Chapter VII: Part 7

"Your design of entertaining the town with the characters of the
ancient heroes, as persons shall send an account to Mr. Morphew's,
encourages me and others to beg of you, that in the meantime (if
it is not contrary to the method you have proposed) you would give
us one paper upon the subject of Pætus and his wife's death, when
Nero sent him an order to kill himself: his wife setting him the
example, died with these words, 'Pætus, it is not painful.' You
must know the story, and your observations upon it will oblige,

"Sir,
Your most humble Servant."

When the worst man that ever lived in the world had the highest station in it, human life was the object of his diversion; and he sent orders frequently, out of mere wantonness, to take off such-and-such, without so much as being angry with them. Nay, frequently his tyranny was so humorous, that he put men to death because he could not but approve of them. It came one day to his ear, that a certain married couple, Pætus and Arria, lived in a more happy tranquillity and mutual love than any other persons who were then in being. He listened with great attention to the account of their manner of spending their time together, of the constant pleasure they were to each other in all their words and actions; and found by exact information, that they were so treasonable as to be much more happy than his Imperial Majesty himself. Upon which he wrote Pætus the following billet:--

"Pætus, you are hereby desired to despatch yourself. I have heard
a very good character of you; and therefore leave it to yourself,
whether you will die by dagger, sword, or poison. If you outlive
this order above an hour, I have given directions to put you to
death by torture.

NERO."

This familiar epistle was delivered to his wife Arria, who opened it.

One must have a soul very well turned for love, pity, and indignation, to comprehend the tumult this unhappy lady was thrown into upon this occasion. The passion of love is no more to be understood by some tempers than a problem in a science by an ignorant man: but he that knows what affection is, will have, upon considering the condition of Arria, ten thousand thoughts flow in upon him, which the tongue was not formed to express. But the charming statue is now before my eyes, and Arria, in her unutterable sorrow, has more beauty than ever appeared in youth, in mirth, or in triumph. These are the great and noble incidents which speak the dignity of our nature, in our sufferings and distresses. Behold her tender affection for her husband sinks her features into a countenance which appears more helpless than that of an infant: but, again, her indignation shows in her visage and her bosom a resentment as strong as that of the bravest man. Long she stood in this agony of alternate rage and love; but at last composed herself for her dissolution, rather than survive her beloved Pætus. When he came into her presence, he found her with the tyrant's letter in one hand, and a dagger in the other. Upon his approach to her, she gave him the order; and at the same time, stabbing herself, "Pætus," said she, "it is not painful," and expired. Pætus immediately followed her example. The passion of these memorable lovers was such, that it eluded the rigour of their fortune, and baffled the force of a blow, which neither felt, because each received it for the sake of the other. The woman's part in this story is by much the more heroic, and has occasioned one of the best epigrams transmitted to us from antiquity.

_When Arria pulled the dagger from her side,
Thus to her consort spoke the illustrious bride:
"The wound I gave myself I do not grieve,
I die by that which Pætus must receive._"[176]

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 23._

The boy says, one in a black hat left the following letter:

"FRIEND,

_19th of the 7th month._

"Being of that part of Christians whom men call Quakers; and
being a seeker of the right way, I was persuaded yesterday to
hear one of your most noted teachers. The matter he treated was
the necessity of well-living, grounded upon a future state. I was
attentive; but the man did not appear in earnest. He read his
discourse (notwithstanding thy rebukes) so heavily, and with so
little air of being convinced himself, that I thought he would
have slept, as I observed many of his hearers did. I came home
unedified, and troubled in mind. I dipped into the Lamentations,
and from thence turning to the 34th chapter of Ezekiel, I found
these words: 'Woe be to the shepherds of Israel, that do feed
themselves! Should not the shepherds feed the flock? Ye eat the
fat, and ye clothe you with the wool: ye kill them that are fed;
but ye feed not the flock. The diseased have ye not strengthened;
neither have ye healed that which was sick; neither have ye bound
up that which was broken; neither have ye brought again that which
was driven away; neither have ye sought that which was lost; but
with force and with cruelty have ye ruled them,' &c. Now I pray
thee, friend, as thou art a man skilled in many things, tell me,
who is meant by the diseased, the sick, the broken, the driven
away, and the lost? and whether the prophecy in this chapter be
accomplished, or yet to come to pass? And thou wilt oblige thy
friend, though unknown."

This matter is too sacred for this paper; but I can't see what injury it would do any clergyman, to have it in his eye, and believe, all that are taken from him by his want of industry, are to be demanded of him. I daresay, Favonius[177] has very few of these losses. Favonius, in the midst of a thousand impertinent assailants of the divine truths, is an undisturbed defender of them. He protects all under his care, by the clearness of his understanding, and the example of his life: he visits dying men with the air of a man who hoped for his own dissolution, and enforces in others a contempt of this life, by his own expectation of the next. His voice and behaviour are the lively images of a composed and well-governed zeal. None can leave him for the frivolous jargon uttered by the ordinary teachers among Dissenters, but such who cannot distinguish vociferation from eloquence, and argument from railing. He is so great a judge of mankind, and touches our passions with so superior a command, that he who deserts his congregation must be a stranger to the dictates of nature, as well as to those of grace.

