if he stands to it that he is one, he leaves no manner of ground for a misunderstanding. Indeed, it is a most lamentable thing, that there should be a dispute raised upon a man's saying another is, what he plainly takes pains to be thought. But this point cannot be so well adjusted, as by inquiring what are the sentiments of wise nations and communities of the use of the sword, and from thence conclude, whether it is honourable to draw it so frequently or not? An illustrious commonwealth of Italy[294] has preserved itself for many ages, without letting one of their subjects handle this destructive instrument, always leaving that work to such of mankind as understand the use of a whole skin so little, as to make a profession of exposing it to cuts and scars. But what need we run to such foreign instances: our own ancient and well-governed cities are conspicuous examples to all mankind in their regulation of military achievements. The chief citizens, like the noble Italians, hire mercenaries to carry arms in their stead; and you shall have a fellow of a desperate fortune, for the gain of one half-crown, go through all the dangers of Tothill Fields, or the Artillery Ground,[295] clap his right jaw within two inches of the touch-hole of a musket, fire it off, and huzza, with as little concern as he tears a pullet. Thus you see to what scorn of danger these mercenaries arrive, out of a mere love of sordid gain: but methinks it should take off the strong prepossession men have in favour of bold actions, when they see upon what low motives men aspire to them. Do but observe the common practice in the government of those heroic bodies, our militia and lieutenancies, the most ancient corps of soldiers, perhaps, in the universe. I question whether there is one instance of an animosity between any two of these illustrious sons of Mars since their institution, which was decided by combat? I remember indeed to have read the chronicle of an accident which had like to have occasioned bloodshed in the very field before all the general officers, though most of them were justices of the peace: Captain Crabtree of Birching Lane, haberdasher, had drawn a bill upon Major-General Maggot, cheesemonger in Thames Street. Crabtree draws this upon Mr. William Maggot and Company. A country lad received this bill, and not understanding the word "company," used in drawing bills on men in partnership, carried it to Mr. Jeffry Stick of Crooked Lane (lieutenant of the major-general's company) whom he had the day before seen march by the door in all the pomp of his commission. The lieutenant accepts it, for the honour of the company, since it had come to him. But repayment being asked from the major-general, he absolutely refuses. Upon this, the lieutenant thinks of nothing less than to bring this to a rupture, and takes for his second, Tobias Armstrong of the Counter,[296] and sends him with a challenge in a script of parchment, wherein was written, "Stitch contra Maggot," and all the fury vanished in a moment. The major-general gives satisfaction to the second, and all was well. Hence it is, that the bold spirits of our city are kept in such subjection to the civil power. Otherwise, where would our liberties soon be? If wealth and valour were suffered to exert themselves with their utmost force: if such officers as are employed in the terrible bands above-mentioned, were to draw bills as well as swords: these dangerous captains, who could victual an army as well as lead it, would be too powerful for the State. But the point of honour justly gives way to that of gain; and by long and wise regulation, the richest is the bravest man. I have known a captain rise to a colonel in two days by the fall of stocks; and a major, my good friend, near the Monument, ascended to that honour by the fall of the price of spirits, and the rising of right Nantz. By this true sense of honour, that body of warriors are ever in good order and discipline, with their colours and coats all whole: as in other battalions (where their principles of action are less solid) you see the men of service look like spectres, with long sides, and lank cheeks. In this army, you may measure a man's services by his waist, and the most prominent belly is certainly the man who has been most upon action. Besides all this, there is another excellent remark to be made in the discipline of these troops. It being of absolute necessity that the people of England should see what they have for their money, and be eye-witnesses of the advantages they gain by it, all battles which are fought abroad are represented here. But since one side must be beaten, and the other conquer, which might create disputes, the eldest company is always to make the other run, and the younger retreats, according to the last news and best intelligence. I have myself seen Prince Eugene make Catinat fly from the back-side of Gray's Inn Lane to Hockley-in-the-Hole,[297] and not give over the pursuit, till obliged to leave the Bear Garden on the right, to avoid being borne down by fencers, wild bulls and monsters, too terrible for the encounter of any heroes, but such whose lives are their livelihood.

We have here seen, that wise nations do not admit of fighting, even in the defence of their country, as a laudable action; and they live within the walls of our own city in great honour and reputation without it. It would be very necessary to understand, by what force of the climate, food, education, or employment, one man's sense is brought to differ so essentially from that of another; that one is ridiculous and contemptible for forbearing a thing which makes for his safety; and another applauded for consulting his ruin and destruction.

It will therefore be necessary for us (to show our travelling) to examine this subject fully, and tell you how it comes to pass, that a man of honour in Spain, though you offend him never so gallantly, stabs you basely; in England, though you offend never so basely, challenges fairly: the former kills you out of revenge; the latter out of good breeding. But to probe the heart of a man in this particular to its utmost thoughts and recesses, I must wait for the return of Pacolet, who is now attending a gentleman lately in a duel, and sometimes visits the person by whose hand he received his wounds.

St. James's Coffee-house, June 13.

Letters from Vienna of the 8th instant say, there has been a journal of the marches and actions of the King of Sweden, from the beginning of January to the 11th of April, N.S., communicated by the Swedish Ministers to that Court. These advices inform, that his Swedish Majesty entered the territories of Muscovy in February last with the main body of his army, in order to oblige the enemy to a general engagement; but that the Muscovites declining a battle, and a universal thaw having rendered the rivers unpassable, the king returned into Ukrania. There are mentioned several rencounters between considerable detachments of the Swedish and Russian armies. Marshal Heister intended to take his leave of the Court on the day after the date of these letters, and put himself at the head of the army in Hungary. The malcontents had attempted to send in a supply of provisions into Neuheusel; but their design was disappointed by the Germans.

Advices from Berlin of the 15th instant, N.S., say, that his Danish Majesty having received an invitation from the King of Prussia to an interview, designed to come to Potsdam within few days; and that King Augustus resolved to accompany him thither. To avoid all difficulties in ceremony, the three kings, and all the company who shall have the honour to sit with them at table, are to draw lots, and take precedence accordingly.

They write from Hamburg of the 18th instant, N.S., that some particular letters from Dantzic speak of a late action between the Swedes and Muscovites near Jaroslaw; but that engagement being mentioned from no other place, there is not much credit given to this intelligence.

We hear from Brussels, by letters, dated the 20th, that on the 14th in the evening the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene arrived at Courtray, with a design to proceed the day following to Lille, in the neighbourhood of which city the confederate army was to rendezvous the same day. Advices from Paris inform us, that the Marshal de Bezons is appointed to command in Dauphine; and that the Duke of Berwick is set out for Spain, with a design to follow the fortunes of the Duke of Anjou, in case the French king should comply with the late demands of the Allies.

The Court of France has sent a circular letter to all the governors of the provinces, to recommend to their consideration his Majesty's late conduct in the affair of peace. It is thought fit in that epistle, to condescend to a certain appeal to the people, whether it is consistent with the dignity of the crown, or the French name, to submit to the preliminaries demanded by the confederates? The letter dwells upon the unreasonableness of the Allies, in requiring, that his Majesty should assist in dethroning his grandson, and treats this particular in language more suitable to it, as it is a topic of oratory, than a real circumstance, on which the interests of nations, and reasons of State, which affect all Europe, are concerned.

The close of this memorial seems to prepare the people to expect all events, attributing the confidence of the enemy to the goodness of their troops; but acknowledging, that his sole dependence is upon the intervention of Providence.



[Footnote 293: See No. 26.]

[Footnote 294: Venice, where mercenaries were employed for fighting purposes.]

[Footnote 295: The City train-bands were often the subject of ridicule by the wits. See "Harleian Misc." i. 206, Cowper's "John Gilpin," and Nos. 38, 41. Tothill Fields, Westminster, and the Artillery Ground, Finsbury, were the usual exercising-grounds for the train-bands.]

[Footnote 296: The Compter was a prison for the city of London, where debtors and others were confined.]

[Footnote 297: Steele wrote at length in the Spectator (No. 436) of a trial of skill in the noble art of self-defence at Hockley-in-the-Hole; and in No. 630 there is an allusion to the gladiators of Hockley-in-the-Hole. In the "Beggar's Opera," Mrs. Peachum says: "You should to Hockley-in-the-Hole and to Marybone, child, to learn valour; there are the schools that have bred so many brave men." As to the other sports at the Bear Garden, see No. 134, and Gay's "Trivia," ii. 407-12:

"When thro' the town, with slow and solemn air, Led by the nostril, walks the muzzled bear; Behind him moves, majestically dull, The pride of Hockley-hole, the surly bull; Learn hence the periods of the week to name: Mondays and Thursdays are the days of game."

There were seats, at half a crown and upwards, for the quality; the neighbourhood of the Bear Garden was infested by thieves. The following are specimens of the advertisements common about 1709: "At the Bear-garden, in Hockley in the Hole. A trial of skill, to be performed between two profound masters of the noble science of defence, on Wednesday next, the 13th of July, 1702, at two o'clock precisely. I George Gray, born in the city of Norwich, who has fought in most parts of the West Indies, viz., Jamaica, Barbadoes, and several other parts of the world, in all twenty-five times upon the stage, and was never yet worsted; and am now lately come to London, do invite James Harris to meet, and exercise at the following weapons, back-sword, sword and dagger, sword and buckler, single falchon, and case of falchons. I James Harris, master of the said noble science of defence, who formerly rid in the Horse-guards, and hath fought 110 prizes, and never left a stage to any man, will not fail (God willing) to meet this brave and bold inviter, at the time and place appointed, desiring sharp swords, and from him no favour. No person to be upon the stage, but the seconds. Vivat Regina."

"At the Bear-garden in Hockley in the Hole, near Clerkenwell Green, 1710. This is to give notice to all gentlemen, gamesters, and others, that on this present Monday is a match to be fought by two dogs, one from Newgate-market, against one from Honey-lane market, at a bull, for a guinea to be spent, five let-goes out of hand, which goes fairest and fastest in, wins all. Likewise, a green bull to be baited, which was never baited before; and a bull to be turned loose with fireworks all over him. Also a mad ass to be baited. With a variety of bull-baiting and bear-baiting, and a dog to be drawn up with fireworks. To begin exactly at three of the clock."]



