, shall for this month ensuing leave the sharper, the fop, the pedant, the proud man, the insolent; in a word, all the train of knaves and fools, to their own devices, and touch on nothing but panegyric. This way is suitable to the true genius of the Staffs, who are much more inclined to reward than punish. If therefore the author of the above-mentioned letter does not command my silence wholly, as he shall if I do not give him satisfaction, I shall for the above-mentioned space turn my thoughts to raising merit from its obscurity, celebrating virtue in its distress, and attacking vice by no other method but setting innocence in a proper light.

_Will's Coffee-house, Sept. 20._

I find here for me the following letter:[171]

"SQUIRE BICKERSTAFF,

"Finding your advice and censure to have a good effect, I
desire your admonition to our vicar and schoolmaster, who in
his preaching to his auditors, stretches his jaws so wide, that
instead of instructing youth, it rather frightens them: likewise
in reading prayers, he has such a careless loll, that people
are justly offended at his irreverent posture; besides the
extraordinary charge they are put to in sending their children
to dance, to bring them off of those ill gestures. Another evil
faculty he has, in making the bowling-green his daily residence,
instead of his church, where his curate reads prayers every day.
If the weather is fair, his time is spent in visiting; if cold or
wet, in bed, or at least at home, though within a hundred yards
of the church. These, out of many such irregular practices, I
write for his reclamation: but two or three things more before I
conclude; to wit, that generally when his curate preaches in the
afternoon, he sleeps sitting in the desk on a hassock. With all
this, he is so extremely proud, that he will go but once to the
sick, except they return his visit."

I was going on in reading my letter, when I was interrupted by Mr. Greenhat, who has been this evening at the play of "Hamlet." "Mr. Bickerstaff," said he, "had you been to-night at the play-house, you had seen the force of action in perfection: your admired Mr. Betterton[172] behaved himself so well, that, though now about seventy, he acted youth; and by the prevalent power of proper manner, gesture and voice, appeared through the whole drama a young man of great expectation, vivacity, and enterprise. The soliloquy, where he began the celebrated sentence of, 'To be, or not to be;' the expostulation where he explains with his mother in her closet; the noble ardour, after seeing his father's ghost, and his generous distress for the death of Ophelia, are each of them circumstances which dwell strongly upon the minds of the audience, and would certainly affect their behaviour on any parallel occasions in their own lives. Pray, Mr. Bickerstaff, let us have virtue thus represented on the stage with its proper ornaments, or let these ornaments be added to her in places more sacred. As for my part," said he, "I carried my cousin Jerry, this little boy, with me, and shall always love the child for his partiality in all that concerned the fortune of Hamlet. This is entering youth into the affections and passions of manhood beforehand, and as it were antedating the effects we hope from a long and liberal education."

I cannot in the midst of many other things which press, hide the comfort that this letter from my ingenious kinsman gives me.

"_To my Honoured Kinsman_, ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.

"DEAR COUSIN,

_Oxford, Sept. 18._

"I am sorry, though not surprised, to find that you have rallied
the men of dress in vain; that the amber-headed cane still
maintains its unstable post; that pockets are but a few inches
shortened; and a beau is still a beau, from the crown of his
nightcap to the heels of his shoes. For your comfort, I can
assure you, that your endeavours succeed better in this famous
seat of learning. By them, the manners of our young gentlemen are
in a fair way of amendment, and their very language is mightily
refined. To them it is owing, that not a servitor will sing a
catch, not a senior fellow make a pun, not a determining bachelor
drink a bumper; and I believe a gentleman commoner would as soon
have the heels of his shoes red as his stockings. When a witling
stands at a coffee-house door, and sneers at those who pass by,
to the great improvement of his hopeful audience, he is no longer
surnamed a slicer, but a man of fire is the word. A beauty, whose
health is drunk from Heddington to Hinksey,[173] who has been the
theme of the Muses (her cheeks painted with roses, and her bosom
planted with orange boughs), has no more the title of lady, but
reigns an undisputed toast. When to the plain garb of gown and
band a spark adds an inconsistent long wig, we do not say now
he boshes, but there goes a smart fellow. If a virgin blushes,
we no longer cry the blues. He that drinks till he stares, is
no more tow-row, but honest. A youngster in a scrape, is a word
out of date; and what bright man says, I was Joabed by the dean:
bamboozling is exploded; a shat is a tattler; and if the muscular
motion of a man's face be violent, no mortal says, he raises a
horse, but he is a merry fellow.