But I must proceed to other matters, and resolve the questions of other inquirers; as in the following:

"SIR,

_Heddington, Sept. 19._

"Upon reading that part of the _Tatler_, No. 69, where mention is
made of a certain chapel-clerk, there arose a dispute, and that
produced a wager, whether by the words chapel-clerk was meant a
clergyman or a layman? By a clergyman, I mean one in holy orders.
It was not that anybody in the company pretended to guess who the
person was; but some asserted, that by Mr. Bickerstaff's words
must be meant a clergyman only: others said, that those words
might have been said of any clerk of a parish; and some of them
more properly, of a layman. The wager is half-a-dozen bottles of
wine; in which (if you please to determine it) your health, and
all the family of the staffs, shall certainly be drunk; and you
will singularly oblige another very considerable family. I mean
that of

"Your humble Servants,
THE TRENCHER-CAPS."

It is very customary with us learned men, to find perplexities where no one else can see any. The honest gentlemen who wrote me this, are much at a loss to understand what I thought very plain; and in return, their epistle is so plain that I can't understand it. This, perhaps, is at first a little like nonsense; but I desire all persons to examine these writings with an eye to my being far gone in the occult sciences; and remember, that it is the privilege of the learned and the great to be understood when they please: for as a man of much business may be allowed to leave company when he pleases; so one of high learning may be above your capacity when he thinks fit. But without further speeches or fooling, I must inform my friends the Trencher-Caps in plain words, that I meant in the place they speak of, a drunken clerk of a church: and I will return their civility among my relations, and drink their healths as they do ours.

FOOTNOTES:

[176] Martial, "Epig.," i. 14. See Pliny, "Epist.," iii. 18.

[177] Dr. Smalridge; see Preface to the _Tatler_, and No. 114. Smalridge was born in 1663 at Lichfield, the son of a dyer. In 1678 he was sent to Westminster by Ashmole, and in 1682 was elected to Christ Church, Oxford, where he became a tutor, and was associated with Aldrich and Atterbury against Obadiah Walker, the Popish Master of University College. In 1692 Smalridge became minister of Tothill Fields Chapel; in 1693 he was collated to a prebend at Lichfield; in 1700 he was made D.D.; and in 1708 he was appointed Lecturer at St. Dunstan's-in-the-West. In 1710 he presented Atterbury to the Upper House of Convocation; in 1711 he became Canon of Christ Church and Dean of Carlisle; in 1713 Dean of Christ Church, and in 1714 Bishop of Bristol. He died in 1719, at Christ Church. Though a Tory, he was not a violent politician, and both Addison and Steele were his friends. Addison, writing to Swift, October 1, 1718, says, "The greatest pleasure I have met with for some months is the conversation of my old friend Dr. Smalridge, who, since the death of the excellent friend you mention, is to me the most candid and agreeable of all bishops."

No. 73. [STEELE.

From _Saturday, Sept. 24_, to _Tuesday, Sept. 27, 1709_.

_White's Chocolate-house, Sept. 26._

I cannot express the confusion the following letter gave me, which I received by Sir Thomas this morning. There cannot be a greater surprise, than to meet with sudden enmity in the midst of a familiar and friendly correspondence; which is my case in relation to this epistle: and I have no way to purge myself to the world, but publishing both it and my answer.

"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,

"You are a very impudent fellow to put me[178] into the _Tatler_.
Rot you, sir, I have more wit than you; and rot me, I have more
money than most fools I have bubbled. All persons of quality
admire me; though, rot me, if I value a Blue Garter any more than
I do a blue apron. Everybody knows I am brave; therefore have a
care how you provoke

"MONOCULUS."

#/

THE ANSWER.

"SIR,

"Did I not very well know your hand, as well by the spelling as
the character, I should not have believed yours of to-day had come
from you. But when all men are acquainted, that I have had all
my intelligence from you relating to your fraternity, let them
pronounce who is the more impudent.[179] I confess I have had a
peculiar tenderness for you, by reason of that luxuriant eloquence
of which you are master, and have treated you accordingly; for
which you have turned your florid violence against your ancient
friend and schoolfellow. You know in your own conscience, you gave
me leave to touch upon your vein of speaking, provided I hid your
other talents; in which I believed you sincere, because, like the
ancient Sinon,[180] you have before now suffered yourself to be
defaced to carry on a plot. Besides, sir, 'Rot me,' language for a
person of your present station. Fie, fie, I am really ashamed for
you, and I shall no more depend upon your intelligence. Keep your
temper, wash your face, and go to bed.

"ISAAC BICKERSTAFF."

For aught I know, this fellow may have confused the description of the pack, on purpose to ensnare the game, while I have all along believed he was destroying them as well as myself. But because they pretend to bark more than ordinary, I shall let them see, that I will not throw away the whip, until they know better how to behave themselves. But I must not at the same time omit the praises of their economy expressed in the following advice:

"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,[181]

_Sept. 17._

"Though your thoughts are at present employed upon the tables
of fame, and marshalling your illustrious dead, it is hoped the
living may not be neglected, nor defrauded of their just honours:
and since you have begun to publish to the world the great
sagacity and vigilance of the knights of the industry, it will be
expected you should proceed to do justice to all the societies
of them you can be informed of, especially since their own great
industry covers their actions as much as possible from that public
notice which is their due.