No. 29. [STEELE.

From Tuesday, June 14, to Thursday, June 16, 1709.

* * * * *

White's Chocolate-house, June 14.

Having a very solid respect for human nature, however it is distorted from its natural make, by affectation, humour, custom, misfortune, or vice, I do apply myself to my friends to help me in raising arguments for preserving it in all its individuals, as long as it is permitted. To one of my letters on this subject, I have received the following answer:[298]

"SIR,

"In answer to your question, why men of sense, virtue, and experience, are seen still to comply with that ridiculous custom of duelling, I must desire you to reflect, that custom has dished up in ruffs the wisest heads of our ancestors, and put the best of the present age into huge falbala periwigs.[299] Men of sense would not impose such encumbrances on themselves; but be glad they might show their faces decently in public upon easier terms. If then such men appear reasonably slaves to the fashion, in what regards the figure of their persons, we ought not to wonder, that they are at least so in what seems to touch their reputations. Besides, you can't be ignorant, that dress and chivalry have been always encouraged by the ladies, as the two principal branches of gallantry. It is to avoid being sneered at for his singularity, and from a desire to appear more agreeable to his mistress, that a wise, experienced, and polite man, complies with the dress commonly received, and is prevailed upon to violate his reason and principles, in hazarding his life and estate by a tilt, as well as suffering his pleasures to be constrained and soured by the constant apprehension of a quarrel. This is the more surprising, because men of the most delicate sense and principles have naturally in other cases a particular repugnance in accommodating themselves to the maxims of the world: but one may easily distinguish the man that is affected with beauty, and the reputation of a tilt, from him who complies with both, merely as they are imposed upon him by custom; for in the former you will remark an air of vanity and triumph; whereas when the latter appears in a long Duvillier full of powder, or has decided a quarrel by the sword, you may perceive in his face, that he appeals to custom for an excuse. I think it may not be improper to inquire into the genealogy of this chimerical monster, called a 'duel', which I take to be an illegitimate species of the ancient knight-errantry. By the laws of this whim, your heroic person, or man of gallantry, was indispensably obliged to starve in armour a certain number of years in the chase of monsters, encounter them at the peril of his life, and suffer great hardships, in order to gain the affection of the fair lady, and qualify himself for assuming the belair, that is, of a pretty fellow, or man of honour according to the fashion: but since the publishing of 'Don Quixote' and extinction of the race of dragons, which Suetonius says happened in that of Wantley,[300] the gallant and heroic spirits of these latter times have been under the necessity of creating new chimerical monsters to entertain themselves with, by way of single combats, as the only proofs they are able to give their own sex, and the ladies, that they are in all points men of nice honour. But to do justice to the ancient and real monsters, I must observe, that they never molested those who were not of a humour to hunt for them in the woods and deserts; whereas on the contrary, our modern monsters are so familiarly admitted and entertained in all the Courts and cities of Europe (except France) that one can scarce be in the most humanised society without risking one's life; the people of the best sort, and the fine gentlemen of the age, being so fond of them, that they seldom appear in any public place without one. I have some further considerations upon this subject, which, as you encourage me, shall be communicated to you, by, sir, a cousin but once removed from the best family of the Staffs, namely, "Sir,

"Your humble Servant,

"Kinsman and Friend,

"TIM SWITCH."

It is certain, Mr. Switch has hit upon the true source of this evil; and that it proceeds only from the force of custom that we contradict ourselves in half the particulars and occurrences of life. But such a tyranny in love, which the fair impose upon us, is a little too severe, that we must demonstrate our affection for them by no certain proof but hatred to one another, or come at them (only as one does to an estate) by survivorship. This way of application to gain a lady's heart, is taking her as we do towns and castles, by distressing the place, and letting none come near them without our pass. Were such a lover once to write the truth of his heart, and let her know his whole thoughts, he would appear indeed to have a passion for her; but it would hardly be called love. The billet-doux would run to this purpose:

"MADAM,

"I have so tender a regard for you and your interests, that I'll knock any man in the head whom I observe to be of my mind, and like you. Mr. Truman the other day looked at you in so languishing a manner, that I am resolved to run him through to-morrow morning: this, I think, he deserves for his guilt in admiring you; than which I cannot have a greater reason for murdering him, except it be that you also approve him. Whoever says he dies for you, I will make his words good, for I will kill him. I am,

"Madam,

"Your most obedient,

"Most humble Servant."

From my own Apartment, June 14.

I am just come hither at ten at night, and have ever since six been in the most celebrated, though most nauseous, company in town: the two leaders of the society were a critic and a wit. These two gentlemen are great opponents upon all occasions, not discerning that they are the nearest each other in temper and talents of any two classes of men in the world; for to profess judgment, and to profess wit, both arise from the same failure, which is want of judgment. The poverty of the critic this way proceeds from the abuse of his faculty; that of the wit from the neglect of it. It is a particular observation I have always made, that of all mortals, a critic is the silliest; for by inuring himself to examine all things, whether they are of consequence or not, be never looks upon anything but with a design of passing sentence upon it; by which means, he is never a companion, but always a censor. This makes him earnest upon trifles; and dispute on the most indifferent occasions with vehemence. If he offers to speak or write, that talent which should approve the work of the other faculties, prevents their operation. He comes upon action in armour; but without weapons: he stands in safety; but can gain no glory. The wit on the other hand has been hurried so long away by imagination only, that judgment seems not to have ever been one of his natural faculties. This gentleman takes himself to be as much obliged to be merry, as the other to be grave. A thorough critic is a sort of Puritan in the polite world. As an enthusiast in religion stumbles at the ordinary occurrences of life, if he cannot quote scripture examples on the occasion; so the critic is never safe in his speech or writing, without he has among the celebrated writers an authority for the truth of his sentence. You will believe we had a very good time with these brethren, who were so far out of the dress of their native country, and so lost to its dialect, that they were as much strangers to themselves, as to their relation to each other. They took up the whole discourse; sometimes the critic grew passionate, and when reprimanded by the wit for any trip or hesitation in his voice, he would answer, Mr. Dryden makes such a character on such an occasion break off in the same manner; so that the stop was according to nature, and as a man in a passion should do. The wit, who is as far gone in letters as himself, seems to be at a loss to answer such an apology; and concludes only, that though his anger is justly vented, it wants fire in the utterance. If wit is to be measured by the circumstances of time and place, there is no man has generally so little of that talent, as he who is a wit by profession. What he says, instead of arising from the occasion, has an occasion invented to bring it in. Thus he is new for no other reason, but that he talks like nobody else; but has taken up a method of his own, without commerce of dialogue with other people. The lively Jasper Dactyle[301] is one of this character. He seems to have made a vow to be witty to his life's end. When you meet him, "What do you think," says he, "I have been entertaining myself with?" Then out comes a premeditated turn, to which it is to no purpose to answer; for he goes on in the same strain of thought he designed without your speaking. Therefore I have a general answer to all he can say; as, "Sure there never was any creature had so much fire!" Spondee, who is a critic, is seldom out of this fine man's company. They have no manner of affection for each other, but keep together, like Novel and Oldfox in "The Plain Dealer,"[302] because they show each other. I know several of sense who can be diverted with this couple; but I see no curiosity in the thing, except it be, that Spondee is dull, and seems dull; but Dactyle is heavy with a brisk face. It must be owned also, that Dactyle has almost vigour enough to be a coxcomb; but Spondee, by the lowness of his constitution, is only a blockhead.

St. James's Coffee-house, June 15.

We have no particulars of moment since our last, except it be, that the copy of the following original letter came by the way of Ostend. It is said to have been found in the closet of Monsieur Chamillard, the late Secretary of State of France, since his disgrace. It was signed by two brothers of the famous Cavallier,[303] who led the Cevennois, and had a personal interview with the king, as well as a capitulation to lay down his arms, and leave the dominions of France. There are many other names to it; among whom, is the chief of the family of the Marquis Guiscard.[304] It is not yet known, whether Monsieur Chamillard had any real design to favour the Protestant interest, or only thought to place himself at the head of that people, to make himself considerable enough to oppose his enemies at Court, and reinstate himself in power there.

"SIR,

"We have read your Majesty's[305] letter to the governors of your provinces, with instructions what sentiments to insinuate into the minds of your people: but as you have always acted upon the maxim, that we were made for you, and not you for us, we must take leave to assure your Majesty, that we are exactly of the contrary opinion, and must desire you to send for your grandson home, and acquaint him, that you now know by experience, absolute power is only a vertigo in the brain of princes, which for a time may quicken their motion, and double in their diseased sight the instances of power above them; but must end in their fall and destruction. Your memorial speaks a good father of your family, but a very ill one of your people. Your Majesty is reduced to hear truth when you are obliged to speak it: there is no governing any but savages by any methods but their own consent, which you seem to acknowledge, in appealing to us for our opinion of your conduct in treating of peace. Had your people been always of your council, the King of France had never been reduced so low, as to acknowledge his arms were fallen into contempt. But since it is thus, we must ask, 'How is any man of France, but they of the House of Bourbon, the better that Philip is King of Spain?' We have outgrown that folly of placing our happiness in your Majesty's being called, The Great; therefore as you and we are all alike bankrupts,[306] and undone, let us not deceive ourselves, but compound with our adversaries, and not talk like their equals. Your Majesty must forgive us that we cannot wish you success, or lend you help; for if you lose one battle more, we may have a hand in the peace you make; and doubt not but your Majesty's faith in treaties will require the ratification of the states of your kingdoms. So we bid you heartily farewell, till we have the honour to meet you assembled in Parliament. This happy expectation makes us willing to wait the event of another campaign, from whence we hope to be raised from the misery of slaves, to the privileges of subjects. We are,

"Your Majesty's

"Truly faithful, and

"Loyal Subjects, &c."



[Footnote 298: See Nos. 25, 26, 28.]

[Footnote 299: The full-bottomed dress wigs. Another name was "Duvillier," used below.]