"I congratulate you, my dear kinsman, upon these conquests; such
as Roman emperors lamented they could not gain; and in which you
rival your correspondent Lewis le Grand, and his dictating academy.

"Be yours the glory to perform, mine to record (as Mr. Dryden
has said before me to his kinsman);[174] and while you enter
triumphant into the temple of the Muses, I, as my office requires,
will, with my staff on my shoulder, attend and conduct you. I am,
Dear cousin,

"Your most affectionate Kinsman,
BENJAMIN BEADLESTAFF."[175]

Upon the humble application of certain persons who have made heroic figures in Mr. Bickerstaff's narrations, notice is hereby given, that no such shall ever be mentioned for the future, except those who have sent menaces, and not submitted to admonition.

FOOTNOTES:

[169] No. 67.

[170] See No. 62.

[171] Printed in Swift's Works.

[172] Thomas Betterton was born in Westminster about 1635, and was apprenticed to a bookseller. There are various accounts of how he came to go on to the stage, but in 1661 he joined Sir William Davenant's company at Lincoln's Inn Fields. Davenant's son afterwards gave Betterton a share in the management, and the company ("the Duke's") moved to Dorset Garden. In 1682 this company united with the King's company. Betterton lost all his savings in a speculation in 1692. Soon afterwards the patentee of the theatre quarrelled with the actors about their salaries, and Betterton and his friends obtained a licence to set up a theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Betterton does not seem to have been a good manager, and he was often in straitened circumstances. In April 1709 the benefit described in No. 1 of the _Tatler_ was arranged for his benefit; on that occasion Betterton, though over seventy, acted the youthful part of Valentine in "Love for Love." The performance brought Betterton £500. Writing on the occasion of his death, Steele paid a high tribute to the actor's powers in No. 167.

It is interesting to note what Zachary Baggs, treasurer at Drury Lane, stated to be the salary paid to, and the amount made by benefits by, the principal performers. I quote from a rare quarto paper of two leaves, issued by Baggs in July 1709 upon the threatened secession of the actors. He says that during the season, October 1708 to June 1709, 135 days--

£. _s._ _d._

Wilks was paid by salary 168 6 8
By his benefit play 90 14 9
Betterton was paid, by his salary £4 a week, and
£1 a week for his wife, although she does
not act 112 10 0
By a benefit, besides what he got by high prices
and guineas 76 4 5
Estcourt was paid at £5 a week salary 112 10 0
By his benefit play 51 8 6
Cibber was paid at £5 a week salary 112 10 0
By his benefit play 51 0 10
Mills was paid £4 a week salary, and £1 for
his wife, for little or nothing 112 10 0
By his benefit play (not including hers) 58 1 4
Mrs. Oldfield had £4 a week salary, making
for fourteen weeks and a day 56 13 4
She was also paid for costumes 2 10 7
And by her benefit play she had 62 7 8
-------------------
In all £1077 3 8

But Baggs adds that at each benefit performance the actor gained much by the special prices paid for seats, and estimating those extra profits at the benefits above mentioned at £880, he arrives at the conclusion that the six actors named earned £1957 in all during the season, though it was broken in upon by the death of Prince George, and brought to a premature close in June.

[173] Villages near Oxford.

[174] Epistle "To my honoured kinsman John Driden, of Chesterton, Esq.," 204:--

"Two of a house few ages can afford,
One to perform, another to record."

[175] See No. 45.

No. 72. [STEELE.

From _Thursday, Sept. 22_, to _Saturday, Sept. 24, 1709_.

_White's Chocolate-house, Sept. 23._

I have taken upon me no very easy task in turning all my thoughts on panegyric, when most of the advices I receive tend to the quite contrary purpose; and I have few notices but such as regard follies and vices. But the properest way for me to treat, is to keep in general upon the passions and affections of men, with as little regard to particulars as the nature of the thing will admit. However, I think there is something so passionate in the circumstances of the lovers mentioned in the following letter, that I am willing to go out of my way to obey what is commanded in it.

"SIR,

_London, September 17._