"_Paullum sepultæ distat inertiæ
Celata virtus._[182]

Hidden vice, and concealed virtue, are much alike.

"Be pleased therefore to let the following memoirs have a place in
their history.

"In a certain part of the town, famous for the freshest oysters
and the plainest English, there is a house, or rather a college,
sacred to hospitality, and the industrious arts. At the entrance
is hieroglyphically drawn, a cavalier contending with a monster,
with jaws expanded, just ready to devour him.[183]

"Hither the brethren of the industry resort; but to avoid
ostentation, they wear no habits of distinction, and perform
their exercises with as little noise and show as possible. Here
are no undergraduates, but each is a master of his art. They are
distributed according to their various talents, and detached
abroad in parties, to divide the labours of the day. They have
dogs as well nosed and as fleet as any, and no sportsmen show
greater activity. Some beat for the game, some hunt it, others
come in at the death; and my honest landlord makes very good
venison sauce, and eats his share of the dinner.

"I would fain pursue my metaphors; but a venerable person who
stands by me, and waits to bring you this letter, and whom, by a
certain benevolence in his look, I suspect to be Pacolet, reproves
me, and obliges me to write in plainer terms; that the society had
fixed their eyes on a gay young gentleman who has lately succeeded
to a title and an estate; the latter of which they judged would
be very convenient for them. Therefore, after several attempts to
get into his acquaintance, my landlord finds an opportunity to
make his court to a friend of the young spark's, in the following
manner:

"'Sir, as I take you to be a lover of ingenuity and plain-dealing,
I shall speak very freely to you. In few words then, you are
acquainted with Sir Liberal Brisk. Providence has for our
emolument sent him a fair estate, for men are not born for
themselves. Therefore, if you'll bring him to my house, we will
take care of him, and you shall have half the profits. There's
Ace and Cutter will do his business to a hair. You'll tell me,
perhaps, he's your friend: I grant it, and it is for that I
propose it, to prevent his falling into ill hands.

"'_We'll carve him like a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him like a carcass fit for hounds._[184]

"'In short, there are to my certain knowledge a hundred mouths
open for him. Now if we can secure him to ourselves, we shall
disappoint all those rascals that don't deserve him. Nay, you
need not start at it, sir, it is for your own advantage. Besides,
Partridge has cast me his nativity, and I find by certain destiny,
his oaks must be felled.'

"The gentleman to whom this honest proposal was made, made little
answer; but said he would consider of it, and immediately took
coach to find out the young baronet, and told him all that had
passed, together with the new salvo to satisfy a man's conscience
in sacrificing his friend. Sir Brisk was fired, swore a dozen
oaths, drew his sword, put it up again, called for his man, beat
him, and bade him fetch a coach. His friend asked him, what he
designed, and whither he was going? He answered, to find out the
villains and fight them. To which his friend agreed, and promised
to be his second, on condition he would first divide his estate to
them, and reserve only a proportion to himself, that so he might
have the justice of fighting his equals. His next resolution was
to play with them, and let them see he was not the bubble they
took him for. But he soon quitted that, and resolved at last to
tell Bickerstaff of them, and get them enrolled in the order of
the industry, with this caution to all young landed knights and
squires, that whenever they are drawn to play, they would consider
it as calling them down to a sentence already pronounced upon
them, and think of the sound of those words, 'His oaks must be
felled.'[185] I am,

"Sir,
Your faithful, humble Servant,
WILL. TRUSTY."

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 26._

It is wonderful to consider to what a pitch of confidence this world is arrived: do people believe I am made up of patience? I have long told them, that I will suffer no enormity to pass, without I have an understanding with the offenders by way of hush-money; and yet the candidates at Queenhithe send all the town coals but me. All the public papers have had this advertisement:

_London, Sept. 22, 1709._

_To the Electors of an Alderman for the Ward of Queenhithe._[186]

"Whereas an evil and pernicious custom has of late very much
prevailed at the election of aldermen for this city, by treating
at taverns and alehouses, thereby engaging many unwarily to give
their votes: which practice appearing to Sir Arthur de Bradly
to be of dangerous consequence to the freedom of elections,
he hath avoided the excess thereof. Nevertheless, to make an
acknowledgment to this ward for their intended favour, he hath
deposited in the hands of Mr.----, one of the present Common
Council, four hundred and fifty pounds, to be disposed of as
follows, provided the said Sir Arthur de Bradly be the alderman,
viz.

"All such that shall poll for Sir Arthur de Bradly, shall have one
chaldron of good coals gratis.

"And half a chaldron to every one that shall not poll against him.

"And the remainder to be laid out in a clock, dial, or otherwise,
as the Common Council-men of the said ward shall think fit.

"And if any person shall refuse to take the said coals to himself,
he may assign the same to any poor electors in the ward.