[Footnote 300: See Percy's "Reliques of Ancient English Poetry," ed. Wheatley, iii. 279. "The Dragon of Wantley" is a satire on the old ballads of chivalry.]

[Footnote 301: See Nos. 3, 63.]

[Footnote 302: In the list of characters, Wycherley defines Novel as "a pert railing coxcomb, and an admirer of novelties," and Major Oldfox as "an old impertinent fop, given to scribbling."]

[Footnote 303: James Cavallier was the celebrated leader of the French Protestants in the Cevennes, when these warlike but enthusiastic mountaineers opposed the tyranny of Lewis XIV. and made a vigorous stand against the whole power of France, which for a long time laboured in vain to subdue them. It was in the heat of this gallant struggle to preserve themselves from religious slavery, that the first seeds of that wild fanaticism were sown, which afterwards grew up to such an amazing extravagance, and distinguished them, by the name of French Prophets, among the most extraordinary enthusiasts that are to be found in the history of human folly. Cavallier, who found in his latter days an hospitable asylum in Ireland, published, in 1726, "Memoirs of the Wars of the Cevennes, under Col. Cavallier, in defence of the Protestants persecuted in that country, and of the peace concluded between him and the Mareschal Duke of Villars; of his conference with the King of France, after the conclusion of the peace; with letters relating thereto, from Mareschal Villars, and Chamillard, secretary of state." (Percy.)]

[Footnote 304: It was a younger brother, an abbe, who used his pen and sword against Lewis XIV. He was employed in England, had preferment in the army, and a pension; but, being found a useless villain, he was soon discarded. He then endeavoured to make his peace with France, by acting here as a spy; but being detected, he was brought before the Cabinet Council, to be examined, March 8, 1711. In the course of his examination he took an opportunity to stab Mr. Harley. Of the wounds given to this assassin on that occasion, he died in Newgate soon after. See the "Narrative of Guiscard's Examination," by Mrs. Manley, from facts communicated to her by Dr. Swift. See also Examiner, No. 32. (Nichols.)]

[Footnote 305: Soon after the conclusion of the late treaty of peace, the French king dispersed a letter through his dominions, wherein he shows the reasons why he could not ratify the preliminaries. Vide the public newspapers of this date. (Steele.)]

[Footnote 306: N.B.—Mons. Bernard and the chief bankers of France became bankrupts about this time (Steele).—See news paragraph in Nos. 3, 5, 9.]



No. 30. [STEELE.

From Thursday, June 16, to Saturday, June 18, 1709.

* * * * *

From my own Apartment, June 16.

The vigilance, the anxiety, the tenderness, which I have for the good people of England, I am persuaded will in time be much commended; but I doubt whether they will ever be rewarded. However, I must go on cheerfully in my work of reformation: that being my great design, I am studious to prevent my labours increasing upon me; therefore am particularly observant of the temper and inclinations of childhood and youth, that we may not give vice and folly supplies from the growing generation. It is hardly to be imagined how useful this study is, and what great evils or benefits arise from putting us in our tender years to what we are fit, or unfit: therefore on Tuesday last (with a design to sound their inclinations) I took three lads who are under my guardianship a rambling, in a hackney-coach, to show them the town, as the lions,[307] the tombs,[308] Bedlam,[309] and the other places which are entertainments to raw minds, because they strike forcibly on the fancy. The boys are brothers, one of sixteen, the other of fourteen, the other of twelve. The first was his father's darling, the second his mother's, and the third is mine, who am their uncle. Mr. William is a lad of true genius; but being at the upper end of a great school, and having all the lads below him, his arrogance is insupportable. If I begin to show a little of my Latin, he immediately interrupts: "Uncle, under favour, that which you say is not understood in that manner." "Brother," says my boy Jack, "you do not show your manners much in contradicting my Uncle Isaac." "You queer cur," says Mr. William, "do you think my uncle takes any notice of such a dull rogue as you are?" Mr. William goes on; "He is the most stupid of all my mother's children: he knows nothing of his book: when he should mind that, he is hiding or hoarding his taws and marbles, or laying up farthings. His way of thinking is, four and twenty farthings make sixpence, and two sixpences a shilling, two shillings and sixpence half a crown, and two half-crowns five shillings. So within these two months, the close hunks has scraped up twenty shillings, and we'll make him spend it all before he comes home." Jack immediately claps his hands into both pockets, and turns as pale as ashes. There is nothing touches a parent (and such I am to Jack) so nearly, as a provident temper. This lad has in him the true temper for a good husband, a kind father, and an honest executor. All the great people you see make considerable figures on the 'Change, in Court, and sometimes in Senates, are such as in reality have no greater faculty than what may be called human instinct, which is a natural tendency to their own preservation, and that of their friends, without being capable of striking out of the road for adventures. There is Sir William Scrip was of this sort of capacity from his childhood: he has bought the country round him, and makes a bargain better than Sir Harry Wildfire with all his wit and humour. Sir Harry never wants money but he comes to Scrip, laughs at him half an hour, and then gives bond for the other thousand. The close men are incapable of placing merit anywhere but in their pence, and therefore gain it; while others, who have larger capacities, are diverted from the pursuit by enjoyments, which can be supported only by that cash which they despise; and therefore are in the end, slaves to their inferiors both in fortune and understanding. I once heard a man of excellent sense observe, that more affairs in the world failed by being in the hands of men of too large capacities for their business, than by being in the conduct of such as wanted abilities to execute them. Jack therefore being of a plodding make, shall be a citizen; and I design him to be the refuge of the family in their distress, as well as their jest in prosperity. His brother Will, shall go to Oxford with all speed, where, if he does not arrive at being a man of sense, he will soon be informed wherein he is a coxcomb. There is in that place such a true spirit of raillery and humour, that if they can't make you a wise man, they will certainly let you know you are a fool, which is all my cousin wants to cease to be so. Thus having taken these two out of the way, I have leisure to look at my third lad. I observe in the young rogue a natural subtilty of mind, which discovers itself rather in forbearing to declare his thoughts on any occasion, than in any visible way of exerting himself in discourse. For which reason I will place him where, if he commits no faults, he may go farther than those in other stations, though they excel in virtues. The boy is well fashioned, and will easily fall into a graceful manner; wherefore, I have a design to make him a page to a great lady of my acquaintance; by which means he will be well skilled in the common modes of life, and make a greater progress in the world by that knowledge, than with the greatest qualities without it. A good mien in a Court will carry a man greater lengths than a good understanding in any other place. We see a world of pains taken, and the best years of life spent, in collecting a set of thoughts in a college for the conduct of life; and after all, the man so qualified shall hesitate in his speech to a good suit of clothes, and want common sense before an agreeable woman. Hence it is, that wisdom, valour, justice, and learning, can't keep a man in countenance that is possessed with these excellences, if he wants that less art of life and behaviour, called "good breeding." A man endowed with great perfections without this, is like one who has his pockets full of gold, but always wants change for his ordinary occasions. Will. Courtly is a living instance of this truth, and has had the same education which I am giving my nephew. He never spoke a thing but what was said before; and yet can converse with the wittiest men without being ridiculous. Among the learned, he does not appear ignorant; nor with the wise, indiscreet. Living in conversation from his infancy, makes him nowhere at a loss; and a long familiarity with the persons of men, is in a manner of the same service to him, as if he knew their arts. As ceremony is the invention of wise men to keep fools at a distance, so good breeding is an expedient to make fools and wise men equals.

Will's Coffee-house, June 17.

The suspension of the playhouse[310] has made me have nothing to send you from hence; but calling here this evening, I found the party I usually sit with, upon the business of writing, and examining what was the handsomest style in which to address women, and write letters of gallantry. Many were the opinions which were immediately declared on this subject: some were for a certain softness; some for I know not what delicacy; others for something inexpressibly tender: when it came to me, I said there was no rule in the world to be made for writing letters, but that of being as near what you speak face to face as you can; which is so great a truth, that I am of opinion, writing has lost more mistresses than any one mistake in the whole legend of love. For when you write to a lady for whom you have a solid and honourable love, the great idea you have of her, joined to a quick sense of her absence, fills your mind with a sort of tenderness, that gives your language too much the air of complaint, which is seldom successful. For a man may flatter himself as he pleases, but he will find, that the women have more understanding in their own affairs than we have, and women of spirit are not to be won by mourners. Therefore he that can keep handsomely within rules, and support the carriage of a companion to his mistress, is much more likely to prevail, than he who lets her see, the whole relish of his life depends upon her. If possible therefore divert your mistress, rather than sigh to her. The pleasant man she will desire for her own sake; but the languishing lover has nothing to hope from but her pity. To show the difference I produced two letters a lady gave me, which had been writ to her by two gentlemen who pretended to her, but were both killed the next day after the date at the battle of Almanza. One of them was a mercurial gay-humoured man; the other a man of a serious, but a great and gallant spirit. Poor Jack Careless! This is his letter: you see how it is folded: the air of it is so negligent, one might have read half of it by peeping into it, without breaking it open. He had no exactness.

"MADAM,

"It is a very pleasant circumstance I am in, that while I should be thinking of the good company we are to meet within a day or two, where we shall go to loggerheads, my thoughts are running upon a fair enemy in England. I was in hopes I had left you there; but you follow the camp, though I have endeavoured to make some of our leaguer ladies drive you out of the field. All my comfort is, you are more troublesome to my colonel than myself: I permit you to visit me only now and then; but he downright keeps you. I laugh at his Honour as far as his gravity will allow me; but I know him to be a man of too much merit to succeed with a woman. Therefore defend your heart as well as you can, I shall come home this winter irresistibly dressed, and with quite a new foreign air. And so I had like to say, I rest, but alas! I remain,

"Madam,

"Your most obedient,

"Most humble Servant,

"JOHN CARELESS."

Now for Colonel Constant's epistle; you see it is folded and directed with the utmost care.

"MADAM,

"I do myself the honour to write to you this evening, because I believe to-morrow will be a day of battle, and something forebodes in my breast that I shall fall in it. If it proves so, I hope you will hear, I have done nothing below a man who had a love of his country, quickened by a passion for a woman of honour. If there be anything noble in going to a certain death; if there be any merit, that I meet it with pleasure, by promising myself a place in your esteem; if your applause, when I am no more, is preferable to the most glorious life without you: I say, madam, if any of these considerations can have weight with you, you will give me a kind place in your memory, which I prefer to the glory of Caesar. I hope, this will be read, as it is writ, with tears."

The beloved lady is a woman of a sensible mind; but she has confessed to me, that after all her true and solid value for Constant, she had much more concern for the loss of Careless. Those great and serious spirits have something equal to the adversities they meet with, and consequently lessen the objects of pity. Great accidents seem not cut out so much for men of familiar characters, which makes them more easily pitied, and soon after beloved. Add to this, that the sort of love which generally succeeds, is a stranger to awe and distance. I asked Romana, whether of the two she should have chosen had they survived? She said, she knew she ought to have taken Constant; but believed she should have chosen Careless.

St. James's Coffee-house, June 17.

Letters from Lisbon of the 9th instant, N.S., say, that the enemy's army, having blocked up Olivenza, was posted on the Guadiana. The Portuguese are very apprehensive that the garrison of that place, though it consists of five of the best regiments of their army, will be obliged to surrender, if not timely relieved, they not being supplied with provisions for more than six weeks. Hereupon their generals held a council of war on the 4th instant, wherein it was concluded to advance towards Badajos. With this design the army decamped on the 5th from Jerumena, and marched to Cancaon. It is hoped, that if the enemy follow their motions, they may have opportunity to put a sufficient quantity of provision and ammunition into Olivenza.

Mr. Bickerstaff gives notice to all persons that dress themselves as they please, without regard to decorum (as with blue and red stockings in mourning; tucked cravats, and nightcap wigs, before people of the first quality) that he has yet received no fine for indulging them in that liberty, and that he expects their compliance with this demand, or that they go home immediately and shift themselves. This is further to acquaint the town, that the report that the hosiers, toymen, and milliners, have compounded with Mr. Bickerstaff for tolerating such enormities, is utterly false and scandalous.



[Footnote 307: At the Tower of London. The Tower menagerie was one of the sights of London until its removal in 1834. See Addison's Freeholder; No. 47.]

[Footnote 308: In Westminster Abbey.]

[Footnote 309: The Priory of Bethlem, in St. Botolph Without, Bishopsgate, was given by Henry VIII. to the Corporation of London, and was from thenceforth used as a hospital for lunatics. In 1675 a new hospital was built near London Wall, in Moorfields, at a cost of L17,000. See Hogarth's "Rake's Progress," Plate 8. In No. 127, Steele calls Bedlam "that magnificent palace."]

[Footnote 310: Drury Lane Theatre was closed on June 6, 1709, by order of the Lord Chamberlain, in consequence of Rich's ill-treatment of the actors.]



No. 31. [STEELE.

From Saturday, June 18, to Tuesday, June 21, 1709.

* * * * *

Grecian Coffee-house, June 18.

In my dissertation against the custom of single combat,[311] it has been objected, that there is not learning, or much reading, shown therein, which is the very life and soul of all treatises; for which reason, being always easy to receive admonitions, and reform my errors, I thought fit to consult this learned board on the subject. Upon proposing some doubts, and desiring their assistance, a very hopeful young gentleman, my relation, who is to be called to the bar within a year and a half at farthest, told me, that he had ever since I first mentioned duelling turned his head that way; and that he was principally moved thereto, by reason that he thought to follow the circuits in the North of England and South of Scotland, and to reside mostly at his own estate at Landbadernawz[312] in Cardiganshire. The northern Britons and southern Scots are a warm people, and the Welsh a nation of gentlemen; so that it behoved him to understand well the science of quarrelling. The young gentleman proceeded admirably well, and gave the board an account, that he had read Fitzherbert's "Grand Abridgment,"[313] and had found, that duelling is a very ancient part of the law: for when a man is sued, be it for his life or his land, the person that joins the issue, whether plaintiff or defendant, may put the trial upon the duel. Further he argued, under favour of the court, that when the issue is joined by the duel in treason or other capital crimes, the parties accused and accuser must fight in their own proper persons: but if the dispute be for lands, you may hire a champion at Hockley-in-the-Hole,[314] for anywhere else. This part of the law we had from the Saxons; and they had it, as also the trial by ordeal, from the Laplanders.[315] "It is indeed agreed," said he, "the Southern and Eastern nations never knew anything of it; for though the ancient Romans would scold, and call names filthily, yet there is not an example of a challenge that ever passed amongst them." His quoting the Eastern nations, put another gentleman in mind of an account he had from a boatswain of an East Indiaman; which was, that a Chinese had tricked and bubbled him, and that when he came to demand satisfaction the next morning, and like a true tar of honour called him "Son of a whore," "Liar," "Dog," and other rough appellatives used by persons conversant with winds and waves; the Chinese, with great tranquillity, desired him not to come aboard fasting, nor put himself in a heat, for it would prejudice his health. Thus the East knows nothing of this gallantry. There sat at the left of the table a person of a venerable aspect, who asserted, that half the impositions which are put upon these ages, have been transmitted by writers who have given too great pomp and magnificence to the exploits of the ancient Bear Garden, and made their gladiators, by fabulous tradition, greater than Gorman[316] and others of Great Britain. He informed the company, that he had searched authorities for what he said, and that a learned antiquary, Humphrey Scarecrow, Esq., of Hockley-in-the-Hole, recorder to the Bear Garden, was then writing a discourse on the subject. It appears by the best accounts, says this gentleman, that the high names which are used among us with so great veneration, were no other than stage-fighters, and worthies of the ancient Bear Garden. The renowned Hercules always carried a quarterstaff, and was from thence called Claviger. A learned chronologist is about proving what wood this staff was made of, whether oak, ash, or crab-tree. The first trial of skill he ever performed, was with one Cacus, a deer-stealer; the next was with Typhonus, a giant of forty feet four inches. Indeed it was unhappily recorded, that meeting at last with a sailor's wife, she made his staff of prowess serve her own use, and dwindle away to a distaff: she clapped him on an old tar jacket of her husband's; so that this great hero drooped like a scabbed sheep. Him his contemporary Theseus succeeded in the Bear Garden, which honour he held for many years: this grand duellist went to hell, and was the only one of that sort that ever came back again. As for Achilles and Hector (as the ballads of those times mention), they were pretty smart fellows; they fought at sword and buckler; but the former had much the better of it; his mother, who was an oyster-woman, having got a blacksmith of Lemnos to make her son's weapons. There is a pair of trusty Trojans in a song of Virgil's, that were famous for handling their gauntlets, Dares, and Entellus;[317] and indeed it does appear, they fought [for] no sham prize. What arms the great Alexander used, is uncertain; however, the historian mentions, when he attacked Thalestris, it was only at single rapier; but the weapon soon failed; for it was always observed, that the Amazons had a sort of enchantment about them, which made the blade of the weapon, though of never so good metal, at every home push, lose its edge and grow feeble. The Roman Bear Garden was abundantly more magnificent than anything Greece could boast of; it flourished most under those delights of mankind, Nero and Domitian: at one time it is recorded, four hundred senators entered the list, and thought it an honour to be cudgelled and quarterstaffed.[318] I observe, the Lanistae were the people chiefly employed, which makes me imagine our Bear Garden copied much after this, the butchers being the greatest men in it. Thus far the glory and honour of the Bear Garden stood secure, till fate, that irresistible ruler of sublunary things, in that universal ruin of arts and politer learning, by those savage people the Goths and Vandals, destroyed and levelled it to the ground. Thus fell the grandeur and bravery of the Roman state, till at last the warlike genius (but accompanied with more courtesy) revived in the Christian world under those puissant champions, St. George, St. Denis, and other dignified heroes: one killed his dragon, another his lion, and were all afterwards canonised for it, having red letters before them to illustrate their martial temper.[319] The Spanish nation, it must be owned, were devoted to gallantry and chivalry above the rest of the world. What a great figure does that great name, Don Quixote, make in history? How shines this glorious star in the Western world? O renowned hero! O mirror of knighthood!

Thy brandished whinyard all the world defies, And kills as sure as del Tobosa's eyes.

I am forced to break off abruptly, being sent for in haste, with my rule, to measure the degree of an affront, before the two gentlemen (who are now in their breeches and pumps ready to engage behind Montague House[320]) have made a pass.

From my own Apartment, June 18.

It is an unreasonable objection I find against my labours, that my stock is not all my own, and therefore the kind reception I have met with is not so deserved as it ought to be. But I hope, though it be never so true that I am obliged to my friends for laying their cash in my hands, since I give it them again when they please, and leave them at their liberty to call it home, it will not hurt me with my gentle readers. Ask all the merchants who act upon consignments, where is the necessity (if they answer readily what their correspondents draw) of their being wealthy themselves? Ask the greatest bankers, if all the men they deal with were to draw at once, what would be the consequence? But indeed a country friend has writ me a letter which gives me great mortification; wherein I find I am so far from expecting a supply from thence, that some have not heard of me, and the rest do not understand me. His epistle is as follows:[321]

"DEAR COUSIN,

"I thought when I left the town to have raised your fame here, and helped you to support it by intelligence from hence; but alas! they had never heard of the Tatler until I brought down a set. I lent them from house to house; but they asked me what they meant. I began to enlighten them, by telling who and who were supposed to be intended by the characters drawn. I said for instance, Chloe[322] and Clarissa are two eminent toasts. A gentleman (who keeps his greyhound and gun, and one would think might know better) told me, he supposed they were papishes, for their names were not English: 'Then,' said he, 'why do you call live people "toasts"?' I answered, that was a new name found out by the wits, to make a lady have the same effect as burridge[323] in the glass when a man is drinking. 'But,' says I, 'sir, I perceive this is to you all bamboozling; why you look as if you were Don Diego'd[324] to the tune of a thousand pounds.' All this good language was lost upon him: he only stared, though he is as good a scholar as any layman in the town, except the barber. Thus, cousin, you must be content with London for the centre of your wealth and fame; we have no relish for you. Wit must describe its proper circumference, and not go beyond it, lest (like little boys, when they straggle out of their own parish), it may wander to places where it is not known, and be lost. Since it is so, you must excuse me that I am forced at a visit to sit silent, and only lay up what excellent things pass at such conversations.