"I do acknowledge to have received the said four hundred and fifty
pounds, for the purposes above mentioned, for which I have given a
receipt.

Witness, J----s H----t,
J----y G----h, J----n M----y.[187]
E----d D----s.

"_N.B._--Whereas several persons have already engaged to poll
for Sir Humphry Greenhat, it is hereby further declared, that
every such person as doth poll for Sir Humphry Greenhat, and doth
also poll for Sir Arthur de Bradly, shall each of them receive a
chaldron of coals gratis, on the proviso above mentioned."

This is certainly the most plain dealing that ever was used, except that the just quantity which an elector may drink without excess, and the difference between an acknowledgment and a bribe, wants explanation. Another difficulty with me is, how a man who is bargained with for a chaldron of coals for his vote, shall be said to have that chaldron gratis? If my kinsman Greenhat had given me the least intimation of his design, I should have prevented his publishing nonsense; nor should any knight in England have put my relation at the bottom of the leaf as a postscript, when after all it appears Greenhat has been the more popular man. There is here such open contradiction, and clumsy art to palliate the matter, and prove to the people, that the freedom of election is safer when laid out in coals, than strong drink, that I can turn this only to a religious use, and admire the dispensation of things; for if these fellows were as wise as they are rich, where would soon be our liberty? This reminds me of a memorable speech[188] made to a city almost in the same latitude with Westminster. "When I think of your wisdom, I admire your wealth; when I think of your wealth, I admire your wisdom."

FOOTNOTES:

[178] Sir Humphry Monoux. See No. 36.

[179] "As for the satirical part of these writings, those against the gentlemen who profess gaming are the most licentious: but the main of them I take to come from losing gamesters, as invectives against the fortunate; for in very many of them I was very little else but the transcriber. If any have been more particularly marked at, such persons may impute it to their own behaviour before they were touched upon, in publicly speaking their resentment against the author, and professing they would support any man who should insult him." (No. 271.)

[180] The story of the capture of Troy through Sinon's treachery, by help of a wooden horse, is told in the second book of the "Æneid." Sinon, as Dryden puts it, was

"Taken, to take--who made himself their prey,
T'impose on their belief, and Troy betray."

In the original editions "Sinon" is misprinted "Simon."

[181] This letter was by John Hughes.

[182] Horace, 4 Od., ix. 29.

[183] There was a public-house called the George and Dragon at Billingsgate.

[184] "Julius Cæsar," act ii. sc. 1 ("Let's carve," &c.).

[185] _Cf._ the story of Mr. Thomas Charlton in the "Memoirs of Gamesters," &c., p. 150. Tickell alludes to this letter in his verses to the _Spectator_, printed in No. 532:--

"From felon gamesters the raw squire is free,
And Britain owes her rescued oaks to thee."

[186] The original handbill in the British Museum (Harl. MSS., Badford's Coll. 5996) shows that the real names of the two candidates, called in the _Tatler_ Sir Arthur de Bradly and Sir Humphry Greenhat, were Sir Ambrose Crowley and Sir Benjamin Green. The name of Crowley's agent, and those of his witnesses, are only marked by Steele with their initial and final letters. In every other respect, dates not excepted, the papers are word for word the same. The candidates were Sir Ambrose Crowley and Deputy Gough on one side; and Sir Benj. Green and Deputy Tooley on the other. On Sept. 23, 1709, the majority was declared for the two latter without a poll. (_Post Boy_, Sept. 22-24, 1709.)

[187] John Midgley. The witnesses were James Hallet, Jeremy Gough, and Edward Davis (Harl. MSS., 5996).

[188] By Queen Elizabeth.

No. 74. [STEELE.

From _Tuesday, Sept. 27_, to _Thursday, Sept. 29, 1709_.

_Whites Chocolate-house, Sept. 28._

The writer of the following letter has made a use of me, which I did not foresee I should fall into. But the gentleman having assured me, that he has a most tender passion for the fair one, and speaking his intentions with so much sincerity, I am willing to let them contrive an interview by my means.

"SIR,

"I earnestly entreat you to publish the enclosed; for I have no
other way to come at her, or return to myself. A. L.

"_P.S._--Mr. Bickerstaff,

"You can't imagine how handsome she is: the superscription of my
letter will make her recollect the man that gazed at her. Pray put
it in."

I can assure the young lady, the gentleman is in the true trammels of love: how else would he make his superscription so very much longer than his billet? He superscribes:

"To the younger of the two ladies in mourning (who sat in
the hindmost seat of the middle box at Mr. Winstanley's
water-works,[189] on Tuesday was fortnight, and had with them a
brother, or some acquaintance that was as careless of that pretty
creature as a brother; which seeming brother ushered them to their
coach), with great respect. Present.

"MADAM,

"I have a very good estate, and wish myself your husband. Let me
know by this way where you live, for I shall be miserable till we
live together.

ALEXANDER LANDLORD."

This is the modern way of bargain and sale; a certain shorthand writing, in which laconic elder brothers are very successful. All my fear is, that the nymph's elder sister is unmarried. If she is, we are undone: but perhaps the careless fellow was her husband; and then she will let us go on.