"This evening I was with a couple of young ladies; one of them has the character of the prettiest company, yet really I thought her but silly; the other, who talked a great deal less, I observed to have understanding. The lady who is reckoned such a companion among her acquaintance, has only, with a very brisk air, a knack of saying the commonest things: the other, with a sly serious one, says home things enough. The first (Mistress Giddy) is very quick; but the second (Mrs. Slim) fell into Giddy's own style, and was as good company as she. Giddy happens to drop her glove; Slim reaches it to her: 'Madam,' says Giddy, 'I hope you'll have a better office.' Upon which Slim immediately repartees, and sits in her lap, and cries, 'Are you not sorry for my heaviness?' This sly wench pleased me to see how she hit her height of understanding so well. We sat down to supper. Says Giddy, mighty prettily, 'Two hands in a dish and one in a purse': says Slim, 'Ay, madam, the more the merrier; but the fewer the better cheer.' I quickly took the hint, and was as witty and talkative as they. Says I,

"'He that will not when he may, When he will he shall have nay;'

and so helped myself. Giddy turns about, 'What, have you found your tongue?' 'Yes,' says I, 'it is manners to speak when I am spoken to; but your greatest talkers are little doers, and the still sow eats up all the broth.' 'Ha! ha!' says Giddy, 'one would think he had nothing in him, and do you hear how he talks when he pleases.' I grew immediately roguish and pleasant to a degree in the same strain. Slim, who knew how good company we had been, cries, 'You'll certainly print this bright conversation.'"

It is so; and hereby you may see how small an appearance the prettiest things said in company, make when in print.

St. James's Coffee-house, June 20.

A mail from Lisbon has brought advices of June the 12th, from the King of Portugal's army encamped at Torre Allegada, which inform us, that the general of the army called a court-martial on the 4th at the camp of Gerumhena, where it was resolved to march with a design to attempt the succour of Olivenza. Accordingly the army moved on the 5th, and marched towards Badajos. Upon their approach, the Marquis de Bay detached so great a party from the blockade of Olivenza, that the Marquis des Minas, at the head of a large detachment, covered a great convoy of provisions towards Olivenza, which threw in their stores, and marched back to the main army, without molestation from the Spaniards. They add, that each army must necessarily march into quarters within twenty days.

Whosoever can discover a surgeon's apprentice, who fell upon Mr. Bickerstaff's messenger, or (as the printers call him) devil, going to the press, and tore out of his hand part of his essay against duels, in the fragments of which were the words, "You lie," and "Man of honour," taken up at the Temple Gate; and the words, "Perhaps,"—"May be not,"—"By your leave, sir,"—and other terms of provocation, taken up at the door of Young Man's Coffee-house,[325] shall receive satisfaction from Mr. Morphew, besides a set of arguments to be spoken to any man in a passion, which, if the said enraged man listens to, will prevent quarrelling.

Mr. Bickerstaff does hereby give notice, that he has taken the two famous universities of this land under his immediate care, and does hereby promise all tutors and pupils, that he will hear what can be said of each side between them, and to correct them impartially, by placing them in orders and classes in the learned world, according to their merit.[326]



[Footnote 311: See Nos. 25, 26, 28, 29.]

[Footnote 312: Probably meant for Llanbadern Vawr, if not a name coined for the occasion.]

[Footnote 313: Sir Anthony Fitzherbert's book was published in 1514.]

[Footnote 314: See Nos. 28, 134.]

[Footnote 315: See Selden, "De Duello" (1610), p. 19.]

[Footnote 316: A prize-fighter mentioned in Lansdowne's epilogue to "The Jew of Venice."]

[Footnote 317: "AEneid," v. 437 seq.]

[Footnote 318: Suetonius, "Life of Nero," chap. 12.]

[Footnote 319: An allusion to the rubrics in Roman missals.]

[Footnote 320: The fields at the back of Montague House, Bloomsbury, were a favourite place for duels in the first half of the eighteenth century. Cf. Spectator, No. 91: "I shall be glad to meet you immediately in Hyde Park or behind Montague House, or attend you to Barn Elms, or any other fashionable place that's fit for a gentleman to die in."]

[Footnote 321: It has been suggested, with some probability, that this letter is by Swift.]

[Footnote 322: See No. 4.]

[Footnote 323: Borago was a plant formerly used as a cordial.]

[Footnote 324: See No. 21.]

[Footnote 325: Young Man's Coffee-house at Charing Cross, had a back door into Spring Garden. It seems to have been specially frequented by officers.]

[Footnote 326: "Mr. Bickerstaff has received the advices from Clay Hill, which, with all intelligence from honest Mr. Sturdy and others, shall have their place in our future story" (folio).]



No. 32. [SWIFT AND STEELE.

From Tuesday, June 21, to Thursday, June 23, 1709.

* * * * *

White's Chocolate-house, June 22.

An answer to the following letter being absolutely necessary to be despatched with all expedition, I must trespass upon all that come with horary questions into my ante-chamber, to give the gentlemen my opinion.

"To Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.

"June 18, 1709.

"SIR,

"I know not whether you ought to pity or laugh at me; for I am fallen desperately in love with a professed Platonne, the most unaccountable creature of her sex. To hear her talk seraphics, and run over Norris,[327] and More,[328] and Milton,[329] and the whole set of intellectual triflers, torments me heartily; for to a lover who understands metaphors, all this pretty prattle of ideas gives very fine views of pleasure, which only the dear declaimer prevents, by understanding them literally. Why should she wish to be a cherubim, when it is flesh and blood that makes her adorable? If I speak to her, that is a high breach of the idea of intuition: if I offer at her hand or lip, she shrinks from the touch like a sensitive plant, and would contract herself into mere spirit. She calls her chariot, 'vehicle'; her furbelowed scarf, 'pinions': her blue mant and petticoat is her 'azure dress'; and her footman goes by the name of Oberon. It is my misfortune to be six foot and a half high, two full spans between the shoulders, thirteen inches diameter in the calves; and before I was in love, I had a noble stomach, and usually went to bed sober with two bottles. I am not quite six and twenty, and my nose is marked truly aquiline. For these reasons, I am in a very particular manner her aversion. What shall I do? Impudence itself cannot reclaim her. If I write miserable, she reckons me among the children of perdition, and discards me her region: if I assume the gross and substantial, she plays the real ghost with me, and vanishes in a moment. I had hopes in the hypocrisy of her sex; but perseverance makes it as bad as fixed aversion. I desire your opinion, whether I may not lawfully play the Inquisition upon her, make use of a little force, and put her to the rack and the torture, only to convince her she has really fine limbs, without spoiling or distorting them. I expect your directions, ere I proceed to dwindle and fall away with despair; which at present I don't think advisable; because, if she should recant, she may then hate me perhaps in the other extreme for my tenuity. I am (with impatience) "Your most humble Servant,

"CHARLES STURDY."

My patient has put his case with very much warmth, and represented it in so lively a manner, that I see both his torment and tormentor with great perspicuity. This order of platonic ladies are to be dealt with in a peculiar manner from all the rest of the sex. Flattery is the general way, and the way in this case; but it is not to be done grossly. Every man that has wit, and humour, and raillery, can make a good flatterer for woman in general; but a Platonne is not to be touched with panegyric: she will tell you, it is a sensuality in the soul to be delighted that way. You are not therefore to commend, but silently consent to all she does, and says. You are to consider in her the scorn of you is not humour, but opinion. There were some years since a set of these ladies who were of quality, and gave out, that virginity was to be their state of life during this mortal condition, and therefore resolved to join their fortunes, and erect a nunnery. The place of residence was pitched upon; and a pretty situation, full of natural falls and risings of waters, with shady coverts, and flowery arbours, was approved by seven of the founders. There were as many of our sex who took the liberty to visit those mansions of intended severity; among others, a famous rake of that time, who had the grave way to an excellence. He came in first; but upon seeing a servant coming towards him, with a design to tell him, this was no place for him or his companions, up goes my grave impudence to the maid: "Young woman," said he, "if any of the ladies are in the way on this side of the house, pray carry us on the other side towards the gardens: we are, you must know, gentlemen that are travelling England; after which we shall go into foreign parts, where some of us have already been." Here he bows in the most humble manner, and kissed the girl, who knew not how to behave to such a sort of carriage. He goes on: "Now you must know we have an ambition to have it to say, that we have a Protestant nunnery in England: but pray Mrs. Betty—" "Sir," she replied, "my name is Susan, at your service." "Then I heartily beg your pardon—" "No offence in the least," says she, "for I have a cousin-german whose name is Betty." "Indeed," said he, "I protest to you that was more than I knew, I spoke at random: but since it happens that I was near in the right, give me leave to present this gentleman to the favour of a civil salute." His friend advances, and so on, till that they had all saluted her. By this means, the poor girl was in the middle of the crowd of these fellows, at a loss what to do, without courage to pass through them; and the Platonics, at several peep-holes, pale, trembling, and fretting. Rake perceived they were observed, and therefore took care to keep Suky in chat with questions concerning their way of life; when appeared at last Madonella,[330] a lady who had writ a fine book concerning the recluse life, and was the projectrix of the foundation. She approaches into the hall; and Rake, knowing the dignity of his own mien and aspect, goes deputy from his company. She begins, "Sir, I am obliged to follow the servant, who was sent out to know, what affair could make strangers press upon a solitude which we, who are to inhabit this place, have devoted to Heaven and our own thoughts?" "Madam," replies Rake, with an air of great distance, mixed with a certain indifference, by which he could dissemble dissimulation, "your great intention has made more noise in the world than you design it should; and we travellers, who have seen many foreign institutions of this kind, have a curiosity to see, in its first rudiments, this seat of primitive piety; for such it must be called by future ages, to the eternal honour of the founders. I have read Madonella's excellent and seraphic discourse on this subject." The lady immediately answers, "If what I have said could have contributed to raise any thoughts in you that may make for the advancement of intellectual and divine conversation, I should think myself extremely happy." He immediately fell back with the profoundest veneration; then advancing, "Are you then that admired lady? If I may approach lips which have uttered things so sacred—" He salutes her. His friends follow his example. The devoted within stood in amazement where this would end, to see Madonella receive their address and their company. But Rake goes on, "We would not transgress rules; but if we may take the liberty to see the place you have thought fit to choose for ever, we would go into such parts of the gardens as is consistent with the severities you have imposed on yourselves." To be short, Madonella permitted Rake to lead her into the assembly of nuns, followed by his friends, and each took his fair one by the hand, after due explanation, to walk round the gardens. The conversation turned upon the lilies, the flowers, the arbors, and the growing vegetables; and Rake had the solemn impudence, when the whole company stood round him, to say, "That he sincerely wished that men might rise out of the earth like plants; and that our minds were not of necessity to be sullied with carnivorous appetites for the generation, as well as support of our species."[331] This was spoke with so easy and fixed an assurance, that Madonella answered, "Sir, under the notion of a pious thought, you deceive yourself in wishing an institution foreign to that of Providence: these desires were implanted in us for reverent purposes, in preserving the race of men, and giving opportunities for making our chastity more heroic." The conference was continued in this celestial strain, and carried on so well by the managers on both sides, that it created a second and a third[332] interview; and, without entering into further particulars, there was hardly one of them but was a mother or father that day twelve-month.

Any unnatural part is long taking up, and as long laying aside; therefore Mr. Sturdy may assure himself, Platonica will fly for ever from a forward behaviour; but if he approaches her according to this model, she will fall in with the necessities of mortal life, and condescend to look with pity upon an unhappy man, imprisoned in so much body, and urged by such violent desires.

From my own Apartment, June 22.

The evils of this town increase upon me to so great a degree, that I am half afraid I shall not leave the world much better than I found it. Several worthy gentlemen and critics have applied to me, to give my censure of an enormity which has been revived (after being long oppressed) and is called Punning.[333] I have several arguments ready to prove, that he cannot be a man of honour who is guilty of this abuse of human society. But the way to expose it, is like the expedient of curing drunkenness, showing a man in that condition: therefore I must give my reader warning, to expect a collection of these offences; without which preparation, I thought it too adventurous to introduce the very mention of it in good company; and hope I shall be understood to do it, as a divine mentions oaths and curses, only for their condemnation. I shall dedicate this discourse to a gentleman my very good friend, who is the Janus[334] of our times, and whom by his years and wit, you would take to be of the last age; but by his dress and morals, of this.

St. James's Coffee-house, June 22.

Last night arrived two mails from Holland, which brings letters from the Hague of the 28th instant, N.S., with advice, that the enemy lay encamped behind a strong retrenchment, with the marsh of Remieres on their right and left, extending itself as far as Bethune: La Bassee is in their front, Lens in their rear, and their camp is strengthened by another line from Lens to Douay. The Duke of Marlborough caused an exact observation to be made of their ground, and the works by which they were covered, which appeared so strong, that it was not thought proper to attack them in their present posture. However, the Duke thought fit to make a feint as if he designed it; and accordingly marching from the abbey at Looze, as did Prince Eugene from Lampret, advanced with all possible diligence towards the enemy. To favour the appearance of an intended assault, the ways were made, and orders distributed in such a manner, that none in either camp could have thoughts of anything but charging the enemy by break of day the next morning: but soon after the fall of the night of the 26th, the whole army faced towards Tournay, which place they invested early in the morning of the 27th. The Marshal Villars was so confident that we designed to attack him, that he had drawn great part of the garrison of the place, which is now invested, into the field: for which reason, it is presumed it must submit within a small time; which the enemy cannot prevent, but by coming out of their present camp, and hazarding a general engagement. These advices add, that the garrison of Mons had marched out under the command of Marshal d'Arco; which, with the Bavarians, Walloons, and the troops of Cologne, have joined the grand army of the enemy.



[Footnote 327: John Norris (1657-1711), the divine, published, in 1688, "The Theory and Regulation of Love, a Moral Essay; to which are added Letters Philosophical and Moral between the author and Doctor Henry More."]

[Footnote 328: Henry More, the platonist (1614-87), published "Divine Dialogues," "Conjectura Cabalistica," and many other works.]

[Footnote 329: It is not clear why Milton is bracketed with Norris and More; perhaps Swift had in mind such passages about heavenly love as that in "Paradise Lost," viii. 588-614.]

[Footnote 330: Swift seems to have been the author of this first portion of No. 32, which contains a scandalous attack on Mary Astell. Nichols thought that Addison also had a share in it. See Nos. 59, 63. Mrs. Astell, a friend of Lady Elizabeth Hastings and John Norris, published, in 1694, her "Serious Proposal to the Ladies," advocating a Church of England monastery, without any irrevocable vows. Provision was made for mental as well as moral training; in fact, the institution was to have been "rather academical than monastic." But Bishop Burnet advised Lady Elizabeth Hastings not to subscribe to the proposed building, and the scheme fell through. In 1709, Miss Astell published a book called "Bart'lemy Fair; or, An Enquiry after Wit.... By Mr. Wotton, in answer to Lord Shaftesbury's Letter concerning Enthusiasm, and other profane writers." In the advertisement to the Second Edition ("An Enquiry after Wit," &c., 1722), Mary Astell says that, although her book was at first published under a borrowed name, it was ascribed to her, and drew upon her the resentment of that sort of men of wit who were exposed, and was the true cause of the fable published in the Tatler a little after the "Enquiry" appeared. But she notes that, although the Tatler showed its teeth against the "Proposal to the Ladies," the compilator made amends to the author (if not to the bookseller), by transcribing above a hundred pages into his Ladies' Library verbatim, except in a few places, which would not be found to be improved. The "Enquiry after Wit" is dedicated "To the most Illustrious Society of the Kit-Cats," with many sarcastic allusions to their luxury, oaths, &c. True, their names had not been heard of from Hochsted or Ramillies, but then their heroism found in every place an ample theatre for their merits. "The Bath, the Wells, and every Fair, each Chocolate, Gaming House and Tavern resounds with your noble exploits."]

[Footnote 331: This is borrowed from Sir Thomas Browne's "Religio Medici," part ii. sect. 9.]

[Footnote 332: "Second," in original editions.]

[Footnote 333: There is an apology for punning in No. 36 of the Guardian.]

[Footnote 334: Swift.]



No. 33. [STEELE.

By Mrs. JENNY DISTAFF, half-sister to Mr. BICKERSTAFF.

From Thursday, June 23, to Saturday, June 25, 1709.

* * * * *

From my own Apartment, June 23.

My brother has made an excursion into the country, and the work against Saturday lies upon me. I am very glad I have got pen and ink in my hand; for I have for some time longed for his absence, to give a right idea of things, which I thought he put in a very odd light, and some of them to the disadvantage of my own sex. It is much to be lamented, that it is necessary to make discourses, and publish treatises, to keep the horrid creatures, the men, within the rules of common decency. Turning over the papers of memorials or hints for the ensuing discourses, I find a letter subscribed by Mr. Truman.

"SIR,

"I am lately come to town, and have read your works with much pleasure. You make wit subservient to good principles and good manners. Yet, because I design to buy the Tatlers for my daughters to read, I take the freedom to desire you, for the future, to say nothing about any combat between Alexander and Thalestris."[335]