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 28._

The following letter has given me a new sense of the nature of my writings. I have the deepest regard to conviction, and shall never act against it. However, I do not yet understand what good man he thinks I have injured: but his epistle has such weight in it, that I shall always have respect for his admonition, and desire the continuance of it. I am not conscious that I have spoken any faults a man may not mend if he pleases.

"Mr. BICKERSTAFF,

_Sept. 25._

"When I read your paper of Thursday,[190] I was surprised to find
mine of the 13th inserted at large; I never intended myself or
you a second trouble of this kind, believing I had sufficiently
pointed out the man you had injured, and that by this time you
were convinced that silence would be the best answer; but finding
your reflections are such as naturally call for a reply, I take
this way of doing it; and, in the first place, return you thanks
for the compliment made me of my seeming sense and worth. I do
assure you, I shall always endeavour to convince mankind of the
latter, though I have no pretence to the former. But to come a
little nearer, I observe you put yourself under a very severe
restriction, even the laying down the _Tatler_ for ever, if I can
give you an instance, 'wherein you have injured any good man, or
pointed at anything which is not the true object of raillery.'

"I must confess, Mr. Bickerstaff, if the making a man guilty of
vices that would shame the gallows, be the best methods to point
at the true object of raillery, I have until this time been very
ignorant; but if it be so, I will venture to assert one thing, and
lay it down as a maxim, even to the Staffian race, viz., that that
method of pointing ought no more to be pursued, than those people
ought to cut your throat who suffer by it, because I take both
to be murder, and the law is not in every private man's hands to
execute: but indeed, sir, were you the only person would suffer by
the _Tatler's_ discontinuance, I have malice enough to punish you
in the manner you prescribe; but I am not so great an enemy to the
town or my own pleasures, as to wish it; nor that you would lay
aside lashing the reigning vices, so long as you keep to the true
spirit of satire, without descending to rake into characters below
its dignity; for as you well observe, 'there is something very
terrible in unjustly attacking men in a way that may prejudice
their honour or fortune;' and indeed, where crimes are enormous,
the delinquent deserves little pity, yet the reporter may deserve
less: and here I am naturally led to that celebrated author of
'The Whole Duty of Man,' who hath set this matter in a true light
in his treatise of 'The Government of the Tongue;'[191] where,
speaking of uncharitable truths, he says, a discovery of this kind
serves not to reclaim, but enrage the offender, and precipitate
him into further degrees of ill. Modesty and fear of shame is
one of those natural restraints, which the wisdom of heaven has
put upon mankind; and he that once stumbles, may yet by a check
of that bridle recover again: but when by a public detection
he is fallen under that infamy he feared, he will then be apt
to discard all caution, and to think he owes himself the utmost
pleasures of vice, as the price of his reputation. Nay, perhaps
he advances further, and sets up for a reversed sort of fame, by
being eminently wicked, and he who before was but a clandestine
disciple, becomes a doctor of impiety, &c. This sort of reasoning,
sir, most certainly induced our wise legislators very lately to
repeal that law which put the stamp of infamy in the face of
felons; therefore you had better give an act of oblivion to your
delinquents, at least for transportation, than continue to mark
them in so notorious a manner. I cannot but applaud your designed
attempt of raising merit from obscurity, celebrating virtue
in distress, and attacking vice in another method, by setting
innocence in a proper light. Your pursuing these noble themes,
will make a greater advance to the reformation you seem to aim
at, than the method you have hitherto taken, by putting mankind
beyond the power of retrieving themselves, or indeed to think it
possible. But if after all your endeavours in this new way, there
should then remain any hardened impenitents, you must even give
them up to the rigour of the law, as delinquents not within the
benefit of their clergy. Pardon me, good Mr. Bickerstaff, for
the tediousness of this epistle, and believe it is not from any
self-conviction I have taken up so much of your time, or my own;
but supposing you mean all your lucubrations should tend to the
good of mankind, I may the easier hope your pardon, being,

"Sir,
Yours, &c."

#/

_Grecian Coffee-house, Sept. 29._[192]

This evening I thought fit to notify to the literati of this house, and by that means to all the world, that on Saturday the 15th of October next ensuing, I design to fix my first table of fame;[193] and desire that such as are acquainted with the characters of the twelve most famous men that have ever appeared in the world, would send in their lists, or name any one man for that table, assigning also his place at it before that time, upon pain of having such his man of fame postponed, or placed too high for ever. I shall not, upon any application whatsoever, alter the place which upon that day I shall give to any of these worthies. But whereas there are many who take upon them to admire this hero, or that author, upon second-hand, I expect each subscriber should underwrite his reason for the place he allots his candidate.