This offence gives me occasion to express myself with the resentment I ought, on people who take liberties of speech before that sex of whom the honoured names of mother, daughter, and sister, are a part: I had liked to have named wife in the number; but the senseless world are so mistaken in their sentiments of pleasure, that the most amiable term in human life is become the derision of fools and scorners. My brother and I have at least fifty times quarrelled upon this topic. I ever argue, that the frailties of women are to be imputed to the false ornaments which men of wit put upon our folly and coquetry. He lays all the vices of men upon women's secret approbation of libertine characters in them. I did not care to give up a point; but now he is out of the way, I cannot but own I believe there is very much in what he asserted: for if you will believe your eyes, and own, that the wickedest and the wittiest of them all marry one day or other, is it possible to believe, that if a man thought he should be for ever incapable of being received by a woman of merit and honour, he would persist in an abandoned way, and deny himself the possibility of enjoying the happiness of well-governed desires, orderly satisfactions, and honourable methods of life? If our sex were wise, a lover should have a certificate from the last woman he served, how he was turned away, before he was received into the service of another: but at present any vagabond is welcome, provided he promises to enter into our livery. It is wonderful, that we will not take a footman without credentials from his last master; and in the greatest concern of life, we make no scruple of falling into a treaty with the most notorious offender in his behaviour against others. But this breach of commerce between the sexes, proceeds from an unaccountable prevalence of custom, by which a woman is to the last degree reproachable for being deceived, and a man suffers no loss of credit for being a deceiver. Since this tyrant humour has gained place, why are we represented in the writings of men in ill figures for artifice in our carriage, when we have to do with a professed impostor? When oaths, imprecations, vows, and adorations, are made use of as words of course, what arts are not necessary to defend us from such as glory in the breach of them? As for my part, I am resolved to hear all, and believe none of them; and therefore solemnly declare, no vow shall deceive me, but that of marriage: for I am turned of twenty, and being of a small fortune, some wit, and (if I can believe my lovers and my glass) handsome, I have heard all that can be said towards my undoing, and shall therefore, for warning sake, give an account of the offers that have been made me, my manner of rejecting them, and my assistances to keep my resolution. In the sixteenth year of my life, I fell into the acquaintance of a lady, extremely well known in this town for the quick advancement of her husband, and the honours and distinctions which her industry has procured him, and all who belong to her. This excellent body sat next to me for some months at church, and took the liberty (which she said her years and the zeal she had for my welfare gave her claim to) to assure me, that she observed some parts of my behaviour which would lead me into errors, and give encouragement to some to entertain hopes I did not think of. "What made you," said she, "look through your fan at that lord, when your eyes should have been turned upward, or closed in attention upon better objects?" I blushed, and pretended fifty odd excuses;—but confounded myself the more. She wanted nothing but to see that confusion, and goes on: "Nay, child, do not be troubled that I take notice of it, my value for you made me speak it; for though he is my kinsman, I have a nearer regard to virtue than any other consideration." She had hardly done speaking, when this noble lord came up to us, and took her hand to lead her to her coach. My head ran all that day and night on the exemplary carriage of this woman who could be so virtuously impertinent, as to admonish one she was hardly acquainted with. However, it struck upon the vanity of a girl that it may possibly be, his thoughts might have been as favourable of me, as mine were amorous of him, and as unlikely things as that have happened, if he should make me his wife. She never mentioned this more to me; but I still in all public places stole looks at this man, who easily observed my passion for him. It is so hard a thing to check the return of agreeable thoughts, that he became my dream, my vision, my food, my wish, my torment. That minister of darkness, the Lady Sempronia,[336] perceived too well the temper I was in, and would one day after evening service needs take me to the Park. When we were there, my lord passes by; I flushed into a flame. "Mrs. Distaff," said she, "you may very well remember the concern I was in upon the first notice I took of your regard to that lord, and forgive me, who had a tender friendship for your mother (now in her grave) that I am vigilant of your conduct." She went on with much severity, and after great solicitation, prevailed on me to go with her into the country, and there spend the ensuing summer out of the way of a man she saw I loved, and one whom she perceived meditated my ruin, by frequently desiring her to introduce him to me; which she absolutely refused, except he would give his honour that he had no other design but to marry me. To her country house a week or two after we went: there was at the farther end of her garden a kind of wilderness, in the middle of which ran a soft rivulet by an arbour of jessamine. In this place I usually passed my retired hours, and read some romantic or poetical tale till the close of the evening. It was near that time in the heat of summer, when gentle winds, soft murmurs of water, and notes of nightingales had given my mind an indolence, which added to that repose of soul, which twilight and the end of a warm day naturally throws upon the spirits. It was at such an hour, and in such a state of tranquillity I sat, when, to my unexpressible amazement, I saw my lord walking towards me, whom I knew not till that moment to have been in the country. I could observe in his approach the perplexity which attends a man big with design; and I had, while he was coming forward, time to reflect that I was betrayed; the sense of which gave me a resentment suitable to such a baseness: but when he entered into the bower where I was, my heart flew towards him, and, I confess, a certain joy came into my mind, with a hope that he might then make a declaration of honour and passion. This threw my eye upon him with such tenderness, as gave him power, with a broken accent, to begin. "Madam,—You will wonder—For it is certain, you must have observed—though I fear you will misinterpret the motives—But by Heaven, and all that's sacred! If you could—" Here he made a full stand. And I recovered power to say, "The consternation I am in you will not, I hope, believe—A helpless innocent maid—Besides that, the place—" He saw me in as great confusion as himself; which attributing to the same causes, he had the audaciousness to throw himself at my feet, and talk of the stillness of the evening; then ran into deifications of my person, pure flames, constant love, eternal raptures, and a thousand other phrases drawn from the images we have of heaven, which ill men use for the service of hell, were run over with uncommon vehemence. After which, he seized me in his arms: his design was too evident. In my utmost distress, I fell upon my knees—"My lord, pity me, on my knees—On my knees in the cause of virtue, as you were lately in that of wickedness. Can you think of destroying the labour of a whole life, the purpose of a long education, for the base service of a sudden appetite, to throw one that loves you, that dotes on you, out of the company and road of all that is virtuous and praiseworthy? Have I taken in all the instructions of piety, religion, and reason, for no other end, but to be the sacrifice of lust, and abandoned to scorn? Assume yourself, my lord, and do not attempt to vitiate a temple sacred to innocence, honour, and religion. If I have injured you, stab this bosom, and let me die, but not be ruined by the hand I love." The ardency of my passion made me incapable of uttering more; and I saw my lover astonished and reformed by my behaviour: when rushed in Sempronia. "Ha! Faithless, base man, could you then steal out of town, and lurk like a robber about my house for such brutish purposes?" My lord was by this time recovered, and fell into a violent laughter at the turn which Sempronia designed to give her villany. He bowed to me with the utmost respect: "Mrs. Distaff," said he, "be careful hereafter of your company"; and so retired. The fiend Sempronia congratulated my deliverance with a flood of tears. This nobleman has since very frequently made his addresses to me with honour, but I have as often refused them; as well knowing, that familiarity and marriage will make him, on some ill-natured occasion, call all I said in the arbour a theatrical action. Besides that, I glory in contemning a man who had thoughts to my dishonour. And if this method were the imitation of the whole sex, innocence would be the only dress of beauty; and all affectation by any other arts to please the eyes of men, would be banished to the stews for ever. The conquest of passion gives ten times more happiness than we can reap from the gratification of it; and she that has got over such a one as mine, will stand among beaux and pretty fellows, with as much safety as in a summer's day among grasshoppers and butterflies.

P.S.—I have ten millions of things more against men, if I ever get the pen again.

St. James's Coffee-house, June 24.

Our last advices from the Hague, dated the 28th instant, say, that on the 25th a squadron of Dutch men-of-war sailed out of the Texel to join Admiral Baker at Spithead. The 26th was observed as a day of fasting and humiliation, to implore a blessing on the arms of the Allies this ensuing campaign. Letters from Dresden are very particular in the account of the gallantry and magnificence in which that Court has appeared since the arrival of the King of Denmark. No day has passed in which public shows have not been exhibited for his entertainment and diversion: the last of that kind which is mentioned is a carousal, wherein many of the youth of the first quality, dressed in the most splendid manner, ran for the prize. His Danish Majesty condescended to the same; but having observed that there was a design laid to throw it in his way, passed by without attempting to gain it. The Court of Dresden was preparing to accompany his Danish Majesty to Potsdam, where the expectation of an interview of three kings had drawn together such multitudes of people, that many persons of distinction will be obliged to lie in tents as long as those Courts continue in that place.



[Footnote 335: See No. 31.]

[Footnote 336: See Sallust, "Bell. Catal." chap. 21. The person here referred to as Sempronia is said to be the same as the Madam d'Epingle elsewhere alluded to.]



No. 34. [STEELE.

By ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, Esq.

From Saturday, June 25, to Tuesday, June 28, 1709.

* * * * *

White's Chocolate-house, June 25.

Having taken upon me to cure all the distempers which proceed from affections of the mind, I have laboured since I first kept this public stage, to do all the good I could possibly, and have perfected many cures at my own lodging; carefully avoiding the common method of mountebanks, to do their most eminent operations in sight of the people; but must be so just to my patients as to declare, they have testified under their hands their sense of my poor abilities, and the good I have done them, which I publish for the benefit of the world, and not out of any thoughts of private advantage. I have cured fine Mrs. Spy of a great imperfection in her eyes, which made her eternally rolling them from one coxcomb to another in public places, in so languishing a manner, that it at once lessened her own power, and her beholder's vanity. Twenty drops of my ink, placed in certain letters on which she attentively looked for half an hour, have restored her to the true use of her sight; which is, to guide, and not mislead us. Ever since she took this liquor, which I call Bickerstaff's Circumspection Water, she looks right forward, and can bear being looked at for half a day without returning one glance. This water has a peculiar virtue in it, which makes it the only true cosmetic or beauty wash in the world: the nature of it is such, that if you go to a glass, with design to admire your face, it immediately changes it into downright deformity. If you consult it only to look with a better countenance upon your friends, it immediately gives an alacrity to the visage, and new grace to the whole person. There is indeed a great deal owing to the constitution of the person to whom it is applied: it is in vain to give it when the patient is in the rage of the distemper; a bride in her first month, a lady soon after her husband's being knighted, or any person of either sex who has lately obtained any new good fortune or preferment, must be prepared some time before they use it. It has an effect upon others, as well as the patient, when it is taken in due form. Lady Petulant has by the use of it cured her husband of jealousy, and Lady Gad her whole neighbourhood of detraction. The fame of these things, added to my being an old fellow, makes me extremely acceptable to the fair sex. You would hardly believe me, when I tell you there is not a man in town so much their delight as myself. They make no more of visiting me, than going to Madam d'Epingle's.[337] There were two of them, namely, Damia and Clidamira (I assure you women of distinction) who came to see me this morning in their way to prayers, and being in a very diverting humour as (innocence always makes people cheerful) they would needs have me, according to the distinction of "pretty" and "very pretty" fellows, inform them if I thought either of them had a title to the "very pretty" among those of their own sex; and if I did, which was the more deserving of the two. To put them to the trial, "Look ye," said I, "I must not rashly give my judgment in matters of this importance; pray let me see you dance: I play upon the kit."[338] They immediately fell back to the lower end of the room (you may be sure they curtsied low enough to me): and began. Never were two in the world so equally matched, and both scholars to my namesake Isaac.[339] Never was man in so dangerous a condition as myself, when they began to expand their charms. "O! ladies, ladies," cried I, "not half that air, you'll fire the house." Both smiled; for by-the bye, there's no carrying a metaphor too far, when a lady's charms are spoken of. Somebody, I think, has called a fine woman dancing, a brandished torch of beauty.[340] These rivals moved with such an agreeable freedom, that you would believe their gesture was the necessary effect of the music, and not the product of skill and practice. Now Clidamira came on with a crowd of graces, and demanded my judgment with so sweet an air—and she had no sooner carried it, but Damia made her utterly forgot by a gentle sinking, and a rigadoon step.[341] The contest held a full half-hour; and I protest, I saw no manner of difference in their perfections, till they came up together, and expected my sentence. "Look ye, ladies," said I, "I see no difference in the least in your performance; but you Clidamira seem to be so well satisfied that I shall determine for you, that I must give it to Damia, who stands with so much diffidence and fear, after showing an equal merit to what she pretends to. Therefore, Clidamira, you are a 'pretty'; but, Damia, you are a 'very pretty' lady. For," said I, "beauty loses its force, if not accompanied with modesty. She that has a humble opinion of herself, will have everybody's applause, because she does not expect it; while the vain creature loses approbation through too great a sense of deserving it."

From my own Apartment, June 27.

Being of a very spare and hective constitution, I am forced to make frequent journeys of a mile or two for fresh air; and indeed by this last, which was no further than the village of Chelsea, I am farther convinced of the necessity of travelling to know the world. For as it is usual with young voyagers, as soon as they land upon a shore, to begin their accounts of the nature of the people, their soil, their government, their inclinations, and their passions, so really I fancied I could give you an immediate description of this village, from the Five Fields,[342] where the robbers lie in wait, to the coffee-house where the literati sit in council. A great ancestor of ours by the mother's side, Mr. Justice Overdo (whose history is written by Ben Jonson),[343] met with more enormities by walking incog. than he was capable of correcting; and found great mortifications in observing also persons of eminence, whom he before knew nothing of. Thus it fared with me, even in a place so near the town as this. When I came into the coffee-house,[344] I had not time to salute the company, before my eye was diverted by ten thousand gimcracks round the room and on the ceiling. When my first astonishment was over, comes to me a sage of a thin and meagre countenance; which aspect made me doubt, whether reading or fretting had made it so philosophic: but I very soon perceived him to be of that sect which the ancients call Gingivistae,[345] in our language, tooth-drawers. I immediately had a respect for the man; for these practical philosophers go upon a very rational hypothesis, not to cure, but take away the part affected. My love of mankind made me very benevolent to Mr. Salter, for such is the name of this eminent barber and antiquary. Men are usually, but unjustly, distinguished rather by their fortunes, than their talents, otherwise this personage would make a great figure in that class of men which I distinguish under the title of Odd Fellows. But it is the misfortune of persons of great genius, to have their faculties dissipated by attention to too many things at once. Mr. Salter is an instance of this: if he would wholly give himself up to the string,[346] instead of playing twenty beginnings to tunes, he might before he dies play "Roger de Caubly"[347] quite out. I heard him go through his whole round, and indeed I think he does play the "Merry Christ-Church Bells"[348] pretty justly; but he confessed to me, he did that rather to show he was orthodox, than that he valued himself upon the music itself. Or if he did proceed in his anatomy, why might not he hope in time to cut off legs, as well as draw teeth? The particularity of this man put me into a deep thought, whence it should proceed, that of all the lower order barbers should go farther in hitting the ridiculous, than any other set of men. Watermen brawl, cobblers sing; but why must a barber be for ever a politician, a musician, an anatomist, a poet, and a physician? The learned Vossus says,[349] his barber used to comb his head in iambics. And indeed in all ages, one of this useful profession, this order of cosmetic philosophers, has been celebrated by the most eminent hands. You see the barber in "Don Quixote,"[350] is one of the principal characters in the history, which gave me satisfaction in the doubt, why Don Saltero writ his name with a Spanish termination: for he is descended in a right line, not from John Tradescant,[351] as he himself asserts, but from that memorable companion of the Knight of Mancha. And I hereby certify all the worthy citizens who travel to see his rarities, that his double-barrelled pistols, targets, coats of mail, his sclopeta,[352] and sword of Toledo,[353] were left to his ancestor by the said Don Quixote, and by the said ancestor to all his progeny down to Don Saltero. Though I go thus far in favour of Don Saltero's great merit, I cannot allow a liberty he takes of imposing several names (without my licence) on the collections he has made, to the abuse of the good people of England; one of which is particularly calculated to deceive religious persons, to the great scandal of the well disposed, and may introduce heterodox opinions. He shows you a straw hat, which I know to be made by Madge Peskad, within three miles of Bedford; and tells you, it is Pontius Pilate's wife's chamber-maid's sister's hat. To my knowledge of this very hat, it may be added, that the covering of straw was never used among the Jews, since it was demanded of them to make bricks without it. Therefore this is really nothing, but under the specious pretence of learning and antiquity, to impose upon the world. There are other things which I cannot tolerate among his rarities; as, the china figure of a lady in the glass case; the Italian engine for the imprisonment of those who go abroad with it: both which I hereby order to be taken down, or else he may expect to have his letters patents for making punch superseded, be debarred wearing his muff next winter, or ever coming to London without his wife.[354] It may perhaps be thought I have dwelt too long upon the affairs of this operator; but I desire the reader to remember, that it is my way to consider men as they stand in merit, and not according to their fortune or figure; and if he is in a coffee-house at the reading hereof, let him look round, and he will find there may be more characters drawn in this account than that of Don Saltero; for half the politicians about him, he may observe, are, by their place in nature, of the class of tooth-drawers.



[Footnote 337: See p. 273, note.]

[Footnote 338: A small violin or fiddle. See No. 160.]

[Footnote 339: A dancing-master, who either was French, or pretended to be so. See No. 109.]

[Footnote 340: A song of Waller's begins:

"Behold the brand of beauty tost! See, how the motion doth dilate the flame!" (Dobson). ]

[Footnote 341: The rigadoon was a dance for two persons. Cf. Guardian, No. 154: "We danced a rigadoon together."]

[Footnote 342: On the site of Eaton and Belgrave Squares. See Spectator, No. 137: "The Five Fields towards Chelsea."]

[Footnote 343: In "Bartholomew Fair," act ii. sc. i. Overdo went to the Fair in disguise, and being mistaken for a cutpurse, was well beaten.]

[Footnote 344: Salter, a barber, opened a coffee-house in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, in 1695. Sir Harry Sloane, whose servant he had been, gave him some curiosities to start a museum. Others, including Admiral Munden and his fellow-officers, added to the collection, and the first catalogue appeared in 1729. The more startling curiosities were, of course, not genuine. The remains of the collection were sold in 1799 for about L50. A view of Salter's house will be found in Timbs' "Clubs and Club Life in London." Verses of a more or less coarse nature by Don Saltero appeared not unfrequently in the "British Apollo," in 1709.]

[Footnote 345: From "gingiva," the gum.]

[Footnote 346: Salter played very badly on the fiddle.]

[Footnote 347: "Sir Roger de Coverley," the famous country-dance tune.]

[Footnote 348: By Dr. Henry Aldrich, Dean of Christ Church, Oxford, where Steele matriculated.]

[Footnote 349: "De Poematum cantu, et viribus Rythmi," 1673.]

[Footnote 350: Master Nicholas. See "Don Quixote," chap. v.]

[Footnote 351: There were two John Tradescants (father and son) who collected objects of natural history. Their collection formed the foundation of the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford. The "Museum Tradescantianum: or, A Collection of Rarities preserved at South Lambeth, near London, by John Tradescant," contains interesting portraits of both John Tradescant, senior, and John Tradescant, junior, as well as a plate of the Tradescant arms.]

[Footnote 352: A sclopeta or sclopetta was a hand-gun used by Spaniards.]

[Footnote 353: Toledo was famous for its sword-blades.]

[Footnote 354: Salter had an old grey muff, which he clapped constantly to his nose, and by which he was distinguishable at the distance of a quarter of a mile. His wife was none of the best, being much addicted to scolding.-(Nichols.)]



No. 35. [STEELE.

From Tuesday, June 28, to Thursday, June 30, 1709.

* * * * *

Grecian Coffee-house, June 28.

There is a habit or custom which I have put my patience to the utmost stretch to have suffered so long, because several of my intimate friends are in the guilt; and that is, the humour of taking snuff, and looking dirty about the mouth by way of ornament. My method is to dive to the bottom of a sore before I pretend to apply a remedy. For this reason, I sat by an eminent story-teller and politician who takes half an ounce in five seconds, and has mortgaged a pretty tenement near the town, merely to improve and dung his brains with this prolific powder. I observed this gentleman the other day in the midst of a story diverted from it by looking at something at a distance, and I softly hid his box. But he returns to his tale, and looking for his box, he cries, "And so, sir—" Then when he should have taken a pinch, "As I was saying," says he—"Has nobody seen my box?" His friend beseeches him to finish his narration. Then he proceeds, "And so, sir—Where can my box be?" Then, turning to me, "Pray, sir, did you see my box?" "Yes, sir," said I, "I took it to see how long you could live without it." He resumes his tale; and I took notice, that his dulness was much more regular and fluent than before. A pinch supplied the place of, "As I was saying," "And so, sir"; and he went on currently enough in that style which the learned call the insipid. This observation easily led me into a philosophic reason for taking snuff, which is done only to supply with sensations the want of reflection. This I take to be an Ἕυρηκα [Heureka], a nostrum; upon which I hope to receive the thanks of this board. For as it is natural to lift a man's hand to a sore, when you fear anything coming at you; so when a person feels his thoughts are run out, and has no more to say, it is as natural to supply his weak brain with powder at the nearest place of access, viz., the nostrils. This is so evident, that nature suggests the use according to the indigence of the persons who use this medicine, without being prepossessed with the force of fashion or custom. For example; the native Hibernians, who are reckoned not much unlike the ancient Boeotians, take this specific for emptiness in the head, in greater abundance than any other nation under the sun. The learned Sotus, as sparing as he is in his words, would be still more silent if it were not for this powder. But however low and poor the taking snuff argues a man to be in his own stock of thought, or means to employ his brains and his fingers, yet there is a poorer creature in the world than he, and this is a borrower of snuff; a fellow that keeps no box of his own, but is always asking others for a pinch. Such poor rogues put me always in mind of a common phrase among schoolboys when they are composing their exercise, who run to an upper scholar, and cry, "Pray give me a little sense." But of all things, commend me to the ladies who are got into this pretty help to discourse.[355] I have been this three years persuading Sagissa[356] to leave it off; but she talks so much, and is so learned, that she is above contradiction. However, an accident the other day brought that about, which my eloquence never could accomplish: she had a very pretty fellow in her closet, who ran thither to avoid some company that came to visit her. She made an excuse to go in to him for some implement they were talking of. Her eager gallant snatched a kiss; but being unused to snuff, some grains from off her upper lip made him sneeze aloud, which alarmed the visitants, and has made a discovery, that profound reading, very much intelligence, and a general knowledge of who and who's together, cannot fill up her vacant hours so much, but that she is sometimes obliged to descend to entertainments less intellectual.