The thing is of the last consequence; for we are about settling the greatest point that has ever been debated in any age, and I shall take precautions accordingly. Let every man who votes consider, that he is now going to give away that, for which the soldier gave up his rest, his pleasure, and his life; the scholar resigned his whole series of thought, his midnight repose, and his morning slumbers. In a word, he is (as I may say) to be judge of that after-life, which noble spirits prefer to their very real being. I hope I shall be forgiven therefore, if I make some objections against their jury as they shall occur to me. The whole of the number by whom they are to be tried, are to be scholars. I am persuaded also, that Aristotle will be put up by all of that class of men. However, in behalf of others, such as wear the livery of Aristotle, the two famous universities are called upon on this occasion; but I except the men of Queen's, Exeter, and Jesus Colleges,[194] in Oxford, who are not to be electors, because he shall not be crowned from an implicit faith in his writings, but to receive his honour from such judges as shall allow him to be censured. Upon this election (as I was just now going to say) I banish all who think and speak after others to concern themselves in it. For which reason all illiterate distant admirers are forbidden to corrupt the voices, by sending, according to the new mode, any poor students coals and candles for their votes[195] in behalf of such worthies as they pretend to esteem. All news-writers are also excluded, because they consider fame as it is a report which gives foundation to the filling up their rhapsodies, and not as it is the emanation or consequence of good and evil actions. These are excepted against as justly as butchers in case of life and death: their familiarity with the greatest names takes off the delicacy of their regard, as dealing in blood makes the _lanii_ less tender of spilling it.

_St. James's Coffee-house, Sept. 28._

Letters from Lisbon of the 25th inst., N. S., speak of a battle which has been fought near the river Cinca, in which General Staremberg had overthrown the army of the Duke of Anjou. The persons who send this, excuse their not giving particulars, because they believed an account must have arrived here before we could hear from them. They had advices from different parts, which concurred in the circumstances of the action; after which the army of his Catholic Majesty advanced as far as Fraga, and the enemy retired to Saragossa. There are reports that the Duke of Anjou was in the engagement; but letters of good authority say, that prince was on the road towards the camp when he received the news of the defeat of his troops. We promise ourselves great consequences from such an advantage, obtained by so accomplished a general as Staremberg; who, among the men of this present age, is esteemed the third in military fame and reputation.

FOOTNOTES:

[189] Henry Winstanley, son of Hamlet Winstanley, the projector and builder of Eddystone light-house, was designed for a painter, but became an engraver, and clerk of the works at Audley Inn in 1694, and New-market in 1700. Walpole supposes that he learned in Italy the tricks and contrivances which amused the public at Piccadilly and Littlebury.

Winstanley's mathematical water theatre stood at the lower end of Piccadilly, distinguishable by a windmill at the top. The exhibitions here were diversified to suit the seasons and the company; and the prices, except that of the sixpenny gallery, varied accordingly. Boxes were from four shillings to half-a-crown, pit from three to two shillings, and a seat in the shilling gallery sometimes cost eighteen-pence. The quantity of water used on extraordinary occasions was from 300 to 800 tons. Winstanley had another house of this sort at Littlebury, in Essex, where there were similar exhibitions. On his death, his houses came into the possession of his widow, for whose benefit they were shown in 1713.

From contemporary advertisements we learn, that the mathematical barrel was at times turned into a tavern, and supplied the company with different sorts of wine, biscuits, spa-water, and cold tankards; it was also converted into a coffee-house, and a flying cupid presented tea, coffee, and newspapers to the gentlemen; fruits, flowers, and sweetmeats to the ladies. In the month of May there was the addition of a May-pole and garland, a milkmaid, a fiddler, and syllabubs. Soft music was heard at a distance, or sirens sung on the rocks. An advertisement in the _Daily Courant_ for Jan. 20, 1713, speaks of "great additions, to the expense of 300 tons of water, and fire mingling with the water, and two flying boys, and a flaming torch with water flowing out of the burning flame."

[190] No. 71.

[191] Published in 1674. "The Whole Duty of Man" has been attributed to various authors; but probably it was written by Richard Allestree.

[192] This article is often ascribed to Swift; but looking to the date at the head of it, such a theory seems disproved by Steele's letter to Swift of October 8: "I wonder you do not write sometimes to me" (see note to No. 81). The article cannot have been held over for any time by Steele, because of the allusions in it to the Queenhithe election; this was a matter respecting which Steele had written in the preceding number, whereas Swift could not have heard of it in Dublin.

[193] See Nos. 67, 81.

[194] They were obliged by the statutes of these colleges to keep to Aristotle for their texts (Nichols).

[195] See the account of the Queenhithe election in No. 73.

No. 75. [STEELE and ADDISON.[196]

From _Thursday, Sept. 29_, to _Saturday, Oct. 1, 1709_

_From my own Apartment, Sept. 30._

I am called off from public dissertations by a domestic affair of great importance, which is no less than the disposal of my sister Jenny for life. The girl is a girl of great merit, and pleasing conversation; but I being born of my father's first wife, and she of his third, she converses with me rather like a daughter than a sister. I have indeed told her, that if she kept her honour, and behaved herself in such manner as became the Bickerstaffs, I would get her an agreeable man for her husband; which was a promise I made her after reading a passage in Pliny's Epistles.[197] That polite author had been employed to find out a consort for his friend's daughter, and gives the following character of the man he had pitched upon:

"Aciliano plurimum vigoris et industriæ quanqum in maxima verecundia: est illi facies liberalis, multo sanguine, multo rubore, suffusa: est ingenua totius corporis pulchritudo, et quidum senatorius decor, quæ ego nequaquam arbitror negligenda: debet enim hoc castitati puellarum quasi præmium dari."

"Acilianus (for that was the gentleman's name) is a man of extraordinary vigour and industry, accompanied with the greatest modesty. He has very much of the gentleman, with a lively colour, and flush of health in his aspect. His whole person is finely turned, and speaks him a man of quality: which are qualifications that, I think, ought by no means to be overlooked, and should be bestowed on a daughter as the reward of her chastity."

A woman that will give herself liberties, need not put her parents to so much trouble; for if she does not possess these ornaments in a husband, she can supply herself elsewhere. But this is not the case of my sister Jenny, who, I may say without vanity, is as unspotted a spinster as any in Great Britain. I shall take this occasion to recommend the conduct of our own family in this particular.

We have in the genealogy of our house, the descriptions and pictures of our ancestors from the time of King Arthur; in whose days there was one of my own name, a Knight of his Round Table, and known by the name of Sir Isaac Bickerstaff. He was low of stature, and of a very swarthy complexion, not unlike a Portuguese Jew. But he was more prudent than men of that height usually are, and would often communicate to his friends his design of lengthening and whitening his posterity. His eldest son Ralph, for that was his name, was for this reason married to a lady who had little else to recommend her, but that she was very tall and very fair. The issue of this match, with the help of high shoes, made a tolerable figure in the next age; though the complexion of the family was obscure until the fourth generation from that marriage. From which time, till the reign of William the Conqueror, the females of our house were famous for their needlework and fine skins. In the male line, there happened an unlucky accident in the reign of Richard the Third; the eldest son of Philip, then chief of the family, being born with an hump-back and very high nose. This was the more astonishing, because none of his forefathers ever had such a blemish; nor indeed was there any in the neighbourhood of that make, except the butler, who was noted for round shoulders, and a Roman nose: what made the nose the less excusable, was the remarkable smallness of his eyes.

These several defects were mended by succeeding matches; the eyes were opened in the next generation, and the hump fell in a century and a half; but the greatest difficulty was, how to reduce the nose; which I do not find was accomplished till about the middle of Henry the Seventh's reign, or rather the beginning of that of Henry the Eighth.

But while our ancestors were thus taken up in cultivating the eyes and nose, the face of the Bickerstaffs fell down insensibly into chin; which was not taken notice of (their thoughts being so much employed upon the more noble features) till it became almost too long to be remedied.

But length of time, and successive care in our alliances, have cured this also, and reduced our faces into that tolerable oval which we enjoy at present. I would not be tedious in this discourse, but cannot but observe, that our race suffered very much about three hundred years ago, by the marriage of one of our heiresses with an eminent courtier, who gave us spindle-shanks, and cramps in our bones, insomuch that we did not recover our health and legs till Sir Walter Bickerstaff married Maud the milkmaid, of whom the then Garter King-at-arms (a facetious person) said pleasantly enough, that she had spoiled our blood, but mended our constitutions. After this account of the effect our prudent choice of matches has had upon our persons and features, I cannot but observe, that there are daily instances of as great changes made by marriage upon men's minds and humours. One might wear any passion out of a family by culture, as skilful gardeners blot a colour out of a tulip that hurts its beauty. One might produce an affable temper out of a shrew, by grafting the mild upon the choleric; or raise a Jack-pudding from a prude, by inoculating mirth and melancholy. It is for want of care in the disposing of our children, with regard to our bodies and minds, that we go into a house and see such different complexions and humours in the same race and family. But to me it is as plain as a pikestaff, from what mixture it is, that this daughter silently lowers, the other steals a kind look at you, a third is exactly well behaved, a fourth a splenetic, and a fifth a coquette. In this disposal of my sister, I have chosen, with an eye to her being a wit, and provided, that the bridegroom be a man of a sound and excellent judgment, who will seldom mind what she says when she begins to harangue: for Jenny's only imperfection is an admiration of her parts, which inclines her to be a little, but a very little, sluttish; and you are ever to remark, that we are apt to cultivate most, and bring into observation, what we think most excellent in ourselves, or most capable of improvement. Thus my sister, instead of consulting her glass and her toilet for an hour and a half after her private devotion, sits with her nose full of snuff,[198] and a man's nightcap on her head, reading plays and romances. Her wit she thinks her distinction; therefore knows nothing of the skill of dress, or making her person agreeable. It would make you laugh to see me often with my spectacles on lacing her stays; for she is so very a wit, that she understands no ordinary thing in the world. For this reason I have disposed of her to a man of business, who will soon let her see, that to be well dressed, in good humour, and cheerful in the command of her family, are the arts and sciences of female life. I could have bestowed her upon a fine gentleman, who extremely admired her wit, and would have given her a coach and six: but I found it absolutely necessary to cross the strain; for had they met, they had eternally been rivals in discourse, and in continual contention for the superiority of understanding, and brought forth critics, pedants, or pretty good poets. As it is, I expect an offspring fit for the habitation of city, town, or country; creatures that are docile and tractable in whatever we put them to. To convince men of the necessity of taking this method, let but one, even below the skill of an astrologer, behold the turn of faces he meets as soon as he passes Cheapside Conduit, and you see a deep attention and a certain unthinking sharpness in every countenance. They look attentive, but their thoughts are engaged on mean purposes. To me it is very apparent when I see a citizen pass by, whether his head is upon woollen, silks, iron, sugar, indigo, or stocks. Now this trace of thought appears or lies hid in the race for two or three generations. I know at this time a person of a vast estate, who is the immediate descendant of a fine gentleman, but the great-grandson of a broker, in whom his ancestor is now revived. He is a very honest gentleman in his principles, but can't for his blood talk fairly: he is heartily sorry for it; but he cheats by constitution, and overreaches by instinct.

The happiness of the man who marries my sister will be, that he has no faults to correct in her but her own, a little bias of fancy, or particularity of manners, which grew in herself, and can be amended by her. From such an untainted couple, we can hope to have our family rise to its ancient splendour of face, air, countenance, manner, and shape, without discovering the product of ten nations in one house. There is Obadiah Greenhat says, he never comes into any company in England, but he distinguishes the different nations of which we are composed: there is scarce such a living creature as a true Briton. We sit down indeed all friends, acquaintance, and neighbours; but after two bottles, you see a Dane start up and swear, the kingdom is his own. A Saxon drinks up the whole quart, and swears, he'll dispute that with him. A Norman tells them both, he'll assert his liberty: and a Welshman cries, they are all foreigners and intruders of yesterday, and beats them out of the room. Such accidents happen frequently among neighbours' children, and cousins-german. For which reason I say, study your race, or the soil of your family will dwindle into cits or squires, or run up into wits or madmen[199].

FOOTNOTES:

[196] In the list given by Steele to Tickell this paper was marked as written by Addison and Steele in conjunction.

[197] Book i., Epist. xiv.

[198] See No. 35.

[199] "In the _Tatler_, about the conduct of our family in their marriages [_Tatler_, No. 75], put in where you think best: 'It is to be noted, that the women of our family never change their name.' This amendment must be made, or we have writ nonsense." (No. 79, folio issue.)

No. 76. [STEELE.

From _Saturday, Oct. 1_, to _Tuesday, Oct. 4, 1709_.

_From my own Apartment, October 3._

It is a thing very much to be lamented, that a man must use a certain cunning to speak to people of what it is their interest to avoid. All men will allow, that it is a great and heroic work to correct men's errors, and at the price of being called a common enemy, to go on in being a common friend to my fellow-subjects and citizens. But I am forced in this work to revolve the same thing in ten thousand lights, and cast them in as many forms, to come at men's minds and affections, in order to lead the innocent in safety, as well as disappoint the artifices of betrayers. Since therefore I can make no impression upon the offending side, I shall turn my observations upon the offended: that is to say, I must whip my children for going into bad company, instead of railing at bad company for ensnaring my children. The greatest misfortunes men fall into, arise from themselves; and that temper, which is called very often, though with great injustice, good-nature, is the source of a numberless train of evils. For which reason we are to take this as a rule, that no action is commendable which is not voluntary; and we have made this a maxim--that man who is commonly called good-natured, is hardly to be thanked for anything he does, because half that is acted about him, is done rather by his sufferance than approbation. It is generally a laziness of disposition, which chooses rather to let things pass the worst way, than to go through the pain of examination. It must be confessed, such a one has so great a benevolence in him, that he bears a thousand uneasinesses, rather than he will incommode others; nay, often when he has just reason to be offended, chooses to sit down with a small injury, than bring it into reprehension, out of pure compassion to the offender. Such a person has it usually said of him, he is no man's enemy but his own; which is in effect saying, he is a friend to every man but himself and his friends: for by a natural consequence of his neglecting himself, he either incapacitates himself to be another's friend, or makes others cease to be his. If I take no care of my own affairs, no man that is my friend can take it ill if I am negligent also of his. This soft disposition, if it continues uncorrected, throws men into a sea of difficulties. There is Euphusius, with all the good qualities in the world, deserves well of nobody: that universal good-will which is so strong in him, exposes him to the assault of every invader upon his time, his conversation, and his property. His diet is butcher's meat, his wenches are in plain pinners and Norwich crapes,[200] his dress like other people, his income great, and yet has he seldom a guinea at command. From these easy gentlemen, are collected estates by servants or gamesters; which latter fraternity are excusable, when we think of this clan, who seem born to be their prey. All therefore of the family of Actæon[201] are to take notice, that they are hereby given up to the brethren of the industry, with this reserve only, that they are to be marked as stricken deer, not for their own sakes, but to preserve the herd from following them and coming within the scent. I am obliged to leave this important subject, without telling whose quarters are severed, who has the humbles, who the haunch, and who the legs, of the last stag that was pulled down; but this is only deferred in hopes my deer will make their escape without more admonitions or examples, of which they have had (in mine and the town's opinion) too great a plenty. I must, I say, at present go to other matters of moment.

_White's Chocolate-house, October 3._